Torquato Tasso Quotes

Cosí furon disciolti. Aventuroso ben veramente fu d'Olindo il fato, ch'atto poté mostrar che 'n generoso petto al fine ha d'amore amor destato. Va dal rogo a le nozze; ed è già sposo fatto di reo, non pur d'amante amato. Volse con lei morire: ella non schiva, poi che seco non muor, che seco viva.

Wherever I am, I am Love, no less
among these shepherds than with nobility.
And inequalities of subjects to my rule
I balance as I please.

La via d'onor della salute è via.

Now spread the night her spangled canopy,
And summoned every restless eye to sleep;
On beds of tender grass the beasts down lie,
The fishes slumbered in the silent deep,
Unheard were serpent's hiss and dragon's cry,
Birds left to sing, and Philomen to weep,
Only that noise heaven's rolling circles kest,
Sung lullaby to bring the world to rest.

Crudel, che tal beltà turba e consuma.

Alfin s'invecchia amore Senza quest' arti, e divien pigro e lento, Quasi destrier che men veloce corra, Se non ha chilo segua, o chi 'l precorra.

Era la notte allor ch'alto riposo
Han l'onde e i venti, e parea muto il mondo,
Gli animai lassi, e quei che 'l mare ondoso,
O de' liquidi laghi alberga il fondo,
E chi si giace in tana, o in mandra ascoso,
E i pinti augelli nell’oblio giocondo
Sotto il silenzio de' secreti orrori
Sopían gli affanni, e raddolciano i cori.

Tempo è da travagliar mentre il sol dura; Ma nella notte ogni animale ha pace.

O fortunati miei dolci martiri!
S'impetrerò che giunto seno a seno,
L'anima mia nella tua bocca io spiri.

So might we die, not envying them that live;
So would we die, not unrevenged all.

Per la fe, per la patria il tutto lice.

Armida smiles to hear, but keeps her gaze
fixed on herself, love's labours to behold.
Her locks she braided and their wanton ways
in lovely order marshalled and controlled.
She wound the curls of her fine strands with sprays
of flowers, like enamel worked on gold,
and made the stranger rose join with her pale
breast's native lily, and composed her veil.

A re malvagio, consiglier peggiore.

Till Phoebus' rising from his evening fall
To her, for her, he mourns, he calls, he cries.

About the hill lay other islands small,
Where other rocks, crags, cliffs, and mountains stood,
The Isles Fortunate these elder time did call,
To which high Heaven they reigned so kind and good,
And of his blessings rich so liberal,
That without tillage earth gives corn for food,
And grapes that swell with sweet and precious wine
There without pruning yields the fertile vine. The olive fat there ever buds and flowers,
The honey-drops from hollow oaks distil,
The falling brook her silver streams downpours
With gentle murmur from their native hill,
The western blast tempereth with dews and showers
The sunny rays, lest heat the blossoms kill,
The fields Elysian, as fond heathen sain,
Were there, where souls of men in bliss remain.