Parrà forse ad alcun che 'n lodar quella
ch'i' adoro in terra, errante sia 'l mio stile,
faccendo lei sovr'ogni altra gentile,
santa, saggia, leggiadra, honesta et bella.
A me par il contrario; et temo ch'ella
non abbia a schifo il mio dir troppo humile,
degna d'assai piú alto et piú sottile:
et chi nol crede, venga egli a vedella;
sí dirà ben: Quello ove questi aspira
è cosa da stancare Athene, Arpino,
Mantova et Smirna, et l'una et l'altra lira.
Lingua mortale al suo stato divino
giunger non pote: Amor la spinge et tira,
non per electïon, ma per destino.
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Perhaps it might seem to some that in praising
her whom I love on earth, my style's too high,
setting her above all other nobleness,
sacred, wise, graceful, chaste and beautiful.
To me it seems otherwise: and I fear
she's offended that my speech is over humble,
worthy of something nobler and more subtle:
and whoever doubts that let him come and see:
he'll truly say: 'This man here must aspire
to things that exhausted Athens and Arpinum,
Mantua and Smyrna, the Greek and Roman lyre.
Mortal tongue cannot express her divinity:
Love drives him and draws him on,
not by his choice, but by his destiny.'
Note:
Athens, Arpinum, Mantua, and Smyrna, the birthplaces
respectively of Demosthenes, Cicero, Virgil, and according
to one tradition Homer.
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