ON Petrarch's heart, all other days before,In flaming letters written, was impress dGOOD FRIDAY. And on mine, be it confess'd, Is this year's ADVENT, as it passeth o'er.
I do not now begin,--I still adoreHer whom I early cherish'd in my breast;,Then once again with prudence dispossess'd, And to whose heart I'm driven back once more.
The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love,Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad;One long Good Friday 'twas, one heartache drearBut may my mistress' Advent ever prove,With its palm-jubilee, so sweet and glad,One endless Mayday, through the livelong year!
1807.
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