Venice masks

Sunday, 18 October 2020

Sonnet X - Carlo Maggi

Soul, by thy deep demerit sore distressed, 
Dear to thy Lord — ah! why by woe subdued? 
He asks thy love: — but thou wouldst love exclude 
For love must fail, if hope forsake the breast! 

Muse on the promise of eternal rest 
To thee, whom late from nothingness He drew; 
And let the strength He gives that prize to sue 
Be in warm strains of grateful praise confessed! 

His loving kindness still invites and cheers; 
Oh, cease to embitter with despondent tears 
The manna which impearls his mercy-seat! 

Weep for thy sin — but mitigate thy grief 
With blessed hope: to implore a full relief 
Where pity hath no bounds, itself is sweet.

Carlo Maggi (17th century) Italy
Translated by John Sheppard
Source: The Foreign Sacred Lyre: Metrical Versions of Religious Poetry from the German, French, and Italian, by John Sheppard, Jackson & Walford, 1857

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