The Complete Poems: The 1554 Edition of the "Rime," a Bilingual Edition 9780226770734

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THE COMPLETE POEMS

THE OTHER VOICE IN E A R LY M O D E R N EUROPE

A Series Edited by Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil Jr. RECENT BOOKS IN THE SERIES MADELEINE DE L’AUBESPINE

MARGUERITE DE NAVARRE

Selected Poems and Translations: A Bilingual Edition

Selected Writings: A Bilingual Edition

Edited and Translated by Anna Kłosowska

Edited and Translated by Rouben Cholakian and Mary Skemp

EMILIE DU CHÂTELET

LUCREZIA MARINELLA

Selected Philosophical and Scientific Writings

Enrico; or, Byzantium Conquered: A Heroic Poem

Edited and with an Introduction by Judith P. Zinsser, Translated by Isabelle Bour and Judith P. Zinsser

Edited and Translated by Maria Galli Stampino

PRINCESS ELISABETH OF BOHEMIA AND RENÉ DESCARTES

The Correspondence between Princess Elisabeth of Bohemia and René Descartes

CHIARA MATRAINI

Selected Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition Edited and Translated by Elaine Maclachan, With an Introduction by Giovanna Rabitti

Edited and Translated by Lisa Shapiro ANA DE SAN BARTOLOMÉ CATHARINA REGINA VON GREIFFENBERG

Autobiography and Other Writings

Meditations on the Incarnation, Passion, and Death of Jesus Christ

Edited and Translated by Darcy Donahue

Edited and Translated by Lynne Tatlock

SARRA COPIA SULAM

MARÍA DE GUEVARA

Jewish Poet and Intellectual in Seventeenth-Century Venice

Warnings to the Kings and Advice on Restoring Spain: A Bilingual Edition

Edited and Translated by Don Harrán

Edited and Translated by Nieves Romero-Díaz

MARÍA DE ZAYAS Y SOTOMAYOR

HORTENSE MANCINI AND MARIE MANCINI

Exemplary Tales of Love and Tales of Disillusion

Memoirs Edited and Translated by Sarah Nelson

Edited and Translated by Margaret R. Greer and Elizabeth Rhodes

Gaspara Stampa

THE COMPLETE POEMS The 1554 Edition of the Rime, a Bilingual Edition

 Edited by Troy Tower and Jane Tylus Translated and with an Introduction by Jane Tylus

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS

Chicago & London

Gaspara Stampa, 1523?–1554 Troy Tower is a Ph.D. candidate in Italian studies at Johns Hopkins University. Jane Tylus is professor of Italian studies and vice provost for academic affairs at New York University. She is the author, most recently, of Reclaiming Catherine of Siena: Literacy, Literature, and the Signs of Others (2009), also published by the University of Chicago Press. The University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637 The University of Chicago Press, Ltd., London © 2010 by The University of Chicago All rights reserved. Published 2010 Printed in the United States of America 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 1 2 3 4 5 ISBN-13: 978-0-226-77071-0 (cloth) ISBN-13: 978-0-226-77072-7 (paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-77071-0 (cloth) ISBN-10: 0-226-77072-9 (paper) The University of Chicago Press gratefully acknowledges the generous support of New York University toward the publication of this book. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Stampa, Gaspara, ca. 1523–ca. 1554. The complete poems : the 1554 edition of the “rime,” a bilingual edition / Gaspara Stampa ; edited by Troy Tower and Jane Tylus ; translated and with an introduction by Jane Tylus. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and indexes. ISBN-13: 978-0-226-77071-0 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978-0-226-77072-7 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-77071-0 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-226-77072-9 (pbk. : alk. paper) I. Tower, Troy. II. Tylus, Jane, 1956– III. Title PQ4634.S6513 2010 851⬘.4—dc20 2010016936 o The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI Z39.48-1992.

To our mothers

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments ix Series Editors’ Introduction xi Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n 1 Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y 4 7

The Rime (1554) 54 Appendix A: Poems Not Included in the 1554 Anthology 349 Appendix B: Poems to Stampa from Poets She Addresses in the Rime 357 Appendix C: Concordance 361 Notes 365 Series Editors’ Bibliography 401 Index of First Lines in Italian 429 General Index 439

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

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his translation would not have been possible without the help and encouragement of friends, family, and colleagues. Much of it was done over several summers at the home of Dina Galli and Gabriele Romani in Corciano, as well as during the spring of 2008 when I was inspired by the wonderful students in my seminar on early modern translation. Subsequent assistance was cheerfully offered by Elena Bellina, Erika Mazzer, Michael Moore, Inga Pierson, Assunta Mencarelli, and Paola Ugolini. Alex and Nathan Klein caught various infelicities in the English. I received extensive feedback on the introduction from Virginia Cox, Suzanne Cusick, Clare O’Donoghue, Troy Tower, and the anonymous reader for the University of Chicago Press, who also gave helpful comments on the translation; my thanks to them all. And I’m grateful for the many comments I received when giving versions of the introduction and translation as talks at the Renaissance Society of America conference in 2008 and at the University of California, Santa Cruz, and New York University in 2009. Albert Rabil deserves the biggest thanks for proposing Stampa to me four years ago and for seeing this project through to the end with his good humor and editorial acumen. As always, Bill Klein was unflaggingly supportive. Troy Tower joins me in thanking Randy Petilos for his enthusiasm and assistance throughout this process, and Alan Thomas for agreeing to sign on Stampa for—sadly—the penultimate volume in Chicago’s Other Voice in Early Modern Europe series. Susan Tarcov, our diligent copyeditor, deserves our warmest thanks. We’re also grateful to the Interlibrary Loan staffs at Bobst Library at NYU, Butler Library at Columbia University, and Eisenhower Library at Johns Hopkins, and the staff in the Sala dei manoscritti e libri rari at the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale in Florence for their assistance. Our thanks to Dottoressa Gilda Paola Mantovani at the Biblioteca Civica

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Acknowledgments di Padova for permission to photograph and reproduce the engraving of Stampa that mysteriously appeared in the 1554 volume of her Rime, and my thanks to Chiara Maroso and other library staff for helping me track down the image’s provenance. We are grateful to Danielle Callegari for her work on the index. Finally, a silent offering of gratitude to Cassandra Stampa for saving her sister’s verses from oblivion four-and-a-half centuries ago. It has been a distinct pleasure translating and editing Gaspara’s poetry for Englishand Italian-speaking readers alike. Jane Tylus

THE OTHER VOICE IN E A R LY M O D E R N E U R O P E : INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES Margaret L. King and Albert Rabil Jr.

TH E OLD VOI CE A N D T H E OTH E R V O I C E

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n western Europe and the United States, women are nearing equality in the professions, in business, and in politics. Most enjoy access to education, reproductive rights, and autonomy in financial affairs. Issues vital to women are on the public agenda: equal pay, child care, domestic abuse, breast cancer research, and curricular revision with an eye to the inclusion of women. These recent achievements have their origins in things women (and some male supporters) said for the first time about six hundred years ago. Theirs is the “other voice,” in contradistinction to the “first voice,” the voice of the educated men who created Western culture. Coincident with a general reshaping of European culture in the period 1300–1700 (called the Renaissance or early modern period), questions of female equality and opportunity were raised that still resound and are still unresolved. The other voice emerged against the backdrop of a three-thousandyear history of the derogation of women rooted in the civilizations related to Western culture: Hebrew, Greek, Roman, and Christian. Negative attitudes toward women inherited from these traditions pervaded the intellectual, medical, legal, religious, and social systems that developed during the European Middle Ages. The following pages describe the traditional, overwhelmingly male views of women’s nature inherited by early modern Europeans and the new tradition that the “other voice” called into being to begin to challenge reigning assumptions. This review should serve as a framework for understanding the texts published in the series The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Introductions specific to each text and author follow this essay in all the volumes of the series.

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Series Editors’ Introduction TRAD I TI ON A L VI EW S OF W OM EN , 5 0 0 B . C . E . – 1 5 0 0 C . E .

Embedded in the philosophical and medical theories of the ancient Greeks were perceptions of the female as inferior to the male in both mind and body. Similarly, the structure of civil legislation inherited from the ancient Romans was biased against women, and the views on women developed by Christian thinkers out of the Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament were negative and disabling. Literary works composed in the vernacular of ordinary people, and widely recited or read, conveyed these negative assumptions. The social networks within which most women lived—those of the family and the institutions of the Roman Catholic Church—were shaped by this negative tradition and sharply limited the areas in which women might act in and upon the world. G R E E K P H I L O SO P HY AND FE MAL E NATURE . Greek biology assumed that women were inferior to men and defined them as merely childbearers and housekeepers. This view was authoritatively expressed in the works of the philosopher Aristotle. Aristotle thought in dualities. He considered action superior to inaction, form (the inner design or structure of any object) superior to matter, completion to incompletion, possession to deprivation. In each of these dualities, he associated the male principle with the superior quality and the female with the inferior. “The male principle in nature,” he argued, “is associated with active, formative and perfected characteristics, while the female is passive, material and deprived, desiring the male in order to become complete.”1 Men are always identified with virile qualities, such as judgment, courage, and stamina, and women with their opposites—irrationality, cowardice, and weakness. The masculine principle was considered superior even in the womb. The man’s semen, Aristotle believed, created the form of a new human creature, while the female body contributed only matter. (The existence of the ovum, and with it the other facts of human embryology, was not established until the seventeenth century.) Although the later Greek physician Galen believed there was a female component in generation, contributed by “female semen,” the followers of both Aristotle and Galen saw the male role in human generation as more active and more important. In the Aristotelian view, the male principle sought always to reproduce

1. Aristotle, Physics 1.9.192a20–24, in The Complete Works of Aristotle, ed. Jonathan Barnes, rev. Oxford trans., 2 vols. (Princeton, 1984), 1:328.

Series Editors’ Introduction itself. The creation of a female was always a mistake, therefore, resulting from an imperfect act of generation. Every female born was considered a “defective” or “mutilated” male (as Aristotle’s terminology has variously been translated), a “monstrosity” of nature.2 For Greek theorists, the biology of males and females was the key to their psychology. The female was softer and more docile, more apt to be despondent, querulous, and deceitful. Being incomplete, moreover, she craved sexual fulfillment in intercourse with a male. The male was intellectual, active, and in control of his passions. These psychological polarities derived from the theory that the universe consisted of four elements (earth, fire, air, and water), expressed in human bodies as four “humors” (black bile, yellow bile, blood, and phlegm) considered, respectively, dry, hot, damp, and cold and corresponding to mental states (“melancholic,” “choleric,” “sanguine,” “phlegmatic”). In this scheme the male, sharing the principles of earth and fire, was dry and hot; the female, sharing the principles of air and water, was cold and damp. Female psychology was further affected by her dominant organ, the uterus (womb), hystera in Greek. The passions generated by the womb made women lustful, deceitful, talkative, irrational, indeed—when these affects were in excess—“hysterical.” Aristotle’s biology also had social and political consequences. If the male principle was superior and the female inferior, then in the household, as in the state, men should rule and women must be subordinate. That hierarchy did not rule out the companionship of husband and wife, whose cooperation was necessary for the welfare of children and the preservation of property. Such mutuality supported male preeminence. Aristotle’s teacher Plato suggested a different possibility: that men and women might possess the same virtues. The setting for this proposal is the imaginary and ideal Republic that Plato sketches in a dialogue of that name. Here, for a privileged elite capable of leading wisely, all distinctions of class and wealth dissolve, as, consequently, do those of gender. Without households or property, as Plato constructs his ideal society, there is no need for the subordination of women. Women may therefore be educated to the same level as men to assume leadership. Plato’s Republic remained imaginary, however. In real societies, the subordination of women remained the norm and the prescription. The views of women inherited from the Greek philosophical tradition became the basis for medieval thought. In the thirteenth century, the su2. Aristotle, Generation of Animals 2.3.737a27–28, in The Complete Works, 1: 1144.

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Series Editors’ Introduction preme Scholastic philosopher Thomas Aquinas, among others, still echoed Aristotle’s views of human reproduction, of male and female personalities, and of the preeminent male role in the social hierarchy. Roman law, like Greek philosophy, underlay medieval thought and shaped medieval society. The ancient belief that adult property-owning men should administer households and make decisions affecting the community at large is the very fulcrum of Roman law. About 450 B.C.E., during Rome’s republican era, the community’s customary law was recorded (legendarily) on twelve tablets erected in the city’s central forum. It was later elaborated by professional jurists whose activity increased in the imperial era, when much new legislation was passed, especially on issues affecting family and inheritance. This growing, changing body of laws was eventually codified in the Corpus of Civil Law under the direction of the emperor Justinian, generations after the empire ceased to be ruled from Rome. That Corpus, read and commented on by medieval scholars from the eleventh century on, inspired the legal systems of most of the cities and kingdoms of Europe. Laws regarding dowries, divorce, and inheritance pertain primarily to women. Since those laws aimed to maintain and preserve property, the women concerned were those from the property-owning minority. Their subordination to male family members points to the even greater subordination of lower-class and slave women, about whom the laws speak little. In the early republic, the paterfamilias, or “father of the family,” possessed patria potestas, “paternal power.” The term pater, “father,” in both these cases does not necessarily mean biological father but denotes the head of a household. The father was the person who owned the household’s property and, indeed, its human members. The paterfamilias had absolute power—including the power, rarely exercised, of life or death—over his wife, his children, and his slaves, as much as his cattle. Male children could be “emancipated,” an act that granted legal autonomy and the right to own property. Those over fourteen could be emancipated by a special grant from the father or automatically by their father’s death. But females could never be emancipated; instead, they passed from the authority of their father to that of a husband or, if widowed or orphaned while still unmarried, to a guardian or tutor. Marriage in its traditional form placed the woman under her husband’s authority, or manus. He could divorce her on grounds of adultery, drinking wine, or stealing from the household, but she could not divorce him. She could neither possess property in her own right nor bequeath any to her R O M A N L AW AND THE FE MAL E CO ND ITIO N.

Series Editors’ Introduction children upon her death. When her husband died, the household property passed not to her but to his male heirs. And when her father died, she had no claim to any family inheritance, which was directed to her brothers or more remote male relatives. The effect of these laws was to exclude women from civil society, itself based on property ownership. In the later republican and imperial periods, these rules were significantly modified. Women rarely married according to the traditional form. The practice of “free” marriage allowed a woman to remain under her father’s authority, to possess property given her by her father (most frequently the “dowry,” recoverable from the husband’s household on his death), and to inherit from her father. She could also bequeath property to her own children and divorce her husband, just as he could divorce her. Despite this greater freedom, women still suffered enormous disability under Roman law. Heirs could belong only to the father’s side, never the mother’s. Moreover, although she could bequeath her property to her children, she could not establish a line of succession in doing so. A woman was “the beginning and end of her own family,” said the jurist Ulpian. Moreover, women could play no public role. They could not hold public office, represent anyone in a legal case, or even witness a will. Women had only a private existence and no public personality. The dowry system, the guardian, women’s limited ability to transmit wealth, and total political disability are all features of Roman law adopted by the medieval communities of western Europe, although modified according to local customary laws. C H R I S T I A N D O CTRINE AND WO ME N’S P L ACE. The Hebrew Bible and the Christian New Testament authorized later writers to limit women to the realm of the family and to burden them with the guilt of original sin. The passages most fruitful for this purpose were the creation narratives in Genesis and sentences from the Epistles defining women’s role within the Christian family and community. Each of the first two chapters of Genesis contains a creation narrative. In the first “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female he created them” (Gn 1:27). In the second, God created Eve from Adam’s rib (2:21–23). Christian theologians relied principally on Genesis 2 for their understanding of the relation between man and woman, interpreting the creation of Eve from Adam as proof of her subordination to him. The creation story in Genesis 2 leads to that of the temptations in Genesis 3: of Eve by the wily serpent and of Adam by Eve. As read by Christian theologians from Tertullian to Thomas Aquinas, the narrative made Eve

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Series Editors’ Introduction responsible for the Fall and its consequences. She instigated the act; she deceived her husband; she suffered the greater punishment. Her disobedience made it necessary for Jesus to be incarnated and to die on the cross. From the pulpit, moralists and preachers for centuries conveyed to women the guilt that they bore for original sin. The Epistles offered advice to early Christians on building communities of the faithful. Among the matters to be regulated was the place of women. Paul offered views favorable to women in Galatians 3:28: “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Paul also referred to women as his coworkers and placed them on a par with himself and his male coworkers (Phlm 4:2–3; Rom 16:1–3; 1 Cor 16:19). Elsewhere, Paul limited women’s possibilities: “But I want you to understand that the head of every man is Christ, the head of a woman is her husband, and the head of Christ is God” (1 Cor 11:3). Biblical passages by later writers (although attributed to Paul) enjoined women to forgo jewels, expensive clothes, and elaborate coiffures; and they forbade women to “teach or have authority over men,” telling them to “learn in silence with all submissiveness” as is proper for one responsible for sin, consoling them, however, with the thought that they will be saved through childbearing (1 Tm 2:9–15). Other texts among the later Epistles defined women as the weaker sex and emphasized their subordination to their husbands (1 Pt 3:7; Col 3:18; Eph 5:22–23). These passages from the New Testament became the arsenal employed by theologians of the early church to transmit negative attitudes toward women to medieval Christian culture—above all, Tertullian (On the Apparel of Women), Jerome (Against Jovinian), and Augustine (The Literal Meaning of Genesis). The philosophical, legal, and religious traditions born in antiquity formed the basis of the medieval intellectual synthesis wrought by trained thinkers, mostly clerics, writing in Latin and based largely in universities. The vernacular literary tradition that developed alongside the learned tradition also spoke about female nature and women’s roles. Medieval stories, poems, and epics also portrayed women negatively—as lustful and deceitful—while praising good housekeepers and loyal wives as replicas of the Virgin Mary or the female saints and martyrs. There is an exception in the movement of “courtly love” that evolved in southern France from the twelfth century. Courtly love was the erotic love between a nobleman and noblewoman, the latter usually superior in T H E I M A G E O F WO ME N IN ME D IE VAL L ITE RATURE.

Series Editors’ Introduction social rank. It was always adulterous. From the conventions of courtly love derive modern Western notions of romantic love. The tradition has had an impact disproportionate to its size, for it affected only a tiny elite, and very few women. The exaltation of the female lover probably does not reflect a higher evaluation of women or a step toward their sexual liberation. More likely it gives expression to the social and sexual tensions besetting the knightly class at a specific historical juncture. The literary fashion of courtly love was on the wane by the thirteenth century, when the widely read Romance of the Rose was composed in French by two authors of significantly different dispositions. Guillaume de Lorris composed the initial four thousand verses about 1235, and Jean de Meun added about seventeen thousand verses—more than four times the original—about 1265. The fragment composed by Guillaume de Lorris stands squarely in the tradition of courtly love. Here the poet, in a dream, is admitted into a walled garden where he finds a magic fountain in which a rosebush is reflected. He longs to pick one rose, but the thorns prevent his doing so, even as he is wounded by arrows from the god of love, whose commands he agrees to obey. The rest of this part of the poem recounts the poet’s unsuccessful efforts to pluck the rose. The longer part of the Romance by Jean de Meun also describes a dream. But here allegorical characters give long didactic speeches, providing a social satire on a variety of themes, some pertaining to women. Love is an anxious and tormented state, the poem explains: women are greedy and manipulative, marriage is miserable, beautiful women are lustful, ugly ones cease to please, and a chaste woman is as rare as a black swan. Shortly after Jean de Meun completed The Romance of the Rose, Mathéolus penned his Lamentations, a long Latin diatribe against marriage translated into French about a century later. The Lamentations sum up medieval attitudes toward women and provoked the important response by Christine de Pizan in her Book of the City of Ladies. In 1355, Giovanni Boccaccio wrote Il Corbaccio, another antifeminist manifesto, although ironically by an author whose other works pioneered new directions in Renaissance thought. The former husband of his lover appears to Boccaccio, condemning his unmoderated lust and detailing the defects of women. Boccaccio concedes at the end “how much men naturally surpass women in nobility” and is cured of his desires.3 3. Giovanni Boccaccio, The Corbaccio, or The Labyrinth of Love, trans. and ed. Anthony K. Cassell, rev. ed. (Binghamton, N.Y., 1993), 71.

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Series Editors’ Introduction The negative perceptions of women expressed in the intellectual tradition are also implicit in the actual roles that women played in European society. Assigned to subordinate positions in the household and the church, they were barred from significant participation in public life. Medieval European households, like those in antiquity and in nonWestern civilizations, were headed by males. It was the male serf (or peasant), feudal lord, town merchant, or citizen who was polled or taxed or succeeded to an inheritance or had any acknowledged public role, although his wife or widow could stand as a temporary surrogate. From about 1100, the position of property-holding males was further enhanced: inheritance was confined to the male, or agnate, line—with depressing consequences for women. A wife never fully belonged to her husband’s family, nor was she a daughter to her father’s family. She left her father’s house young to marry whomever her parents chose. Her dowry was managed by her husband, and at her death it normally passed to her children by him. A married woman’s life was occupied nearly constantly with cycles of pregnancy, childbearing, and lactation. Women bore children through all the years of their fertility, and many died in childbirth. They were also responsible for raising young children up to six or seven. In the propertied classes that responsibility was shared, since it was common for a wet nurse to take over breast-feeding and for servants to perform other chores. Women trained their daughters in the household duties appropriate to their status, nearly always tasks associated with textiles: spinning, weaving, sewing, embroidering. Their sons were sent out of the house as apprentices or students, or their training was assumed by fathers in later childhood and adolescence. On the death of her husband, a woman’s children became the responsibility of his family. She generally did not take “his” children with her to a new marriage or back to her father’s house, except sometimes in the artisan classes. Women also worked. Rural peasants performed farm chores, merchant wives often practiced their husbands’ trades, the unmarried daughters of the urban poor worked as servants or prostitutes. All wives produced or embellished textiles and did the housekeeping, while wealthy ones managed servants. These labors were unpaid or poorly paid but often contributed substantially to family wealth. W O M E N ’ S R O L E S: THE FAMILY.

W O M E N ’ S RO L E S: THE CHURCH. Membership in a household, whether a father’s or a husband’s, meant for women a lifelong subordination to others.

Series Editors’ Introduction In western Europe, the Roman Catholic Church offered an alternative to the career of wife and mother. A woman could enter a convent, parallel in function to the monasteries for men that evolved in the early Christian centuries. In the convent, a woman pledged herself to a celibate life, lived according to strict community rules, and worshiped daily. Often the convent offered training in Latin, allowing some women to become considerable scholars and authors as well as scribes, artists, and musicians. For women who chose the conventual life, the benefits could be enormous, but for numerous others placed in convents by paternal choice, the life could be restrictive and burdensome. The conventual life declined as an alternative for women as the modern age approached. Reformed monastic institutions resisted responsibility for related female orders. The church increasingly restricted female institutional life by insisting on closer male supervision. Women often sought other options. Some joined the communities of laywomen that sprang up spontaneously in the thirteenth century in the urban zones of western Europe, especially in Flanders and Italy. Some joined the heretical movements that flourished in late medieval Christendom, whose anticlerical and often antifamily positions particularly appealed to women. In these communities, some women were acclaimed as “holy women” or “saints,” whereas others often were condemned as frauds or heretics. In all, although the options offered to women by the church were sometimes less than satisfactory, they were sometimes richly rewarding. After 1520, the convent remained an option only in Roman Catholic territories. Protestantism engendered an ideal of marriage as a heroic endeavor and appeared to place husband and wife on a more equal footing. Sermons and treatises, however, still called for female subordination and obedience. T H E OT H ER VOI CE, 1300 – 1 7 0 0

When the modern era opened, European culture was so firmly structured by a framework of negative attitudes toward women that to dismantle it was a monumental labor. The process began as part of a larger cultural movement that entailed the critical reexamination of ideas inherited from the ancient and medieval past. The humanists launched that critical reexamination. T H E H U M A NIST FO UND ATIO N. Originating in Italy in the fourteenth century, humanism quickly became the dominant intellectual movement in

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Series Editors’ Introduction Europe. Spreading in the sixteenth century from Italy to the rest of Europe, it fueled the literary, scientific, and philosophical movements of the era and laid the basis for the eighteenth-century Enlightenment. Humanists regarded the Scholastic philosophy of medieval universities as out of touch with the realities of urban life. They found in the rhetorical discourse of classical Rome a language adapted to civic life and public speech. They learned to read, speak, and write classical Latin and, eventually, classical Greek. They founded schools to teach others to do so, establishing the pattern for elementary and secondary education for the next three hundred years. In the service of complex government bureaucracies, humanists employed their skills to write eloquent letters, deliver public orations, and formulate public policy. They developed new scripts for copying manuscripts and used the new printing press to disseminate texts, for which they created methods of critical editing. Humanism was a movement led by males who accepted the evaluation of women in ancient texts and generally shared the misogynist perceptions of their culture. (Female humanists, as we will see, did not.) Yet humanism also opened the door to a reevaluation of the nature and capacity of women. By calling authors, texts, and ideas into question, it made possible the fundamental rereading of the whole intellectual tradition that was required in order to free women from cultural prejudice and social subordination. A D I F F E R E NT CITY. The other voice first appeared when, after so many centuries, the accumulation of misogynist concepts evoked a response from a capable female defender: Christine de Pizan (1365–1431). Introducing her Book of the City of Ladies (1405), she described how she was affected by reading Mathéolus’s Lamentations: “Just the sight of this book . . . made me wonder how it happened that so many different men . . . are so inclined to express both in speaking and in their treatises and writings so many wicked insults about women and their behavior.”4 These statements impelled her to detest herself “and the entire feminine sex, as though we were monstrosities in nature.”5 The rest of The Book of the City of Ladies presents a justification of the female sex and a vision of an ideal community of women. A pioneer, she has received the message of female inferiority and rejected it. From the four-

4. Christine de Pizan, The Book of the City of Ladies, trans. Earl Jeffrey Richards, foreword by Marina Warner (New York, 1982), 1.1.1, pp. 3–4. 5. Ibid., 1.1.1–2, p. 5.

Series Editors’ Introduction teenth to the seventeenth century, a huge body of literature accumulated that responded to the dominant tradition. The result was a literary explosion consisting of works by both men and women, in Latin and in the vernaculars: works enumerating the achievements of notable women; works rebutting the main accusations made against women; works arguing for the equal education of men and women; works defining and redefining women’s proper role in the family, at court, in public; works describing women’s lives and experiences. Recent monographs and articles have begun to hint at the great range of this movement, involving probably several thousand titles. The protofeminism of these “other voices” constitutes a significant fraction of the literary product of the early modern era. About 1365, the same Boccaccio whose Corbaccio rehearses the usual charges against female nature wrote another work, Concerning Famous Women. A humanist treatise drawing on classical texts, it praised 106 notable women: ninety-eight of them from pagan Greek and Roman antiquity, one (Eve) from the Bible, and seven from the medieval religious and cultural tradition; his book helped make all readers aware of a sex normally condemned or forgotten. Boccaccio’s outlook nevertheless was unfriendly to women, for it singled out for praise those women who possessed the traditional virtues of chastity, silence, and obedience. Women who were active in the public realm—for example, rulers and warriors—were depicted as usually being lascivious and as suffering terrible punishments for entering the masculine sphere. Women were his subject, but Boccaccio’s standard remained male. Christine de Pizan’s Book of the City of Ladies contains a second catalog, one responding specifically to Boccaccio’s. Whereas Boccaccio portrays female virtue as exceptional, she depicts it as universal. Many women in history were leaders, or remained chaste despite the lascivious approaches of men, or were visionaries and brave martyrs. The work of Boccaccio inspired a series of catalogs of illustrious women of the biblical, classical, Christian, and local pasts, among them Filippo da Bergamo’s Of Illustrious Women, Pierre de Brantôme’s Lives of Illustrious Women, Pierre Le Moyne’s Gallerie of Heroic Women, and Pietro Paolo de Ribera’s Immortal Triumphs and Heroic Enterprises of 845 Women. Whatever their embedded prejudices, these works drove home to the public the possibility of female excellence. T H E C ATA L O G S.

T H E D E B AT E . At the same time, many questions remained: Could a woman be virtuous? Could she perform noteworthy deeds? Was she even,

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Series Editors’ Introduction strictly speaking, of the same human species as men? These questions were debated over four centuries, in French, German, Italian, Spanish, and English, by authors male and female, among Catholics, Protestants, and Jews, in ponderous volumes and breezy pamphlets. The whole literary genre has been called the querelle des femmes, the “woman question.” The opening volley of this battle occurred in the first years of the fifteenth century, in a literary debate sparked by Christine de Pizan. She exchanged letters critical of Jean de Meun’s contribution to The Romance of the Rose with two French royal secretaries, Jean de Montreuil and Gontier Col. When the matter became public, Jean Gerson, one of Europe’s leading theologians, supported de Pizan’s arguments against de Meun, for the moment silencing the opposition. The debate resurfaced repeatedly over the next two hundred years. The Triumph of Women (1438) by Juan Rodríguez de la Camara (or Juan Rodríguez del Padron) struck a new note by presenting arguments for the superiority of women to men. The Champion of Women (1440–42) by Martin Le Franc addresses once again the negative views of women presented in The Romance of the Rose and offers counterevidence of female virtue and achievement. A cameo of the debate on women is included in The Courtier, one of the most widely read books of the era, published by the Italian Baldassare Castiglione in 1528 and immediately translated into other European vernaculars. The Courtier depicts a series of evenings at the court of the duke of Urbino in which many men and some women of the highest social stratum amuse themselves by discussing a range of literary and social issues. The “woman question” is a pervasive theme throughout, and the third of its four books is devoted entirely to that issue. In a verbal duel, Gasparo Pallavicino and Giuliano de’ Medici present the main claims of the two traditions. Gasparo argues the innate inferiority of women and their inclination to vice. Only in bearing children do they profit the world. Giuliano counters that women share the same spiritual and mental capacities as men and may excel in wisdom and action. Men and women are of the same essence: just as no stone can be more perfectly a stone than another, so no human being can be more perfectly human than others, whether male or female. It was an astonishing assertion, boldly made to an audience as large as all Europe. Humanism provided the materials for a positive counterconcept to the misogyny embedded in Scholastic philosophy and law and inherited from the Greek, Roman, and Christian pasts. A series of humanist treatises on marriage and family, on education and deportment, and on the nature of women helped construct these new perspectives. T H E T R E AT ISE S.

Series Editors’ Introduction The works by Francesco Barbaro and Leon Battista Alberti—On Marriage (1415) and On the Family (1434–37)—far from defending female equality, reasserted women’s responsibility for rearing children and managing the housekeeping while being obedient, chaste, and silent. Nevertheless, they served the cause of reexamining the issue of women’s nature by placing domestic issues at the center of scholarly concern and reopening the pertinent classical texts. In addition, Barbaro emphasized the companionate nature of marriage and the importance of a wife’s spiritual and mental qualities for the well-being of the family. These themes reappear in later humanist works on marriage and the education of women by Juan Luis Vives and Erasmus. Both were moderately sympathetic to the condition of women without reaching beyond the usual masculine prescriptions for female behavior. An outlook more favorable to women characterizes the nearly unknown work In Praise of Women (ca. 1487) by the Italian humanist Bartolommeo Goggio. In addition to providing a catalog of illustrious women, Goggio argued that male and female are the same in essence, but that women (reworking the Adam and Eve narrative from quite a new angle) are actually superior. In the same vein, the Italian humanist Mario Equicola asserted the spiritual equality of men and women in On Women (1501). In 1525, Galeazzo Flavio Capra (or Capella) published his work On the Excellence and Dignity of Women. This humanist tradition of treatises defending the worthiness of women culminates in the work of Henricus Cornelius Agrippa On the Nobility and Preeminence of the Female Sex. No work by a male humanist more succinctly or explicitly presents the case for female dignity. T H E W I T C H BO O KS. While humanists grappled with the issues pertaining to women and family, other learned men turned their attention to what they perceived as a very great problem: witches. Witch-hunting manuals, explorations of the witch phenomenon, and even defenses of witches are not at first glance pertinent to the tradition of the other voice. But they do relate in this way: most accused witches were women. The hostility aroused by supposed witch activity is comparable to the hostility aroused by women. The evil deeds the victims of the hunt were charged with were exaggerations of the vices to which, many believed, all women were prone. The connection between the witch accusation and the hatred of women is explicit in the notorious witch-hunting manual The Hammer of Witches (1486) by two Dominican inquisitors, Heinrich Krämer and Jacob Sprenger. Here the inconstancy, deceitfulness, and lustfulness traditionally associated with women are depicted in exaggerated form as the core features of witch behavior. These traits inclined women to make a bargain with the devil—

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Series Editors’ Introduction sealed by sexual intercourse—by which they acquired unholy powers. Such bizarre claims, far from being rejected by rational men, were broadcast by intellectuals. The German Ulrich Molitur, the Frenchman Nicolas Rémy, and the Italian Stefano Guazzo all coolly informed the public of sinister orgies and midnight pacts with the devil. The celebrated French jurist, historian, and political philosopher Jean Bodin argued that because women were especially prone to diabolism, regular legal procedures could properly be suspended in order to try those accused of this “exceptional crime.” A few experts such as the physician Johann Weyer, a student of Agrippa’s, raised their voices in protest. In 1563, he explained the witch phenomenon thus, without discarding belief in diabolism: the devil deluded foolish old women afflicted by melancholia, causing them to believe they had magical powers. Weyer’s rational skepticism, which had good credibility in the community of the learned, worked to revise the conventional views of women and witchcraft. To the many categories of works produced on the question of women’s worth must be added nearly all works written by women. A woman writing was in herself a statement of women’s claim to dignity. Only a few women wrote anything before the dawn of the modern era, for three reasons. First, they rarely received the education that would enable them to write. Second, they were not admitted to the public roles— as administrator, bureaucrat, lawyer or notary, or university professor—in which they might gain knowledge of the kinds of things the literate public thought worth writing about. Third, the culture imposed silence on women, considering speaking out a form of unchastity. Given these conditions, it is remarkable that any women wrote. Those who did before the fourteenth century were almost always nuns or religious women whose isolation made their pronouncements more acceptable. From the fourteenth century on, the volume of women’s writings rose. Women continued to write devotional literature, although not always as cloistered nuns. They also wrote diaries, often intended as keepsakes for their children; books of advice to their sons and daughters; letters to family members and friends; and family memoirs, in a few cases elaborate enough to be considered histories. A few women wrote works directly concerning the “woman question,” and some of these, such as the humanists Isotta Nogarola, Cassandra Fedele, Laura Cereta, and Olympia Morata, were highly trained. A few were professional writers, living by the income of their pens; the very first among them W O M E N ’ S WO RKS.

Series Editors’ Introduction was Christine de Pizan, noteworthy in this context as in so many others. In addition to The Book of the City of Ladies and her critiques of The Romance of the Rose, she wrote The Treasure of the City of Ladies (a guide to social decorum for women), an advice book for her son, much courtly verse, and a full-scale history of the reign of King Charles V of France. W O M E N PATRO NS. Women who did not themselves write but encouraged others to do so boosted the development of an alternative tradition. Highly placed women patrons supported authors, artists, musicians, poets, and learned men. Such patrons, drawn mostly from the Italian elites and the courts of northern Europe, figure disproportionately as the dedicatees of the important works of early feminism. For a start, it might be noted that the catalogs of Boccaccio and Alvaro de Luna were dedicated to the Florentine noblewoman Andrea Acciaiuoli and to Doña María, first wife of King Juan II of Castile, while the French translation of Boccaccio’s work was commissioned by Anne of Brittany, wife of King Charles VIII of France. The humanist treatises of Goggio, Equicola, Vives, and Agrippa were dedicated, respectively, to Eleanora of Aragon, wife of Ercole I d’Este, duke of Ferrara; to Margherita Cantelma of Mantua; to Catherine of Aragon, wife of King Henry VIII of England; and to Margaret, Duchess of Austria and regent of the Netherlands. As late as 1696, Mary Astell’s Serious Proposal to the Ladies, for the Advancement of Their True and Greatest Interest was dedicated to Princess Anne of Denmark. These authors presumed that their efforts would be welcome to female patrons, or they may have written at the bidding of those patrons. Silent themselves, perhaps even unresponsive, these loftily placed women helped shape the tradition of the other voice.

The literary forms and patterns in which the tradition of the other voice presented itself have now been sketched. It remains to highlight the major issues around which this tradition crystallizes. In brief, there are four problems to which our authors return again and again, in plays and catalogs, in verse and letters, in treatises and dialogues, in every language: the problem of chastity, the problem of power, the problem of speech, and the problem of knowledge. Of these the greatest, preconditioning the others, is the problem of chastity. T H E P R O B L E M OF CHA S TITY. In traditional European culture, as in those of antiquity and others around the globe, chastity was perceived as woman’s quintessential virtue—in contrast to courage, or generosity, or leadership, or rationality, seen as virtues characteristic of men. Opponents of THE ISSUES.

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Series Editors’ Introduction women charged them with insatiable lust. Women themselves and their defenders—without disputing the validity of the standard—responded that women were capable of chastity. The requirement of chastity kept women at home, silenced them, isolated them, left them in ignorance. It was the source of all other impediments. Why was it so important to the society of men, of whom chastity was not required, and who more often than not considered it their right to violate the chastity of any woman they encountered? Female chastity ensured the continuity of the male-headed household. If a man’s wife was not chaste, he could not be sure of the legitimacy of his offspring. If they were not his and they acquired his property, it was not his household, but some other man’s, that had endured. If his daughter was not chaste, she could not be transferred to another man’s household as his wife, and he was dishonored. The whole system of the integrity of the household and the transmission of property was bound up in female chastity. Such a requirement pertained only to property-owning classes, of course. Poor women could not expect to maintain their chastity, least of all if they were in contact with high-status men to whom all women but those of their own household were prey. In Catholic Europe, the requirement of chastity was further buttressed by moral and religious imperatives. Original sin was inextricably linked with the sexual act. Virginity was seen as heroic virtue, far more impressive than, say, the avoidance of idleness or greed. Monasticism, the cultural institution that dominated medieval Europe for centuries, was grounded in the renunciation of the flesh. The Catholic reform of the eleventh century imposed a similar standard on all the clergy and a heightened awareness of sexual requirements on all the laity. Although men were asked to be chaste, female unchastity was much worse: it led to the devil, as Eve had led mankind to sin. To such requirements, women and their defenders protested their innocence. Furthermore, following the example of holy women who had escaped the requirements of family and sought the religious life, some women began to conceive of female communities as alternatives both to family and to the cloister. Christine de Pizan’s city of ladies was such a community. Moderata Fonte and Mary Astell envisioned others. The luxurious salons of the French précieuses of the seventeenth century, or the comfortable English drawing rooms of the next, may have been born of the same impulse. Here women not only might escape, if briefly, the subordinate position that life in the family entailed but might also make claims to power, exercise their capacity for speech, and display their knowledge.

Series Editors’ Introduction Women were excluded from power: the whole cultural tradition insisted on it. Only men were citizens, only men bore arms, only men could be chiefs or lords or kings. There were exceptions that did not disprove the rule, when wives or widows or mothers took the place of men, awaiting their return or the maturation of a male heir. A woman who attempted to rule in her own right was perceived as an anomaly, a monster, at once a deformed woman and an insufficient male, sexually confused and consequently unsafe. The association of such images with women who held or sought power explains some otherwise odd features of early modern culture. Queen Elizabeth I of England, one of the few women to hold full regal authority in European history, played with such male/female images—positive ones, of course—in representing herself to her subjects. She was a prince, and manly, even though she was female. She was also (she claimed) virginal, a condition absolutely essential if she was to avoid the attacks of her opponents. Catherine de’ Medici, who ruled France as widow and regent for her sons, also adopted such imagery in defining her position. She chose as one symbol the figure of Artemisia, an androgynous ancient warrior-heroine who combined a female persona with masculine powers. Power in a woman, without such sexual imagery, seems to have been indigestible by the culture. A rare note was struck by the Englishman Sir Thomas Elyot in his Defence of Good Women (1540), justifying both women’s participation in civic life and their prowess in arms. The old tune was sung by the Scots reformer John Knox in his First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women (1558); for him rule by women, defects in nature, was a hideous contradiction in terms. The confused sexuality of the imagery of female potency was not reserved for rulers. Any woman who excelled was likely to be called an Amazon, recalling the self-mutilated warrior women of antiquity who repudiated all men, gave up their sons, and raised only their daughters. She was often said to have “exceeded her sex” or to have possessed “masculine virtue”—as the very fact of conspicuous excellence conferred masculinity even on the female subject. The catalogs of notable women often showed those female heroes dressed in armor, armed to the teeth, like men. Amazonian heroines romp through the epics of the age—Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso (1532) and Spenser’s Faerie Queene (1590–1609). Excellence in a woman was perceived as a claim for power, and power was reserved for the masculine realm. A woman who possessed either one was masculinized and lost title to her own female identity. T H E P R O B L EM OF S P E E CH. Just as power had a sexual dimension when it was claimed by women, so did speech. A good woman spoke little. ExT H E P R O B L E M OF P OWE R .

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Series Editors’ Introduction cessive speech was an indication of unchastity. By speech, women seduced men. Eve had lured Adam into sin by her speech. Accused witches were commonly accused of having spoken abusively, or irrationally, or simply too much. As enlightened a figure as Francesco Barbaro insisted on silence in a woman, which he linked to her perfect unanimity with her husband’s will and her unblemished virtue (her chastity). Another Italian humanist, Leonardo Bruni, in advising a noblewoman on her studies, barred her not from speech but from public speaking. That was reserved for men. Related to the problem of speech was that of costume—another, if silent, form of self-expression. Assigned the task of pleasing men as their primary occupation, elite women often tended toward elaborate costume, hairdressing, and the use of cosmetics. Clergy and secular moralists alike condemned these practices. The appropriate function of costume and adornment was to announce the status of a woman’s husband or father. Any further indulgence in adornment was akin to unchastity. T H E P R O B LE M OF K NOWLE D GE . When the Italian noblewoman Isotta Nogarola had begun to attain a reputation as a humanist, she was accused of incest—a telling instance of the association of learning in women with unchastity. That chilling association inclined any woman who was educated to deny that she was or to make exaggerated claims of heroic chastity. If educated women were pursued with suspicions of sexual misconduct, women seeking an education faced an even more daunting obstacle: the assumption that women were by nature incapable of learning, that reasoning was a particularly masculine ability. Just as they proclaimed their chastity, women and their defenders insisted on their capacity for learning. The major work by a male writer on female education—that by Juan Luis Vives, On the Education of a Christian Woman (1523)—granted female capacity for intellection but still argued that a woman’s whole education was to be shaped around the requirement of chastity and a future within the household. Female writers of the following generations—Marie de Gournay in France, Anna Maria van Schurman in Holland, and Mary Astell in England—began to envision other possibilities. The pioneers of female education were the Italian women humanists who managed to attain a literacy in Latin and a knowledge of classical and Christian literature equivalent to that of prominent men. Their works implicitly and explicitly raise questions about women’s social roles, defining problems that beset women attempting to break out of the cultural limits that had bound them. Like Christine de Pizan, who achieved an advanced education through her father’s tutoring and her own devices, their bold questioning makes clear the importance of training. Only when women

Series Editors’ Introduction were educated to the same standard as male leaders would they be able to raise that other voice and insist on their dignity as human beings morally, intellectually, and legally equal to men. The other voice, a voice of protest, was mostly female, but it was also male. It spoke in the vernaculars and in Latin, in treatises and dialogues, in plays and poetry, in letters and diaries, and in pamphlets. It battered at the wall of prejudice that encircled women and raised a banner announcing its claims. The female was equal (or even superior) to the male in essential nature—moral, spiritual, and intellectual. Women were capable of higher education, of holding positions of power and influence in the public realm, and of speaking and writing persuasively. The last bastion of masculine supremacy, centered on the notions of a woman’s primary domestic responsibility and the requirement of female chastity, was not as yet assaulted—although visions of productive female communities as alternatives to the family indicated an awareness of the problem. During the period 1300–1700, the other voice remained only a voice, and one only dimly heard. It did not result—yet—in an alteration of social patterns. Indeed, to this day they have not entirely been altered. Yet the call for justice issued as long as six centuries ago by those writing in the tradition of the other voice must be recognized as the source and origin of the mature feminist tradition and of the realignment of social institutions accomplished in the modern age. T H E O T H E R VO ICE .

We thank the volume editors in this series, who responded with many suggestions to an earlier draft of this introduction, making it a collaborative enterprise. Many of their suggestions and criticisms have resulted in revisions of this introduction, although we remain responsible for the final product.

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T H E OT H ER VOI CE

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hat kind of voice made itself heard in the Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa when the volume was published posthumously in 1554 by the small Venetian press of Plinio Pietrasanta? This was a voice that almost wasn’t heard, as the author’s sister, Cassandra, tearfully confesses. So painful was evoking the memory of her beloved Gaspara that were she not constrained by influential men to “gather together whatever verses of hers I could find,” the Rime would never have been published at all. Only three of Stampa’s 310 poems had been published before Stampa’s death, in one of the numerous “raccolte” popular in Italy, and especially Venice, during the 1550s and 1560s.1 And despite Cassandra’s efforts, very few of them were anthologized thereafter, at least not until that energetic doyenne of women’s literature, Luisa Bergalli, made Stampa the star of her Componimenti poetici delle più illustri rimatrici d’ogni secolo of 1726. With Antonio Rambaldo di 1. Three of Stampa’s poems were published shortly before her death, in Girolamo Ruscelli, ed., Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, nuovamente raccolte, et mandate in luce. Con un discorso di Girolamo Ruscelli (Venice, 1553): “Vieni Amor’ ” (51), “Ò hora, ò stella dispietata e cruda” (70), and “Fa ch’io rivegga Amor’ ” (75). All three poems reappeared in the Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne, raccolte per M. Lodovico Domenichi (Lucca: Vincenzo Busdragho, 1559), along with what would become 243 to Jacopo Bonetto, previously unpublished, included in this volume in Appendix A. The year after Stampa’s death, the poem to Giovanna d’Aragona (268) appeared in Del tempio alla divina signora donna Giovanna d’Aragona (Venice: Plinio Pietrasanta, 1555), edited by Girolamo Ruscelli, who presumably commissioned it from Stampa for the collection. All five of these separately published poems were subsequently included in Rime di cinquanta illustri poetesse, edited by Antonio Bulifon (Naples, 1695); my thanks to Jessica Goethals for her help in locating this volume. Finally, what I would consider the spurious capitolo “Felice in questa e più nell’altra vita,” included in this volume in appendix A, was first published in an anthology edited by Cristoforo Zabata in 1573, Nuova scelta di rime di diversi begli ingegni (Genoa: Christofforo Bellone), and attributed to Stampa.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Collalto, Bergalli went on to edit the complete poems twelve years later, thereby ushering in a reappraisal of Stampa’s role in the literary canon.2 That Stampa was virtually ignored for almost two centuries, and that she has acquired such prominence since—she is not infrequently called the finest woman poet in the Italian language—makes one question all the more the nature of the poems when they first appeared and the voice behind them. In the case of Stampa, the notion of “voice” takes on special significance. From the handful of dedicatory verses appended to the Rime, it would seem that Gaspara’s reputation rested mainly on her musical activities. Giorgio Benzone, who assisted Cassandra in editing the volume, asks when he will hear again such “concento / dolce” (sweet harmony), while Torquato Bembo, son of the more famous Pietro, imagines Stampa singing in the heavenly choir. Two other contributors, including the indefatigable Benedetto Varchi whose Sonetti would be published by Pietrasanta the following year, refer to her as a new Sappho, with Varchi suggesting that like the dove and swan, two birds of song, she died too young.3 And, indeed, other sources identify Stampa as one of many virtuose in mid-sixteenth-century Venice who entertained audiences in private homes with their lute playing and song. The “voice” of Stampa best known in her own time was thus that of a musician—albeit one who, like the lute-playing Sappho, could compose her own rhymes. And albeit one who, as Giulio Stufa insists, while she 2. See Componimenti poetici (Venice: Antonio Mora, 1726), 1:77–100. Bergalli brought together thirty-five of Stampa’s poems with the works of 113 other women. The selection of Stampa’s works outnumbers that of any other poet, including Vittoria Colonna (with twenty-six) and Veronica Gambara (eighteen). See Stuart Curran, “Recollecting the Renaissance: Luisa Bergalli’s Componimenti poetici (1726),” in Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Women Writers and Canons in England, in France and Italy, ed. Pamela Joseph Benson and Victoria Kirkham (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005), 263–86; and Adriana Chemello, “Le ricerche erudite di Luisa Bergalli,” in Geografie e genealogie letterarie: erudite, croniste, narratrici, épistolières, utopiste tra Settecento e Ottocento, ed. Adriana Chemello and Luisa Ricaldone (Padua: Il Poligrafo, 2000), 69–88. Along with Count Antonio Rambaldo di Collalto, Bergalli edited Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa con alcune altre di Collaltino e di Vinciguerra conti di Collalto, e di Baldassare Stampa (Venice: Francesco Piacentini, 1738). 3. The dedicatory poems appear in the first fourteen pages of the Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa (Venice: Plinio Pietrasanta, 1554). Giorgio Benzone writes in the final tercet, “Chi vedrà più bellezza, ò udrà concento / Dolce . . .?” (Who will ever see beauty again, or hear such sweet conceits? f. 6r); Varchi in the last two lines of his first of three poems to Stampa writes, “La Cerva, e ’l Corvo lungo tempo scampa / Ma’l Cigno tosto, e la Colomba more” (The hind and the crow survive a long time, but the swan and dove too quickly die; f. 4r). In the same poem, which is directed to Benzone, Varchi connects Stampa with Sappho: “Benzon, se’l vero qui la fama narra, / Che così chiara, e così trista suona, / Terra è, lasso, tra voi la bella e buona, / Saffo de’ nostri giorni alta GASPARRA” (Benzone, if it’s true what Fame tells us as it rings so loud and sad, alas, the Sappho of our days, the beautiful and good, the exalted Gaspara, is now earth among you). Giulio Stufa also links Stampa to Sappho when he calls her “Questa de’ nostri dì Saffo novella” (This new Sappho of our time).

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n is “equal to the Greek in her own Tuscan idiom, / she is more chaste, just as she is more beautiful.”4 There will be reason to return to Sappho, whom Longinus associated with the experience of the sublime in a treatise that was reintroduced to Europe the year of Stampa’s death. But Stufa’s emphasis on Stampa’s chastity, to be echoed by Luisa Bergalli, is hardly beside the point. Unmarried, circulating in Venice’s high society, and if we are to believe poems and independent testimonies from other writers, involved for several years with the noble Count Collaltino di Collalto (1523–68), Stampa was an unconventional figure, and her verse—often surprisingly immediate and frank about desires both fulfilled and unfulfilled—tends to be unconventional as well. Her social status would have prevented the count from ever taking their affair seriously, an affair that the sexually explicit nature of some of her rhymes makes clear was not a platonic one. Nor is the count the only man whom Stampa addresses in the pages of her Rime. Thus Stampa’s collection was distinctly different from that of the Roman aristocrat Vittoria Colonna, who memorialized her dead husband and her fidelity to him as his widow in her “rime amorose.” Could these glaring differences between the century’s most prominent woman poet and Stampa have led to her largely being ignored by her contemporaries, even if her first biographer, Alessandro Zilioli, suggests that her verses redeemed her lifestyle: “Having given herself to converse freely with well-educated men, she brought such scandal on herself that had not her great talents and the honor of her poetry concealed and almost canceled her failings, it would be necessary to cover her with blame rather than praise”?5 4. “Pari à la Greca nel Tosco idioma, / Ma più casta di lei, quanto più bella,” Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa, f. 5r. 5. Cited in Abdelkader Salza, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa e la società Veneziana del suo tempo: Nuove discussioni,” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 69 (1917): 230: “poichè datasi a conversar liberamente con gli uomini dotti, indusse tanto scandalo di sé, che se la molta virtù sua e la onorevolezza della poesia in particolare non avesse ricoperti e quasi cancellati i mancamenti suoi, sarebbe da stimarsi degna di biasmo, che di lode alcuna,” from Alessandro Zilioli’s Historia delle vite de’ poeti italiani, a manuscript copy of which was in possession of Apostolo Zeno when he and Luisa Bergalli began compiling the edition of Stampa’s verse. See, however, the continuation of Zilioli’s remarks, in which it seems that his initial appraisal, as Virginia Cox put it to me in a personal communication, is snide at best: “Ma questo è il premio nobilissimo de’ virtuosi, et altro giammai non ricevessero dalla fortuna, che i vizi loro, o restano totalmente nascosti, od almeno escusati, e difesi dalla virtù: onde l’acquisto di essa si rende tanto più desiderabile, e meritevole d’essere con ogni fatica da tutte le condizioni d’uomini procurato.” (But this is the most noble prize of these virtuosos, and they receive nothing else from fortune other than that their vices either remain completely hidden or are excused and defended by their virtuosity: whence its acquisition becomes even more desirable and worthy of being pursued with every necessary labor by all kinds of men [and women].) A pun, I believe, is intended between virtù and virtuosity.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n The project for the reader of Stampa today is to identify Stampa’s unique voice6—a voice that resonated with “an immediate mode of expression in a century unused to immediacy,” as Fiora Bassanese memorably put it7—as the product of both her free “conversations” and her deep engagement with contemporary as well as ancient poets. It is also to identify this voice as one that was comfortable with performing and hence dissimulating before audiences composed of men and women. Criticism of Stampa has tended, on the whole, to do otherwise. While Zilioli attempted to recognize the “onorevolezza” of the poetry and to separate the supposedly scandalous life from the poems, others have used that life to inform and even overwhelm an appreciation of Stampa’s literary contribution, and the poetry at times threatens to become little more than a diary, in the phrase of Benedetto Croce.8 Perhaps the most sustained attempt to draw a portrait of Stampa’s life from the Rime was the series of articles written by Abdelkader Salza in the 1910s, who deduced from Stampa’s freedom of expression when it came to passion and the apparent existence of multiple lovers that Stampa must have been a courtesan, not unlike Veronica Franco; Salza even placed the two poets together in the same volume as though to accentuate their commonalities.9 And yet to this day there is no evidence to link Stampa irrefut-

6. Virginia Cox, in Women Writers in Italy, 1400–1650 (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 89, suggests that Stampa is “sui generis,” adding that by the mid-sixteenth century, “male, as well as female, writers had by this point more or less abandoned the Petrarchan model of a love canzoniere narrating a sole erotic trajectory for the less solipsistic and more dispersive model of verse collection evolved with such success by Bembo.” Too, Antonino Sole suggests that Stampa returns to Petrarch’s lyricism and moves away from the influence of Pietro Bembo, who lacked an “autentico afflato lirico”; Studi su Bembo e della Casa (Caltanisetta: Sciascia, 2006), 100. 7. Fiora A. Bassanese, Gaspara Stampa (Boston: Twayne, 1982), 99. 8. Benedetto Croce, Poesia popolare e poesia d’arte, 2nd ed. (Bari: Laterza, 1946), 366–67. 9. Gaspara Stampa, Veronica Franco, Rime, ed. Abdelkader Salza (Bari: Laterza, 1913); the edition has an appendix with poems of Stampa’s brother Baldassare, Collaltino di Collalto, and Collaltino’s brother Vinciguerra II. As will be discussed later, Salza significantly rearranged the order of the 1554 volume. The fact that minimal documentary evidence existed to prove Salza’s hunch did not deter the scholar, who enlisted the poetry along with letters and one particularly offensive poem attacking Stampa as a “puttana” or whore to demonstrate Stampa’s affairs with men above her station. Salza uses as one piece of evidence the fact that in the Florentine copy of Il sesto libro, cited above, on p. 68, directly under the name of GASPARA STAMPA, a hand has scrawled “Puttana venetiana” with such force that the brown ink has leaked to the page behind it; I have consulted the edition in the Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale (Rinasc. Op. Gen. 314 Libri VI 1553) to verify Salza’s observation. He also mentions one sonnet that survives from an apparent group of twenty that condemns Stampa as a whore, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 62 (1913): 71–73.

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ably to the lifestyle of a Franco. At the same time, while Stampa may not have been a courtesan,11 the designation of virtuosa apparently first given to Stampa by Lucrezia Gonzaga in a letter to Ortensio Lando published in 155212 was not entirely flattering in a city in which patrician norms were the rule and women were kept under severe constraints.13 As professional singers, such women traveled to the city’s various ridotti or salons where they performed for, among others, single and married men.14 The real question is thus to what extent the life can and should be gleaned from the art—and vice versa—and what cues Stampa herself left to assist us.15 10. Much has been said on Venice’s openness to cultural and intellectual innovation, and the presence of the presses in the city made it a particularly fertile place for publication. As only one recent example of the connection between the lively atmosphere created by the city’s poligrafi or publishers and the success Venice’s women had in disseminating their works, see Luciana Borsetto, “Narciso ed Eco. Figura e scrittura nella lirica femminile del Cinquecento: esemplificazioni ed appunti,” in Nel cerchio della luna: Figure di donna in alcuni testi del XVI secolo, ed. Marina Zancan (Venice: Marsilio, 1983), esp. 179–81. 11. As may have been the case with Ippolita Mirtilla, to whom Stampa has a capitolo (291). On the role of the courtesan in sixteenth-century Venice, see Rita Casagrande, Le cortegiane Veneziane nel ’500 (Milan: Longanesi, 1968), and Margaret F. Rosenthal, The Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citizen and Writer in Sixteenth-Century Venice (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992). Salza notes that Ippolita, about whom little is known, was identified by Ortensio Lando in his Sette libri de’ cathaloghi (Venice, 1552) as “Ippolita Roma Poetessa Padua,” and suggests that the fact that she was related to the courtesan Marietta Mirtilla meant that she must have been a courtesan too; “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” 61–62. 12. “Ho letto più di mille fiate il sonetto composto dalla virtuosa Madonna Gaspa [sic] Stampa in lode vostra” (I read the sonnet composed by the virtuosa Madonna Gaspara Stampa in your honor over a thousand times); Lucrezia Gonzaga, Lettere della molta illustre . . . donna Lucretia Gonzaga da Gazuolo (Venice: Scotto, 1552), 325. For many years the critical consensus has been that Ortensio Lando himself was the author of the epistolary collection, but Meredith Ray argues that Gonzaga, while collaborating with Lando, was responsible for many of the letters: Writing Gender in Women’s Letter Collections of the Italian Renaissance (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009), 87–94. Stampa’s sonnet to Lando, perhaps the one to which Gonzaga refers, is 270. 13. On the dynamics of gender in early modern Venice, see Stanley Chojnacki, Women and Men in Renaissance Venice (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000). Particularly relevant from the point of view of Stampa’s relationship with single men in Venice is the final chapter, “Subaltern Patriarchs: Patrician Bachelors,” 244–56. Also see Guido Ruggiero, The Boundaries of Eros: Sex Crime and Sexuality in Renaissance Venice (New York: Oxford University Press, 1985) and Violence in Early Renaissance Venice (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1980). 14. On the problematic dynamics of female performance, see Justin Flosi, “On Locating the Courtesan in Italian Lyric: Distance and the Madrigal Texts of Costanzo Festa,” in The Courtesan’s Arts: Cross-Cultural Perspectives, ed. Martha Feldman and Bonnie Gordon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006), esp. 133–35. 15. Recent work has attempted to focus more on the poetry than on the poet, beginning with Fiora A. Bassanese’s study, Gaspara Stampa; see, for example, her characterization of most

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n They are cues that are admittedly difficult to discern. Gaspara’s prefatory letter to Collaltino, in which she identifies him only as her “illustrious lord,” suggests that she had gathered her verses in a “libretto” or little book intended to win his pity. Yet the Rime assembled by Cassandra six months after Gaspara’s death contain far more than the some two hundred verses to Collaltino. With her own dedicatory letter to Italy’s greatest poet of the mid-cinquecento, Giovanni della Casa, Cassandra Stampa gave the volume yet another biographical twist. Given the absence of any extant manuscripts of Stampa’s poems, it is difficult to know what voice would have emerged had Gaspara not died suddenly at thirty-one and how it would have been received. All we have are the Rime that Cassandra and her coeditor, Giorgio Benzoni, bequeathed to the world and tantalizing suggestions elsewhere of a life that was both learned and tempestuously and richly lived. LI F E A N D PER F OR M AN C E

What is known about Gaspara Stampa’s life has been pieced together largely from correspondence and civic records as well as various dedications to her during the last decade of her life. Born in Padua probably in 1523, to Bartolomeo, a prosperous jewel merchant, and his wife, Cecilia, Gaspara was educated at an early age in Latin, along with her sister Cassandra and brother Baldassare. When Cecilia was widowed in the early 1530s, she moved her three young children from Padua to her native Venice, where it seems that their education continued, possibly in the capable hands of the grammarian and poet Fortunio Spira. By the mid-1540s the sisters were both acclaimed for their musical skills, which they may have cultivated under the tutelage of Perissone Cambio. The organist Girolamo Parabosco identified Gaspara with Orpheus, asking in his Lettere amorose of 1545, “who has ever heard such sweet and elegant words . . . and what will I say of that angelic voice that struck the air with its divine accents and

nineteenth- and twentieth-century commentary on Stampa, including Salza, Croce, Donadoni, and others: “it was the woman and not the poet who enchanted critics and artists alike” (31). Much of the biographical chapter of Bassanese’s book is an attempt to reject Salza’s interpretation of Stampa as a courtesan. Subsequent work has tended rather to acknowledge that Stampa may well have been a courtesan, while downplaying early tendencies to read the verse as refracted through Stampa’s profession. Hence Smarr and Zancan, for example, mention the likelihood of Stampa’s status as a courtesan only in passing: Janet Smarr, “Gaspara Stampa’s Poetry for Performance,” Quidditas: Journal of the Rocky Mountain Medieval and Renaissance Association 12 (1991): 78, and Marina Zancan, Il doppio itinerario della scrittura (Turin: Einaudi, 1998), 160.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n made such sweet harmony that it awakened spirit and life in the coldest stones?”16 Cecilia Stampa’s house in the neighborhood of what is now San Trovaso seems to have been visited by a number of cultural figures who gathered around the young Baldassare, an aspiring poet who returned to Padua to study law sometime before 1544.17 His death at age nineteen prompted one of his close friends, the industrious Francesco Sansovino, to dedicate several works to Gaspara. One was his edition of Boccaccio’s youthful Ameto, in which he invokes Stampa’s “most perfect judgment” in interpreting Boccaccio and asks that she pass the book on to two young men who had been debating about whether Boccaccio’s style was equal to that of Castiglione.18 Another dedication of some interest to English readers of Stampa was that of Sansovino’s 1545 edition of a lecture by Benedetto Varchi to the Accademia degl’Infiammati of Padua on a poem (“Cura che di timor”) by Giovanni della Casa.19 Delivered in Stampa’s hometown, albeit on an occasion in 1540 at which Gaspara was not likely to have been present, the lecture was translated in 1615 as The Blazon of Jealousie in London by one R[ichard] T[oste] and contains the first-known mention of Stampa in English.20 In his appended “Lives of the Authour of this Worke,” Toste writes of Varchi:

16. Cited in Salza, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” 16. 17. For an entertaining contribution to the study of private life in Venice in the Renaissance, see Pompeo Molmenti, La storia di Venezia nella vita privata dalle origini alla caduta della repubblica, 5th ed., 3 vols. (Bergamo: Istituto italiano d’arti grafiche, 1910–11). 18. “Vi digniate mostrarlo a M. Francesco Cavazza e a Messer Giovanni Roma, accioche essi veggano che verso quel di noi disputammo dello stile del Conte Baldessar Castiglione e del Boccaccio, fu piu tosto per passar il tempo, che perche io habbia in opinione che lo stil de l’Ameto sia equale a quello del Conte”; Ameto Comedia delle Nimphe Fiorentine di Messer Giovanni Boccaccio da Certaldo. Con La Dichiaratione de i luoghi difficili di Messer Francesco Sansovino (Venice: Giolito, 1545), ff. vii–viii. 19. Sansovino dedicated a third work to Stampa, Ragionamento d’Amore, a dialogue about both the idealized and the real world of romance, drawing largely on the Decameron and other slightly scandalous stories. In the dedication, Sansovino speaks of Baldassare as a youth of great promise and suggests that just as he was seen as “almost a father” by Baldassare, so he would like to offer to the deprived Gaspara some guidance in the world. Thus he sends her his present work so that he may teach Gaspara to “imparar a fuggir gli inganni che usano i perversi uomini alle candide e pure donzelle, come voi sete. E con questa vi ammaestro e vi consiglio a procedere ne’ vostri gloriosi studi, fuggendo ogni occasione che disturbar vi potesse dalla impresa vostra” (to learn to flee the deceits that perverse men use with naïve and innocent young girls, such as you are. And with this I would also advise and teach you to proceed in your glorious studies, fleeing every occasion that might arise that might disturb your undertaking); Ragionamento di Messer Francesco Sansovino, in Trattati d’amore del Cinquecento, ed. Giuseppe Zonta (Bari: Laterza, 1912), 184. 20. Toste also published numerous other translations from the Italian, including the first two cantos from Orlando innamorato in 1597 and several tales from Orlando furioso in 1598.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n As he grew in yeeres, so did hee profit in Learning, and in his youthfull time dedicated himselfe unto the vertuous Service of a faire and learned Gentlewoman, called Gaspara Stampa (as by the Epistle written before you may perceive), hee making account of her, more for the beautie of her minde, than for that of her body; she being as much admired for her excellent Qualities, as any one Gentlewoman of her time in all Italy.21 “More for the beautie of her minde, than for that of her body” may prompt the question that has already been posed with respect to the vita by Zilioli in the late 1500s. But it must have been the beauty of her voice that contributed to Stampa’s early success as a singer at Venetian literary and musical gatherings, as another dedication to Stampa, that of the Primo libro di madrigali a quatro voci of 1547 by the musician Perissone Cambio, makes clear: Noble lady, well might I be reproved by the wise and learned composers of this sweet and admirable science—reproved in this science, yes, but no man in the world will ever be able to say that I have had little judgment in dedicating these notes of mine to your ladyship, however they may be. Because it is well known by now—and not only in this fortunate city, but almost everywhere—that no woman in the world loves music as much as you do, nor possesses it to such a rare degree. And thousands upon thousands of fine and noble spirits attest to this who, having heard your sweet harmonies, have given you the name of divine siren, remaining over time your most devoted servants, among whom I am as devoted as any. I come with this my little token and gift to refresh the memory of the love that I bear for your talent, begging that you deign to find me worthy to be placed where you place the innumerable throngs of those who adore and love your rare talents and beauties. And to your graces I commend and offer myself. Most devoted servant, Pierisson Cambio.22 21. Richard Toste, “Lives of the Authour of this Worke, Benedetto Varchi and Francesco the publisher of the same,” in Benedetto Varchi, The Blazon of Jealousie, trans. Richard Toste (London: John Busbie, 1615). 22. “Valorosa signora, io potrò ben esser ripreso appresso ai saggi, & dotti compositori di questa dolce et mirabile scienza: in essa scienza ma no mi potra gia huomo del mondo dire giamai ch’io habbia havuto poco giuditio nel dedicare queste mie note, quale elle siano, alla S.V. perche si sa bene hormai. & non pure in questa felice citta: ma quasi in ogni parte, niuna donna al mondo amar piu la Musica di quello che fate voi, ne altra piu raramente possederla,

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n No doubt Cambio’s insistence that Stampa is known not only in Venice “ma quasi in ogni parte” is exaggerated. Yet by the age of twenty-three, Stampa was famous and influential enough for a newcomer like Cambio to solicit her attentions for his own advancement. Or as Martha Feldman hypothesizes, “Perissone’s plea to be placed among Stampa’s adoring throngs might be glossed as a hope that his songs will grace her repertory. It might also have been a way of insinuating himself as fellow singer in the elect circles of literary academies with which Stampa surrounded herself in various private homes, including her own.”23 This solicitation thus extended to what Dawn de Rycke thinks was an attempt to write in Stampa’s own style of “solo and quasi-improvisatory singing.”24 And as Feldman notes, it also captures the tenor of Stampa’s life in the decade 1544–54. Numerous figures to whom she wrote verses were themselves part of Venice’s rich and lively musical circles, such as the literary critic and music enthusiast Girolamo Molin, Elena Barozzi (married to Antonio Zantani, well known as a patron of musical gatherings), Domenico Venier, the powerful if bedridden cultural patriarch who late in life patronized Veronica Franco,25 and Fortunio Spira, a number of whose madrigals were set to music in his lifetime.26 Girolamo Parabosco’s I diporti of 1550, a collection of novelle in the style of Boccaccio, has Spira, Molin, Venier, and Stampa’s fellow Paduan Sperone Speroni, the formidable writer and critic, engaged not only in storytelling but in conversations about music. Parabosco himself, as we have seen, has a letter to Stampa in his Lettere amorose of 1545 as well as a verse written after her death in which he imagines the “divina Stampa” in heaven surrounded by “I pargoletti Amori, / E dicon sempre lieti in dolce canto: / Venere è questa, a & di questo ne fanno fede i mille, & mille spirti gentili, & nobili: i quali udito havendo i dolci concenti vostri, v’hanno dato nome di divino sirena, restandovi per tempo devotissimi servi, fra i quali, io devoto quanto altro, vengo con questo mio picciolo segno & presente, a rinfrescarle nela memoria, lo amore ch’io porto alle sue virtu, pregandola che si degni, ch’io sia degno di esser posto dove ella pone la innumerabil turba di quei ch’adorano, & amano le sue rare virtu, & bellezze, & alla sua bona gratia mi raccomando & offero. Devotissimo servo Pierisson Cambio.” The translation is that of Martha Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995), 373. 23. Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice, 374. 24. “Several features in the individual voices indicate that the madrigals in [Perissone’s book] may indeed have been intended for Stampa (or others) to sing as solo song.” See Dawn De Rycke, “On Hearing the Courtesan in a Gift of Song: The Venetian Case of Gaspara Stampa,” in Feldman and Gordon, Courtesan’s Arts, 125. 25. Feldman addresses some of these families in City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice, 47–80. Also see her “The Academy of Domenico Venier,” Renaissance Quarterly 44.3 (1991): 476–512. 26. Spira’s works appeared in the collection Libro primo de canti a quat[t]ro voci sopra madraiali [sic] & altre rime, ed. Giovanni Thomaso Cimello (Venice: Gardane, 1548).

