Samuel Waddington, comp. The Sonnets of Europe. 1888.
To a Mature BeautyTorquato Tasso (15441595)
Translated by Baroness von Gilsa
I
Wert thou, that from the wind’s warm breathing hides
In bashful maidenhood, and safe abides
Within its leafy covert, soft and close;
Or, since with thee may nothing vie that knows
The touch of Death,—like some fair dawn that glides
O’er dew-impearlëd fields, and down the sides
Of golden hills in new-born beauty glows.
Now thy green spring is past, yet riper years
Take naught from thee, nor can a lovelier one
In youthful gladness smile at thy decay;
More beautiful the perfect flower appears
In odorous prime,—more glorious is the sun
That crowns the broad arch of the bright noon-day.