Guido Cavalcanti (1255–1300)

Translated by Percy Bysshe Shelley

RETURNING from its daily quest, my Spirit

Changed thoughts and vile in thee doth weep to find:

It grieves me that thy mild and gentle mind

Those ample virtues which it did inherit,

Has lost. Once thou didst loathe the multitude

Of blind and madding men: I then loved thee—

I loved thy lofty songs, and that sweet mood

When thou wert faithful to thyself and me.

I dare not now, through thy degraded state,

Own the delight thy strains inspire—in vain

I seek what once thou wert—we cannot meet

As we were wont. Again, and yet again,

Ponder my words: so the false Spirit shall fly,

And leave to thee thy true integrity.