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n noi diletta Madre” (little cupids, always saying happily in sweet song: This is Venus, our lovely Mother).27 Surrounded by composers, poets, and musicians, Stampa may have felt inspired to begin writing her own verses for musical settings—settings to which she sometimes explicitly refers.28 The god of love expresses himself in “tempre usate” in poem 306 and in poem 16 Stampa says she would like to have words and conceits at the ready so they might be “scritte e cantate”—written and sung.29 While Stampa’s profession as a virtuosa thus seems well established, little is known of how exactly Stampa might have performed. A stray remark by a certain Orazio Brunetto, who wrote several letters to Stampa, is one of few clues that we have. He writes that whenever he reads Petrarch’s famous canzone “Chiare, fresche et dolci acque” (126), he hears in his mind’s ear Stampa’s musical rendition.30 Lynn Hooker notes that Stampa’s “Chiaro e famoso mare” (68) and “Alma celeste e pura” (229) are both based on the same rhyme and metrical scheme as Petrarch’s canzone 126; Stampa even borrows considerably from Petrarch’s vocabulary. It may be the case that Stampa developed her own solo songs from what Martha Feldman calls “skeletal melodic formulas used for Petrarch’s verse”—a development that has much in common with courtesans’ uses of stock melodies for improvisations. Feldman goes on to observe that “the mere fact that all three of Stampa’s canzoni share the exact same poetic form, down to the last syllable and rhyme scheme, makes it quite likely that she performed them all using the same or a similar succession of melodic phrases.”31 While we can reconstruct with difficulty the performative contexts for Stampa’s verses—most likely 27. Cited in Salza’s edition of Stampa’s Rime, in the section “Rime di diversi in lode e in morte di Gaspara Stampa,” 188. 28. The anonymous six-line madrigal in Cambio’s Primo libro di madrigali a quatro voci opening with the teasing question “Sapete amanti perché Amor è cieco” (Lovers, do you know why Love is blind?) may find an echo in Stampa’s own madrigal of nine lines, “Sapete voi perche ogn’un non accende” (296). The frequent practice of beginning a madrigal with a question recurs in Stampa’s other madrigals as well. Thus: “Con quai segni Signor, volete ch’io / Vi mostri l’amor mio . . .?” (308); “Conte dov’ è andata / La fè sì tosto, che m’havete data?” (305), and the final one in the 1554 collection, “Deh, perche soffri Amor . . .?” (310). See Perissone Cambio, Il primo libro di madrigali a quatro voci [1547], ed. Martha Feldman (New York: Garland, 1989). 29. See Smarr, “Gaspara Stampa’s Poetry for Performance,” especially 72–79, for a sample of Stampa’s most explicit references to her music. 30. Cited in Abdelkader Salza, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa e la società Veneziana del suo tempo,” 298–99; Smarr remarks on the passage in “Gaspara Stampa’s Poetry for Performance,” 62. 31. Martha Feldman, “The Courtesan’s Voice,” in Feldman and Gordon, Courtesan’s Arts, 116. For Lynn Hooker’s work, see the citation in Feldman, City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice, 106 n. 74.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n she would have performed them as single solo arias as opposed to complex polyphonic pieces—perhaps the most important points with respect to her poetry and her role as a virtuosa in Venetian society are made by Janet Smarr: that Stampa’s poems were “potentially designed for actual performance; that even her written verse was addressed to the same people who had seen her perform; and that being taken seriously as a performer contributed to the acceptance of her public voice as a poet.”32 It may well have been during such a performance that Stampa met Count Collaltino di Collalto, member of a prestigious family with feudal holdings in and around Treviso, perhaps sometime during the Christmas season.33 Over two hundred poems in the collection are focused on the count, feudal landholder, soldier, and poet. He seems to have patronized the same figures who attended the gatherings Stampa appeared at, perhaps at times singing there himself—as Stampa suggests in a poem (31) comparing him to Orpheus.34 In particular, he was a benefactor to Venice’s polygraphers and writers, including Giuseppe Betussi and Ortensio Lando (the same Lando to whom Lucrezia Gonzaga directed her letter, and to whom Gaspara wrote a poem.)35 In the late 1540s, Collaltino went to England to offer his military services to the king; by 1549, he was in France to fight against the English, assisting Henri II in his attempt to conquer Boulogne-sur-Mer. Subsequent military engagements included battles outside of Parma, Bologna, and 32. Smarr, “Gaspara Stampa’s Poetry for Performance,” 75. One might follow up with a point made by Nicola Longo in his edition of Parabosco’s 1551 Primo libro dei madrigali (Rome: Bulzoni, 1987), 33: before the author was a poet, he was a professional musician (“prima di essere un poeta, era un musicista di professione”), whose poetry written to music is “tutta giocata fra assonanze e giochi verbali.” 33. As Stampa would seem to reveal in 2, when she suggests that “it was near the day that the Creator came . . . forth from the virginal womb” that she first received into her own heart her lord, punning on his name by suggesting that he might have easily chosen a “luogo più alto” in which to make his nest. (She never explicitly addresses him by his full name; the earliest indication that Collaltino was indeed the intended “Signore” is in Zilioli’s Historia.) A bachelor when they met, Collaltino married Giulia Torelli in 1557—three years after Stampa’s death, and hence at least three years after she suggests in poem 179 that he was insulting her by taking a wife. See the life of Collaltino in Dizionario biografico degli Italiani (Rome: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1982–), 26:780–81. 34. Collaltino’s poetic efforts can be deemed modest at best. Eleven of his poems were published in the 1738 edition of Stampa’s Rime. 35. Giuseppe Betussi served as Collaltino’s secretary and dedicated to him several of his published works, including an acrostic poem, his edition of Boccaccio’s Del libro dei casi degli uomini illustri (1545), and his Dialogo amoroso of 1543, in which he mentions Stampa’s brother Baldassare, Francesco Sansovino, and Francesca Baffo. Collaltino was also on good terms with Pietro Aretino, from whom several letters survive; they are in the 1738 volume edited by Bergalli (277–84).

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Siena, where in 1554 he fought with the French and Sienese against Spanish troops. Stampa comments on these military adventures and the frequent absences they necessitate, while she also laments his visits to his feudal holdings in the Marca Trevigiana,36 or south of Venice in Lendenara. Yet Collaltino is not the only beloved invoked in the Rime, and certainly not the only eligible bachelor Stampa would have met as virtuosa. One other man is explicitly mentioned, in an acrostic poem (216, not unlike one that Giuseppe Betussi composed for Collaltino): Bartolomeo Zen, the subject of a dozen poems that are among Stampa’s most irreverent, as she asks Christ to help influence Zen to return her attentions. A third figure, identified only as Guiscardo, possibly the Bergamasque nobleman Giovanni Andrea Viscardo, seems to have longed for her with affections she claims she would have wished more chaste. Yet had Stampa lived to publish her poetry, it is not clear where she would have placed the Zen and Guiscardo poems in relation to the poetry to Collaltino—or whether she would have published them at all. In 1554, barely thirty-one, she died in Venice in the house of Geronimo Morosini where her mother had first brought her family. Luisa Bergalli infers in her biography that she was poisoned. Other critics have settled for a less dramatic interpretation of this entry in the parochial archives: “On the twenty-third day of April, 1554, Gasparina Stampa, taken ill from fever, colic, and matrix sickness for fifteen days, died on this day in the home of Geronimo Morosini”; according to Maria Bellonci, “it may simply refer to a fatal attack of the flu.”37 T H E S H A PE OF T H E R I ME

Stampa’s poetry is meant to be spoken and heard—and, given her musical talents, no doubt sung. This accounts for what have been two of the most notable aspects of her writing. One is the poems’ frequent internal rhymes, which create lilting rhythms within the tercet’s or quatrain’s more formal structure, such as in 62: “E que’ vermigli e bianchi fior, che’n schiera / Amor nel viso di sua man comparte / del mio Signor, del gran figlio di Marte, / daranno 36. His brother Vinciguerra, to whom Stampa dedicated two poems urging him to influence Collaltino on her behalf (237 and 260), was abbot of a monastery in Nervesa, north of Treviso. The polygrapher Ruscelli dedicated to him his Della difesa della lingua vulgare (Venice, 1551), in which he mentions discussions about the vernacular in which Vinciguerra and the grammarian Gabriel Trifone participated, the latter also the dedicatee of a poem by Stampa (252). 37. “Adì 23 April 1554 M. Gasparina Stampa in le case de messer Hieronymo Morosini la qual è stà malà da febre et mal colico, et mal de mare zorni 15, è morta in questo zorno.” Maria Bellonci, “Cronologia,” from Gaspara Stampa, Rime, 40.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n à gli occhi miei l’ultima sera.” The other is their informality and their rejection of complex syntactical moments, or what Fiora Bassanese has called the “everyday quality” of the verse.38 Hence their not infrequent expressive interjections: the “deh” that opens eleven poems, the “lassa” that infiltrates several dozen of them. Many poems, especially the madrigals, take wing as questions to absent or imagined interlocutors, while others seem to begin in the midst of an exchange, opening with a “ma,” a “poi,” a “se.” Not a few of them can be said to turn on a single word or phrase. It is not difficult to distinguish keywords in many of the sonnets, such as 44 with its repetitions of “fiamma” and “pianto,” or 23 with its requests of the Graces that they “fate fede,” “fatemi gratiosi,” and “fate . . . / che non mi lascin preda de’ martiri.” The typical Petrarchan sonnet has a marked turn between the octet and two tercets; Stampa’s tend to blur this distinction. Many a first tercet begins with an “e,” a “poi,” a “perché,” a “così.” On occasion, it is the second tercet that introduces a “ma” (180) or an “anzi,” in some ways anticipating the Shakespearean sonnet that uses its final couplet to change the direction of the poem. Yet in general, the turn, such as it is, seems to have already taken place at the sonnet’s start, the voice intruding into a conversation or argument that began before the poem itself. The order of the poems within the collection grows out of these various conversations and interjections, although Stampa’s hand in the final order must be left open to question until an autograph manuscript can be found. Several pairs of sonnets seem to answer each other: in 88 the poet asks Love to disenchant her, while in 89 she calls herself a “fool” for having made the request. 122/123 and 127/128 set up similar dialogues between the poet and an alter ego (already seen in the early ballata “Di chi ti lagni” [220] between Amor and a male lover—the only time Stampa takes on a male voice). As for the Rime’s larger organizational structure, the ear for different forms and the inclination to gather them together by punctuating the sonnets with an occasional sestina or canzone may have emerged from Stampa’s musical experience. The 1554 volume of 310 poems is grouped by genre, with the distinctions between the sonnets, the six capitoli, and the nineteen madrigals in both octosyllabic and hendecasyllabic verse arguably functioning to create three different sections or leitmotifs of the Rime. Once again, we may be alerted to an aspect of Stampa’s musicianship. John Walter Hill has suggested that in the early seicento and possibly earlier, singing pupils learned to improvise sonnets first, then madrigals, and then various forms of ottava rima. Is it possible that the collection as we have it is a singer’s songbook, 38. Bassanese, Gaspara Stampa, 99.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n arranged in the order of the genres to which a singer would have come to his or her art?39 In addition to this generic categorization, there is a visual break in the 1554 Rime that shaped Salza’s decision in his 1913 edition (adopted by subsequent editors) to separate the love poetry (madrigals and five of the capitoli included) from what he called the “Rime varie,” largely poems directed to a host of contemporary Venetians other than Collaltino.40 In the 1554 collection, immediately after the ballata, “Di chi ti lagni” (220), there is a marked break; the rest of folio Hiiv is blank, and the following page is marked off with a decorative banner beneath which Stampa places a poem to Henri II. A second decorative banner follows on folio Hiiiv with a poem to Henri’s wife, the Italian Caterina de’ Medici, and the sonnets immediately following are addressed to the circle of poets and polygraphers mentioned earlier. Yet conceiving the collection as a bipartite structure, as Salza does, is too simplistic. The breakdown by genre makes the 1554 edition at least a three-part affair. In turn, the sonnets before the poem to Henri II are periodically broken up by other verse forms: two canzoni, two sestinas, a ballata. Moreover, the 1554 edition ends not with the penitential poems as in Salza’s text but with the madrigals, all of which take love as either their subject or, as in the final poem, their interlocutor. The collection closes with Stampa’s characteristic “deh” as she asks Amore how he can stand to watch her suffer. Thus does the original edition, unlike Salza’s rearranged text, “open and close with rhymes of love,”41 as Marina Zancan has suggested. Yet whether this order is in fact “disordine,” as Zancan goes on to claim,42 is less clear. As Ann Rosalind Jones has commented apropos the 1554 edition, “one result of this arrangement is that Rime comes across as a poet’s workbook, the history of [Stampa’s] use of a variety of lyric forms and of her involvement not only with the inaccessible count but with a 39. “Training a Singer for ‘musica recitativa’ in Early Seventeenth-Century Italy: The Case of Baldassare,” in Musicologia humana: Studies in Honor of Warren and Ursula Kirkendale (Florence: Olschki, 1994), 345–58. My thanks to Suzanne Cusick for bringing this reference to my attention. 40. At the same time, Stampa frequently mentions Collaltino to the dedicatees of these poems. Thus Stampa writes to Venier (227) of “mio chiaro Conte,” addresses Collaltino’s brother Vinciguerra in the hope that he will influence Collaltino to write her (260), asks Molin to commemorate her “Colle sublime” (241) in his verses, and in 252, in a poem to the deceased Gabriele Trifone, says that were it not for her constant weeping for Collaltino, she would fill his urn with her tears. 41. Zancan, Il doppio itinerario, 169. 42. Ibid.

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range of friends and poet-colleagues, male and female.” Or, following on the suggestion of John Walter Hill, a singer’s workbook. At the same time, the kernel of the sequence is undeniably the poems addressed to Collaltino, which are largely uninterrupted through 204, “Ardente mio disir’.” To attempt to trace a linear narrative is an enterprise doomed to fail, even if after an introductory sonnet it begins alluding to the first time Stampa saw her beloved, and ends with her hailing a new love. Within this arc that takes us from a chance meeting at Christmastime to a final recognition of the affair’s end, the poet experiences jealousy, despair, rage that on one occasion leads her to address the count with the informal “tu,” and joy. The story is also paralleled by the occasional doubling of the poetic persona as the pastoral figure Anassilla; portrayed as the desolate and abandoned woman, in one sonnet she imagines others reading her tombstone and taking pity on her. There are a dozen sonnets commenting on what could be called the heyday of passion, beginning with 100 when the poet learns that Collaltino is returning, culminating in 104 with her praise of the night that she wishes would endure forever, and continuing through 111. Even here, however, in verses that are the sequence’s most explicit celebrations of requited love, we have the assumption that the union will be brief. As in 189, a poem alluding to Eurydice’s death on the happiest day of her life—her wedding—it is clear that in the midst of greatest joy the crisis of its ending looms. This crisis, however, is conceived in terms not of death—Stampa’s or, far more tragically, Collaltino’s —but of the count’s inevitable departure, which one day must be final because of his inability to reciprocate in the ways his beloved demands. The jealousy that dominates the latter half of the sequence is prefigured by earlier insinuations of the count’s coldness, articulated in a poem (4) that seems to bespeak nothing but praise: “Venus made him beautiful and lithe / and Mercury gave him eloquence: but the moon / made him colder than I would have wished.” One poem later, this very lord is already threatening to leave the poet, thus forcing her to experience the coldness winter bequeaths to the world. And we are only at the fifth sonnet! Clusters of poems address a single event, or theme, or text. Collaltino’s departures for France or his estates in the Veneto form the basis for several such clusters, always prompting the poet’s despair. Sonnets 50 and 55–58 reflect on Collaltino as a work of art that Stampa sculpts or paints as well as 43. “Bad Press: Modern Editors versus Early Modern Women Poets (Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, Veronica Franco),” in Benson and Kirkham, Strong Voices, Weak History, 296.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n others, including Titian and Michelangelo. Another section takes up Collaltino’s supposed talents in poetry (115–19), as Stampa rhetorically asks him in 117 “what use” is it to take up his pen to praise her when “nothing in me merits / the high honors you’d bestow on me: / and if there’s something there, why, isn’t it all yours?” Poems 92 and 93 with their openings resonant of two famous similes in Virgil’s Aeneid 4—the comparisons of Aeneas to an oak tree and Dido to a wounded doe—suggest the presence of the epic’s best-known love story. This minisequence ends with a sestina meditating on the beloved’s absence and the poet’s imprisonment within the “nebbia,” as though she, like a despondent Dido, were forced to watch her beloved sail off into the mist. While these poems mark a Virgilian moment, the final sonnets to Collaltino, 198–204, may echo the first four cantos of Dante’s Commedia, perhaps suggesting that Collaltino’s definitive departure plunges the poet into an inferno all her own. The sequence of sonnets directed to Collaltino really “ends,” however, not with the poet’s second passion for Zen, or the unwanted attentions of the young Guiscardo, but with three brief sections. One consists of a canzone and four poems to a recently deceased nun, most likely Angelica Paola Antonia de’ Negri; a second section of eight poems directed to Christ (275– 82) Salza placed at the very end of his 1913 edition; a third group of three poems champions Collaltino’s moral perfections rather than the physical beauty on which Stampa has lavished so much attention (283–85). Rime 285 in fact banishes the very Muse that has taught Stampa to sing of her beloved, asking her to “sing no more” and effectively reversing the traditional epic pattern that places the invocation to the Muse at the beginning of a work rather than at its close. And yet “Canta tu Musa” marks the end only of the sonnets, not of the songbook itself. The six capitoli in terza rima follow, in which the poet addresses “donne” who find themselves “free and untrammeled by the amorous noose”; Collaltino; a Muse reborn; and the beloved friend, Mirtilla. We then have the madrigals, which in their brevity, wit, and lilting rhymes form an at-times ironic, even humorous epilogue to a poetic libretto that otherwise has taken love so seriously. Marked largely by questions posed to the elusive count and by playful back-and-forth exchanges with Love, the madrigals also flirt with the genre of paradox, of which the previously mentioned Ortensio Lando was a master:44 44. See Lando’s Paradossi, cioè, Sentenze fuori del comun parere, ed. Antonio Corsaro (Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2000); and Paul Grendler, Critics of the Italian World, 1530–60: Anton Francesco Doni, Nicolò Franco and Ortensio Lando (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969).

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n If the food of Love on which his servants dine is suffering without relief, how can I die, I’m so nurtured by grief? (301) PLA CES

The world of the Rime is largely an internal one. Even if “Adria”—Venice—is named dozens of times, we do not see the bustling Venice of Aretino’s scabrous comedies, the grand palazzi of the anonymous La venexiana, the Piazza San Marco with its quacks and mountebanks familiar to us from sixteenthcentury prints, the canals and gondolas Veronica Franco will invoke in her capitoli.45 Stampa’s gaze may be inward, but it is also directed outward— facing away from the city and toward the sea where she unleashes her laments and cries, as well as toward the dwelling place where Collaltino resides in Susegana, some seventy kilometers north of Venice in the foothills of the Dolomites, and where, for a brief sojourn early in the sequence (35, 37), she claims to reside as well. This is the place, too, through which flows the Piave, or Anasso, from the name it had in antiquity, the river from which Stampa’s pastoral persona, Anassilla, takes her name. This fluvial imagery links Stampa to her lover and the terra ferma where he lives even though she is far from him on the shores of Venice where the river empties out into the Adriatic. For it is the sea, the shore, the winds—Venice as a natural haven, populated by nymphs and a bereft Anassilla—that represent the otherwise crowded city that Stampa made her own for some twenty-four years. Venus herself, born like the city from the sea,46 makes appearances as Love’s mother and companion of the Graces, as in poem 255, dedicated to the Venetian beauty Elena Barozzi Zantani, or as the defender of the women who were present when a great warrior died in the midst of a party during carnival season “per man servili” (245)—one of the few references to the city’s 45. See Fiora Bassanese’s remarks in “Defining Spaces: Venice in the Poetry of Gaspara Stampa and Veronica Franco,” in Medusa’s Gaze: Essays on Gender, Literature, and Aesthetics in the Italian Renaissance, in Honor of Robert J. Rodini, ed. Paul Ferrara, Eugenio Giusti, and Jane Tylus (Boca Raton, FL: Bordighera, 2004), 91–105, where she argues for the essentially Petrarchan landscape of Stampa’s poetry. 46. See, among other works, Edward Muir’s discussion of Venus and Venice in Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 15.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n busy and at-times dangerous activities. This latter poem aside, the contrast that Stampa will make between Venice and the surrounding Veneto where Collaltino too often lingers is generally not one between city and country, corruption and purity, but simply between two loci imbued with nature’s charms, albeit the latter is far more hilly and verdant than the former with its windy harbor where the “schiera” or company of like-minded poets addressed in the latter half of the collection also live.47 Appropriately, there are many navigational references to boats, compasses, helmsmen, as well as talk of weather, fair winds and foul, north winds and southern winds, “bonacce” (clear sailing days) and days besieged by tempests and storms. Collaltino’s lands are more sheltered, protected by the hill synonymous with his name, his shade, his trees. In one often-cited sonnet (145) he reposes in a restful cave; in another, Stampa imagines him riding horses while she remains stranded in “Adria” (147). Much of the descriptiveness of both the lands of the Veneto and the shores of Venice comes from the longer capitoli, where Stampa has the leisure to envision life without him. Poem 290 has the poet calling woefully to the lord who has left her to travel to Lendenara, southwest of Venice. She asks her Muse to make the “waves and shores” weep with her while she laments his absence and expresses the harsh sting of lust in some of her most graphic descriptions of female desire: when desire assails me, which is often, and he who can satisfy it is gone, my life is hell—it’s plain to see. Ladies stung by this amorous plague, not a single one of you who are fond of your beloved should let him get away— for the torments that bitter distance brings are always much greater than what you think whenever that bitter desire strikes. Yet the lands to the north of Venice—or as in the case of Lendenara, the south—are not the only spaces that Stampa contrasts with Venice, where, save for a brief excursion with Collaltino, she is constrained to reside. Several poems mention Padua, a town she longs for and is yet pro-

47. See Diana Robin’s comment on the “hyper-urban pastorality” of the poems: “Courtesans, Celebrity, and Print Culture in Renaissance Venice: Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, and Veronica Franco,” in Italian Women and the City: Essays, ed. Janet L. Smarr and Daria Valentina (Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2003), 45.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n hibited from visiting by her “signore”; in 228 she suggests that she and another transplanted Paduan, Sperone Speroni, might make their native town famous once again. But the other place that looms large is France, a country Stampa presumably never saw, and where Collaltino fought in Henri II’s army against the English. In poem 81 Stampa juxtaposes the claims of love and war as she berates her “aspro conte” for possessing the heart of a bear or a tiger (a common juxtaposition in cinquecento literature and painting; one need think only of Titian’s and Tintoretto’s canvases of Venus and Mars, or Ariosto’s inclusion of “l’arme, gli amori” in the first line of the Orlando furioso). There are rumors that French women are more faithful than Italian ones, exasperated comments that while news of Collaltino’s exploits often reaches Italy, news of Gaspara’s heartsickness at the count’s absence never reaches France. Here again, Venice becomes its harbors and shores, from which “Anassilla” despondently looks outward to places where she will never reside. But there are other ways in which France enters the poetry. The first poem after the break in the 1554 edition is to Henri II himself, while the second is to his wife, the Florentine Caterina de’ Medici . They are followed by a poem to another displaced Florentine, the exiled Luigi Alamanni, who thanks to Henri’s generosity found a home in Paris, making it the new refuge of the Muses. France becomes not just the site of Collalto’s betrayals and source of Stampa’s heartache but a center of culture and patronage, populated by at least two other formidable Italians beside Collaltino. And it is a place where Stampa would like to travel too: “Famous Alamanni, I too would like / to come take part in such an honor” (223), as she expresses her desire to come to France.48 Negotiating distances is a constant theme, generally conceived as a negotiation between the stationary Stampa, doomed to stay in a city not her own, and the itinerant Collaltino, who has the freedom to leave when he chooses, unencumbered by the dynamics of memory or place. But Collaltino is not the only one with the liberty to go elsewhere. Alamanni—albeit victim of enforced exile after the return of Cosimo de’ Medici to Florence—goes to Paris, and her friend denoted only as Mirtilla49 in the final capitolo is also far 48. There may be some rivalry here as well. Noting that in 69 Stampa refers to her “lai” (an Italian plural form for “laments” but also the French word for lay or poem), when saying “non s’oda in Francia il suono de’ miei lai,” Mary B. Moore argues that “Stampa chose this word . . . to make the pun, which implies that she rivals French women poetically, if not physically.” Desiring Voices: Women Sonneteers and Petrarchism (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000), 69. 49. Possibly the same Ippolita Mirtilla whose nine poems were included in the Domenichi anthology of 1559.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n away. Even when she depicts herself on the forlorn boat seeking harbor or running desperately along the shore as Anassilla, Stampa suggests that she is bound to a single locale, unable to reach those she loves most. The intensity of separation and the vagaries of distance become particularly salient aspects of the capitoli, as in this lament in which the poet imagines herself reading pages that deliver the welcome token of Mirtilla’s friendship: as soon as I saw that dear pledge of your love for me, those friendly pages, living legacy of your memory, the delight that’s born from all things sweet and welcome overcame me, so it’s barely possible to recount it all to you. (291) Here and elsewhere, words alone can bridge the gap that is both temporal—the “eight days” during which she has not heard from Collaltino— and spatial, as the letter from Mirtilla, safely arrived in the poet’s hands, exists in stark contrast to the silence that is all Stampa has from the wandering Collaltino. Mirtilla’s epistle and the responses of members of the “schiera” of writers whom she addresses in a number of poems create a reassuring community in the midst of the desolate solitude and incommunicability that mark the poet’s relationships with Collaltino and Zen. Or as Adriana Chemello has noted, “if the letter is the medium that fills the void of physical absence, the act of writing itself . . . is a present, a gift, an unconditional gesture that can make love flower, a gift that can produce the presence of a soul suspended between two poles of communication.”50 Chemello is speaking here of one of the epistolary capitoli found toward the end of the volume. But given Stampa’s preoccupation with sending forth so many poems to absent friends and lovers—and the eagerness with which she awaits their responses—Chemello’s comment illuminates many of the other Rime as well. I N F LU EN CES

The dream of being “a paro” (equal) haunts Stampa’s canzoniere from its opening poem, which ends with these lines: 50. “Se la lettera è il medium per colmare il vuoto dell’assenza fisica, l’atto di scrivere . . . è un presente, un dono, gesto gratuito capace di far fiorire l’amore, un dono che può produrre una presenza dell’anima tra i due poli della comunicazione”; “Tra ‘pena’ e ‘penna’: la storia singolare della ‘fidelissima Anassilla,’ ” in L’una et l’altra chiave: Figure e momenti del petrarchismo femminile europeo, ed. Tatiana Crivelli, Giovanni Nicoli, and Mara Santi (Rome: Salerno, 2005), 77.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n And I hope some woman will be moved to say: “Most happy she, who suffered famously for such a famous cause! Oh, why can’t the fortune that comes from loving a lord like him be mine, so such a lady and I might walk side by side?” They suggest a future reader who wants to be like Stampa, who will pine for the intensity of the “amorous laments / and sufferings” invoked in the quatrain where Stampa addresses her readership directly: “You who hear in these troubled rhymes.” Yet it could also be said that onto this envious woman (“qualch’una”) Stampa has displaced her own desires to be an equal and that Rime 1, so clearly evocative of Petrarch’s first sonnet, suggests that the great initiator of the lyric tradition in Italy is the principal influence with whom Stampa must contend. At the same time, embedded in Stampa’s opening sonnet is another Petrarchan citation and within it, an allusion to another poet with whom Stampa will vie in her collection. Petrarch’s Triumphus Cupidinis contains a line that is surely behind the wistful female reader’s remark on Stampa’s great fortune. In the flock of poets who escort the triumphal carriage of Amore, we see the unnamed Sappho: “A young Greek girl went singing alongside the noblest of poets, and her style was mellifluous, and rare” (“Una giovene greca a paro a paro / coi nobili poeti iva cantando / et avea un suo stil soave e raro”).51 Stampa seeks to be “a paro”—to walk side by side—with not just one but two great originals. The one was virtually ubiquitous in sixteenth-century Italy, the other was mediated through a handful of Greek texts that cite examples of her verse and the tradition of Roman elegy.52 To contend with Petrarch, on the one hand, meant taking on not only the poems of the Canzoniere but the extensive movement of petrarchismo that had dominated Italian verse, particularly in the Veneto, since Pietro Bembo. While one can find in Stampa’s canzoniere the ebb and flow of the Petrarchan canzoniere, the announcement of seminal moments and their recollection months or years later—as when Stampa reflects on the second year of her relationship with Collaltino in 155, or the third year in 219—it is time compressed, and necessarily so. There is no death of the beloved, nor is there even the constant pang of unrequited love, and her love for

51. Petrarch, Triumphus Cupidinis 4.25–27. 52. Stampa mentions both Sappho and the sixth-century Theban poet Corinna explicitly in 224: “What I would give for that most sacred wreath / to adorn my tresses, woman that I am, / and stand alongside [à lato] Sappho and Corinna!”

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Collaltino is subsumed into her love for at least one other man.53 Individual sonnets reflect attempts to revise and outdo Petrarch. As Fiora Bassanese and others have noted, poem 151, “Piangete Donne,” turns Petrarch’s moving elegy to the poet Cino da Pistoia into an elegy of the poet herself, as she asks those moved by her plight to write “la cagion del mio dolore”—the reason for her sorrow.54 Another instance of Stampa’s going beyond Petrarch is her triumphant “O night, to me more luminous and blessed / than the most blessed and luminous of days.” One of very few poems that remark on the consummation of her love, Rime 104, with its allusions to an Alcmena who lay in Jove’s arms for three nights and conceived Hercules, follows a far more “chaste” and Petrarchan sonnet, 103, “Io benedico, Amor, tutti gli affanni,” a response to Canzoniere 61,55 “Benedetto sia ’l giorno e ’l mese et l’anno” (Blessed be the day, the month, and the year). This “self-conscious superseding,” as Virginia Cox puts it, of a restrained Petrarchan dynamic has as its result not the sublimation of love into the “molte carte” of Canzoniere 61, but the experience of physical bliss that eluded Petrarch.56 The most penitent of Petrarchan moments—the retraction of Canzoniere 366, the canzone to the Virgin Mary—is absent in Stampa, who turns herself into the Virgin in her second sonnet when she likens the “lofty domain” in which Christ was born to the “nest and refuge” that she makes for her own lord in her heart.57 This deflationary tactic with respect to the chastened religiosity of Petrarch’s poetics is thus paired with the corresponding elevation of the poet

53. Nor, as Virginia Cox has wryly commented, need it be Stampa’s first great passion; why in 12 is the poet lamenting a love that has come “così tardo” or so late? From an unpublished paper on Gaspara Stampa, “Beyond the Courts: Gaspara Stampa,” 18; my warmest thanks to Professor Cox for making this article available to me prior to its publication. 54. See Bassanese, Gaspara Stampa, 62, who argues that Stampa becomes Cino, killed by her beloved’s indifference. Also see Patricia Phillippy, “ ‘Altera Dido’: The Model of Ovid’s Heroides in the Poems of Gaspara Stampa and Veronica Franco,” Italica 69, no. 1 (1992): 9, where she suggests that Stampa equates herself not only with the “celebrated troubadour” but with Ovid’s abandoned heroines. 55. “Beyond the Courts,” 28. 56. Ibid., 27. 57. These first two poems thereby suggest Stampa’s refusal to split the present and the past; with her we arguably see a unified self who expresses continuity—in her loves, in her grief— rather than penitence or remorse as in Petrarch. See V. Stanley Benfall, “Translating Petrarchan Desire in Vittoria Colonna and Gaspara Stampa,” Translating Desire in Medieval and Early Modern Literature, ed. Craig A. Berry and Heather Richardson Hayton (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005), 127. For more on the Petrarchan dynamic in Stampa, see Gordon Braden, “Gaspara Stampa and the Gender of Petrarchism,” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 38, no. 2 (1996): 115–39.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n herself to become a “paro” on the level of a Cino. Yet if Stampa is not alone in the cinquecento in her frank desire for a glory that can arise from poetic excellence, the heightened sensuality of her verse, particularly for a woman poet, is largely a new phenomenon. Surely it is missing in the poetry of Stampa’s contemporary Vittoria Colonna, the most widely published female poet of her era and, given her dedication to the memory of her deceased husband, the marchese di Pescara, celebrated as one of the most virtuous and chaste. In Rime amorose 7, “Di così nobil fiamma Amor mi cinse,” Colonna suggests that never again will she fear that she will be inflamed by new desire, “for the vitality of my first flame extinguished all others” (“né temo nuovo caldo, ché ’l vigore / del primo foco mio tutt’altri estinse”); in the final tercet she notes her refusal to take another love after her husband’s death: “Per me . . . / l’arco spezzò ne l’aventar d’un strale; / sciolse i suo’ nodi in l’annodar d’un laccio.”58 Stampa not only speaks of her inner “foco” or flame throughout her poems but talks about a new flame in the poetry to Zen, turning Colonna’s “laccio” (snare or noose) into “novi lacci” (215). Rime 208 has Stampa speaking of the multiple “pungenti strali” of the new lover rather than the single dart known by Colonna, while 206, the oft-cited sonnet on the salamander who “lives in flame,” suggests that hardly was her first “ardor” extinguished (“[À] pena era anche estinto il primo ardore”) when a second one was born. This is in stark opposition to Colonna’s “’l vigore / del primo foco mio tutt’altri estinse.” If Colonna is the antisalamander—or to consider another magical beast Stampa invokes in the Zen poems, the antiphoenix—Stampa is the animal who thrives on flame and rises again from the ashes, rejecting Colonna’s attachment to a single lover.59 At the same time, Colonna’s religious sentiments are not wholly absent in Stampa’s verse. One of Stampa’s most explicitly religious poems imitates the rhyme scheme of the first sonnet of Colonna’s “rime spirituali.”60 The martyrdom 58. Vittoria Colonna, Rime, ed. Alan Bullock (Rome: Laterza, 1982), 6; sonnet A1:7. 59. In this, as Virginia Cox has suggested, she is more similar to Tullia d’Aragona in her “passage to a second love after a brief hiatus of ‘freedom’ ”; “Beyond the Courts,” 31. Francesca Baffo also makes mention of more than one beloved. Tullia was known to have lived openly as a courtesan; Baffo’s situation, like Stampa’s, is far less clear. It’s not clear that Stampa would have known their work, but at least one of her sonnets—on the salamander—seems to echo d’Aragona’s allusion to herself as “qual salamandra nel più ardente fuoco” in her sestina “Ben mi credea fuggendo il mio bel sole”; see Le Rime di Tullia d’Aragona: cortigiana del secolo XVI, ed. Enrico Celani (Bologna: Romagnoli dall’Acqua, 1891), 63. 60. Compare Colonna’s Rime spirituali 1.1–4, ”Poi che ’l mio casto amor gran tempo tenne / l’alma di fama accesa, ed ella un angue / in sen nudrio, per cui dolente or langue / volta al Signor, onde il rimedio venne” (Since my chaste love for many years / kept my soul aflame with the desire for fame, and it nourished / a serpent in my breast so that now my heart languishes /

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n of love is also religious martyrdom. The “double heart” Collaltino is said to possess evokes the exchange of hearts between Catherine of Siena and Christ as recounted in hagiographies of the saint. Stampa thus plays with seeing how far the language of passion can be pushed into an explicitly religious context, as when the high hill where Collaltino dwells is invoked as the “alti colli” of paradise (277). While Stampa was clearly influenced by her female contemporaries, she was equally if not more intrigued by the male poets of cinquecento Italy. Giorgio Forni recently made the fascinating discovery that Stampa’s 131, “Poi che da voi Signor m’è pur vietato,” is identical to a poem written by the Florentine Francesco Berni, published in Secondo libro dell’opere burlesche in 1555, almost twenty years after Berni’s death.61 Berni wrote at times scurrilous rhymes on subjects from the sack of Rome to courtesans; not without reason have his poems been titled “rime burlesche.”62 It is tantalizing to think how and why Cassandra confused Berni’s poem—not yet published when Stampa’s Rime went to press—with that of her sister: assuming, indeed, that the poem is Berni’s and not the other way around. But elsewhere in Stampa’s verse one detects Berni’s influence as well, possibly derived from either an earlier volume of Berni’s poetry or the 1552 Primo libro dell’opere Burlesche, which featured a number of his works as well as poems of della Casa, Varchi, Francesco Maria Molza, and Giovanni Mauro. Stampa seems to have been comfortable invoking some of Berni’s less scathing rhymes as well as the vocabulary and poetic innovations of the “ambito burlesco.” “S’io non havessi al cor già fatto un callo” (193) may owe something to Berni’s “sì dolce in quella parte ha fatto il callo,” and the long list of verbs that forms 214 may well have been influenced by a similar kind of list in Berni’s so-called “Sonetto delle puttane” or sonnet of the whores, as Forni has suggested.63 And in pain turned towards God who alone can help me) with the second quatrain in Stampa’s 276, “Che nel mio cor, che del fallir suo langue / Vogli imprimer’ homai per gratia chieggio; / Sì ch’al fin del viaggio, che pur deggio / Non trionfi di me l’inimico angue.” Translation of Colonna that of Abigail Brundin, Sonnets for Michelangelo (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 57. 61. Giorgio Forni, “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime.’ Nota su Giovanni della Casa e Gaspara Stampa,” in Giovanni della Casa: un seminario per il centenario, ed. Amedeo Quondam (Rome: Bulzoni, 2006), 291. 62. Born in Florence in 1498, Berni was an active collaborator and editor, producing an edition of the Decameron in 1527 and rewriting Ariosto’s Orlando furioso in Florentine dialect in the 1530s. Most of his own poetry was first published after his death; his capitoli were published in 1537 and his sonnets in 1537 and 1540. See Francesco Berni, Rime burlesche, ed. Giorgio Bàrberi Squarotti (Milan: Rizzoli, 1991); Stampa’s 131 is number 14 in the collection, on p. 92. The editor indicates that Berni wrote it to Monsignor Agnolo Divizi, “gridando la sua innocenza” (protesting his innocence), from the badia of San Gioanni in Venere in January 1523. 63. Tonally, Stampa’s sonnet is very different from Berni’s, even as there are striking parallels between the two poems in terms of their syntactical construction: “Un dirmi,” “Un voler,”

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n as we will see, Stampa’s sonnet to della Casa may have been influenced by two other poems of Berni. Like the madrigals discussed earlier, Berni’s rhymes move between what Forni calls “parodia epica ed elogio paradossale,” producing a sense of dissonance and overturning not only Petrarch but one of his most ardent sixteenth-century defenders, Bembo. In Stampa’s hands, too, the beloved is no longer the exclusive and valued object to be protected from the world but rather a precursor to Shakespeare’s “dark lady” whose faults are to be exposed.64 Yet Bembo and his followers, many of them fellow Venetians, are hardly absent from Stampa’s poems. There are a number of similarities between Stampa’s poetry and that of her contemporary Domenico Venier that range from virtually identical lines (“Chi rompe il sonno” from Stampa’s 88 appears as “Ahi chi mi rompe il sonno” in a Venier poem anthologized in Girolamo Ruscelli’s Sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori [1553]) to common themes (moving on to a second lover) and verses written for a common friend (the deceased Gabriel Trifone). That Venier and Stampa would have known each other—he was a great patron of artists and musicians—seems unquestionable; that they may have exchanged verses and influenced each other seems highly likely from an extended consideration of their writings.65 As for Bembo, the opening sonnet from his 1530 Rime, “Muses . . . wont to deceive death, give life to this style, born of my suffering, when I am dead and buried”66 surely finds its way into Stampa’s first poem when she hopes that her readers will bestow on her not Petrarchan “pietà” but “gloria” and that a future woman will envy her after her death. Later poems in the Rime similarly address “donne” as readers and seek to elevate Stampa above them because of either the magnitude of her suffering or the glory of her beloved. What emerges as we glimpse these rhetorical flares of self-confidence is a story that makes not Collaltino the primary subject of the poetry, but “Un dargli desinar,” etc., in Berni; “Un veder,” “Un cercar,” “Un haver’ ” in Stampa. See Forni, “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime,’ ” 293–94. 64. See Zancan’s comment, Il doppio itinerario, 168–69: “In this process . . . the beloved, because he is ‘empio in amore,’ loses his virtue and recedes from center-stage, enabling the truly valorous subject to emerge as the virtuous lover, insofar as she is, unlike him, faithful to Love.” 65. See Rosenthal, Honest Courtesan, chaps. 4–5, for a study of Venier and his importance to Venetian Petrarchism and Venice’s cultural life. A number of the dedicatees of Stampa’s poems were part of Venier’s circle, including Speroni, Gabriele Trifone, and Jacopo Zane. Ruscelli includes several dozen of Venier’s poems in his Sesto libro (to Stampa’s three). Feldman argues that Stampa’s presence was “likely in Venier’s academy” (City Culture, 104) and suggests elsewhere that Stampa was influenced by Venier’s poetry (95n). 66. From “Piansi e cantai lo strazio e l’aspra guerra,” the poem that opened Bembo’s 1530 Rime: the second strophe is “Dive, per cui s’apre Helicona e serra, / use far a la morte illustri inganni, / date a lo stil, che nacque de’ miei danni, / viver, quand’io sarò spento e sotterra”; in Prose e rime, ed. Carlo Dionisotti (Turin: UTET, 1966), 507.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Stampa herself. As 114 baldly states, since Homer, Virgil, and Petrarch all together could hardly muster enough praise for her lover, Thus do I turn to write of this alone, the stories of my joyous griefs that make me unique among all others. Or as 127 suggests—a poem that otherwise feigns to reject Collaltino, to be promptly corrected by 128—“Give way to sighs, take up the pen for poems, / so that such evil pain can find release.” This voice seeking to “sfogarsi” or vent itself is also that of the desiring woman of antiquity, as Patricia Phillippy has argued in demonstrating that the letters of Ovid’s Heroides— particularly those “written” by Sappho and Dido—shaped Stampa’s conception of the voice of the abandoned woman.67 Other women’s fictional voices include that of Boccaccio’s ninfa fiesolana and his desiring Fiammetta.68 Yet one should not dismiss Stampa’s fascination with authors of elegy more broadly, ranging from Ovid himself to Horace, Propertius, and Tibullus. Phillippy suggests that both Ovid and Stampa “describe a retreat from the epic as a realm of erotic leisure over which women preside.”69 This “retreat” defines the elegiac vein as well, with men—and women—characterizing it as dialectically opposed to epic, while attempting to share in the glory epic imparts. Sappho, for example, with whom Stampa seeks “parity,” is one of the abandoned women of Ovid’s fictionalized letters as well as central in the opposition between the pursuits of epic and those of love. This is a point to which we will turn by way of a figure equally steeped in the literature of antiquity, and one who had not a few things in common with Stampa: Giovanni della Casa. D I S PLA CI N G T H E COU N T: T H E 1 5 5 4 V O L U ME AND CAS S A N D R A’S LET T ER T O G I OVAN N I D E L L A C AS A

The volume of Stampa’s poetry published in 1554 featured a handful of sonnets in honor of the poet who died so young: three poems by Benedetto 67. Love’s Remedies: Recantation and Renaissance Lyric Poetry (London: Associated University Presses, 1995), chap. 3. Phillippy has a nice discussion of the way Stampa uses the Petrarchan narrative of penitence to create instead a palinodic structure gleaned from Ovid’s Heroides. On the role of the abandoned woman in literary tradition, see Lawrence Lipking, Abandoned Women and Poetic Tradition (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988). 68. As Maria Pia Mussini Sacchi has argued in “L’eredità di Fiammetta. Per una lettura delle Rime di Gaspara Stampa,” Studi italiani 19 (1998): 35–51. 69. Love’s Remedies, 120.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Varchi, two by Pietro Bembo’s son Torquato, and a single poem each by Giulio Stufa and Giorgio Benzone. At the end of the Rime is a sonnet written by Leonardo Emo before Stampa’s death and to which Stampa responded with poem 253. But perhaps the most revealing dedicatory feature of the volume is the letter composed by Cassandra to Monsignor Giovanni della Casa. Papal legate to Venice in the 1540s, della Casa was author of the century’s most famous conduct manual after Castiglione’s Cortegiano, the Galateo. The letter to della Casa has usually been considered as little more than an attempt on Cassandra Stampa’s part to give her sister social and poetic acceptability, and critics have been skeptical of any genuine connection to della Casa on the part of either sister. Yet once we resituate this dedication within the Rime and place it next to—and before—Gaspara’s better-known dedication of her “libretto” to Collaltino, we will have a much better idea of the nature not only of Cassandra’s aspirations for her sister but of Gaspara’s aspirations for herself. For it may be that the esteemed della Casa was not simply a happy afterthought on the part of Cassandra Stampa and her coeditor, Giorgio Benzoni, who wished to have an official “stamp of approval” for the book that Diana Robin argues was rushed into print to capitalize on Gaspara’s possibly scandalous death.70 Nor was the bid for della Casa’s attention merely an outrageous attempt to link Gaspara’s “bourgeois” social station to the distinguished Florentine family of the monsignor.71 Rather, one can argue that the letter emerges from dynamics already present in the Rime—as in a sonnet (266) that Salza argued convincingly had been written to della Casa himself: As I was searching for new rhymes and ways with which to praise your well-known virtues, Apollo descended from his sacred mount to tweak my ear in the early dawn. “Another’s wit or file, a different style,” he said, “or a greater fount of eloquence, is what you would need to do justice to a theme so exalted and sublime. You seek to cross an ocean that has no end and can’t be sounded, as you try to praise 70. Diana Robin, “Courtesans, Celebrity, and Print Culture in Renaissance Venice,” 43. It is surely of some interest that a year later Benzone would dedicate the collected sonnets of Benedetto Varchi to della Casa in a volume published by Plinio Pietrasanta. 71. Varchi would seem to insinuate a Florentine/Venetian rivalry when at the end of his first sonnet in honor of Stampa, he suggests that the famous Arno should yield “al Tirreno il corso”; f. 4r.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n a man second to none—the Reverend. The stars were miserly to all others, when they sent into the world this spirit of renown, to whom they gave all that it’s possible to give.” Striking about the sonnet’s opening is that it would seem initially to be directed to “Conte” Collaltino, given the placement of “conte” in the second line (“Cercando novi versi, e nove rime / Per poter far le lodi vostre conte”). But “conte” does not refer to a person. It rather serves here as an adjective, meaning “famous,” or “well-known,” as we find elsewhere in Stampa’s corpus.72 Still, we see the echo visually—and hear it aurally—with Stampa’s “count,” and arguably it is only with “Il Riverendo à null’altro secondo” of line 11 that the real object of Apollo’s admonition is driven home. Additionally, the sea without bottom or end impossible to “solcar” returns us not to poems addressed to Collaltino but to a sonnet for Bartolommeo Zen, the final sonnet before the dedicatory verses to Henri II (“À mezo il mare, ch’io varcai tre anni / Fra dubbi venti” [219]). The poem to della Casa, that is, displaces the count not only through wordplay but by referring to poems that are not about him at all. The sonnet also belongs to a literature that has been largely ignored in considerations of Stampa, for its reference is a somewhat esoteric one— though not so esoteric that it wasn’t well known (and would be eventually echoed by Milton in Lycidas). The lines about Apollo “tweaking her ear” take us to Virgil’s sixth eclogue, in which the poet meditates on his relationship to a more prestigious kind of versifying than the pastoral: My Muse first deigned to sport in Sicilian strains, and blushed not to dwell in the woods. When I was fain to sing of kings and battles, the Cynthian Apollo plucked my ear and warned me: A shepherd, Tityrus, should feed sheep that are fat, but sing a lay fine-spun. (Eclogue 6.1–5)73 72. As in 50, “le fattezze conte,” or 16, “parole . . . / che fosser da me scritte e cantate, / E fatte conte à mille alti intelletti.” 73. Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I–VI, trans. H. Rushton Fairclough (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1974), 43. In fact, Berni may have been a mediating figure here too. As Forni notes, Berni wrote a facetious capitolo to Cardinal Ippolito de’Medici that includes the terzine: “I tried once to write in elegant verse, in prose and rhyme and not a few lines, and I too wanted to be a giant, but Mr. Cinzio tweaked my ear, and said: . . . it’s not your style to sing of Achilles” (“Provai un tratto a scrivere elegante, / in prosa e in versi e fecine parecchi, / et ebbi voglia anch’io di esser gigante, // ma messer Cinzio mi tirò gli orecchi / e disse: . . . / arte non è da te cantar d’Achille”; cited in Forni, “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime,’ ” 292). “Messer Cinzio” is a playful way of referring to Apollo, who descends to warn Berni—as he warns Stampa—not to take on some-

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n Thus is Virgil forbidden to sing of Varus, the Roman general, and a story of grim war; rather “will I woo the rustic Muse on slender reed. Unbidden strains I sing not” (6.8–9). Virgil’s reference looks back to Callimachus’s jovial rejection of epic poems (and perhaps to Sappho’s as well) and ahead to Propertius, who in the third book of his elegies similarly includes a rare, self-conscious set-piece as he imagines himself writing of things heroic—“I dreamed that . . . I possessed the power to proclaim to my lyre’s accompaniment Alba’s kings and their deeds,” when suddenly “Phoebus observed me from the Castalian wood and said, as he leaned upon his golden lyre beside the cave: ‘Madman, what business have you at such a stream? Who bade you touch the task of heroic song? Not from here, Propertius, may you hope for any fame.’ ”74 Instead, the poet is told, “small wheels must run upon soft grass, so that your book [libellus] be oft paraded on the bench for a lonely girl [sola puella] to read as she awaits her man. Why has your page veered from the prescribed orbit?” (3.3.18–20). Propertius’s work, that is, becomes a “libellus” for a “puella sola” awaiting her lover. Told to be content to ride on “snow-white swans” rather than warhorses, Propertius is assigned the task of singing of “garlanded lovers at one another’s threshold.” For love, as he writes at the beginning of another elegy in book 3, is “Pacis . . . deus,” a god of peace (3.5.1). Stampa’s attempts to dissuade her lover from war and glory should be seen against this background. She has solidly classical and generic grounds for her disapproval of Collaltino’s aggressive activities—Catullus’s “Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus” (Lesbia, let us live and love) lurks behind several of the poems—as well as for her bracketing off a realm of experience for herself distinct from Collaltino’s world (while the libretto to the count turns him allusively into the puella sola waiting for his beloved to return). At the same time, the highly self-conscious moment in both classical texts and in Stampa’s poem to della Casa is hardly an acceptance of the truly “small” or “insignificant.” The product of Propertius’s work, after all, is not a libellus but, as he calls it in book 2, a liber.75 And in eclogue 6, Virgil moves from being “tweaked” by Apollo to writing a poem about the origins of the world. Thus

thing meant only for “giants.” Yet Ippolito was a translator of Virgil, and Berni’s opening clearly refers to the very poem that Stampa herself must have known. Additionally, Stampa’s line about the reverend second to none may echo Berni’s “Capitolo a fra Bastian dal Piombo,” which opens with “Padre, a me più che gli altri reverendo / che son reverendissimi chiamati” (Father, to me more revered than all the others who are called most reverend); Rime burlesche, 243. 74. Propertius, trans. G. P. Goold (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990), 260–61; Elegy 3.3. 1–4, 13–17. 75. See the opening of elegy 2.1.1–2: “You ask me, from what source so oft I draw my songs of love and whence comes my book that sounds so soft upon the tongue”; 63.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n he sings of how Linus, a shepherd of immortal song, cried to him: “These reeds—see, take them—the Muses give them—even those they once gave the old Ascraean [Hesiod], wherewith, as he sang, he would draw the unyielding ash trees down the mountain sides.”76. The poem to della Casa positions itself on those “heights” as well, as Stampa uses the Virgilian text to redefine ways of invoking greatness in “lowly places.” With its echoes of Virgil, Propertius, and possibly Berni, Rime 266 meditates in elegant fashion on elegy’s playfully self-conscious positioning with respect to its putatively minor role in the literary canon, and thus on how it stakes out a place that contrasts with that occupied by more “serious” writers, either by disparaging those concerns or by seeking to monumentalize private desires.77 Thus can one return to the dynamics implicit in Cassandra Stampa’s dedication of the Rime to della Casa. For one thing, the dedication might have recalled some readers to Sansovino’s 1545 dedication to Gaspara of a lecture by Benedetto Varchi on della Casa’s poem. (Whether della Casa was aware of Sansovino’s dedication is another matter, and in any case he was not present when Varchi delivered his oration at the Accademia degl’Infiammati in Padua in 1540.) For another, it is possible that Baldassare or Stampa herself met della Casa in the mid-1540s when della Casa was in Venice and presumably a frequent attendant at the same ridotti at which the Stampa family may have been present.78 But when Cassandra wrote her dedicatory letter in the fall of 1554, della Casa was definitely nearby, and in a place well known to Gaspara. In 1551, having lost his position as papal nuncio with the arrival of a new pope and reputedly tired of Rome, della Casa retired to the solitude of the Veneto and the lands along the Piave to write his Galateo and revise his verse. He lived, in fact, on Collalto lands, taking refuge in the abbey at Nervesa, where Vinciguerra, Collaltino’s brother, was abbot. It is with this no doubt in mind that Cassandra addresses him in the line 76. “Ascraeo quos ante seni, quibus ille solebat / cantando rigidas deducere montibus ornos”; Eclogue 6.70–71; Eclogues, Georgics, Aeneid I–VI, 47. Stampa too alludes to Hesiod, author of The Theogony, in an early poem (3): the act of climbing up a hill—the “alto Colle” who is Collaltino himself—allows her, “bassa e vile,” to become a poet like the “rozo pastor” Hesiod. 77. So does the elegiac genre to which Stampa’s poems loosely belong choose its own path in traveling to lofty spheres, situating itself in a potentially contentious space within the hierarchy of literary genres: recognizing its limits on the one hand and the rhetorical possibilities of those limits on the other. These dynamics of elegy are also present in Ovid’s Heroides, mentioned earlier, on which see Phillippy; and Rosenthal, Honest Courtesan, chap. 5. Rosenthal also discusses the role of an elegist such as Propertius in the poetry of Veronica Franco. 78. Salza holds this out as a possibility: “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” 93. On the other hand, Oreste Battistella, in Di Giovanni della Casa e di altri letterati all’abbazia dei Conti di Collalto in Nervesa alla metà del secolo XVI (Treviso: Turrazza, 1904), maintains that Stampa visited the abbey at Nervesa when della Casa was there; cited in Salza, 93.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n where she says that she has searched throughout Italy to find the person most suited to the title of “true lord”: When I sought throughout all Italy to find the man who most merited the name of a true lord, it was only right that the bright ray of Your Most Reverend Lordship blazed forth to my eyes from that remote solitude of yours, where you often engage in lofty and serious studies and feed your divine intellect with the most precious of foods. As iron is drawn to a magnet, so I’ve been drawn by a powerful force to consecrate these verses to you. Cassandra goes on to tell della Casa why above all others he deserves the title of “nobile.” Not only was he born in the most noble city of Italy, but he possesses his nobility for reasons of fortune and of virtue, “since your learning is the noblest and most praiseworthy that can be found.” And given this nobility, she is sure that her sister would be pleased: for while alive, she “always admired Your Most Reverend Lordship, one of Italy’s most handsome lights, as someone to whom she might direct her words, revering as she did your name and your opinions.” Is this merely a rhetorical ploy, or did Stampa have della Casa “per mira”? Did perhaps the lecture by Varchi on della Casa’s sonnet on jealousy inspire Stampa to write her own sonnets on jealousy, of which 77, “O noble resting place for all my labors,” might be considered an example? One might mention Stampa’s occasional stylistic innovativeness; the celebrated enjambments of della Casa can be found in several of her verses. Or perhaps the “doubling” of lovers in Stampa’s sonnets to Bartolomeo Zen mirrors della Casa’s own refusal to focus on a single lover, which was the case both in his slender output of verse and in his life. But there may be another reason. His Galateo ovvero de’ costumi takes the possibility of social mobility as its premise, tracing the path by which one of its two interlocutors, “un giovanetto,” might make his mark. When Stampa was writing her dedication, the Galateo had yet to be finished, and yet this complex man of many faces, as Antoneo Quondam has recently described him, might already have been seen as a figure to emulate for social and rhetorical reasons.79 The society of the Galateo about which della Casa was writing at the time of Stampa’s death is far less exclusive than that of the Cortegiano—the world in which Bembo 79. See his introduction to Giovanni della Casa: Un seminario per il centenario, 9–77. For a useful catalogue of textual similarities between della Casa and Stampa, see Forni, “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime,’ ” 291n.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n the Neoplatonist swoons over a love more ethereal than physical, and with which Colonna had been directly associated. The Galateo marks rather an opening up of feudalism and aristocratic niceties—the exclusive society to which Collaltino belonged—to the merchants and semplici gentiluomini of Lucca, Florence, and Venice.80 For those aware of della Casa’s whereabouts, and by 1554 they certainly were not few, Cassandra’s dedicatory letter creates a new meaning for the Veneto and for the feudal lands of the Collalti. The presiding spirit is not Collaltino but della Casa, whose verses are surely of greater stature than those of Collaltino and his brother Vinciguerra. Nonetheless, they are his presumably generous hosts, which may argue for a new view of the Collalti as patrons of Italy’s literary giant and erstwhile politician, and thus obliquely provide us with a more positive assessment than the one with which Gaspara herself leaves us. At the same time, when we turn in the 1554 volume to Gaspara’s own dedication to Collaltino uttered in the words of Anassilla, we find it framed within a context not only of Gaspara’s making but of Cassandra’s. Just as the “conte” is present only elliptically in 266, in which the closed world of Anassilla is upended by that of the self-conscious Virgilian poet, so does Cassandra at the outset define true nobility and the real virtue of the Veneto’s countryside: it generates masterful poets, della Casa and Stampa alike. As a result, the dedicatory letter to della Casa renders the count less unique, locating the “Riverendo” in the space Collaltino will come to occupy alone in the course of the Rime.81 At the same time, the numerous verses to the “schiera” of noble personages and fellow and sister poets achieve what Cassandra simply enhances, as they insert the passionate relationship with Collaltino into an environment that downplays his uniqueness and refracts Collaltino and his relationship with Stampa through the eyes and words of others. This section of the Rime following the dedicatory verses to Henri II and Caterina de’ Medici— models of an appropriate marriage between Italy and France, in contrast to the troublesome liaison with a Francophile lover in which Stampa is involved—provides yet one more reason for us to read the sequence not as the pure autobiography or “diary” on which so many critics have insisted. As Ann Jones has astutely perceived, Stampa’s real achievement is to fashion an audience that goes beyond the count.82 Given the performative status of 80. Antonino Sole, Studi su Bembo e Della Casa, 93. 81. Even if it were not written after 1551, when della Casa moved to Nervesa, the poem would still distinguish itself as displacing one “Conte” for another more illustrious figure, and certainly the better writer. 82. Ann Rosalind Jones, The Currency of Eros: Women’s Love Lyric in Europe, 1540–1620 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990), 137.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n what we can imagine to have been a number of the poems, not to mention Stampa’s own reputation as virtuosa, the putative intimacy of the songs is constantly breached. Privacy is perforce manufactured—ever a facade that we are meant to see through. The facade may gloss over something else in the composition of this “schiera.” If the poligrafi who were so central to Stampa’s circle and the eventual publication of her book were not at the heart of Reformation sympathies in Venice, at least they were close to it.83 Little is known about the activities of Plinio Pietrasanta, who published Stampa’s verse in 1554 and Benedetto Varchi’s in 1555, although he worked closely with the energetic editor from Viterbo, Girolamo Ruscelli, between 1553 and 1555 when Stampa’s book emerged.84 Ruscelli edited the Tempio alla divina signora donna Giovanna d’Aragona in which one of Stampa’s verses appeared in 1555; d’Aragona, sister-in-law to the more famous Vittoria Colonna, was openly antagonistic to papal policy throughout the 1550s. Ruscelli also was known for his sympathies for the convicted heretic Spadafora, and he published works by figures associated with the reformer Juan de Valdés. Perhaps of more immediate interest is the fact that of those to whom Stampa dedicated poems, several were hostile to the Church and at least marginally sympathetic to Reform ideas. Among them was Ortensio Lando, whose Dialogo della sacra scrittura of 1552 supports the idea of justification through faith alone and attacks both clericalism and the importance of the sacraments.85 Lando, moreover, was closely connected to Collaltino, who funded several of his publications. Less clear is whether the Priuli to whom Stampa dedicated two verses was Alvise Priuli, a well-known Venetian banker and poet, avowed Valdensian and close friend of Reginald Pole; he would have been in his eighties when Stampa wrote her poems and thus perhaps not an obvious dedicatee.86 None of this background of Stampa’s poetic interlocutors—and in one case, her literary executor—can make a case for Stampa’s religious convic83. See Diana Robin, Publishing Women: Salons, the Presses, and the Counter-Reformation in SixteenthCentury Italy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007), especially chap. 4, “Between Rome and Venice: The Temples of Giovanna d’Aragona.” 84. See Brian Richardson, Print Culture in Renaissance Italy: The Editor and the Vernacular Text, 1470– 1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 109; he notes (227) that both Ruscelli and Pietrasanta were persecuted by the Venetian Holy Office in 1555 for publishing an obscene work. 85. See Paul F. Grendler, “Religious Restlessness in Sixteenth-Century Italy,” CCHA Study Sessions 33 (1966): 25–38. 86. Another candidate is Daniello Priuli, who has a sonnet in the Rime di diversi in morte della S. Irene delle Signore di Spilimbergo, as noted by Salza, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” 23.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n tions or, for that matter, for her interest in the issues besieging Venice in the 1540s when della Casa tried, and failed, to bring the city more securely within the fold of the papacy. Eugenio Donadoni has observed that her few explicitly religious sonnets echo the “fatalism” of Luther and Calvin in their rejection of “opere” as a means to God: a poem such as 277 would seem to support salvation through faith rather than works.87 Intriguing as it would be to situate Stampa more securely within the antipapal and anti-CounterReformation environment for which Venice was known, the evidence is too scanty.88 Clearly more work needs to be done on the connections between Venetian cultural centers in the 1540s and 1550s and the energetic poligrafi who published works often considered sympathetic to Reformation ideas. And in the interim, it is safe to say that Stampa’s concerted “mirroring” of della Casa and the generic complexities in which he was engaged paradoxically allowed her, as Francesco Erspamer has argued, to achieve that gravitas to which poets of the second half of the sixteenth century would increasingly aspire.89 “ D A S I CH W Ü R D E W I E S I E ? ” Have you thought enough of Gaspara Stampa, and how some girl, eluded by her lover, may feel, at this more intense example of loving: if only I could become like her? Shall not these most ancient pains at last become more fruitful for us? Is it not time that we, in loving, should free ourselves from the loved one . . . ? Rainer Maria Rilke, Duino Elegies, no. 1 O miracle of love, as yet unheard of! Grief no one will believe if they’ve not felt it! Alas, that I alone defeat the infinite! Stampa, Rime 91

One thing that may have endeared Stampa to the romantics and neoromantics such as Rilke who discovered her in the early twentieth century was 87. Eugenio Donadoni, Gaspara Stampa (Messina: Principato, 1919). 88. On della Casa’s difficulties in Venice, see Antonio Santosuosso, “Religious Orthodoxy, Dissent and Suppression in Venice in the 1540s,” Church History 42 (1973): 476–85. 89. See Erspamer’s thoughtful comments on Stampa in “La poesia lirica dal Cinquecento all’Arcadia,” in Manuale di letteratura Italiana. Storia per generi e problemi, vol. 2, Dal Cinquecento alla metà del Settecento, ed. Franco Brioschi and Costanzo Di Girolamo (Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 1994), 204–5.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n her passion for the “infinito.” Infinity: the term refers both to her own love and to what could be called her longing for a world in which the “bassezza” she claims to personify might be swallowed up and rendered insignificant.90 Her ideas of parity and measure are exploded from time to time so that she and her readers can dwell in a measureless realm beyond meter and rhythm, where the limitations and categories of this world are inconsequential. One might think that rather than the sonnet, the madrigal with its alternating long and short lines and the capitolo with its variable length might have been Stampa’s preferred modes of expression.91 And yet the sonnets are the most artistically satisfying parts of Stampa’s work, insofar as they perform that contradiction that perhaps only Donne would later so fully capture, intimating the need and ability to go beyond what early modernity had dictated as constraints—even for virtuose such as Stampa—on a social and poetic level. This may be why she found a poet such as Berni so attractive, as he introduced his burlesque modalities into what began as a modest Petrarchan undertaking. And this may also be why the lowly elegy of antiquity had such attractions for her, disguising within its humility an at times ironizing desire to transcend the confined elegiac space. This is finally where Sappho deserves more extensive mention—both as one of the earliest woman poets and as a superb stylist whose achievements were cited in numerous treatises throughout antiquity. To use a term Stampa invokes frequently in her verse and with which Sappho was associated in late antiquity and again in the mid-sixteenth century, what can’t be measured is the sublime: a figure for transport and intensity, for shattering loss and recollection. In the treatise On the Sublime, edited in 1554 by Francesco Robortello, well known in Padua and Venice as a teacher and scholar of Greek, the anonymous first-century author referred to as “Longinus” speaks of Sappho as a poet who “feels contradictory sensations, freezes, burns, raves, reasons, so that she displays not a single emotion, but a whole congeries of emotions. Lovers show all such symptoms, but what gives su90. See Lipking, Abandoned Women, on 91, the poem he feels most effectively captures the role of the “infinito”: “Faith and pain have raised [Stampa] to an understanding not to be comprehended by anyone who has not endured them. Thus Stampa exalts herself as a lover and poet. Not even the finest knight is worthy of such adoration. Her only equal is Amor himself. . . . Viewed from so high a sphere, even Petrarch seems wanting” (179). 91. See James Haar on the early madrigal: “Perhaps the odd reputation of the madrigal as inordinatum had somehow persisted and thus made the term attractive to sixteenth-century writers. There was a definite liking among poets of the early sixteenth century for a genre without fixed rules or repetition schemes. . . . Writing a canzone or even a sonnet took some work; a madrigal could be dashed off fairly easily.” Essays on Italian Poetry and Music in the Renaissance, 1350–1600 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986), 51.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n preme merit to her art is . . . the skill with which she takes up the most striking and combines them into a single whole.”92 These remarks are made apropos what is now called fragment 31 in Sappho’s oeuvre, “I think him God’s peer that sits near you face to face.” Imitated by Catullus in poem 51 (“He seems to me to be equal to a god”), it was unavailable to early modern Europe until Robortello’s publication of the treatise.93 The fact that Stampa wrote a sonnet strongly reminiscent of the fragment— “When thanks to good fortune—all too rare in this world—I come before those bright and shining eyes” (28)—may indicate that she was familiar with only Catullus, not Longinus. Yet it is tempting to think that as one of Venice’s most cultured poets and performers, she may have come into contact with Robortello, as well as with his work on sublimity, and that the Sappho who “shows her excellence with the skill with which she selects and combines the most striking and intense of those symptoms [of the passion of love]” became a model for her in ways that go beyond the portrait of the despairing and rejected woman of Ovid’s Heroides or the verses mediated by Catullus and others. Too, there is one phrase in On the Sublime that suggests where Stampa may have been heading with her desires to go alongside— “a paro”—not only Sappho but Petrarch, della Casa, and, in a different manner, Collaltino himself. “For the true sublime naturally elevates us: uplifted with a sense of proud exaltation, we are filled with joy and pride, as if we had ourselves produced the very thing we

92. Longinus, On the Sublime, trans. W. H. Fyfe, rev. Donald Russell (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995), 199 (chap. 10). Published in 1554, the year of Stampa’s Rime, Dionysi Longini rhetoris praestantissimi liber (in Greek, with Latin commentary) was the first modern publication of what has become an extraordinarily influential treatise on the sublime. The text and its editor Francesco Robortello might seem far removed from Stampa, until we reflect that Robortello (1516–67) spent much of his life in Venice and Padua. After teaching in numerous schools throughout Italy in the 1530s and 1540s as a scholar of Greek and Latin—Bologna, Pisa, among other places—he settled in Padua in the late 1540s and was in Venice by 1551. Varchi, who dedicated three verses to Stampa in her Rime, mentions Robortello in his Ercolano. Robortello was also a colleague of Francesco Patrizi, who taught in Padua throughout the 1550s; Patrizi himself was a close friend of Francesco Sansovino, who dedicated three works to Stampa in the mid-1540s after her brother Baldassarre’s death. On Robortello, see Bernard Weinberg, A History of Literary Criticism in the Italian Renaissance (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961), 1:66ff. For the suggestion that Stampa’s appreciation of Sappho’s style may have been mediated through the widely-read treatise of Demetrius, On Style, which also contains numerous references to Sappho, see Forni, “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime,’ ” 296–99. 93. For an insightful reading of fragment 31 as key to the interpretation of both Sappho and her ensuing legacy, see Yopie Prins, Victorian Sappho (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999), chap. 1. On Sappho’s reception in early modernity and beyond, Joan DeJean’s Fictions of Sappho, 1546–1937 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989) is invaluable.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n heard” (7.2). How to take over and become the author of what another has already written—in effect, to walk beside one’s predecessors and eventually go beyond them? Varchi’s and Stufa’s references to Stampa as the modern Sappho in their dedicatory verses—they both call her the Sappho “de’ nostri dì” —may allude to this textual engagement with the poet and the anonymous commentator who used her verses to exemplify the sublime that was possible in love poetry. Alternately, of course, both poets may be referring only to the platitude of a Sappho known more for her vividly imagined life than for anything specific to her poetry, a fate that Stampa has shared. And, of course, it is highly possible that the allusions to Sappho merely suggest that a woman poet was still a rarity in sixteenth-century Europe—as she was in antiquity.94 Yet whatever their motivations, Varchi and Stufa may well have influenced the image that has come to be associated with her, and one that may well recall Sappho. The history and attribution of “portraits” of Stampa pose vexing problems.95 But the Australian scholar Clare O’Donoghue has, I believe, come up with a definitive explanation for the origins of the 1738 engraving of Stampa in Luisa Bergalli’s edition—as well as for the engraving, possibly of early modern derivation, pasted into the exemplar of the 1554 Rime now in the poet’s hometown, Padua, at the Biblioteca Civica.96 These two engrav-

94. Still, Stampa was not the only woman poet referred to as Sappho in the mid-sixteenth century. Victoria Kirkham cites a line from the Historia monastica of Pietro Calzolari of 1561, in which the author rhetorically asks, “Has this age of ours any cause to envy the ancient and learned Sappho, since we have had our Vittoria Colonnas, Veronica Gambaras, and many others, famous indeed for their poetry in Italy and beyond Italy?” Calzolari goes on to praise “the most learned and never adequately celebrated Madonna Laura Battifferra de gl’Amannati”; cited in Laura Battiferra and Her Literary Circle, ed. and trans. Victoria Kirkham (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), 27. 95. Made considerably more vexed by the imaginative prose of Luigi Carrer’s chapter devoted to Stampa in his Anello di Sette Gemme, o Venezia e la sua Storia from 1838, and in which he argues for several contemporary paintings of the poet as the basis for the engraving in the 1738 edition of the Rime; as well as by Irma Jaffe with Gernando Columbardo, Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002), 248–63, who posit a Natalino da Murano, pupil of Titian, as a possibility. Zdeneˇk Kazlepka, of the Moravian Gallery in Brno, Czech Republic, in an otherwise illuminating article online at http://www.umeni-art.cz/cz/soubory/kazlepka.pdf (“Portrét Collaltina od Paola Veronese ve sveˇtle reedice Rime Gaspary Stampy 1738”) argues for Veronese’s hand, basing his decision in part on Carrer’s work. 96. This is not the place to go into a detailed study of the presumed images of Stampa. That is the work of Clare O’Donoghue, who is completing her thesis entitled “Finding the Face behind the Poem. A Study of the Images of Sixteenth-Century Female Italian Poets” at the University of Melbourne. Her paper, “ ‘Beautiful and Good, the Sappho of our Time’: Images of Gaspara

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n ings (see figs. 1 and 2) are in turn based, as Bergalli’s coeditor Rambaldo di Collalto declared, on a prior painting of Guercino from the collection of Charles VI: “Mi piace ancora d’aver avuta sorte di rinvenire il suo [di Gaspara] ritratto, copiato da valorosa mano dall’originale di Guercino da Cento, donato a me dalla Cesarea Cattolica Maesta’ di Carlo VI . . . il quale ritratto, fatto intagliare in rame, sul disegno del celeberrimo signor Daniel Antonio Bertoli, si dovrà porre in ornamento dell’opera” (I’m pleased to have had the chance to bring Gaspara’s portrait back to life, copied by a talented hand from the original by Guercino da Cento and given to me by His Majesty the King, the Catholic Charles VI . . . a portrait, engraved in copper on the design of the most famous Signor Daniel Antonio Bertoli, which will have to be placed in such a way as to adorn the work).97 For over two centuries the Guercino “original” was unidentified. But in a recent exhibition catalogue on Vittoria Colonna, Sylvia Ferino-Pagden suggests that it may have been a missing painting of “La poesia,” dated 1640 and known now only through a presumed copy in Bologna entitled La musica (see fig. 3).98 The Bologna painting features a contemplative woman crowned with a laurel wreath who gazes to her right in the direction of a suspended viola as she leans on a pile of books and fingers a parchment.99 Yet even if

Stampa, Courtesan Poet,” was presented to the University of Melbourne’s research group in European Visual Culture in 2004 and is the source of many of the following remarks. My warmest thanks to Ms. O’Donoghue for sharing with me the fascinating details of her research. As for the illustration in the 1554 Padua edition (Sistema bibliotecario Urbano, CF.0021), Jaffe (Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune, 246) assumes incorrectly that it is present in all exemplars. That the engraving did not appear in the Padua volume until some time after 1840 is clear from the meticulous volume by Count Pietro Leopoldo Ferri, Biblioteca femminile italiana (Padua: Crescini, 1842), in which the count gives detailed information on the 1554 volume and makes no reference to a “ritratto.” The dedicatory pages instead are described as follows: “otto carte non numerate contengono il Frontespizio, la Dedicatoria, Rime di varj in lode dell’Autrice, ed una Lettera della medesima a Collaltino” (547). My thanks to the librarians at the Biblioteca Civica di Padova for their assistance, particularly to Dottoressa Gilda P. Mantovani and Chiara Maroso. 97. Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa con alcune altre di Collaltino. . . . , xx–xxi. Recent work by Catherine M. Sama suggests that the artist Felicità Sartori was responsible for the engraving, based on Bertoli’s design. Sartori was a pupil of the well-known artist Rosalba Carriera, a close friend and associate of Luisa Bergalli, the editor of the 1738 volume of Stampa’s poetry. See Sama, “ ‘On Canvas and on the Page’: Women Shaping Culture in Eighteenth-Century Venice,” in Italy’s Eighteenth Century: Gender and Culture in the Age of the Grand Tour, ed. Paula Findlen, Wendy Wassyng Roworth, and Catherine M. Sama (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009), 142. 98. See the entry “Gaspara Stampa,” in Sylvia Ferino-Pagden, Vittoria Colonna: Dichterin und Muse Michelangelos (Vienna: Kunsthistorisches Museum, 1997), 216. 99. See the entry for “La Poesia,” no. 189, in Luigi Salerno, ed., I dipinti del Guercino (Rome: Bozzi, 1988), 272. Salerno suggests that the painting “may be a workshop copy of the lost original” of “La Poesia,” made for one Signor Filippo Ballattini of Bologna in 1640.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n

[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Figure 1. Engraving of Gaspara Stampa (?) on the design of Daniel Antonio Bertoli. From the 1738 volume of the Rime, ed. Bergalli and Collalto. Photograph: © DeA Picture Library / Art Resource, New York.

this is the “missing” Guercino, we must remember that the painter was born in 1591, four decades after Stampa’s death. Portrait or not, O’Donoghue suggests that Guercino’s allegorical figure for poetry may be based on yet a prior source that provides what she calls the “ultimate sixteenth-century example” of the Muses, with “their attributes of musical instruments, books, scrolls, quills, and gesturing finger”: Sappho from Raphael’s Mount Parnassus in the Stanza of the Signatura in the Vatican (see fig. 4). Her laurel wreath, her bared shoulder, her half-unfurled scroll revealing her name—the only such identification in the entire painting—the lute that she brandishes as

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n

Figure 2. Anonymous engraved frontispiece (and title page from Gaspara Stampa’s 1554 Rime preserved in the Municipal Library of Padua), inserted into the volume after 1840. By permission of the City of Padua, Ministry of Culture. Photographer Alessandro Romanin.

she looks toward the cluster of fellow poets (Alcaeus, Corinna, Petrarch, and Anacreon): might this not be the genesis of Guercino’s Musica on which the subsequent engravings are based, and which came to be associated with Stampa? Guercino’s figure is more chastely and somberly dressed, the dark and heavy vestments adding gravity to Raphael’s lithe but muscular nymph. And yet it is possible that even so altered, Guercino’s painting refers back to Raphael’s famous fresco, which places Sappho in conversation with three poets of ancient Greece and an observant Petrarch. Guercino may have been unaware of the Paduan poet who had been dead for almost a century when he painted for one “Signore Filippo Ballattini di Bologna” “Una Poesia,” and how closely the Bologna painting of “Musica” resembles that of “Poesia” is unknown. Likely to remain unknown as well is the reason why Count Rambaldo, Collaltino’s aristocratic heir, assumed that the work was a portrait of his ancestor’s lover. As with Stampa’s original manuscript or manuscripts of her Rime, this image too may be destined to remain forever lost. Nonetheless, as Daniel Antonio Bertoli made the design for the 1738 engraving and presumably exchanged the viola for a lyre, the sitter’s austere black garb for a lighter one that revealed an allur-

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n

Figure 3. Anonymous painting, “La Musica” (ca. 1640), no. 189 from I dipinti del Guercino (ed. Luigi Salerno).

ing décolletage, and a hand neatly resting on a piece of paper for a finger pointing to a verse, he was arguably returning more explicitly to Raphael’s Sappho, if not working directly from Guercino’s lost image. In so doing, he can be said to clarify Guercino’s borrowings from a possible source in the Vatican and thus to accentuate the connection between antique and modern poet as well. If this in turn is how Stampa has been received since the mideighteenth century, when she was effectively reintroduced to the world— modulated through the work of two of Renaissance and Baroque Italy’s finest painters—one can hardly assume that she would mind.

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[To view this image, refer to the print version of this title.]

Figure 4. Raphael, Parnassus (early sixteenth century) (detail). Stanza della Segnatura, Stanze di Raffaello, Vatican Palace. Photograph: © Alinari / Art Resource, New York.

A NOT E ON T H I S ED I T I ON A N D TRAN S L ATI O N

This current volume attempts to reproduce the 1554 edition of Stampa’s poetry as closely as possible. To this end, first and foremost, the order of the 310 poems that follow reproduces that of the 1554 edition—one only mildly tampered with in the 1738 text but significantly changed by Ab-

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n delkader Salza in 1913. The 1738 volume included two poems not in the 1554 collection, which have been placed here in appendix A: a poem to Jacopo Bonetto, which replaces what in the 1554 edition was poem 243, “S’amor Natura al nobil’ intelletto,” and a capitolo entitled “Alma felice,” included in the 1738 volume as poem 311. Salza, on the other hand, substantially rearranged the final third of the poems beginning with 193, “S’io non havessi al cor già fatto un callo.” He dissolved the generic breakdown of the 1554 volume by placing the capitoli and madrigals in the middle of the sonnets (beginning with the capitolo 286, which becomes 241) and ending the entire Rime with the penitential 278 (“Mesta, e pentita de’ miei gravi errori”). Presumably thus rearranged, the poems made for a better story: they tell of Stampa’s passion for Collaltino, its climax, and its aftermath as Stampa moves on to Zen and perhaps a third lover, and they end with the remorseful poems to the nun who supposedly grieved over Stampa’s waywardness100 and to Christ on the cross. True, Cassandra and possibly Gaspara herself had placed such poems toward the end of the sonnet sequence. Yet they do not close the sonnets, nor do they end the collection itself. Thus for readers accustomed to modern editions of the Rime, whether the Salza or Bellonci editions or the partial English translation of Stampa’s poems by Laura Anna Stortoni and Mary Prentice Lillie, the “rearrangement” as reflected in these pages will contain some surprises.101 This current edition also strives to maintain, as much as practicable, the experience of reading the original 1554 printing. As a textual exercise, it is tempting to regulate spacing or enforce orthographical consistency upon a volume that does not recognize these virtues, but to do so, as have the

100. Salza suggests that this is Suora Paola Antonia de’Negri, whose letter to Stampa was published in Nuovo libro di lettere dei più rari auttori della lingua volgare italiana (Venice: Paolo Gherardo, 1545), 98–100a. In this epistle, which Salza champions as proof of Stampa’s profession as a courtesan, Negri exhorts her young friend to turn her studies to chaste and holy things and to refuse to be dazzled by admiring men. She closes with “stroncate da voi quelle pratiche e conversazioni che vi alienano da Christo, e mettonvi in pericolo, o possono dare nota di suspicione a quella bella onestà, che in voi riluce” (tear yourself away from those practices and conversations that endanger you and distance you from Christ, and which could give rise to suspicions about the chastity that so shines within you); quoted in Salza, “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini,” 64–66. 101. See Adriana Chemello’s hopes for a modern edition of the 1554 text: “La lettura secondo l’edizione originaria aiuterebbe a svelare meglio connessioni nuove, opacizzate o rese irriconoscibili dall’alterata disposizione dei testi” (An interpretation of Stampa according to the original edition would help reveal to us new connections rendered opaque or unrecognizable by [Salza’s] juxtaposition of the poems; “Le ricerche erudite di Luisa Bergalli,” 70). This edition offers itself as a return to that original text and will, we hope, generate the kinds of connections of which Chemello speaks.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n twentieth-century editions, would be to compromise the authentic, albeit frustrating, mechanics of Stampa’s original canzoniere. Thus inconsistencies in elisions (che’l can also be the two words che ’l), in spelling (avverso appears alongside averso), in capitalization (Abisso and abisso), and in diacritics (46 gives both fa and fà, 287 both fu and fù) have all been preserved. Though we might all welcome revisions of, say, the comma of cinquecento verse, the punctuation of this edition reflects the original; any changes are noted in the apparatus. The interchangeable characters u and v are nonetheless conformed to modern spelling and the long-s ligatures replaced with the letter s. Likewise, the sharp-s ligature (ß) has been silently replaced with ss, as its use in the original 1554 edition does not obey any strict phonic or typographical criteria; it is used consistently only for Stampa’s poetic persona, always spelled Anaßilla. Finally, numbers have been added to the poems for easy referencing. Significant discrepancies between the 1554 and the three major subsequent editions of 1738, 1913, and 1954—anything that would suggest alternate syllabication or pronunciation or would prescribe a change in any aspect of grammar, typesetting, or semantics (e.g., venenoso v. velenoso)—are noted in the apparatus. Most of the time, though, the differences concern punctuation, diacritics, and spelling (for example, the Latinate t, as in gratia, is changed by all later editions to the standard z, grazia; all silent h’s are dropped), and whenever doing so will not conflict with a meaningful subsequent reading, this edition will silently give the original. Though the grave in [co]sì, to take the most vexing example, is quite often missing from the 1554 edition, these cases are flagged only when the resultant spelling could be cogently understood as the pronoun si. Ampersands, which this current edition maintains from the original, pose a particular problem, since they seem to have been used mostly, but by no means exclusively, when preceding a vowel. The alternative would have replaced each ligature with ed or e, depending on the context. Such substitution would not be faithful to the original, however, since the 1554 edition uses et, never ed, even occasionally before phonically similar consonants (e.g., 31.8, et ciò; 310.4, et di me). No later edition maintains either the ampersands or, with two exceptions, Stampa’s consistent preference for et over ed (though all editions do keep et in 209.14, and Salza and Bellonci in 264.13). A last note regards accentuation. The 1554 volume does not add diacritics to capital letters. Instead, it substitutes for them a vertical apostrophe ('), distinct from the curved form (’) used for elisions and abbreviations. This occasionally leads to the delightful combinations E'’l for è + il and O'’l for ò + il. As in the 1554 edition, the majuscules are kept without diacritics, but to

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s I n t r o d u c t i o n avoid confusion with modern apostrophes, a grave accent (`) is used in place of a vertical line to mark them. As for the translation, meter is respected insofar as possible; rhyme is enforced on occasion in the sonnets and capitoli, and rather more rigorously in the madrigals. Internal rhyme has been observed wherever its use didn’t distort sense. In many cases, the rhymes within the lines create a far more musical effect than that of the end-rhymes. Generally, however, the translator has attempted to recreate Stampa’s inspiring blend of informality and formal structure, and to balance her attentiveness to the rules of petrarchismo—its at times rigid vocabulary, the necessary observance of social structure—with her own, often idiosyncratic tenets of versifying and song. But as Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, another true original who lived 150 years after Stampa, once wrote, “ad impossibilia nemo tenetur”: no one is obliged to do the impossible.102 NO TE O N T R A N S LAT I ON S R EF ER R ED T O I N TH E E D I TI O N

Unless otherwise noted in the introduction and the text, all translations are my own, except in reference to the following authors, for which established felicitous translations have been consulted. Full bibliographical information is in the volume editor’s bibliography. Ariosto: Guido Waldman, 1974 Catullus: F. W. Cornish, 1962 Dante: Allen Mandelbaum, 1980–84 Homer: A. T. Murray, 1999 Horace: Odes and Epodes, Niall Rudd, 2004; Satires, Epistles and Ars poetica, H. Rushton Fairclough, 1926 Longinus: W. H. Fyfe, 1995 Matraini: Elaine Maclachlan, 2007 Ovid: Frank Justus Miller, 1960 Petrarch: Robert M. Durling, 1976 Propertius: G. P. Goold, 1990 Sappho: David Campbell, 1982 Tibullus: J. P. Postgate, 1962 Virgil: H. Rushton Fairclough / G. P. Goold, 1999–2000 Jane Tylus 102. Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz, La Respuesta a Sor Filotea, in Poems, Protest, and a Dream, trans. Margaret Sayers Peden (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1997), 11.

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VOLUME EDITOR’S BIBLIOGRAPHY

ED I T I ON S OF S TA M PA

Rime di madonna Gaspara Stampa. Venice: Plinio Pietrasanta, 1554. Rime, con alcune altre di Collaltino, e di Vinciguerra, conti di Collalto, e di Baldassare Stampa. Giuntovi diversi componimenti di varj autori in lode della medesima. Ed. Antonio Rambaldo di Collalto and Luisa Bergalli. Venice: Francesco Piacentini, 1738. Gaspara Stampa-Veronica Franco: Rime. Ed. Abdelkader Salza. Bari: Laterza, 1913. Rime. Introduction by Maria Bellonci, notes by Rodolfo Ceriello. Milan: Biblioteca Universale Rizzoli, 1954. Gaspara Stampa e altre poetesse del ’500. Ed. Francesco Flora. Milan: Nuova Accademia, 1962.

PR I M A RY S OU R CES

Alighieri, Dante. La Divina Commedia. Ed. Anna Maria Chiavacci Leonardi. 3 vols. Milan: Mondadori, 1991–94. ———. The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri. Trans. Allen Mandelbaum. 3 vols. Toronto: Bantam, 1980–84. Anselmi, G. M., et al. Lirici europei del cinquecento. Milan: Rizzoli, 2004. Aragona, Tullia d’. Le rime di Tullia d’Aragona: cortigiana del secolo XVI. Ed. Enrico Celani. Bologna: Romagnoli dall’Acqua, 1891. Ariosto, Ludovico. Orlando furioso. In Orlando furioso e cinque canti, ed. Remo Ceserani and Sergio Zatti. 2 vols. Turin: UTET, 1997. ———. Orlando furioso. Trans. Guido Waldman. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974. ———. Rime. Ed. Stefano Bianchi. Milan: Biblioteca Universale Rizzoli, 1992. Baldacci, Luigi, ed. Lirici del cinquecento. Milan: Longanesi, 1975. Battiferra degli Ammannati, Laura. Laura Battiferra and Her Literary Circle: An Anthology. Ed. and trans. Victoria Kirkham. Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. ———. Il primo libro delle opere toscane. Ed. Enrico Maria Guidi. Urbino: Accademia Raffaello, 2000.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y Bembo, Pietro. Prose e rime. Ed. Carlo Dionisotti. 2nd ed. Turin: UTET, 1966. Bergalli, Luisa, ed. Componimenti poetici delle più illustri rimatrici d’ogni secolo. 2 vols. Venice: Antonio Mora, 1726. Berni, Francesco. Rime burlesche. Ed. Giorgio Bàrberi Squarotti. Milan: Rizzoli, 1991. La Biblia. Trans. Antonio Brucioli. Venice: Giunti, 1532. Accessed via La Bibbia nel ’500: edizioni interpretazione censure, http://bibbia.signum.sns.it, Istituto Nazionale di Studi sul Rinascimento. Boccaccio, Giovanni. Ameto Comedia delle Nimphe Fiorentine di Messer Giovanni Boccaccio da Certaldo. Con La Dichiaratione de i luoghi difficili di Messer Francesco Sansovino. Venice: Giolito, 1545. ———. Filocolo. In Tutte le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio, vol. 1: Caccia di Diana, Filocolo. Ed. Vittore Branca. Milan: Mondadori, 1967. ———. Filostrato. In Tutte le opere di Giovanni Boccaccio, vol. 2: Filostrato, Teseida delle nozze di Emilia, Comedia delle ninfe fiorentine. Ed. Vittore Branca. Milan: Mondadori, 1964. Bulifon, Antonio, ed. Rime di Cinquanta illustri poetesse. Naples, 1695. Cambio, Perissone. Il primo libro de madrigali a quatro voci [1547]. Ed. Martha Feldman. New York: Garland, 1989. Campbell, David A. Greek Lyric: Sappho and Alcaeus. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1982. Catullus. The Poems of Gaius Valerius Catullus. Trans. F. W. Cornish. In Catullus, Tibullus, Pervigilium Veneris. Gen. ed. G. P. Goold. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1962. Cinzio, Giraldi. Le fiamme [reproduction of 1548 Giolito edition]. Rome: Biblioteca Italiana, 2003. Accessed via Biblioteca Italiana, http://www.bibliotecaitaliana.it, Università degli Studi di Roma “La Sapienza.” Colonna, Vittoria. Rime. Ed. Alan Bullock. Rome: Laterza, 1982. ———. Sonnets for Michelangelo. Ed. and trans. Abigail Brundin. Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Cruz, Sor Juana Inés de la. Poems, Protest, and a Dream. Trans. Margaret Sayers Peden. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1997. da Correggio, Niccolò. Rime. In Opere, ed. Antonia Tissoni Benvenuti. Bari: Laterza, 1969. da Prato, Domenico. Le rime. Ed. Roberta Gentile. Anzio: De Rubeis, 1993. della Casa, Giovanni. Galateo ovvero de’ costumi. Ed. Stefano Prandi. Rev. ed. Turin: Einaudi, 2000. ———. Rime. Ed. Giuliano Tanturli. Parma: Fondazione Pietro Bembo / Ugo Guanda, 2001. Dolce, Lodovico, ed. Delle rime scelte da diversi autori, di nuovo corrette, et ristampate. Venice: Giolito, 1565. Domenichi, Lodovico, ed. Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne, raccolte per M. Lodovico Domenichi. Lucca: Vincenzo Busdragho, 1559. Ferri, Count Pietro Leopoldo. Biblioteca femminile italiana. Padua: Crescini, 1842. Gambara, Veronica. Le rime. Ed. Alan Bullock. Florence/Perth: Olschki / University of Western Australia Press, 1995. Gonzaga, Lucrezia. Lettere della molta illustre . . . donna Lucretia Gonzaga da Gazuolo. Venice: Gualtero Scotto, 1552. Homer. Iliad. Trans. A. T. Murray. Ed. William F. Wyatt. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y Horace. Odes and Epodes. Trans. and ed. Niall Rudd. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. ———. Satires, Epistles and Ars poetica. Trans. H. Rushton Fairclough. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1929. Labé, Louise. Œuvres complètes. Ed. François Rigolot. Paris: Flammarion, 1986. Lando, Ortenzio. “Lucrezia Gonzaga a messer Ortensio Lando.” Lettere impresse sotto il suo nome in Venezia [1552]. In “Documenti: Gaspara Stampa nelle testimonianze dei contemporanei,” prefatory documents to Gaspara Stampa, Rime, ed. Maria Bellonci. Milan: Biblioteca Universale Rizzoli, 1954–56. ———. Paradossi, cioè, Sentenze fuori del comun parere. Ed. Antonio Corsaro. Rome: Edizioni di storia e letteratura, 2000. Longinus. On the Sublime. Trans. W. H. Fyfe. Revised Donald Russell. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995. Matraini, Chiara. Selected Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Elaine Maclachlan. Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Molino, Girolamo. Rime. Venice, 1573. Nannini, Remigio. Rime. Ed. Domenico Chiodo. Turin: RES, 1997. Ovid. Epistole d’Ovidio. Trans. Remigio Nannini. San Mauro Torinese: RES, 1992. ———. Metamorphoses. Trans. Frank Justus Miller. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1960. Parabosco, Gerolamo. Lettere amorose. Venice: Giolito, 1545. ———. Primo libro dei madrigali. Ed. Nicola Longo. Rome: Bulzoni, 1987. Petrarch, Francesco. Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: The Rime sparse and Other Lyrics. Trans. and ed. Robert M. Durling. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1976. ———. Rerum vulgarium fragmenta. Ed. Marco Santagata. Milan: Mondadori, 2004. ———. Triumphi. Ed. Marco Ariani. Milan: Mursia, 1988. Il Primo libro dell’opere burlesche. Di Messer. Gio. Della Casa, del Varchi, del Mauro, di M. Bino . . . Florence: Giunti, 1552. Propertius. Elegies. Trans. and ed. G. P. Goold. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990. Rilke, Rainer Maria. Duino Elegies. Trans. Will Crichton and Mary C. Crichton. Copenhagen: Green Integer, 2003. Ruscelli, Girolamo, ed. Del tempio alla divina signora donna Giovanna d’Aragona. Venice: Plinio Pietrasanta, 1555. ———, ed. Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, nuovamente raccolte, et mandate in luce. Con un discorso di Girolamo Ruscelli. Al molto reverendo, et honoratiss. Monsignor Girolamo Artusio. Venice: Segno del Pozzo, 1553. Sammarco, Ottavio, ed. Il Tempio della divina signora Donna Geronima Colonna d’Aragona. Padua: Pasquati, 1568. Sansovino, Francesco. Ragionamento di Messer Francesco Sansovino. In Trattati d’amore del Cinquecento. Ed. Giuseppe Zonta, 150–84. Bari: Laterza, 1912. ———. Venetia Citta nobilissima et singolare, descritta in xiiii libri. Venice: Iacomo Sansovino, 1581. Tebaldeo, Antonio. Rime della vulgata. Ed. Tania Basile. In Rime, vol. 2, pt. 1: Testi. Gen. eds. Tania Basile and Jean-Jacques Marchand. Modena: Panini, 1989–92. Tibullus. Tibullus. Trans. J. P. Postgate. In Catullus, Tibullus, Pervigilium Veneris. Gen. ed. G. P. Goold. 2nd ed. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988.

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S ECON D A RY S OU R C E S

Bassanese, Fiora A. “Defining Spaces: Venice in the Poetry of Gaspara Stampa and Veronica Franco.” In Medusa’s Gaze: Essays on Gender, Literature, and Aesthetics in the Italian Renaissance, in Honor of Robert J. Rodini, ed. Paul Ferrara, Eugenio Giusti, and Jane Tylus, 91–105. Boca Raton, FL: Bordighera, 2004 ———. Gaspara Stampa. Boston: Twayne, 1982. Benfall, V. Stanley. “Translating Petrarchan Desire in Vittoria Colonna and Gaspara Stampa.” In Translating Desire in Medieval and Early Modern Literature, ed. Craig A. Berry and Heather Richardson Hayton. Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005, 109–31. Benson, Pamela Joseph, and Victoria Kirkham, eds. Strong Voices, Weak History: Early Women Writers and Canons in England, in France and Italy. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005. Borsetto, Luciana. “Narciso ed Eco. Figura e scrittura nella lirica femminile del Cinquecento: esemplificazioni ed appunti.” In Nel cerchio della luna: Figure di donna in alcuni testi del XVI secolo, ed. Marina Zancan, 171–233. Venice: Marsilio, 1983. Braden, Gordon. “Gaspara Stampa and the Gender of Petrarchism.” Texas Studies in Literature and Language 38, no. 2 (1996): 115–39. Carrer, Luigi. Anello di Sette Gemme, o Venezia e la sua Storia: Considerazioni e fantasie. Venice: Gondoliere, 1838. Casagrande, Rita. Le cortigiane veneziane nel ’500. Milan: Longanesi, 1968. Chemello, Adriana. “Le ricerche erudite di Luisa Bergalli.” In Geografie e genealogie letterarie: erudite, croniste, narratrici, épistolières, utopiste tra Settecento e Ottocento, ed. Adriana Chemello and Luisa Ricaldone, 69–88. Padua: Il Poligrafo, 2000. ———. “Tra ‘pena’ e ‘penna’: La storia singolare della ‘fidelissima Anassilla.’ ” In L’una et l’altra chiave: Figure e momenti del petrarchismo femminile europeo, ed. Tatiana Crivelli, Giovanni Nicoli and Mara Santi, 45–77. Rome: Salerno, 2005. Chojnacki, Stanley. Women and Men in Renaissance Venice. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000. Cox, Virginia. “Beyond the Courts: Gaspara Stampa.” Unpublished paper. ———. Women’s Writing in Italy: 1400–1650. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008. Croce, Benedetto. Poesia popolare e poesia d’arte. 2nd ed. Bari: Laterza, 1946

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y DeJean, Joan. Fictions of Sappho, 1546–1937. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. De Rycke, Dawn. “On Hearing the Courtesan in a Gift of Song: The Venetian Case of Veronica Franco.” In Courtesan’s Arts, ed. Feldman and Gordon, 124–32. Dionisotti, Carlo. Scritti sul Bembo. Ed. Claudio Vela. Turin: Einaudi, 2002. Dizionario biografico degli italiani. Rome: Istituto della enciclopedia italiana, 1982–. Donadoni, Eugenio. Gaspara Stampa. Messina: Principato, 1919. Erspamer, Francesco. “La poesia lirica dal Cinquecento all’Arcadia.” In Manuale di letteratura Italiana. Storia per generi e problemi, vol. 2: Dal Cinquecento alla metà del Settecento, ed. Franco Brioschi and Costanzo Di Girolamo, 285–355. Turin: Bollati Boringhieri, 1994. Feldman, Martha. “The Academy of Domenico Venier, Music’s Literary Muse in Mid-Cinquecento Venice.” Renaissance Quarterly 44.3 (1991): 476–512. ———. City Culture and the Madrigal at Venice. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995. ———. “The Courtesan’s Voice: Petrarchan Lovers, Pop Philosophy, and Oral Traditions.” In Courtesan’s Arts, ed. Feldman and Gordon, 105–23. Feldman, Martha, and Bonnie Gordon, eds. The Courtesan’s Arts: Cross-cultural Perspectives. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006. Ferino-Pagden, Sylvia. Vittoria Colonna. Dichterin und Muse Michelangelos. Vienna: Kunsthistoriches Museum, 1997. Finotti, Fabio. “Women Writers in Renaissance Italy: Courtly Origins of New Literary Canons.” In Strong Voices, Weak History, ed. Benson and Kirkham, 287–313. Flosi, Justin. “On Locating the Courtesan in Italian Lyric: Distance and the Madrigal Texts of Costanzo Festa.” In Courtesan’s Arts, ed. Feldman and Gordon, 133–49. Forni, Giorgio. “ ‘L’orecchie mi tirò ne l’ore prime.’ Nota su Giovanni della Casa e Gaspara Stampa.” In Quondam, Giovanni Della Casa: un seminario per il centenario, 289–300. Grendler, Paul F. Critics of the Italian World, 1530–60: Anton Francesco Doni, Nicolò Franco, and Ortensio Lando. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969. ———. “Religious Restlessness in Sixteenth-Century Italy.” CCHA Study Sessions 33 (1966): 25–38. Grubb, James S. Provincial Families of the Renaissance: Private and Public Life in the Veneto. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996. Haar, James. Essays on Italian Poetry and Music in the Renaissance, 1350–1600. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. Hill, John Walter. “Training a Singer for ‘musica recitativa’ in Early SeventeenthCentury Italy: The Case of Baldassare.” In Musicologia humana: Studies in Honor of Warren and Ursula Kirkendale. Florence: Olschki, 1994. 345–58. Hooker, Lynn. “Gaspara Stampa: Venetian, Petrarchist, and Virtuosa.” Seminar paper. University of Chicago, Winter 1992. Jaffe, Irma, with Gernando Columbardo. Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets. New York: Fordham University Press, 2002. Jones, Ann Rosalind. “Bad Press: Modern Editors versus Early Modern Women Poets (Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, Veronica Franco).” In Strong Voices, Weak History, ed. Benson and Kirkham, 287–313. ———. The Currency of Eros: Women’s Love Lyric in Europe, 1540–1620. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990.

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Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y Kazlepka, Zdeneˇk. “Portrét Collaltina od Paola Veronese ve sveˇtle reedice Rime Gaspary Stampy 1738.” www.umeni-art.cz/cz/soubory/kazlepka.pdf. Lipking, Lawrence. Abandoned Women and Poetic Tradition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Molmenti, Pompeo. La storia di Venezia nella vita privata dalle origini alla caduta della repubblica. 3 vols. Bergamo: Istituto italiano d’arti grafiche, 1910–22. Moore, Mary B. Desiring Voices: Women Sonneteers and Petrarchism. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000. Muir, Edward. Civic Ritual in Renaissance Venice. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981. Mussini Sacchi, Maria Pia. “L’eredità di Fiammetta. Per una lettura delle Rime di Gaspara Stampa.” Studi italiani 19 (1998): 35–51. O’Donoghue, Clare. “Finding the Face behind the Poem. A Study of the Images of Sixteenth-Century Female Italian Poets.” Ph.D. thesis in preparation. University of Melbourne. Phillippy, Patricia. “ ‘Altera Dido’: The Model of Ovid’s Heroides in the Poems of Gaspara Stampa and Veronica Franco.” Italica 69, no. 1 (1992): 1–18. ———. Love’s Remedies: Recantation and Renaissance Lyric Poetry. London: Associated University Presses, 1995. Prins, Yopie. Victorian Sappho. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1999. Quondam, Amedeo, ed. Giovanni Della Casa: un seminario per il centenario. Rome: Bulzoni, 2006. Ray, Meredith K. Writing Gender in Women’s Letter Collections of the Italian Renaissance. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2009. Richardson, Brian. Print Culture in Renaissance Italy: The Editor and the Vernacular Text, 1470–1600. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. Robin, Diana. “Courtesans, Celebrity, and Print Culture in Renaissance Venice: Tullia d’Aragona, Gaspara Stampa, and Veronica Franco.” In Italian Women and the City, ed. Smarr and Valentini, 38–59. ———. Publishing Women: Salons, the Presses, and the Counter-Reformation in Sixteenth-Century Italy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Rosenthal, Margaret F. The Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citizen and Writer in SixteenthCentury Venice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Ruggiero, Guido. The Boundaries of Eros: Sex Crime and Sexuality in Renaissance Venice. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. ———. Violence in Early Renaissance Venice. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1980. Salerno, Luigi, ed. I dipinti del Guercino. Rome: Bozzi, 1988. Salza, Abdelkader. “Madonna Gasparina Stampa e la società veneziana del suo tempo: Nuove discussioni.” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 69 (1917): 217– 306; 70 (1917): 1–60; appendices, 281–99. ———. “Madonna Gasparina Stampa secondo nuove indagini.” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 62 (1913): 1–101. Sama, Catherine M. “ ‘On Canvas and on the Page’: Women Shaping Culture in Eighteenth-Century Venice.” In Italy’s Eighteenth Century: Gender and Culture in the Age of the Grand Tour. Ed. Paula Findlen, Wendy Wassyng Roworth, and Catherine M. Sama. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2009. 125-50.

Vo l u m e E d i t o r ’s B i b l i o g r a p h y Santosuosso, Antonio. “Religious Orthodoxy, Dissent and Suppression in Venice in the 1540s.” Church History 42 (1973): 476–85. Smarr, Janet Levarie. “Gaspara Stampa’s Poetry for Performance.” Quidditas: Journal of the Rocky Mountain Medieval and Renaissance Association 12 (1991): 61–84. Smarr, Janet Levarie, and Daria Valentini, eds. Italian Women and the City: Essays. Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2003. Sole, Antonino. Studi su Bembo e Della Casa. Caltanissetta: Sciascia, 2006. Spiller, Michael R. G. The Development of the Sonnet: An Introduction. London: Routledge, 1992. Stagg, Geoffrey. “Cervantes’ ‘De Battro a Tile.’ ” MLN 69, no. 2 (1954): 96–99. Weinberg, Bernard. A History of Literary Criticism in the Italian Renaissance. 2 vols. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961. Zancan, Marina. Il doppio itinerario della scrittura: la donna nella tradizione letteraria italiana. Turin: Einaudi, 1998.

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R I M E D I M A D O N N A G A S PA R A S TA M PA I n Ve n e t i a , p e r P l i n i o P i e t r a s a n t a . M. D. L I I I I.

ALL’I LLU ST R I S S I M O ET R EVER EN D I S S . 1 M O N S I G . M. G I O VAN N I D ALLA CAS A , A R CI VES COVO D I BEN EV E N TO S U O S I G N O RE , CA S S A N D R A S TA M PA

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Poi che à Dio nostro Signore è piaciuto di chiamar à se, su’l fiore si può dire de gli anni suoi, la mia da me molto cara, et molto2 amata sorella; & ella partendo ha portato con esso lei tutte le mie speranze, tutte3 le consolationi, et la vita istessa; io ho cercato di levarmi davanti gli occhi tutte le sue cose, acciò che il vederle, et il trattarle non rinovasse l’accerbissima memoria di lei nell’animo mio, & per consequente non rinfrescasse la piaga de’ molti dolori, havendo perduto una così savia, e così valorosa4 sorella. Et volendo, & devendo far’ il medesmo di queste sue Rime, tessute da lei, parte per essercitio dello ingegno suo, felice quanto à Donna, se non m’inganna l’affettione fraterna; parte per esprimere alcun suo amoroso concetto. Molti gentilihuomini di chiaro spirito, che l’amarono, mentre visse, & hanno potere sopra di me, m’hanno tolta, mal mio grado, da questo proponimento, et costretta à raccogliere insieme quelle, che si sono potute trovare; mostrandomi, che io non devea, nè potea, per non turbar la mia pace, turbar la gloria della sorella, celando le sue fatiche honorate; questa adunque è stata la cagione, ch’io le ho fatto5 publicare. Perche poi io le habbia dedicate più à vostra Signoria Reverendissima, che ad altro Signore, è per questo. Tre, se io non erro, sono le sorti de’ Signori, che si trovano al mondo, di Natura, di Fortuna, et di Virtù; i due primi sono Signori di nome, l’ultimo di effetto; perche quelli sono fatti da altri, et questo si fà da se stesso; però à lui dirittamente si conviene il nome, et la riverenza di Signore. Girando per tanto gli occhi per tutta Italia, per trovare à chi più meritevolmente il nome di vero Signore si convenisse il vivo raggio di vostra Signoria Reverendiss.6 splendè7 à gli occhi miei da quella sua riposta solitudine, ove il più delle volte per dar opera à i suoi gravi, et alti studij, et pascer di pretiosissimo cibo il suo divino intel-

T H E R H Y M E S O F M A D O N N A G A S PA R A S TA M PA I n Ve n i c e , a t t h e p r e s s o f P l i n i o P i e t r a s a n t a . M. D. L I I I I

TO TH E I LLU S T R I OU S A N D M OS T R EVER E N D G I O VAN N I D E L L A CASA, BI S H OP OF BEN EVEN T O, 8 CA SS AN D RA S TAMPA.

Ever since it pleased Our Lord God to call to himself my most dear, beloved sister in the flower of her youth, and since her death deprived me of all my hopes and all my consolations, even life itself, I’ve sought to banish from my eyes anything that might renew this most bitter of memories in my heart and thus reopen the wound of grief caused from having lost such a worthy sister. And I wanted—indeed, I was driven—to do the same with the rhymes that she wove partly to exercise her wit (a special talent in a woman, if my sisterly affection doesn’t deceive me), partly to express some amorous conceit of hers. But many gentlemen of great fame who loved her while she lived and who have power over me have kept me from carrying out my intention, constraining me to gather together whatever verses of hers I could find.9 Thus they have pointed out to me that just to avoid disturbing my own peace of mind, I shouldn’t, I mustn’t diminish the glory of my sister and hide her honorable labors under a bushel. This, then, is why I’ve had them published. And as to why I have dedicated them to you, Most Reverend Lord, rather than to any other lord, I offer this. If I’m not in error, there are three kinds of lords in the world, deriving from the gifts of nature, fortune, and virtue. The first two are lords based on their name, the third based on their deeds. These first two are made by others, but this last is made by oneself, and thus to him the name and the respect worthy of a lord are most fitting. When I sought throughout all Italy to find the man who most merited the name of a true lord, it was only right that the bright ray of Your Most Reverend Lordship blazed forth to my eyes from that remote solitude of yours,10 where you often engage in lofty and serious studies and feed your divine

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Gaspara Stampa letto, si ritiene; sì fattamente, che, come ferro da calamita; sono stata tirata à viva forza à consacrarle à lei, perche oltra, che è Signore di natura, nato nobilissimo in nobilissima città d’ Italia; di Fortuna, per le ricchezze amplissime, che ella ha; di virtù, possedendo tutte le più nobili, et più segnalate scienze, che sì trovino,11 et allaquale come à chiarissima stella, e ferma, si deono12 indrizzare tutte le opere di quei, che nel mare di qual si voglia fatica honorata navigano.13 Io sono sicura, che in questo compiacerò anche alla benedetta anima della amata sorella mia, se di là s’ha alcun senso, ò memoria delle cose di questo mondo, la quale vivendo hebbe sempre per mira vostra Signoria Reverendissima come uno de’ più belli lumi d’ Italia, et destinate14 le sue fatiche; inchinando, et riverendo sempre il nome, et l’alto giudicio di lei qualunq;15 volta se ne ragionava, che era assai spesso, et portando à16 cielo i suoi dottissimi, leggiadrissimi, et gravissimi componimenti al pari di tutti gli antichi et moderni, che si leggono. Non isdegni adunque vostra Signoria Reverendissima, di ricever con quella molta bontà d’animo, che Dio le ha dato questi pochi frutti dell’ingegno della disideratissima sorella mia, dallaquale fù mentre visse osservata, et tanto reverita; contentandosi, che sotto l’ombra del suo celebratissimo nome si riposi anco la penna, lo studio, l’arte, e gli amorosi, e ferventi disiderij di una Donna con tante altre divinissime fatiche de i più alti et esquisiti spirti dell’età nostra; & con questo baciandole le dotte, & sacre mani faccio fine. Da Venetia a’17 xiij.d’Ottobre. M. D. LIIII.

A LLO I LLU S T R E M I O S I GN O RE . 1 8

Poi che le mie pene amorose, che per amor di V. S.19 porto scritte in diverse lettere & rime, non han possuto una per una, non pur far pietosa20 V. S. verso di me, ma farla ne anco cortese di scrivermi una parola. Io mi21 son rissoluta di ragunarle tutte in questo libro, per vedere se tutte insieme lo potranno fare. Qui dunque V. S. vedrà non il pelago delle passioni, delle lagrime, et de’ tormenti miei, perche è mar senza fondo; ma un picciolo ruscello solo di esse; nè pensi V. S. ch’io habbia ciò fatto, per farla conoscente della sua crudeltà, perche crudeltà non si può dire dove non è obligo, nè per contristarnela; ma per farla più tosto conoscente della sua grandezza, & allegarla.22 Perche vedendo esser’ usciti dalla durezza vostra, verso di me questi frutti congeturerà,23 quali saranno quelli, che usciranno dalla sua pietà, se averrà mai, che i cieli me la faccino pietosa, ò obietto nobile, ò obietto chiaro, ò obietto divino, poi che tormentando ancora giovi, et fai frutto. Legga V. S. dunque quando haverà triegua dalle24 sue maggiori, e più care cure, le note delle cure amorose, et gravi della sua fidissima, et infelicissima

The Rime intellect on the most precious of foods. As iron is drawn to a magnet, so I’ve been drawn by a powerful force to consecrate these verses to you. For you are endowed with the qualities of a lord by nature, born nobly in the most noble city of Italy;25 by fortune, thanks to the ample riches that you have; and by your own virtue, since your learning is the noblest and most praiseworthy that can be found. Thus as though you were the north star, heaven’s brightest and most fixed, all who navigate the seas of respectable labors should address their works to you alone. I’m sure this dedication would please the blessed soul of my beloved sister, if in the great beyond she has any sense or memory of the things of this world—she who while alive always admired you, one of Italy’s most handsome lights, as someone to whom she might direct her words, revering as she did your name and your opinions. Often she spoke of you, praising to the skies your learned, graceful, and serious compositions, equal to the work of the ancients as well as the moderns. Let not then Your Most Reverend Lordship disdain to receive with the bountiful spirit God gave you these fruits of the talents of my beloved sister, talents that were acknowledged and respected while she still lived. May it please you if under the shade of your celebrated name, her pen, her studies, her arts, and the fervent desires of a woman may find repose with so many other divine undertakings of the loftiest and most exquisite spirits of our age. So with this do I kiss your wise and holy hands, and come to a close. From Venice, the 13th day of October, 1554. T O M Y I LLU S T R I OU S LO RD . 2 6

Since the amorous trials I’ve borne for love of Your Lordship, inscribed in various letters and rhymes, have not inclined you to take pity on me, or to render you sufficiently courteous to write me a single word as one by one they’ve come your way, I’ve resolved to collect them all in this book to see if they might make some impression on you when they’re together.27 Rather than finding here the ocean of my passions, tears, and torments—for such a sea can’t be sounded—Your Lordship will discover only a little brook. Please don’t imagine that I’ve done this so that you’ll acknowledge your cruelty, because one can’t call someone cruel where there’s no obligation, or to make you contrite; rather, it’s to make you aware of the sheer magnitude of your ruthlessness, and thus to enable you to rejoice.28 For once you realize that these are the fruits of your harsh feelings toward me, you can only imagine what fruits might arise from your pity, if one day heaven should make you compassionate. O noble, O renowned, O divine being, since you still take such relish in tormenting another, and from it reap such a harvest!

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Gaspara Stampa Anassilla; et da questa ombra prenda argomento quali ella le debba provare et sentir nell’animo, che certo se accaderà giamai, che la mia povera et mesta casa sia fatta degna del ricevere il suo grande hoste, che è V. S. io son sicura, che i letti, le camere, le sale, et tutto racconteranno i lamenti, i singulti, i sospiri, et le lagrime, che giorno, & notte ho sparse, chiamando il nome di V. S. benedicendo però sempre nel mezo de’ miei maggiori tormenti i cieli et la mia buona sorte della cagion d’essi; percioche, assai meglio è per voi Conte morire, che gioir per qualunque. Ma che fo io? perche senza bisogno tengo V. S. troppo lungamente à noia, ingiuriando anco le mie Rime, quasi che esse non sappian dir le lor ragioni, & habbian bisogno dell’altrui aita? rimettendomi dunque ad esse farò fine, pregando V. S. per ultimo guiderdone della mia fedelissima servitù, che nel ricever questo povero libretto, mi sia cortese sol di un sospiro, ilquale refreschi29 così lontano la memoria della sua dimenticata et abbandonata Anassilla. Et tu libretto mio depositario delle mie lagrime, appresentati nella più humil forma, che saprai dinanzi al Signor nostro in compagnia della mia candida fede. Et, se in recevendoti, vedrai rasserenar pur’ un30 poco quei miei fatali & eterni lumi, beate tutte le nostre fatiche & felicissime tutte le nostre speranze, & cosi ti31 resta seco eternamente in pace.

1

Voi ch’ascoltate in queste meste rime, In questi mesti, in questi oscuri accenti Il suon de gli amorosi miei lamenti, E de le pene mie tra l’altre prime, Ove fia chi valor’ apprezzi, e stime, Gloria, non che perdon, de’ miei lamenti32 Spero trovar fra le ben nate genti; Poi che la lor cagione è sì sublime. E spero ancor, che debba dir qualch’una, Felicissima lei, da che sostenne Per sì chiara cagion danno sì chiaro. Deh, perche tant’Amor, tanta Fortuna Per sì nobil Signor’ à me non venne, Ch’anch’io n’andrei con tanta Donna à paro?33

The Rime Thus, my lord, when you chance to have a moment of relief from more pressing occupations closer to your heart, read these notes of the burdensome and passionate cares of your most faithful, most unhappy Anassilla;34 and from this shadow come to understand how intensely she feels and experiences such things within. For if my poor, sad home should ever be so fortunate as to receive the great guest that is Your Lordship, I’m sure that the very beds, the chambers, the rooms themselves would recount to you the laments, the sobs, the sighs and tears that day and night I’ve scattered while calling out your name, blessing in the midst of my greatest trials heaven and my lucky stars for what they’ve wrought. Much better that I die for you, Count, than live to find joy in the arms of another. But what am I doing? Why do I needlessly bore you by going on at such length, insulting my rhymes as though they didn’t know how to speak for themselves and needed my help? Let me return to them and make an end of things, asking Your Lordship as a last reward for my devoted service that as you accept this poor little book you show sufficient courtesy to let a single sigh escape, which from faraway would comfort the memory of the forgotten and abandoned Anassilla. And you, little book, depository of my tears, present yourself as humbly as you know how when you arrive before our lord, with my sincere faith as your companion. And if when he receives you, you see his fatal and everlasting eyes brighten even a little, then all our efforts will have been blessed and our hopes fulfilled. Stay with him forever and in peace. 1

You who hear in these troubled rhymes,35 in these troubled and these dark accents, the sound of my amorous laments and sufferings that vanquish all others’— wherever valor is esteemed and prized, I hope to find glory among the well-born: glory and not only pardon; for what gives rise to my laments is so sublime. And I hope some woman will be moved to say: “Most happy she, who suffered famously for such a famous cause! Oh, why can’t the fortune that comes from loving a lord like him be mine, so such a lady and I might walk side by side?”36

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Gaspara Stampa 2

Era vicino il dì, che’l Creatore, Che ne l’altezza sua potea restarsi, In forma humana venne à dimostrarsi, Dal ventre Virginal’ uscendo fore; Quando degnò l’Illustre mio Signore, Per cui ho tanti poi lamenti sparsi, Potendo in luogo più alto annidarsi; Farsi nido, e ricetto del mio core. Ond’io sì rara, e sì alta ventura Accolsi lieta; e duolmi sol, che tardi Mi fè degna di lei l’eterna cura. Da indi in quà pensieri, e speme, e sguardi Volsi à lui tutti fuor d’ogni misura Chiaro, e gentil quanto’l Sol giri37 e guardi. 3

Se di rozo pastor di gregge, e folle Il giogo Ascreo fe diventar Poeta Lui, che poi salse à sì lodata meta, Che quasi à tutti gli altri fama tolle; Che meraviglia fia s’alza, & estolle Me bassa e vile à scriver, tanta piéta, Quel, che può più, che studio, e che pianeta, Il mio verde, pregiato, & alto Colle? La cui sacra, honorata, e fatal’ ombra Dal mio cor, quasi subita tempesta, Ogni ignoranza, ogni bassezza sgombra. Questa da basso luogo m’erge, e questa Mi rinova lo stil, la vena adombra; Tanta virtù ne l’alma ogn’hor mi desta. 4

Quando fu prima il mio Signor concetto Tutti i Pianeti in ciel, tutte le stelle Gli dier le gratie, e queste doti, e quelle; Perch’ei fosse tra noi solo perfetto.

The Rime 2

It was near the day that the Creator came in human form to reveal himself when he could have stayed in his lofty domain, issuing forth from the virginal womb,38 that my illustrious lord,39 for whom I have scattered so many laments, and who might have lodged in a place more sublime, made himself a nest and refuge in my heart. Such rare good fortune I greeted with gladness; and regret only that Eternal Care made me worthy of it all so late. Since then my thoughts, my hopes, my gaze— all are turned to him, who exceeds all others under the sun in courtesy and fame. 3

If Ascrea’s peak could turn an uncouth shepherd of goats and sheep into a poet— he who rose to such praiseworthy heights that he stole renown from almost all others40— what marvel is it if that high and verdant hill41 lifted up someone like me, base and lowly, raised me up to write piteous verse, doing far more than study or the stars? His holy, revered, irresistible shade rushes through my heart, an impetuous storm, clearing out all that’s ignorant and base; it raises me up from lowly places, renews my style, renders gentle my song, and always awakens talent in my soul. 4

When my lord was first conceived, all the planets in the heavens, all the stars gave him their favors, all these gifts, so that he alone among us might be perfect:

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Gaspara Stampa Saturno diegli altezza d’intelletto; Giove il cercar le cose degne, e belle; Marte appo lui fece ogn’altr’huomo imbelle; Febo gli empì di stile e senno il petto, Vener gli diè bellezza, e leggiadria; Eloquentia Mercurio; ma la Luna Lo fè gelato più, ch’io non vorria. Di queste tante, e rare gratie ogn’una M’infiammò de la chiara fiamma mia, E per agghiacciar lui restò quell’una, 5

Io assimiglio42 il mio Signor’ al cielo Meco sovente. Il suo bel viso è’l Sole, Gli occhi, le stelle; e’l suon de le parole E` l’armonia, che fà’l Signor di Delo. Le tempeste, le piogge, i tuoni, e’l gelo Sono i suoi sdegni, quando irar si suole; Le bonaccie, e’l sereno è, quando vuole Squarciar de l’ire sue benigno il velo. La Primavera e’l germogliar de’ fiori E`, quando ei fa fiorir la mia speranza, Promettendo tenermi in questo stato. L’horrido verno è poi, quando cangiato Minaccia di mutar pensieri, e stanza, Spogliata me de’ miei più ricchi honori. 6

Un’ intelletto angelico, e divino, Una Real Natura, & un valore, Un disio vago di fama e d’honore, Un parlar saggio, grave, e pellegrino; Un sangue illustre, à gli alti Re vicino, Una Fortuna à poche altre minore, Un’età nel suo proprio, e vero fiore, Un’atto honesto, mansueto, e chino. Un viso più che’l Sol lucente e chiaro, Ove bellezza e gratia Amor riserra In non mai più vedute ò udite tempre.

The Rime Saturn gave him far-reaching intellect, and Jove the pursuit of worthy, beautiful things, Mars made him more warlike than any other man, while Phoebus filled his breast with style and judgment. Venus made him beautiful and lithe, and Mercury gave him eloquence: but the moon made him colder than I would have wished.43 Each one of these rare and many gifts inflamed the bright flame within me, while it took just that one to make him ice. 5

Often enough, I’ll liken my lord to the sky. His handsome face is the sun, his eyes, the stars, and the sound of his words sheer harmonies made by only Apollo.44 Tempest, rain showers, thunder, frost— when he is prone to anger, signs of his disdain. Fair weather and calm days are his wish to tear through the benign veil of his wrath. Spring and the bursting forth of flowers mark the flowering of my hope, and they promise to hold me there, forever— but then comes horrid winter, when changed, he threatens to alter thought and place,45 and I am stripped bare of my richest honors. 6

Angelic and divine intelligence, a nature and merit fit for a crown, desire hungry for honor and renown, a way of speaking that’s elegant and wise, illustrious of blood, kin to royalty, possessed of fortune known to very few, now in the age of his finest flowering, with a manner that’s modest, just, and kind, a countenance more radiant than the sun where love preserves its beauty and grace in modulations no longer seen, nor heard:

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Gaspara Stampa Fur le catene, che già mi legaro, E mi fan dolce & honorata guerra; O` pur piaccia ad Amor, che stringan sempre. 7

Chi vuol conoscer, Donne, il mio Signore, Miri un Signor di vago, e dolce aspetto, Giovane d’anni, e vecchio d’intelletto, Imagin de la gloria, e del valore. Di pelo biondo, e di vivo colore, Di persona alta, & spatioso petto; E finalmente in ogni opra perfetto, Fuor ch’un poco (oimè lassa) empio in amore. E chi vuol poi conoscer me, rimiri Una Donna in effetti, & in sembianti46 Imagin de la Morte, e de’ martiri. Un’albergo di fe salda47 e costante, Una, che perche pianga, arda, e sospiri, Non fà pietoso il suo crudel’amante. 8

Se così come sono abietta, e vile Donna, posso portar sì alto foco; Perche non debbo haver’ almeno un poco Di ritraggerlo al mondo, e vena e stile? S’Amor con novo, insolito focile, Ov’io non potea gir, m’alzò à tal loco; Perche non può non con usato gioco Far la pena e la penna in me simile? E se non può per forza di natura, Puollo almen per miracolo, che spesso Vince, trapassa, e rompe ogni misura. Come ciò sia non posso dir’ espresso; Io provo ben, che per mia gran ventura Mi sento il cor di novo stile impresso.

The Rime these were the chains that bound me once and engage me in sweet and honorable war. May Love let them hold me fast for all time! 7

Ladies, if you’d like to know my lord, picture a man of sweet and pleasing looks who’s young in years but mature of intellect, an image of glory and of valor. His hair is blond, his skin a lively color, he’s tall of build, broad-shouldered and broad-chested, and finally in every way he’s perfect— just (woe to me) a little cruel in love. And if you’d like to know me, picture this: a woman whose looks and acts alike convey images of suffering and death; a resting place for firm and constant faith; and one who though she cries and burns and sighs can’t make her cruel lover merciful. 8

If, a lowly, abject woman, I can carry within so sublime a flame, why shouldn’t I draw out at least a little of its style and vein to show the world? If love has lit a new and unheard-of spark to raise me up to a place I’d never gained, why, with equally uncommon skill, can’t it make my pen and pain the same? And if the force of sheer nature’s not enough, why then some miracle that often conquers, breaks, and ruptures every limit. How this could be, I can’t exactly say; I know only that my great destiny’s impressed upon my heart a sweet new style.

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Gaspara Stampa 9

S’avien, ch’un giorno Amor’ à me mi renda, E mi ritolga à questo empio Signore, Di che paventa, e non vorrebbe il core, Tal gioia del penar suo par, che prenda, Voi chiamerete in van la mia stupenda Fede, e l’immenso e smisurato amore, Di vostra crudeltà, di vostro errore Tardi pentito;48 ove non è chi intenda. Et io, cantando la mia libertade Da così duri lacci e crudi sciolta, Passerò lieta à la futura etade. Et se giusto pregar’ in ciel s’ ascolta, Vedrò forse anco in man di crudeltade La vita vostra à mia vendetta involta. 10

Alto Colle, gradito, e gratioso, Novo Parnaso mio, novo Elicona, Ove poggiando attendo la corona, De le fatiche mie, dolce riposo; Quanto sei qui tra noi chiaro e famoso, E quanto sei à Rodano e à Garona, A` dir’ in rime alto disio mi sprona, Ma l’opra è tal, che cominciar non oso. Anzi quanto averrà che mai ne canti Fia pura ombra del ver, perciò che’l vero Va di lungo il mio stil’, & l’altrui49 innanti; Le tue frondi, e’l tuo giogo verdi e’ntero Conservi’l cielo, albergo de gli amanti Colle gentil dignissimo d’Impero. 11

Arbor felice, aventuroso, e chiaro, Onde i duo rami sono al mondo nati, Che vanno in alto, e son già tanto alzati, Quanto raro altri rami unqua s’alzaro;

The Rime 9

If someday Love returns me to myself and releases me from that heartless lord (a thing the heart fears rather than desires— such joy it seems to wring from pain), you’ll invoke my boundless faith in vain and my love, immeasurable and deep;50 too late you’ll repent your cruelty and error, and no one will be there to listen. And I, free to sing my liberty, released of the ties that bind me, harsh and brutal, will move on gaily to some future era. And if it’s true that heaven hears just prayers, perhaps I’ll see you yet in cruelty’s grip, your life bound up with my vendetta. 10

High hill, agreeable and gracious, my new Helicon, my new Parnassus,51 where resting I await my crown, a sweet repose from all my labors: lofty desire spurs52 me to tell in rhyme how illustrious you are among us here and how much you’re known on the Garonne and Rhône;53 but the work is such that I dare not begin, for all that I will ever sing can merely shadow the truth. What is true goes far beyond my style and that of others. May heaven preserve your branches and crest and keep them ever green, a shelter for lovers, gentle hill, most worthy of an empire. 11

Happy tree, accomplished and renowned, which bears two branches into the world:54 they soar up so high and are so exalted, so rare that they eclipse all others,

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Gaspara Stampa Rami, che vanno à i grandi Scipij à paro, O` s’ altri fur di lor mai più lodati; Ben lo sanno i miei occhi fortunati, Che per bearsi in un d’essi miraro.55 A` te tronco, à56 voi rami sempre il cielo Piova rugiada, sì che non v’offenda Per avversa stagion caldo, nè gelo. La chioma vostra, e l’ombra s’apra e stenda Verde per tutto; e d’honorato zelo Odor, fior, frutti à tutt’Italia renda. 12

Deh, perche così tardo gli occhi apersi Nel divin, non humano amato volto, Ond’io scorgo mirando impresso, e scolto Un mar d’alti miracoli, e diversi? Non havrei lassa gli occhi indarno aspersi D’inutil pianto in questo viver stolto, Nè l’alma havria, com’ha, poco nè molto Di Fortuna, ò d’ Amore onde dolersi. E sarei forse di sì chiaro grido, Che, mercè de lo stil, ch’indi m’è dato, Risoneria fors’ Adria oggi, e’l suo lido. Ond’io sol piango il mio tempo passato, Mirando altrove; e forse anche mi fido Di far’ in parte il foco mio lodato. 13

Chi darà penne57 d’ Aquila, ò Colomba Al mio stil basso, si ch’ei prenda il volo Da l’Indo al Mauro, e d’ uno in altro Polo, Ove arrivar non può saetta, ò fromba? E, quasi chiara, e risonante tromba, La bellezza, il valor’ al mondo solo Di quel bel viso, ch’io sospiro e colo, Descriva sì, che l’opra non soccomba? Ma, poi che ciò m’è tolto, & io poggiare Per me stessa non posso, ove conviene, Sì che l’opra e lo stil vadan di pare,

The Rime 58

equal only to the brothers Scipio or others who may have earned more praise (my lucky eyes know this to be the case, blessed as they are to gaze on one of them)— on you, trunk, and on you, branches, may heaven always rain its dew, so that the seasons in their harshest cannot harm with heat or snow. May your locks and embracing shadow make all things green and offer to all Italy the scent, the fruit, and flowers of honored zeal. 12

Ah, why so late did my eyes open to the divine in that beloved face that is beyond human—and where I see a sea of varied wonders imprinted and incised? Alas, I would not have bathed my eyes in useless plaint for this foolish life, nor would my heart have lamented, much, what I had received from love or fortune. Perhaps all of the Adriatic and its shores59 would resound today with my name—so great thanks to the style he’s given me. I weep alone for this, days past when I gazed elsewhere. Yet even if late, I trust—perhaps— to make my fire worthy of some praise. 13

Who will give wings of an eagle or dove to my lowly style, so that it takes flight from the Indies to Mauritania, crossing the poles to where arrows and catapults can’t alight? So like a loud and resonant trumpet I might tell the beauty and valor of that handsome face—one of a kind—for which I sigh, in such a way that the work won’t die? But since that’s denied me, and I alone can’t climb where I should were my style and its theme to travel hand in hand,

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Gaspara Stampa L’udranno sol queste felici arene, Questo d’ Adria beato, e chiaro mare, Porto de’ miei diletti, e di mie pene. 14

Che meraviglia fu, s’al primo assalto Giovane, e sola io restai presa al varco, Stando Amor quindi con gli strali, e l’arco, E ferendo per mezo,60 hor basso, hor’ alto, Indi’l Signor, che’n rime orno, & essalto Quanto più posso, e’l mio dir resta parco Con due occhi, anzi strai, che spesso incarco Han fatto al Sole, & con un cor di smalto, Et, essendo da lato anche imboscate, Si ch’à modo nessun fess’io difesa, Alta61 virtute, & chiara nobiltate? Da tanti, e ta’ nemici restai presa, Nè mi duol, pur che l’alma mia beltate, Hor, che m’ha vinta, non faccia altra impresa. 15

Voi, che cercando ornar d’alloro il crine Per via di stile, al bel monte poggiate Con quante si fe mai salde pedate, Anime sagge, dotte, e pellegrine; In questo mar, che non ha fondo, ò fine, Le larghe vele innanzi à me spiegate; E gli honori & le gratie ad un cantate Del mio Signor sì rare e sì divine. Perche soggetto si sublime e solo, Senz’ altra aita di felice ingegno Può per se stesso al Cielo alzarci à volo. Io per me sola à dimostrar ne vegno, Quanto l’amo ad ogn’un, quanto lo colo; Ma de le lode sue non giungo al segno.

The Rime only these happy shores will hear me, bathed by Adria’s blessed, shining sea, harbor of my delights, and of my woes. 14

What marvel was it if, at the first assault, I—young and alone—stayed at the pass as Love, armed with his arrows and bow, was poised to wound, aiming now high, now low, while the lord (whom in rhyme I adorn and exalt as much as I can, though my words falter) whose heart’s made of enamel and whose eyes— no, arrows—often do outrage to the sun— hemmed me in at the flanks: how could I offer any possible defense to such lofty virtue and shining nobility? These were the enemies who captured me; nor, as long as that great beauty who vanquished me seeks no new ventures, do I lament. 15

You wise and learned and eloquent souls who seek to deck your brows with laurel and ascend by way of words the lovely hill with steps that never have been firmer,62 in this endless sea that can’t be sounded, unfurl before me your broad sails and sing together of the honors and graces of my lord, who’s so rare and divine, for a subject this singular and sublime can easily fly to heaven on his own without the help of some happy wit. I for myself come to show this alone, how much I love and worship him each hour. As for praising him, the mark I’ll never hit.

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Gaspara Stampa 16

Sì come provo ogn’hor novi diletti Ne l’amor mio, e gioie non usate, E veggio in quell’ angelica beltate Sempre novi miracoli & effetti. Così vorrei haver concetti e detti, E parole à tant’opra appropriate; Sì che fosser da me scritte e cantate, E fatte conte à mille alti intelletti. Et udissero l’altre, che verranno, Con quanta invidia lor sia gita altera De l’amoroso mio felice danno. E vedesse anche la mia gloria vera Quanta i begli occhi suoi luce e forza hanno Di far beata altrui, benche si pera. 17

Io non v’invidio punto Angeli santi Le vostre tante glorie, e tanti beni, E que’ disir di ciò, che braman, pieni; Stando voi sempre à l’alto Sire avanti. Perche i diletti miei son tali, e tanti, Che non posson capire in cor terreni; Mentr’ho davanti i lumi almi, e sereni, Di cui conven, che sempre scriva, e canti. E come in ciel gran refrigerio, e vita, Dal volto suo solete voi fruire Tal’io qua giù da la beltà infinita. In questo sol vincete il mio gioire, Che la vostra è eterna, e stabilita, E la mia gloria può tosto finire. 18

Quando i63 veggio apparir’ il mio bel raggio Parmi veder’ il Sol, quand’esce fora; Quando fà meco poi dolce dimora, Assembra64 il Sol, che faccia suo viaggio.

The Rime 16

Since every hour I learn new delights in love along with joys unusual, ever seeing in that angelic beauty some new pleasure or some new miracle, I’d like to find the saying and conceits, the words to fit the work so I might write them down and sing them, and have a thousand learned intellects take note65 along with all those women who someday will die with envy when they hear how proud I went around, rejoicing in my amorous pain. So may my true glory be to see this: how much light and force his eyes possess to make others blessed, even if they perish. 17

Holy angels, I don’t envy you one bit your many glories and your many gifts, and those desires that are granted in full as you stand, forever, before the great Lord: because my delights are such that by human hearts they can barely be conceived, as long as those calm lights are before me of which it suits me always to write, and sing. And just as you take solace and life itself from his gaze in heaven, so do I, down here below, from that infinite beauty. Only in this does your joy outpace mine: your glory is eternal, unchanging, while mine—too soon will it die. 18

When I first glimpse my lovely ray of light, I seem to see the sun as it comes forth; when he lingers with me in such a sweet stay, he seems the sun as it makes its way.

