TRANSLATIONS

Never did sculptor's dream unfold

A form which marble doth not hold

In its white block; yet it therein shall find

Only the hand secure and bold

Which still obeys the mind.

So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame,

The ill I shun, the good I claim;

I alas! not well alive,

Miss the aim whereto I strive.

Not love, nor beauty's pride,

Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide,

If, whilst within thy heart abide

Both death and pity, my unequal skill

Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill.