Petrarch - Ballata V lyrics

HER KIND SALUTE SAVED HIM FROM DEATH Late as those eyes on my sunk cheek inclined, Whose paleness to the world seems of the grave, Compa**ion moved you to that greeting kind, Whose soft smile to my worn heart spirit gave. The poor frail life which yet to me is left Was of your beauteous eyes the liberal gift, And of that voice angelical and mild; My present state derived from them I see; As the rod quickens the slow sullen child, So waken'd they the sleeping soul in me. Thus, Lady, of my true heart both the keys You hold in hand, and yet your captive please: Ready to sail wherever winds may blow, By me most prized whate'er to you I owe. Macgregor.