Biography of Francesco Petrarch
Francesco Petrarca (Italian pronunciation: [franˈtʃesko peˈtrarka]; July 20, 1304 – July 19, 1374), commonly anglicized as Petrarch (/ˈpiːtrɑːrk, ˈpɛtrɑːrk/), 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 standing back from his time was possible because he straddled two worlds - the classical and his own modern day.
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Francesco Petrarch Poems
I go weeping for my time past,
I go weeping for my time past, that I spent in loving something mortal, without lifting myself in flight, for I had wings
Diana was never more pleasing to her lover, when, by a stroke of fate, he saw her naked, shown in the deep pool of icy water, than I was by the mountain shepherdess,
Being one day at my window all alone, So manie strange things happened me to see, As much as it grieveth me to thinke thereon. At my right hand a hynde appear'd to mee,
I have not seen you, lady,
I have not seen you, lady, leave off your veil in sun or shadow, since you knew that great desire in myself
She let her gold hair scatter in the bre...
She let her gold hair scatter in the breeze that twined it in a thousand sweet knots, and wavering light, beyond measure, would burn
O my own Italy! though words are vain The mortal wounds to close, Unnumber'd, that thy beauteous bosom stain,
If No Love Is, O God, What Fele I So? (S...
If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me,
I find no peace, and yet I make no war:
I find no peace, and yet I make no war: and fear, and hope: and burn, and I am ice: and fly above the sky, and fall to earth,
What do I feel if this is not love?
What do I feel if this is not love? But if it is love, God, what thing is this? If good, why this effect: bitter, mortal?
When the heavenly body that tells the ho...
When the heavenly body that tells the hours has returned to the constellation of Taurus, power from the burning horns descends
At the foot of the hill where beauty's g...
At the foot of the hill where beauty's garment first clothed that lady with earthly members, who has often sent wakefulness to him,
Greed and sleep and slothful beds
Greed and sleep and slothful beds have banished every virtue from the world, so that, overcome by habit,
My passion's folly is so led astray
My passion's folly is so led astray by following what turns and flees,
When I utter sighs, in calling out to yo...
When I utter sighs, in calling out to you, with the name that Love wrote on my heart, the sound of its first sweet accents begin
Being one day at my window all alone,
So manie strange things happened me to see,
As much as it grieveth me to thinke thereon.
At my right hand a hynde appear'd to mee,
So faire as mote the greatest god delite;
Two eager dogs did her pursue in chace.
Of which the one was blacke, the other white:
With deadly force so in their cruell race