Sonnet XIII.

Io mi rivolgo indietro a ciascun passo.     ON QUITTING LAURA.         With weary frame which painfully I bear,     I look behind me at each onward pace,     And then take comfort from your native air,     Which following fans my melancholy face;     The far way, my frail life, the cherish'd fair     Whom thus I leave, as then my thoughts retrace,     I fix my feet in silent pale despair,     And on the earth my tearful eyes abase.     At times a doubt, too, rises on my woes,     "How ever can this weak and wasted frame     Live from life's spirit and one source afar?"     Love's answer soon the truth forgotten shows--     "This high pure privilege true lovers claim,     Who from mere human feelings franchised are!"     MACGREGOR.         I look behind each step I onward trace,     Scarce able to support my wearied frame,     Ah, wretched me! I pantingly exclaim,     And from her atmosphere new strength embrace;     I think on her I leave--my heart's best grace--     My lengthen'd journey--life's capricious flame--     I pause in withering fear, with purpose tame,     Whilst down my cheek tears quick each other chase.     My doubting heart thus questions in my grief:     "Whence comes it that existence thou canst know     When from thy spirit thou dost dwell entire?"     Love, holy Love, my heart then answers brief:     "Such privilege I do on all bestow     Who feed my flame with nought of earthly fire!"     WOLLASTON.