Xxiv

Mestier non era all’alma tuo beltate Legarme vinto con alcuna corda; Che, se ben mi ricorda, Sol d’uno sguardo fui prigione e preda: C’alle gran doglie usate Forz’è c’un debil cor subito ceda. Ma chi fie ma’ che creda, Preso da’ tuo’ begli occhi in brevi giorni Un legnio secco e arso verde torni?

Thy sweetness had no need of cord or chain Its prisoner to bind; Too well I bear in mind, How I was conquered by a glance alone; The heart subdued by many an ancient pain Hath lost the fortitude it erst did own. Yet who hath ever known, That wakened by a look, in time so brief, A withered tree should kindle and bear leaf?