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Gaspara Stampa E tanta nel cor gioia e vigor’haggio, Tanta ne mostro nel sembiante allora, Quanto l’erba, che piange il Sol’ ancora66 A` mezo giorno nel più vago Maggio. Quando poi parte il mio Sol finalmente Parmi l’altro veder, che scolorita Lasci la terra andando in Occidente. Ma l’altro torna, e rende luce, e vita; E del mio chiaro, e lucido Oriente E`’l tornar dubbio, e certa la partita. 19

Come chi mira in ciel fisso le stelle Sempre qualch’una nova ve ne scorge, Che non più vista pria, fra tanti sorge, Chiari lumi del mondo, alme fiammelle; Mirando fisso l’alte doti, e belle Vostre Signor, di qualch’una s’accorge L’occhio mio nova, che materia porge, Onde di lei si scriva, e si favelle. Ma, sì come non può gli occhi del cielo Tutti, perch’occhio vegga, raccontare Lingua mortal’, e chiusa in human velo, Io posso ben’i vostri honor mirare; Ma la più parte d’essi ascondo, e celo; Perche la lingua à l’opra non è pare. 20

Il bel, che fuor per gli occhi appare, e’l vago Del mio Signor’, e del suo dolce viso, E` tanto e tal, che fa restar conquiso Ogn’un, che’l mira di gran lunga, e pago. Ma, se qual’è un cervier’ occhio, e mago Potesse altri mirar’intento, e fiso Quel, che fuor non si mostra, un Paradiso Di meraviglie vi vedrebbe, un67 lago. E le Donne non pur, ma gli animali, L’erbe, le piante, l’onde, i venti, e i sassi Farian’ arder d’ Amor gli occhi fatali.

The Rime And all the joy and life I have in my heart show themselves then in my features, like a field of grass that the sun paints in day’s fullness during the desiring May. Then when my own sun finally leaves me, I seem to see that other one, faint of color, leaving the earth to travel westward. But that sun comes back, and brings life and light. As for my bright and luminous dawn, his return’s in doubt, his departure sure. 19

Astronomers staring raptly at heavenly stars will always find something there that’s new: unseen before, it bursts forth among the world’s bright lights, fiery and divine. Gazing steadily into those supreme and handsome gifts of yours, my lord, my eye sometimes discerns a new grace that furnishes new matter for writing, and for talk. But just as mortal tongues encased in flesh can hardly tell68 all that the eye sees of those heavenly eyes— I may well look upon your marvels, but the greater part of them I hide, since to the task my tongue is scarcely equal. 20

All that’s fair and beautiful about my lord and his charming face so appeals to the eyes that anyone who looks on him at length remains conquered and quite satisfied. But with the eye of a lynx or enchanter69 and a gaze fixed and intent, you’d see all the things that lie concealed: a paradise can be found within, a lake of wonders. Those fatal eyes make not only women burn with love but also animals and grass and plants, the waves and winds and stones.

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Gaspara Stampa Quest’una gratia à gli occhi miei sol dassi In guiderdon di tanti, e tanti mali Per onde à tanto ben poggiando vassi. 21

S’io, che son Dio, & ho meco tant’armi Non posso star col tuo Signor’ à prova, Et è la sua bellezza unica, e nova Pronta mai sempre à tante ingiurie farmi; Come à tuo prò poss’hora io consigliarmi, E darti il modo, con che tu rimova Quel saldo ghiaccio, che nel cor si trova, 70 Per via di preghi, di consiglio, ò carmi? Ti bisogna aspettar tempo, ò fortuna Che ti guidino à questo; & altra via Non ti posso mostrar se non quest’una.71 Così mi dice, e poi si vola via, Et io mi resto al Sole & à la Luna Piangendo sempre la sventura mia. 22

Rivolgete talhor pietoso gli occhi Da le vostre bellezze à le mie pene; Sì, che quanta alterezza indi vi viene, Tanta quindi pietate il cor vi tocchi. Vedrete qual martir indi mi fiocchi, Vedrete vote le faretre e piene, Che preste a’ danni miei sempre Amor tiene Quando avien, che ver me l’arco suo scocchi. E forse la pietà del mio tormento Vi moverà, dov’hor ne gite altero, Non lo vedendo voi, qual’ io lo sento; Così penosa io meno, e men voi fiero Ritornerete; e cento volte, e cento Benedirete i ciel, che mi vi diero.

The Rime This is the only reward my eyes have known as compensation for so many, many harms, through which they rise up to such great good. 21

“If I, who am a god with an arsenal of weapons,72 can’t bear to duel with your lord— his unique and exceptional looks stand ready, always, to do me such harm— what counsel can I claim to offer you, how can I suggest what you might do to melt that solid ice encased around his heart: perhaps with prayers, or counsel, or with charms? You must wait for time or fortune to guide you in what you seek; there’s no other way that I can show you, just this one.” So Love tells me, then he flies away, and I remain—weeping to moon and sun my great misfortune for all time. 22

Now and then, turn a compassionate eye from your handsome self to my suffering, so that the pity that will touch your heart may match the pride you take in being you. Then you’ll see the pains that strike me so, you’ll see the quiver empty and now filled that Love bears, ever eager for my ills as he wings toward me with his bow. And perhaps your pity for my tormented life will move you as you go about so haughtily and blind to everything I feel; then you’ll come back to me less proud and find me calmer, and one hundred—no, two hundred—times you’ll bless the heavens that gave you to me.

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Gaspara Stampa 23

Gratie, che fate mai sempre soggiorno Ne gli occhi, ch’amo, e quei poi de le prede, Che fan tante di noi, vostra mercede, Fanno il tempio d’ Amor, ricco, & adorno, Quando scherzate à que’ bei rai d’intorno Co’ pargoletti Amor, che v’hanno sede, Fate fede à colui de la mia fede, Che’n tante carte homai celebro, & orno. E, se di gratie havete il nome, e l’opra, Fatemi gratiosi que’ due giri; Ch’à lo splendor del Sol stanno di sopra. E poi c’hanno adescato i miei desiri Fate (così mai morte non li copra) Che non mi lascin preda de’ martiri. 24

Vengan quante fur mai, lingue, & ingegni, Quanti fur stili in prosa, e quanti in versi, E quanti in tempi, e paesi diversi Spirti di riverenza, e d’honor degni. Non fia mai, che descrivan l’ire e sdegni,73 Le noie, e i danni, che’n Amor soffersi; Perche nel vero tanti, e tali fersi, Che passan tutti gli amorosi segni. E non fia anche alcun, che possa dire, Anzi adombrar la schiera de’ diletti, Ch’Amor, la sua mercè, mi fà sentire. Voi, ch’ad amar per gratia sete eletti, Non vi dolete dunque di patire; Perche i martir d’ Amor son benedetti. 25

Trami dico ad Amor talhora, homai Fuor de le man di questo crudo & empio; Che vive del mio danno, e del mio scempio, Per chi arsi, & ardo ancor, canto, e cantai.

The Rime 23

Graces, who will forevermore sojourn in those eyes I love, those eyes that have turned so many of us women into prey and make Love’s temple rich and ornate, when you dance around those handsome rays with Love’s little children, who dwell there too, make known my faith to the man of my faith, who in countless pages I praise and celebrate. And if you’re called the graces and do their work, then make those two orbs gracious to me, for they possess more splendor than the sun. And since they have so seduced my desires (may death never move to close them!), make sure they don’t leave me prey for martyrdom. 24

Let them come forward, all those tongues and wits with their varied styles in prose or verse, from every epoch, from countries diverse, spirits worthy of honor and respect. Not one can recount the wrath and disdain, the troubles and cares of those in love— because in truth too many are known by those who are marked by amorous signs. Nor could a single one ever describe, let alone hint at the wealth of delights74 that Love in his mercy has made me feel. Thus you who have been chosen to love through grace, don’t ever regret that you suffer so, because the trials brought on by love are blessed. 25

Now and then I tell Love, “Take me— out of the hands of that pitiless man, who lives for my shame and pain, and for whom I sing and once sang, burned and still burn.75

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Gaspara Stampa Poi che con tanti miei tormenti e guai Sua fiera voglia ancor non pago, od empio; O` di Diana avaro e crudo tempio, Quando del sangue mio satio sarai?76 Poi torno à me, & del mio dir mi pento, Sì l’ira, il rimembrar pur lui, mi smorza. Che de’ miei non vorrei meno un tormento. Con sì nov’arte & con77 sì nova forza. La bellezza ch’io amo, & ch’io pavento; Ogni senso m’intrica, offusca, e sforza. 26

Arsi, piansi, cantai, piango, ardo, e canto, Piangerò, arderò, canterò sempre, Fin che Morte, ò Fortuna, ò tempo stempre A` l’ingegno, occhi, e cor, stil, foco, e pianto,78 La bellezza, il valor’, e’l senno à canto, Che’n vaghe, sagge, & honorate tempre Amor, Natura, e studio par che tempre Nel volto, petto, e cor del lume santo; Che, quando viene, e quando parte il Sole, La notte, e’l giorno ogn’hor, la state, e’l verno Tenebre, e luce darmi e tormi suole. Tanta79 con l’occhio fuor, con l’occhio interno A gli atti suoi, à i modi, à le parole Splendor, dolcezza, e gratia ivi discerno. 27

Altri mai foco, stral, prigione, ò nodo Si vivo, e acuto, e sì aspra, e sì stretto Non arse impiagò, tenne, e strinse il petto, Quanto’l mi’ ardente, acuto, acerba, e sodo. Nè, qual’ io moro, e nasco, e peno, e godo, Mor’ altra, e nasce, e pena, & ha diletto, Per fermo, e vario, e bello, e crudo aspetto, Che’n voci, e’n carte spesso accuso, e lodo. Nè furo ad altrui mai le gioie care, Quanto è à me,80 quando mi doglio e sfaccio, Mirando à le mie luci hor fosche, hor chiare.

The Rime Why, then, won’t my cries and suffering satisfy his fierce and hungry will? O Diana’s cruel and greedy temple, when of my blood will you have your fill?” Then I come to myself, and repent my words; in wrath there’s remembrance of him—and I’m calmed, and I seek not even one less torment. With such new power and such new art, the beauty that I love and fear darkens and entangles, overpowers every sense. 26

I burned, I wept, I sang; I weep, I burn, I sing, I’ll weep, I’ll burn, I’ll always sing81 (till death or time or fortune dissolve my wit, my eyes and heart, my style, my tears and fire)— his beauty, valor, and wisdom aside, love, nature, and learning seem to have tempered in desirous, wise, and honorable tempers his face, breast, and heart with holy light; for when the sun comes and when it departs, every hour of day or night, summer or winter, he brings and deprives me of shadows and light. As I gaze within him as well as without, in all his acts and words and ways, I find such sweetness and splendor, and grace. 27

Fire this lively, arrows this sharp, prison or knots this bitter and constraining never burned or punctured, confined and tightened any breast as mine: sharp, bitter, firm, and ardent.82 And what I die for and bear, suffer and enjoy, by another woman has never been borne; a face fickle and steady, beautiful and cruel that in speech and on the page I praise and accuse. Nor have others found as dear as I the joys of suffering, whence I grieve and am undone by gazing on those lights now dimmed, now bright.

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Gaspara Stampa Mi dorrà sol, se mi trarrà d’impaccio, Fin che potrò e viver’, & amare, Lo stral’, e’l foco, e la prigione, e’l laccio. 28

Quando innanti à i begli occhi almi, e lucenti Per mia rara ventura al mondo i vegno, Lo stil, la lingua, l’ ardire, e l’ingegno, I pensieri, i concetti, e i sentimenti, O` restan tutti oppressi, ò tutti spenti, E quasi muta, e stupida divegno; O` sia la riverenza, in che li tegno, O` sia, che sono in quel bel lume intenti. Basta, ch’io non sò mai formar parola Sì quel fatale, e mio divino aspetto La forza insieme, e l’anima m’invola. O` mirabil d’ Amore, e raro effetto, Ch’una sol cosa, una bellezza sola Mi dia la vita, e tolga l’ intelletto. 29

Mentr’io conto fra me minutamente Le doti del mio Conte à parte à parte, Nobiltate, bellezza, ingegno, & arte, Che lo fan chiaro sovra l’altra gente, Tale, e tanto piacer l’anima sente, Che, sendo tutte le sue virtù sparte, Mi meraviglio come non si parte, Volando al ciel per starci83 eternamente. E certo v’anderia, se non temesse, Che restasse il suo ben da lei diviso, E men beato il suo stato rendesse. Perche’l suo vero, e proprio Paradiso, Quello, che per bearsi ella si elesse, E`’l mio dolce Signor’, e’l suo bel viso.

The Rime I’ll regret only if I’m drawn from this impasse of the arrow and fire, the prison and noose, while it’s given me still to live and to love. 28

When thanks to good fortune—all too rare in this world— I come before those bright and shining eyes, my style, my tongue, my daring, and my talents, my thoughts, conceits, all sentiments are weighted down or completely spent, and I’m overwhelmed and almost mute: it may be out of reverence for those bright eyes or because upon the light they’re so intent. It’s enough that I don’t know what to say, so fatal the divine self that steals my force together with my soul.84 Rare wonder, one of love’s miracles, that a single thing, this beauty alone, both gives me life and takes all thought away! 29

While one by one I count up each of the gifts of my count85—his nobility, his beauty, his wit and his art, all things that lift him far above all other men— such pleasure knows my soul, absorbed as it is in all his virtues, I can only marvel that it doesn’t leave me, winging away to heaven to reside there for eternity. And certainly it could, were it not that it fears to be divided from its real good and render its heavenly state less blessed; because the true and proper paradise it has chosen for its beatitude is my sweet lord and his lovely face.

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Gaspara Stampa 30

Fra quell’ illustre e nobil compagnia Di gratie, che vi fan Conte immortale, S’erge più d’altra, e vaga stende l’ ale Del canto la dolcissima armonia. Quella in noi ogni acerba cura e ria Può render dolce, e far lieve ogni male; Quella, quand’Euro più fiero l’assale; Può render queto il mar turbato pria. Il giuoco, il riso, Venere, e gli Amori Si veggon l’aere far sereno intorno Ovunque suoni il dolce accento fuori. Et io, potendo far con voi soggiorno, A` l’armonia di quei celesti chori Poco mi curerei di far ritorno. 31

Chi non sà, come dolce il cor si fura, Come dolce s’oblia ogni martire, Come dolce s’acqueta ogni desire; Sì che di nulla più l’alma si cura. Venga, per sua rarissima ventura, Una sol86 volta voi Conte ad udire, Quando solete cantando addolcire La terra, e’l cielo, et ciò, che fè Natura. Al suon vedrà degli amorosi accenti Farsi l’aere sereno, et arrestare L’orgoglio l’acque, le tempeste e i venti. E, visto poi quel che potete fare, Crederà ben, che Tigri, Orsi, e Serpenti Arrestasse anche Orfeo col suo cantare. 32

Per le saette tue Amor ti giuro, E per la tua possente, e sacra face, Che, se ben questa m’arde, e’l cor mi sface, E quelle mi feriscon, non mi curo.

The Rime 30

Among this bright, illustrious company of graces that make you immortal, Count, no one surges upward on her wing more lovely than song, with her harmonies so sweet. Song sweetens for us every bitter, evil care, and lightens all our burdens; when the wind assails most fiercely from the east,87 she renders calm the turbulent seas. Games and laughter, Venus and her loves all gather to make the air around serene whenever sweet accents burst forth in song. And yet if I were granted leave to sojourn with you, I’d care little about returning to the harmonies of this celestial choir. 31

Whoever doesn’t know how sweet it is to lose one’s heart, how sweet to forget all torment, how sweet to have all desires calmed so that the soul no longer cares about itself: let him come for the rare occasion of hearing you, Count, a single time. For your singing sweetens heaven and earth, and everything that nature’s fashioned. At the sound of your amorous accents he’ll see the air turn serene and the storms, the waves and winds arrested in their pride. And once he sees what you can do, he might well believe that Orpheus too could charm tigers, bears, and serpents with his song.88 32

By your arrows, Love, I swear, and by your powerful and sacred torch: if your fire burns me and dissolves my heart and if your arrows wound, I don’t care—

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Gaspara Stampa Quantunque nel passato, e nel futuro Qual l’une acute, e l’altra qual vivace89 Donne amorose, e prendi qual ti piace, Che sentisser giamai nè fian, nè furo. Perche nasce virtù da questa pena, Che’l senso del dolor vince & abbaglia, Sì che ò non duole, ò non si sente appena. Quel, che l’anima e’l corpo mi travaglia, E` la temenza, ch’à morir mi mena, Che’l foco mio non sia foco di paglia. 33

Quando sarete mai satie e satolle Del lungo stratio mio, de le mie pene Luci assai più che’l Sol chiare e serene, C’hora illustrate il vostro amato Colle? Quando fia, che non sia di pianto molle Il petto mio, ch’à gran pena sostiene L’anima fuggitiva; hor, che la spene, Ch’era si poca ancora Amor ne tolle? Quando fia, che vi vegga un di pietose, E duri la pietà vostra, e non manchi Tosto, come le lievi e frali cose? O` non fia, lassa, mai, ò saran bianchi Questi crin prima; e quei sensi amorosi, Accesi hor si, saranno freddi e stanchi. 34

Sai tu, perche ti mise in mano Amore Gli stral tua Madre, & à gli occhi la benda? Per che quella saetti, impiaghi e fenda I cor di questo e quel fido amatore. E con questi non possi90 veder fuori De’ colpi tuoi la crudeltà stupenda; Sì che pietoso affatto non ti renda, O` almen non tempri l’empio tuo furore. Che, se vedessi un dì la piaga mia, O` non saresti Dio, ma cruda fera, O` pietoso, ò men’aspro ti faria.

The Rime never in the past or future, have love-stricken women ever felt, nor will they ever feel, the arrow so acutely, the fire so alive, as I—take whom you will: because from this suffering, virtue is born that dazzles and conquers the wrenching pain so that I don’t notice it—or just barely. What troubles my body and soul instead, what leads me to death, is fear that my fire feeds only on straw, and is easily quenched. 33

When will you ever have enough of my drawn-out torture, my endless pains— when, you lights,91 that even the sun outshine, as you illuminate your beloved hill? When will my breast no longer be softened by tears, as it struggles to harbor within this fugitive heart—now that hope, always so rare, has been snatched away by Love? When might one day find you compassionate— pity that endures rather than vanishing so quickly, like all light, frail things? Either—alas—such hopes will never come to pass, or these hairs will be white and my desires, now inflamed, will have turned cold and tired. 34

Do you know, Love, why your mother put arrows in your hand, and a blindfold on your eyes?92 With the one, so you might pierce and wound the hearts of faithful lovers, and to render you blind with the other to the stupendous cruelty of your blows— and incapable of pity, or at least so you couldn’t temper your impious furor. For if one day you saw my wound, either the sight would move you and make you less fierce, or you’d show yourself not a god, but cruel beast.

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Gaspara Stampa Non vorrei già, che tu vedessi in ciera I raggi del mio Sol; che ti parria Forse à l’incontro picciola e leggiera. 35

Accogliete benigni ò Colle, ò fiume, Albergo de le Gratie alme e d’ Amore, Quella, ch’arde del vostro alto Signore, E vive sol de’ raggi del suo lume; E se fate, ch’amando si consume Men’ aspramente il mio infiammato core; Pregherò, che vi sieno amiche l’ore, Ogni Ninfa silvestre, et ogni Nume. E lascerò scolpito93 in qualche scorza La memoria di tanta cortesia, Quando di lasciar voi mi sarà forza. Ma, lassa, io sento, che la fiamma mia, Che devrebbe scemar, più si rinforza E più ch’altrove qui s’ama e disia. 36

Cesare, e Ciro i vostri fidi spegli, In cui mai sempre Signor vi mirate, Poi ch’à seguir le lor chiare pedate, Par, che ciascun di lor v’infiammi e svegli. Perche, sì come è stato questi e quegli Essempio di clementia e di pietate, Solo in questa94 virtù v’ allontanate Da que’ due chiari & honorati vegli? Perche non sete voi mite, e clemente À me vostra prigion, vostra fattura, Come fur’essi à l’acquistata gente? Anzi forse voi sete di natura Mite con tutti, e meco solamente D’aspra e spietata; ò mia somma sventura.

The Rime And yet: I wouldn’t want you to see the splendid rays of my sun, for then the wounds I bear might strike you as superficial and small. 35

O kindly hill and river, dwelling place of Love and the divine Graces, welcome this woman who is burning for your lord and lives solely off his lights’ rays;95 if you can make my inflamed heart consume itself less harshly in its love, I’ll implore the winds to be your friends along with every woodland nymph and god, and when I’m finally forced to leave you, into the trunks of trees I’ll carve the remembrance of your courtesies. But alas: I sense that my fire, which should diminish here, grows stronger, and more than elsewhere I’m prone to desire. 36

If your faithful mirrors are Caesar and Cyrus in whom you’ve always seen yourself, my lord, and who it seems both rouse and inflame you to follow in their shining footsteps:96 why, then, since one and the other stand forth as examples of mercy and pity, do you choose in this virtue alone to distance yourself from these well-known ancients? Why are you not clement and tender to me, your prisoner, your own creation, as they were to the people they conquered? And yet it may be that you are by nature kind to all, to me alone pitiless and harsh. How great, then, my misfortune!

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Gaspara Stampa 37

Altero nido, ove’l mio vivo Sole Prese da prima il suo terreno incarco; Onde però và piu leggiero e scarco Di quel, che da tutt’ altri andar si suole; I vorrei dir, ma non so far parole Di tante97 e tanti pregi, onde sei carco; Perche lo stil à l’alta impresa è parco; E via98 piu à chi t’honora entro e ti cole. Perciò mi taccio; e prego ’l ciel, che sempre Ti serbi in questo lieto e vago stato, In queste care, e gratiose tempre. E renda ogn’hor piu chiaro e piu lodato Il tuo Signor’ e mio; e ch’i mi99 stempre Sempre nel mio bel foco alto e pregiato. 38

Qualunque dal100 mio petto esce sospiro, Ch’escono adhor adhor’ ardenti e spessi Dal dì, che per mio Sole gli occhi elessi, Ch’à prima vista à morte mi feriro. Vanno verso il bel Colle, ove pur miro, Benche lontana, & vanno anche con essi I miei pensieri, e tutti i sensi stessi; Nè val, s’io li ritengo, ò li ritiro. Perche la propria loro e vera stanza Son que’ begli occhi, e quella alma beltade, Che prima mi destar la disianza. O` pur sieno ivi accolti da pietade, Di che non spero poi, che per usanza Vi suol sempre haver luogo crudeltade. 39

Se con tutto il mio studio, e tutta l’arte Io non posso accennar pur quanto, e quale E`’l foco mio dal dì, che’l primo strale M’aventò Amor ne la sinistra parte.

The Rime 37

Proud nest101 where my living sun first assumed his earthly burden—in which he goes about more lightly, more unencumbered than any others who so travel; I’d like to praise you for the many merits with which you are endowed, but have no words; before that noble task, my style is spare, and yields to one who honors and reveres you more. So I fall silent: and ask that heaven always preserve you in this lovely, pleasant state that’s tempered in such dear and graceful ways; and may your lord and mine bestow on you more worth and fame each hour, as I melt away forever in my exalted, precious flame. 38

Whenever sighs issue from my heart as they do so often, now burning, now spent, ever since the day I chose as my sun those eyes that at first glance wounded me to the death, off they go toward the hill on which I gaze— no matter that it’s far away—along with all my thoughts and feelings; no use restraining them or calling them back, because their only true and proper home102 is those handsome eyes and that divine beauty that first awakened my desire. Oh, if they could just be met with pity! A thing I don’t dare hope for, since I’m used to finding there only cruelty. 39

If with all my study and all my art I can’t even hint at the force of the flame that’s been mine from the day that Love first sent an arrow in to wound my heart,

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Gaspara Stampa Come volete voi Signor, che ex parte103 L’altrui voglie amorose e l’altrui male Con questa forza stanca, e così frale I dica in vive voci, ò scriva in carte? Datemi ò’l ciel più stile, ò voi men pena, Ond’habbia ò più vigor’, ò men martire; Sì che la vostra voglia resti piena. E, se ciò non si può, vostro disire Adempiete da voi, c’havete vena, Stile, & ingegno eguale al vostro dire. 40

Onde, che questo mar turbate spesso, Come turba anco104 me la gelosia; Venite à starvi meco in compagnia, Poi che mi sete si care e sì presso. Così fier’ Austro & Aquilon con esso Men’importuno, e men crudo vi sia, Così triegua talhor’ Eolo vi dia, Quel, ch’à me da l’amor non m’è105 concesso. Lassa, ch’io ho da pianger tanto e tanto, Che l’humor, che per gli occhi verso fore, E` poco, ò nulla, se fosse altrettanto. Voi mi darete voi del vostro humore, Quanto mi basti à disfogar’ il pianto, Che si conviene à l’alto mio dolore. 41

Ahi, se così vi distrignesse il laccio, Come misera me strigne106 & affrena; Non cerchereste d’una in altra pena Girmi traendo, e d’uno in altro impaccio. Ma, perch’io son di foco, e voi di ghiaccio; Voi sete in libertate, et io’n catena; I son di stanca, e voi107 di franca lena; Voi vivete contento, et io mi sfaccio. Voi mi ponete leggi, ch’à portarle Non basterian le spalle di Milone; Non ch’io debile e fral possa osservarle.

The Rime how then, lord, can you expect another part of me to tell in lively words, or write on the page the amorous desires and grief of others, when my force is so tired and so frail? Oh, heaven, grant me more skill or you less heartache, so I may find more strength or know less sorrow—then your wish can be fulfilled. And if neither thing can happen? Then do it yourself, for you have talent, style, and a wit that’s equal to your words.108 40

Waves that often make this sea109 so turbulent, just like the jealousy disturbing me, come, and offer me your company, since you’re so dear to me, and so nearby; thus may fierce winds be less importunate from the north and south and less cruel to you; may god Eolus sometimes give you peace— a gift that to me love has never granted.110 I have so much to cry about, alas, so much that these tears coursing from my eyes can do little or nothing, if even that. So you’ll give me, waves, your waters—find just enough so I can unleash my sobs in ways befitting a sorrow as deep as mine. 41

Ah, if only you were bound by the noose that constrains and tightens and makes me wretched: you’d no longer try to drag me from one torment and one impasse to a second.111 But because I’m made of fire, and you of ice, you find yourself free and I’m oppressed, I’m exhausted and you’re full of vigor, you live in peace and I’m near death,112 you give me laws that Milo’s shoulders113 wouldn’t be enough to carry; how can I, so frail and weak, observe them?

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Gaspara Stampa Seguite, poi che’l ciel cosi dispone; Forse, ch’un giorno Amor potria mutarle’;114 Forse, ch’un di farà la mia ragione. 42

Tu pur mi promettesti amica pace Amor’ il dì, che tua serva divenni, Mostrandomi i begli occhi, i guardi, e i cenni, Ove tua Madre alberga e si compiace. Et hor quasi Signor’ empio e fallace, Poi ch’una volta il tuo giogo sostenni; Adhor’ adhor nove saette impenni, Et accendi una, & hor’un’altra face. E mi trafigi, e mi consumi il core, Col mezo de l’ orgoglio di colui, Che tanto gode, quanto altri si more. Così misera me tradita fui Giovane incauta sotto fè d’ Amore; E doler mi vorrei, nè so di cui. 43

Dura è la stella mia, maggior durezza E` quella del mio Conte; egli mi fugge, I seguo lui; altri per me si strugge, I non posso mirar’ altra bellezza. Odio chi m’ama, & amo chi mi sprezza. Verso chi m’è humile il mio cor rugge; I son’115 humil con chi mia speme adhugge; A` cosi stranio116 cibo ho l’alma avezza. Egli ogn’hor dà cagione à novo sdegno, Essi mi cercan dar conforto e pace, I lasso questi, & à quell’un m’ attegno. Così ne la tua scola Amor si face Sempre il contrario di quel, ch’egli è degno; L’humil si sprezza, e l’empio si compiace.

The Rime So go on doing what heaven has ordained; perhaps one day Love will think to change his rules, perhaps one day he’ll prove me right. 42

Love, you promised me a friendly peace the very day that I became your servant, showing me those pretty eyes, those looks and gestures where to make herself a home your mother’s pleased.117 And like some faithless, wicked lord whose yoke I now endure a second time, you impale me with new arrows, and now light one and then another torch; and so my heart you transfix and consume by means of a man whose pride is so great that he’s happiest when others die. And so I was betrayed! Poor me, a heedless girl who trusted Love’s good faith; I want so to complain, and yet of whom? 43

My destiny is harsh, but harsher still is that of my lord: I follow him, he flees; other men consume themselves for me, while I can’t look on any other beauty. I hate the man who loves me, love him who scorns me;118 my heart protests the man who’s meek, while I submit to him who dampens hope: to such unusual tastes my soul is suited. For him, all I do’s a cause for new disdain; others try to comfort me and bring me peace; I leave them and attach myself to him. Love, this is how things happen in your school, so contrary to what seems fitting: the humble are despised, the cruel rewarded.

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Gaspara Stampa 44

Se tu vedessi ò Madre de gli Amori, E teco insieme il tuo figlio diletto, L’accese e vive fiamme del mio petto, A` quali altre fur mai pari, ò maggiori; Se tu vedessi i pelaghi d’humore,119 Che, dapoi che’l mio cor ti fu soggetto, Mercè del vago e gratioso aspetto, Per questi occhi dolenti verso fuore. Sò, c’havresti pietà del mio gran pianto, E de la fiamma mia spietata e ria, Che per sfogar talhor descrivo e canto. Ma voi ferite, e poi fuggite via Più che folgor veloci, & io fra tanto.120 Resto col pianto e con la fiamma mia. 45

Io vo pur descrivendo d’hora in hora La beltà vostra, e’l vostro raro ingegno, E’l valor d’altro stil, che del mio, degno, Se non quant’ei più d’altro mai v’honora. Nè, perch’io m’affatichi giungo ancora Di tanti pregi vostri al minor segno, Conte d’ogni virtù nido e sostegno, Senza cui la mia vita morte fora. Così, s’io prendo à scriver’ il mio foco E121 tanto e tal, da ch’egli da voi nasce, Che, s’io ne dico assai, ne dico poco. Questo e quello il mio cor nutrisce e pasce, E questo e quel mi dà martir’ e gioco; Così fui destinata entro le fasce. 46

Alto Colle, almo fiume, ove soggiorno Fan le Virtuti, e le Gratie, e gli Amori Dal dì, che dimostraste al mondo fore122 Chi fà me, chi fa lui chiaro & adorno.

The Rime 44

Mother of all loves, if you along with your beloved son could see the living, raging flame within my breast, which no other fire equals or exceeds, if you could see the deep sea of my tears these sorrowful eyes have poured forth, ever since my heart was subject to you both, thanks to that charming, graceful bearing, I know that you’d have pity on my tears and this my pitiless and evil flame that I sometimes vent in song and writing. But first you strike; and then more swiftly than a lightning bolt, take flight; and I remain with only this, my tears and flame.123 45

Hour after hour, I go about describing you124—your beauty and uncommon wit, and merits worthy of a better style than mine, though none will ever honor you as I. Though I exhaust myself, I’ll never give the slightest indication of your worth, my Count—you, in whom all virtues live,125 and without whom death would be my life. So my fire that incites to write is one thing, but that born from you another; in speaking of you so much, I say so little. Yet your flame and mine alike nurture my heart, they bring me joy and martyrdom: so I fulfill what’s been my destiny since the cradle. 46

High hill126 and blessed river, where the virtues, all the Graces, and love’s servants gather ever since you showed to the world the man who makes himself—and me—renowned and lovely:

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Gaspara Stampa Asserena tu’l fronte,127 alza tu’l corno, Tu con nove acque, e tu con novi fiori, Hor, che fà colmo anch’ei di novi honori. Il Signor vostro, e mio à voi ritorno.128 E, poi che fia con voi, per cortesia Oprate sì, ch’à me ritorni tosto, Che viver senza lui poco poria. Così stia’l verno à voi sempre discosto, Così Flora, e Pomona in compagnia Vi faccian sempre Aprile, e sempre Agosto. 47

Io son da l’aspettar’129 homai sì stanca, Sì vinta dal dolor’, e dal disio, Per la sì poca fede, e molto oblio Di chi del suo tornar, lassa, mi manca. Che lei, che’l mondo impalidisce e’mbianca Con la sua falce, e dà l’ultimo fio, Chiamo talhor per refrigerio mio, Sì’l dolor nel mio petto si rinfranca. Et ella si fà sorda al mio chiamare, Schernendo i miei pensier fallaci e folli, Come stà sordo anch’egli al suo tornare. Così col pianto, ond’ho gli occhi miei molli, Fò pietose quest’onde e questo mare; Et ei si vive lieto ne’ suoi colli. 48

Come l’augel, ch’à Febo è grato tanto Sovra Meandro, ove suol far soggiorno, Quando s’accosta il suo ultimo giorno; Move più dolci le querele, e’l canto. Tal’io, lontana dal bel viso santo Sovra il superbo d’ Adria e ricco corno, Morte, tema, & horror’ havendo intorno, Affino, lassa, le querele, e’l pianto. E sono in questo à quell’ uccel minore, Che per quella, onde venne istessa traccia Ritorna à Febo il suo diletto Olore.

The Rime hill, deck your brow in fresh new flowers, river, raise your horn with sparkling waters now that your lord and mine, who’s brimming over with new honors, makes his return to you. And now that you have him, for pity’s sake, work things out so he comes back to me— for to live without him any longer I can’t. So may winter always dwell far from you, may together Flora and Pomona grant you Aprils and Augusts that last forever.130 47

I am by now so weary of waiting, so beaten down by grief and desire,131 by the little faith and great forgetfulness of the man whose return—alas—fails me, that I cry out to the one who turns the world’s lovely pallor to chalk, as she wields her scythe and intones the last sentence so that she might embolden my heart’s grief. Yet Death closes her ears to my voice and scorns my thoughts as deceptive and crazy, just as he too is deaf to his return. With this lament that makes my eyes moist, I move the sea and its waves to pity, while he lives happily in his high hills. 48

Just as the swan so dear to Phoebus sings its sweetest lays as it approaches death, soaring above the Meander where it’s used to making its accustomed stay,132 so I, far from that holy, beautiful face, hone, alas, my own quarrels and plaint above the rich, proud horn of the Adriatic where all around me reeks of fear and death. But in this to the swan133 I’m inferior as it follows its usual path in returning to Phoebus, by whom it is beloved:

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Gaspara Stampa Et io, perche morendo mi disfaccia Non pur non torno à star col mio Signore, Ma temo, che di me tutto gli spiaccia. 49

Qual sempre a’ miei disir contraria sorte Fra la spiga e la man mi s’è tramessa; Sì che la gioia, che mi fu promessa Tarda tanto à venir per darmi morte? Le mie due vive, due fidate scorte, Il Signor mio, anzi l’anima stessa; L’imagin, che nel cor m’è sempre impressa, Perche non batte homai, lassa, à le porte? L’alma allargata à questa nova speme, Che ristretta nel duol prendea vigore, Mancherà tosto certo se non viene. E saran de’ miracoli d’ Amore; Ch’un’ombra breve di sperato bene Tolga altrui vita, e dia vita il dolore. 50

Poi ch’Amor mi ferì di crude ponte, Vostra mercè, qual sete vivo e vero, V’ho scolpito nel fronte, e nel pensiero, Sì che nessun sembiante più s’affronte. Il viso stesso, il proprio stesso fronte, Il proprio ciglio humilemente altero; Gli occhi stessi, i due Sol de l’Emispero; L’istesse gratie, e le fattezze conte. In questo il mio ritratto è dissimile, Che, qual mi sete, vi mostra alteretto, Là dove sete à tutti gli altri humile; Hora per far, ch’anch’io v’habbia perfetto, Per far, ch’anch’io pur v’habbia à voi simile, Emendate anche meco un tal difetto.

The Rime undone by dying, not only can I not return to linger with my lord, but I fear that everything about me is displeasing. 49

Contrary to my desires, what fate intrudes between my hand and the grain it plucks134—so the joy that was promised me comes so late that it brings me only death? My two faithful, my two living guides, my very soul itself, my lord whose image is impressed forever on my heart:135 why won’t he beat down, alas, these gates? Expanded by new hope, my heart constrained by grief was starting to revive, but won’t survive if he’s not with me. One of love’s miracles is surely this: the brief shadow of a hoped-for good takes life away and grief enlivens. 50

After Love wounded me with his cruel arrows on your account, I sculpted you in my mind and in my thoughts just as you live and breathe, and no other semblance is more like you: your very countenance, your very face, that very brow so humbly proud, your very eyes, the hemisphere’s two suns, your charms and all the things that make you count.136 But in this my portrait is dissimilar: for when you’re with me, you’re a trifle haughty, while with others you’re so humble. Now so that I have the you that’s perfect, to ensure my image is just like yourself, alter when you’re with me such a defect.

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Gaspara Stampa 51 1 3 7

Vieni Amor’ à veder la gloria mia, E poi la tua, che l’opra de’ tuoi strali Ha fatto ambeduo138 noi chiari immortali; Ovunque per Amor s’ama e disia. Chiara fe me; perche non fui restia Ad accettar’ i tuoi colpi mortali, Essendo gli occhi, onde fui presa, quali Natura non fè mai poscia, nè pria. Chiaro fe te; perche139 à lodarti vegno Quanto più posso in rime & in parole Con quella, che m’hai dato, vena140 e ingegno. Hor’ à te si convien far, che quel141 Sole, Che mi desti per guida, e per sostegno, Non lassi oscure queste luci, e sole. 52

Beate luci, hor se mi fate guerra Voi, donde può venir sol la mia pace; Se’l viver mio à voi luci alme spiace, E la mia vita in voi solo si serra; Mi converrà, e chi no’l crede s’erra,142 O` viver sempre in guerra aspra e tenace, O` tosto tosto l’anima fugace, Lasciato il corpo, se n’andrà sotterra. E così rimarrete senza poi Soggetto, ove possiate essercitare La crudeltate vostra, Amor’, & voi; Io ne verrò al fine à guadagnare, Che, morend’un senza peccati suoi, Felicemente suol’ al ciel poggiare. 53

Se d’arder’ e d’amar’ io non mi stanco, Anzi crescermi ogn’hor questo e quel sento, E di questo e di quello io non mi pento, Come Amor sà, che mi stà sempre al fianco.

The Rime 51

Come, Love, and watch my triumph143— it’s yours too, because your arrows’ work has made us both immortal, wherever Love makes one desire and desired. Famous you made me for I was not averse to taking on your mortal blows, those eyes that nature’s never made before or since—that’s how I was captured. Famous you make yourself, because I praise you all I can in rhymes and words with what you’ve given me: my wit and talent. Now do this: make sure my guide and sustenance, the sun that you’ve awakened, does not leave my own two lights lonely and obscured. 52

Blessed lights, now that you make war on me— you, from whom alone can come my peace— if, lights divine, my life displeases you, a life that finds its home in you alone, then I’m doomed to fight a harsh and bitter war (and who does not think so is deceived), or else my fugitive soul will flee its body—quickly—to go beneath the ground. But then you’ll be left without a subject over whom you and Love could exercise your cruelty, the two of you— and I’ll have everything to gain: for one who dies without sin usually flies quite happily to rest in heaven. 53

If I don’t tire soon of fire and love— rather, I feel them increase by the hour, and I’m far from repenting one or the other, as Love knows, who’s always here beside me—

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Gaspara Stampa Onde avien, che la speme ogn’hor vien manco; Da me sparendo come nebbia al vento, La speme, che’l mio cor può far contento, Senza cui non si vive, e non vissi anco? Nel mezo del mio cor spesso mi dice Un’incognita tema,144 ò miserella Non fia’l145 tuo stato gran tempo felice; Che fra non molto potria sparir quella Luce de gli occhi tuoi vera beatrice, Et ogni gioia tua sparir con ella. 54

Se non temprasse il foco del mio còre L’humor, che verso per gli occhi sì spesso; Io havrei visto già di Morte il messo, E l’alma ad’ubidirla uscita fore. Perche la speme homai cede146 al timore, Et ogni cosa mia soggiace ad esso; Poi che si vede à mille segni espresso, Che chi può farlo vuole il mio dolore. Dunque, s’io vivo, è mercè del mio pianto, S’io moro, è colpa de le crude voglie Del mio Signor, in vista dolce tanto. E i147 mi legò, sì ch’ altri non mi scioglie; E i vuol’haver de la mia morte il vanto; O` poco chiare & honorate spoglie. 55

Voi, che’n marmi, in colori, in bronzo, in cera Imitate, & vincete la Natura, Formando questa, e quell’ altra figura, Che poi somigli à la sua forma vera, Venite tutti in gratiosa schiera A` formar la più bella creatura, Che facesse giamai la prima cura, Poi che con le sue man fè la primiera. Ritraggete il mio Conte; e siavi à mente Qual’è dentro ritrarlo, e qual’è fore; Sì che à tanta opra non manchi niente.

The Rime then why does my hope keep slipping away like mist driven by the wind, each day, hope alone that can make my heart content and without which none survives —and I’m no different. In the midst of my heart there often sounds an unknown theme: “O wretched girl, it may be that your happy state won’t last, for the true bearer of your blessedness,148 the light of your eyes, will soon disappear, and every joy of yours will vanish with him.” 54

If my heart’s fire weren’t tempered by tears that pour forth so often from my eyes, I’d already have seen death’s messenger lead forth my soul, quick to obey him; for hope now yields to fear, and every inch of me is powerless before him; you can see from a thousand different signs that he who can make me suffer will do it. Thus if I live, it’s thanks to my tears; if I die, at fault’s my lord’s cruel desires, the man who seems in looks to be so sweet. He’s bound me so others can’t untie me, he alone wants to boast of my demise. Oh, nameless and unworthy spoils! 55

You who with paints and marble, wax and bronze,149 imitate and even defeat nature, forming now this, now that other figure, so they resemble their own true form, gather together in gracious array to make the world’s most beautiful creature— not since First Care fashioned with his hands the first being150 has anything like him been made. Portray my count,151 and don’t forget to show what lies within him, what without, so that your work is lacking in nothing.

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Gaspara Stampa Fategli solamente doppio il core, Come vedrete, ch’egli ha veramente, Il suo, e’l mio, che gli ha donato Amore. 56

Ritraggete poi me da l’altra parte, Come vedrete, ch’io sono in effetto; Viva senz’alma, e senza cor nel petto, Per miracol d’ Amor raro, & nov’arte. Quasi nave, che vada senza sarte, Senza timon, senza vele, e trinchetto; Mirando sempre al lume benedetto De la sua Tramontana ovunque parte. Et avertite, che sia’l mio sembiante Da la parte sinistra afflitto e mesto; E da la destra allegro, e trionfante. Il mio stato felice vuol dir questo; Hor, che mi trovo il mio Signor davante, Quello il timor, che sarà d’altra presto. 57

A` che Signor’ affaticar’ in vano, Per ritrarvi e scolpirvi in marmi, ò in carte O` gli altri, c’hanno fama di quest’ arte, O’l chiaro Buonaroti, ò Titiano? Se scolpito qual sete aperto e piano V’ho nel petto, e nel fronte à parte à parte, Sì che l’imagin d’indi unqua non parte, Perche siate voi presso, ò pur lontano.152 Ma forse voi volete esser ritratto In sembiante leale e gratioso, Qual sete à tutti in ogn’opra, in ogn’atto. Dove, lassa, ch’ à pena dirvel’oso, Vi porto impresso, qual vi provo in fatto, Un pochetto incostante e disdegnoso.

The Rime Just be sure to give him a double heart, for as you’ll see, he really has two, his own and mine—a gift Love gave him. 56

There on the other side,153 you must portray me too, just as you see me, as I am in truth: alive without a soul, my breast without a heart through a rare miracle of love and new art, like some ship that sails without its ropes or rudder, without its foremast and sails, aiming always for that blessed light of his northern star,154 wherever it travels. And make sure that from the left I convey a countenance that’s sad and troubled, while on the right, I’m bright and triumphant. Such happiness shows me as I am today, with my lord before me; such dread speaks to the fear that he’ll soon be another’s. 57

Why, lord, do they wear themselves out in vain, painting and sculpting you on marble and paper— splendid Buonarroti and Titian,155 and all the others who in their art have gained fame— when I’ve sculpted you just as you are, openly, plainly, on every inch of my heart and my mind, so your image will never part, no matter whether you’re near or far? But perhaps it’s because you’d like to be seen as loyal and gracious, which is how you seem when with others, in all your acts and gestures. Whereas, alas, I can hardly dare tell you: I carry you around just as I find you— a little inconstant and disdainful.

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Gaspara Stampa 58

Deh, perche non ho io l’ingegno e l’arte Di Lisippo e d’ Apelle, onde potessi Il viso, che per Sole al mondo elessi, Dipinger’e scolpir in qualche parte? Poi che non posso ben ritrarr’in carte, Com’havrian con lo stile ritratto essi, Le mie due stelle; la cui luce impressi Pria sì nel cor, che d’indi non si parte.156 Perch’io rimarrei sol con un tormento D’amar’e sospirar, e’l cor saria D’ogni altra cura poi pago e contento; Dov’hor piango l’acerba pena mia; E piango, ch’atta a pianger157 non mi sento, Al mondo il mio bel Sol quanto devria. 59

Quelle lagrime calde, e quei sospiri, Che vedete, ch’io spargo si cocenti, Da poter’ arrestar’ il mar co’ venti Quando avien, ch’ei più frema, e più s’adiri, Come potete voi, co i vostri giri Rimirar non pur queti, ma contenti? O` cor di fere Tigri, e di Serpenti, Che vive sol de’ duri miei martiri; Deh prolungate almen per alcun’hore Questa vostra ostinata dipartita, Fin, che m’usi à portar tanto dolore; Perciò ch’à così subita sparita Io potrei de la vita restar fuore, Sol, per servir’ à voi, da me gradita. 60

Quinci Amor, quindi cruda empia Fortuna M’affliggon sì, che non so, com’io possa, Riparar questa e quell’altra percossa, Che mi danno à vicenda hor l’altra,158 hor l’ una.

The Rime 58

Ah, why do I lack the talents and art of Lisippus and Apelles,159 so I could paint and sculpt like them in various places that face which I’ve chosen to be my sun? Why can’t I portray my two stars on the page160 as well as they who are skilled in such ways— those stars whose light has been so impressed onto my heart that it will never depart? For then I’d be left with one torment alone, to love and to sigh, while my heart in every other way would be content and satisfied. So now I weep in bitter pain, and weep that I’m not fit to paint my beautiful sun for the world as I should. 59

Those hot tears and those sighs that you see me expelling so forcefully they could bring the storm-tossed sea to a sudden halt when it’s at its wildest and most violent: how can you stand to watch me, with eyes not merely calm but contented? You must have a heart of fierce tigers or serpents to survive on my harsh sufferings alone! Ah, at least delay by an hour or two your going forth, on which you so insist, so I can accustom myself to new heartbreak,161 because your sudden disappearance could take from me my life, which I cherish only insofar as it can serve you. 60

On this side, Love, on that, cruel, wicked Fortune afflict me so, I don’t know how to defend myself from the blows now this one, now the other take turns in giving me.

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Gaspara Stampa Aer, mar, terra, ciel, Sol, stelle, e Luna Con quant’ha più ciascuna orgoglio e possa; A` danno mio, à mia ruina mossa, Lassa, mi si mostrò fin da la cuna. E quel, ch’è sol’il mio fido sostegno. Per accrescermi duol, fra sì brev’hora Partirassi da me senza ritegno. Almen venisse acerba Morte ancora, Mentr’io dolente mi lamento e sdegno; Da le man di tant’hoste à trarmi fora. 61

Chi mi darà soccorso à l’hora estrema, Che verrà Morte à trarmi fuor di vita Tosto, dopo l’acerba dipartita, Onde fin d’hora il cor paventa e trema? Madre e sorella nò; perche la tema, Questa è quella162 à dolersi meco invita; E poi per prova homai la lor’ aita Non giova à questa doglia alta e suprema. E le vostre fidate amiche scorte, Che di giovarmi havriano sole il come Saran lontane in quella altera corte. Dunque i porrò queste terrene some Senza conforto alcun, se non di Morte, Sospirando, e chiamando il vostro nome. 62

Hor, che torna la dolce Primavera A` tutto il mondo, à me sola si parte; E và da noi lontana in quella parte, Ov’è del Sol più fredda assai la sfera. E que’ vermigli e bianchi fior, che’n schiera Amor nel viso di sua man comparte Del mio Signor, del gran figlio di Marte; Daranno à gli occhi miei l’ultima sera. E fioriranno à gente, ove non fia Chi spiri, e viva sol del lor’ odore, Come fà la penosa vita mia.

The Rime 163

Air, sea, earth, heaven, sun, stars, and moon: how much power and pride have moved each one to ensure my ruin and cause me harm, alas, has all been clear to me since the cradle. And he who alone is my faithful support won’t hesitate to augment my sorrow and at a moment’s notice leave me. At least may bitter death come now to draw me from the reach of such an army while I, grief-stricken, cry and rage. 61

Who will bring me help in my final hour when Death will come to claim me on the heels of this bitter departure—my heart trembles even now, afraid to think on it? Certainly not my mother or sister: the one fears just this; the other summons me to grieve with her;164 and their help has no force to touch this great and raging sorrow. And those friendly faithful guides of yours that alone have the means to bring me joy will be dwelling far away in that proud court.165 Thus I’ll dispose of this earthly burden— no comfort in sight but that of death, sighing and calling out your name. 62

Just as sweet spring returns to all the world, it flees from me alone, traveling to parts far from us, where the sphere of the sun shows the world his coldest side. And that fleet of white and vermillion flowers the hand of Love scatters on the face of my lord, great son of Mars,166 will give to my eyes their final evening and go off to flower forth for people where no one lives and breathes on their perfume alone—as I do in this distressing life.

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Gaspara Stampa O` troppo iniquo, e troppo ingiusto Amore A` comportar, che de gli amanti stia Sì lontano l’un l’altro il corpo, e’l core. 63

Questo poco di tempo, che m’è dato, Anzi di vita avanti il partir vostro. Voi devreste ò del mondo unico monstro Essermi pur’ adhor adhor’ à lato. Accio che poi, essendo dilungato Dal felice, e natio terreno nostro, Prenda vigor dal vago avorio & ostro Il mio poi senza voi misero stato. Perche, se vi partite, & io non prenda Prima vigor da voi, converrà certo, Ch’à morte l’alma subito si renda. E, dove al monte faticoso & erto D’honor poggiate, temo non offenda Questa macchia il candor del vostro merto. 64

Voi, che novellamente Donne entrate In questo pien di tema, e pien d’ errore, Largo e profondo pelago d’ Amore, Ove già tante navi son spezzate. Siate accorte, e tant’oltra non passate, Che non possiate infine uscirne fore, Nè fidate in bonaccie, o’n second’ore; Che come à me, vi fian tosto cangiate. Sia dal mio essempio il vostro legno scorto, Cui ria fortuna allor diede di piglio, Che più sperai esser vicina al porto. Sovra tutto vi dò questo consiglio. Prendete amanti nobili; e conforto Questo vi fia in ogni aspro periglio.

The Rime O Love, you’re too unjust and too unkind to sanction this: that lovers dwell so far away from one another, in body and in heart. 63

This little bit of time—rather of life itself— that’s given me before you go, you marvel of the world, you must spend it all constantly by my side, so that before you’re torn away from this happy, natal land of ours, my being, miserable in your absence, may come alive from your vibrant presence.167 For if you go before I’ve first snatched life from you, my soul is almost certain to render itself up to sudden death. And I wouldn’t want my end to stain the pure splendor of your virtues, found there on the mountaintop you’ve labored so to gain.168 64

You women who have recently embarked upon these waters full of treachery and full of error, Love’s deep and boundless sea where so many ships have been snapped in two, beware! And don’t go out too far,169 or you’ll lose your chance of ever escaping; don’t trust in calm waters or favorable winds that change course so quickly, as happened to me. May your little boat learn from mine: for I was pitched onto the reefs by evil fortune just when I had high hopes of reaching port. Above all, let me offer some advice: find for yourselves noble lovers, and in every bitter danger this comfort should suffice.

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Gaspara Stampa 65

Deh, se vi fu giamai dolce e soave La vostra fidelissima Anassilla, Mentre serrata sì, che nullo aprilla, Teneste dal170 suo cor Conte la chiave, Leggendo in queste carte il lungo e grave Pianto, à cui171 Amor per voi lassa sortilla Mostrar’ almen di pièta, una scintilla In premio di sua fe non vi sia grave. Accompagnate almen con un sospiro La schiera immensa de’ sospiri suoi, Che mille volte i ciel pietosi udiro. Così sia sempre Amor benigno à voi, Quanto à lei fu per voi spietato e diro; Così non sia mai cosa, che v’annoi. 66

Ricevete cortesi i miei lamenti, E portateli fide al mio Signore O` di Francia beate e felici ore, Che godete hor de’ begli occhi lucenti. E ditegli con tristi e mesti accenti, Che, s’ei non move à dar soccorso al core, O` tornando, ò scrivendo, fra poche hore Resteran gli occhi miei di luce spenti;172 Perche le pene mie molte & estreme, Per questa assentia homai son giunte in parte, Dove di morte sol si pensa e teme. E s’egli avien, che’ndarno restin sparte Dinanzi à lui le mie voci supreme, Al mio scampo non ho più schermo, od arte. 67

Chi porterà le mie giuste querele Al mio Signor’ al gran Re Franco appresso, D’ogni rara eccellenza essempio espresso, E fuor, ch’à me à tutti altri fedele?

The Rime 65

Ah, if your most faithful Anassilla has ever been kind and sweet to you while you held the key to her heart so that no one else, Count, could ever open it, as you read the long and sorrowful plaint in these pages to which Love has destined her— poor thing—it would do no harm to let a spark of pity escape as a prize for her faith. And at least one sigh—add that to the immense fleet of her sighs that merciful heaven’s heard a thousand times. So may Love always treat you as kindly as it’s mistreated her: he’s been harsh on your account. So may no troubles find you.173 66

Accept my courteous laments and bear them faithfully to my lord, O blessed winds of France! Happy you who can delight in those bright and shining eyes. And tell him in sad, melancholy accents174 that if he’s not moved to rescue this heart by writing or returning within hours, of their light my very eyes will be spent, because these many, final torments that I’ve suffered in his absence threaten so that death alone is all I think on and fear. And if it happens that my dying words are scattered in vain, I’ve no escape— left with no device and no defense. 67

Who shall carry my just complaints to my lord, who now serves the great king of France— rare example of every form of excellence— and who’s faithful to all others but me?175

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Gaspara Stampa Aure de’ miei sospir voi, che le vele De’ miei caldi disir gonfiate spesso, Sarete il mio secreto e fido messo, Onde’l mio stato à lui sol si rivele. E, se la lunga e faticosa via Vi sbigottisce; venga con voi anche La poca e nulla homai speranza mia. E, s’egli avien, ch’ancor essa si stanche, Quando dinanzi à l’Idol nostro fia, Tornate à me, ch’anch’io conven, che manche. 68

Chiaro e famoso mare, Sovra’l cui nobil dosso Si posò’l mio Signor, mentre Amor volle; Rive honorate e care, (Con sospir dir lo posso) Che’l petto mio vedeste spesso molle; Soave lido e colle, Che con fiato amoroso Udisti le mie note, D’ira e di sdegno vote, Colme d’ogni diletto e di riposo; Udite tutti intenti Il suon’hor de gli acerbi miei lamenti. I dico, che dal giorno, Che fece dipartita L’Idolo, ond’ havean pace i miei sospiri; Tolti mi fur d’ attorno176 Tutti i ben d’esta vita; E restai preda eterna de’ martiri; E perch’io pur m’adiri, E chiami Amor’ ingrato, Che m’involò sì tosto Il ben, c’hor stà discosto, Non per questo à pietade è mai tornato; E tien l’usate tempre, Perch’io mi sfaccia e mi lamenti sempre.

The Rime 177

My sighs’ breezes, you often fill the sails of my warm desires; go and be my trusted, secret messenger who will to him alone my state reveal. And if the long and tiring way dismays you, may the little hope that remains to me— now almost nothing—travel by your side. And should even hope exhaust itself when you’re at last before our idol, return to me, for it’s fitting that I die too. 68 1 7 8

Famous, shining sea,179 my lord once rested on your noble surf, as long as Love allowed. Banks honored and dear (with sighs I can say it), you often saw my tender breast; sweet hills and shores, you heard my notes with their amorous tones, void of anger and wrath, full of every delight and repose: now all of you, be attentive to the sound of my bitter laments. I say that from the day my idol left in whom my sighs once found peace, there also went away with him what in life is best, and I fell prey to torments that are ceaseless; and that’s why I’m so angry and call Love a churl, for he so quickly stole my love, and now I’m alone, and not for that is he returned to pity but keeps to his usual temper, wherefore I’m undone, and lament forever.

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Gaspara Stampa Deh fosse men lontano Almen chi move il pianto, E chi move le giuste mie querele. Che forse non in vano M’affligerei cotanto, E chiamerei Amor’ empio e crudele, Ch’amaro assentio e fele Dopo quel dolce cibo Mi sè,180 lassa gustare In tempre aspre et amare; O` duro tosco, che’n Amor delibo; Perche fai sì dogliosa La vita mia, che fu già sì gioiosa? Almen, poi che m’è lunge Il mio terrestre Dio, Che sì lontano ancor m’apporta guai; Il duol, che sì mi punge Non mandasse in oblio, E l’udisse ei, per cui piansi e cantai; Men’acerbi i miei lai, Men cruda la mia pena, Men fiero il mio tormento, Che giorno e notte sento Fora per la sua luce alma e serena; E sariami’l dispetto Dolce sovra ogni dolce alto diletto. S’egli è pur la mia stella; E, se s’accorda il cielo, Ch’io moia per cagion così gradita; Venga Morte, e con ella Amor’, e questo velo Tolgan, & esca fuor l’alma smarrita; Che da181 suo albergo uscita Volerà lieta in parte, Dove, s’havrà mercede De la sua viva fede, Fede d’esser cantata in mille carte. Ma lassa, à che non torna, Chi le tenebre mie con gli occhi adorna?

The Rime Were he not so far away, he who compels my plaints and moves my just quarrels, then perhaps not in vain would I raise these sighs and call Love cruel and wicked who made me drink this bitter absynthe, after letting me taste, alas, a meal so sweet; I now have bitter things to eat. O harsh poison known from love, why make so sorrowful a life that was once so joyful? At least (since my earthly god dwells far from me, so far it brings me grief) don’t let him forget the sorrow that so pierces me, and may he hear the things for which I sigh and plead— less bitter my lays,182 less acute my pain, less fierce my torment that day and night I sense, should I see his light, blessed and serene; for me even his spite would be sweeter than any other delight. If this is then my fate, and heaven agrees that I may die for a cause so treasured, I welcome Death, and may Love come with her to take this body, so my soul, beleaguered, can leave its abode and gladly travel there where it will find reward for its lively faith to be sung in a thousand pages. Alas, why doesn’t he return, he who with his eyes my shadows adorns?

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Gaspara Stampa Se tu fossi contenta Canzon, come sei mesta N’andresti chiara in quella parte, e’n questa. 69

Mentre Signor’, à l’alte cose intento, V’ornate in Francia l’honorata chioma, Come fecer’ i figli alti di Roma, Figli sol di valor’ e d’ardimento; Io qui sovr’ Adria piango, e mi lamento Sì da’ martir, sì da’ travagli doma; Gravata sì da l’amorosa soma, Che mi veggo morir’, e lo consento. E duolmi sol, che sì come s’intende Qui’l suon da noi de’ nostri183 honor, c’homai Per tutta Italia sì chiaro si stende, Non s’oda in Francia il suono de’ miei lai, Che così spesso il ciel pietoso rende, E voi pietoso non ho184 fatto mai. 70 1 8 5

O` hora, ò stella dispietata e cruda, Ch’io vidi dipartir la gloria mia, Lasciando di beata, ch’era pria, La vita mia d’ogni suo bene ignuda. Da indi in quà per me si trema e suda, Si piagne, si dispera, e si disia;186 E sarà meraviglia se non fia, Che Morte tosto queste luci chiuda. Che del lor fatal Sol restate senza Altra luce giamai mirar non ponno, Che lor non sembri notte e dipartenza. Dunque ò lor tosto Amor rendi il lor donno, O` per non soffrir più187 sì dura assenza Tosto le188 chiudi in sempiterno sonno.

The Rime Song, if your happiness equaled your despair, boldly you’d go about here and there.189 69

While, lord, you’re intent on more important things— in France, you crown yourself with laurel once worn by the noble sons of Rome, warriors prized for their valor and their daring— I weep here along the Adriatic, lament my suffering, oppressed by care, so weighted down by amorous burdens that when I see death at hand, I welcome it. But my real grief is this: that while all Italy knows of your honors— yes, the word has reached us even here— no one in France hears the sound of my lays190 that have often rendered piteous heaven itself. And you? Never. 70

It was a cruel hour, under a pitiless star, when I watched him go—he, my glory, leaving my life once so blessed by his gifts an impoverished thing. Since then, for me all is tremors and sweat, tears and despair as well as desire, and what a marvel it would be if death did not move quickly to close these eyes, for left without their fatal sun, all other lights on which they gaze bring nothing but night and omens of departure. Thus soon, Love, either render them their lord, or so they suffer no more his harsh absence, close them at once in eternal sleep.191

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Gaspara Stampa 71

Quando più tardi il Sole à noi aggiorna,192 E quando avien, che poi più tardi annotte, Quand’ei mostra il crin193 d’or, quando la notte Mostra la Luna l’argentate corna. Il mio cor lasso a’ suoi sospir ritorna, A` le voci, à le lagrime interrotte Sì l’ha tutte ad un segno ricondotte L’assentia di colui, che Francia adorna. E sì caldo disio di rivederlo Fra’tutt’altri martir mi preme e punge, Che non so come homai più sostenerlo. E duolmi più, ch’egli è da me sì lunge, Ch’à poter richiamarlo, & à poterlo Mover’ à pièta il mio gridar non giunge. 72

La mia vita è un mar, l’acqua è’l mio pianto, I venti sono l’aure de’ sospiri, La speranza è la nave, i miei desiri La vela, e i remi, che la caccian tanto. La Tramontana mia, è il lume santo De’ miei duo chiari, duo stellanti giri, A` quai convien, ch’ancor lontana i miri Senza timon, senza nocchier’ à canto. Le perigliose e subite tempeste Son le teme, e le fredde gelosie, Al dipartirsi tarde, al venir preste. Bonaccie non vi son, perche dal die Che voi Conte da me lontan vi feste, Partir con voi l’hore serene mie. 73

Deh foss’io certa almen, ch’alcuna volta Voi rivolgeste à me l’alto pensiero Conte, à cui per mio danno i cieli diero, Sì da’ lacci d’ Amor l’ anima sciolta.

The Rime 71

When the sun delays in bringing us day, when it’s night that’s late in falling,194 when the sun shows us his locks of gold, when night’s moon reveals her silver horn, my tired heart returns to its fond sighs, its words, its interrupted tears: this is what he’s reduced us to, the man who, absent from us, now France adorns. And such seething passion stings and spurs me on to see him again, that with all these torments I don’t know if I can stand it anymore. What hurts me most is he’s too far away for me to reach him with my cry—and so to try to move him to compassion. 72

My life’s a sea and the waves are my tears, and the winds are the breath of sighs, hope is the ship, and my desires the sail and oars that it forward bear.195 My northern star is the holy light that flashes from my two bright, starlike eyes, on which I gaze from far away with no navigator or rudder alongside me. The dangerous and sudden tempests are my fears and ice-cold jealousy, quick to arrive and late to leave. Calm seas, dear Count, I’ve scarcely known since the day you took yourself far from me; with you went all my serenity. 73

Could I just be sure that at least once more you’d turn to me your noble thoughts,196 my Count, to whom the heavens brought this soul undone by ties of love, to my disgrace,

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Gaspara Stampa L’acerba pena mia nel petto accolta, L’empia mercè del dispietato arciero, I sospir che’n Amor sola mi fero, Havrian triegua talhor’ ò poca, ò molta. Ma’l sentirmi patir carca di fede, Senza mover pietade à chi mi strugge, A` chi contento i miei tormenti vede; Sì le speranze mie tronca & adhugge, Che, se Dio di rimedio non provede, L’alma per dipartirsi freme e rugge. 74

La gran sete amorosa, che m’afflige, La memoria del ben’, onde son priva, Che mi sta dentro al cor tenace e viva, Sì, che null’altra più forte s’affige. Sovra ogni forza mia move & addige La vena mia per se muta e restiva, E fa, che’n queste carte adombri e scriva Quanto aspramente Amor m’arde e trafige. Chi197 fà qual noi parlar la muta Pica? Chi’l nero Corvo, e gli altri muti uccelli? La brama sol di quel, che li nutrica. Però, s’avien, ch’io scriva, e ch’io favelli, Narrando l’amorosa mia fatica Non sono io nò; son gli occhi vaghi e belli. 75 1 9 8

Fa ch’io rivegga Amor’ anzi ch’io199 moia Gli occhi, che di lontan200 chiamo e sospiro, Fuor de’ quai ciò ch’io veggio, e ciò201 ch’io miro Con questi miei mi par tenebre e noia. Quante fiamme hor vome Etna, arser già Troia In quell’ incendio dispietato e diro, A` petto202 à le mie fiamme, al mio martiro Son poco, ò nulla; anzi son pace e gioia. E, se’l Sol de le luci mie divine, Chi’l crederia? tornando non lo smorza, Sento che’l mio incendio203 è senza fine.

The Rime the bitter pain that harbors in my breast, cursed reward of that pitiless archer, and the sighs that have made me alone in love, all would find some respite, small or great. But as I suffer, burdened by faith, igniting no pity in him who destroys me and who watches me unmoved by my torments, so broken off and destroyed are my hopes that if God soon provides no remedy, my soul will roar and moan to be released. 74

This great amorous thirst that afflicts me, the memory of the good of which I’m deprived, it’s fixed in my heart, so tenacious and alive that nothing can overcome it to take root there; it dominates my every force and incites my talent, normally restive and still, to darken these pages and write about how bitterly love burns and transfixes. What drives the black crow, the silent magpie, and all other mute birds to speech? Desire alone for what nurtures them. Thus it so happens if I tell of my amorous trials, it’s not I who write or speak— no, it’s those lovely, handsome eyes. 75

Love, before I die, let me see those eyes again for which I sigh and moan from far away; all else I see and all I gaze upon with my own eyes seem shadows, and it wearies. All the fires Etna vomits forth, or the pitiless blaze that once burned Troy204— they’re little or nothing next to the flame of my torments; rather, they’re peace and joy. And if the sun of my lights divine—who would believe it?205—doesn’t quench this fire when he returns, I’ll know my ardor is unending.

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Gaspara Stampa O` mirabil d’ Amor’ e nova forza; Che dove avien, ch’un foco l’altro affine,206 Qui solo un foco l’altro vince e sforza. 76

Quando talhor’ Amor m’assal più forte, E’l desir, e l’assentia mi fan guerra, E questa e quel vorria pormi sotterra, Preda d’ oscura e dispietata Morte. Io mi rivolgo à le mie fide scorte, Onde, benche lontan, virtù si sferra, Tal che la nave mia, che dubbiosa erra; Subito par, ch’al lido si riporte. Si che quanto ho d’ Amor’ onde mi doglia, Tanto ho onde mi lodi; poi ch’io sento, Ch’una sol man mi leghi una mi scioglia. O` gioia amara, ò mio dolce tormento, Io prego il ciel, che mai non mi vi toglia, E sia’l mio stato hor misero, hor contento. 77

O` de le mie fatiche alto ritegno, Mentre ad Amor’ & à Fortuna piacque; Conte gentil; à cui giamai non nacque Bellezza egual, valor, sangue, & ingegno. Se’l vostro cor di maggior Donna degno Una volta in me sola si compiacque, Se fin gli scogli d’ Adria i lidi, e l’ acque San, che voi sete il mio solo sostegno. Perche senza mia colpa e mio difetto, Se non d’esser più ch’altra fida stata, M’havete tratta fuor del vostro petto? Questa è la gioia mia da voi sperata? E` questo quel,207 che voi m’havete detto? Questa è la fe, che voi m’havete data?

The Rime Novel, marvelous force of Love! We know one fire tends to fuel another; here alone, one flame the other conquers and destroys. 76

When sometimes Love’s assault’s especially strong, and absence and desire war within me, and each of them would like to bury me as prey of dark and pitiless death, I turn back to my faithful escorts, from whom, though far away, virtue’s cast forth, so that my ship, wandering in doubt, can suddenly be returned to shore. While much of what I have from Love brings grief, there’s also much to praise, and so I feel that one hand binds me and another sets me free. O bitter joy, O my sweet torment, may God never take you from me—please preserve me as I am, now wretched, now content. 77

O noble resting place for all my labors, as long as it pleased Love and Fortune, who had never seen your like, my gentle Count, in beauty, blood, wit, or worth, if your heart, deserving of a better woman, once took pleasure in only me, so that the reefs of Adria, its shores and seas, all know that you’re my lone support, then why have you expelled me from your breast, I blameless and without fault in all but this, I’m the most faithful woman who’s ever lived? This is the joy that I hoped for from you? These are the words that you said to me? This is the faith that you gave me?

