Torquato Tasso (1544–1595)

Translated by James Glassford, of Dougalston

WITH thee, Ferrante, dauntless could I go

To where the Tuscan waves the Spaniard greet,

Whether the skies invite and winds are meet,

Or loud and dark the angry tempest blow;

Could pass with thee where Atlas frowning low,

Bathes in the bitter brine his rugged feet;

Or where that youth, on stolen venture sweet,

Sunk in the wave, a tale of tender woe;

Nor if to Afric sands, or Asian shore,

You led the way, to follow would refuse,

Baring my side to thousand armèd foes.

Yet weary as I am, and near my close,

The wood, the fountain, and the secret muse,

Are what I better love, and suit me more.