Tornami Al Tempo Allor Che Lenta E Sciolta

Give me the day when free was cast the rein For headlong ardor’s unreflecting race; Restore to me the calm angelic face Wherewith interred seems Virtue to remain; Give back the wanderings, the steps of pain, So slow to him by weary age oppressed; Give water to my eyes, fire to my breast, If thou wilt take thy fill of me again. If, Love, ’tis true, thou livest on no more Than sighs and tears of lovers bitter-sweet, A weary age hath nought of thy desire; The soul already near the further shore, With shield of holier darts doth thine defeat, And the burned wood is proof against the fire.

A madrigal relates to the same theme.