I Miei Saluti. (Italian Poems)

I.

    Ti saluto, Margherita
        Fior di vita, ... ti saluto!
        Sei la speme del mattino,
        Sei la gioja del giardino.


II.

    Ti saluto, Rosignolo
        Nel tuo duolo, ... ti saluto!
        Sei l' amante della rosa
        Che morendo si fa sposa.


III.

    Ti saluto, Sol di Maggio
        Col tuo raggio, ... ti saluto!
        Sei l' Apollo del passato,
        Sei l' amore incoronato.


IV.

    Ti saluto, Donna mia,
        Casta e pia, ... ti saluto!
        Sei la diva dei desiri,
        Sei la Santa dei Sospiri.

Eric Mackay

Eric Mackay, born on June 1, 1851, was a noted English poet whose work gained recognition in the late 19th century. He is best known for his sonnets and lyrical poetry, which were celebrated for their emotional depth and technical mastery. His most famous work, 'Love Letters of a Violinist,' was well-received during his lifetime. Mackay's contributions to English literature have been acknowledged for their artistic merit. He passed away on June 8, 1898.

Eric Mackay

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter III. Regrets.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Byron.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Love Letters of a Violinist. Letter XI. Faith.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

A Lover's Litanies - Sixth Litany. Benedicta Tu.

Eric Mackay, Simple Poetry

Italian

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Italia, Io Ti Saluto!

To come back from the sweet South, to the North
Where I was born, bred, look to die;
Come back to do my day's work in its day,
Play out my play -
Amen, amen, say I.

To see no more the country half my own,
Nor hear the half familiar speech,
Amen, I say; I turn to that bleak North
Whence I came forth -
The South lies out of reach.

But when our swallows fly back to the South,
To the sweet South, to the sweet South,
The tears may come again into my eyes
On the old wise,
And the sweet name to my mouth.

Christina Georgina Rossetti

La Zingarella. (Italian Poems)

I.

    Dimmi, dimmi, o trovatore,
        Tu che canti sul lïuto,
        Bello e bruno e pien d'amore
        Dalla valle in su venuto,
        Non ti fermi sull' altura
        Per mostrar la tua bravura?
        Non mi canti sul burrone
        Qualche lieta tua canzone?


II.

    - Zingarella, in sulla sera
        Canta bene il rosignolo,
        Piange e canta in sua preghiera
        Salutando un dolce suolo.
        Ma il lïuto al mio toccare
        Pianger sa, non sa pregare ...
        Deh! che vuoi col tuo sorriso,
        Tu che sai di paradiso?


III.

    - Vò sentire in tuo linguaggio
        Come è fatto un uom fedele,
        Se l'amor lo fa selvaggio,
        Se il destin lo ...

Eric Mackay

Monna Innominata. A Sonnet Of Sonnets.

Beatrice, immortalized by "altissimo poeta ... cotanto amante;" Laura, celebrated by a great though an inferior bard, - have alike paid the exceptional penalty of exceptional honor, and have come down to us resplendent with charms, but (at least, to my apprehension) scant of attractiveness.

These heroines of world-wide fame were preceded by a bevy of unnamed ladies "donne innominate" sung by a school of less conspicuous poets; and in that land and that period which gave simultaneous birth to Catholics, to Albigenses, and to Troubadours, one can imagine many a lady as sharing her lover's poetic aptitude, while the barrier between them might be one held sacred by both, yet not such as to render mutual love incompatible with mutual honor.

Had such a lady spoken for herself, the portrait left us might have appeared more ...

Christina Georgina Rossetti

Ballata V.

Volgendo gli occhi al mio novo colore.

HER KIND SALUTE SAVED HIM FROM DEATH.


    Late as those eyes on my sunk cheek inclined,
Whose paleness to the world seems of the grave,
Compassion moved you to that greeting kind,
Whose soft smile to my worn heart spirit gave.
The poor frail life which yet to me is left
Was of your beauteous eyes the liberal gift,
And of that voice angelical and mild;
My present state derived from them I see;
As the rod quickens the slow sullen child,
So waken'd they the sleeping soul in me.
Thus, Lady, of my true heart both the keys
You hold in hand, and yet your captive please:
Ready to sail wherever winds may blow,
By me most prized whate'er to you I owe.

MACGREGOR.

Francesco Petrarca

Sonnets. V

Per certo i bei vostr'occhi Donna mia
Esser non puo che non fian lo mio sole
Si mi percuoton forte, come ci suole
Per l'arene di Libia chi s'invia,
Mentre un caldo vapor (ne senti pria)
Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole,
Che forsi amanti nelle lor parole
Chiaman sospir; io non so che si sia:
Parte rinchiusa, e turbida si cela
Scosso mi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco
Quivi d' attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingiela;
Ma quanto a gli occhi giunge a trovar loco
Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose
Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose.

John Milton

Sonnet CLV.

Almo Sol, quella fronde ch' io sola amo.

TO THE SUN, WHOSE SETTING HID LAURA'S DWELLING FROM HIS VIEW.


    O blessed Sun! that sole sweet leaf I love,
First loved by thee, in its fair seat, alone,
Bloometh without a peer, since from above
To Adam first our shining ill was shown.
Pause we to look on her! Although to stay
Thy course I pray thee, yet thy beams retire;
Their shades the mountains fling, and parting day
Parts me from all I most on earth desire.
The shadows from yon gentle heights that fall,
Where sparkles my sweet fire, where brightly grew
That stately laurel from a sucker small,
Increasing, as I speak, hide from my view
The beauteous landscape and the blessèd scene,
Where dwells my true heart with its only queen.

MACG...

Francesco Petrarca