Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.
Alas! where now doth scorn of fortune hide?Joachim du Bellay (15521560)
Translated by Austin Dobson
Regrets
Regrets
A
And where the heart that still must conqueror be;
Where the strong hope of immortality,
And that fine flame to common souls denied?
Through the brown night the silver moon could see,
With all the Nine, whenas, in fancy free,
I led them dance, some sacred stream beside?
And this my heart that I would fain control,
Is grown the thrall of many a fear and sigh.
No more within I feel that ancient fire,
And the sweet Muses turn from me, and fly.