On this spot my beloved came back to me--
laden with a king's booty--how it glittered,
what opulent jewels. How it hurts
my eyes to resee the places he made bright.
His crown was of palm and laurel--this was how
he was paid; in his eager face, acts, wise,
noble words one saw and heard why people
believed in him. Here my pleas conquered him, and
he showed me his wounds. How touching he was,
and then he would tell his Vittoria
when and how he won his bright victories.
How much pain the joy I had gives me now.
As I remember I laugh aloud while
I cry a few sweet, and many bitter tears.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V LXXV:75. See also B A1:61:33; R LXXI:199. Translations: Andrews 290; Lawley 18-9; LeFèvre-Deumier, 14. Key