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Gaspara Stampa 78

Gli occhi, onde mi legasti Amor’ affrena Sì che non veggan mai altra bellezza, Altra creanza, & altra gentilezza Di belle Donne, onde la Francia è piena. Acciò che quanto hora è dolce & amena Non sia piena di lagrime e d’asprezza, La vita mia; ch’ogn’altra cosa sprezza, Fuor, che la luce lor208 chiara e serena. E s’egli avien, che sia lor mostro à sorte Obietto, che sia degno esser’ amato, Et accenda quel cor tenace e forte; Ferisci lui col tuo stral’ impiombato, O` con quel d’ oro dona à me la morte, Perche viver non voglio in tale stato. 79

La fè Conte il più caro e ricco pegno, Che possa haver’ illustre Cavaliero, Come cangiaste voi presto e leggiero Fuor che di lei d’ogni virtù sostegno? A` pena vide’ voi’l Gallico Regno, Che mutaste con lei voglia e pensiero; Et Anassilla, e’l suo fedele & vero Amor sparir da voi tutti ad un segno. E piaccia pur’ à lui, che mi governa, Che non sia la cagion di questo oblio Novella fiamma nel cor vostro interno.209 O`, se ciò è, acerbo stato mio, O` doglia mia sovra ogni doglia eterna; O` fidanza d’ Amor, che mi tradio. 80

Prendi Amor de’ tuoi lacci il più possente, Che non habbia nè schermo, nè difesa, Onde Evadne e Penelope fu presa, E lega il mio Signor novellamente.

The Rime 78

Love, blind those eyes to which you bound me, so they can’t gaze on any other beauty, on the graces or the courtesies of pretty women, of which France is full, so that my life, now sweet and pleasing,210 will not be full of bitterness and tears: my life, disdainful of all other things beside his eyes, fair and serene. And if there’s shown to him by chance some object worthy of his love, who fires up that heart strong and tenacious, wound him with your arrow tipped with lead,211 or since I can’t bear to live in such a state, with your arrow made of gold, give me death. 79

Faith, the dearest, richest pledge, my Count, an illustrious knight like you can give, the virtue that lets all others live: how could you break yours so quickly and so thoughtlessly? Hardly had you seen the realm of Gaul when you changed your mind and your desires; and Anassilla and the true and faithful love she bears you vanished once and for all. And may it please the one who governs me,212 let not the cause of such forgetfulness be some new flame that’s kindled in your heart. And if it is, what bitter days I see. O sorrow that outlasts all other sorrows! What faith I’ve put in love, and he’s betrayed me! 80

Love, take the most forceful of your bonds against which no defense, no shield avails— so were Evadne and Penelope felled213— and bind my lord all over again.

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Gaspara Stampa A` pena ei fu da gli occhi nostri assente Per gir’ à l’alta & honorata impresa; Che noi scherniti, e sua fè vilipesa Rivolse altrove la superba mente. E, quasi in alto pelago sommerso D’oblivione, à la sua Anassilla Non ha degnato mai scriver’ un verso. O` Nerone, ò Mezentio, ò Mario, ò Silla; Chi fu di voi sì crudo e sì perverso, D’Amor gustata pur’ una scintilla? 81

Questo aspro Conte un cor d’Orsa e di Tigre, Che’n così vago e mansueto aspetto Per forza di valor’ e d’intelletto A` la strada di gloria par che migre. Non sò per qual cagion guasti e denigre, Col mancarmi di fe sì degno effetto, E l’ali di sua fama col difetto D’infedeltà renda restive e pigre. Almen gli foss’io presso, onde potessi Dimostrargli il suo fallo, e’l dolor mio, Sì che fido e pietoso lo facessi. Ma i son qui lassa, colma di desio, E i miei lamenti à l’ aure son commessi, Egli in Francia si stà colmo d’oblio. 82

Qui, dove avien, che’l nostro mar ristagne; Conte la vostra misera Anassilla, Quando la Luna agghiaccia, e’l Sol favilla,214 Pur voi chiamando, si lamenta & agne. Voi, dove avien, che l’Oceano bagne, La notte, il giorno, à l’alba, et à la squilla, Menando vita libera e tranquilla, Mirate215 lieto il mar’ e le campagne. E si l’assentia e’l poco Amor v’invola La memoria di lei, la vostra fede, Che pur non le scrivete una parola.

The Rime Scarcely did he vanish from our eyes to perform some great and honored deed than he spurned us, turning elsewhere his haughty mind, his faith reviled. And as though he were immersed in oblivion’s deep sea, to his Anassilla he hasn’t deigned to write a single verse. Nero, Mezentius, Marius, Silla,216 who among you was so cruel and perverse that you didn’t taste even one drop of love? 81

With his heart of a tiger or bear217 concealed by the looks of one charming and gentle, my harsh count devotes all of his valor and intellect to one path: that of glory. Yet I don’t know why he spoils and defames such worthy efforts by being unfaithful; and this defect makes the wings of his fame become restive and lazy. At least if I were near him, I could impress upon him his error and my grief to make him faithful and repentant. But, alas, here I am, steeped in desire, my laments committed to the breeze, while he’s in France and steeped in forgetting. 82

Where it so happens that our sea slacks off,218 here, Count, is your wretched Anassilla; when the moon ices over and the sun sparkles, weeping, tormented, on you alone she calls. You, where it chances the ocean bathes the shores at night, at day, at dawn, and at vespers,219 you lead a life that’s free and tranquil, gazing happily at countryside and sea. And your absence and insufficient love abscond with memories and the faith you gave her, stealing any thoughts of writing her a line.

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Gaspara Stampa O` fra tutt’ altre mia miseria sola; O` pena mia, ch’ogn’altra pena eccede; Ciò si comporta Amor ne la tua scola? 83

Oime le notti mie colme di gioia, I dì tranquilli, e la serena vita; Come mi tolse amara dipartita, E converse220 il mio stato tutto in noia? E, perche temo ancor, che più m’annoia,221 Che la memoria mia sia dipartita Da quel Conte crudel, che m’ha ferita, Che mi resta altro homai, se non ch’io moia? Et vò morir, che rimirar d’altrui Quel, che fu mio, quest’occhi non potranno, Perche mirar non sanno altri, che lui. Prendano essempio l’altre, che verranno A` non mandar tant’oltra222 i disir sui, Che ritrar non si possan da l’inganno. 84

O` sacro, amato, e gratioso223 aspetto; O` più che’l chiaro Sol lucenti lumi; O` sangue illustre, angelici costumi; O` alto ingegno, altissimo intelletto. O` colmi di prudentia, e di diletto, D’eloquentia profondi e larghi fiumi; O` finalmente, ond’ io più mi consumi D’ogni gratia e virtù Conte ricetto. Qual contra224 a’ miei disir stella empia e cruda Già mi vi tolse; & hor vi tien discosto, Contra la fe, che voi mi deste pria? O` Morte dunque queste luci chiuda, Od apritele voi tornando tosto; Perche cosí non so quel ch’io mi sia.

The Rime Oh, among such anguish, my own’s the greatest! Oh, such torment that exceeds all others’ pain! In your school, Love, is this how men behave? 83

Those nights teeming with joy, oh my! My tranquil days, my happy life— that’s what his bitter parting deprived me of, and changed my state to one of suffering. And because I fear—this hurts me most— that every memory of me has parted from my cruel count (who’s left me wounded so), what else remains for me, if not to die? And I want to die: these eyes can never see again what once was mine if now it’s another’s; they know not how to gaze on anyone but him. May women heed this who come after me: don’t send your desires too far away,225 for then you can’t protect them from deception. 84

O holy, beloved, graceful bearing, O lustrous lights more radiant than the sun, O illustrious blood, habits of an angel, O lofty wit, most awesome intellect, O wide, deep rivers overflowing with prudence and delight and eloquent speech,226 O, finally, and here’s what most destroys me, a vessel, Count, for every grace and talent: what cruel and wicked star at odds with my desires first took you from me, and now keeps you distant, so breaking the faith you once gave me? O death, then either close these eyes, or open them, Count, by returning soon; otherwise I know not who I am.

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Gaspara Stampa 85

Quando tal volta il mio soverchio ardore M’assale e stringe oltra ogni stil’ humano, Userei contra me la propria mano, Per finir tanti homai con un dolore. Se non, che dentro mi ragiona Amore, Ilqual giamai da me non è lontano;227 Non por la falce tua ne l’ altrui grano; Tu non sei tua, tu sei del tuo Signore. Perche dal dì, ch’ à lui ti diedi in preda, L’anima, e’l corpo, e la morte, e la vita Divenne sua, e à lui conven, che ceda. Sì ch’à far da te stessa dipartita, Senza ch’egli te’l dica, ò te’l conceda E` troppo ingiusta cosa, e troppo ardita. 86

Piangete Donne, e poi che la mia morte Non move il Signor mio crudo228 e lontano, Voi, che sete di cor dolce & humano, Aprite di pietade almen le porte. Piangete meco la mia acerba sorte, Chiamando Amor’, il ciel empio inhumano,229 E lei, che mi ferì, spietata mano, Che mi vegga morir’e lo comporte. E poi ch’io sarò cenere e favilla, Dica230 alcuna di voi mesta e pietosa, Sentita del mio foco una scintilla, Sotto quest’aspra pietra giace ascosa L’infelice e fidissima231 Anassilla, Raro essempio di fede alta amorosa.232 87

Prendi Amor’ i tuoi strali, e la tua face, Ch’io ti rinuntio i torti e le fatiche, Le voglie à propri danni sempre amiche, La guerra certa, e la dubbiosa pace.

The Rime 85

When sometimes my excessive passion beats and assails beyond human endurance, I would use my own hand to finish myself off and end all these sorrows with a single blow, if Love didn’t argue against such a thought, he who’s within me and never far away: “Don’t plant your scythe in others’ fields; for you’re not your own, you are your lord’s: since the day you gave yourself to him as plunder, body and soul, life and death belong to him alone, and he alone can take them. So to bring about your own departure without his command or his consent would be too unjust—and much too bold.” 86

Ladies, weep, and since my death moves not233 my lord who’s cruel and far away, then you, who possess hearts that are sweet and humane, at least out of pity open your gates. Weep with me my bitter fate, call heaven evil and Love inhuman, and the hand that wounded me, dispassionate, as he sees me die and does not stop it. And since I’ll soon be dust and ashes, may one of you inspired by sparks from my flame say with a voice sad and compassionate: “Under this rough stone lies hidden the loyal, most unhappy Anassilla, rare example of great and amorous faith.” 87

Love, take your arrows and your torch, for I renounce these heartaches and these wrongs, your eagerness to procure my grief, the certain war and the dubious peace.

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Gaspara Stampa Trova un novo soggetto e più capace, Cui’l tuo foco arda, e la tua rete intriche; Ch’io per me non vò più che mi si diche Questa per altri indarno arde e si sface.234 Io son dal235 grave essilio tuo tornata, E son resa à me stessa, e non me’n pento;236 Mercè di lui, che m’ha la via mostrata. E ne’ miei danni ho pur questo contento, Ch’almen, s’io fui237 da te sì mal trattata, Alta fu la cagion del mio tormento. 88

Lassa, chi turba la mia lunga pace? Chi rompe il sonno e l’ alta mia quiete? Chi mi stilla nel cor novella sete Di gir seguendo quel, che più mi sface? Tu Amore, il cui strale, e la cui face Ogni contento human recide e miete; Tu ber mi desti del tuo238 fiume Lete, Che più mi noce, quanto più mi piace. Ahi, quando fia giamai, ch’un giorno possa Voler col mio voler resa à me stessa, Del grave giogo periglioso scossa? Quando fia mai, che la sembianza impressa Dentro à le mie midolle, e dentro à l’ossa Mi smaghi Amor’ e’ miei martir con essa? 89

Ma che sciocca dich’io? perche vaneggio? Perche sì fuggo239 questo chiaro inganno? Perche sgravarmi da sì util danno Pronta ne’ danni miei ad’ Amor chieggio? Come fuor di me stessa non m’aveggio, Che, quante hebber mai gioie, e quante havranno, Quante fur Donne mai, quante saranno Co’ miei chiari martir passo e pareggio? Che l’arder per cagion’ alta e gentile Ogni aspra vita fà dolce e beata Più che gioir per cosa abietta & vile.

The Rime Find yourself a new and stronger victim to burn with your fire, ensnare in your net. I no longer want someone to say of me, “She burned and died for another in vain.” Back from the weighty exile you imposed on me, I’m myself again—thanks to him who showed me the way—and I’ve no regrets. And at least for all my suffering, I’ve this to claim: though you treated me so poorly, the source of my torments was lofty. 88

Alas, who’s disturbing my lengthy peace?240 Who’s breaking into my sleep and its quiet?241 Who distills into my heart new thirst to wander after what most destroys me? You, Love, with your arrows and torch, you sever and mow down all human contentment; you wake me to drink from the river of Lethe242 that harms the more the more that it pleases. When will finally come the day I can will with my own will, say I’m myself again, rescued from the heavy, dangerous yoke? When might love disenchant the image stamped within my marrow, deep in my bones, and grant me release from all my pain? 89

Fool! What am I saying? Why do I rave? Why flee this deceit that everyone knows of? Why call on love to unburden these woes that are so useful, I’m ready for more? Beside myself, why couldn’t I be sure that with my torments I equal and surpass all women who’ve been, all those yet to come, all who have known or will ever know joy? To burn for a cause so noble and grand makes a bitter life sweeter, more blessed than enjoying a thing that’s abject and lowly.

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Gaspara Stampa Et io ringratio Amor, che destinata M’habbia à tal foco, che da Battro à Tile Spero anche un giorno andar chiara e lodata. 90

Voi, che per l’amoroso aspro sentiero Donne care, com’io, forse passate; Et havete talhor viste e provate Quante pene può dar quel crudo arciero; Dite per cortesia, ma dite il vero, Se quante ne son’hor, quante son state A` l’ aspre pene mie paragonate Agguaglian’ un de’ miei martir intero? E dite, se vedeste mai sembianza Più dolce in vista, e più spietata poi Del Signor’ mio, ne l’amorosa stanza? Così tal volta Amor dia tregua à voi; Mentr’ ei con questa dura lontananza Sfoga in me tutti ad uno i furor suoi. 91

Novo e raro miracol di Natura; Ma non novo nè raro à quel Signore, Che’l mondo tutto và chiamando Amore, Che’l tutto adopra fuor d’ogni misura. Il valor, che de gli altri il pregio fura Del mio Signor, che vince ogni valore; E` vinto, lassa, sol dal mio dolore, Dolor’, à petto à cui null’altro dura. Quant’ ei tutt’ altri Cavalieri eccede In esser bello, nobile, & ardito, Tanto è vinto da me, da la mia fede. Miracol fuor d’ Amor mai non udito, Dolor, che chi nol prova non lo crede; Lassa, ch’io sola vinco l’infinito.

The Rime I thank Love who destined me for such a flame, as I hope that from Bactria to Thule,243 someday I will be renowned and praised. 90

You, dear ladies, who perhaps as I do travel on this harsh and amorous path and have seen and known firsthand how many hardships that cruel archer, Love, can bring, tell me, out of courtesy, but tell the truth: if you compare my harsh sufferings with all the tribulations that exist, or ever have been, do they equal even one of my torments?244 And tell me if you’ve ever seen a face more sweet in looks and more unkind in Love’s amorous realm than my lord’s. May Love grant you a truce from time to time, while this harsh separation forces him to unleash in me, all at once, his fury. 91

Rare, new miracle of nature— but neither new nor rare to that lord whom all the world goes about calling Love, and whose work surpasses every measure— the value of my lord, who steals the prize from all others, conquering all of worth, alas, is vanquished only by my sorrow, a sorrow no one else’s breast endures. As much as he exceeds all other knights in beauty, courage, and nobility, so is he conquered by my faith, and me. O miracle of love, as yet unheard of! Grief no one will believe if they’ve not felt it! Alas, that I alone defeat the infinite!

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Gaspara Stampa 92

Quasi quercia di monte urtata e scossa Da ogni lato e da contrari venti; Che, sendo hor questi, hor quelli più possenti, Per cader mille volte e mille è mossa, La vita mia, questa mia frale possa, Combattuta hor da speme, hor da tormenti, Non sà, lontani i chiari lumi ardenti, In qual parte piegar’ homai si possa. Hor m’affidan le carte del mio bene, Hor mi disperan poi l’altrui parole; Ei mi dice io pur vengo, altri non viene.245 Sia morte meco almen più che non suole Pietosa à trarmi fuor di tante pene; Se non debbo veder tosto il mio Sole. 93

Qual fuggitiva cerva e miserella, C’havendo la saetta nel costato Seguita da’ duo veltri in selva e’n prato Fugge la morte, che và pur con ella; Tal’io, ferita da l’empie quadrella, Del fiero cacciator crudo & alato, Gelosia e disio havendo à lato Fuggo, e schivar non posso la mia stella. Laqual mi mena à miserabil morte, Se non ritorna à noi da gente strana Il Sol de gli occhi miei, che la conforte; Egli è’l Dittamo mio, egli risana La piaga mia; e può far la mia sorte D’aspra e noiosa, dilettosa e piana. 94

A` che Conte assalir chi non repugna? A` che gittar per terra chi si rende? A` che contender con chi non contende? Con chi havete mai sempre fra l’ ugna?

The Rime 92

Like a mountain oak, throttled and beaten246 by contrary winds on every side: now these gusts have more power, now those to make it fall, over two thousand times: so my life, this frail power that is mine, is assailed now by hope and now by torment, far from his brilliant, burning lights and so unsure as to how it might incline. Now his letters assure me of some good, but then others’ words drive me to despair. He writes, “I’m coming back,” they say, “He’s not.” May death at least show more pity than it’s wont by releasing me from so much pain if I can’t see—and quickly now—my sun. 93

Like a pitiful doe in flight247 through forests and meadows, two hounds in pursuit, an arrow embedded deep in her side— how she flees the death that travels with her— so I, wounded by poisonous arrows that fierce hunter unleashed, winged and cruel, I flee jealousy and desire who race beside me, but I can’t avoid the destiny that drives me toward a pitiful death if the sun of my eyes fails to return from foreign lands, where he brings comfort. He’s my miracle plant;248 one touch, my wound is healed, and he can turn my harsh, depressing fate into a life of pleasure and delight. 94

Why assault someone, Count, who doesn’t fight back? Why fling to the ground someone who’s yielded? Why contend with someone who won’t resist, whom you’ve always had between your claws?

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Gaspara Stampa Sapete, che co’ morti non si pugna; Che lo splendor d’un Cavalier’ offende, E’l vostro più, che l’ali hoggimai stende Dove non sò s’ altrui chiarezza aggiugna. Guardate, che la fama de le tante Vostre vittorie, poi non renda oscura Signor quest’una sola e non ammante. Io per me stimerei mia gran ventura L’esser veduta al vostro carro innante; Ma voi del vostro honor habiate cura. 95

Menami Amor’ homai, lassa, il mio Sole, Che mi solea non pur far chiaro il giorno; Ma non men, che’l di chiara anco la notte, Tal ch’io sprezzava il ritornar de l’alba, Sì di quest’occhi la sua vaga luce Disgombrava le tenebre e la nebbia, Et hora più non veggio altro, che nebbia, Poi che l’ usato mio lucente Sole Con la sua, e del mondo altera luce, Lume facendo in altra parte e giorno, Vuol, che mai non si rompa per me l’alba, Perche da me non fugga unqua la notte. Deh discacciasse il vel di questa notte, Il vel di tanta e sì importuna nebbia, E à l’apparir del suo ritorno l’ alba Mi rimenasse il mio bramato Sole, Sì che lieta vedessi ancora un giorno, Pria, che chiudessi in tutto esta mia luce. Ben fora chiara e gratiosa luce, Che procedesse à sì beata notte; Ben fora chiaro e desiato giorno, E disgombrato di tempeste e nebbia, Che mostrasse à quest’occhi il lor bel Sole, Spuntando tra le rose, e tra i fior l’alba. Pur, ch’innanzi, che’l ciel mi renda l’alba; Morte amara non spenga la mia luce, Invidiando à lei l’amato Sole,

The Rime You know you can’t do battle with the dead, and that the splendor of a knight’s diminished— especially yours—when his wings extend to those who can hardly lend him glory. Be careful, lord, that this one woman alone doesn’t cover up or darken the fame that you’ve gained from your many victories. As for myself, it would be my great fortune to be seen leading your triumphal carriage,249 but you should be mindful of your honor. 95 2 5 0

Love, bring back to me—alas!—my sun who once not only brightened my day but ensured that day was no less dark than night, so that I scorned the return of the dawn, as long as his eyes’ lovely light scattered the shadows and the fog. For there is nothing that I see but fog, now that my accustomed, light-filled sun with its own and with the world’s great light is casting brightness elsewhere to make day, and wishes to deny me another dawn so that from me will never again flee the night. Oh, may someone chase away this veil of night, the veil of such importunate fog, and at the appearance of his return, the dawn might bring to me my much-desired sun, so that gladly I’d see a single day before I closed within myself my light. Surely it would have to be a bright and gracious light coming before as blessed a thing as night, surely it would have to be a bright, desired day, disencumbering itself of storms and fog, to reveal to these eyes their handsome sun bursting forth among the roses and flowers of dawn. Thus until heaven renders me the dawn, may greedy death not extinguish my light, envying as she does my beloved sun,

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Gaspara Stampa E chiusi gli occhi in sempiterna notte, Nè vada,251 lassa, à star fra quella nebbia; Dove mai non si vede il chiaro252 giorno. Tu dunque Amor’, che fai di notte giorno E puoi condurmi in un momento l’ alba, E via cacciar de’ miei martir la nebbia, E di tenebre oscure trar la luce Rompi homai’l vel di questa lunga notte, Et adduci à quest’occhi il mio bel Sole. Vivo Sol, che solei far chiaro il giorno, Mentre la luce mia non vide nebbia, Perche non meni à la mia notte l’ alba? 96

Deh, perche, com’io son con voi col core, Non vi son Conte ancor con la persona, Com’io vorrei, tanto’l disio mi sprona, Tanto mi stringe il Signor nostro Amore? Che, mirando talhor l’ aspro furore Sovra di voi, quando arde più Bellona Di qualche Cavalier, che la corona Cercasse porsi di sì alto honore. Vedendo scender qualche colpo crudo, O` pregherei Amor, che lo schifassi, O` io del corpo mio li farei scudo. Ma’l ciel pur fiero à le mie voglie stassi, Nè m’ode, benche’l duol, che dentro chiudo, Rompa per la pietate i duri sassi. 97

O` gran valor d’un Cavalier cortese, D’haver portato fin’in Francia il core D’una giovane incauta, ch’ Amore A` lo splendor de’ suoi begli occhi prese. Almen m’haveste le promesse attese Di temprar con due versi il mio dolore, Mentre Signor’ à procacciarvi honore Tutte le voglie havete ad una intese.

The Rime and close my eyes in that eternal night; nor may I go to dwell within the fog that never lets one gaze again on day. Thus you, Love, who turn night into day and can within a moment bring me dawn and chase away my sufferings wrapped in fog and into dense shadows attract the light: break now the veil of this lengthy night and lead before my eyes that handsome sun. Living sun that brightened once my day, when my light was never darkened by the fog, why can’t you draw into my night the dawn? 96

Ah, then why is it that since my heart’s with you, I’m not with you, Count, in person too, as I’d like—such the desire that spurs me so, such the compulsion from Love, our lord. For watching the harsh furor that resounds all around you when Bellona’s ardor253 smites some knight so fiercely that he burns to deprive you of high honor’s crown, and fearing you were doomed for bitter blows, I’d either pray Love to deflect them or use my very body for your shield. But heaven, hostile to my wishes, hears me not, though the grief I close inside would rack with pity the hardest stones.254 97

So this is how a courteous knight shows his worth255— to have carted off to France the heart of a reckless girl, seized by love with the help of his two dazzling eyes. You might have tended to your promise to temper my grief with at least a verse or two, while all your will, my lord, was intent on a single purpose: your honor.

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Gaspara Stampa I ho pur letto ne l’ antiche carte, Che non hebber’ à sdegno i grandi Heroi Parimente seguir Venere e Marte. E del Re, che seguite, udito ho poi, Che queste cure altamente comparte, Ond’è chiar da gli Hesperij à i lidi Eoi. 98

Conte, il vostro valor ben’è infinito, Sì che vince qualunque alto valore, Ma verissimamente è via minore De’l duol, ch’ amando io ho per voi patito. E se non s’è fin qui letto & udito De l’infinito cosa unqua maggiore, Questi sono i miracoli d’ Amore, Che vince ciò che’n cielo è stabilito. Tempo già fu, che l’alta gioia mia Di gran lunga avanzava anco il mio duolo, Mentre dolce la speme entro fioriva.256 Hor’ ella è gita, & ei rimaso è solo, Dal dì, che per mia stella acerba e ria Prendeste, ahi lassa, verso Francia il volo. 99

Io pur’ aspetto, e non veggo che giunga, Il mio Signor’, ò’l suo fidato messo Al termin, che da lui mi fu promesso; Lassa, che’l mio piacer troppo s’allunga, Ond’avien, che temenza il cor mi punga, Che qualche intoppo non gli sia successo; O` ch’ei sol pensi in me quanto m’è presso, E l’assentia il suo cor da me disgiunga. Il che se fosse, io prego Morte avara, Che venga in vece sua, poi ch’ei non viene E trarmi257 fuor di tema e vita amara. Ma se giusta cagion me lo ritiene, Io prego Amor, ch’ogni fosco rischiara, Ch’apra la via, ond’io vegga il mio bene.

The Rime But in books of old I’ve read that great heroes did not disdain to pursue as equals both Venus and Mars;258 and I’ve heard that the king you follow shares in the cares of both gods—whence his fame from the West to the Aeolian Isles.259 98

Count, your very worth is infinite, so much so that it defeats all else of worth, but truly it’s a little thing next to the grief I’ve suffered by loving you. And if no one’s ever read or heard before that there’s something larger than infinity, well, these are the miracles of Love, who conquers what heaven has ordained. Once there was a time when my great joy exceeded my suffering by far, when sweet hope was still in flower; now joy has fled, and grief’s left alone, since the day my wicked, bitter star—alas— compelled you to take your flight toward France. 99

I’m still waiting, and I see no trace260 of my lord or his faithful messenger, no sign he’ll come by the day he promised— alas! my pleasure’s too long delayed, and so my heart is seized with fear that some obstacle has overcome him, or that he thinks of me only when he’s near, and absence lets him disengage his heart. No matter which: he isn’t here, so I’ve asked greedy death to come instead, and take me from my dread and bitter life. But if some just cause detains him, well— I pray to Love who clears away all mist to speed his way so soon I’ll see my beloved.

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O` beata, e dolcissima novella, O` caro annuntio, che mi promettete, Che tosto rivedrò le care, e liete Luci, e la faccia gratiosa e bella; O` mia ventura, ò mia propitia stella, Ch’à tanto ben serbata ancor m’havete, O` fede, ò speme, ch’à me sempre sete State compagne in dura aspra procella. O` cangiato in un punto viver mio Di mesto in lieto; ò queto almo e sereno Fatto hor di verno tenebroso e rio; Quando potrò giamai lodarvi à pieno? Come dir, qual nel cor’haggio disio, Di che letitia io l’habbia ingombro e pieno? 10 1

Con quai degne accoglienze, ò quai parole Raccorrò io il mio gradito Amante, Che torna à me con tante glorie, e tante, Quante in un sol non vide forse il Sole? Qual color hor di rose, hor di viole Fia’l mio? qual cor’ hor saldo, & hor tremante Condotta innanzi à quel divin sembiante, Ch’ardir’ e tema insieme dar mi suole? Osarò io con queste fide braccia Cingerli il caro collo, & accostare La mia tremante à la sua viva faccia? Lassa, che pur’ à tanto ben penare, Temo, che’l cor di gioia non si sfaccia, Chi l’ha provato se lo può pensare. 10 2

Via da me le tenebre e la nebbia, Che mi son sempre state à gli occhi intorno Sei Lune e più, che’n Francia fè soggiorno. Lui, che’l mio cor, come gli piace, trebbia.

The Rime 10 0

O blessed news, O sweetest news, O message dear that promises I’ll see again—and soon—those dear and lovely lights, that gracious handsome face; O my good fortune, O propitious star that preserved me for such happiness; O faith, O hope who’ve always kept me company throughout these bitter, stormy days; O life that’s altered in an instant from misery to joy; O quiet soul, serene in the wake of winter’s shadows, fled: when shall I ever praise you fully?261 This longing in my heart, how can it ever be described—the happiness that I have, to overflowing?262 10 1

How will I greet him, with what words will I rush to welcome my beloved, who returns to me decked in glories so many that the sun has (perhaps) never seen such a man? What color—now of roses, now of violets— will be mine? Which heart—still or trembling— will I bear before that divine semblance who makes me burn and fear at once? Will I dare to throw these faithful arms around that dear neck and raise to his vibrant face my tremulous one? Alas, as I suffer for so much love, my heart, I fear, will dissolve in joy: and whoever’s felt this can well imagine. 10 2

Away, fog and shadows—six full moons and more you’ve hovered before these eyes, ever since he made his sojourn in France, the man who thrashes my heart just as he pleases.

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Gaspara Stampa E` ben ragion, ch’asserenarmi io debbia, Hor, che’l mio Sol m’ha rimenato il giorno; Hor, c’han pace le guerre; che d’ attorno, Mi fur, qual vide Trasimeno, e Trebbia. Sia ogni cosa in me di riso piena, Poi che seco una schiera di diletti A` star meco il mio Sol’ almo rimena. Sia la mia vita in mille dolci eletti Piaceri involta, e tutta alma e serena, E se stessa gioendo ogn’hor diletti. 10 3

Io benedico, Amor, tutti gli affanni, Tutte l’ ingiurie, e tutte le fatiche, Tutte le noie novelle, & antiche, Che m’hai fatto provar tante e tanti anni. Benedico le frodi, e i tanti inganni, Con che convien, che i tuoi seguaci intriche, Poi che tornando le due stelle amiche M’hanno in un tratto ristorati i danni. Tutto il passato mal porre in oblio M’ha fatto la lor viva e nova luce, Ove sol trova pace il mio disio. Questa per dritta strada mi conduce Sù à contemplar le belle cose e Dio, Ferma guida, alta scorta, e fida luce.263 10 4

O` notte, à me più chiara, e più beata, Che i più beati giorni, & i più chiari, Notte degna da’ primi, e da’ più rari Ingegni, esser non pur da me lodata. Tu de le gioie mie sola sei stata Fida ministra, tu tutti gli amari De la mia vita hai fatto dolci e cari, Resomi in braccio lui, che m’ha legata. Sol mi mancò, che non divenni allora La fortunata Alcmena; à cui stè tanto Più de l’usato à ritornar l’ Aurora.

The Rime And now it’s time for me to feel serene, now that my sun’s brought back to me the day, now that there’s peace—the wars once seen in Trebbia and Trasimeno have run their course.264 May everything in me be filled with laughter now that my blessed sun returns to stay with me, escorted by an army of delights. May my life be bundled into pleasures, a thousand sweet ones, and serene and blessed enjoy itself enjoying such delights.265 10 3

I bless, Love, all the anxieties, all the trials, all the injuries, the troubles old and new you’ve made me suffer during all these many years; I bless the deceits and the many tricks you use to ensnare your followers; for by returning my two friendly stars, you’ve made up in an instant for my hardships. My cursed past is thrown into forgetfulness by their new and throbbing light, and there alone my desire can find peace. On straight paths it leads me,266 up above to contemplate all lovely things, and God: my strong and noble guide, my faithful light. 10 4

O night, to me more luminous and blessed than the most blessed and luminous of days,267 night, worthy of being praised by the rarest geniuses, not just by me, you alone have been the faithful minister of all my joys; all that was bitter in my life you’ve rendered sweet and dear and placed me in the arms of the man who bound me. Had I only then become the fortunate Alcmene,268 on whose behalf the dawn delayed her usual return!

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Gaspara Stampa Pur cosi bene io non potrò mai tanto Dir di te notte candida, ch’ancora Da la269 materia non sia vinto il canto. 10 5

Son pur questi i begli occhi, e quelle, c’hanno Vinto il Sol tante volte alme bellezze; Son pur queste le gratie e le vaghezze, Che luce e vita à la mia morte danno. E tuttavia son sì pronte à l’affanno Le voglie mie, et a’ tormenti avezze, Di tanta assentia homai, che l’allegrezze Ritornar’ à star meco più non sanno. Quasi’l gran Re, che di sospetto pieno, Fuggendo il crudo zio, per lunga usanza Si fece natural cibo il veleno. Qui fa bisogno Amor la tua possanza, Che del primo dolor mi sgombri il seno, Sì che tanta mia gioia hor v’habbia stanza. 10 6

O` diletti d’ Amor dubbij e fugaci, O` speranza, che s’alza e cade spesso, E nasce e more in un momento istesso; O` poca fede, ò poco lunghe paci. Quegli, à cui dissi270 tu solo mi piaci, E` pur tornato, io l’ho pur sempre presso, Io pur mi specchio, e mi compiaccio in esso, E ne’ begli occhi suoi chiari e vivaci. E tuttavia nel cor mi rode un verme Di fredda gelosia, freddo timore Di tosto tosto senza lui vederme. Rendi tu vana la mia tema Amore, Tu, che beata e lieta poi tenerme, Conservandomi fido il mio Signore.

The Rime Yet even so, I’ll never know to say enough of you that my song, snow-white night, is not finally defeated by its subject.271 10 5

These then are the handsome eyes and those the divine beauties that have defied the sun so many times: these the favors and the charms that give light and life to my death. And yet so accustomed to long absence are my desires, so inured to trials that happiness no longer realizes it’s permitted to return to me, just like the king who fled his uncle, suspicious of his cruelty, and through long practice transformed poison into his daily food.272 Here’s clear need, Love, for your power: empty out my heart of its previous sorrow so that my joy might find itself some room.273 10 6

O delights of love, so fleeting and unsure, O hope that soars and falls so quickly, that’s born and dies in a single instant, O little faith, O peace that won’t endure! He to whom I said, you alone I love274— he’s back, and I have him always near; in him I see myself, in him I take delight275 and in those handsome eyes, lively and bright; and yet within my heart, there gnaws the icecold worm of jealousy and chilling dread that soon, too soon, I’ll be without him. Love, make my fear baseless, an empty thing: you can276 preserve me, blessed and content, keeping my lord faithful just to me.

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Hor, che ritorna e si rinova l’anno, Passato il verno e la stagion più fresca, L’amoroso disir mio si rinfresca, E la mia dolce pena, e’l dolce affanno. E qual’ i novi humor gravidi fanno Gli arbori, onde lor frutto à suo tempo esca; Tal’ humor nel mio petto par, che cresca; Alqual poi pensier dolci à dietro vanno. Et è ben degno, che gioia & humore, Hor, ch’egli è meco la mia Primavera, Mi rinovelli e mi ridesti Amore. O` pur non giunga à sì bel giorno sera; O` pur non cangi il bel tempo in horrore Dipartendo da me l’alma mia sfera. 10 8

Poi che m’ha reso Amor le vive stelle, Che mi guidano al ciel per dritta via, E ne le molte mie gravi tempeste M’hanno mai sempre ricondotta in porto Di questo chiaro e fortunato mare, Ch’indarno turban le procelle e i venti. Udite benigne aure, amici venti, Et voi occhi del cielo ardenti stelle, Mentre qui sovra questo altero mare, Da la mia lunga e faticosa via, La mercede d’ Amor, tornata in porto, Lodo di lui gli stratij, e le tempeste. Voi voci, voi sospir, voi le tempeste Sete, voi sete i gratiosi venti, Che dimostrate poi sì dolce il porto, Quando il Sol’ arde, e quando ardon le stelle, Voi sete la sicura e dritta via, Che ci guidate de’ diletti al mare.

The Rime 10 7

Now that the year’s renewed itself,277 its freshest season returned and winter past, my amorous desire’s also refreshed, along with my sweet cares and sweet hardships, and just as new sap impregnates the trees and in the fullness of time their fruits burst forth, so does it seem that such sap grows in me, and sweet thoughts emerge not far behind. And it’s only fitting now that he who’s spring to me is here, that Love revive and reawaken joy and mirth for me. Oh, may such a lovely day never know night! May this season never turn chill with horrors and deprive me of this divine sphere, my light! 10 8

Now that Love has rendered me those living stars that guide me toward heaven on a straight path and through my many violent tempests lead me back forever to harbor on this famous and fortunate sea where vainly threaten violent storms and winds,278 listen, kindly breezes, friendly winds, and you, the eyes of heaven, burning stars that shine above this imposing sea, how from my long and tiring path— all thanks to Love—I’ve come back to harbor to praise him for his gifts: trials and tempests. You are the voices, you the sighs, you the tempests, and you the gracious winds who show the way to so sweet a harbor when the sun burns and when burn the stars; you are the surest, straightest path that guides me through the delights of the sea.

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Gaspara Stampa Qual d’eloquentia fia sì largo mare, E sì scarco di nubi e di tempeste, Che possa dir senza arrestar fra via, Mentre stan quete le procelle e i venti, La gioia, che mi dan le mie due stelle, Hor, c’hanno il mio Signor ridotto in porto? Dolce, sicuro, e gratioso porto, Che del mio pianto l’ infinito mare M’hai acquetato al raggio de le stelle; Ch’ovunque splendon, fugan le tempeste Sì ch’io non posso più temer, ch’i venti Turbin sì cara e dilettosa via. Menami Amor’ homai per questa via, Fin che quest’alma giunga à l’altro porto, Ch’io non vò navigar con altri venti, Nè di questo cercar più largo mare, Nè nel viaggio mio vò, ch’altre stelle Mi sieno scorte, e sgombrin le tempeste. Aspre tempeste, & importuni venti Non n’impediran più del mar la via. Hor, che le stelle mie m’han mostro il porto. 10 9

Gioia somma, infinito, alto diletto, Hor, che l’amato mio tesoro ho presso; Hor, che parlo con lui; che’l miro spesso M’ingombrerebbe certamente il petto; Se’l cor non mi turbasse un sol sospetto Di tosto, tosto rimaner senz’esso; Per quel, ch’io veggo à qualche segno espresso, Che sol’apre Amor gli occhi à l’ intelletto. E, se ciò è, io vò certo finire Questa misera vita in un momento Anzi ch’io provi un tanto aspro martire, Perche conosco chiaramente e sento; Che senza lui mi converria morire, Ch’è l’appoggio, à cui’l viver mio sostento.

The Rime 279

Who possesses eloquence as vast as the sea when unburdened by clouds and by tempests and all is quiet among the storms and winds, to tell without stopping or stumbling on the path of the joy that’s brought me by my two stars now that they’ve led my lord into harbor? Sweet, secure, and gracious harbor, you’ve quieted my weeping’s infinite sea, you’ve calmed me beneath the light of the stars; wherever they shine, they drive away tempests and leave me secure, for I need fear no winds will trouble me on my dear, delightful path. Lead me, Love, from now on along this path until my soul arrives at that other harbor; I don’t want to navigate with any other winds or seek out any greater sea, or wish for my voyage any other stars as guides than these, that clear away all tempests. May neither bitter tempest nor importunate winds impede my path any longer through the sea now that my stars have shown me to my harbor. 10 9

Profound joy, great and infinite delight, now that my beloved treasure’s near; now that I often talk with him and gaze at him, my breast would certainly fill to bursting280 were not my heart troubled by the single fear that soon, too soon, it will be without him, as I can see by certain signs—for Love alone opens our eyes to such intelligence. And if that’s the case, I’d certainly like to end this wretched life in just an instant rather than to taste such bitter torment. It’s clear enough to me, I feel it: without him, all that’s left for me is death— and he’s the support who sustains my very breath.

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Chi può contar’ il mio felice stato, L’alta mia gioia, e gli alti miei diletti? O` un di que’ del ciel’ Angeli eletti, O` altro amante, che l’habbia provato. Io mi stò sempre al mio Signor’ à lato Godo il lampo degli occhi, e’l suon de i detti, Vivomi de’ divini alti concetti, Ch’escon da tanto ingegno e sì pregiato. Io mi miro281 sovente il suo bel viso, E mirando mi par veder’ insieme Tutta la gloria e’l ben del Paradiso, Quel, che sol turba in parte la mia speme, E`’l timor, che da me non sia diviso, Che’l vorrei meco fin’ à l’hore estreme. 11 1

Pommi ove’l mar irato geme e frange, Ov’ha l’acqua più queta e più tranquilla; Pommi ove’l Sol più arde, e più sfavilla, O` dove il ghiaccio altrui trafige & ange. Pommi al Tanai gelato, al freddo Gange, Ove dolce rugiada e manna stilla, Ove per l’aria empio velen scintilla, O` dove per Amor si ride e piange. Pommi ove’l crudo Scita & empio fere, O` dove è queta gente e riposata, O` dove tosto, ò tardi huom vive e pere. Vivrò qual vissi, e sarò qual son stata, Pur che le fide mie due stelle vere Non rivolgan da me la luce usata. 11 2

Se voi poteste ò Sol de gli occhi miei, Qual sete dentro donno del mio core Veder co i vostri apertamente fuore, O` me beata quattro volte e sei.

The Rime 11 0

Whoever could describe282 my happy state, the great joy I know and these sublime delights? Either one of those elect angels from heaven— or some other lover who has felt this too. I’m always beside my lord, to enjoy the light from his eyes, the sound of his voice; I thrive on those divine and lofty conceits that flow from an intellect so bold and esteemed. Often I gaze on his beautiful face, and gazing there I seem to see all the glory and good of paradise. All that darkens—in part—my hope is the fear that he’ll be taken from me, since I want him with me in my final hours. 11 1

Place me where the angry sea breaks and moans,283 or where its waters are calm and tranquil; place me where the sun burns at its most intense, or where the ice torments and transfixes; place me in the gelid Don, the chilly Ganges,284 where sweet dewdrops distill manna, where the death-giving air breeds poison, or where love’s vapors make one laugh, and groan; place me where the barbarous Scythian strikes, or where men dwell quietly and at peace, where sooner or later a man lives and dies: I’ll live as I have lived, will be what I’ve been, as long as my two faithful stars don’t deny me their accustomed light. 11 2

O Sun of my eyes, if with yours wide open you could actually see inside my heart and know you’re lord there— I’d be blessed four times and more.

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The Rime 11 0

Whoever could describe282 my happy state, the great joy I know and these sublime delights? Either one of those elect angels from heaven— or some other lover who has felt this too. I’m always beside my lord, to enjoy the light from his eyes, the sound of his voice; I thrive on those divine and lofty conceits that flow from an intellect so bold and esteemed. Often I gaze on his beautiful face, and gazing there I seem to see all the glory and good of paradise. All that darkens—in part—my hope is the fear that he’ll be taken from me, since I want him with me in my final hours. 11 1

Place me where the angry sea breaks and moans,283 or where its waters are calm and tranquil; place me where the sun burns at its most intense, or where the ice torments and transfixes; place me in the gelid Don, the chilly Ganges,284 where sweet dewdrops distill manna, where the death-giving air breeds poison, or where love’s vapors make one laugh, and groan; place me where the barbarous Scythian strikes, or where men dwell quietly and at peace, where sooner or later a man lives and dies: I’ll live as I have lived, will be what I’ve been, as long as my two faithful stars don’t deny me their accustomed light. 11 2

O Sun of my eyes, if with yours wide open you could actually see inside my heart and know you’re lord there— I’d be blessed four times and more.

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Gaspara Stampa Voi più sicuro, e queta io più sarei, Voi senza gelosia, senza timore, Io di due sarei scema d’un dolore, E più felicemente ardendo andrei; Anzi aperto per voi, lassa, si vede, Più che’l lume del Sol lucido e chiaro, Che dentro e fuori io spiro Amor’ e fede. Ma vi mostrate di credenza avaro, Per tormi ogni speranza di mercede, E far’il dolce mio viver’ amaro. 11 3

Deh foss’io almen sicura, che lo stato, Dov’hor mi trovo, non mancasse presto, Perche, sì come hor’ è lieto, & hor mesto, Sarebbe il più felice, che sia stato. I ho Amore, e’l mio Signor’ à lato; E mi consolo hor con quello, hor con questo, E sempre, che di loro un m’è molesto, Ricorro à l’altro, chi285 m’è poi pacato. S’ Amor m’assale con la gelosia Mi volgo al viso, che’n se dentro serra Virtù, ch’ogni tormento scaccia via. Se’l mio Signor mi fa con ira guerra, Viene Amor poi con l’ altra compagnia, Vera humiltà, ch’ogni alto sdegno atterra. 11 4

Mille volte Signor movo la penna, Per mostrar fuor qual chiudo entro il pensiero Il valor vostro, e’l bel sembiante altero, Ove Amor’, e la gloria l’ale impenna. Ma, perche chi cantò Sorga e Gebenna, E seco il gran Virgilio, e’l grande Homero Non basteriano à raccontarne il vero Ragion, ch’io taccia à la memoria accenna. Però mi volgo à scriver solamente L’historie286 de le mie gioiose pene, Che mi fan singolar fra l’ altra gente.

The Rime You’d be more trusting, I more tranquil, you without jealousy, left without fear, while I’d be freed of one of these burdens to go about burning more happily. Yet, alas, to you my heart’s already revealed— brighter, more transparent than sunlight— how inside and out, love and faith make me breathe. But you’re so stingy with belief, you strip me of all hope that mercy might be mine, making sweet life a bitter thing. 11 3

Ah, were I at least assured287 that how I find myself today could only endure— no matter that now I’m sad, now content— this would be the happiest state of all. For I have Love and my lord at my side, and console myself with this one, now the other, and whenever one gives me trouble I run to the other who can calm me. So if Love assails me with jealousy I turn to the face that encloses within such virtue that it can chase away all pain; if my lord attacks me in angry war, Love arrives with other company—true humility, who defeats all proud disdain. 11 4

A thousand times, my lord, I’ve moved the pen to show without what thoughts enclose within: your valor and your lofty bearing that dwell where Love and glory unfold their wings. But since he who sang Sorgue and Monginevro,288 along with the great Homer and Virgil, would hardly be enough to tell289 the truth, reason mandates that memory is stilled. Thus do I turn290 to write of this alone, the stories of my joyous griefs that make me unique among all others,

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Gaspara Stampa E come Amor ne’ be’ vostr’ occhi tiene Il seggio suo; e come indi sovente Sì dolce l’alma à tormentar mi viene. 11 5

Quelle rime honorate, e quell’ingegno Pari à la beltà vostra e al gran valore, Rivolgete à voi stesso in far’honore Conte, come di lor soggetto degno. O` trovate di me più altero pegno, Se pur’ uscir da voi volete fore; Perche à sì larga vena, à tanto humore Son per me troppo frale e secco legno. E non ho parte in me d’esser cantata, Se non perch’amo e riverisco voi Oltra ogni humana, oltra ogni forma usata. Sì chiara fiamma merta i pregi suoi; In questa parte io deggio esser cantata Fin ch’io sia viva, eternamente, e poi. 11 6

Lodate i chiari lumi, ove mirando Perdei me stessa; e quel bel viso humano, Da cui vibrò lo stral, mosse la mano Amor, quando da me mi pose in bando. Lodate il valor vostro alto e mirando, Ch’al valor d’ Alessandro è prossimano, Sallo il gran Re, sallo il paese strano, Che di voi, e di lui vanno parlando. Lodate il senno, à cui non è simile Nel bel verde de gli anni; quel, che’n carte Vedrò famoso il vostro ingegno e stile. In me Signor non è pur una parte, Che non sia tutta indegna e tutta vile, Per cui sì vaghe rime sieno sparte.

The Rime and how Love keeps his dominion in your lovely eyes, and how frequent the sweet afflictions that he visits on my soul. 11 5

Those esteemed rhymes, that rare wit, equal to your handsome self and your great valor— turn them to yourself, Count, so as to honor the only subject that has merit;291 or if you want to go beyond yourself, then find some subject loftier than me, because for such rich vein of talent, I’m far too frail, just brittle wood, and nothing in me is deserving of your song, were it not that I love you—revere you far beyond all that’s human, beyond all custom. So intense a flame deserves its prize. At least for this I’m worthy to be sung as long as I have life—and then, forever. 11 6

Praise those bright lights where, gazing, I once lost myself, and your handsome face that made Love’s bow throb and moved his hand when he banished me from myself forever. Praise your own great valor, marvelous, approximate to Alexander’s; the great king knows this, and that foreign land where they go speaking of you, and of him.292 Praise your wisdom, to which none can compare if still a youth, and your wit and style I’ll see you yet with your verses make famous. In me, lord, there’s not a single drop not utterly unworthy and vile, for which you’ve scattered such charming rhymes.

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Gaspara Stampa 11 7

A che vergar Signor carte, & inchiostro In lodar me, se non ho cosa degna, Onde tant’ alto honor mi si convegna; E se ho pur niente è tutto vostro? Entro i begli occhi, entro l’avorio e l’ostro, Ove Amor tien sua gloriosa insegna; Ove per me trionfa, e per voi regna, Quanto scrivo e ragiono mi fu mostro. Perche ciò, che s’honora, e’n me si prezza, Anzi, s’io vivo e spiro, è vostro il vanto, A` voi convien, non à la mia bassezza. Ma voi cercate con sì dolce canto, Lassa, oltra quel, che fa vostra bellezza, D’accrescermi più foco e maggior pianto. 11 8

Bastavan293 Conte que’ bei lumi, quelli, Ch’al Sol raggi, à Ciprigna alma beltate, Ad Amor’ arme, à me la libertate, Furar da prima, che mirai in elli. A` far, ch’arda per voi sempre e favelli, Sì che l’intenda la futura etate, Senza cercar con pure rime ornate D’aggiunger nove al cor piaghe e flagelli. Che col vostr’alto procacciarmi honore, Sì294 strigneria, se si potesse, il laccio, S’accresceria, se si potesse, ardore. Ma di questo e di quel son fuor d’impaccio, Che quanto arder’ e strigner puote Amore, Io son stretta per voi Conte e mi sfaccio. 11 9

Io non mi voglio più doler d’ Amore, Poi che, quant’ei mi dà doglia e tormento, Tanto il Signor, ch’io amo, e ch’io pavento, Cerca scrivendo procacciarmi honore,

The Rime 11 7

What use, lord, is putting pen to paper to praise me, when nothing in me merits the high honors you’d bestow on me: and if there’s something there, why, isn’t it all yours? Love keeps his glorious emblems within your gorgeous eyes, ivory teeth, ruddy cheeks295 where he rules for you and triumphs over me: whatever I write and speak about is there. Thus if anything in me is honored or prized— no, that I live and breathe—the credit’s yours; you’ve made it possible, not me in my baseness. But now you try with such sweet song to surpass— alas—what you do with your beauty, intensify my flame, increase my laments. 11 8

All it took, Count, to deprive the sun of light, Cytherea of her beauty,296 Love of his weapons, and me my liberty were your bright eyes—one glance, and I’m dispatched. They’re all that’s needed to make me burn for you forever, and chatter on so that future ages will understand—no reason for you to add new torments to my heart with elegant verse. So to catch me, worthy as you are, you might tighten the cord, could it be done, or enhance my ardor, were it possible. I’m no hindrance to this goal or that. Whatever Love can do to burn or constrain me is done: Count, I’m so bound to you, I’m consumed. 11 9

I won’t complain anymore about Love, because the more pain and sorrow he brings me, the more my lord (whom I love and fear) seeks to honor me in writing.

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Gaspara Stampa O` di tutte bellezze e gratie il fiore, Nido di cortesia e d’ardimento, Come posso bramar, che resti spento Così famoso e così chiaro ardore? Anzi prego, che’l ciel mi doni vita, Sì che dovunque il Sol nasca e tramonte Sia la mia fiamma entro tai versi udita. E dica alcuna, ove d’ Amor si conte, Ben fu la sorte di costei gradita Scritta e cantata da sì alto Conte.297 12 0

Se qualche tema talhor non turbasse, O` qualche sdegno il mio felice stato, Sarebbe il più tranquillo, il più beato Di qualunque altra Donna altr’huomo amasse. Che, s’avien pur che’l mio Signor mi lasse, Talhor’ à qualche degna opra chiamato; Dentro il mio core e bello298 & honorato, Qual’ egli è meco299 il suo sembiante stasse. Sì che havendo mai sempre in compagnia Tutto quel, che più amo e più mi piace; Turbarmi Amor’, ò sorte non poria.300 S’egli, che nel mio pianto si compiace, Con qualche nova e strana fantasia Non turbasse, ò rompesse la mia pace. 12 1

Chi vuol veder l’imagin del valore, L’albergo de la vera cortesia, Il nido di bellezza e leggiadria, La stanza de la gloria alta e d’honore. Venga à veder l’Illustre mio Signore, Dove si trova ciò che si disia, Fino il mio cor’, e fino l’alma mia, Che gli diè già, nè poi mi rese Amore. Ma, s’ella è Donna, non s’ affissi molto, Che resterà subitamente presa Fra mille meraviglie del bel volto.

The Rime Why would I ever want to see that ardor spent, well-known and resplendent as it is, and he the flower of all grace and beauty, breeding ground of courtesy and desire? Rather let heaven give me life so wherever the sun rises and sets my flame may be heard within such rhymes, and may some woman say where love’s stories count, “How she must have welcomed her destiny, written and sung by that worthy count!”301 12 0

If now and then some discord or contempt did not disturb my happy state, surely it would be the most tranquil, the most blessed known to any woman who ever loved a man. For if it happened that my lord should leave, called away to worthy tasks, inside my heart he’d linger, handsome and esteemed, just as if his very self were with me; so having always in my company all that I love and most enjoy, neither Love nor destiny could ever trouble me as long as he who takes such pleasure in my tears were not moved by some strange, new fantasy to shatter and disturb my sense of peace.302 12 1

Who wants to see the image of valor or the resting place of true courtesy, the birthplace of grace and beauty, where lofty glory and honor reside303— come my illustrious lord to see, where you can find all that you desire— even my heart, even my soul are there, Love gave them to him, and won’t return them to me. But if you’re a woman, don’t look too closely— for you’ll immediately be taken in by a thousand marvelous things in that face.

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Gaspara Stampa Ivi Amor’ ha la rete sempre tesa, Indi saetta, & ivi giace occolto, Quando vuol far qualche maggior’ impresa. 12 2

Quando io movo à mirar fissa & intenta Le ricchezze, e i tesor, ch’Amore e’l cielo Dentro ne l’alma, e fuor nel mortal velo Poser di lui, ch’ogn’altra luce ha spenta. Resto del mio martir tanto contenta, Sì paga del mio vivo ardente zelo, Che la ferita, e’l despietato telo, Che mi trafige il cor, non par che senta. Sol mi struggo e mi doglio, quando penso, Che da me tosto debba allontanarse Questo d’ogni mia gloria Abisso immenso. A` questo l’alma sol non può quetarse, A` ciò grida & esclama ogni mio senso O` tante indarno mie fatiche sparse.304 12 3

O` tante indarno mie fatiche sparse, O` tanti indarno miei sparsi sospiri; O` vivo foco, ò fè, che se ben miri, Di tal null’altra mai non alse, & arse. O` carte in van vergate, e da vergarse Per lodar quegli ardenti amati giri; O` speranze ministre de’ disiri, A` cui premio più degno dovea darse. Tutte ad un tratto ve ne porta il vento, Poi che da l’empio mio Signore stesso Con queste proprie orecchie dir mi sento, Che tanto pensa à me, quanto m’è presso, E partendo si parte in un momento Ogni membranza305 del mio Amor da esso.

The Rime Love keeps his nets there, always ready, that’s where he lies in stealth and shoots his darts when he wants to launch some great new exploit. 12 2

When I go to gaze intent and fixed on all the riches, all the treasures Love and heaven placed inside his soul and in that mortal flesh306 he wears that conquers every light, I find myself content with my martyred plight, so satisfied by this burning, living zeal that I hardly notice my wound’s not healed or the pitiless dart that transfixed my heart. Only this destroys me and makes me grieve: when I think that soon he has to leave me, immense abyss of all my glories.307 From this thought alone, the soul cannot find rest, so every sense I have cries out and shrieks, “In vain I’ve scattered so many labors!” 12 3

In vain I’ve scattered so many labors,308 in vain I’ve scattered so many sighs, O faith, O living fire: if you looked carefully, you’d find no other woman who froze and burned so. O pages still to write, or inscribed in vain, praising those beloved, burning spheres, O hopes that ministered to my desires, deserving of a prize more worthy than they’ve gained— all at once, the wind has carried them away, now that my wicked lord has said— I’ve heard him with these very ears— that he thinks of me only when I’m near, and when he goes, there goes from him all remembrance of the love I bear him.

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Gaspara Stampa 12 4

Signor, io sò, che’n me non son più viva Et veggo homai, ch’ancor’ in voi son morta; E l’ alma, ch’io vi diedi, non sopporta Che stia più meco vostra voglia schiva. E questo pianto, che da me deriva, Non sò chi’l mova per l’usata porta; Nè chi mova la mano e le sia scorta, Quando avien, che di voi tal volta scriva. Strano e fiero miracol veramente, Che altri sia viva, e non sia viva, e pera; E senta tutto, e non senta niente. Sì che può dirsi la mia forma vera, Da chi ben mira à sì vario accidente, Un’imagine d’Eco e di Chimera. 12 5

Vorrei, che mi dicessi un poco Amore, C’ho da far’ io309 con queste tue sorelle Temenza e gelosia? & ond’è, ch’elle Non sanno star se non dentro il mio core? Tu hai mille altre Donne, che l’ardore Provan, com’io, de l’empie tue facelle; Hor manda dunque queste à star con quelle, Fa, ch’un dì n’escan dal310 mio petto fore.311 Io ho ben, mi dice ei, mille persone A` chi mandarle, ma nessuna d’esse Ha, qual tu, da temer’ alta cagione. Le luci, ch’ami son le luci stesse, Che, per dar gelosia e passione A` tutto il mondo, la mia Madre elesse. 12 6

Così m’acqueto di temer contenta, E di viver d’ amara gelosia, Pur che l’amato lume lo consenta, Pur, che non spiaccia à lui la pena mia.

The Rime 12 4

Lord, I know I no longer have life in myself, but now I see that even in you I’m dead—so the soul I gave you won’t let me hold fast to your skittish desire.312 And these tears that seem from me to flow— I don’t know who transports them through their gate, or who moves this hand and guides it when it chances from time to time of you to write. A bizarre and terrible miracle, that’s clear: I seem alive to others, while I’m not—I’m dying; I feel everything and there’s nothing that I feel. One who studies such mutations with care could easily say my true form has become an image of Echo, or some chimera.313 12 5

“Would you like to talk to me a little, Love, about my dealings with your two sisters, Fear and Jealousy? And why it is that they have nowhere to call a home except my heart? You’ve a thousand other women who know as I do the ardor of your cursed torches: now send these sisters on to dwell with them, so one day they’ll flee from my own breast.” “Indeed,” he says, “there are a thousand others to whom they could be sent: but none of them has such great grounds for dread as you. The lights you love are the very ones with which my mother chose to spread to all the world jealousy and passion.” 12 6

So I’m pacified: content to fear, happy to live in embittered jealousy, as long as my beloved light consents, as long as my travails don’t displease him.

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Gaspara Stampa Perch’é più dolce, se per lui si stenta, Che gioir per ogn’altro non saria; Et io per me non fia mai che mi penta Di sì gradita e nobil prigionia. Perche capir’ un’alma tanto bene, Senza provarvi qualche cosa aversa Questa terrena vita non sostiene. Et io, che sono in tante pene immersa, Quando avanti al314 suo raggio almo mi viene Resto da quel, ch’esser solea diversa. 12 7

Sù speranza, sù fè, prendete l’armi Contra questa crudel nemica mia, Importuna, e spietata gelosia, Che cerca quanto può di vita trarmi. Diasi uscita a’ sospir, verghinsi carmi, Sì, che si sfoghi tanta pena ria; Trovisi dolce e grata compagnia, Sì, che possa il dolor men danno farmi, E se questo non basta, un’altro Amore Si prenda, e lassi questo, onde hora avampo, E così vinca l’un l’altro dolore. Perch’ogni fera in selva, in prato, in campo Cerca per natural forza e vigore Di tentar’ogni via per lo suo scampo. 12 8

S’io’l dissi mai Signor, che mi sia tolto L’arder per voi, com’ ardo in fiamma viva; S’io’l dissi mai, ch’io resti d’ amar priva, E resti il cor del suo bel laccio sciolto. S’ io’l dissi mai, che’l lume del bel volto Di cui convien, ch’ogn’hor ragioni, e scriva, A` la mia luce di tutt’ altro schiva Non si mostri giamai poco, nè molto. S’io’l dissi mai, che gli huomini à vicenda Tutti, e li Dei Fortuna disdegnosa A` mio danno, à ruina ultima accenda;

The Rime Because it’s far sweeter to struggle for him than to find joy in the arms of another, and as for myself, I’ll never regret that I dwell in such a welcome prison— these earthly lives of ours would never let us grasp such great delights without experiencing something unpleasant. And I, immersed in suffering so painful, find myself changed from my usual self whenever his bright lights come before me. 12 7

Up, hope, onward, faith—and arm yourselves against this cruel enemy of mine, pitiless and importunate jealousy, who tries to end my life as best she can. Give way to sighs, take up the pen for poems, so that such evil pain can find release; seek out companions, sweet and pleasing, so that this sorrow will hurt me less. And if that’s not enough, another love we’ll take, and leave this one for which I burn, and so one grief will defeat another. A beast trapped in the wood, a pasture, a field, will use its natural force and strength to find any way that it can to escape. 12 8

If ever, lord, I asked to be released315 from this passion for you, as I burn in lively flame; if ever I asked to be spared of love, my heart undone of its handsome snare; if ever I asked that the glow of that face of which I write and talk every hour never show itself again, much or a little, to my own light, of all others disdainful— if ever I asked for this, let gods and men alike inspire contemptuous fortune to work to my harm and total ruin.

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Gaspara Stampa Ma, s’io nol dissi, e non feci mai cosa Degna del vostro sdegno, homai si renda La vita mia, qual fu lieta e gioiosa. 12 9

O` mia sventura, ò mio perverso fato, O` sententia nemica del mio bene; Poi che senza mia colpa mi conviene Portar la pena de l’altrui peccato. Quando si vide mai reo condannato A` la morte, à l’essilio, à le catene Per l’altrui fallo, e per maggior sue pene Senza esser dal suo giudice ascoltato? Io griderò Signor tanto, e sì forte, Che, se non li vorrete ascoltar voi, Udranno i gridi miei Amore, ò Morte, E forse alcun pietoso dirà poi Questa locò per sua contraria sorte In troppo crudo luogo316 i pensier suoi. 13 0

Qual fu di me giamai sotto la Luna Donna più sventurata e più confusa, Poi che’l mio Sole, il mio Signor m’accusa Di cosa, ov’io non ho già colpa alcuna? E per farmi dolente à via più d’una Guisa, non vuol ch’io possa far mia scusa, Vuol, ch’io tenga lo stil, la bocca chiusa Come muto, ò fanciul picciolo in cuna. A` qual più sventurato, e tristo reo Di non poter’ usar la sua difesa Sì dura legge al mondo unqua si deo? Tal’è la fiamma, ond’haime Amor’ accessa,317 Tal’è il mio fato dispietato e reo, Tal’è’l laccio crudel, con che m’hai presa.

The Rime But if I never said this and never did a thing worthy of your disdain, then give me back the life I knew, happy and content. 12 9

O my misfortune, O my unkind fate, O verdict so harsh from the man I love— though blameless, I find myself constrained to bear the blame for another’s crime. When have you ever seen someone condemned to death, to exile, or to chains for what another’s done, and to increase the pain, to be denied a hearing from a judge? Lord, I’ll protest so long and so loud that even if you refuse to listen, Love and Death alike will hear my shouts, and perhaps someone compassionate will say, “This woman plagued by adverse fate harbored her thoughts in far too cruel a place.” 13 0

Has the moon ever seen a woman more unfortunate than I and more confused, now that my lord, my very sun, accuses me of things for which I bear no blame? And to make me suffer yet more pain, he won’t let me make excuses for myself: I should stop my pen and hold my tongue as though I were a babe in arms, or mute. To what criminal—wretched, unlucky— has a harsher law318 been applied than this: I can’t rise up to my own defense? This is the fire you have lit me, Love; this is my fate, wicked and pitiless; this is the cruel snare in which I’m taken.

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Gaspara Stampa 13 1

Poi che da voi Signor m’è pur vietato Che dir le vere mie ragion non possa, Per consumarmi le midolle e l’ossa Con questo novo stratio e non usato. Fin che spirto havrò in corpo, et alma, e fiato Fin che questa mia lingua haverà possa, Griderò sola in qualche speco, ò fossa La mia innocentia, e più l’altrui peccato. E forse, ch’averrà quello, ch’avenne De la Zampogna di chi vide Mida, Che sonò poi, quel ch’egli ascoso tenne. L’innocentia Signor troppo in se fida, Troppo è veloce à metter’ ale e penne, E quanto’più la chiude altri, più grida. 13 2

Quando, io dimando nel mio pianto Amore, Che così male il mio parlar’ ascolta, Mille fiate il dì non una volta. Che mi fere e trafige à tutte l’hore. Come esser può, s’io diedi l’alma e’l core Al mio Signor dal dì ch’à me l’ho tolta, E se ogni cosa dentro à lui raccolta E319 riso e gioia è scema di dolore? S’io sento320 gelosia fredda e temenza, E d’ allegrezza e gioia resti priva? S’io vivo in lui e in me di me son senza?321 Vò, che tu mora al bene, & al mal viva Mi risponde egli, in ultima sentenza, Questo ti basti, e questo fa che scriva. 13 3

Cosi senza haver vita vivo in pene E vivendo, ov’è gioia, non son lieta, Così fra viva, e morta Amor mi tiene, E vita, e morte ad un tempo mi vieta.

The Rime 13 1 3 2 2

Since, lord, you have forbidden me from speaking out the truth—and thus condemned my bones and very marrow to consume themselves in this new, unheard-of torture— while this body has spirit, soul, or breath, as long as my tongue has any force left, in some cave or pit my innocence I’ll cry out, and what’s more, others’ sins. And perhaps what will happen then is this: the reeds of the barber who saw Midas’s ears323 sang out the secret he had kept concealed. Innocence trusts in itself so much, lord, that it’s quick to spread its wings;324 the more that others seek to silence it, the more it shouts. 13 2

When I plead with Love to tell me why he listens with such ill will to all I say— not once but a thousand times a day, he wounds me and transfixes me each hour— “How can it be, if I gave heart and soul to my lord on the day I was taken away from myself, and if all things within him are laughter and joy, untouched by sorrow, that I feel such cold jealousy and fear, and of happiness and joy am deprived, if I live in him, while I’ve lost myself?” “Die to the good, to the bad be alive,” he gives me as his final verdict; “that’s enough for you, and that’s what you should write.” 13 3

So325 though I’m not alive, I live in suffering, and living where there’s joy, I’m not content. So Love keeps me here, alive and dead, and withholds from me both life and death.

