|
 A Petrarchan
(Italian) Sonnet
|
Review
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The
eyes that drew from me such fervent praise,
The arms and hands and feet and countenance
Which made me a stranger in my own romance
And set me apart from the well-trodden ways;
The gleaming, golden, curly hair,
the
rays
5
Flashing from a smiling angel's glance,
Which moved the world in paradisal dance,
Are grains of dust, insensibilities.
And I live on, but in grief and
self-contempt,
Left here without the light I loved so
much, 10
In a great tempest and with shrouds unkempt.
No more love songs, then; I have
done with such;
My old skill now runs thin at each attempt,
And tears are heard within the harp I touch.
==================================
(Translated by Edwin
Morgan. In Maynard Mack and others, eds. World Masterpieces,
6th ed. Vol. 1 Literature of Western Culture Through the
Renaissance. New York: Norton, 1992. Adapted for
non-profit, educational use.) |
This
Italian sonnet shows the 10-syllable pattern of "iambic
pentameter," 5 units of quieter then louder syllables. The Italian
pattern of rhyme, different from the English pattern, is abba abba cdc dcd.
Comparisons
form the most moving lines. His beloved's face, for example, is compared
in a "metaphor" to an angel's because of the liveliness it
radiated.
Variations in the rhythm
point to important words, like the "trochee" that begins line
6--flashing . Is line 6 short for emphasis or because this is a
translation? Why is line 9 long--grief or translation?
Is there an
unusually high number of /a/ sounds in the first two stanzas? Maybe this
"assonance" forms a sort of musical theme, representing her
while alive, and disappearing in the last stanzas, overwhelmed by the
sounds of other vowels--confusion and grief.
Since a sonnet writer isn't
literally playing a harp, perhaps this instrument symbolizes the emotion
of his grief, as well as a reminder of how his angel has been
transformed. |
| What's
the theme of this poem? The speaker, who can be identified with the poet
himself, Francis Petrarch, speaks his grief over losing the young woman*
who formed the center of his romantic life and his poetic life. The source
of his love and his craft died, and he feels storm-tossed, hopeless of any
future love and unable to write love sonnets anymore.
*
The young woman's name was Laura. She died in April, 1348, when Francis
Petrarch (1304-1374) was in his 40s. |
| Other
online
copies
of this
poem |
a
3-page overview of sonnets, sounds, and reading a poem |
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