Ballata VI.

Di tempo in tempo mi si fa men dura.     THOUGH SHE BE LESS SEVERE, HE IS STILL NOT CONTENTED AND TRANQUIL AT HEART.         From time to time more clemency for me     In that sweet smile and angel form I trace;     Seem too her lovely face     And lustrous eyes at length more kind to be.     Yet, if thus honour'd, wherefore do my sighs     In doubt and sorrow flow,     Signs that too truly show     My anguish'd desperate life to common eyes?     Haply if, where she is, my glance I bend,     This harass'd heart to cheer,     Methinks that Love I hear     Pleading my cause, and see him succour lend.     Not therefore at an end the strife I deem,     Nor in sure rest my heart at last esteem;     For Love most burns within     When Hope most pricks us on the way to win.     MACGREGOR.         From time to time less cruelty I trace     In her sweet smile and form divinely fair;     Less clouded doth appear     The heaven of her fine eyes and lovely face.     What then at last avail to me those sighs,     Which from my sorrows flow,     And in my semblance show     The life of anguish and despair I lead?     If towards her perchance I bend mine eyes,     Some solace to bestow     Upon my bosom's woe,     Methinks Love takes my part, and lends me aid:     Yet still I cannot find the conflict stay'd,     Nor tranquil is my heart in every state:     For, ah! my passion's heat     More strongly glows within as my fond hopes increase.     NOTT.