Since you returned home, the blessed haven

Since you returned home, the blessed haven
you came from, finest of spirits, we are
left to the daily misery of life,
its melancholy and without that joy

you must now lend each star you encounter;
I do not cry that you are happy but
ache for this pitiless desolate earth--
--while you lived unparalleled splendor graced

our world at play, and without you, and your
exquisite poetry how poor, shrunk, and
gray we are. Scorn and grief nearly drown Rome

as Tiber overflows her shores for a
second Caesar--your body washed thus, at
peace, Sincero, you are become divine.

An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition
From V LXXXV:85 & Bullock E15:210; MSs L, VI, Ve2: 1538/9, 1539, 1540-2/44-6; 1552/9-60; 1760 Rota. Translations: Roscoe 60 (as to VC's deceased father); Lefèvre-Deumier 84. On the death of Jacopo Sannazaro (August 6, 1530). Key

Amaro Lagrimar
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