Francesco Petrarca; July 20, 1304 - July 19, 1374), commonly anglicized as Petrarch, was an Italian scholar and poet in Renaissance Italy, and one of the earliest humanists. Petrarch's rediscovery of Cicero's letters is often credited for initiating the 14th-century Renaissance. Petrarch is often called the "Father of Humanism." In the 16th century, Pietro Bembo created the model for the modern Italian language based on Petrarch's works, as well as those of Giovanni Boccaccio, and, to a lesser extent, Dante Alighieri. Petrarch would be later endorsed as a model for Italian style by the Accademia della Crusca. Petrarch's sonnets were admired and imitated throughout Europe during the Renaissance and became a model for lyrical poetry. He is also known for being the first to develop the concept of the "Dark Ages." This book is in English and Italian.

This book contains fifteen sonnets written by the Italian poet Francesco Petrarca (commonly known as Petrarch). The sonnets are presented in their original Italian with an English translation by Thomas Wentworth Higginson. This is an excellent resource for students of Italian literature looking to improve their language skills. This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work is in the "public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

"...INTRODUCTIONHear my summer home there is a little cove or landing by the bay, where nothing larger than a boat can ever anchor. I sit above it now, upon the steep bank, knee-deep in buttercups, and amid grass so lush and green that it seems to ripple and flow instead of waving. Below lies a tiny beach, strewn with a few bits of driftwood and some purple shells, and so sheltered by projecting walls that its wavelets plash but lightly. ..."

Excerpt from Fifteen Sonnets of Petrarch Bebz'na' me an orz'ole chirrups in triumpb amid tbe bireb-trees wbicb wafve around tbe bouse of tbe baum'ed window before me a kingfisber pauses and waits, and a darting blackbz'rd sbows tbe scarlet on bis wings. Sloops ana' scloooners constantly come and go, careem'ng in tbe wind, tbeir wbite sails taking, ifremote enougb, a vague blue mantle from the deli cate azr. Sailboats glide in tko distance, each a mere wbite wing of canvas, - ar coming nearer, and glan cing sua'a'enly' z'w'o tbe cove, are put as suddenly on tbe otber tack, and almost in an instant seemfar away. Tloere is to-a'ay suob a live sparkle on tbe water, sueb a luminousfresbness on tbe grass, toat it seems, as is often tbe ease in early June, as if all history were a dream, and tbe wbole earth were but the creation of a summer's day. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

O JOYOUS, blossoming, ever-blessed flowers! 'Mid which my pensive queen her footstep sets; O plain, that hold'st her words for amulets And keep'st her footsteps in thy leafy bowers! O trees, with earliest green of springtime hours, And all spring's pale and tender violets! O grove, so dark the proud sun only lets His blithe rays gild the outskirts of thy towers! O pleasant country-side! O limpid stream, That mirrorest her sweet face, her eyes so clear, And of their living light canst catch the beam! I envy thee her presence pure and dear. There is no rock so senseless but I deem It burns with passion that to mine is near.WHEN Love doth those sweet eyes to earth incline, And weaves those wandering notes into a sigh With his own touch, and leads a minstrelsy Clear-voiced and pure, angelic and divine,-- He makes sweet havoc in this heart of mine, And to my thoughts brings transformation high, So that I say, "My time has come to die, If fate so blest a death for me design." But to my soul, thus steeped in joy, the sound Brings such a wish to keep that present heaven, It holds my spirit back to earth as well. And thus I live: and thus is loosed and wound The thread of life which unto me was given By this sole Siren who with us doth dwell.