Bonaggiunta Urbisani (c. 1220–1290)

Translated by Charles Bagot Cayley

WOUNDED, I pray my wounder to beware

Lest me, by plucking out her barb, she slay;

For many dying I have seen, that were

Not killed by wound, but weapon drawn away.

For this I will my wound in quiet bear,

And live with patience, if but live I may;

For all he conquers, who will not despair;

A man by patience wins in every fray.

I ask then of thy mercy, O my light,

Sweet lady, and my solace all alone,

Withdraw not from my deadly wound thy spear;

Choose not, for God’s love, I should perish quite;

My sorrow’s port I hope to find anon;

My heart has learnt not by long pain to veer.