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Gaspara Stampa Tal la sua sorte à ogn’un nascendo viene, Tal fu il mio aspro e mio crudo pianeta, Di sì rio frutto in sitibonde arene Senza mai sparger seme avien ch’io mieta. E s’io voglio per me stessa finire Con la vita i tormenti, non m’è dato, Che senza vita un huom non può colpire;326 Qual fine Amore e’l ciel m’habbia serbato Io non sò, lassa, e non posso ridire; Sò ben, ch’io sono in un misero stato. 13 4

Queste rive, ch’amai sì caldamente, Rive sovra tutt’altre alme, e beate, Fido albergo di cara libertate, Nido d’illustre, e riposata gente. Chi’l crederia? mi son novellamente Sì fattamente fuor del cor’ andate; Che di passar con lor le mie giornate Mi doglio meco, e mi pento sovente. E tutti i miei disiri, e i miei pensieri Mirano à quel bel Colle, ove hora stanza Il mio Signor’, e i suoi due lumi alteri. Quivi per acquetar la desianza Spenderei tutta seco volentieri Questa vita penosa, che m’avanza. 13 5

Quanto è questo fatto hora aspro, e selvaggio Di dolce, ch’esser suole, e lieto mare, Dopo il vostro da noi allontanare Quanta compassion’ à me propria haggio. Tanto ho invidia al bel Colle, al Pino al Faggio, Che gli fanno ombra; al327 fiume, che bagnare Gli suole il piede, & à me nome dare, Che godono hor del vostro vivo raggio. E se non che egli è pur quell’il bel nido, Dove nasceste; io pregherei, che fesse Il ciel lui hermo, lor secchi, e quel torbo;

The Rime Thus everyone who’s born has his own fate, and mine is this, sent from a cruel and bitter planet: though I’ve never scattered seeds, I harvest evil fruit in thirsting deserts. And if I want to finish myself off and end my torments and my life, it’s not mine to do, for one who has no life can’t end it. What love and heaven have preserved me for, I don’t know, alas, and can’t possibly say. I know only this, I’m in a desperate way. 13 4

These blessed shores I loved so passionately, more blessed and divine than any other, the faithful resting place of liberty and cradle of renowned and peaceful people328— who would believe it?—lately they’ve become so distanced from my heart that I repent the days I spend with them and grieve within myself continuously. All my desires and all my thoughts are turned now to that hill where dwells my lord, and with him his two haughty lights. That’s where I’d go to quiet such desire, willingly I’d spend with him all of what is left to me of such a painful life. 13 5

How wild and savage it’s now become— this sea once so delightful and so sweet! Since you’ve parted from us, I’ve felt as much compassion for myself as I feel envy for the lovely hill, the pines, the beech that brings you shade, the river that often bathes your feet and gives my name to me,329 all of which enjoy your lovely rays. And were it not that it’s the handsome nest that bore you, I’d beg heaven to transform it to a desert, with dry plants and clouded waters,

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Gaspara Stampa Per questo io resto, e prego voi ò fido Del mio cor speglio, ove mi tergo e forbo; A` tornar tosto, e serbar le promesse. 13 6

Chi mi darà di lagrime un gran fonte, Ch’io sfoghi à pieno il mio dolor’immenso, Che m’ assale, e trafige, quando io penso Al poco amor del mio spietato Conte? Tosto, che’l Sol de gli occhi suoi tramonte A` gli occhi miei, a’ quali è raro accenso, Tanto ha di me non più memoria, ò senso, Quanto una Tigre del più aspro monte. Ben’è’l mio stato, e’l destin crudo e fero, Che tosto, che da me vi dipartite, Voi cangiate Signor luogo e pensiero. Io ti scriverò subito, mi dite, Ch’io sarò giunto al loco, ove andar chero,330 E poi la vostra fede à me tradite. 13 7

Prendete il volo tutti in quella parte Ove sta chi può dar fine a’ miei mali Col raggio sol de’ lumi suoi fatali, O` sospir’, ò querele al vento sparte. E con quanta eloquentia, e con quant’arte Vi detterà colui, c’ha face e strali Dite à la vita mia pietose, quali Dì provo, quando egli da noi si parte. E se331 con vostri humili modi adorni Potrete far pietoso il vago aspetto Sì, ch’à star’ hoggimai con noi ritorni. Non tornate più voi, ch’io non v’aspetto, Rimanetevi pur’ in que’ soggiorni; E venga à me con lui gioia e diletto.

The Rime but I desist; and pray to you, O faithful mirror of my heart, where I am purified, to come back soon and hold fast to your promise. 13 6

Who will give to me of tears a great fountain so I might unleash this enormous grief that assails and pierces whenever I think on the stingy love of my pitiless count? No sooner does the sun of his eyes (so rarely lit) cast dusk on mine than he’s lost all memory and sense of me, like a tiger in the wildest mountains. Such is my state, lord, my wild, harsh destiny: no sooner have you left me than you change not just your dwelling place but your mind.332 “I’ll write at once,” you say, “as soon as I’ve returned to the site that I hold most dear.” And then you instantly betray me. 13 7

Take flight, all you laments and sighs I’ve spread to the wind, and go— to find the man who can end my woes with merely the flash of his fatal eyes. And with all the eloquence and all the art he’ll dictate to you, the god of torches and darts,333 tell him how miserable my life, and all I’ve gone through since the day he departed. And if, adorned with humble words, you can spark compassion in that charming face, so that he returns with us to reside, don’t come back for I won’t expect you: sojourn on alone by yourselves, and may he return to me bringing joy and delight.

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Gaspara Stampa 13 8

Sacro fiume beato, à le cui sponde Scorgi l’ antico, vago, & alto Colle, Ove nacque la pianta, c’hoggi estolle Al Ciel’ i rami, e le famose fronde, Ben fur le stelle à i tuoi334 desir seconde, Che’l sì spesso veder non ti si tolle, E’l far talhor la bella pianta molle, Ch’à me lassa sì spesso si nasconde. Tu mi dai nome, & io vedrò se’n carte Posso con le virtù, che la mi rende Al secol, che verrà famoso farte. O` pur non turbi il ciel, cui sempre offende La gioia mia, i miei disegni in parte; Altri ch’ella so ben, che non m’intende. 13 9

Fiume, che dal mio nome, nome prendi, E bagni i piedi à l’ alto Colle e vago, Ove nacque il famoso & alto Fago, De le cui fronde alto disio m’accende.335 Tu vedi spesso lui, spesso l’intendi, E talhor rendi la sua bella imago; Et à me, che d’altr’ ombra non m’appago, Così sovente, lassa, lo contendi. Pur non ostante, che la nobil fronde, Ond’io piansi, e cantai con più d’ un verso, La tua mercè, sì spesso lo nasconde. Prego’l Ciel, ch’altra pioggia, ò nembo avverso Non turbi Anasso mai le tue chiar’ onde, Se non quel sol, che da quest’occhi verso. 14 0

O` rive, ò lidi, che già foste porto, De le dolci amorose mie fatiche, Mentre stavan con noi le luci amiche, Che sempre accese ne l’interno porto.

The Rime 13 8

Holy, blessed river,336 along whose banks you see that ancient hill, so lovely, so high, where the tree was born that lifts to the sky its branches and famous greenery— the stars were complicit in your desires to see that plant so often near you, so you might on occasion bathe its beauty that from me, alas, is so often concealed. You gave me my name, and in these pages I’ll try to use the skill that’s given me to make you famous in centuries to come. Oh, may not heaven, so offended by my joy, disturb my designs, which none understand except for my tree. 13 9

River who take your name from mine337 and bathe the feet of that high, pleasant hill where the renowned and worthy beech was born whose leaves awaken in me such desire— you see him often, often you hear him, and at times you mirror his sweet image, contending with me for that very shadow, alas, with which alone I’m satisfied. So even though that noble foliage for which I cried and sang in many verses338 so frequently hides him, thanks to you, I ask heaven: may no rain or hostile cloud, my dear Anasso, darken your clear waves, other than the waters my own eyes pour forth. 14 0

O banks, O shores, you harbored once my sweet and amorous labors, while those lights I harbor burning in my heart were our friends when they spent time with us;339

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Gaspara Stampa Quanta mi deste già gioia e conforto, Tanto mi sete adhor adhor nemiche, Poi che’l mio Sol (lassa convien che’l diche) Voi, et me ha lasciato à si gran torto. Io cangerei con voi campagne, e boschi, E colli, e fiumi là, dove dimora, Chi partendo lasciò gli occhi miei340 foschi. E di tornar non fa pensier’ ancora, Non ostante crudel, che ben conoschi, Che se stai341 molto converrà ch’io mora. 14 1

Sovente Amor, che mi stà sempre à lato Mi dice, Miserella quale hor fia, La vita tua, poi che da te si svia Lui, che soleva far lieto il tuo stato? 342 Io gli rispondo; E tu, perche mostrato L’hai à questi occhi, quando’l vidi pria Se ne dovea seguir la morte mia, Subito visto, e subito rubbato? Ond’ ei si tace, avvisto del suo fallo, Et io mi resto preda del mio male, Quanto mesta e dogliosa, il mio cor sallo. E perch’io preghi, il mio pregar non vale, Perciò che à chi devrebbe, & à chi fallo, O` poco, ò nulla del mio danno cale. 14 2

Rimandatemi il cor’ empio tiranno, Ch’ à sì gran torto havete et istratiate, E di lui, e di me quel proprio fate, Che le Tigri, e i Leon di Cerva fanno. Son passati otto giorni, à me un’anno, Ch’io non ho vostre lettre, od imbasciate, Contra343 le fe, che voi m’havete date, O` fonte di valor Conte, e d’inganno. Credete ch’io sia Ercol’, ò Sansone, A` poter sostener tanto dolore Giovane, e Donna, e fuor d’ ogni ragione

The Rime the joy and comfort you brought me then are gone: now you’re my enemies since my sun (alas, I must say it) has left you and me both, and so unjustly. I’d gladly exchange you for forests and fields, the hills and rivers where dwells the man who darkened my eyes when he departed,344 and gives no thought to coming back again, even though he knows full well—cruel as he is— that I will die if he’s away much longer. 14 1

Often Love, who’s always by my side, will ask me: “Wretched little woman, what’s your life worth now, since he is gone who used to make your days so joyous?” And I’ll respond: “And you! Why did you bring him before these eyes, when well you knew that death would follow: seen today, but snatched away tomorrow?” He’s quiet then, aware of his fault; and I remain a hostage to misfortune; how much I grieve, my heart alone knows! And although I pray, my prayers are worthless; neither he who should nor he who could bring help cares a fig for what I suffer. 14 2

Give me back my heart, you evil tyrant, which you do wrong to take and torture, so doing to my poor heart and to me what tigers and lions will do with a doe. Eight days have passed, to me a year of woe, since I’ve had any letters or embassies,345 contrary to the promises that you gave me, Count, you font of valor and trickery. Do you think I’m a Hercules or Samson346 to be able to withstand such grief? But I’m young, and a woman, and out of my mind,

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Gaspara Stampa Massime essendo qui senza’l mio core, E senza voi à mia difensione, Onde mi suol venir forza, e vigore? 14 3

Quando fia mai, ch’io vegga un dì pietosi Gli occhi, che per mio mal da prima vidi In queste rive d’ Adria, in questi lidi, Dov’ Amor mille lacci haveva ascosi? Quando fia mai, che libera dir’ osi Date bando a’ miei pianti, & a’ miei gridi Hor ti conforta anima cara, hor ridi, Hor tempo è ben che godi, e che riposi?347 Lassa non sò, sò ben che adhora adhora Ho cercato placar’ ò lui, ò Morte, E nè questa, nè quello ho mosso ancora. Tal’ è misera il fin, tal’ è la sorte Di chi troppo altamente s’innamora; Donne mie siate à l’invescarvi accorte. 14 4

Ricorro à voi luci beate, e dive, A` voi, che sete le mie fide scorte; Dapoi che’l cielo, Amor, Fortuna, e sorte, Sono à i soccorsi miei sì tardi, e schive. Se per me in voi si spera, e’n voi si vive, Come avien, che per voi pur si comporte A` star lunge da me quest’hore corte, Che’l mio ben la pietà vostra prescrive? Deh non state hoggimai da me più lunge; Fate, che questo breve spatio sia Concesso à me d’havervi sempre presso. Che l’ ardente disio tanto mi punge, Che certo finirà la vita mia, Se non m’è’l vagheggiarvi ogn’hor concesso.

The Rime especially when I’m without my heart and without you for my defense—from whom I’m accustomed to drawing strength and might. 14 3

When will it be that I’ll see those eyes become compassionate348—those eyes (to my misfortune) I first glimpsed on Adria’s shores, on banks where Love had concealed a thousand snares? When will it be that I can freely dare say this, my cries and sorrow banished: “Now console yourself, dear soul, and laugh, for now it’s time for joy and an end to care?” Alas, I don’t know; I know instead from time to time I’ve sought to placate him and death alike, and neither one has yielded. Wretched me: this is the end, this is the fate of those who love above their station. My ladies, careful not to find yourselves ensnared. 14 4

I run to you, blessed lights and divine,349 to you who are my faithful guides, since heaven, fortune, love, and fate come to my aid reluctantly—and so late. If in you I hope and in you I live, how can you comport yourself like this, straying far from me in these few brief hours that your pity for me might at least prescribe? Ah, don’t stay away from me any longer, but ensure that for this brief space of time you’ll let me have you always about, for I’m so stung by this burning desire that surely it will finish off this life of mine if you don’t let me gaze on you at all hours.

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Gaspara Stampa 14 5

Liete campagne, dolci colli ameni, Verdi prati, alte selve, herbose rive, Serrata valle, ov’ hor soggiorna e vive Chi può far’ i miei dì foschi, e sereni. Antri d’ombre amorose, e fresche pieni Ove raggio di Sol non è ch’arrive; Vaghi augei, chiari fiumi, et aure estive, Vezzose Ninfe, Pan, Fauni, e Sileni. O` rendetemi tosto il mio Signore Voi, che l’havete; ò fategli almen conta La mia pena, e l’acerbo aspro dolore; Ditegli, che la vita mia tramonta, S’homai fra pochi giorni, anzi poc’hore Il suo raggio à quest’ occhi non sormonta. 14 6

Come posso far pace col desio, O` farvi tregua, poi ch’egli pur vuole, Non essendo qui nosco il suo bel Sole, Tranquillo porto, e Sole al viver mio? Egli fa giorno al suo Colle natio, Come à chi nulla, ò poco incresce, e duole O`’l morir nostro, ò’l pianto, ò le parole Lassa, ch’io nacqui sotto destin rio. Là dove converrà, che tosto ceda A morte l’alma, ò tosto à noi ritorni La beltà, ch’al mio mal non par che creda. Tal qui fra questi d’ Adria almi soggiorni, Io misera Anassilla d’ Amor preda Notte e dì chiamo i miei due lumi adorni. 14 7

Hor sopra il forte, e veloce destriero Io dico meco segue Lepre, ò Cerva Il mio bel Sole, hor rapida caterva D’uccelli con falconi, ò con sparviero.

The Rime 14 5

Sweet welcoming hills and smiling fields,350 verdant meadows, lofty forests, grassy banks and sheltered valley,351 where now sojourns and dwells the man who makes my days gloomy or serene, caves full of cool and amorous shadows where rays of sunlight never find their way, lovely birds, fresh streams, and summer breezes, charming nymphs, and Pan, Fauns and Silenus,352 O you who hold my lord, return him soon to me, or send him an account353 of my distress and this harsh and bitter sorrow: tell him my life’s approaching twilight if several days from now—or even hours— he doesn’t cast his light upon these eyes. 14 6

How can I make peace with my desire or strike a truce—since he wants one— when we don’t even have with us his lovely sun and mine, tranquil harbor of my life? To his native hill he brings the day while caring little or at all if we die, heedless of what we say, or cry; alas that I was born to such a cursed fate! Either this soul will quickly succumb to death, or he should soon return to us that beauty which denies that I’m in pain. Thus here among the divine haunts of Adria, I, Anassilla, prey to love, call out night and day for my two lovely lights. 14 7

Now my handsome sun’s astride his swift and sturdy horse, I tell myself, pursuing stag or hare, or with his hawks and falcons following the rapid course of birds.

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Gaspara Stampa Hor’ assal con lo spiedo il Cignal fiero, Quando animoso il suo venir’ osserva; Hor’ à l’opre di Marte, hor di Minerva Rivolge l’alto e saggio suo pensiero. Hor mangia, hor dorme, hor leva, et hor ragiona, Hor vagheggia il suo Colle, hor con l’ humana Sua maniera trattiene ogni persona.354 Così Signor, bench’io vi sia lontana, Sì fattamente Amor mi punge, e sprona; Ch’ogni vostr’ opra m’è presente, e piana. 14 8

Se ’l Cielo ha qui di noi perpetua cura, E partisce ad ogn’un, come conviene, Che meraviglia è s’à me diede pene E mi die vita dispietata e dura? E se’l mio Sol di me poco si cura? Se mi vede morir’, e lo sostiene? Ei vince il Sol con sue luci serene Illustre e bel, per studio, e per Natura. A` lui convien regnare, à me servire Vil Donna e bassa; e parmi ancora troppo, Ch’egli non sdegni il mio per lui patire. Queste ragioni, & altre insieme aggroppo Meco talhor per dar tregua al martire Col desir sempre presto, e’l poter zoppo. 14 9

Si come tu m’insegni à sospirare, D’arder355 di fiamma tal, che Etna pareggia; Pianger di pianto tal, che se n’aveggia Homai quest’onda, e cresca questo mare. Insegnami anche Amor tu che’l puoi fare, Come men duro il mio Signor far deggia; Come quando adivien, che pietà chieggia, Possa placarlo al suon del mio pregare. Ch’io ti perdono e danni, e stratij, e torti, Che tu m’hai fatto, & fai tanti, e sì gravi, Ch’io non sò come il Ciel te lo comporti.

The Rime And now he tracks, heart high, with spear in hand the fierce, wild boar, awaiting him at the pass; now he’ll turn his wise and elevated thoughts to the works of Minerva or of Mars.356 Now he’s eating, sleeping; now he’s up conversing; now gazing at his hillside, now engaging others in that humane way he has with people. Thus, lord, although I’m nowhere near you, this is how Love will push and spur me to envision all you do as though you’re here. 14 8

If heaven perpetually watches over us and doles out destinies to each as is fitting, what marvel is it if my lot is torment and the life I’m given cruel and pitiless? Or if my sun takes little heed of me? If he sees me die and doesn’t complain— he who conquers the sun with his tranquil gaze, and whom nature makes handsome and study famous? It’s fitting that he rule, while I, a poor and abject woman, serve him; I can’t believe he’s not offended by my suffering for him. These reasons I give myself—and more—to find relief from my affliction: desires always at the ready, while their power limps behind.357 14 9

Since you’ve taught me how to sigh and burn with such a flame that it rivals Etna, to pour out tears so copious one seems to see a wave rise up, a sea increasing— then teach me, Love, for I know you can, how my lord can be made less unyielding, how when now and then I ask for pity the mere sound of my prayers might make him calm. I’d pardon you the hurt, the grief, the wrongs you’ve made me suffer and still do, so grave, so many, why does heaven permit it?

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Gaspara Stampa Perche non fia più pena, che m’aggravi; Pur ch’io faccia pietosi, e faccia accorti Gli occhi, che del mio cor’hanno le chiavi. 15 0

Larghe vene d’humor, vive scintille, Che m’ardete, e bagnate in acqua, e’n fiamma Sì, che di me homai non resta dramma, Che non sia tutta pelaghi, e faville; Fate, che senta almeno una di mille Aspre mie pene, chi mi lava e’nfiamma, Né di foco, che m’arda sente squamma, Nè d’humor goccia, che da gli occhi stille. Non son, mi dice Amor, le ragion pari, Egli è nobile, e bel, tu brutta, et vile, Egli larghi, tu hai li cieli avari. Gioia e tormento, al merto tuo simile Convien, ch’io doni,358 in questi stati vari, Io peno, ei gode; Amor segue suo stile. 15 1

Piangete Donne, e con voi pianga Amore, Poi che non piange lui, che m’ha ferita; Sì che l’ alma farà tosto partita Da questo corpo tormentato fuore. E se mai da pietoso, e gentil core L’estrema voce altrui fu essaudita; Dapoi ch’io sarò morta, e sepelita Scrivete la cagion del mio dolore. Per amar molto, et esser poco amata, Visse, e morì infelice, & hor qui giace La piu fidel’ amante, che sia stata. Pregale viator riposo, e pace; Et impara da lei sì mal trattata, A` non seguir’ un cor’ crudo, e fugace.359

The Rime For there’s no suffering I couldn’t stand if I could spark compassion and interest in eyes that hold the keys to my heart. 15 0

Vast springs of tears and living sparks that burn me and bathe me in water and flame, so not a single ounce of me remains that’s not transformed to fire and lake:360 make him feel at least one of the thousand pains that so drenches and scorches me; not even a hair on his skin feels the flame, not even one teardrop falls from his eyes. But Love tells me this: “You two are not the same: he’s noble and handsome, you’re ugly and base, with him, heaven’s generous, stingy with you. I dispense pleasure and torment based solely on merit.” And in these different states, I suffer, he’s happy: these are Love’s ways. 15 1

Weep, ladies, and may Love weep with you361 (since he who wounded me does not cry), so that my soul will more quickly take flight beyond this tormented body. And if someone with a compassionate heart ever fulfilled another’s dying wishes, then when I am dead and buried, please record this reason for my sorrow: She loved much and was unloved in turn; for this she lived and died unhappy, now she lies here, most faithful lover of all time. Traveler, I pray you, stop and find peace,362 and learn from her who was so poorly treated: never follow a heart that’s fickle and cruel.

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Gaspara Stampa 15 2

Io vorrei pur, ch’ Amor dicesse; come Debbo seguirlo, e con qual’arte, e stile Possa sperar di far chi m’arde humile, O` diporr’io queste amorose some. Io ho le forze homai sì fiacche e dome, Sì paventosa363 son tornata e vile; Che, quasi ad Eco imagine simile, Di Donna serbo sol la voce e’l nome, Nè perche le vestigia del mio Sole Io segua sempre, come fece anch’ella, E risponda à l’estreme sue parole, Posso indur la mia fiera, e dura stella Ad’oprar si, ch’ei crudo, come suole, S’arresti al suon di mia stanca favella. 15 3

Se poteste Signor con l’occhio interno Penetrar’ i segreti del mio core, Come vedete queste ombre di fuore, Apertamente con questo occhio esterno. Vi vedreste le pene de l’Inferno, Un’abisso infinito di dolore, Quanta mai gelosia, quanto timore Amor’ha dato, ò può dar’ in eterno. Et vedreste voi stesso seder donno In mezo à l’ alma, cui tanti tormenti Non han potuto mai cavarvi, ò ponno. E tutti altri disir vedreste spenti, Od oppressi da grave364 et alto sonno, E sol quei d’haver voi, desti & ardenti. 15 4

Stratiami Amor se sai, dammi tormento, Tommi pur lui, che vorrei sempre presso, Tommi pur crudo, e disleal con esso Ogni mia pace, & ogni mio contento.

The Rime 15 2

I wish Love would tell me how I ought to follow him, what art or style to use in hopes of humbling him who burns me so— or how I might lighten this amorous load. By now my forces are so depleted, so cowardly I’ve become, so full of dread, I feel I’ve practically turned into Echo’s image, a woman only in word and name.365 Nor, although I might follow forever the traces of my sun, as did she, and answered with the endings of his words, can I convince my harsh and savage star to ensure that though he’s heartless, he might pause at the sound of my faltering speech. 15 3

Lord, if with the inner eye of your soul you could discern the secrets of my heart as easily as your outward eye detects these shadows that hover here without, you’d see in there the sufferings of hell,366 an infinite abyss of pain, and all the jealousy and terror Love has given or could give for eternity. And you’d see yourself, presiding lord367 over my soul, you whom so many torments have never softened, and never will. You’d see all other passions silenced or spent by a deep and heavy sleep, save those that want you: they alone are wakened, and they burn. 15 4

Tear me to pieces, Love, torment me, take away from me the man I’d like beside me always—take him, cruel and unfaithful, along with my peace and my contentment.

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Gaspara Stampa Fammi pur mesta, e lieta in un momento; Dammi più morti con un colpo stesso; Fammi essempio infelice del mio sesso, Che per ciò di seguirti non mi pento. Perche, volgendo à quei lumi il pensiero; Che vicini, e lontani mi son scorta; Per l’aspro periglioso tuo sentiero; Move da lor virtù, che’l cor conforta, Sì che, quanto più sei crudele, e fiero, Tanto più facilmente ei ti comporta. 15 5

Due anni, e più ha già voltato il cielo, Ch’ io restai presa à l’ amoroso visco, Per una beltà tal, che dirlo ardisco, Simil mai non si vide in mortal velo: Per questo io la divolgo, e non la celo, E non mi pento, anzi glorio, e gioisco; E, se donna giamai gradì, gradisco Questa fiamma amorosa, e questo gelo. E duolmi sol, se sarà mai quell’hora, Che da me si disciolga, e leghi altronde La beltà, ch’ogni cosa arde, e inamora. E se Morte à chi prega unqua risponde, La prego, che permetta, anzi ch’io mora, Che non vegga d’altrui l’amata fronde. 15 6

Mentr’io penso dolente à l’hora breve, Che del suo lume fien mie luci prive; Questi lidi lo sanno, e queste rive, Io mi disfaccio, com’al Sol la neve, E quel, che par che più m’annoi, e aggrave,368 E`, che’l termine mio tant’oltra arrive; E che prima di vita non mi prive Morte, à tutt’altri grave, à me sol lieve. Che, s’io morissi innanzi à tanta doglia, L’anima andrebbe altrove consolata, Lasciando qui la sua terrena spoglia.

The Rime In an instant make me glad and wretched, with a single blow bring on several deaths, make me a tragic example of my sex:369 despite this, I’m not sorry I followed you. For turning my thought to those very lights that near and far away are still my guides on this harsh and dangerous path of yours, my heart finds comfort, as their virtues move my mind to know the fiercer and more cruel you are, the more easily it can withstand you. 15 5

Two years and more370 the heavens have spun since I was caught by that amorous snare, prey to beauty that—to say it, do I dare?— has never yet been seen in mortal flesh. So here’s where I divulge this, I can’t hide it, and I won’t repent—rather, it’s my glory and my joy: if any woman ever so enjoyed the fire and ice of love, it’s me, and this alone would pain me, if by chance the beauty that makes all things burn and love loosed itself from me and took root elsewhere. So I ask Death, if she answers prayers: before I die, never let me see that beloved hair become another’s.371 15 6

When grieving I think on the hours to come when my eyes will be deprived of his light (these shores know, and so do these banks, how I undo myself like snow beneath the sun),372 what worries and causes me most strife is that my last day will arrive too late, and that death will not deprive me first of life, and so bring comfort where others find sad fate. For if I died before I knew such grief, my soul at least would fly off consoled, leaving here below its earthly spoils;

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Gaspara Stampa Ma Fortuna, & Amor m’hanno lasciata; Perche morend’ ogn’hora più mi doglia, Questa vita penosa, che m’è data. 15 7

A` che pur dir’ ò mio dolce Signore, Ch’esca frutto da me di lode degno? A` che alzarmi à sì gradito segno? A` che scrivendo procacciarmi honore? Se da quel dì, ch’entrar mi fece Amore Con l’ arme de’ vostr’occhi entro’l suo regno; Voi movete lo stil, l’arte, l’ingegno, Sensi, spirti, pensier, voglie, alma, e core? Se da me dunque nasce cosa buona, E` vostra non è mia, voi mi guidate, A` voi si deve il pregio,373 e la corona. Voi, non me da qui in dietro homai lodate Di quanto per me s’opra, e si ragiona, Che l’ingegno, e lo stil Signor mi date. 15 8

Deh lasciate Signor le maggior cure D’ir procacciando in questa età fiorita Con fatiche, e periglio de la vita Alti pregi, alti honori, alte venture. E in questi colli, in queste alme e sicure Valli, e campagne, dove Amor n’invita Viviamo insieme vita alma e gradita, Fin che’l Sol de’ nostr’occhi al fin s’oscure. Perche tante fatiche, e tanti stenti Fan la vita più dura; e tanti’honori Restan per Morte poi subito spenti. Qui coglieremo à tempo e rose, e fiori, Et herbe, e frutti, e con dolci concenti Canterem con gli uccelli i nostri Amori.

The Rime but fortune and Love have left to me— so that dying each hour my sorrow increases—this heavy life that I am given. 15 7

Oh, what could I possibly say, my sweet lord, so I might reap some fruit worthy of praise, so to such a dear target I might raise myself up and gain some honor in writing— if since the day Love made me enter your realm, armed with your eyes, you alone motivate my style, my art, my wit, my senses, spirits, thoughts, desires, my very heart and soul?374 If anything of worth from me is born, none of it is mine, but yours; you guide me, and to you goes all of value, and the crown. From this time on, praise me no more for what comes forth, for what I do or say: Lord, you’ve given me my talent and my style. 15 8

Then leave off, lord, these heavy cares in this flowering season as you labor and chase after prizes, honors, and adventures, and all at great peril to your life; instead let’s live together in these hills,375 these happy valleys and fields where love invites to a life that’s pleasing and divine, until the sun at last brings darkness to our eyes. Such trial and exertion render life more difficult, and all these honors may linger but with death they’re quickly spent. Here we can gather roses and flowers, herbs and fruits with time to spare, and with sweet conceits we’ll sing with the birds of our love.

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Gaspara Stampa 15 9

Quella febre amorosa, che m’atterra Due anni, e più; e quel gravoso incarco, Ch’io sento, poi ch’ Amor mi prese al varco Di duo begli occhi, onde l’uscir mi serra; Potea bastare à farmi andar sotterra, Lasciar lo spirto del suo corpo scarco, Senza voler, ch’oltra i suoi strali, e l’arco, Altra febre, altro mal mi fesse guerra. Padre del ciel tu vedi in quante pene Questo misero spirto, e questa scorza A` tormentare Amor’, e febre viene. Di queste febri, ò l’una,376 ò l’altra smorza, Che due tanti nemici non sostiene, Donna sì frale, e di sì poca forza. 16 0

Care stelle, che tutte insieme insieme Con Cupido, e Ciprigna vaghe, e pronte Deste il mio cor’ à quell’altero Conte, Che per premio, m’ha poi tolto la speme. Poi che vedete, ch’ei, che nulla teme Contra voi, contra me alza la fronte, Vendicate le vostre, e le mie onte Con vendette più crude, e più supreme. E questo sia non che’l mio cor mi renda, Ma mi dia il suo, e rendami la spene, E così si dia otta per vicenda. Fate, che’n quelle, ond’io son’hor catene Presa e legata, il Conte i leghi e prenda Questo stratio al superbo si convene. 16 1

Verso il bel nido, ove restai partendo, Ove vive di me la miglior parte, Quando il Sol faticoso torna, e parte Mai sempre l’ale del disir’ io stendo.

The Rime 15 9

That amorous fever that’s laid me low two years and more, and the burdensome weight that’s mine since Love took me at the pass with two beautiful eyes, and barred my escape, were quite enough to send me to the grave and so divide my body from my soul, without the need—beyond these arrows and bows— for other fevers or ills to enter the war. Heavenly Father, you can see how much pain this wretched soul and its husk withstand as Love and now fever come to torment me. Of these two fevers, stifle this one or that, for two such enemies can’t be restrained by a woman so frail and of such little strength. 16 0

Dear desiring stars that together, all together with Cupid and Cyprus’s queen,377 so readily gave my heart to that arrogant count who seized my hope from me as his prize, now you can see: since there’s nothing he fears, in pride he rears up, against you, against me. Avenge your shame and mine as you see fit, with vendettas more cruel and supreme. And this not so he relinquish my heart but that he give me his, along with hope, and in this way we’ll call things even. So use these chains with which I was taken and bound, to bind and take the count: this punishment best suits the proud. 16 1

Toward that lovely nest where I remained even after parting—where the best part of me lives on— whenever the laboring sun returns and parts, I extend the wings of my desire,

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Gaspara Stampa E me adhor adhor biasmo e riprendo, Ch’à star con voi non usai forza & arte Sapendo, che da voi stando in disparte Ben mille volte al dì moro vivendo. La speme mosse il mio dubbioso piede, Che deveste venir tosto à vedermi, Per arrestar questa fugace vita. Osservate Signor la data fede, Fate venendo questi lidi hor hermi Cari e gioiosi, e me lieta e gradita. 16 2

Se’l fin de gli occhi miei, e del pensiero, E`’l vedervi, e di voi pensar mia vita; Poi l’un mi tolse l’empia dipartita, Ch’io fei da voi per non dritto sentiero. L’imagin del sembiante vostro vero Mi stà sempre nel cor fissa, e scolpita, Qual Donna in parte, ove sia più gradita, Che gemme oriental’, oro, od378 Impero. Ma, perche l’alma disiosa, e vaga, Troppo aggravata d’amorosa sete Di questo sol rimedio mal s’appaga. Fate le luci mie gioiose, e liete Signor di vostra vista; e questa piaga Saldate; che voi sol saldar potete. 16 3

Quando mostra à quest’occhi Amor le porte De l’immensa bellezza, & infinita, De l’unico mio Sol, l’alma invaghita De le sue glorie par, che si conforte. Quando poi mostra à la memoria à sorte, Quelle di crudeltà mai non udita; Tutta à l’incontro afflitta, e sbigottita Resta preda, & imagine di Morte. E così vita, e morte, e gioie, e pene, E temenza, e fidanza, e guerra, e pace, Per le tue mani Amor d’un luogo viene.

The Rime and I from time to time must blame myself for not employing force or art to linger with you, knowing that when you’re not here, I die a thousand times a day. I suppose that hope moved my doubtful steps379— the hope you’d follow soon, so you’d prevent this fugitive life from fleeing away. Lord, keep the faith you gave: in coming back you’d make these shores, now desolate, dear and joyous, me grateful and content. 16 2

If to look on you’s the goal of my eyes, that of my thoughts to think on you, my life, then of that first goal I was deprived when we parted, bitterly, on a crooked path. The image of your true semblance is fixed forever in my heart, an empress sculpted there, where she reigns—more precious than oriental gems, or empire, or gold.380 But because my desiring, hungry heart is too oppressed with amorous thirst, this remedy alone cannot console: make my eyes joyous and glad again in your gaze, my lord, make this wound whole, for you alone have the power to heal.381 16 3

When Love shows these eyes the portals to what’s immense and infinite—the beauty of the only sun I have—my hungry soul seems to find some comfort in its glories; when then it shows my memory by chance the gates to cruelties never told before, afflicted and dismayed by the encounter, it falls prey to death, becoming its pale image. So life and death, and joys and pain, and fear and trust, and war and peace come from a single place: Love’s hands.382

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Gaspara Stampa Nè questo vario stato mi dispiace Sì son dolci i martiri, e le catene, Ma temo, che sarà breve, e fugace. 16 4

Occhi miei lassi non lasciate il pianto, Come non lascian mai383 tema, e spavento Di veder tosto à noi rubato, e spento Il lume, ch’amo, e riverisco tanto. Pregate Morte, se si può fra tanto, Che mi venga essa à cavar fuor di stento; Perche morir’ à un tratto è men tormento, Che viver sempre à mille morti à canto. Io direi, che pregaste prima Amore; Che facesse cangiar voglia, e pensiero Al nostro crudo, e disleal Signore; Ma sò, che saria in van, perche si fiero, Così indurato, & ostinato core Non hebbe mai illustre Cavaliero. 16 5

S’una vera, e rarissima humiltate, Una fè più che marmo, e scoglio salda, Una fiamma, ch’abbrucia, non pur scalda, Un non curar de la sua libertate; Un, per piacer à le due luci amate, Haver l’alma al morir’ ardita, e balda, Un liquefarsi come neve in falda Mertan per tempo homai trovar pietate. Io devrei pur sperar d’aprir lo scoglio Ch’intorno al core ha il mio Signor sì sodo, Ch’altrui pregare, ò stratio anco non franse. Et io ne prego ardente, come soglio, Amor’, e lui, che m’hanno stretto il nodo, E sà384 quanto per me si piange, e pianse.

The Rime Nor does this variable state displease— these tortures and these chains are sweet; I only fear they will be fleeting. 16 4

My tired eyes, don’t leave off your tears,385 just as the fear has never left me that too soon the light I so love and cherish might be spent and stolen from us. Beseech Death to come, if she is willing, and soon; with little effort, I might perish: to die at once is far less anguish than always living beside a thousand deaths. And yet I’d say that first you should ask Love to change the thoughts and will of the man who is our cruel and faithless lord; but I know it would be work in vain, so proud and obstinate a heart he has, and hard, as no illustrious knight has had before. 16 5

If humility most sincere and rare, a faith more firm than marble and than rock, a fire that scorches and doesn’t merely burn, a liberty for which one doesn’t care, a soul that’s fired up and set to die, all for love of those two beloved eyes, a melting of oneself like snow in the sun386 should after all this time have won some pity, then I by right should have cause to hope that the armor that’s so snug about his heart would shatter, where others’ appeals have failed. Ardently to him and Love, who both tied this knot so tight, I pray, and who both know how much I cry for myself, and cried.

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Gaspara Stampa 16 6

Io accuso talhora Amor, e lui Ch’io amo; Amor, che mi legò sì forte; Lui, che mi può dar vita, e darmi387 Morte, Cercando torsi à me, per darsi altrui. Ma meglio avista poi scuso ambedui, Et accuso me sol de la mia sorte; E le mie voglie al voler poco accorte. Ch’io de le pene mie ministra fui. Perche, vedendo la mia indegnitade Devea mirar’in men gradito loco, Per poterne sperar maggior pietade. Fetonte, Icaro, & io, per poter poco Et osar molto, in questa e quella388 etade Restiamo estinti da troppo alto foco. 16 7

Poi che disia cangiar pensiero, e voglia L’empio Signor, c’honoro & amo tanto, Senza curar de’ fiumi del mio pianto, E del mancar de la mia frale spoglia. Io prego Morte, che di qui389 mi toglia, Perche non habbia questo crudo il vanto; O` prego Amor, che mi rallenti alquanto Poi che de’ doni suoi, tutta mi spoglia; Sì che ò morta non vegga tanto danno, O` viva e sciolta non lo stimi molto Allor, che gli occhi altro mirar sapranno. Dunque ò sia falso il mio temere e stolto,390 O` resti sciolta al rinovar de l’anno, O` queti il corpo in bel marmo sepolto. 16 8

Che bella lode, Amor, che ricche spoglie Havrai d’una infiammata giovenetta, Che t’è stata sì fida e sì soggetta, Seguendo più le tue, che le sue voglie,

The Rime 16 6

Now and then I single out Love for blame and the man I love:391 one bound me forcefully, the other could give me life but brings me death, seeking to leave me and give himself away. But upon reflection, both I excuse, and accuse myself alone for such a fate: my desires unaware of their desiring made me minister of my own sorrows. For, considering my lowly state, I should have gazed toward a place less pleasing if I wanted to be met with greater pity. We carried out so little, Phaeton, Icarus, and I,392 in their age and mine—yet we dared so much, and thus we’re consumed by such great flames. 16 7

Now that the pitiless lord I honor and love so changes his mind and his desires, and cares not for the rivers of my tears or for the shedding of my frail remains, I’ll ask death to carry me away so he can’t boast of this, that man so cruel; or I’ll beseech Love my desires to undo since he’s stripped me of those gifts once mine, for dead I’d no longer see such harm, while alive and free I wouldn’t see him, much, since my eyes would learn on someone else to gaze. May my fears be rendered foolish and false, or may Love unbind me before the year’s renewed,393 or may my corpse find peace in a marble grave. 16 8

Love, think of the compliments, and those rich spoils394 you’ll have from cheating this young thing in love who’s been so faithful, so obedient in following your every wish, not hers,

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Gaspara Stampa Se per te così tosto si discioglie Da la catena, che l’haveva stretta; Laqual le piace395 sì, sì le diletta, Ch’à penar dolcemente par l’invoglie;396 Non conviene ad un Dio l’esser sì lieve, Massimamente quando il cangiar stato, Non è diletto altrui, ma doglia greve. Ma tu pur segui il tuo costume usato, E fai la gioia mia fugace e breve Ritogliendomi il ben, che m’hai donato. 16 9

A` Che più saettarmi arcier spietato? Se tu lo fai, per mostrar la tua forza, Io ho già tutto dentro e ne la scorza Questo misero corpo arso, e’mpiagato.397 Se tu lo fai per farmi un di placato Chi la mia libertà mi lega e smorza; Tu speri in van, perche tua poggia & orza Nulla rileva il suo legno ostinato. Egli si pasce del mio crudo stratio, Quanto è maggior, e de l’aspre mie pene Non pur, che mai ne sia pentito e satio. Et in una gran tema mi mantiene, Che fatto d’ altra Donna in breve spatio, Mi torrà le sue luci alme e serene. 17 0

Fammi pur certa Amor, che non mi toglia, Tempo, Fortuna, invidia, ò crudeltade La mia viva, & angelica beltade, Quella, ch’appaga, e queta ogni mia voglia. E dammi quanto sai tormento, e doglia, Che tutto mi sarà gioia, e pietade, Tommi riposo, tommi libertade; E se ti par, tommi anco questa spoglia, Che per certo io morrò lieta e contenta, Morendo sua, pur che non vegga io, Ch’ella sia fatta d’altra Donna, ò senta.

The Rime if suddenly you undo the chain with which she was so tightly bound—the one that’s given her such pleasure, such delight that she’s taken a fancy to sweet pain. A god shouldn’t be so fickle, not when mutability brings no joy to others, but burdens them with sorrow instead. But you stick to your old ways, and make my joy too fugitive and fleeting, taking back from me the good you gave me. 16 9

Pitiless archer, why continue to strike? If it’s just to impress me with your force, know that this miserable corpse, inside and out, is already scarred and burned with wounds. Do you do it to placate the man who binds me and stifles my liberty? You hope in vain: neither your forewinds nor aft398 can change the course of his obstinate craft. What’s more, he feeds so on my torments and these harsh and bitter pains that never will he assuage his hunger, or repent. And so he keeps me in a state of dread: he might become another woman’s —soon— and deprive me of his eyes, serene and bright. 17 0

Reassure me, Love, that time or fortune, envy or cruelty will never take from me my vibrant and angelic beauty who satisfies and quiets every wish; bring on all the grief and torments that you have, there’s nothing else that would grant more joy; take from me my peace of mind, my liberty, and if you want, take from me this mortal flesh— for certainly, I’ll die happy and content if I die his and never hear or see that his beauty belongs to another woman.

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Gaspara Stampa Questa sol tema turba399 il piacer mio, Questa fà, ch’a’ miei danni non consenta, E fà la speme ritrosa al desio. 17 1

Voi potete Signor ben tormi voi Con quel cor d’indurato diamante, E farvi d’altra Donna novo amante; Di che cosa non è, che più m’annoi. Ma non potete già ritormi poi, L’imagin vostra, il vostro almo sembiante, Che giorno e notte mi stà sempre innante, Poi che mi fece Amor de’ servi suoi. Non potete ritormi quei desiri, Che m’acceser di voi sì caldamente Il foco, il pianto,400 che per gli occhi verso. Questi mi fien ne’ miei gravi martiri Dolce sostegno, e la memoria ardente Del diletto provato, c’han disperso. 17 2

S’ una candida fede, un cor sincero, Una gran riverenza, una infinita Voglia à servir’ altrui pronta, & ardita, Un servo grato al suo Signor mai fero. Devrebbe pur Signor, l’affetto401 vero, E la mia fede esser da voi gradita; Se i vostri honor più cari che la vita, Mi fur mai sempre, e più ch’oro, et Impero. Ma, poi che mia Fortuna mi contende, Mercè sì giusta, poi che à sì gran torto, A` schivo il servir mio da voi si prende, Ciò ch’à voi piace patiente porto, Sperando pur, che Dio che tutto vede,402 Vi faccia un dì de la mia fede accorto.

The Rime This fear alone disturbs my pleasure, makes me loath to accept my pain, and renders hope an unwilling partner to desire. 17 1

True, you might turn away from me, my lord, with that heart of obdurate diamond and take another woman as your lover— nothing in the world could hurt me more— but you can never take away from me your image, that lofty semblance of yourself which day and night is always here before me since Love placed me among his servants. You can’t deprive me of these desires for you that burn so—along with the fire and tears I pour forth through these eyes: in the midst of sufferings, they bring sweet sustenance, aided by the lively memory of pleasures known, now gone. 17 2

If candid faith, a heart sincere, great reverence, infinite desire and fire to serve,403 if any of these qualities ever made a servant pleasing to his lord, if your honor’s been more dear to me than life itself, or gold or empire, then, lord, my true affections and my loyalty should all be to you most welcome. But since my destiny withholds from me just compensation since you so disprize the service that I’ve offered you, and since you’d rather that I harbor patience, I hope that God who sees all things will one day make you conscious of my faith.

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Gaspara Stampa 17 3

Cantate meco Progne, e Filomena, Anzi piangete il mio grave martire; Hor, che la Primavera, e’l suo fiorire, I miei lamenti, e voi tornando mena. A` voi rinova la memoria, e pena De l’onta di Tereo, e le giust’ire, E me404 l’acerbo, e crudo dipartire Del mio Signore morte empia rimena. Dunque essendo più fresco il mio dolore, Aitatemi amiche à disfogarlo, Ch’io per me non ho tanto entro vigore. E, se piace ad Amor mai di scemarlo, Io piangerò poi’l vostro à tutte l’hore Con quanto stile, & arte potrò farlo. 17 4

Una inaudita, e nova crudeltade,405 Un’esser’ al fuggir pronto e leggiero, Un’andar troppo di sue doti altero, Un torre ad altri la sua libertade, Un vedermi penar senza pietade, Un’haver sempre a’ miei danni il pensiero, Un rider di mia morte · quando406 pero, Un’haver voglie ogn’hor fredde e gelate. Un’eterno timor di lontananza, Un verno eterno senza primavera, Un non dar giamai cibo à la speranza, M’han fatto divenir una Chimera, Uno abisso confuso, un mar, ch’avanza D’onde e tempeste una marina vera. 17 5

Quasi huom, che rimaner dè tosto senza Il cibo, onde nudrir suol la sua vita, Più dell’usato à prenderne s’ aita Fin, che gliè presso posto in sua presenza;

The Rime 17 3

Procne and Philomena,407 sing with me, or better, weep: weep for my suffering now that spring returns in its flourishing to usher in my laments, and you, for whom the season renews the memory and pain of your just wrath and Tereus’s shame; for me, the cruel and bitter parting of my lord brings with it only evil death. Thus since my sorrow’s fresher than yours, help me, my friends, to pour it forth for I lack the force in myself alone. And if one day it pleases Love to calm my grief, then I’ll weep night and day for you with as much art and skill as I can. 17 4 4 0 8

This is unheard of, this new cruelty: a fickle man ever ready to run, arrogant and snug in all that he does, while depriving others of their liberty, he watches me suffer and feels no pity, he’s always scheming to do me harm, he laughs at my death whenever it might come, his desires at all hours are cold and frigid, while I always fear to be far from him; my winter’s eternal, without spring, and my only food is hopelessness. All of this has made me a chimera,409 a confused abyss, a sea that floods with waves and storms my only true harbor. 17 5

Just as the man soon to be bereft of the food that nourishes his life will help himself to more than his wont as long as it’s still there within his presence;

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Gaspara Stampa Convien, ch’innanzi à l’ aspra dipartenza, Ch’à sì crudi digiuni410 l’alma invita, Ella più de l’usato sia nodrita, Per poter poi soffrir sì dura assenza. Però vaghi occhi miei mirate fiso, Più de l’usato,411 anzi bevete il bene, E’l bel del vostro amato e caro viso. E voi orecchie oltra l’usato piene Restate del parlar, che’l Paradiso, Certo armonia più dolce non contiene. 17 6

Se voi vedete à mille chiari segni, Che tanto ho cara, e non più questa vita, Quant’ è con voi, quant’ è da voi gradita, Ultimo fin de tutti i miei disegni. A` che pur con nov’ arte, e novi ingegni Darmi qualche novella aspra ferita, Tramando hor questa, hor quella dipartita, Quasi ogni pace mia da voi si sdegni? Se volete, ch’io mora, un colpo solo M’uccida, sì c’homai si ponga fine Al dispiacervi, al vivere, & al duolo, Perche così stà sempre su’l confine, Di morte l’ alma; e mai non prende il volo, Pensando pur’ à voi luci divine. 17 7

Poi che tu mandi à far tanta dimora, Empia Fortuna in sì lontan paese Il chiaro, e vivo raggio che m’accese Empia, et aversa a’ miei disiri ogn’hora, Conveniente, e giusto, e degno fora, Che tu mi fossi almen tanto cortese, Che quest’ hore sì brevi havesse spese Qui meco tutte lui, che m’innamora. Sì che’l cor’, e gli orecchi, e gli occhi insieme Prendesser cibo à sostenermi in vita, Quel lungo tempo poi ch’ei fia lontano.

The Rime so my soul faced with his bitter departure and the cruel fasting that’s soon to come will long to eat more than it’s accustomed to so it can endure his harsh absence. Thus, desiring eyes, fix your gaze on him more than you’re wont—drink up all that’s beautiful and good in your dear, beloved face. And you, ears, beyond your usual custom, stuff yourselves with his speech—for paradise itself contains no sweeter harmonies. 17 6

As you can see from a thousand clear signs, I hold this life not a fraction dearer than you make it out to be, you who are the end-all and be-all of my desires— then why do you give me fresh and bitter wounds with these new tricks and this new art, postponing now this, now that departure as though you disdained my attempts at peace? One blow alone, if you want me dead, would kill me—and so bring to an end your unhappiness and my life and grief; my soul is always hovering on death’s threshold, but it never takes flight, just at the thought of your two divine lights. 17 7

Now that you’ve sent off to make his abode in a distant land the bright and lively light who burned me once, wicked Fortune, you who my desires constantly oppose, it would have been fitting and worthy and just had you at least been courteous enough to let him spend these last brief hours with me—for he’s made me fall in love— so that my heart and eyes and ears at once could take in food enough to sustain my life for that long, long time he’ll be away.

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Gaspara Stampa Ma tu stai dura, & io mi doglio in vano Dal ciel, da te, e poi d’ Amor tradita Però l’alma di ciò sospira e geme. 17 8

Perche mi sij Signor crudo, e selvaggio, Disdegnoso, inhumano, & inclemente, Perche habbi412 volto altrove ultimamente Spirto, pensieri, cor’, anima, e raggio. Non per questo adivien, che’l foco, c’haggio Nel petto acceso si spenga, ò s’allente; Anzi si fa più vivo, e più cocente, Quant’ha da te più stratij, e fiero oltraggio; Che, s’io t’amassi come l’altre fanno, T’amerei solo, e seguirei fin tanto, Ch’io ne sentissi utile, e non danno; Ma, perciò ch’ amo te, amo quel santo Lume, che gli occhi miei visto prima hanno, Convien, ch’io t’ami à l’allegrezza, e al pianto. 17 9

Meraviglia non è, se’n uno instante Ritraeste da me pensieri, e voglie, Che vi venne cagion di prender moglie, E divenir marito, ov’ eri amante. Nodo, e fè, che non è stretto, e costante Per picciola cagion si rompe, e scioglie; La mia fede e’l mio413 nodo il vanto toglie Al nodo Gordiano, & al diamante; Però non fia giamai, che scioglia questo, E rompa quella, se non cruda Morte, Laqual prego Signor, che venga presto. Sì ch’io non vegga con le luci scorte Quello c’hor col pensier atro, e funesto, Mi fa veder la mia spietata sorte.

The Rime But you’re unrelenting, and I lament in vain, by heaven, you, and last by Love betrayed: even as my soul for him moans and sighs. 17 8

Though, sir, to me you’re cruel and wild,414 disdainful, inhuman, and unforgiving, though lately elsewhere you’ve been turning your spirit, thoughts, heart, soul, and eyes— not for this is the fire that so brightly burns in my heart lessened or spent; if anything it’s quicker and more potent the more you make it suffer fierce outrage. If I loved you as those other women do, I’d love and follow you only as long as I thought it useful—not deadly. But because I love you, I love that saintly light my eyes took in with their very first gaze, so it’s fitting I love you in joy and pain. 17 9

A marvel it’s not, if in an instant all your thoughts and desires you’ve withdrawn from me because it’s come into your head to take a wife415 and become a husband where once you played lover. Faith and knots that are neither constant nor tight can loosen and break for the simplest cause; but my faith and knot exceed the strength of diamonds and the Gordian knot.416 Let the knot never be undone, nor my faith shattered by anything but cruel death itself— which, lord, I pray you to send me at once so I won’t have to see with eyes so sharp what dispiriting fate now makes me glimpse with thought alone, baleful and dark.

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Gaspara Stampa 18 0

Certo fate gran torto à la mia fede, Conte, sovra ogni fè candida, e pura, A` dir, che’n Francia è più salda e più dura La fè di quelle Donne à chi lor crede. Se, come Amor ch’i pensier dentro vede, E passa ov’ occhio human non s’assicura Penetraste anco voi per mia ventura, Ove l’imagin vostra altera siede; Voi la vedreste salda come scoglio, Immobilmente appresso del mio core, E diporreste meco il vostro orgoglio. Ma voi vedete sol quel ch’appar fuore, Per questo io resto misera uno scoglio; E voi credete poco al mio dolore. 18 1

Diversi effetti Amor mi fà417 vedere, Poco anzi; hor mi pascea di gelosia, Dimostrandomi quanto lieve sia, Creder suo quel, ch’à molte può piacere. Hor mi pascea di speme, e di piacere, Mostrandomi la fè mia418 sempre pria, Salda, e costante de la gloria mia, E le promesse sue sicure, e vere. Per questo hor fra tempeste, hor fra bonaccia Guidai la barca mia dubbia, e sicura, Vedendo Amor’ hor fosco, hor chiaro in faccia. Hor la speranza più non m’ assicura, E la temenza vuol, ch’io mi disfaccia, Dir più non oso, e sallo chi n’ha cura. 18 2

La vita fugge, & io pur sospirando Trapasso, lassa, il più de gli anni miei, Nè di passarli ardendo mi dorrei, A` la cagion de’ miei sospir mirando.

The Rime 18 0

Surely you wrong my good faith, Count— a faith above all others candid and pure— to say that the faith of the women in France is far stronger and longer endures. If you were like Love, whose thoughts see inside and travel where human eye can’t be assured, then luck would be mine, and you could penetrate within to where your lofty image resides. There you would see it, firm as a rock and anchored forever in my heart, and you’d never again display such pride. But you see only what glimmers outside, leaving me wretched and turned to stone,419 since you won’t believe in the cause for my woes. 18 1

Not so long ago, Love let me see him in his many guises. First he fed me jealousy, showing me how easy it is to believe that a man might please a lot of women. Then he had me dine on hope and pleasure, as he made my faith in victory seem steadfast and secure, and his promises were unwavering and sure. Thus through tempests and calm seas I guided my little boat, doubtful and secure, seeing Love now with downcast face, now bright. Now hope no longer lends me certainty, and fear seeks only my undoing. To say more I don’t dare, and she knows who’s had these cares. 18 2

Life slips away,420 alas, and I’ve spent most of my years sighing; nor do I regret that I’ve passed them all on fire, gazing at the object of my sighs.

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Gaspara Stampa Se non, che non sò punto il come, ò’l quando421 Den le mie gioie dar luogo à gli homei; Che forse à poco à poco m’userei, Ad andar le mie pene sopportando. Anzi misera io sò, che sarà422 tosto, Che per partenza, ò per cangiar volere, Il fin de’ miei piacer non è discosto. E perch’ Amor me’l faccia prevedere, Non è per questo il mio petto disposto, A` poter tanta doglia sostenere. 18 3

Deh consolate il cor co’ vostri rai, Questo almen poco spatio, che m’avanza De la vostra vicina lontananza, Ch’io non vedrò con gli occhi asciutti mai. Lasciate i vostri amati colli, e gai A` voi sì cara, e à me nemica stanza; Colli, c’hanno imparato per usanza, A` farmi oltraggio sì sovente homai. Già senza voi non fia manco fiorita, La chioma de’ bei colli, dov’ io forsi Resterò senza voi, senza la vita. Che cosa è Conte à la pietate opporsi, Se non negare à chi dimanda aita, I suoi pietosi, i suoi dolci soccorsi? 18 4

Io non trovo più rime, onde più possa Lodar vostra beltà, vostro valore; E contare i tormenti del mio core, Si cresce à quelli, e à me manca la possa. E, quasi fiamma, che sia dentro mossa, E non possa sfogar l’incendio fore, Questo interno disio cresce’l dolore, E mi consuma le midolle, e l’ossa. Sì che fra tutti i beni e tutti i mali Ch’ Amor suol dar’, io ho questo vantaggio, Che quanti sien, ridir non posso, e quali.

The Rime If it weren’t that I didn’t know how and when my joy would trade places with lament, little by little I might just inure myself to all this suffering. Wretched woman that I am, I know it will be soon: a departure or a change of heart can only mean the end of my delights. And although Love lets me foresee the future, not for this is my heart disposed to be able to withstand such woe. 18 3

Ah, with your gaze, console my heart at least for this little space of time that’s left me— your leave-taking looms so near, I’ll never see again with eyes undimmed by tears. Leave your beloved joyful climbs,423 a resting place unfriendly to me, to you so dear, those hills that by now have learned to accustom themselves to doing me harm. Left without you, the locks of those lovely hills won’t be deprived of their flowers, where I’ll stay on without you, without my life. Count, what could be more opposed to pity than this, to deny to one who asks for it your compassionate and sweet assistance? 18 4

I’ve no more rhymes with which to praise your valor or your beauty anymore, or to tell the torments of my heart: the more there are, the less I’m prone to count them.424 And like a fire that moves beneath the ashes but lacks power to unleash itself in flame, so this desire inside increases my pain and consumes my bones and very marrow, so that of all the good and all the bad love sends our way, I have this advantage: how much of each and of what kind, I can’t say.

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Gaspara Stampa Dunque ò tu vivo mio lucente raggio Dammi vigore, ò tu dammi Amor l’ali, Ch’io saglia à mostrar fuor quel, che’n cor’haggio. 18 5

Io penso talhor meco, quanto amaro Fora il mio stato, se per qualche sdegno, O` per stimarsi il mio Signor più degno Mi ritogliesse il suo bel lume, e chiaro. E mi risolvo, che’l vero riparo, Quando ad essaminar ben tutto vegno, Per finire i miei mal tutti ad un segno Saria di Morte il colpo aspro & avaro, Che, s’io restassi in vita, gli occhi, e’l core, La speranza, il disio mi farian guerra; Che prendon sol da lui esca, e vigore, Dove, s’io fossi morta, e posta in terra, Si porria fin’ ad un tratto al dolore, Ch’è vita morte, che più morti atterra. 18 6

Che fia di me dico, ad Amor talhora, Poi che del mio Signor gli occhi sereni Lasseran questi miei di pianto pieni, Fatto esso d’altri infin à l’ultim’ hora? Che fia di me, mi rispond’ egli allora, Ch’arco, e saetti,425 e faci, e teme, e speni, Tengo in quegli occhi, e tutti altri miei beni, Né mai ritrarli io ho potuto ancora? D’indi soglio infiammar, d’ indi ferire; Hor, se come tu dì, ce li ritoglie, Caduta è la mia gloria, e’l nostro ardire.426 In queste amare, e dispietate voglie, Restiam noi due; & ei segue di gire, Carco, e superbo de le nostre spoglie.

The Rime Thus either give me strength, my living, lustrous ray, or you, Love, grant me wings so I might show without what’s there within my heart. 18 5

Now and then I think how bitter life would be if my lord out of disdain for me or from thinking himself more worthy than me should snatch away his bright and handsome light; and when I reflect on all that’s been, I resolve that the truest solace to myself and a way to end all my cares at once would be the harsh and greedy stroke of death. For his heart and eyes my hope and desire, —which take from him their food, their very breath— will fight against me, if I stay alive. But if I died and were laid in the ground, it would put an end at once to this pain for life is a more deadly death than death. 18 6

What will become of me, I sometimes say to Love, now that my lord’s tranquil eyes have left my own brimming over with tears, since he’s sworn to become another’s till death? And what of me, Love answers then: I’ve launched my bow and arrows, torches, hopes and fears— all that I own—from those eyes only; can I ever hope to have them back again? With these I used to wound and to enflame: now if as you say he snatches them away, gone is our daring and all my glory.427 So do we two remain, trapped by these bitter, pitiless wishes—while he travels on, laden and emboldened by our spoils.

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Gaspara Stampa 18 7

Se gran temenza non tenesse à freno, La mia lingua bramosa, e’l mio disio, Sì ch’io potessi dire al Signor mio, Come amando, e temendo io vengo meno. Io spererei, che quel di gratie pieno, Viso leggiadro, onde tutt’ altro oblio; Quant’è’l mio stato travagliato, e rio, Tanto lo fesse un dì chiaro, e sereno. E quello, onde m’avinse, e strinse nodo Non cercherebbe, lassa, di slegarlo, Allor che più credea, che fosse sodo. Ma per troppo timor non oso farlo; Così dentro al mio cor mi struggo, e rodo, E sol con meco, e con Amor ne parlo. 18 8

Quasi vago, e purpureo Giacinto, Che’n verde prato in piaggia aprica, e lieta Crescendo à i raggi del più bel pianeta, Che lo mantien de gli honor suoi dipinto, Subito torna languidetto, e vinto, Sì che mai non si vide tanta piéta, Se di veder gli usati rai gli vieta, Nube, che’l Sol habbia coperto, e cinto. Tal la mia speme, ch’ogn’hor s’erge e cresce, Dinanzi a’ rai de la beltà infinita, Onde ogni sua virtute, e vigor’ esce. Ma la ritorna poi fiacca, e smarrita Oscura tema, che con lei si mesce, Che la sua luce tosto fia sparita. 18 9

Lassa, in questo fiorito, e verde prato De le delitie mie, fra sì fresc’ herba,428 Onde, la tua mercè, vò sì superba, Amor, poi che’l mio Sol m’hai ritornato,

The Rime 18 7

If great fearfulness did not hold at bay my eager tongue and my desire, if I could manage to tell my lord how loving and dreading I wither away, I’d hope this handsome face so full of grace that consigns all else to forgetfulness one day might turn my hapless and beleaguered state to one of calm serenity, and that—alas—he wouldn’t seek to undo the knot that holds and constrains me, just when I thought it was so strong. But terrorized, I don’t dare try; instead, I consume myself, eating out my heart, and speak of it with Love and myself alone. 18 8

Like some lovely purple hyacinth429 flourishing on a grassy field in sunsplashed lands beneath the light of that most handsome planet that preserves him painted in his glory, suddenly he languishes, defeated, and you’ve never seen a sight so pitiful, denied to him those rays habitual by a cloud that covers and surrounds his sun: such my hope that surges and grows each hour beneath the beams of that boundless beauty from which all virtue and vibrancy are born. But it becomes bewildered and weakened by dark fears that intrude—that soon, too soon, the light will all be gone. 18 9

Alas! That in this green and flowering meadow of my delights, among fresh grasses where by your leave, Love, I go about so haughtily, now that my sun’s returned to me,

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Gaspara Stampa Per quel, ch’à certi segni m’è mostrato, Un’empio, & venenoso430 Aspe si serba, Per far la vita mia di dolce acerba, E avelenarmi il mio felice stato. Il che, se dè seguir prego, che priva, Mi faccia Morte e di vita, e di senso Prima, che questa tema giunga à riva. Perch’ à dover provar dolor sì immenso, Assai meglio è morir, che restar viva; Se le provate mie doglie compenso. 19 0

Acconciatevi spirti stanchi, e frali A` sostener la perigliosa guerra, E’l colpo, che Fortuna empia disserra, Da noi partendo i lumi miei fatali. Quanti havete fin qui tormenti, e quali Sofferti, poi che crudo Amor n’atterra Son sogni & ombre, à lato à quei che serra Questa seconda assentia stratij, e mali. Perche contra il dolor mi fece ardita Un poco di virtù, che haveva allora, Che fece il mio Signor l’altra partita. Hor’, essendo mancata quella ancora, Et essendo cresciuta la ferita, Altro schermo non ho, se non ch’io mora. 19 1

Comincia alma infelice à poco à poco A` ricever di fiera sorte il colpo, A` cui pensando sol mi snervo, e spolpo, Et in guai si converte ogni mio gioco. L’alta cagion del nostro chiaro foco Partirà tosto; di che lassa io scolpo Amore, e’l crudo mio Signor’ incolpo Sì veloce à cangiar pensier’ e loco. Sì che quando si parte, e torna il Sole Non vegga l’occhio tuo di pianto asciutto, Poi che dove si può così si vuole.

The Rime a deadly evil asp has shown by certain signs that he’s lurking here to embitter my sweet life and poison these days that are the happiest I’ve known.431 And if that’s what is to come, I ask that death deprive me first of life and sense before this tale comes to its conclusion. To have to suffer sorrow so immense— it’s better not to stay alive, since death is for these pains I’ve known some compensation. 19 0

Accustom yourselves, spirits weak and frail, to this dangerous war, to taking on the blow unleashed by wretched fortune as those eyes, so fatal, take their leave. The many torments, all the suffering you’ve known since harsh Love laid me low, are dreams and shadows next to these evils and hardships secured by his second absence. Against such grief a little strength once made me bold, sustained then when my lord departed that first time; now instead the wound has sharpened, and I’m left without the little that once was mine, quite without defense except my death. 19 1

Unhappy soul, begin, a little at a time, to prepare yourself for fate’s harsh blow— just thinking on it turns my delights to woe, undoes me, reduces me to skin and bones: the noble cause of our splendid fire will soon depart, for which, alas, I pardon Love and blame my cruel lord instead, who so quickly changes his mind and his place. So when the sun leaves and when it sets, don’t let your eyes be dry of tears: for there where power and will are the same,432

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Gaspara Stampa Ch’un cor saldo e costante vince il tutto, E morte al fine, ò’l tempo, come suole Ti trarran fuor di vita e fuor di lutto. 19 2

Amor lo stato tuo è proprio quale, E` una ruota, che mai sempre gira; E chi v’è suso hor canta, & hor sospira, E senza mai fermarsi hor scende, hor sale. Hor ti chiama fedele, hor disleale, Hor fà pace con teco, et hor s’adira; Hora ti si dà in433 preda, hor si ritira; Hor nel ben teme, & hor spera nel male. Hor s’ alza al cielo, hor cade ne l’ Inferno, Hor’ à lunge434 dal lido, hor giunge in porto, Hor trema à meza state, hor suda il verno. Io, lassa me, nel mio maggior conforto Sono assalita d’un sospetto interno, Che mi tien sempre il cor fra vivo, e morto. 19 3 (28 3) 4 3 5

S’io non havessi al cor già fatto un callo, E patteggiato dentro col pensiero Non dar più luogo al despietato arciero, Mal trattata da lui quanto egli sallo. Di farmi entrar ne l’ amoroso ballo Novamente, e più crudo, che’l primiero, Per farmi uscir dal436 mio preso sentiero, E commetter del primo un maggior fallo, Havrian forza i vostr’ occhi, e quel cortese Atto, e tante altre gratie, e la beltade, Onde Natura à farsi honor intese. Ma per haver di me giusta pietade, Tanto ho di voi non più le voglie accese, Quanto premette437 honor’, & honestade.

The Rime a firm and constant heart can conquer all things while death or time, in their usual way, will put an end to your life and your grief. 19 2

Love, the condition that your own you call is like a wheel that’s always spinning,438 and she who’s onboard—now sighing, now singing, and without ever stopping—rises and falls. Now she calls you faithful, now disloyal; now she makes peace with you, now she’s full of ire; now gives herself as prey, and now she retires; now she fears in good times, hopes in evil, now rises to heaven, now swoops to hell; now is far from shore, now comes to harbor, now trembles in summer and sweats in winter. Alas, in the midst of greatest joy, I’m assailed by nagging doubts that arrest my heart forever between life and death. 19 3 (28 3)

If I hadn’t made a callus of my heart439 and carefully patrolled my thoughts so they would yield no space to that despicable archer who’s treated me so poorly, and he knows it— to draw me into this amorous dance440 a second time,441 more cruelly than before, to make me stray from my chosen path and make mistakes much bigger than the last— your eyes might have had such force, those decent acts, your other gracious ways, your beauty: such are nature’s way of doing herself honor. But to take some pity on myself, I’ve kindled these desires for you—no more, just as much as reputation will consent.

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Gaspara Stampa 19 4 (19 3)

Se quel grave martir, che’l cor m’afflige, Non temprasse talhor cortese Amore, Già mi sarei di vita uscita fuore, E varcato haverei Cocito, e Stige. Ma perche quant’ ei più m’ange e trafige, Tanto la gioia poi tempra l’ardore, Tenendo sempre fra due, lassa, il core, Nè al sì, nè al nò, l’alma s’affige. Così d’ Ambrosia vivo, e di veleno, Né di vita, ò di Morte stà sicura L’anima, c’hor s’aviva, & hor vien meno. O` strana, ò nova, ò insolita ventura, O` petto di dolor’, e noia pieno, O` diletto, ò martir, che poco dura. 19 5 (19 4)

Chi darà lena à la tua stanca vita, Talhor dentro nel cor mi dice Amore, Hor, che chi ti suol dar lena, e vigore S’apparecchia di far da te partita?442 Pensando à ciò, sì à lagrimar m’invita, Questo vero, e giustissimo dolore, Che sarei già di vita uscita fore, Se non che’l raggio di chi può m’aita. E rimango pregando ò lui, ò Morte, Lui, che non parta, ò lei, che à me ne vegna, Sì ch’ei vegga presente tanta piéta. Ma al mio gridare, e al mio pregar sì forte. Di risponder nè questo,443 nè quel degna, E la sua aita ogn’un di lor mi vieta. 19 6 (19 5)

Voi vi partite Conte, & io qual soglio, Mi rimango di duol preda, e di Morte, E questo, ò quello444 ingiurioso, e forte Userà contra me l’usato orgoglio.

The Rime 19 4 (19 3)

If from time to time gracious Love didn’t think to temper the heavy suffering that afflicts my heart, by now, my life long gone, I’d have passed beyond the rivers Cocytus and Styx,445 but the more that I’m grieved and transfixed, so much more does joy temper my burning, holding always between these two states my heart, so that the soul’s, alas, to none affixed. And so I dine on ambrosia446 and poison, my soul assured of neither death nor life, and now it’s alive and now it languishes. O strange new future—and untried; O breast that’s full of sorrow and strife, O delight, O suffering, that little endures. 19 5 (19 4)

Who will give force to your exhausted life, Love whispers in my heart from time to time, now that he who gives you breath and strength is readying himself to take his leave? The very thought of this invites me to tears— such is this sincere and most just of griefs that I’d already have left this life if not for a glimmer of help nearby.447 So I linger, beseeching him that he not go, and Death that she might come to me, so he might see a pitiful sight. But no matter how hard I cry and pray, neither one of them deigns to reply, and help from them both is denied me. 19 6 (19 5)

You go off, Count, and—as usual—I remain the prey of sorrow and death, and both will be sufficiently pernicious to use against me their usual pride.

