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From An Anthology of Italian Poems 13th-19th Century selected and translated by Lorna de’ Lucchi, Alfred A. Knopf, New York; 1922; pp. 112-116, 352.

[For purists, the Italian text of the poems follows the English translation.]

IACOPO [Jacopo] Sannazaro, 1458-1530

Notes and translation by Lorna de’ Lucchi

[352]

Biographical Note

IACOPO SANNAZARO, born in Naples; entered the service of the Duke of Calabria, and later that of King Frederick of Naples. He wrote a number of sonnets and canzoni, also the pastoral Arcadia and letters; in Latin: Piscatory Eclogues, Elegies, Epigrams, and a poem, De Partu Virginis.

[For a near-contemporary's assessment of his worth, see Jacopo Sannazaro, by Paolo Giovio, in An Italian Portrait Gallery, translated by F. A. Gragg, on this site. — Elf.Ed.]

POEMS

[113]

English

Lament of Androgéo (Arcadia)

O BLESSED soul and sweet,
From mortal bonds set free,
Naked unto th’ eternal choirs didst rise,
And there thy star didst meet
And joinest in her glee;
Mocking our cares, now showest in the skies
A bright sun to our eyes
Among the purest loves;
And ’neath thee canst behold
The wandering stars unfold,
And by clear springs, in sacred myrtle groves,
Heaven’s flocks agrazing, whence
Scornfully thou dost cast earth’s troubles hence.
   Now other hills and plains,
And other streams and groves,
And fresher flowers thou seest in the sky;
Down peaceful summer lanes
Moved by more passionate loves,
By other Fauns pursued the Nymphs flit by;
Where shadows softly lie
And fragrance is distilled,
Daphne and Meliboeus nigh,
Androgeus sings, the sky
Burdening with tender sweets, while stirred and stilled
115 The winds are by the sound
Of unaccustomed accents wafted round.
   As unto elm the vine,
As bull unto the herd,
As to the happy fields the waving corn,
Even so art thou the wine
And fame our hearts preferred;
Who may escape from thee, O Death forlorn,
If hills thy fire hath shorn?
O who can hope to see
So gay a shepherd again,
Singing so sweet a strain,
Stripping the woods as he,
And scattering everywhere
Shade on the waters with green branches fair?
   The Goddess divine
Thy passing did deplore,
The streams, the caves, the beeches mourned thy plight,
The wan, frail grass did pine,
Bewailed the verdant shore,
Full many a day the sun concealed his light;
Wild beasts lurked out of sight
Nor to the fields did go,
Nor flocks o’er hillsides pass
To drink and crop the grass;
Untoward fate had aimed so dire a blow
That in or sun or shade
“Androgeus, Androgeus” thrilled the glade.
   Hence garlands fresh we lay
Thy sacred tomb a-nigh,
And these with husbandmen who’d honour thee
Thou shalt behold alway;
Like tender dove shalt fly
117 From shepherds’ lips; O everlastingly
Be cherished thy dear name
While snakes in brambles teem
And fishes swim in stream!
Nor shalt live only in my accents tame,
Shepherds in myriad ways
Shall wreathe their rhymes and pipe unto thy praise.
   If in your midst there dwell a soul of Love,
O leafy oaks, give shade
To the quiet bones here laid.
[112]

Italian

Lamento di Androgéo (Arcadia)


ALMA beata e bella,
che da’ ligami sciolta
nuda salisti nei superni chiostri,
ove con la tua stella
ti godi insieme acolta;
et lieta ivi, schernendo i pensier nostri,
quasi un bel sol ti mostri
tra li più chiari spirti,
et sotto le tue piante
vedi le stelle erranti;
et tra pure fontane et sacri mirti
pasci celesti greggi,
et le mundane cure indi dispreggi.
   Altri monti, altri piani.
altri boschetti et rivi
vedi nel cielo, et più novelli fiori,
altri Fauni et Silvani
per luoghi dolci estivi
seguir le ninfe in più felici amori.
Tal fra suavi odori
dolce cantando all’ ombra
tra Dafni e Melibeo
siede il nostro Androgéo,
et di vaga dolcezza il cielo ingombra,
114 temprando gli elementi
col suon di novi inusitati accenti.
   Quale la vite a l’ olmo,
et agli armenti il toro,
et l’ ondeggianti biade ai lieti campi,
tale la gloria e ’l colmo
fostù del nostro coro.
Ahi cruda morte, et chi fia che ne scampi,
se con tue fiamme avvampi
le più elevate cime?
chi vedrà mai nel mondo
pastor tanto giocondo,
che cantando fra noi sì dolci rime
sparga il bosco di fronde,
et di bei rami induca ombra su l’ onde?
   Pianser le sante dive
la tua spietata morte;
i fiumi il sanno e le spelunch’ e i faggi:
pianser le verde rive,
l’ erbe pallide et smorte,
e ’l sol più giorni non mostrò suo’ raggi,
nè gli animal selvaggi
usciro in algun prato,
nè greggi andâr per monti
nè gustâro erbe o fonti:
tanto dolse ad ciascun l’ acerbo fato,
tal che al chiaro et al fosco
“Androgéo, Androgéo” sonava il bosco
   Dunche fresche corone
a la tua sacra tomba
et voti di bifolci ognor vedrai,
tal che in ogni stagione,
quasi nuova colomba,
per bocche de’ pastor volando andrai;
116 nè verrà tempo mai
che ’l tuo bel nome extingua,
mentre serpenti in dumi
saranno et pesci in fiumi.
Nè sol vivrai nella mia stanca lingua,
ma, per pastor diversi,
in mille altre sampogne et mille versi.
   Se spirto algun d’amor vive fra voi,
quercie frondose et folte,
fate ombra alle quïete ossa sepolte.

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