Analysis of Canzone VII.

Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch) 1304 (Tuscan city of Arezzo) – 1374 (Arquà, Padua, Republic of Venice)



Lasso me, ch i' non so in qual parte pieghi.

HE WOULD CONSOLE HIMSELF WITH SONG, BUT IS CONSTRAINED TO WEEP.

Me wretched! for I know not whither tend
The hopes which have so long my heart betray'd:
If none there be who will compassion lend,
Wherefore to Heaven these often prayers for aid?
But if, belike, not yet denied to me
That, ere my own life end,
These sad notes mute shall be,
Let not my Lord conceive the wish too free,
Yet once, amid sweet flowers, to touch the string,
"Reason and right it is that love I sing."

Reason indeed there were at last that I
Should sing, since I have sigh'd so long and late,
But that for me 'tis vain such art to try,
Brief pleasures balancing with sorrows great;
Could I, by some sweet verse, but cause to shine
Glad wonder and new joy
Within those eyes divine,
Bliss o'er all other lovers then were mine!
But more, if frankly fondly I could say,
"My lady asks, I therefore wake the lay."

Delicious, dangerous thoughts! that, to begin
A theme so high, have gently led me thus,
You know I ne'er can hope to pass within
Our lady's heart, so strongly steel'd from us;
She will not deign to look on thing so low,
Nor may our language win
Aught of her care: since Heaven ordains it so,
And vainly to oppose must irksome grow,
Even as I my heart to stone would turn,
"So in my verse would I be rude and stern."

What do I say? where am I?--My own heart
And its misplaced desires alone deceive!
Though my view travel utmost heaven athwart
No planet there condemns me thus to grieve:
Why, if the body's veil obscure my sight,
Blame to the stars impart.
Or other things as bright?
Within me reigns my tyrant, day and night,
Since, for his triumph, me a captive took
"Her lovely face, and lustrous eyes' dear look."

While all things else in Nature's boundless reign
Came good from the Eternal Master's mould,
I look for such desert in me in vain:
Me the light wounds that I around behold;
To the true splendour if I turn at last,
My eye would shrink in pain,
Whose own fault o'er it cast
Such film, and not the fatal day long past,
When first her angel beauty met my view,
"In the sweet season when my life was new."


Scheme A X BCBCDBDDEE FGFGHXHHII JKJKLJLLMM NAXAONOOPP QRQRSQSSAX
Poetic Form
Metre 10111110111 11100111110111 1101111101 0111111101 1111110101 1110110111 111110111 111111 111111 1111010111 11011101101 1001111111 1001101111 1111111101 1111111111 1101001101 1111111111 110011 011101 11011010101 1111010111 110111101 01010011101 0111110111 1111111101 10101110111 1111111111 1110101 1101110111 0101011101 1011111111 1011111101 1111111111 01010100101 1111011001 1101011111 1101010111 110101 110111 0111110101 1111010101 0101010111 1111010101 1110010101 1111100101 1011110101 101111111 111101 1111011 1101010111 1101010111 0011011111
Closest metre Iambic pentameter
Characters 2,128
Words 426
Sentences 17
Stanzas 7
Stanza Lengths 1, 1, 10, 10, 10, 10, 10
Lines Amount 52
Letters per line (avg) 32
Words per line (avg) 8
Letters per stanza (avg) 235
Words per stanza (avg) 59
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Submitted on August 03, 2020

Modified on March 05, 2023

2:09 min read
13

Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch)

Francesco Petrarca (Italian: [franˈtʃesko peˈtrarka]; July 20, 1304 – July 18/19, 1374), commonly anglicized as Petrarch (/ˈpiːtrɑːrk, ˈpɛt-/), was an Italian scholar and poet during the early Italian Renaissance, and one of the earliest humanists more…

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