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Gaspara Stampa Né potrò farmi a’ colpi loro scoglio, Non havendo con me chi mi conforte Il vostro viso, e le due fide scorte, Che ne’ perigli per iscudo toglio. Deh foss’ io certa almen, che di due cose Seguisse l’ una; ò voi tornaste presto, O` fossero anche in voi fiamme amorose. Che mi sarebbe schermo, e quello, e questo In far meno l’ assentie mie penose, E’l vostro dipartir meno molesto. 19 7 (19 6)

Ecco Amor’ io morrò, perche la vita Si partirà da me, e senza lei, Tu sei certo, ch’io viver non potrei, Che saria cosa nova, & inaudita. Quanto à me ne sarò poco pentita, Perche la lunga istoria de gli homei, De’ sospir, de’ martir, de’ dolor miei Sarà per questo mezo almen finita; Mi dorrà sol per conto tuo, che poi Non havrai cor sì saldo, e sì costante, Dove possi aventar gli strali tuoi. E le vittorie tue, le tante, e tante Tue glorie, perderanno i pregi suoi, Al cader di sì fida, e salda amante. 19 8 (19 7)

Chi’l crederia? felice era il mio stato, Quando à vicenda hor doglia, & hor diletto, Hor tema, hor speme m’ingombrava il petto, E m’era il cielo, hor chiaro, & hor turbato. Perche questo d’ Amor fiorito prato Non è à mio giudicio à pien perfetto, Se non è misto di contrario effetto, Quando la noia fà il piacer più grato. Ma hor l’ha pieno sì di spine, e sterpi, Chi lo può fare; e svelti i fiori, e l’herba, Che sol v’albergan venenosi serpi.

The Rime Nor can I make myself a bulwark against their blows, lacking what would most console: your face and those two faithful guides I use as shield in every danger. Ah, were I at least assured that of two things one might follow: that you’d return, and soon, or that there leapt up in you the amorous flame. For either would protect me, this or that, in making my absence from you less distressing, and your departure would less upset me. 19 7 (19 6)

Love, this is how I’ll die—for life will flee from me, and without her you know that I could never live, for that would be a new, unheard-of thing. And as for me, I’ll scarcely feel regret, for my lengthy history of griefs, laments and sighs and sorrows at least this way would finally reach the end. I’ll grieve for only you, on your account:448 you’ll never have a heart so firm and constant to use again as target for your darts, and your many victories and many glories will lose their worth when I, this firm and faithful lover, fall apart. 19 8 (19 7)

Who would believe it? My life was sweet when grief and delight took turns with me, now hope, now fear burdening my breast, and the sky above might be cloudy or clear. Here’s what I think: this flowering meadow of love is never perfect if not mixed with effects contrary to one another, as trouble makes pleasure yet more dear. But now it’s just full of brambles and thorns, thanks to him who uproots the flowers and grass, turning it into a home for venomous asps.

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Gaspara Stampa O` fe cangiata, ò mia fortuna acerba, Tu le speranze mie recidi, e sterpi, La cagion dentro al petto mio si serba. 19 9 (19 8)

Se soffrir’ il dolore, è l’esser forte, E l’esser forte è virtù bella, e rara, Ne la tua corte Amor certo s’impara Questa virtù, più ch’in ogn’altra corte. Perche non è chi teco non sopporte, De’ dolori, e di teme le migliara, Per una luce in apparenza chiara, Che poi scure ombre, e tenebre n’apporte. La continentia vi s’ impara ancora, Perche da quello, onde s’ha più disio Per riverenza altrui s’ astien talhora. Queste virtuti, & altre ho imparate io, Sotto questo Signor, che sì s’honora, E sotto il dolce, & empio Signor mio. 20 0 (19 9)

Signor’ ite felice, ove’l disio Adhor adhor più chiaro vi richiama, A` far volar’ al ciel la vostra fama, Secura da la morte, e da l’ oblio; Ricordatevi sol, come rest’io, Solinga Tortorella in secca rama; Che senza lui, che sol sospira, e brama Fugge ogni verde pianta, e chiaro rio. Al mio cor fate cara compagnia, Il vostro ad altra Donna non donate Poi che à me sì fedel nol deste449 pria. Sopra tutto tornar vi ricordate, E, s’avien, che fia quando estinta io sia, De la mia rara fè non vi scordate.

The Rime O bitter fortune, O sudden change in faith! You sever my hopes and cut them off, while love, the cause of it all, lodges in my breast.450 19 9 (19 8)

If suffering makes a person strong and strength’s a lovely virtue—and most rare— then your court, Love, must surely be where I should go to learn it; no other court will do, for no one who spends time with you does not withstand a thousand fears and pains; to gain a light that only seems so bright we must tolerate dark shades and shadows. And one learns moderation too— for from whatever we desire most, we must, out of respect, sometimes abstain. These and other virtues I have gained under Love’s dominion, whereof he’s proud, and under my sweet and pitiless lord.451 20 0 (19 9)

Lord, go off happily where desires call you ever more loudly and resplendently to make your fame fly up to heaven, secure from death and from forgetfulness; remember only this—how I remain a lonely turtledove on a brittle branch, who sighs and longs, alone, for him she loves, fleeing every sparkling stream and verdant plant. Be a dear companion for my heart, and don’t give yours to any other woman, since you’ve never granted it to me—faithful as I am. Above all, remember to come back, and if it chances I’m already dead, then don’t let my rare faith be forgotten.

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Gaspara Stampa 20 1 (20 0)

Al partir vostro, s’è con voi partita Ogni mia gioia, & ogni mia speranza, L’ardir, la forza, il core, e la baldanza, E poco men, che l’anima, e la vita. E restò sol, più che mai fosse, ardita L’importuna, & ardente disianza, La quale in questa vostra lontananza Mi dà misera me doglia infinita. E, se da voi non vien qualche conforto O` di lettra, ò di messo, ò di venire, Certo Signor’ il viver mio fia corto. Perche in amor non è altro il morire, Per quel ch’ à mille, e mille prove ho scorto, Che haver poca speranza, e gran disire. 20 2 (20 1)

E` questa quella viva, e salda fede, Che promettevi à la tua Pastorella, Quando partendo à la stagion novella N’andasti, ove’l gran Re Gallico siede? O` di quanto il Sol scalda, e quanto vede Perfido ingrato in atto, et in favella; Misera me, che ti divenni ancella, Per riportarne sì scarsa mercede.452 Così l’afflitta, e misera Anassilla Lungo i bei lidi d’ Adria iva chiamando Il suo Pastor, da cui’l ciel dipartilla.453 E l’acqua e l’aure dolce risonando Allor che’l Sol più arde, e più sfavilla I suoi sospir’ al ciel givan portando. 20 3 (20 2)

Poi che per mio destin volgeste in parte Piedi, e voler’, onde perdei la spene Di riveder più mai quelle serene Luci, c’ho già lodate in tante carte,

The Rime 20 1 (20 0)

With your parting, there has gone with you my every joy, my every hope, my ardor, force, my heart, its courage, and there’s little to prevent my soul and life from going too. There remains with me alone, more potent than it’s been before, desire, burning and importunate, which because you’re far away brings me—alas—a grief that’s infinite. And if no comfort comes from letters or a messenger, or your return, then surely, lord, my life will be cut short, for love is nothing if not death, as I have proved a thousand times, like all those with little hope and great desire.454 20 2 (20 1)

“And this, this the firm and lively faith you promised your lithe shepherdess when, the season turning to spring, you left to travel to the throne of Gaul’s great king?455 Oh, wherever the sun scorches, its eyes see you, ungrateful in your words and deeds; wretched me, who chose to be your handmaiden456 and carried home such a pitiful prize!” So the desolate and wretched Anassilla along the Adriatic’s lovely shores, calling her shepherd, whom the heavens detained, and the water and wind sweetly echoing, there where the sun most burns and dazzles, carrying her sighs up to the sky. 20 3 (20 2)

Since you’ve turned yourself and your desires away from me—such is my destiny— and I’ve lost hope of seeing those lovely eyes again I’ve praised in so many pages,

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Gaspara Stampa Io mi volsi al gran Sole, e con quell’ arte, E quella luce, che da lui sol viene Trassi fuor da le Sirti, e de l’ arene457 Il legno mio, per via di remi, e sarte. La ragion fu le sarte, e i remi furo La volontà; che à l’ira & à l’orgoglio D’ Amor si fece poi argine, e muro. Così senza temer di dar’ in scoglio Mi vivo in porto homai queta, e sicura458 D’un sol mi lodo, e di nessun mi doglio. 20 4 (20 3)

Ardente mio disir’, à che pur vago De’ nostri danni in parte stendi l’ale, Ov’è, cui de’ miei stratij poco cale, E del mio trar fuor di quest’occhi un lago? Ben si può del mio stato esser presago Il partir de la speme fiacca, e frale; E la memoria, che sì poco assale Quel de le voglie mie tiranno, e mago. Egli à novi diletti aperto ha’l seno, E di me sì fedele ha quella cura, Che di chi non si vede e si459 può meno. Dunque tu di tornar’ à me procura, Che’l turbar la mia pace, e’l mio sereno E` troppo intempestiva cosa, e dura. 20 5 (20 7)

Poi che m’hai resa Amor la libertade Mantiemmi in questo dolce e lieto stato, Sì che’l mio cor sia mio, sì come è stato Ne la mia prima giovenil’ etade; O` se pur vuoi, che dietro à le tue strade, Amando, segua il mio costume usato, Fà, ch’io arda di foco più temprato; E che s’io ardo altrui n’habbia pietade. Perche mi par veder’ à certi segni Che ordisci novi lacci, e nove faci; E di ritrarmi al giogo tuo t’ingegni.

The Rime 460

I’ve turned myself to that great Sun, who alone has furnished me with the light and skill to draw my boat out from these shoals and sands by means of oars and sails: reason was my sail, the oars my will that opposed themselves as bank and wall to the pride and wrath of Love.461 I no longer fear destruction on some reef but live in harbor, quiet and secure, and praise a single sun, and for none grieve. 20 4 (20 3)

Raging desire, so eager to do me harm, why do you extend your wings toward him who cares little for my agony or the lake of tears that pours from my eyes? You might well have noted that hope itself has departed, always slight and frail, and memory no longer assails the tyrant and enchanter of my wishes. He’s opened up his heart to new delights and takes such little note of my fidelity that he could do no less were I unseen. So now make sure that you come back to me, since disturbing my sense of calm and peace is such a hard and tempestuous thing. 20 5 (20 7)

Since, Love, you’ve rendered me my liberty, keep me in this sweet and happy state, so that my heart’s my own, as once it was in those innocent days of my youth;462 or, if you want me to keep to my old ways and follow behind you on your amorous path, let me burn with a more temperate flame, and if I burn, may someone pity me; for I seem to see from certain signs463 that you’re fashioning new nets and darts, and conspiring to return me to your yoke.

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Gaspara Stampa Serbami Amor’ in queste brevi paci Amor, che contra me superbo regni, Amor, che nel mio mal sol ti compiaci. 20 6 (20 8)

Amor m’ha fatto tal, ch’io vivo in foco Qual nova Salamandra al mondo, e quale L’altro di lei non men stranio animale, Che vive, e spira nel medesmo loco. Le mie delitie son tutte e’l mio gioco Viver’ ardendo, e non sentire il male, E non curar, ch’ ei che m’induce à tale, Habbia di me pietà molto, nè poco. A` pena era anche estinto il primo ardore, Che accese l’altro Amore, à quel ch’ io sento Fin qui per prova più vivo e maggiore. Et io d’ arder’ amando464 non mi pento, Pur che chi m’ha di novo tolto il core Resti de l’arder mio pago, e contento. 20 7 (21 5)

Qual darai fine Amor’ à le mie pene, Se dal cenere estinto d’un’ ardore Rinasce l’altro, tua mercè, maggiore, E sì vivace à consumar mi viene? Qual ne le più felici e calde arene, Nel nido acceso sol di vario odore D’una Fenice estinta esce poi fore Un verme, che Fenice altra diviene. In questo io debbo a’ tuoi cortesi strali, Che sempre è degno, & honorato oggetto Quello onde mi ferisci, onde m’ assali. Et’hora è tale, e tanto, e sì perfetto Ha tante doti à la bellezza eguali, Che arder per lui m’è sommo alto diletto.

The Rime Preserve me, Love, in these brief moments of peace, Love, who rules as tyrant against me, Love, who takes pleasure in doing me harm. 20 6 (20 8)

Love has fashioned me so I live in flame. I’m some new salamander in the world, and like the animal who also lives and dies in one and the same place, no less strange.465 These are all my delights, and this my joy: to live in burning and never notice pain, nor do I ask him who reduced me to this state to pity me, much or a little. Hardly was that first passion spent when Love lit another, and what I’ve sensed thus far suggests this one’s more alive, more forceful. Of this consuming love I won’t repent, as long as he who’s newly taken my heart is satisfied with my burning, and content. 20 7 (21 5)

Love, when will you end my sufferings, if from the cold ashes of one passion a greater one’s reborn—all thanks to you— so powerful that it consumes me? Among those warm and happy desert sands, in a nest that burns from perfume alone, a worm crawls forth from a dead phoenix and becomes another phoenix in time.466 Love, your kindly arrows always find for me some worthy, glorious object by which I’m wounded and assailed. This one now’s so ripe with such perfection, his gifts the equal of his beauty, that to burn for him’s my chief delight.

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Gaspara Stampa 20 8 (21 6)

D’esser sempre esca al tuo concente foco E sempre segno a’ tuoi pungenti strali, D’esser sempre ministra de’ miei mali, Et haver sempre i miei tormenti à gioco, Io non mi doglio, Amor, molto, nè poco, Poi che dal dì, che’l desir prese l’ali Mi son fatti i martir proprij, e fatali, E libertade in me non ha più loco. Pur che tu mi conservi in questo stato Dov’ hor m’hai posta, e sotto quel Signore, Onde il cor novamente m’hai legato. O` mi fia dolce, ò tornerà minore Quanto son per per provar,467 quanto ho provato La sua rara bellezza, e’l suo valore. 20 9 (21 7)

A` che bramar Signor che venga manco Quel, che havete di me disire, e speme, S’ Amor, poi che per lui si spera e teme, I più giusti di lor non vide unqu’ anco? Che vuol dir, ch’ogni dì divien più franco Quel, che di voi desir m’ingombra e preme? La speme nò, che par ch’ogn’hor si sceme, Vostra mercede, ond’io mi snervo, e’mbianco; Ama chi t’ odia, grida da lontano, Non pur chi t’ama,468 il Signor, che la via Ci aperse in Croce da salir al cielo. Riverite la sua possente mano Non cercate Signor la morte mia, Che questo e’ l vero,469 & à Dio caro zelo. 21 0 (21 8)

Dove volete voi, & in qual parte Voltar speme, e disio, che più convegna, Se volete Signor far cosa degna Di quell’ Amor, ch’io vò spiegando in carte?

The Rime 20 8 (21 6)

Always to be the bait of your scorching flame, ever the target of your forceful arrows, always to have you as minister of my woes while—always—my suffering’s in play, Love, I can’t complain, much or at all, now or since the day desire first took wing and made these torments fatal and my own, forever depriving liberty of a place, as long as you preserve me in this state where you’ve put me, subject to that lord to whom my heart you’ve newly bound: either he’ll sweeten up to me, or all I’ve suffered for that valor and rare beauty— all that I’m about to suffer—will go aground. 20 9 (21 7)

To what purpose, lord, do you seek to love me less, your hopes to diminish, if Love who inspires our hopes and our fears has never seen more legitimate wishes? What can it mean that each day my desire for you—so oppressive—becomes more open? What’s ebbing away instead is my hope; no thanks to you, I’m worn out and tired. “Love your enemy,” he cries from afar, “not just those who love you”—this is Our Lord, who on the cross opened our way to heaven.470 You should revere his powerful hand, lord, instead of seeking my death, for love is true zeal, and dear to God. 21 0 (21 8)

Where do you want to turn your hope, and where does it most suit you, lord, to lodge your desires, if you want to make a worthy thing of that love I go about divulging on paper?471

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Gaspara Stampa Forse a Dio? già da Dio non si diparte Chi d’ Amor segue la felice insegna, Ei di sua bocca propria pur c’insegna Ad amar lui, e’l prossimo in disparte; Hor se devete amar, non è via meglio Amar me, che v’adoro, e che ho472 fatto Del vostro vago viso tempio, e speglio? Dunque amate, e servate amando il patto C’ha fatto Cristo; & amando io vi sveglio, Che amiate cor, che ad amar voi sia atto. 21 1 (20 9)

Io non veggio giamai giunger quel giorno, Ove nacque colui, che carne prese, Essendo Dio, per scancellar473 l’offese Del nostro padre, al suo fattor ritorno. Che non mi risovenga il modo adorno, Col quale, havendo Amor le reti tese Fra due begli occhi, & un riso, mi prese; Occhi, c’hor fan da me lunge soggiorno, E de l’antica ancor474 qualche puntura Io non senta disire,475 & al cor darmi Sì fà476 la piaga mia profonda, e dura. E se non che ragion pur prende l’ armi, E vince il senso, questa acerba cura Sarebbe hor tal, che non potrebbe aitarmi. 21 2 (21 0)

Veggio Amor tender l’arco, e novo strale Por ne la corda, e saettarmi il core, E non ben saldo ancor l’altro dolore Nova piaga rifarmi, e novo male. E sì il suo foco m’è proprio, e fatale, Sì son preda, e mancipio ogn’hor d’ Amore, Che, perche l’alma vegga il suo migliore, Ripararsi da lui nè vuol, nè vale. Ben’è ver, che la tela, che m’ordisce Sempre è di ricco stame; e quindi aviene Che ne’ suoi danni il cor pere, e gioisce.

The Rime Perhaps with God? He who pursues Love’s happy standards does not turn away from God: his very words teach us to love him and next to him, our neighbor. Now if you must love, what better way than this: to love me since I adore you—I’ve even made a temple and mirror of your pretty face. Thus love and, loving, observe the pact Christ made for us; and loving, I’ll awaken you to love a heart that’s fit for loving yours. 21 1 (20 9)

I no longer see that day arrive when he was born who took on our flesh477— a God, returned to undo the offense our father Adam wrought against his maker— that I don’t think back on the clever way Love caught me: extending his taut net between two fetching eyes and a smile, eyes that now sojourn so far away from me, and that I don’t feel again some ancient sting bite deep in my desires and my heart, to make this wound of mine deep and lasting. If reason weren’t poised to take up arms against it all and conquer passion, nothing could relieve this raw and aching care. 21 2 (21 0)

I’m watching478 Love extend his bow and thread new arrows on his string to strike my heart and render me new wounds and bring new pain even though the old one’s not yet healed— and so fatal and so well placed his flame, so servile and enslaved am I to love, that though my soul can make out what is best, it’s loath to hide and knows it would be vain. It’s true, the rare web he weaves for me is of finest thread, and so it happens that my heart rejoices even as it’s destroyed;

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Gaspara Stampa E’l ferro è tale, onde à ferirmi hor viene, Che si può dir, che chi per lui perisce Prova sol’una vita, e sommo bene. 21 3 (21 2)

Che farai alma? ove volgerai il piede, Qual sentier prenderai, che più ti vaglia? Tornerai à seguir’ Amor, che smaglia Ogni lorica, quando irato fiede? O` stanca, e satia de le tante prede, Fatte di te ne l’ aspra sua battaglia; T’ armerai sì che perch’ei pur t’assaglia, Non ti vincerà più qual suole, e crede. Il ritrarsi è sicuro, e’l contrastare E` glorioso; e l’esca che ci mostra, E` tal, che può nocendo anco479 giovare. Non perde e non vince anco huom, che non giostra, In queste imprese perigliose, e fiere480 Sì potria far maggior la gloria nostra. 21 4 (21 3)

Un veder torsi à poco à poco il core, Misera, e non dolersi de l’offesa; Un veder chiaro la sua fiamma accesa Nè gli altrui481 lumi, e non fuggir l’ardore. Un cercar volontario d’uscir fore De la sua libertà poco anzi resa, Un’haver sempre à l’altrui voglia intesa, L’alma vaga, e ministra al suo dolore. Un parer tutto gratia, e leggiadria Ciò che si vede in un’aspetto humano, Se parli, ò taccia, ò se si mova, ò stia, Son le cagion ch’io temo, non pian piano, Cada nel mar del pianto, ov’era pria La vita mia; e prego Dio che’n vano.

The Rime and his arrow’s such when he comes to wound, you could say whoever dies for him knows only then what life is, and its highest good. 21 3 (21 2)

What will you do, soul? Which way will you turn?482 Which path will you take, which one best suits you? Are you off to follow Love, who, when anger overtakes him, shatters all defenses? Or exhausted by the concessions you’ve made in this pitiless battle, will you arm yourself so no matter how he attacks, he won’t defeat you as he thinks he can? It’s safe to retreat, but in fighting there’s glory, and the bait that he shows us can harm while it brings pleasure. Unless he jousts, a man can’t win or lose; these fierce and dangerous exploits could make our glory even greater. 21 4 (21 3)

Watching the heart, little by little, being stolen away, and not to complain; seeing how clearly its flame is kindled by another’s eyes, and not to flee passion; seeking willingly to sacrifice a freedom that’s only recently gained; having a soul attuned to others’ wishes and in its own suffering an accomplice; seeming to find all lightness and grace in a single human face, and this whether he speaks or is silent, goes or stays: these are the reasons I fear that my life will be slowly drowned in a sea of tears, and I hope to God such fears are in vain.483

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Gaspara Stampa 21 5 (21 4)

La piaga, ch’io credea, che fosse salda, Per la homai molta assentia, e poco amore Di quell’alpestro, & indurato core, Fredda484 più che di neve fredda falda. Sì desta adhor’ adhora, e si riscalda, E gitta adhor’ adhor sangue, & humore, Sì che l’alma si vive anco in timore, Ch’esser devrebbe homai sicura, e balda. Nè perche cerchi agiunger novi lacci, Al collo mio, sò far, che molto, ò poco Quell’ antico mio nodo non m’impacci. Si suol pur dir, che foco scaccia foco, Ma tu Amor, che’l mio martir procacci, Fai che questo in me, lassa, hor non ha loco. 21 6 (21 9)

Ben si convien Signor, che l’ aureo dardo Amor v’habbia aventato in mezo il petto, Rotto quel duro, e quel gelato affetto Tanto à le fiamme sue ritroso, e tardo. Havendo à me col vostro dolce sguardo, Onde piove disir, gioia, e diletto; L’alma impiagata, e’l cor legato, e stretto Oltra misura, onde mi struggo & ardo. Men dunque acerbo dè parer’ à vui Esser nel laccio aviluppato, e preso, Ov’io sì stretta ancor legata fui. Zelo d’ ardente caritate acceso Esser conviene eguale homai fra nui Nel nostro dolce, & amoroso peso. 21 7 (22 0)

Signor, poi che m’havete il collo avinto Di sì485 tenace nodo, e così forte, Poi che à me piace, & Amor vuol, ch’io porte Nel cor voi solo, e nullo altro dipinto,

The Rime 21 5 (21 4) 4 8 6

The wound I thought was healed by now, thanks to the long absence and little love of his heart, obdurate as the Alps and colder than winter’s biting snows, is awakened now and then, and warmed, and now oozes pus, now brings forth blood, so that my soul dwells again in fear when by now it should be confident and bold. Nor even as I seek to tie a new noose around my neck can I be sure that ancient knot still won’t hold me fast. They say that fire chases fire away, but you, Love, bent on tormenting me, ensure that for me, alas, this proverb has no place. 21 6 (21 9) 4 8 7

Buried in your breast, lord, the gold arrow Amorous Love let fly, and it suits you— Reluctant and slow to take in its flames, That chill reserve now melts, frozen no more, Has you turn toward me your lovely gaze On which desire rains with joyous delight, Leaving souls bound, the heart constrained, Oh, to bursting—so I’m destroyed and burn. Maybe it seems to you less harsh now, Entering within a noose known before Only by me, so tightly I’ve been tied. Zealous to treat our neighbor as ourselves,488 Equally we burn, fired by charity: Neither knows more, or less, of love’s sweet burden. 21 7 (22 0)

Lord, now that you’ve encircled my neck with a noose that’s so tenacious and strong, now that Love’s asked that I carry you along painted on my heart, and no other489—and I’m content—

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Gaspara Stampa A` voi convien per quel gentil’ instinto, Che natura & virtù v’han dato in sorte, Volger pietoso le due fide scorte Verso chi di suo grado havete vinto. Carità, pace, fede, & humiltate Sian le nostr’ armi, onde si meni vita Rado, ò non mai menata in altra etate. E sia chi dica,490 ò coppia alma, e gradita, Ben’ havesti le stelle amiche e grate Sì dolcemente in un voler’ unita. 21 8 (21 1)

Qual sagittario, che sia sempre avezzo Trarre ad un segno, e mai colpo non falla; O` da propria vaghezza tratto, ò dalla Spene,491 c’ha da ritrarne honore, e prezzo, Amor, che nel mio mal mai non è sezzo, Torna à ferirmi il cor né mai si stalla; E la piaga hor risalda,492 apre, e rifalla, Né mi val s’io’l temo, ò s’io lo sprezzo. Tanto di me ferir diletto prende, E tal n’attende, e merca honor, c’homai Per quel, ch’io provo, ad altro non intende. Il vivo foco, ond’io arsi, e cantai Molti anni, à pena è spento, che raccende Dun’altro493 il cor, che tregua non ha mai. 21 9 (22 1)

A` mezo il mare, ch’io varcai tre anni Fra dubbi venti, & era quasi in porto, M’ha ricondotta Amor, che à si gran torto, E` ne’ travagli miei pronto, e ne’ danni. E per doppiare a’ miei disiri i vanni Un sì chiaro Oriente à gli occhi ha porto; Che, rimirando lui, prendo conforto, E par, che manco il travagliar m’affanni. Un foco eguale al primo foco io sento; E se in sì poco spatio questo è tale, Che de l’ altro non sia maggior, pavento.

The Rime it’s only fitting that the courteous instinct destined as yours by nature and virtue should prompt you to turn your eyes out of pity to the one you defeated—with her consent. Charity, peace, humility, faith: may these be our weapons for a life that’s led rarely, perhaps never in any other age.494 O blessed couple, may someone say, surely the stars have been friendly to you, you’re united so sweetly by a single will! 21 8 (21 1)

Like a marksman who’s ever eager to hit the target, and never fails, driven by either his fancy or the hope he’ll receive from it some gain and honor, when it comes to wounding me, Love never tires and never does he rest, and the wound that’s finally healed he’s opened and renewed; nor does it matter if I fear or scorn him, such delight he takes in hurting me, such gain does he expect from it—by now he cares for little else than what I suffer. The vibrant flame with which I burned and sang for many years was hardly spent, when this heart that knows no truce burned for another. 21 9 (22 1) 4 9 5

Just when I was almost in harbor, Love led me back to the midst of the sea I traversed three years amidst uncertain winds— Love does me wrong, ever ready to ensure my grief; and to redouble my wings’ desire, he’s offered my eyes such a bright port to the east that seeing it I take comfort, and I seem to be less troubled by my trials. A fire equal to the first I feel, and if it’s like this now after such brief time, I fear it will be greater than the other.496

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Gaspara Stampa Ma, che poss’io, se m’è l’arder fatale, Se volontariamente andar consento D’un foco in altro, e d’un’in altro male? 22 0 (29 7)

Di chi ti lagni ò mio diletto, e fido Sovra questo famoso, e chiaro lido, Ove fan nido tante honorat’ alme, Felici, & alme? Io mi lagno Signor di due begli occhi, Onde eterna dolcezza avien, che fiocchi, Nè par, che tocchi à lor, nè dia lor noia, Perch’io mi moia. Per le saette mie, per la mia face, Che’l tuo languir’ à gran torto mi spiace, Ma, s’egli piace à chi vuol, che ti sfaccia, Che voi, ch’io faccia? Vò, che tu, che sol poi soccorso darmi, Tu, che sei nostro Dio, tu c’hai fort’ armi, Onde aitarmi, ò tempri il duro core, O’l mio dolore. Mille fiate, e mille mi son messo Per saettar quegli occhi, e gir lor presso, Ma’l lume stesso sì m’ingombra, ch’io Non son più Dio. Hor se tanto essi, e tu sì poco vali, Perche non cedi lor l’arco, e gli strali, E faci, & ali, e’l tuo carro, e’l tuo Regno, Come à più degno? Io cederei di grado pur, che loco Mi desser que’ begli occhi, e strali, e foco, Ond’ apro, e cuoco; ma lor non aggrada, Che seco vada?497 Com’esser può, ch’ Amor voglia legarse, E farsi servo altrui, nè possa farse, E son sì scarse quelle vive stelle, Che stij con elle? Elle hanno à schivo, che di lor vittoria Habbia io stando con lor parte di gloria;

The Rime But what can I do if this burning is fatal, if willingly I consent to go from one fire to another, one evil to the next? 22 0 (29 7) 4 9 8

“O my faithful friend, of whom do you complain on these shores of worthiness and fame499 where to such acclaim souls make their kind happy and divine?” “Of two beautiful eyes, my lord, I do lament, from which there chances to fall eternal sweetness; they neither notice nor seem to cry that I do die.” “By these arrows of mine, by my torch that’s bright, I don’t like these death throes—they just aren’t right— but if they delight her who seeks to undo you, what can I do?” “But you—you’re the only one who can help me, you who are our god, you who can arm me, so now assist me: either temper her harsh belief or my harsh grief.” “A thousand times and more I have endeavored to strike those eyes with arrows and near them hover, but that light ever threatens to overwhelm me, so I’m no longer a deity.” “So you’re of such little worth! Now that you know, why don’t you give her those torches and bow along with your arrows, wings, your very reign, to frustrate her disdain?” “Willingly I’d relinquish these arrows and darts with which I seek to wound and burn women’s hearts, but no part of me will these lovely eyes accept, so I’m misprized.” “How can it be that Love wants to be a captive and make himself a servant, and yet can’t accomplish what he wishes; so stingy are these living stars that dwell with her?” “They’d consider worthless any victory in which I took part; I’d undermine her glory,

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Gaspara Stampa Perche d’istoria è men degno colui, Ch’è con altrui. Dunque senza speranza, e senza aita, Poi ch’è la Deitate tua finita Sarà mia vita il tempo, che m’avanza In disianza? Così fia lasso, & io la face, e l’arco, E le saette mie gitto ad un varco, Poi che son scarco, mercè di quel lume D’ogni mio Nume. Piangiamo insieme l’un la Deitate, L’altro la sua perduta libertate, Senza pietate500 di colei, che sola Tutto n’invola. Io volo al cielo, io resto fra quest’onde; Io Giove, io chiamerò chi non risponde, Aure seconde fate al mondo chiara Cosa sì rara.501 22 1 (24 6) 5 0 2 AL CRI STI ANIS S I M O R E D I F R A N CI A , H EN RI C O S E C O N D O .

Sacro re, che gli antichi, e novi regi, Quanti sono, ò fur mai eccelsi, e degni, Per forza di valor propria, e d’ingegni Vinci; e te stesso, e tutto’l mondo fregi. Et a’ più chiari spirti, et a’ più egregi, A’ più felici, e più sublimi ingegni La via d’alzarsi al ciel scrivendo insegni, Con la materia de’ tuoi tanti pregi, Volgi dal tron de la tua Maestade, Sereno il ciglio, onde queti, e governi Popoli, e Regni à la mia humiltade. Che, se tu aspiri a’ miei disiri interni, Spero vil Donna à la futura etade, Far con tant’ altri i tuoi gran fatti eterni.

The Rime for history teaches that no one cares one’s fame to share.” “I’m left without hope, and without recourse, now that your deity has run its course; will the force that’s left at this point to me be spent in longing?” “That’s indeed how it shall be, alas! I’ll fling my bows, my darts, into the pass, since I’m at the last—thanks to that fire— of all my powers.” “Let’s weep together, then: the one, his deity will lament, the other his lost liberty, and provoke no pity in the woman who alone has all overthrown.” “I fly to heaven.” “I drown in this sea.” “I’ll beseech Jove.” “And I, her who won’t respond to me.” Tender breeze, spread the word everywhere of this love so rare. 22 1 (24 6) TO TH E M O ST CH R I S T I A N K I N G OF F R A N C E , H E N RY I I .

Sacred king,503 who conquers kingdoms ancient and modern no matter how worthy they are, or were—through the sheer force of your valor and intellect you adorn yourself, and all the world— you who offer the most famous and esteemed, the happiest and most sublime of wits the way to heaven, inspiring them to write of you and all of your merits, turn504 that serene brow from your throne of majesty where you subdue and govern peoples and kingdoms, to myself in my humility: should you heed my innermost desires, I, lowly woman, hope with many others to make your great deeds famous for eternity.

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Gaspara Stampa 22 2 (24 7) ALLA CRI STI AN I S S I M A R EI N A D I F R A N CI A , CAT ER I N A D E’ M ED I CI .

Alma reina, eterno, e vivo sole, Prodotta ad illustrar’ Imperij, e Regni, E congiunta al maggior Re, c’hoggi regni, Cara sì, che con voi vuole, e non vuole; Date à l’ingegno mio rime, e parole, Onde possa adombrar con quai può segni Quanto la vostra altezza, e i pregi degni Il mondo tutto riverisce e cole. Lasciate, ch’à la fama, e à gli scrittori, Che parleran di voi sì chiaramente505 Io donna da lontan possa andar dietro. Lasciate, ch’io di sì famosi allori, M’adorni il crin’ à la futura gente; O` qual gratia mi fia se questo impetro. 22 3 (24 8)

Tu, che traesti dal natio paese, Le nostre Muse tutte, & Elicona Là, dove regge il Rodano, e la Sona, Il maggior Re, che viva, e’l più cortese, Et hor con voi son tutte ad una intese, Insieme col gran figlio di Latona, A` celebrar quella Real Corona, E le sue tante, e gloriose imprese. Chiaro ALAMANNI io vorrei ben’anch’io Venir’ in parte di cotanto honore, E lodar lui con voi, e poi voi anco. Ma s’oppone à l’immenso mio disio, L’esser’io donna, e vil, preda d’ Amore, Lo spirto è pronto, ma lo stil’ è stanco. 22 4 (24 9)

Alma Fenice, che con l’auree piume, Prendi fra l’altre Donne un sì bel volo;

The Rime 22 2 (24 7) TO TH E M O ST CH R I S T I A N QU EEN OF F R A N C E , CAT ER I N A D E’ M ED I CI .

Noble queen,506 eternally vibrant sun, born to make kingdoms and empires famous, wed to the greatest king who reigns among us, so dear to him that your desires are his own, give to my talent rhymes and words, so I may try to sketch with greater skill how much the world honors and reveres your worthy attributes and your nobility. Let other writers and the voice of Fame speak of you in illustrious ways, while I, a woman, follow from afar; let my hair be adorned with your famous laurels by some future race. Oh, what grace would be mine, my wish fulfilled! 22 3 (24 8)

You who lured from their native home not just our Muses but Helicon itself to the land where the greatest and most gracious king who lives rules over the Seine and the Rhône,507 and now together with Latona’s great son,508 all of you are of a single mind to praise that royal crown and his many endeavors so glorious. Famous Alamanni, I too would like to come take part in such an honor, praising him with all of you—and you as well; but opposing my desire, so deep, is I myself, a woman, lowly prey to Love: the spirit’s willing, but the style is weak.509 22 4 (24 9)

Noble phoenix, who with your golden plumes take flight,510 soaring beautifully above other women,

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Gaspara Stampa Ch’ Adria, et Italia, e l’uno, e l’altro Polo Tutto di meraviglia empi, e di lume. Bellezza eterna, angelico costume, Petto d’honeste voglie albergo solo, Deh, perche non poss’io, come vi colo, Versar scrivendo d’eloquentia un fiume? Che spererei de la più sacra fronde Così Donna qual sono, ornarmi il crine, E star con Saffo, e con Corinna à lato. Poi che lo stil’ al desir511 non risponde Fate voi co’ be’ rai luci divine, Chiare voi stesse, e questo mar beato. 22 5 (25 0)

Voi n’andaste Signor senza me, dove Il gran Troian fermò le schiere erranti, Ov’io nacqui, ove luce vidi innanti Dolce sì, che lo star mi spiace altrove. Ivi vedrete vaghe feste, e nove Schiere di donne, e di cortesi amanti, Tanti,512 che ad honorar vengono, e tanti Un de li Dei più cari al vero Giove. Et io rimasa qui, dov’ Adria regna, Seguo pur voi, e’l mio natio paese, Col pensier, che non è, chi lo ritegna. Venir col resto il mio Signor contese, Che senza ordine suo, ch’io vada, ò vegna, Non vuole Amor, poi che di lui m’accese. 22 6 (25 1)

Mentre chiaro Signor per voi s’attende, A` poggiar nel camin, ch’al ciel vi mena Per via di lingue, & di scientie, e vena, Che’l vostro nome in tutto il mondo stende, Io Donna, e vil, cui desir’ egual prende, E l’acque di Castalia ho viste à pena; Vorrei venirvi dietro, e non ho lena, Che la bassezza mia tant’ opra offende.

The Rime filling Adria and Italy and both the world’s poles with marvel and light, eternal beauty, bearing like an angel, breast that harbors only chaste desiring, ah, why can’t I pour forth a stream of eloquence as I honor you in writing? What I would give for that most sacred wreath to adorn my tresses, woman that I am, and stand alongside Sappho and Corinna!513 But my style doesn’t answer to my desire, so use your lovely eyes and lights divine, and make yourself renowned and this sea blessed. 22 5 (25 0)

Lord, you went without me, to the place where the great Trojan paused with his wandering troops: that’s where I was born and had my first glimpse of light so sweet it pains me to be elsewhere.514 There you’ll see such lovely celebrations, arrays of women and gracious lovers, and all the many who come to honor one of the gods to the true Jove most dear.515 I’m left here where the Adriatic reigns, and can follow you and my native land only in thought, for no one can stop me. My own courtly lord countered516 my going; Love asks that I do nothing without his command, neither go nor stay, as long as he inflames me. 22 6 (25 1)

While, great lord, the path awaits that will take you to the heavens—your talent, your knowledge, your fluency in letters spread your name throughout the world517— I, a lowly woman seized by similar desires, have scarcely caught a glimpse of Castalia’s spring;518 I’d like to follow you, but I haven’t the strength, and my baseness insults such worthy work.

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The Rime filling Adria and Italy and both the world’s poles with marvel and light, eternal beauty, bearing like an angel, breast that harbors only chaste desiring, ah, why can’t I pour forth a stream of eloquence as I honor you in writing? What I would give for that most sacred wreath to adorn my tresses, woman that I am, and stand alongside Sappho and Corinna!513 But my style doesn’t answer to my desire, so use your lovely eyes and lights divine, and make yourself renowned and this sea blessed. 22 5 (25 0)

Lord, you went without me, to the place where the great Trojan paused with his wandering troops: that’s where I was born and had my first glimpse of light so sweet it pains me to be elsewhere.514 There you’ll see such lovely celebrations, arrays of women and gracious lovers, and all the many who come to honor one of the gods to the true Jove most dear.515 I’m left here where the Adriatic reigns, and can follow you and my native land only in thought, for no one can stop me. My own courtly lord countered516 my going; Love asks that I do nothing without his command, neither go nor stay, as long as he inflames me. 22 6 (25 1)

While, great lord, the path awaits that will take you to the heavens—your talent, your knowledge, your fluency in letters spread your name throughout the world517— I, a lowly woman seized by similar desires, have scarcely caught a glimpse of Castalia’s spring;518 I’d like to follow you, but I haven’t the strength, and my baseness insults such worthy work.

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Gaspara Stampa Però mi resto, e di lontan sospiro, I nobil frutti de l’ingegno vostro, Che con tant’ altri già tant’ anni ammiro. Quei son la vera porpora, e’l ver’ ostro, Gli archi, e le statue, se ben dritto miro, Che rendon chiaro, e caro il secol nostro. 22 7 (25 2)

Se voi non foste à maggior cose volto, Onde’l vostro splendor VENIER sormonte, Havendo sì gran stil, rime sì pronte, E de’ lacci d’amore essendo sciolto. Vi pregherei, che’l valor’, e’l bel volto E l’altre gratie del mio chiaro Conte, A` la futura età faceste conte, Poi che’l poterlo519 fare à me è tolto. E faceste ancor conto il foco mio, E la mia fede oltra ogni fede ardente Degna d’eterna vita, e non d’oblio. Ma poi degno rispetto nol consente, Vedrò tal qual’ io sono adombrarn’io Una minima parte solamente. 22 8 (25 3)

SPERON, ch’à l’opre chiare, et honorate Spronate ogn’un col vostro vivo essempio, Mentre d’ogni atto vile illustre scempio, Con l’arme del valor vincendo fate, Poi che di seguir’ io vostre pedate, Per me l’ardente mio desir non empio; Voi, d’ogni cortesia ricetto, e tempio, A` venir dopo voi la man mi date. Sì che, come ambe due produsse un nido, Ambe due alzi un vol, vostra mercede, E venga in parte anch’io del vostro grido. Così d’ Antenor quell’ antica sede, E questo d’ Adria fortunato lido, Faccian de’ vostri honor mai sempre fede.

The Rime So I’ll stay where I am: from afar I’ll sigh for the noble fruits of your mind I’ve admired with others for many years. If I discern aright, these are the true glories,520 the triumphal arches and the statues that make our age memorable and dear. 22 7 (25 2)

If you weren’t turned to greater things to elevate your own splendor, Venier,521 I’d ask you—since you’ve rhymes at the ready and such fine style, and are freed from the noose of love— to ensure that the valor and gorgeous face and other graces of my worthy count522 were to a future age of some account, since the means to do so myself are denied me. And you could make sure that my fire counts, and my faith that all others’ outshines—worthy not of oblivion, but eternal life. But respect for you doesn’t let me ask, and I’ll see if I can venture such as I am to adumbrate the smallest part of my passion. 22 8 (25 3)

Speroni,523 with your living example you spur us on to bright and honorable deeds, while with your arms of valor you make all other illustrious acts foolish and lowly. Alone, my burning desire to follow your footsteps does not suffice—please, give me your hand so I may come after you, temple and vessel of all gentility, so just as one nest gave birth to us both,524 may one flight exalt us two with your grace, and let me share (in part) in your acclaim. Thus may that ancient site of Antenor and Adria’s fortunate shores525 forever keep faith with your honorable name.

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Gaspara Stampa 22 9 (29 9)

Alma celeste, e pura, Che casta, e verginella Stata tanto fra noi sei gita al cielo, Dov’hor sovra misura Ti stai lucente e bella Di più perfetto accesa, e maggior zelo; Perche nel mortal velo Rade volte altrui lice Unir perfettamente Al suo Fattor la mente Sì trista è del nostro arbor la radice, E sì forte n’atterra Questa del senso perigliosa guerra. Tu vagheggi hor beata Quell’infinito Sole, Di cui quest’ altro Sole è picciol raggio; E la voglia appagata Hai sì, ch’altro non vuole, Giunta à l’ultimo fin di suo viaggio, E la noia, e l’oltraggio, E l’ombra di quel male, Che sostenesti in vita, E` per sempre sbandita, Salita in parte, ove dolor non sale; Ove si vive sempre Col primo Amor’ in dilettose tempre. Ben può gradirsi altero Il nostro sesso homai Per tanta Donna, e tanto à CHRISTO amica, Che, mancato il primiero Valor, spenti que’ rai, Ch’illustrar già la santa schiera antica, In questa età nemica, Dove’l vitio governa, Sia stata una di noi, Che tutti i pensier suoi Habbia rivolto à quella luce eterna; E qui fra queste rive Sia vissa sempre, come in ciel si vive.

The Rime 22 9 (29 9) 5 2 6

Celestial soul and pure, virginal and chaste you were when here among us; now you’re in heaven where exceeding all measure you’re luminous and beautiful, ascended to perfection and great zeal; for in this mortal veil527 only rarely are we allowed to be perfectly united with our maker’s mind. So evil it is, the root of our tree, so strong the earthly force of this war of the senses, and dangerous. Blessed, you turn your desires to that infinite Sun, next to which our sun’s but a ray of light;528 and your wish fulfilled, you ask for nothing else, come to the end of your voyage, and the troubles and outrage and the shadow of that evil you sustained in life are forever banished, since you’ve arrived where there’s no sorrow— where one lives always with First Love in delightful strains. Of such a woman we may be proud, our sex, of such a great friend of Christ, who—that age of first perfection gone, its rays spent that once illumined the saintly company— in this unfriendly age when vice has the governance, a woman like us, turned all her thoughts to that eternal light, and who here among these shores529 will live forever, just as she dwells in heaven secure.

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Gaspara Stampa Adria si lagna parte Del tuo da lei partire, Parte s’allegra, poi ch’al ciel sei gita; Che s’udirte e parlarte Le ha tolto il tuo morire Hor, che sei sempre al Sommo ben’unita; Potrai chiedergli aita, Quando il bisogno fia; Certo soccorso, e fido Per lo tuo chiaro nido, Sì, che sicuro, e glorioso fia, E fin quanto il Sol giri Ciascun lo tema, riverisca, e ammiri. Da que’ superni chiostri, Ov’hor sicura siedi, Tutta raccolta in chi di se ti prese; Gli ardenti sospir nostri A` temprar talhor riedi Con le voglie d’ Amor più vive, e accese Mira madre cortese I tuoi diletti figli, E la530 lor mesta casa, Hor senza te rimasa, A` le terrene noie, & a’ perigli; E siale ancor lontana Scorta e più che mai fida Tramontana. Se’n te, quant’è disio, fosse valore, Potresti leggiermente Alzarti al ciel fra quella santa gente. 23 0 (30 0)

Alma honorata, e saggia, che partendo531 Dopo sì lungo corso, onde venisti, Vergine e pura qual dal ventre uscisti, Lasciato hai noi piangendo, e disiando, Et hor davanti al tuo principio stando, A` cui vivendo ancor qua giù t’unisti De le degne opre tue mercede acquisti, E d’esser gita lui mai sempre amando.

The Rime Adria laments, in part, your parting from her; and yet she delights that you’ve gone to heaven. Death no longer lets you talk to us, or us to you, now that you’re always there with the highest good; yet you can ask his aid when the need arises to bring some help to your faithful and illustrious nest and make it glorious, and safe; and may all fear her while the sun turns, and admire and revere her. From those supernal heights where secure you rest, gathered unto him who took you there, our fervent sighs may you return to temper sometimes with most lively thoughts of Love. Kindly mother, see your gentle children and their grief-stricken house now left without you; in these earthly bothers and concerns, may you be our faroff guide and ever faithful north star. Song, if you had as much virtue as you had desire, you could easily ascend to heaven to be among that holy people.532 23 0 (30 0)

Soul honored and wise,533 after such a long journey, you’ve returned to the place whence you came, virginal and pure as when you left the womb, abandoning us here to tears and desiring. And now you’re before your true beginning to whom you were already bound when here below, nor, since you love him, will you ever lose him, as you’re rewarded for your works—so worthy.

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Gaspara Stampa Mira dal cielo i tuoi diletti figli, Qual del tuo dipartir, cordoglio prema, Et Adria, che con lor t’honora, et ama. Quelli non è chi534 più guidi, ò consigli Senza il tuo senno; e questa resta scema Di chi le mostri ogn’hor, come Dio s’ama. 23 1 (30 1)

Casta, cara, e di Dio diletta ancella, Che vivuta fra noi tanti, e tant’anni Ti sei sempre schermita da gli inganni Di questa vita neghittosa, e fella. Et hor semplice e pura verginella Sei gita à volo à quei superni scanni, Vero porto & eterno de gli affanni D’ogni nostr’ atra, e torbida procella. Adria ha visto, e veder spera ancor segno De la tua santa, e gloriosa vita, E fiorir frutti del tuo santo ingegno. E de’ tuoi dolci figli insieme unita La schiera, che ti fu sì caro pegno Pur535 te sospira mesta, e sbigottita. 23 2 (30 2)

Quelle lagrime spesse, e sospir molti, Che mandan fuor’ i tuoi figli diletti, Poi che salisti al regno de gli eletti Alma felice, che dal ciel n’ascolti, Sien da la vera tua pietate accolti Qual si conviene a’ lor’ ardenti affetti; E quei pensier’ hor casti e benedetti Sieno à la cura lor se mai fur volti, E, sì come qua giù fosti lor guida, E madre, e scorta, così sù dal cielo Sij lor la vera Tramontana, e fida. Sì che tutti infiammati di quel zelo, Che per dritto sentier’ à te ne guida Di quest’ombre qua giù squarciamo il velo.

The Rime From heaven on your beloved ones gaze, weighted down by grief since your departure, and on Adria, who honors and loves you so. Without you, your children have no one left to guide them or help them, and Adria too is bereft: how will they learn to love God each day? 23 1 (30 1)

Handmaiden of God,536 chaste, delightful, and dear, who while living among us for so many years shielded yourself from all the deceits of this life that’s so wicked and indolent: now, little virgin, innocent and pure, you’ve returned in flight to those supernal realms— true eternal harbor from our labors and all of our dark and torrid storms. Adria’s seen and hopes to see again some proof of your saintly, glorious life, some fruits to flower from your holy mind, and the throng of your sweet children to whom you were committed so unite in grief, confused, and for you sigh. 23 2 (30 2)

Those many sighs, those tears unleashed by the children in whom you took delight— contented soul, now that you’ve ascended to the realm of the elect, you can hear them from heaven: moved by true pity, may you gather within their ardent affections, and as you once turned your chaste and blessed mind to their care, please do so now again. Just as here below, you were once their guide and mother, now from heaven above please be their north star, faithful and true, so that all inflamed by the holy love that leads us to you on straight paths, we may rend the veil of these shadows here below.537

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Gaspara Stampa 23 3 (30 3)

Quando quell’alma, i cui disiri ardenti Sempre resse virtute, & honestate, Finito il corso di sua lunga etate Salì al cielo, i mortai lumi spenti. L’eterno Re de le ben nate genti Raccolse lei ne la sua Maestate, E quelle squadre angeliche, e beate, Empiero il ciel di non usati accenti. Vieni diletta Virginella, e pura, S’udia dolce cantare, à corre il frutto De la tua castità lieta, e sicura. Vieni fedel, che disdiceva in tutto Star sì raro miracol di Natura, Sì gentil pianta in un terreno asciutto.538 23 4 (28 6)

Qual’ è fresc’ aura539 à l’estiv’ hora ardente A` la stanca, e sudata Pastorella; Qual’ è à chi dorme in riva herbosa, e bella, Il mormorar d’un bel cristal corrente, Qual di Sol raggio in bel prato ridente A` fior, che langue à la stagion novella; Qual certo porto à dubbia navicella, Ch’esce fuor di tempesta aspra, e repente, Tal fù il vostro apparir gradito tanto, PRIULI nostro, à nostre luci meste, E le rime, ch’à gli altri han tolto il vanto. Quell’ à noi stesse nè540 fu caro, e queste, Dopo il dipor del terren vostro manto, Ne faran chiare ovunque Amor si deste. 23 5 (25 4)

ZANNI, quel chiaro e quel felice ingegno, Che splende in voi, e quel sommo valore, Di cui non ha per quel, che s’ode fuore, Adria più ricco, e più leggiadro pegno,

The Rime 23 3 (30 3)

When that soul who desired so ardently nothing but virtue and true chastity reached the end of her lengthy course and ascended to heaven, her mortal lights spent, the eternal king of all gentle people gathered her into his majesty, and his troops, angelic and blessed,541 filled the heavens with unaccustomed song: “Come, little virgin, beloved and pure”— so they sweetly sang—“to gather the fruits of your chastity, now happy and secure. Come, faithful one, who rejected all to become a rare miracle of nature, a gentle plant in arid soil.”542 23 4 (28 6)

Just as a fresh breeze in the summer’s scorching heat is welcome to a tired, laboring shepherdess, the murmuring of a lovely crystal stream to a sleeper on a grassy riverbank, a ray of sun playing on a laughing meadow to a drooping flower in the new season, or a secure harbor to an errant boat543 escaping from a harsh and sudden storm, so welcome to our sorrowing eyes, Priuli, your arrival and your rhymes,544 which have taken from all others the prize. As dear as your coming was to us, so shall these verses, once your earthly mantle’s left behind, make you famous wherever love’s aroused. 23 5 (25 4)

Zanni, of a bright and happy intellect that shines in you and such great worth545— an example richer or more elegant Adria has not one, as is known far and wide—

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Gaspara Stampa Io quanto posso humile à inchinar vegno, Serva di cortesia, serva d’ Amore, Dogliosa sol, che in così santo ardore Non van le forze del disir’ al segno. Perche à ridir per via di rime à pieno Quanto io v’honoro, e quanto e’l546 vostro merto Ogn’altro stil, che’l vostro verria meno. Voi sol col passo saldo, e passo certo In questo d’ Adria, e fortunato seno Salite al monte faticoso, & erto. 23 6 (25 5)

Conte, quel vivo, & honorato raggio, Che splende fuor del vostro chiaro ingegno Per via di rime, & è già giunto à segno, Che ò l’ha con pochi, ò non ha alcun paraggio. E` frutto sol del vostro santo, e saggio Petto, d’ogni virtù nido, e sostegno; Ch’io per me propria, se à stimarmi vegno Non pur per darmi547 altrui lume non haggio. E, se tal volta vò spiegando in carte Oscure e basse, qualche mio martire Amor, che me lo dà, dammi anche l’arte. Voi per voi sol potete al ciel salire Cigno gentil, sì ch’altri non v’ha parte, Così potess’io il vostro vol seguire. 23 7 (25 7)

O` inaudita, e rara cortesia Donar’ i pregi del suo proprio honore Ad una Donna humil, che’l proprio core Non pur’ altro non ha, che di lei sia. Ben v’havea fra tutti altri alzato pria A` chiaro segno il vostro alto valore, Senza nova cercar gloria, e splendore, Per questa disusata e rara via, Sì che non resti modo alcuno in terra, Ond’huom possa poggiar per farsi chiaro Non cerco da l’illustre VINCIGUERRA.

The Rime I come to bow before you, humble as they get, servant of love, servant of courtesy, grieving only over this: my holy ardor lacks the force to attain what it desires because—to say again, in full, by way of rhyme how much I honor you, how great your merit— all other styles but yours will fail. You alone in all of Adria with firm and certain step and fortunate breast ascend the mount that’s steep and arduous. 23 6 (25 5)

Count,548 whose lively honored ray of light shines forth from your celebrated wit by means of rhyme, and has already hit the mark in a fashion few or none can equal, this is the fruit of your wise and holy breast, support and nest of all that’s excellent;549 as for myself, I cannot attempt to give to others a light I do not possess. And if at times I go about explaining what I suffer in obscure and lowly pages, Love, who caused it all, gives me the art to tell it. You can soar to heaven on your wings alone, my gentle swan, and others play no part in it: if only I could follow in your flight! 23 7 (25 7)

O rare, unheard-of courtesy! To dedicate the fruits of your own honor to a humble woman who has nothing she can call her own—least of all her heart. You now excel all others, having raised your valor to such a high mark— while this rare, uncommon life that’s yours leaves you untempted by new glory; so there remains no other way on earth for man to elevate himself for fame: don’t look beyond the well-known Vinciguerra.550

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Gaspara Stampa O` spirto in mille guise eccelso, e raro, Qual vena d’eloquentia petto serra, Che possa gir’ à le tue lodi à paro? 23 8 (25 6)

Quel lume, che’l mar d’ Adria empie, et avampa Di sì bei frutti, e di sì degni effetti Per via di prose, e versi alti, & eletti,551 Che Natura, & Amor Conte, in voi stampa. E` lume proprio de la vostra lampa, E frutti de’ vostr’alti, e bei concetti, E non reflesso de gli oscuri obietti Di me misera, afflitta, e lassa Stampa. E se vostra infinita caritade Me bassa, e grave di terreno peso Di così rare lode empie & ingombra. Al fin ritorna in voi la chiaritade, Che di nessuna indegnità ripreso Fate sparir la lode altrui qual’ombra.552 23 9 (25 9)

Se quanta acqua ha Castalia, & Elicona Beveste tutta, e sì felicemente Chiaro Signor, che poi le vene spente, Restasser secche ad ogn’altra persona. Come poss’io quando desio mi sprona, A` dir di voi si caldo, e sì sovente Sperar di pur’ adombrar solamente, Quanto di voi si stima, e si ragiona? Anzi, perche non pur’ i versi miei, Non posson dir quant’io v’honoro, e colo, Ma mille Lini meco, e mille Orfei, O` voi dite di voi, ò di me solo, Sappia il mondo, ch’io volsi,553 e non potei Alzarmi pigra à sì gradito volo.

The Rime O spirit in a thousand ways unique and rare, what breast conceals within such eloquence that can stand beside the praise you give to others? 23 8 (25 6)

That light that fills the sea of Adria to flooding with such pretty fruits and worthy works, by means of prose and noble, lofty verses that love and nature, Count, have stamped in you, is light that comes from your own lamp, fruit of your lofty, beautiful conceits, and by no means reflects my own dark features– me, the poor, afflicted, wretched Stampa.554 And if your endless acts of charity fill up and burden with such rare praise lowly me, encumbered by this earthly weight, whatever we may say of you, you make it vanish like a shadow, as glory unstained by all indignities returns to you alone. 23 9 (25 9)

If all the waters on Mounts Helicon and Parnassus555 were happily imbibed by you, famed lord, so all the veins ran dry for any others who approached them, what am I to do when desire spurs me to speak of you so warmly and so often; how can I hope even to adumbrate how much you’re talked about and esteemed? And yet the failure’s not just mine: with me, a Linus or an Orpheus,556 multiplied a thousand times, could not do you justice. Thus either tell the world of you or just of me so that all may know that I—indolent— could not rise up to such a longed-for flight.

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Gaspara Stampa 24 0 (26 0)

Io vorrei ben MOLIN, ma non ho l’ale Da prender tanto, e sì gradito volo557 Portar scrivendo à l’uno e l’altro558 polo, L’alta cagion del mio foco immortale. Che l’ opra e la materia è tanta, e tale, Et io son sì dal mal vinta, e dal duolo, Che à ciò non basto, e voi bastate solo, Od altrui stile al vostro stile eguale. Voi far fiorir potete eternamente559 Il Colle, ch’amo; voi farlo lodando, Novo Parnaso à la futura gente. Io vo ben ciò talhor meco provando, Quanto mi detta il mio desir’ ardente; Ma forse scemo sue lode cantando, 24 1 (26 1)

Tu, ch’à gli antichi spirti vai di paro, E con le dotte, & honorate rime, Rischiari l’acque, e fai fiorir le cime Del Colle, ove si sale hoggi sì raro, Movi il canto MOLIN canoro, e chiaro Se mai movesti; e’l mio Colle sublime, Fà fiorir fra le cose al mondo prime, Poi ch’à me il ciel di farlo è stato avaro. A` me die solo amarlo, e l’amo560 quanto Sì puote amar; ma’l celebrarlo poi, E` d’altro stil’ incarco, che di Donna. Qui convien sol la tua cetra, e’l tuo canto, Chiaro Signor, tu sol descriver puoi, Questa del viver mio salda colonna. 24 2 (26 2)

Voi, che fate sonar da Battro à Tile, Onde il Sol viene à noi, onde si parte, Quel chiaro stil, che’l cielo vi comparte, Che può d’horrido verno far’ Aprile.

The Rime 24 0 (26 0)

Molin,561 here’s what I’d like—although I’ve not the wings to sustain me on the cherished flight562— to use my pen to carry to both poles the renowned cause of my immortal flame,563 and yet the work and its matter are so great, and I so beaten down from grief and pain, that I am not sufficient—you alone can do it, or those whose style equals your own. You can make the hill I love spring forth in flowers for all time; you’ve made a new Parnassus for poets still to come in praising him.564 I myself have tried, inscribing what my ardent desires tell me to, but perhaps I undo his praise in singing. 24 1 (26 1)

You who travel hand in hand with ancient bards and with your learned and honored rhymes refresh the waters and make the peaks of the hill so few now climb burst forth with flowers, if you’ve ever moved with song, Molin, sing now, melodious and clear; and be the one to make my hill, sublime, among the best things of the world, since heaven won’t show me how.565 It’s given me to love him, and I do—as much as one can love, but praising him requires another style, and not that of a woman. Your lyre alone, famed lord, only your song is fitting; you alone can tell of him who is the steady column of my life. 24 2 (26 2)

You who sound those clear notes that heaven has consigned to you from Bactria to Thule,566 from where the sun arrives to where it fades, so making spring of horrid winter,

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Gaspara Stampa O` à soggetto men basso, e men vile,567 Le vostre rime in tutto’l mondo sparte, Rivolgete, ò pregate Amor’ ex parte, Che faccia me à voi non dissimile. Sì, che qual sono i vostri versi gai Sia egual la materia; e regni, e viva Quanto il Sol gira, e quanto ne sperai. Che, s’ella è di valor’ in tutto priva, E quei sì chiari, indegna opra dirai, D’ Adria felice & honorata riva. 24 3 5 6 8

S’amor Natura al nobil’ intelletto Vostro, fece spiegar tant’ alto l’ale; Che vince, e preme ogn’altra opra mortale Di qual si voglia stil’ alto, e perfetto. Perche dolervi ogn’hor, ch’ Amor’ il petto Trapassi à voi con sì honorato strale, S’egli vi scorge, ove per se non sale, Chi non prova d’ Amor cotanto affetto? L’erta, & alpestra, e faticosa via, Ov’egli vi guidò sicuramente Da voi questo dolor levar devria. Lodando lui, che così agevolmente Sola v’ addusse, dove altri disia, Chiara, illustre, famosa eternamente. 24 4 (26 4)

E` sì569 gradito, e sì dolce l’obietto Del mio foco, Signor’ e tanto, e tale, Che di soffrir’ ardendo non mi cale Ogni acerbo martir’, ogni dispetto. Duolmi sol, ch’io non sia degno ricetto Di tanto bene’,570 e à tanta fiamma eguale; E che’l mio stil sia infermo, stanco, e frale A` portar l’opra, ove giugne il concetto. E sopra tutto duolmi, che la ria Mia fortuna s’ingegna sì sovente. A` dilungar da me la gloria mia.

The Rime either turn these rhymes you spread throughout the world to greater subjects, less base and lowly than myself, or pray that love will make me not dissimilar to what you write, so that the matter may be equal to your pleasant verses, and survive as long as the sun turns round, and hope is mine. For if there’s no value in the matter of these brilliant rhymes, then, happy shores of Adria, you’ll say the work’s undignified.571 24 3

If Love made nature give your noble intellect wings and let it soar so high— so defeating every other mortal work for which is sought a lofty, perfect style— then why do you so complain that Love transfixes you each hour with such an honored arrow, and watches you climb where those who don’t know love’s affections cannot go? This steep and tiring alpine way where he’s guided you so securely will surely take away all pains. In praising him you’ve easily attained alone that height others only dream of, lady, renowned and famous for eternity. 24 4 (26 4)

The object of my fire is so sweet and my lord so pleasing that I care not that I burn, suffering this bitter martyrdom, and all that’s done to vex me. This alone I grieve, that I’m not a worthy vessel for such good, unequal to the flame, and my infirm style’s too weak and lame to carry the work to where its conception leads. But more than anything, I bemoan my evil fortune, which conspires so often to deprive me of the source of my renown.

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Gaspara Stampa Che mi giova Signor, che fra la gente; Illustre, come dite, & chiara io sia Se dentro l’alma mia gioia non sente? 24 5 (26 5)

Il gran terror de le nimiche squadre, Che sotto il più felice Imperadore, Frenò sì spesso il Tedesco furore, Fatto ribelle à la sua Santa Madre, Come hai potuto tu celeste padre, Veder de gli anni suoi nel più bel fiore, Fra donne, imbelli, empia mercè d’ Amore, Cader per man servili indegne, & adre? Marte il suo bellicoso horrido carme Cangi in sospiri homai, e con lui chiuda Sotterra i suoi Trofei, l’insegne, e l’arme. O` d’esse almen la bella amica ignuda, Venere sua come più degna n’arme, Poi ch’ella è più di lui sanguigna, e cruda. 24 6 (26 6)

Se da vostr’ occhi, da l’avorio, & ostro, Ond’ Amor manda fuor faci, e quadrella, Se da i tesor de l’anima, ch’ancella Nacque d’alto valor nel divin chiostro. Ciò ch’io scrissi, e cantai mi fù dimostro, Per lor d’ogn’atto vil tornai rubella, E se mercè di quelle, e mercè d’ella, Col tempo avaro, e con gl’ingegni giostro, A` voi deve ogni lingua dotta, e chiara, Rendervi572 lode, poi che’n voi s’accoglie Virtù, che’l fosco mio sgombra, e rischiara. A` voi dè Morte, che tutt’apre, e scioglie, Non esser come à gli altri empia et amara, E’l mondo ornarvi il crin di doppie foglie.

The Rime 573

No matter, lord, that I’m as well-known and famous as you say, what boots it if I know no joy within my soul? 24 5 (26 5)

Great terror of the enemy’s battalions574 who fought for that most happy emperor,575 so often checking the Germans’ furor when they rebelled against their mother church— holy Father, how could you permit yourself to see him in his flowering years cut down by servile hands unworthy of such work amidst faint-hearted women, the evil wares of Love? Now may Mars convert his horrid warlike cries to sighs and bury deep within the earth his trophies, his emblems, and his arms; at least let his nude and lovely friend, his Venus,576 arm herself with these—more fitting, this, since she’s the one so bloodthirsty and cruel. 24 6 (26 6)

If from your eyes, your ruddy cheeks and ivory teeth,577 whence Love sends forth his arrows and his torch, if from the treasures of your soul, born handmaiden of all that’s valued in God’s cloister, came all I wrote and sang, making me a rebel to everything that’s lowly, and if thanks to your good looks and to your soul, I joust with other wits and greedy time, then every learned and worthy tongue should turn its praise to you—in whom all virtues gather, brightening and clearing out in me what’s dark. Bitter and deceitful Death invades and undoes all—but you, you should escape her grasp, as the world decks your brow with double crowns.

