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In his light, the proud Eagle preened and combed its wings, gaily effortlessly he floats above Olympus--the earth's beneath his notice--my beloved took it all for you. Now there's a shadow on his brightness; sordid circumstance, hard to decipher, warps the view, his sincerity's doubted, the bold eagle's flight seems not what it was. His victories and his Vittoria, his trophies, deeds left an eagle's impress everywhere, the great wings' feathers scattered. The light his radiance diffused made life's iron road less grim--but now sombre night retakes the earth; the eagle can fly no more. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V XII:12 & B E24:215 (more precise & daring); R XVII, 57: MSs F1, Bo, A, CAS, CASI, Cor, Pa, VI, Ve2; printed many times: 1538/9, 1540-2/44-6; 1558 Ruscelli; 1586; 1760. Translation: Bouchard 205. To Emperor Charles V after just after Pescara's death. Giovanni Guidiccioni replied ("L'aquila avria dove fermar l'altero"). Key |
