If I could slip this chain from off my neck,

If I could slip this chain from off my neck,
keep him from preying on my mind, of course
I'd dwell on you--and this helpless crying
would turn to laughter; I'd make my style sweet,

my song gentle, full of high-sounding praise
for you, for that nobility which lies
not in crowns, scepters, purple cloaks, but in
character. But while Heaven's lavished gifts
on you, how meanly the stars have starved me--
I was so young when he came between me
and your paradise, fixed, limited me

to him: this to prevent imperfect praise
of you, and to not let anyone now
take from me my mourning for my darling.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V XCII:92. See also B E10:208; R CVII:310; MS Cor; 1538/9, 1540-2; 1552/9-60; 1760 Rota. Translations: Roscoe 99; Lawley,55-6; Thérault 308. To Giovanna d'Aragona, justifying her refusal to stop mourning for Pescara. Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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