Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Epitaphs Translated From Chiabrera</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">WEEP not, beloved Friends! nor let the air<br>For me with sighs be troubled. Not from life<br>Have I been taken; this is genuine life<br>And this alone--the life which now I live<br>In peace eternal; where desire and joy<br>Together move in fellowship without end.--<br>Francesco Ceni willed that, after death,<br>His tombstone thus should speak for him. And surely<br>Small cause there is for that fond wish of ours<br>Long to continue in this world; a world <br>That keeps not faith, nor yet can point a hope<br>To good, whereof itself is destitute.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">II</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">PERHAPS some needful service of the State<br>Drew TITUS from the depth of studious bowers,<br>And doomed him to contend in faithless courts,<br>Where gold determines between right and wrong.<br>Yet did at length his loyalty of heart,<br>And his pure native genius, lead him back<br>To wait upon the bright and gracious Muses,<br>Whom he had early loved. And not in vain<br>Such course he held! Bologna's learned schools<br>Were gladdened by the Sage's voice, and hung <br>With fondness on those sweet Nestorian strains.<br>There pleasure crowned his days; and all his thoughts<br>A roseate fragrance breathed.--O human life,<br>That never art secure from dolorous change!<br>Behold a high injunction suddenly<br>To Arno's side hath brought him, and he charmed<br>A Tuscan audience: but full soon was called<br>To the perpetual silence of the grave.<br>Mourn, Italy, the loss of him who stood<br>A Champion stedfast and invincible, <br>To quell the rage of literary War!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">III</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O THOU who movest onward with a mind<br>Intent upon thy way, pause, though in haste!<br>'Twill be no fruitless moment. I was born<br>Within Savona's walls, of gentle blood.<br>On Tiber's banks my youth was dedicate<br>To sacred studies; and the Roman Shepherd<br>Gave to my charge Urbino's numerous flock.<br>Well did I watch, much laboured, nor had power<br>To escape from many and strange indignities;<br>Was smitten by the great ones of the world, <br>But did not fall; for Virtue braves all shocks,<br>Upon herself resting immoveably.<br>Me did a kindlier fortune then invite<br>To serve the glorious Henry, King of France,<br>And in his hands I saw a high reward<br>Stretched out for my acceptance,--but Death came.<br>Now, Reader, learn from this my fate, how false,<br>How treacherous to her promise, is the world;<br>And trust in God--to whose eternal doom<br>Must bend the sceptred Potentates of earth. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IV</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">THERE never breathed a man who, when his life<br>Was closing, might not of that life relate<br>Toils long and hard.--The warrior will report<br>Of wounds, and bright swords flashing in the field,<br>And blast of trumpets. He who hath been doomed<br>To bow his forehead in the courts of kings,<br>Will tell of fraud and never-ceasing hate,<br>Envy and heart-inquietude, derived<br>From intricate cabals of treacherous friends.<br>I, who on shipboard lived from earliest youth, <br>Could represent the countenance horrible<br>Of the vexed waters, and the indignant rage<br>Of Auster and Bootes. Fifty years<br>Over the well-steered galleys did I rule:--<br>From huge Pelorus to the Atlantic pillars,<br>Rises no mountain to mine eyes unknown;<br>And the broad gulfs I traversed oft and oft:<br>Of every cloud which in the heavens might stir<br>I knew the force; and hence the rough sea's pride<br>Availed not to my Vessel's overthrow. <br>What noble pomp and frequent have not I<br>On regal decks beheld! yet in the end<br>I learned that one poor moment can suffice<br>To equalise the lofty and the low.<br>We sail the sea of life--a 'Calm' One finds,<br>And One a 'Tempest'--and, the voyage o'er,<br>Death is the quiet haven of us all.<br>If more of my condition ye would know,<br>Savona was my birth-place, and I sprang<br>Of noble parents; seventy years and three <br>Lived I--then yielded to a slow disease.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">V</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">TRUE is it that Ambrosio Salinero<br>With an untoward fate was long involved<br>In odious litigation; and full long,<br>Fate harder still! had he to endure assaults<br>Of racking malady. And true it is<br>That not the less a frank courageous heart<br>And buoyant spirit triumphed over pain;<br>And he was strong to follow in the steps<br>Of the fair Muses. Not a covert path<br>Leads to the dear Parnassian forest's shade, <br>That might from him be hidden; not a track<br>Mounts to pellucid Hippocrene, but he<br>Had traced its windings.