#341 Canzone to the Virgin (Francesco Petrarca, Trad. Margaret Coats)

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CANZONE TO THE VIRGIN

Virgin beautiful, vested with the sun
And crowned with stars, who pleased the Sun supreme
So much that within you He hid his light,
Love spurs me to speak words in your esteem,
But only with your aid are they begun,
And with his warmth, whose love in you gleamed bright.
Her I invoke who kindly will requite
__All offering their prayers through her.
__Virgin, if human woe can stir
Your mercy by its misery outright,
Hear me, and in my favor intervene;
__Give succor to my warfare’s dearth,
Though I am earth, and you are heaven’s Queen.

Virgin wise, numbered in that fair choir
Of blessed virgins for their prudence known,
Indeed the first, who holds the brightest lamp,
O steady shield to peoples who lie prone
Beneath the blows of Death and Fortune dire,
Because of whom comes triumph to their camp,
O comforting refreshment cool and damp
__For fevers blind of mortal men;
__Virgin, whose beaming eyes have been
Appalled by nails that left their brutal stamp
In your dear Son’s sweet flesh despitefully,
__Turn now to see my doubtful state
Disconsolate, and sagely counsel me.

Virgin pure, in every way perfected,
Gentle mother and daughter of your Son,
You light this life, and that beyond adorn.
Of you the Father’s sole begotten One—
O window clear whence glory is reflected—
To save us at the time foretold was born.
One earthly dwelling place He could not scorn:
__The chosen maid whom He reveres;
__Virgin most blest, who turned Eve’s tears
To joy, and crushed the curse that made us mourn,
Make me—you who can—deserve his grace.
__Forever blessèd you are found
In heaven crowned, still pleading for our race.

Virgin holy, in grace most plenteous,
Who by the highest true humility
Mounted to heaven where my prayers you mark,
You brought to birth the Fount of piety,
The Sun of justice who illumines us,
Though we are wrapt in error thick and dark.
In you three dearest names trace their sweet arc:
__Those of daughter, mother, and spouse.
__Virgin whom heaven’s wealth endows,
Lady of the King, who from bondage stark
Has freed the world and brought it hope for bliss,
__In his grave wounds relieve my heart,
With all my art I beg, true Beatrice.

Virgin sole in the world, without a peer,
Who by your beauties’ bloom enamored Heaven,
On earthly pathways none like you has trod;
Chaste acts and pious thoughts are holy leaven
By which you raised virginity sincere
And fruitful as a living shrine to God.
My life can be true gladness, if you nod
__In favor to my prayer, O Mary,
__Virgin sweet and solitary.
Where sin abounded, shower grace abroad;
Bend my will toward good—my knees I bend.
__Deign to direct my wayward mind;
Guide me, refined, to a true-hearted end.

Virgin bright and infinitely stable,
Above this world’s tempestuous sea the star
Whom every faithful helmsman trusts as guide,
Look down and see how stormy winds unbar
Waves from the depth, driving me, unable
To steer, into huge whirlpools, terrified.
But ever on you has my soul relied:
__A sinner I am, I confess,
__Virgin, bring home the harborless.
Let not your enemy my fate deride;
Remember that to save us from our sin,
__God in your cloister took our flesh,
And through your fresh perfection is our kin.

Virgin, how many tears I now have shed,
Vain pleas and prayers sent forth in endless ranks,
Proud products of my pain and near damnation.
The day that I was born on Arno’s banks
Began the quest through which I have been led,
In a life of naught but futile tribulation.
Mortal beauty, works’ and words’ temptation,
__Pressed on my soul a grievous load;
__Virgin from whom my comfort flowed,
Hasten—this very year my life’s duration
May close. The days as swift as arrows fly,
__In misery and misdeeds spent,
But penitent I near the hour to die.

Virgin, she is earth who brought me gloom,
And while yet living kept me in sore grief.
My thousand ills she never could survey,
And had she known them, it is my belief,
All would have been the same, for to presume
Her changed is death to me—her fame’s decay.
Heaven’s Mistress, our Goddess if we may
__Address you so without offense,
__Virgin of pre-eminent sense,
You see all, and though others turn away,
It is nothing for your powerful dominion
__To bring an end to my long woe,
And I will owe to you renewed redemption.

Virgin in whom I place my every hope,
I know you can and will fulfill my need.
At life’s completion leave me not alone,
But think of God—my being He decreed.
Regard his image as you see me grope
Out of the vice for which I must atone.
Medusa and my guilt made me a stone
__Sweating with slimy humors vain;
__Virgin, turn sinful sloth to sane
And pious weeping, whence my fully grown
Devotion may flow forth in tears of sadness
__Unmixed with earthy soil accursed,
As in my first vow, voiced before my madness.

Virgin so human, enemy of pride,
With tender fondness for our common nature,
Have mercy on a humble heart contrite.
A bit of earth I formerly could venture
To love with faith profusely magnified;
What should I do for you, our kindred’s height?
If from this circumstance of pain and blight
__Your hands my spirit liberate,
__Virgin, I purge and consecrate
To you my thoughts, my wit, and all I write,
My tongue, my heart, my tears, my untold sighs;
__Disclose a lovelier abode,
And hear my mode of worthier replies.

The day approaches and cannot be far;
__Time runs, then flies as moments roll.
__Virgin unique and ever sole,
Now death, now conscience, with my poor heart spar.
Commend me to your Son as morrows cease,
__True man and God supremely true;
May He, for you, take back my breath in peace.