Exempt from every grief, 't was
No searching eye can pierce the veil
In tears, the heart oppressed with.
Italia! thou, by lavish Nature graced
If thus thy fallen grandeur I behold
Let the vain courtier waste his days
Pause not with lingering foot,
These marble domes, by wealth
The sainted spirit, which from bliss
He shall not dread Misfortune's
The torrent wave, that breaks
Sweet rose! whose tender foliage
Fortune! why thus, whate'er my
Wouldst thou to Love of danger
Unbending 'midst the wintry skies
Oh! those alone, whose severed
Ah! cease-those fruitless tears
Amidst these scenes, O pilgrim,
Juan de Tarsis. Thou, who hast fled from life's
Torquato Tasso. Thou, in thy morn wert like
Bernardo Tasso. This green recess, where through
Petrarch.