Francesco Redi (1626–1697)

Translated by Edmund Gosse

SWEET Ladies, who to Love your hearts incline,

And hand in hand walk down compassion’s way,

Pause here an hour and weep with me and say

If ever there was sorrow like to mine!

My Lady had a heart that was the shrine

Of every splendid truth that scorns decay,

And round about her glorious limbs did play

Transcendent bloom, and from her eyes did shine

Such lights as flash about the aurioled head

Of some divine fair angel in God’s choir,

And all her soul was like an altar-fire

With faith and love, and round her life was shed

The silent chrism of innocent desire

And godlike grace! Sweet Ladies, she is dead!