I
En una llaga mortal,
desigual,
que está en el siniestro lado,
conoceréis luego cuál
es el leal
servidor y enamorado;
por cuanto vos la hicisteis
a mí después de vencido
en la vencida
que vos, señora, vencisteis
cuando yo quedé...
From the French by Henry Francis Cary
Addressed to his deceased wife, who died in childbed at the age of twenty-two
TO make my lady’s obsequies
My love a minster wrought,
And, in the chantry, service there
Was sung by doleful thought;
The tapers were of burning sighs,
That light and odor gave:
And sorrows, painted o’er with...
Could mortal lip divine
The undeveloped Freight
Of a delivered syllable
'Twould crumble with the weight.
Were natural mortal lady
Who had so little time
To pack her trunk and order
The great exchange of clime —
How rapid, how momentous —
What exigencies were —
But nature will be ready
And have an hour to spare.
To make some trifle fairer
That was too fair...