--This Savona knows,<br>Yet no sepulchral honours to her Son<br>She paid, for in our age the heart is ruled<br>Only by gold. And now a simple stone<br>Inscribed with this memorial here is raised<br>By his bereft, his lonely, Chiabrera.<br>Think not, O Passenger! who read'st the lines,<br>That an exceeding love hath dazzled me; <br>No--he was One whose memory ought to spread<br>Where'er Permessus bears an honoured name,<br>And live as long as its pure stream shall flow.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">VI</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">DESTINED to war from very infancy<br>Was I, Roberto Dati, and I took<br>In Malta the white symbol of the Cross:<br>Nor in life's vigorous season did I shun<br>Hazard or toil; among the sands was seen<br>Of Libya; and not seldom, on the banks<br>Of wide Hungarian Danube, 'twas my lot<br>To hear the sanguinary trumpet sounded.<br>So lived I, and repined not at such fate:<br>This only grieves me, for it seems a wrong, <br>That stripped of arms I to my end am brought<br>On the soft down of my paternal home.<br>Yet haply Arno shall be spared all cause<br>To blush for me. Thou, loiter not nor halt<br>In thy appointed way, and bear in mind<br>How fleeting and how frail is human life!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">VII</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">O FLOWER of all that springs from gentle blood,<br>And all that generous nurture breeds to make<br>Youth amiable; O friend so true of soul<br>To fair Aglaia; by what envy moved,<br>Lelius! has death cut short thy brilliant day<br>In its sweet opening? and what dire mishap<br>Has from Savona torn her best delight?<br>For thee she mourns, nor e'er will cease to mourn;<br>And, should the out-pourings of her eyes suffice not<br>For her heart's grief, she will entreat Sebeto <br>Not to withhold his bounteous aid, Sebeto<br>Who saw thee, on his margin, yield to death,<br>In the chaste arms of thy beloved Love!<br>What profit riches? what does youth avail?<br>Dust are our hopes;--I, weeping bitterly,<br>Penned these sad lines, nor can forbear to pray<br>That every gentle Spirit hither led<br>May read them, not without some bitter tears.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">VIII</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">NOT without heavy grief of heart did He<br>On whom the duty fell (for at that time<br>The father sojourned in a distant land)<br>Deposit in the hollow of this tomb<br>A brother's Child, most tenderly beloved!<br>FRANCESCO was the name the Youth had borne,<br>POZZOBONNELLI his illustrious house;<br>And, when beneath this stone the Corse was laid,<br>The eyes of all Savona streamed with tears.<br>Alas! the twentieth April of his life <br>Had scarcely flowered: and at this early time,<br>By genuine virtue he inspired a hope<br>That greatly cheered his country: to his kin<br>He promised comfort; and the flattering thoughts<br>His friends had in their fondness entertained,<br>He suffered not to languish or decay.<br>Now is there not good reason to break forth<br>Into a passionate lament?--O Soul!<br>Short while a Pilgrim in our nether world,<br>Do thou enjoy the calm empyreal air; <br>And round this earthly tomb let roses rise,<br>An everlasting spring! in memory<br>Of that delightful fragrance which was once<br>From thy mild manners quietly exhaled.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">IX</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539980" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">PAUSE, courteous Spirit!--Balbi supplicates<br>That Thou, with no reluctant voice, for him<br>Here laid in mortal darkness, wouldst prefer<br>A prayer to the Redeemer of the world.<br>This to the dead by sacred right belongs;<br>All else is nothing.--Did occasion suit<br>To tell his worth, the marble of this tomb<br>Would ill suffice: for Plato's lore sublime,<br>And all the wisdom of the Stagyrite,<br>Enriched and beautified his studious mind: <br>With Archimedes also he conversed<br>As with a chosen friend, nor did he leave<br>Those laureat wreaths ungathered which the Nymphs<br>Twine near their loved Permessus.--Finally,<br>Himself above each lower thought uplifting,<br>His ears he closed to listen to the songs<br>Which Sion's Kings did consecrate of old;<br>And his Permessus found on Lebanon.<br>A blessed Man! who of protracted days<br>Made not, as thousands do, a vulgar sleep; <br>But truly did 'He' live his life. Urbino,<br>Take pride in him!--O Passenger, farewell!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Wordsworth">William Wordsworth</a></strong></div>