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Gaspara Stampa 24 7 (26 7)

Gratie che fate il ciel fresco e sereno, Quando v’aggrada; e tu, che l’innamori Sacratissima Madre de gli Amori, Al cui bel raggio ogn’altra ombra vien meno. Spargete con cortese, e largo seno Nembo odorato di gratie, e di fiori, Sopra questi chiarissimi Pastori, Che me di gioia, et Adria han d’honor pieno. Sì che non turbi il lor felice stato Fortuna avversa, ò torbida procella. E sia sempre come hor dolce, e beato.578 Tal pregando Anassilla pastorella, D’ardente zelo, e’l cor caldo e’nfiammato Le gratie udirla, e la più chiara stella. 24 8 (27 1)

Voi, ch’ à le Muse, & al Signor di Delo, Caro più ch’altri, quasi unico mostro, La via d’andar’, à lor m’havete mostro, Pensier cangiati innanzi tempo, e pelo. E di Morte schernendo il crudo telo, Chiaro poggiate à quel celeste chiostro, Ov’io con voi d’alzarmi indarno giostro, Che pur m’atterra il peso grave, e’l gelo, Fate col vostro stil palese,579 e note Le vostre lode à tutto’l mondo, e’l saggio Senno, e valor,580 ch’ogn’altro par, ch’adombre; Perch’io per me MICHIEL, cosa non haggio D’esser cantata da le vostre note, Che tempo, e Morte tosto non la sgombre. 24 9 (27 2)

Deh, perche non poss’io qual debbo, e quale Voi m’imponeste al mio stil porre i vanni, Sì, che’l vostro bel nome da gli inganni Del tempo tolto al ciel spiegasse l’ale;

The Rime 24 7 (26 7)

“You who make the sky serene and fresh, you Graces, when it moves you, and you who make it full of love, holy mother of desire, at whose pretty light all shadows diminish,581 from your broad and generous bosom, scatter a cloud perfumed with grace and flowers upon these renowned shepherds, who have filled me with joy and all of Adria with honor,582 so that adverse fortune or fatal tempests leave undisturbed their happy state, and may they always be—as they are now—sweet and blessed.” So prayed Anassilla, shepherdess, with ardent zeal and a heart warm and enflamed; the Graces heard her, as did Venus.583 24 8 (27 1)

You to the Muses and Apollo more dear than all the others, a prodigy rare, converted to glory’s path toward which you beckon me, long before old age could change your hair,584 who scorn the cruel canvas of Death and climb to those celestial cloisters while I struggle to compete with you—in vain (this cold and heavy weight drags me back to earth): with that style that’s all your own, make famous and known your praise to all the world, that worth and wisdom others can but shadow. For myself, Michiel,585 I have nothing worth being sung by your notes586 that time and death won’t soon carry away. 24 9 (27 2)

Oh, why can’t I do what I should, what you’ve imposed on me, give wings to my words so that your name might be spared time’s tricks and spread its wings to the sky,

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Gaspara Stampa Coppia honorata, à cui null’altra eguale Si vede, ò vedrà mai dopo mill’anni, Per virtute, e valor salita à scanni,587 Ove raro, ò non mai si salse ò sale? Felice Serravalle, à cui per sorte Si diede l’esser retta, e governata Da sì gran Donna, e sì degno consorte. Felicissima me se fosse588 nata, O` con voi prima, ò con voi fin’ à morte Vivesse questa vita, che m’è data. 25 0 (27 3)

Perche, Fortuna avversa a’ miei disiri Quasi smarrita, e stanca navicella Da lunga combattuta, e ria procella, Come à lei piace mi rivolva, e giri. E meco più adhor’ adhor s’adiri; E mi percuota in questa parte, e’n quella, Nè lassi l’empia, e di pietà rubella, Che da’ suoi colpi il cor punto respiri. Io pur BALBI nel mal mi riconforto, Poi che ho le vostre ornate rime amiche; Onde mal grado suo vivrò mill’anni, Queste à la speme mia mostrano il porto, Queste contra de l’aure aspre, e nemiche Saran dolce ristoro de’ miei danni. 25 1 (26 8)

A` voi sian Febo, e le Sorelle amiche Schiera gentil, che col vivace ingegno Con l’arte, e con lo stil giungete à segno, Ove non giunser le memorie antiche. Voi le più gravi cure, e le nimiche Voglie acquetate, voi l’ira e lo sdegno, Voi sete dolce altrui triegua, e ritegno Ne le lunghe penose aspre fatiche. Io de la interna mia cura, e vivace Fin ch’è durato il vostro dolce dire Ho, la vostra mercé, trovato pace;

The Rime 589

honored couple: there is none equal to you nor will there be after a thousand years’ time; with your valor and virtue you’ve gained heights to which others have never, or rarely, climbed! Happy Serravalle, to whom fortune gave the governance and rule of such a great lady and her worthy consort! Happier me, had I only been born to live with you till now, or to live with you for the rest of this life that’s given me! 25 0 (27 3)

Because Fortune is hostile to my desires, and I, a bewildered, tired little boat,590 long beaten down by fateful storms— how it pleases her to keep me tempest-tossed and now and then unleash her wrath and strike me now on this side, now on that, nor does pity’s wicked rebel allow the heart an instant to recover from her blows— Balbi, I find solace amidst these foes;591 no matter their designs, since your elegant rhymes are friends to me, I’ll live a thousand years: they show my hopes the way to harbor, they counter harsh and enemy winds and bring sweet consolation to my woes. 25 1 (26 8)

May Phoebus592 and the Muses be your friends, gentle flock, and may you reach the mark with your lively wit, with a style and art that no one in ancient times attained.593 You quiet burdensome cares and hostile wishes, soothing anger and disdain; you offer others sweet respite and consolation from our long and wearisome labors. I—intent on my inner, pressing cares— have, thanks to you, found peace, and will continue to, as long as your sweet speech endures.

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Gaspara Stampa Così piaccia ad Amor di stabilire Questa mia breve gioia, e chi mi sface Tenga mai sempre queto il mio disire. 25 2 (27 4)

Anima, che secura sei passata Per questo procelloso mar, per questa Vita mortal senza provar tempesta Da gli honori, e dal volgo allontanata. Et hor con quella angelica brigata Ti vivi vita eterna in gioia, e’n festa; Lassata qui tutta confusa, e mesta La gioventù da te retta, e guidata. Pianga il tuo dipartir la lontananza Del buon Socrate suo celeste, e santo Tutta Italia, e tutta Adria in ogni stanza. Et io per me, se non che mi fà tanto Pianger’ Amor per lui, che non m’ avanza, Colmerei l’urna tua col mio gran pianto. 25 3 (27 5)

Qual’ à pieno potrà mai prosa, ò rima, La vostra cortesia lodar’, e l’arte Quella, ch’à me di lode dà tal parte Questa, ch’orna, & illustra il nostro Clima? Voi sete sol Signor’, se’l ver si stima, Cui altri non pareggia, in voi ha sparte Le gratie il ciel, ch’altrove non comparte In questa nostra etade, ò ne la prima. Voi sete il Sol, ch’ogn’altra luce avanza, Da voi si prende qualitate, e lume, E tutto quel di ben, che splende in nui. Felice me, poi c’ho trovato stanza, Ne la vostra memoria, per costume Usa à far viver dopo Morte altrui.

The Rime Thus may Love agree to stabilize this brief joy that I’ve known, and may he who consumes me so forever quiet my desires. 25 2 (27 4)

Soul that voyaged safely through the sea of this mortal life, so perilous, untempted by honor’s tempestuous ways, and distanced from the vulgar crowd,594 now you spend your life eternally in joy and song with that angelic company,595 leaving in sad confusion the youths once guided and directed on straight paths by you. May they mourn your parting throughout Italy and Adria in every place: how distant now their holy and celestial Socrates. As for myself, if Love did not constrain me so to weep for him so nothing’s left me, I’d fill your sepulcher myself with tears. 25 3 (27 5) 5 9 6

What work in prose or rhyme can ever fully praise your art and courtesy597—the one that’s had such part in praising me, the other that makes our days illustrious? If truth’s believed, my lord, you are unique, and others can’t compare—on you alone, heaven has shed its grace, as rare a thing today as in the world’s first age. You are the sun that lends the earth its light, from you we take excellence and splendor and all that’s found in us that’s best. Happy me, now that I’ve found a lodging598 in your memory, which, as is its wont, seeks to give life to others after death.

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Gaspara Stampa 25 4 (27 6)

Ben posso gir de l’altre donne in cima, Fin dove il Sole à noi nasce, e diparte, Poi ch’io son scritta da le vostre carte, EMO, e polita da la vostra lima. Il chiaro Achille hebbe, la spoglia opima, D’honor fra gli altri gran figli di Marte, Non perche fusse tale egli in gran parte, Ma perche Omero lui alza, e sublima. In me è sol’ Amor’, e disianza Di ber de l’ acque del Castalio fiume, Ove voi spesso, & io ancor non fui. Se questo honesto mio disir s’avanza, Se un dì m’infonde Apollo del suo nume, Andrò lodando queste rive, e vui. 25 5 (27 8)

Ninfe, che d’ Adria i più riposti guadi, Sacre habitate, e tu Dea de gli Amori, Che da quest’acque prima uscisti fuori, Care sì, chel599 tuo Cipro men t’aggradi. A` modi adorni, à meraviglia e radi A` la maggior beltà, c’hoggi s’honori, Al soggetto più degno di scrittori, Pur che sia stil, ch’à sì gran600 segno vadi. A la BAROZZA, à cui nulla è seconda,601 De i più ricchi tesor, che’l mar vostro haggia, Ornate il crin, e l’aurea treccia bionda. E lungo questa herbosa, e chiara spiaggia Canti l’una di voi, l’altra risponda La vostra donna bella, honesta, e saggia. 25 6 (27 9)

Felice Cavalier’, e fortunato, A` cui toccò fra tutti gli altri in sorte, Haver sì bella, e sì nobil consorte, E di sì chiaro ingegno, e sì pregiato,

The Rime 25 4 (27 6)

I’ve now outpaced all other women, attained the place where the sun is born and where it takes its leave, now that I’m written in your pages, Emo, and polished by your file; famed Achilles won the largest spoils of honor of all Mars’s great sons—not just for what he was, but because Homer raises him up and renders him sublime.602 In me dwells love alone, and thirst to drink the waters of Castalia’s font,603 a place you often dwell and where I’ve not yet been to. But if my honest wish is granted first, and one day Apollo bathes me in his grace, I’ll go praising these very shores, and you. 25 5 (27 8)

Sacred nymphs who dwell on Adria’s secluded shores, and goddess of all Loves who came forth first from these waters, so dear to you that your Cyprus pleases less,604 in rich and rare and marvelous ways that might honor the greatest beauty today, who affords our writers a subject most worthy while there’s a style that can reach such a mark: adorn the tresses, the blonde and flowing mane of la Barozza, to whom none compares, whose treasures are the richest your sea contains,605 and along this renowned and grassy shore, let one of you sing, another answer, of your lady, lovely, wise, and chaste. 25 6 (27 9)

The Fates have given you, happy knight and above all others fortunate, so lovely and so noble a consort, blessed with a mind so sharp and rare;606

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Gaspara Stampa Voi potete obliar standole à lato, I gravi assalti di Fortuna, e Morte, Perch’ella può con le due fide scorte Render tranquillo il ciel fosco, e turbato. Coppia gentil dopo mill’anni, e mille De’ vostri veri pregi, e vero honore, Splenderanno fra noi chiare faville. Et ancor fia chi dica pien d’ardore, Alme felici, poi che’l ciel sortille, A` sì bel nodo, et à sì santo ardore.607 25 7 (27 7)

Porgi man Febo à l’ erbe,608 e con quell’ arte, Che suol render’ altrui salute e vita, Il mio buon EMO e’l TIEPOL nostro aita Due, che tengon di noi la miglior parte; E l’empia febre, e le reliquie sparte, Onde han la faccia pallida e smarrita, Sia da lor, tua mercè, tosto bandita, Se disij presso noi famoso farte. Sì vedrai poi d’incensi, e d’odor vari, E di votive tavole, e di segni, Carco il tuo tempio, e’ tuoi sacrati altari. Et udrai mille, e mille chiari ingegni, Dir le tue lode, e i fatti egregi, e chiari, Onde fra gli altri Dei lodato regni. 25 8 (28 0)

Le virtù vostre, e quel cortese affetto, Che mostrate GUISCARDO havermi à parte, E quel vergar de l’honorate carte, In lode mia sì chiaro, e sì perfetto. Hanno tanto poter dentro al mio petto, Che con quanto si può mai studio, od arte, Io son volta ad amarte, & honorarte, Quasi di vero honor nido, e ricetto. Ma con quel sol’, e non altro disio, Che prescrive honestate, e che conviensi Al voler vostro, & à lo stato mio.

The Rime with her beside you, you can put to rest the harsh attacks of fortune and of death, for she with her two faithful guides can make serene a sky that’s dark and turbulent. Courteous pair, after two thousand years the bright sparks of your true worth and your honor still will shine among us. And there will still be someone who burns to say, “O happy souls, whom heaven bound in such a lovely knot and in such holy burning!”609 25 7 (27 7)

Apollo, extend your hand to your herbs,610 and with that art that grants us health and life, aid my dear Emo and Tiepolo,611 two who have the greatest claims upon my heart, and may that wretched fever and its ruins that leave their faces pallid and confused be banished by your mercy if you wish to reap some fame among us here. Thus your temple and your sacred altars will be laden with incense and perfumes, heaped with votive offerings and banners, and you’ll hear thousands upon thousands of our brightest wits speak forth your deeds and praise you so you’ll emerge preeminent of the gods. 25 8 (28 0)

Your virtues and that courteous affection that you’ve revealed for me, Guiscardo,612 your lining of such honored pages to praise me in a manner so renowned and perfect, maintain such power over my breast that I’m moved to honor you and love you with as much study and art as I can: you—true honor’s receptacle and nest. But with this desire alone, the one that chastity prescribes and that best suits your wish and my condition;

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Gaspara Stampa Perche l’amar con questi frali sensi, E` amor breve; e spesse volte è rio, Che n’ancide la strada, ond’ al ciel viensi. 25 9 (28 1)

Quel, che con tanta, e sì larga misura, Felice ingegno, il nostro alto fattore Vi die GUISCARDO, e quel raro valore, Che de’ più chiari il vivo raggio oscura, Quel vago stil, quella cortese cura, Che di lodarmi sì v’infiamma il core, Non per mio merto à tanta opra minore, Ma per mia rara, e mia sola ventura. E sopra tutto quello amor, che tanto Mostrate havermi, che l’amato move, E fa uno il voler, quando è diviso, Son cagion, che v’honori, & ami quanto, Può Donna chiaro ingegno, stile, e viso, Però quanto honestà detti, & approve. 26 0 (25 8)

Signor, dapoi che l’ acqua del mio pianto Che sì larga, è613 sì spessa versar soglio, Non può rompere il saldo, e duro scoglio, Del cor del fratel vostro tanto, ò quanto. Vedete voi, cui sò ch’egli ama tanto, Se scrivendogli humile un mezo foglio, Per vincer l’ostinato, e fiero orgoglio Di quel petto poteste haver’ il vanto. Illustre VINCIGUERRA, io non disio Da lui, se non che mi dica in due versi, Pena, spera, & aspetta il tornar mio.614 Se ciò m’aviene, i miei sensi dispersi, Come pianta piantata appresso il rio, Voi vedrete in un punto rihaversi.

The Rime because love with these frail senses is a love short-lived and often harmful, for it blocks the path that leads us up to heaven. 25 9 (28 1)

That fertile wit our noble maker gave you, Guiscardo, in such great measure, and that rare valor which obscures the living lights of those who are our brightest, that fetching style, this kind solicitousness that fires up your heart to praise me— not for anything I’ve done, I’m scarcely worthy of such work, but only through my rare good fortune— and above all, the love you claim to have for me, a love that moves the beloved and makes one will where once there was division: that’s why I honor you, and love you as much as women love a man with talent, style, and looks, but no more than chastity dictates and approves. 26 0 (25 8)

Lord, since the waters of my weeping, which pour forth so copiously and without relief, cannot break down the hard, implacable reef of your brother’s heart, even a bit,615 you could try to gain control over that breast by conquering his fierce, obstinate pride— see if half a page humbly inscribed from one that he adores might do it. Illustrious Vinciguerra, I seek nothing he can’t say to me in a single verse: “Suffer, hope, and wait for my return”— and if that happens, in an instant you’ll see me come alive; my senses, once dispersed, revived like a plant planted by a stream.

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Gaspara Stampa 26 1 (28 4)

Pastor, che d’ Adria il fortunato seno Di tanti honori, e tanti pregi ornate, E de le rive sue chiare, e pregiate Havete homai cantando il mondo pieno; Pastor, ch’alto saper chiudete in seno Ne la più verde, e più fiorita etate, E da radici uscendo alte, e lodate Fate col canto il ciel fosco e sereno, Deh potess’io del vostro almo splendore Venir’ in parte, e di quei chiari effetti, Che non temerei morte, ò tempo oscuro.616 Così, lodando il suo saggio Pastore; Anassilla dicea, di dolci aspetti Ripieno il cielo, à l’aer chiaro, e puro. 26 2 (28 5)

Mentre al cielo il Pastor617 d’alma beltate Coridon’ alza l’una, e l’altra Stampa, E mentre l’una, e l’altra arde, et avampa Di far lui chiaro à questa nostra etate, In note di vivace Amor formate D’ Amor, che solo in gentil cor s’ accampa, Dice Anassilla al Sol volta, che scampa Le forze havendo à più poter legate. Deh, perche stil, vaghezza, & armonia, D’ alzar lui non ho io rime e concento A` segno, ove Pastor mai non è stato? Perche à voglia sì santa, e così pia Non risponde il poter, che in un momento Faria lo stato mio chiaro e beato?618 26 3 (26 9)

Amica dolce, & honorata schiera, Schiera di cortesia, e d’honestade, Soggiorno di valore, e di beltade, Di diporti, e di gratie madre vera.

The Rime 26 1 (28 4)

Shepherd who adorns the fortunate breast of Adria with many glories and honors, who has filled the world with song about her shores, now so well-known and praised, how much wisdom, shepherd, at your tender age is already enclosed within your breast; ushering forth from such worthy roots, you make the sky serene or dark with song— ah, could I only share in just a part of your splendors divine and their effects, then I would not fear shadowy time or death. So said Anassilla, praising her wise shepherd to the air, clear and pure, and the sky was full of lovely sights.619 26 2 (28 5)

While Coridon, a shepherd of divine beauty, raises one and the other Stampa to the sky,620 and while one and the other sister rage and burn to make him illustrious in this our age, Anassilla, in notes nourished by lively love, a love that takes root only in gentle hearts, turns to the sun and speaks in words more forceful for their having been constrained: “Why then don’t I have the style, the art, the harmony, the balance, and the rhyme to raise him to where no shepherd’s been before? Why can’t the powers above fulfill this pure and holy wish, and in an instant make my own state blessed and acclaimed?” 26 3 (26 9)

Sweet friends and honored company,621 accompanied by courtesy and truth and home to virtue and to loveliness, mother of sweet solace and every grace,

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Gaspara Stampa Io prego Amor, e’l ciel, ch’unita intera, Ti conservi in felice, e lunga etade, E questi giochi, e questa libertade, Veggan tardi, ò non mai l’ultima sera. Cosa non possa mai perversa, e ria Turbar per tempo alcun’, ò disunire Così dolce, e gradita compagnia. A` me si dia per gratia di gioire, Con lei molt’ anni, e con la fiamma mia, Che sovra il ciel mi fa superba gire. 26 4 (27 0)

Rivolgete la lingua, e le parole A` dir di cosa più degna, e più chiara, Che non son’io, schiera honorata, e cara, Onde tanto Elicona s’orna, e cole. Come la Luna il lume suo dal Sole Prende, onde poi la notte apre, e rischiara; Io, cui natura è stata in tutto avara, Splendo quanto il mio Sol permette, & vuole. A` lui dunque si dè tutta la lode, Perche s’ei non mi da del suo vigore; Non è chi mova la mia lingua, ò snode.622 La mia vita in lui vive, & in me more, Di lui sol parla, pensa, scrive, & ode, O` pur mi serbi in questo stato Amore. 26 5 (28 7)

Chiunque à fama gloriosa intende Per via di chiaro stil, d’ alto intelletto Talhor basso, e vilissimo soggetto, Per essaltarlo poetando prende; Omero, che per tutto fama stende, Alzò cantando un’ animal negletto; E Virgilio la lingua saggio, e’l petto, De la zanzala623 al ciel scrivendo ascende. Tal di noi basso tema, fate voi,624 Che’l nostro nome indegno, c’huom riguardi, Alzate sì, che non fia mai, che moia.

The Rime may love and heaven preserve you to a ripe old age, united and as one; may night come late, or never fall at all on this, your leisure and your liberty. And may no evil or wickedness disturb at any time or divide such welcome sweet companionship. As for myself—may I be given grace to enjoy many years with them and with the flame that makes me soar up to heaven in pride. 26 4 (27 0)

You should direct your tongue and words to speak of things more worthy and renowned than I, dear honored friends—you make Helicon625 itself honored and dignified. Just as the moon borrows its brightness from the sun, and opens up the night to light, I from whom nature has withheld so much shine only as much as my sun permits.626 Thus you should turn all your praise to him, because if he did not give me his vigor, there’s none who would unleash and move my tongue. My life lives in him and dies in me, of him alone it speaks and thinks, and writes and sings. O Love, preserve me in this condition! 26 5 (28 7)

Who aims at gaining fame that’s glorious through noble style or lofty intellect will sometimes take a base and lowly subject and turn it into poetry. Homer, whose fame extends throughout the world, raised up a neglected animal in song, and Virgil, wise of tongue and heart, assured the mosquito a place in heaven with his pen.627 Such have you done with us, a lowly theme, elevating a name unworthy of men’s regard so it will never die.

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Gaspara Stampa A` voi PRIULI saggio ceda lui, Che Mantov’ orna, e i bei campi Lombardi, E chi cantò Micena, insieme e Troia. 26 6 (28 8)

Cercando novi versi, e nove rime Per poter far le lodi vostre conte, Apollo sceso giù dal sacro monte, L’orecchie mi tirò nè l’hore prime.628 Altro ingegno, altro stile, & altre lime, Mi disse, e d’eloquentia629 un maggior fonte Ti converrebbe à poter stare à fronte, Con soggetto sì degno, e sì sublime. Un mar, che non ha fine, e non ha fondo, Cerchi solcar, cercando di lodare, Il Riverendo à null’altro secondo. A` tutt’ altri le stelle furo avare, Quando mandar sì chiaro spirto al mondo, A` cui han dato ciò che si può dare. 26 7 (28 9)

SORANZO, de l’immenso valor vostro, E de l’alte virtù630 tante, e sì nove, Raggio sì vivo, e sì possente move, E di sì chiaro lume il secol nostro, Che volend’ io vergar carta, & inchiostro, Sì come son’ hor qui, sien note altrove, La grandezza de l’opra mi rimove, E ritarda lo stil quel, che m’è mostro. Io vinco ben tutt’altre di disio, In amarvi, e honorarvi, come deggio, Ma l’opra è tal, che vince il poter mio. Onde maggior virtute à chi può chieggio, Da pagar tanto, e sì devuto fio, O` vo tacer di voi per non far peggio.

The Rime 631

To you, wise Priuli, let them yield: the one who honors Mantua and Lombard fields, the other who sang Mycenae along with Troy. 26 6 (28 8)

As I was searching for new rhymes and ways with which to praise your well-known virtues,632 Apollo descended from his sacred mount to tweak my ear in the early dawn.633 “Another’s wit or file, a different style,” he said, “or a greater fount of eloquence, is what you would need to do justice to a theme so exalted and sublime. You seek to cross an ocean that has no end and can’t be sounded, as you try to praise a man second to none—the Reverend.634 The stars were miserly to all others, when they sent into the world this spirit of renown, to whom they gave all that it’s possible to give.” 26 7 (28 9)

Soranzo,635 so powerful and vibrant the force of your valor—immense— and extraordinary virtue that it moves our age with a clear, bright light, and though I want to line with ink my page so you’re as well-known elsewhere as you are here, the grandeur of the work prevents me, and what is shown me slows my style; I may defeat all other women in my wish to honor you and love you as I should, but the task is such that it defeats my force. Hence I call on greater talent to give the tribute that’s deserved—while I must stop myself before I can do worse.

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Gaspara Stampa 26 8 (29 0) 6 3 6

Questo felice, e glorioso Tempio De la più chiara Dea, c’hoggi s’honori, Poi ch’io non ho con degni637 incensi, e fiori, Colpa del duro mio destino & empio,638 Dietro à voi, che di Morte fate scempio Fra i più famosi, e più saggi scrittori, Dotti figli d’ Esperia, almi Pastori Di queste basse rime adorno, & empio. Che se m’havesse il cielo alzata, dove Alzato ha lei, alzato ha’l vostro stile, O` me lodata,639 ò paghi e disir640 miei. Voi dunque in rime disusate, e nove Fate udir’il suo nome à Battro, e Tile, E tutto quel, ch’io volsi,641 e non potei. 26 9 (29 1)

Signor, s’ à quei lodati, e chiari segni Il vostro ingegno, i vostri studi, e l’arte:642 V’hanno alzato, e’l vergar di tante carte, A` quai s’alzaro i più chiari, e più degni, Come poss’io come i maggiori ingegni, Entrando in tanto mar con poche sarte, Quanto si vuol, quanto si dè lodarte, Sì che di nostro dir tu non ti sdegni? Certo il disire, e debito mi sprona, E via più la vostr’ alta cortesia, Che tal volta di me pensa, e ragiona. Ma l’opra è tal, tal’ è la pena643 mia, Tal di voi parla, e sente ogni persona, Che credend’ io d’alzar v’abbasseria. 27 0 (29 2)

Voi, che di vari campi, e prati vari, Con la penna metendo644 biade, e fiori Mostrate ogn’hor fra i più saggi scrittori, Ond’ huomo si diletti, & onde impari,

The Rime 26 8 (29 0)

Since I’ve no flowers or fitting incense (fault of my harsh and wicked destiny), I follow you—among the most famous and wisest of writers who wreak havoc on death,645 learned children of Hesperia,646 shepherds divine— to adorn and fill with these lowly rhymes this glorious happy temple of the most illustrious goddess who’s honored today.647 For if heaven had seen fit to raise me up to where it’s raised her, to where it’s raised your style, oh, how I’d be praised, my wishes satisfied! Thus you’ll make her name resound from Bactria to Thule in brave new rhymes, saying all I wished to say, but was not able. 26 9 (29 1)

Lord,648 if your native talents, your studies, and your art have with all you’ve written raised you to those famous and praiseworthy heights which only the best and most deserving gain, how then can I become like these greater wits, if I enter on the sea so ill equipped, and praise you as I’d like and you deserve, so that my words won’t meet with your disdain? Desire and indebtedness spur me on, and even more so, your great kindness that makes you talk and think of me at times. But the work’s one thing, my efforts are another; so much are you the talk of all that, thinking to promote you, I’d abase you. 27 0 (29 2)

Thanks to you who use your pen to harvest the words of our wisest writers from an abundance of meadows and fields to show how man learns and how he delights,

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Gaspara Stampa O` de gli ingegni al mondo eletti, e rari Di mille edere degno, e mille allori; Il cui splendor non fia, che discolori, L’invido oblio, ò gli anni empi & avari. Quante gratie vi rendo ORTENSIO, poi Che senza merto mio, per vostri scritti, N’andrò famosa da gl’Indi, à gli Eoi. Con tant’ altre lodate, e chiari invitti, Che per la vostra penna, e pregi suoi Di Morte, ò tempo non temon despitti. 27 1 (29 3)

S’una sola eccellentia suol far chiaro Chi la possede; & voi n’havete mille, Gradito Cavalier quai voci, ò squille, Potran mai gire a’ vostri merti à paro? Voi ne l’età più verde con quel raro, Giudicio restingueste le faville, D’Inghilterra, e di Francia, ove sopille Non puote alcun di quanti unqua provaro. Voi di grandezza, voi di cortesia, Voi di presentia, voi di nobiltate, V’alzate à segno, ov’altri non fù pria. Cantin di voi le penne più lodate, Che io, quanto potrà la penna mia, Vi farò chiaro à la futura etate. 27 2 (29 4)

Mille fiate à voi volgo la mente, Per lodarvi FORTUNIO quanto deggio, Quanto lodarvi, e riverirvi io veggio Da la più dotta, e la più chiara gente; Ma da l’opra lo stil vinto si sente, Con cui sì male i vostri honor pareggio; Onde muta rimango, et al ciel chieggio, O` maggior vena, ò desir meno ardente. Io dirò ben, che qualunqu’ io mi sia, Per via di stile, io son vostra mercede; Che mi mostraste sì spesso la via.

The Rime oh, the splendor of all the rare wits in the world most worthy of a thousand locks of laurel and ivy won’t be dimmed by envious oblivion or greedy time. How many thanks I give to you, Ortensio;649 your writings—through no merit of my own— will make me renowned from east to west, along with other celebrated women and unvanquished men who because of your pen fear not the slights of either time or death. 27 1 (29 3)

If one excellent quality alone can gain fame for its possessor, and you’ve a thousand, worthy knight,650 what words or sounds could ever claim to equal all your merits? You in your most tender age exercised your rare judgment to put out the flames consuming France and England, when the same thing tried by others could not assuage them. Your grandeur and your courtesy, your presence, your nobility raise you to the stars, where none has been before. Let those more celebrated sing of you now while I and my pen will do what we can to make you famous in some future age. 27 2 (29 4)

A thousand times I’ve turned my thoughts to you, Fortunio,651 to praise you as I should, just as much as those illustrious and learned men among us praise you and revere you too, but the work vanquishes my feeble style, unfit to equaling all your honors: hence I’m mute, reduced to asking heaven for greater skill or less desire. I will say this: that whatever’s mine by way of style I owe to you, since you so often showed the way to me;

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Gaspara Stampa Perche’l far poi del valor vostro fede, E` opra d’altra penna, che la mia, E’l mondo per se stesso se lo vede. 27 3 (29 5)

Signor, che per sì rara cortesia Con rime degne di futura etate Sì dolcemente cantate, e lodate L’alto mio Colle, e l’alta fiamma mia. Io priego Amor, che se spietata e ria Vi fu giamai la Donna, che hora amate, Ferendo lei di quadrella indorate La renda a’ desir vostri molle, e pia. E prego voi, che’l vostro chiaro stile Lasciato me suggetto senza frutto, Si volga al Signor mio chiaro, e gentile. Io per me son quasi un terreno asciutto, Sono una pianta abbandonata e vile, Coltada652 lui, e suo è’l pregio in tutto. 27 4 (28 2)

Quel gentil seme di virtute ardente, Che germogliar nel vostro ingegno intende Fin da’ primi anni, & hor tal frutto rende, Che n’è piena653 Adria homai tutto e lo sente; Con quel disio che sì fervidamente Spiegate in carte, che di me vi prende; Sì viva fiamma nel mio cor’ accende, Ch’à la vostra è minor’ ò poco,654 ò niente. E` ben ver, che’l disio, con ch’ amo voi E` tutto d’honestà pieno, e d’ Amore, Perch’ altramente non convien tra noi. Appagate di questo il vostro core Spirto gentil’, e fate noto poi Ne’ vostri versi questo santo ardore.

The Rime but to make good on all you’ve given is work for other pens than mine, as the world for itself can surely see. 27 3 (29 5)

Lord, who with such rare courtesy and in rhymes worthy of some future age do sweetly sing and sweetly praise my great high hill, my living fire,655 I pray to Love: if the woman you adore is ever pitiless or unkind, may he wound her with his golden bow, rendering her pliant to your desires. And I beg you to turn your illustrious style entirely to my illustrious lord, and leave me, a subject without fruit, aside; I’m little more than arid land, a lowly plant he cultivated once656—and then abandoned; everything of worth is his. 27 4 (28 2)

That gentle seed of ardent virtue which began to sprout already in your youth as great intelligence, and now bears fruit, so all of Adria is witness to it— with the desire for me that’s seized you so and that you fervently describe in poems, so lively is the flame you’ve lit in my heart that compared to yours it lacks little—or nothing. And yet it’s true: this desire I bear for you is full of love and honest chastity; or else there could be nothing between us. So satisfy your heart with this, you gentle spirit, and then make known in all your verses my holy ardor.657

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Gaspara Stampa 27 5 (30 4)

Di queste tenebrose, e fiere voglie Ch’io drizzai ad amar cosa mortale, Seguendo il van disio fallace e frale, Che sì rio frutto di sue opre coglie. S’avien, che la tua gratia non mi spoglie, Poi chè per me la mia forza non vale, Temo, che l’aversario empio infernale Non riporti di me lamate658 spoglie. Dolce Signor, che sei venuto in terra, Et hai presa, per me terrena vesta, Per combatter’, e vincer questa guerra. Dammi lo scudo di tua gratia, e desta In me virtù, sì ch’io getti per terra Ogni affetto terren, che mi molesta. 27 6 (30 5)

Quelle piaghe profonde; e l’acqua, e’l sangue, Che nel tuo corpo glorioso io veggio, Signor, che sceso dal celeste seggio, Per vita al mondo dar restasti essangue; Che nel mio cor, che del fallir suo langue Vogli imprimer’ homai per gratia chieggio; Sì ch’al fin del viaggio, che pur deggio659 Non trionfi di me l’inimico angue. Scancella660 queste piaghe d’amor vano, Che m’hanno quasi già condotta à morte, Pur rimirando un bel sembiante humano. Aprimi homai del regno tuo le porte, E per salir à lui dammi la mano; Perche à ciò far non giovano altre scorte. 27 7 (30 6)

Signor, che doni il Paradiso, e tolli, Doni, e tolli à la molta, e poca fede, Per opre nò; ch’à sì larga mercede, Sono i nostri operar deboli e folli.661

The Rime 27 5 (30 4)

These wild and shadowy longings that I directed toward loving a mortal thing, pursuing vain desire, deceptive and frail, that gathers from its works such evil fruit— if it happens that your grace662 does not despoil me of all this (for my own strength is not enough), I fear the impish adversary from hell will carry off with him my beloved spoils. Sweet Lord, for me you came down to earth and took on an earthly garment so you could fight and win this war. Give me the shield of your grace, awaken in me virtue, so I may throw to earth every mortal affection that molests me. 27 6 (30 5)

Those deep wounds, the water and blood I see gushing from your glorious body,663 Lord, who descended from your celestial seat and gave your blood so the world might live664— onto my heart that languishes in sin, I ask that you imprint your wounds through grace, so at the end of the journey that’s mine to make the enemy’s serpent cannot triumph. Cancel out these wounds of empty love that almost led me to my death while I gazed upon a pretty face. Open now for me the gates of your kingdom, and give me a hand to help me ascend to him, for I can get there with no other guide. 27 7 (30 6)

Lord, who give paradise to those with great faith, and from those with small take it away, for it’s not what we do—compared to your grace, our works are merely mad, and weak—

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Gaspara Stampa Da’ tuoi alti, celesti, e sacri colli, Ov’è’l soggiorno tuo proprio, e la sede China gli occhi al mio cor, che mercè chiede Del suo fallir co’ miei humidi, e molli. E perche suol la tua gratia sovente A` buon dare,665 ove il fallo è via maggiore, Per mostrar la tua gloria maggiormente, Nel petto mio, ricetto d’ogni errore, Entra col foco tuo vivo, & ardente, E spento ogn’altro, accendivi il tu’ amore. 27 8 (31 1)

Mesta, e pentita de’ miei gravi errori, E del mio vaneggiar tanto, e sì lieve, E d’haver speso questo tempo breve, De la vita fugace in vani amori, A` te Signor, ch’intenerisci i cori, E rendi calda la gelata neve; E fai soave ogn’aspro peso, e greve, A` chiunque accendi di tuoi666 santi ardori. Ricorro; e prego, che mi porghi mano A` trarmi fuor del pelago, onde uscire, S’io tentassi da me, sarebbe vano. Tu volesti per noi Signor morire, Tu ricomprasti tutto il seme humano, Dolce Signor non mi lasciar perire. 27 9 (30 7)

Volgi à me peccatrice empia la vista,667 Mi grida il mio Signor, che’n Croce pende, E dal mio cieco senso non s’intende La voce sua di vera pietà mista. Sì mi trasforma Amor’ empio, e contrista, E d’altro foco il cor’ arde, & accende; Sì l’alma al proprio, et vero ben contende, Che non si perde mai poi che s’acquista. La ragion saria ben facile, e pronta A` seguire il suo meglio; ma la svia Questa fral carne, che con lei s’affronta.

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from your celestial, high, and holy hills your very place of sojourn and your seat, turn your eyes to my heart which asks for mercy for its failings as my own eyes weep. And because your grace abounds more fully there where sin has been the greatest, so you may show forth your glory all the more, come within my breast, port of every failing, with your own flame alive and burning. All others loves spent, kindle therein yours. 27 8 (31 1) 6 6 9

Crestfallen and repentant for my serious lapses, for all my raving—so much of it thoughtless— for having spent the little time our fugitive lives give us in vain loves: to you, Lord—who make our hearts tender as you warm them and thaw their frozen snow,670 who sweeten our burdens no matter how heavy, sparking in us your holy ardor— to you I turn: will you extend your hand and pull me forth from the sea—for to flee myself, should I attempt it, would be in vain.671 My Lord, you wanted to die for us, you ransomed for us the human race. Sweet Lord, do not let me perish! 27 9 (30 7)

“Wicked woman, turn your face to me,” My Lord cries out, suspended from the cross, and my blind senses fail to grasp his angry voice that’s mingled with true pity. So evil love’s transformed and saddened me; so has my heart been lit and burned by other flames, so my soul contends with the good and true that never can be lost once they are gained. Reason would be quick and prompt to follow what it knows best, but this frail flesh derails her from the course to which she’s opposed.

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Gaspara Stampa Dunque apparir non può la luce mia, Se’l Sol de la tua gratia non sormonta A` squarciar questa nebbia fosca, e ria. 28 0 (30 8)

Purga Signor’ homai l’interno affetto, De la mia coscientia, sì ch’io miri Solo in te, te solo ami, te sospiri, Mio glorioso, eterno, e vero672 obietto. Sgombra con la tua gratia dal mio petto Tutt’altre voglie, e tutt’ altri disiri; E le cure d’ Amor tante, e i sospiri, Che m’accompagnan dietro al van diletto. La bellezza, ch’io amo, è de le rare, Che mai facesti, Ma poi ch’è terrena, A` quella del tuo regno non è pare. Tu per dritto sentier, la sù mi mena, Ove per tempo non si può cangiare L’eterna vita in torbida, e serena. 28 1 (30 9)

Volgi padre del cielo à miglior calle I passi miei, onde ho già cominciato Dietrò al folle disio, c’havea voltato A` te mio primo,673 e vero ben le spalle; E con la gratia tua che mai non falle A` porgermi il tuo lume hor sei pregato; Trami, onde uscir per me sol m’è vietato,674 Da questa di miserie oscura valle, E donami destrezza e virtù tale, Che posti i miei disir tutti ad un segno Saglia, ove amando il nome tuo, si sale. A` fruire i tesori del tuo regno, Si, ch’inutil per me non resti, e frale La pretiosa tua morte, e’l tuo legno.

The Rime My light cannot shine through unless your grace sends its Sun to rise above the fog and rend its dark and wicked shadows. 28 0 (30 8)

Lord, purge the hidden affections of my conscience, so that I gaze on you alone, love only you, and sigh— for you, my glorious, eternal, and true care. With your grace, empty out my breast of other wishes, all desires, the many superficial things of love, the sighs I spend pursuing vain delights. The beauty that I love is of the rarest that you’ve made, but it partakes of earth: and so it’s hardly equal to the beauties of your realm. On a straight path, lead me there above where time’s threats cannot exchange a life eternal and serene for a tormented one. 28 1 (30 9)

Heavenly Father, onto a better path turn my steps,675 for I’ve already started out prey to this desire—mad—that made me turn my back to you, my first and truest good; and with your grace that never fails us, extend to me your light: I pray, draw me from this valley dark with misery, for it’s forbidden me to leave alone.676 Grant me virtue and readiness such that once I’ve fixed my desires on a single mark, I too may ascend with all who love you to enjoy the treasures of your kingdom, so that your precious death and the cross do not remain for me frail and useless.

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Dunque io potrò fattura empia, & ingrata Amar bellezza humana e fral qual vetro, E l’eterna e celeste lasciar dietro De la somma bontà, che m’ha creata; E poi m’ha da la morte liberata, E da l’inferno tenebroso, e tetro, Se del fallir mi pento qual fe Pietro, Poi che tre volte già l’hebbe negata? Dunque io potrò veder di piaghe pieno Il mio fattor, per me sospeso in croce, E d’ Amor’ e di zel non venir meno? Dunque non drizzerò pensieri, e voce Ogn’altro affetto human spento, e terreno Solo a’ suoi stratij à la sua pena atroce? 28 3 (20 4)

Virtuti eccelse, e doti illustri, e chiare, Ch’ alzate al cielo il mio real Signore Sol co’ passi di gloria, e d’alto honore Già giunto in parte, ove non ha più pare. Voi, voi sol voglio volgermi ad amare Temprando il mio focoso e cieco Amore, Guidato sol da tenebre & errore,677 Ove ambe due potrà forse annoiare. Hor racquistato alquanto del mio lume Potrò specchiarmi in quel bel raggio ardente, Che da prima m’elessi per mio Nume; E di cibo miglior pascer la mente, Dove io pasceva i sensi per costume Di cosa, che si fugge via repente. 28 4 (20 5)

Quel desir, che fù già caldo, et ardente A` bellezza seguir fugace, e frale, L’alta mercè di Dio prese ha già l’ale, Et è rivolto à più fido Oriente,

The Rime 28 2 (31 0)

So will I, wicked creature and ungrateful, really be able to love a human’s beauty— fragile as glass—and leave behind that celestial and eternal Good that created me, then liberated me from death and saved me from a dark and shadowy hell— if I repent my failures, as did Peter after he denied his Lord three times?678 So will I be able to see my Maker laced with wounds, suspended from the cross for me, and not faint from love and holy zeal? So, with every earthly human passion spent, will I not direct my words and thoughts to his torments alone, his terrible suffering? 28 3 (20 4)

Lofty virtues, bright and illustrious gifts that raise my lord to heaven679— in fact, he’s halfway there, led by his honors and his glory to where he’ll be beyond compare— to you alone, just to you I yearn to turn a love that tempers the blind and blazing passion, guided once by error and by shadows to find—perhaps—little more than trouble. Now with some of my light regained I can gaze at myself in that burning ray that from the first I chose to be my god and feed my mind on better food than what my senses dined on out of habit— tastes to repent of, and quickly fled.680 28 4 (20 5)

That fierce desire with which I burned once to follow beauty—a frail and fleeting thing— has now, may God be thanked, taken wing and found its way to a more trustworthy guide,

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Gaspara Stampa Seguendo del mio Conte solamente Quella interna bellezza, e senza eguale, Che con fortuna non scende, e non sale, E del tempo, e d’altrui cura niente. Da qui indietro il suo sommo valore, La cortesia, e’l saggio alto intelletto D’alte opre vago, e di perpetuo honore. Saran più degna fiamma del mio petto, E più degno ricetto del mio core, E de le rime mie più degno oggetto. 28 5 (20 6)

Canta tu Musa mia non più quel volto, Non più quegli occhi, e quell’alme bellezze, Che’l senso mal’ accorto par che prezze, In quest’ombre terrene impresso, e involto; Ma l’alto senno in saggio petto accolto, Mille tesori, e mille altre vaghezze, Del Conte mio, e tante sue grandezze, Ond’ oggi il pregio à tutti gli altri ha tolto. Hor sarà, il tuo Castalia,681 e’l tuo Parnaso, Non fumo, et ombra, ma leggiadra schiera Di virtù vere, chiuse in nobil vaso. Quest’ è via da salir’ à gloria vera, Questo può farti da l’Orto, à l’Occaso, E di verace honor chiara, et altera. 28 6 (24 1)

Donne voi, che fin qui libere, e sciolte De gli amorosi lacci vi trovate, Onde son’ io, e son tant’ altre avolte. Se di saper, che cosa sia bramate Quest’ Amor, che Signor’ ha fatto, e Dio Non pur la nostra, ma l’antica etate. E` un’ affetto ardente, un van disio D’ombre fallaci, un volontario inganno, Un por se stesso, e’l suo bene in oblio.

The Rime pursuing only that which in my count is found within, beyond compare, unmoved by fortune’s ups and downs, heedless of the claims of others, and of time. Henceforth, thanks to his great worth, gentility, his learned intellect eager to perform great works of lasting fame, a worthier flame will fire up my breast; a worthier way station for my heart will give my rhymes more worthy purpose. 28 5 (20 6)

Sing, my Muse,682 no more that face, no more those eyes, those godly beauties that seemed priceless to my ignorant senses, when confounded and absorbed by earthly shadows, but sing the wisdom of that wise breast, its thousand treasures and its thousand charms and all the loftiness of my count who from all others has taken the prize. Now your Castalian spring, your new Parnassus683 are not smoke and shade, but this delightful band of virtues closed within a noble vessel. This is the way to gain real glory, this can make you proud, and famous, and bring you true honor from east to west!684 28 6 (24 1) 6 8 5

Ladies, you who until now yourselves find free and untrammeled by the amorous noose in which I and so many women are entwined, if you’re eager to know something of Love, who made himself lord and god not only of our age but of the ancients: he’s a burning affliction, a vain desire for fictitious shadows, a willful deceit for whom you forget yourself and your good;

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Gaspara Stampa Un cercar suo mal grado con affanno, Quel, che ò mai686 non si trova, o se pur viene, Havuto arreca penitentia, e danno. Un nutrir la sua vita sol di spene; Un’haver sempre mai pensieri, e voglie Di fredda gelosia, di dubbij piene. Un laccio, che s’allaccia, e non si scioglie Quando altrui piace, un gir spargendo seme, Di cui buon frutto mai non si ricoglie. Una cura mordace che’l cor preme, Un la sua libertate, e la sua gioia, E la sua pace andar perdendo insieme. Un morir nè sentir, perche si moia; Un’ arder dentro d’un vivace ardore; Un’ esser mesta, e non sentir la noia. Un mostrar quel, c’huom chiude dentr’ e fore, Un’ esser sempre pallido, e tremante; Un’ errar sempre, e non veder l’errore. Un’ avilirsi al viso amato innante; Un’ esser fuor di lui franca, & ardita; Un non saper tener ferme le piante. Un’ haver spesso in odio la sua vita, Et amar più l’altrui, un’ esser spesso Hor mesta, e fosca, hor lieta, e colorita. Un’ ogni studio in non cale haver messo, Un fugir’ il comertio de le genti, Un’ esser da se lunge, & altrui presso. Un far seco ragioni, & argomenti, E disegni, & imagini, che poi Tutti qual polve via portano i venti. Un non dormire à pieno i sonni suoi, Un destarsi sdegnosa, & un sognarsi Sempre cosa contraria à quel che vuoi. Un’ haver doglia, e non voler lagnarsi Di chi n’offende; anzi rivolger l’ira Contra se stesso, e sol seco sdegnarsi. Un veder sol’ un viso, ove si mira, Un’ in esso affissarsi, benche lunge, Un gioir l’alma quando si sospira, E finalmente un mal, che unge, e punge.

The Rime a relentless search for something that either always eludes you or with it brings only penitence and destruction. A nurturing of your life on hope alone, besieged constantly by desire, and thoughts of cold jealousy wracked by doubts, a noose that binds and is not undone, as long as others are pleased; a sowing that spreads seed but never harvests from it any good fruit; a biting care that presses on the heart, the loss of liberty and pleasure and peace—they vanish altogether; a dying without knowing why you die, an inner burning by a living flame, a troubled life without feeling pain, a showing without what’s usually closed within, a body that is always trembling and pale, constantly wandering without seeing your error,687 a loss of heart before that beloved face, while away from him you are ardent and frank, not knowing how to silence your complaints, often hating your own life, while loving more that of the other; being often melancholy and troubled, now gay and rosy, abandoning everything once of interest, fleeing the company of others, far from oneself and near to one alone, arguing and reasoning within yourself, plans and intrigues that then fall prey to winds that carry them away like dust; sleeping fitfully, like one with a fever yet disdaining to wake, while dreaming things always contrary to your designs; to suffer, and not to complain of who it is that hurts you—better to turn against yourself your wrath and disdain: seeing only one face wherever you gaze, fixed on him though he’s far from you. It’s a soul that fills with joy when it sighs, it’s a sickness that both soothes and wounds.

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Da più lati fra noi Conte risuona’,688 Che voi set’ ito, ove disio d’honore Sotto Bologna vi sospinge, e sprona. Per mostrar’ivi il vostr’ alto valore, Valor degno di tanto Cavaliero; Ma non degno però di tant’amore. Io quando à la ragion volgo il pensiero Godo meco, e gioisco, e vò lodando, Che così prode amante i ciel mi diero. Ma, quando poi ritorno al senso, quando Penso à i perigli, onde la guerra è piena, Che Marte a’ figli suoi và procacciando. Di timor’ in timor, di pena in pena, Meno questa noiosa, e mesta vita, Mentre voi foste qui dolce, e serena.689 Me accusando, ch’io non fossi ardita Di finir con un colpo i dolor miei, Anzi che voi da me feste partita. Felice è quella donna, à cui li Dei Han dato amante men’ illustre in sorte, E men vago di spoglie, e di trofei. Col qual le sue dimore lunghe, e corte Trapassa lieta, havendol sempre à lato, Fido, costante, valoroso, e forte. Felice il tempo antico, e fortunato, Quando era il mondo semplice, e innocente, Poco à le guerre, à le rapine usato, Allor quella beata, e queta gente Sotto una amica, e cara povertate Menava i giorni suoi sicuramente. Allor le Pastorelle innamorate Havean mai sempre seco i lor Pastori, Da i quai non eran mai abbandonate. Con lor da i primi matutini albori Scherzavan fin’ al dipartir del Sole, Lietamente cogliendo e frutti, e fiori. Et hor di vaghe rose, e di viole Tessevan vaghe ghirlandette, e care, Come chi sacri altari honora, e cole.

The Rime 28 7 (24 2)

The shores that separate us, Count, resound with news that you have left, pricked and spurred by honor to go to lands south of Bologna690 to show off there your own great valor: valor worthy of a knight such as you, but not, however, worthy of great passion. And I, when reason dominates my thoughts, rejoice—and go about praising what a valiant hero the heavens gave me. But when to my feelings I return, reflecting on all the dangers of which war is full and into which Mars sends his sons to gain honor,691 from one fear to the next, from trial to trial, I embark on this sad and troubled life (sweet and serene while you were here still), accusing myself of lacking the will to cancel my griefs with a single blow before you took your leave from me. Happy that woman to whom the gods gave a lover less renowned by destiny and less desirous of trophies and spoils, who spends her days contented, her beloved by her side for stays short or long, and he’s faithful, constant, valorous, and strong. Happy too those ancient and fortunate times692 when all the world was innocent and fresh, unaccustomed to war and to rapine; then in peaceful security, that quiet, blessed people passed their time, befriended by dear poverty. Then shepherdesses, enamored, dwelled always with their shepherds, by whom they never were abandoned. From the first glimmers of dawn to the sun’s setting, they played about, happily collecting flowers and fruits. And now with lovely roses, now with violets they wove precious little garlands as though to adorn and honor holy altars.

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Gaspara Stampa Nè la quiete lor potea turbare, L’empito de le guerre amaro, et empio, Che l’humane allegrezze suol cangiare. Guerre, che fan di noi si crudo scempio, Guerre, che turban sì l’humano stato, Guerre, suggetto d’ogni crudo essempio. Ben fù fiero colui, per cui trovato Fu prima il ferro; causa à tanti mali, Quanti il mondo prova hora, et ha provato. Le guerre, e le693 battaglie de’ mortali, Erano tutte in quella età novella, Contra i semplici, e poveri animali. Contra quali il Pastor, la Pastorella, Con rete in spalla, e con lacci, e con cani Givan cingendo questa selva, e quella. Ma poi quegli appetiti ingordi, insani694 Di posseder l’altrui robe, e l’havere, Da l’antica pietà si fer lontani. Quindi si cominciar prima à vedere Le crude guerre, e strepiti de l’armi, Che fan misere noi tanto temere. Alhor sonaro695 i bellicosi carmi, S’udiro per citade,696 e per campagne, Contra quai ogni stil convien, che s’ armi. Di lor convien, ch’io mi lamenti, e lagne, La lor mercede, il mio Signor m’è lunge, Per lor non è chi lassa m’accompagne. Voi, se zelo d’ Amor pur poco punge, Cavalier honorati, se si trova Alcun, cui Marte dal suo ben disgiunge. Dimostrate in altrui la vostra prova, Perdonate cortesi al Signor mio, In cui morir’, e viver sol mi giova. L’aspetto suo devria sol far restio L’empito d’ogni cruda, & empia mano, Senza che lo chiedessi humilment’ io. Laqual con quanto posso affetto humano, Con quanta posso estrema cortesia, E giunga il prego mio presso, e lontano. Prego, ch’ardito alcun di voi non sia,

The Rime Nor could the rumblings of bitter war, so accustomed to changing human fortune, in any way disturb their simple pleasures: wars of which we have so many examples, wars that so upset our daily lives, wars that reap such cruel destruction. So proud was he who first discovered iron, cause of so many of our ills, as the world has shown and shows today still; but in that young age, the wars of mortals and all their battles were only directed against the poor and simple animals; as the shepherd and his shepherdess would chase them circling this forest and that, with nets on their shoulders, and dogs, and traps. That voracious appetite—insanity!— to take the property of others was alien to ancient piety; only afterward one began to see harsh wars and the clamor of weapons that sparks among us—alas—such dread. Then through the city and countryside, the songs of war began to spread, and every style inspired to take up arms. And so it’s fitting that I weep and lament, for thanks to all this, my lord’s far away; and alas, there’s no one here by my side. Honorable soldiers whom the zeal for love spurs just a little—if you chance to find a man Mars has kept from his beloved, choose to unleash your valor on someone else. Be kindly, of my lord make an exception for whom it pleases me to live and die. His very face should stay the impetus of every cruel and wicked hand—thus I don’t need to make this humble request; so with as much passion as I can muster (and may my prayer reach him near and far), with as much courtesy as I can gather, I pray that one of you not be so bold

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Gaspara Stampa D’offender pur’ un poco un Signor tale, E turbar seco ancor la vita mia. E voi Conte, voi animo Reale Provato, e riprovato in ogni impresa, Deh se di me pur poco ancor vi cale. Quando sarà l’aspra battaglia accesa, Andate cauto, & habbiate rispetto A` me tutta per voi dubbia, e sospesa. E pensate che sia nel vostro petto L’anima mia con la vostr’ alma unita, Quasi in suo proprio, e suo alto ricetto. E sì come pensaste697 à la partita, Pensate Conte homai anco al ritorno, Se voi cercate di tenermi in vita. Ch’io vi vò richiamando notte, e giorno. 28 8 (24 3)

Dettata dal dolor cieco, & insano Vattene al mio Signor lettera amica, Baciando à lui la generosa mano. E digli, che dal dì, che la nimica Mia stella me lo tolse, il cibo mio E` sol noia, dolor, pianto, e fatica. Ben fu’l ciel’al mio ben contrario, e rio, Ch’à pena mi mostrò l’amato obietto, Che misera da me lo dipartio. O` brevi gioie, ò fral’ human diletto, O` nel regno d’ Amor tesor fugace, Subito mostro, e subito intercetto. Il bel paese, che superbo giace Fra’l Rodano, e la Mosa, hor mi contende La suprema cagion d’ogni mia pace. Mentre ivi il mio Signor gradito intende A` l’honorate giostre, a’ pregi, a’ ludi, Di cui sì chiara à noi fama s’estende. Io misera, che’n lui tutti i miei698 studi, Tutte le voglie ho poste essendo lunge, Conven, che disiando agghiacci, e sudi.

The Rime as to harm such a lord even a bit, and thus disturb my life along with his. And you, Count—with heart so royal, you who are tried and true in all endeavors, ah, if you still think I’m worth just a little, go cautiously, please, and have respect— when this bitter battle finally erupts— for me, who wait in doubt and suspense; and know then that there in your breast my soul is tied to yours alone, as though lodged within its own most lofty home. And just as you prepared for your departure, Count, if you’d like me to stay alive— now turn all thought to your return, for I go calling after you, day and night. 28 8 (24 3)

Sorrow drove me, blind and mad, friendly letter, to dictate you:699 now run to my lord and kiss his noble hand and tell him that from the day my unfriendly star took him away, I’ve dined on naught but weariness, and grief and pain. So was heaven contrary and unkind, for hardly did it let me see my beloved than he left me alone and wretched. O fleeting joys, fragile human pleasure, that in love’s kingdom such treasures are revealed, then suddenly withdrawn!700 That lovely land that lies so proudly between Rhône and Meuse now competes with me701 for the great source of all my peace, while my lord there takes part in jousts, in worthy games, honored tournaments, and so his fame extends as far as us. Wretched me, I’ve placed in him alone all of my study, all my desires—and yet he’s far away, reducing me to fire and ice.

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Gaspara Stampa E sì fiero il martir m’assale, e punge, Ch’io mi vivo sol d’esso, e vivrommi anco Fin che’l ciel Conte à me vi ricongiunge. Voi qual guerrier vittorioso, e franco Ferite altrui con l’honorata lancia, Io son ferita qui dal lato manco. O` per me poca702 aventurosa Francia, O` bel paese avverso a’ miei disiri, Che’mpallidir mi fai spesso la guancia. Dovunque avien, che gli occhi volga e giri, Non vi trovando voi Conte mi resto Senza speranza, preda de’ sospiri. Voi prometteste ben di scriver presto, Non possendo tornar per porger’ esca, Fra tanto al mio disir’ atro, e funesto. E poi, che non lo fate temo, ch’esca703 Da la memoria vostra la mia fede, E che del mio dolor poco v’incresca. E` questa de l’ Amor mio la mercede? E de la vostra fede è questo il pegno? Misera Donna, ch’ad amante crede. Credetti amar’ un Cavalier più degno, E’l più bel che mai fosse, & hor m’aveggio, Che la credenza mia non giunge al segno? Empia Fortuna hor che mi poi far peggio Rottemi le promesse di colui, Senza cui, d’ogni mal preda vaneggio? Io non spero giamai, che come fui Vostra Conte una volta non sia sempre, Così non foste voi Conte d’altrui. Non sò, perche la vita non si stempre, Non sò, com’hor con voi ragioni, e scriva, Afflitta sì de l’ amorose704 tempre. Ma, lassa, che dich’io? perche mi priva, Sì’l duol del vero mio conoscimento, Ch’io tema d’una fè tenace, e viva? Non sete voi quel pieno d’ardimento, Di senno, e di valor, ch’à mille prove Trovato ho fido cento volte, e cento?

The Rime And so fiercely do these torments assail and sting since I’ve lived without him and so will live until heaven sees fit to return the count to me. Just as you, a soldier victorious and frank,705 wound others with your worthy lance, so am I wounded here in my heart. Little good has come to me through France— you’re hostile to my wishes, you lovely land, who far too often leave my cheeks so pale, for whenever in hope I turn my eyes of finding you, Count, and fail, I lose all hope and am devoured by sighs. Once you promised to write me quickly, since if you don’t return, the only bait for my dark desires are your words. And since you haven’t written, I can only fear that what’s slipped your mind is my great faith, and any care for the troubles I bear. Is this the thanks I get for my love? Is this the proof I have of your faith? Wretched the woman who believes in her lover! I thought I loved a knight more worthy of my love—and the handsomest to boot— but I see my belief was sadly unfounded. Evil fortune, how could you do worse than this to me: he’s broken his promise, the man without whom I’m subject to every harm? I’ll never hope again I might be yours forever, Count, as I was once—just as I no longer hope you’ll never be another’s. Why doesn’t life consume itself; how can I think, how can I write to you, afflicted and assailed by these amorous tempers? But, alas, what am I saying? Why let grief deprive me of the knowledge that I’ve gained, making me fear a faith tenacious and alive? Are you not that deep well of passion, of wisdom and valor, a thousand times proven, of faith, as I’ve found on a hundred occasions?

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Gaspara Stampa Perche debb’io temer, ch’essendo altrove Da me partito à pena, in voi sì tosto Novo Amor’ a’ miei danni si rinove? Deh dolce Conte mio per quelle, e queste Fra noi hore lietissime passate, Ond’ io mi piacqui, e voi vi compiaceste. Più lungamente homai non indugiate A` scrivermi due versi solamente, Se’l mio diletto, e la mia vita amate. Che non potendo veder voi presente, Il veder vostre carte darà certo Qualche soccorso à l’affannata mente. Questo al mio grand’ Amor è picciol merto, Ma sarà nondimeno ampio ristoro Al faticoso mio poggiar’, & erto. Ben felice è lo stato di coloro, Che per buona fortuna, e destro fato Han sempre presso il lor caro tesoro. Misera me, che m’è’l mio ben vietato, Allor, che più bramava, e più devea Essergli caramente ogn’hor’ à lato. La mia Fortuna instabilmente rea Mi vi diè tosto, e tosto mi vi tolse,706 Che maggior danno far non mi potea. Ma voi, se dentro il vostro cor s’accolse Giamai vera pietà di chi v’adora, Di chi più voi, che la sua vita volse. Non fate, com’ ho detto, più dimora, Di scrivermi, e poi far tosto ritorno, Se non volete comportar, ch’io mora; Come stò per morir di giorno, in giorno. 28 9 (24 4)

De Le ricche707 beate, e chiare rive D’Adria, di cortesia nido, e d’Amore, Ove sì dolce si soggiorna, e vive, Donna, havendo lontano il suo signore, Quando il Sol si diparte, e quando poi A` noi rimena il matutino albore.

The Rime Why then should I fear that now that you’re gone—you’ve scarcely departed—some new love will renew you and do me harm? Ah, my sweet Count, with the thought of all those happy hours that passed between us in which you and I knew such pleasure, no longer hesitate to write me just two verses, at your leisure, if you care for my life and well-being. For since I can’t see you here in the flesh, seeing the pages marked with your hand would certainly ease this troubled mind. For my great love, this would be small reward, but certainly would help to restore me on this ascent that’s tiring, and hard. Happy those women who because of good fortune and favorable stars have always near them the treasure that they find is so dear, while I’m so wretched because I’m denied this pleasure, just as I was most desirous and deserving of having him alongside me. My heartless fortune—an inconstant thing— gave him to me and then tore us apart, and it could have done me no greater harm. But if you might find within your heart a trace of compassion for her who adores you, for she holds you dearer than her life, no longer wait, as I’ve said, to come forth with your letters, and then—don’t delay— your very self, unless you’d rather I die, since I’m languishing here day after day. 28 9 (24 4)

From the blessed, rich, and famous shores of Venice, love’s nest and courtesy’s, where we so sweetly live and dwell, a woman whose lord is far away when the sun departs and when it returns to us, restoring the colors of the day,

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Gaspara Stampa Per isfogar gli ardenti disir suoi, Con queste voci lo sospira, e chiama, Voi rive, che l’udite ditel voi. Tu, che volando vai di rama in rama, Consorte amata, e fida Tortorella, E sai quanto sì708 tema, e quanto s’ama. Quando, volando in questa parte, e’n quella, Sei vicina al mio ben, mostragli aperto In note, c’habbian voce di favella. Digli quant’ è’l mio stato aspro, & incerto Hor, che, lassa, da lui mi trovo lunge Per ria Fortuna mia, e non per merto.709 E tu, Rosignuolin, quando ti punge Giusto disio di disfogar tuoi lai, Con voce, ove cantando non s’aggiunge. Digli dolente quanto fossi mai, Che la mia vita è tutta oscura notte, Essendo priva di quei dolci rai. E tu, che’n cave, e solitarie grotte, Eco soggiorni, il suon de’ miei lamenti Rendi à l’orecchie sue con voci rotte. E voi dolci aure, & amorosi venti, I miei sospir’ accolti in lunga schiera, Deh fate al Signor mio tutti presenti. E voi, che lunga, e dolce Primavera Serbate ombrose selve, e sete spesso Fido soggiorno à questa, e à quella fera. Mostrate tutti710 al mio Signor’ espresso, Che non pur’ i diletti mi son noia; Ma la vita m’è Morte anco senz’esso. Ei si portò partendo ogni mia gioia, E se tornando homai non la rimena, Per forza converrà tosto, ch’io moia. La speme sola al viver mio dà lena, Laqual non tornand’ ei non può durare, Da soverchio disio vinto,711 e da pena. Quell’hore, ch’io solea tutte passare Liete, e tranquille, mentre er’ ei presente, Hor, ch’egli è lunge son tornate amare.

The Rime unleashes the desire that so burns her, as with these words she sighs and calls;712 you shores, who heard her, tell it all. “You faithful and beloved turtledove, you who go flying about from tree to tree and know how much I fear and love, when you go soaring here and there, and are near my love, show him openly in notes that have the force of words. Tell him how harsh, alas, uncertain is my state when I am far from him, through unkind fortune, not my own deserts. And nightingale, when you’re overcome by the desire to unleash your lays in words, where my own song can’t reach,713 tell him that I’ve never known such grief, that all my life is one dark night when I’m deprived of his sweet rays. And Echo, you who sojourn in caves and solitary lairs, in fractured words bring to his ears the sounds of my laments.714 And you, sweet breezes, love-filled winds, ah, gather up my sighs in one long strain and bring them as one before my lord. You shadowed woods who conserve the spring and make it linger, and often secure now for this beast, now that, a place to dwell, say to my lord, and all together, that not only are pleasures tedious, but life without him to me is death. And since he took with him my every joy and doesn’t bring them back by returning, then it’s only fitting that I die. Hope alone to my life gives breath, but if he won’t come it can’t endure, killed by suffering and desire in excess. Those happy hours that I used to pass in tranquility while he was present, now that he’s gone are simply harsh;

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Gaspara Stampa Ma, lassa, à torto del suo mal sì pente,715 A` torto chiama il suo destin crudele, Chi volontario al suo morir consente. Lassa, io devea con mie giuste querele, O` far, che non andasse, ò far, ch’andando Non desse al vento senza me le vele. C’hor non m’andrei dolente lamentando, Nè temenza d’oblio, nè gelosia Non m’havrebber di me mandata in bando. Emendate Signor la colpa mia, Voi ritornando, ove’l vostro ritorno Più che la propria vita si disia. E, se rimena il Sole un dì quel giorno, Non pensate mai più da me partire, Ch’io non vi sia da presso notte e giorno, Poi ch’io mi veggo senza voi morire. 29 0 (24 5)

Musa mia, che sì pronta, e sì cortese A` pianger fosti meco, & à cantare Le mie gioie d’ Amor tutte, e l’offese. In tempre oltra l’usato aspre, & amare, Movi meco dolente, e sbigottita Con le Sorelle à pianger’, e à gridare. In questa aspra, & amara dipartita, Che per far me da me stessa partire, Hanno Fortuna, e’l mio Signor’ ordita. E perche forse non potrem supplire Noi soli à tanta doglia in parte al pianto, Queste rive, e quest’ onde fà venire. Onde, che meco si compiacquer tanto, De la cara presenza di colui, C’hor lunge sospirando io chiamo e canto. Questi Amor son gli usati frutti tui, Brevissimi diletti, e lunghe doglie, Ch’io provo, che tua serva sono, e fui. Che, come toglie à gli arbori le foglie, Tosto l’ Autunno, così di tua mano, Se si dona alcun ben, tosto si toglie.

The Rime but alas, it’s wrong for me to feel regret, I do wrong to call my destiny cruel— or him who willingly consents to my death. Alas, with only the sound of my lays I should have forced him not to go— or if going, not to set sail without me. Then you would not find me here lamenting, fearful of being forgotten, prey to the jealousy that’s banished me from myself. Lord, then correct this fault of mine by coming back—since your return’s more to be desired than life itself. And if someday the sun chances to restore day to me, never think of leaving again— if I don’t have you near me night and morn, without you all that I see is death. 29 0 (24 5)

My Muse, so kind, always so ready to weep with me, and sing all the joys of love, and all the wrongs it brings, in tones that exceed our usual words of bitterness, come to cry and grieve with me grief-stricken and lost, and bring your sisters,716 as I’m now forced to leave my very self thanks to his parting, harsh and bitter, a thing ordained by my lord and fortune. And because alone we can’t produce a sorrow that’s sufficient, then make these banks and waves come too. For they along with me have taken pleasure in his presence, he for whom I sing and call, sighing all the way. Such brief delights and drawn-out sorrow— Love, these are your usual fruits, and I who was and am your servant: I should know. For just as too soon the autumn strips the trees of leaves, so does your hand sow goodness, only too quickly to snatch it away.

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Gaspara Stampa Tu mi donasti, & hor mi tien lontano Quanto ben tu puoi darmi, e quanto vede, Di caro il Sol tornando à l’Oceano. E bench’io sia sicura di sua fede, Ben ch’io riposi inquanto m’ha promesso, Ne le dolci parole, che mi diede, Quando’l disio m’assale, ch’è si spesso, Non essendo qui meco chi l’appaga, La vita mia è un morir’ espresso. Donne, cui punge l’amorosa piaga, Di lassar dipartir l’amato bene, Non sia alcuna di voi, che sia717 vaga, Perche son poi maggior’ assai le pene Di quel, ch’altri si crede, ò che s’aspetta, Qualhor l’amara disianza viene. Niuna cosa à noi piace, ò diletta, Se non v’è quel, che ne la fà piacere; Quel, ch’ogni nostra gioia fa perfetta. Io quel, che voglio non posso volere, Se quel, ch’amo non ho presso, ò d’intorno, Quel, che le noie mie torna in piacere. Tu, che fai hora à Lendenara giorno, Almo mio Sole, & à me notte oscura, Sole, à cui sempre col pensier ritorno, De l’alta fede mia sincera, e pura Tien’ almen la memoria, che si deve, Che durerà fin che mia vita dura. E se degna pietà, ti move in breve O` scrivi, ò vieni, ò manda sì ch’io sia, Scema di cura dispietata, e greve. Che tanto durerà la vita mia, Quant’ io sarò sicura d’esser cara, E d’esser presso à chi’l mio cor desia, Il mio cor, c’hora alberga in Lendenara. 29 1 (29 6)

Non aspettò giamai focoso amante, La disiata, e la bramata vista, Di quel, per cui versò lagrime tante,

The Rime You gave me but now keep far from me the greatest blessing, as dear as anything on which the sun might gaze as he travels the seas; and while I trust in his good faith, and while I take comfort in his promise, and in those sweet words he gave me, I’ll say this: when desire assails me, which is often, and he who can satisfy it is gone, my life is hell—it’s plain to see. Ladies stung by this amorous plague, not a single one of you who are fond of your beloved should let him get away— for the torments that bitter distance brings are always much greater than what you think whenever that bitter desire strikes. Nothing can please, nothing brings delight if he’s not there who is the source of your pleasure, the man who can make every joy perfect. And I—I can’t desire what I’d like if the one I love is not here or nearby, the man who sweetens all my trials: 718 you, my blessed sun who bring the day to Lendenara, but to me dark night,719 my sun to whom in thought I always return. And of my faith, sincere and pure, retain at least the memory, for it’s well deserved, and as long as my life lasts, it will endure; and if compassion moves you, in brief: then write, or send something, or come, so that of this disquieting care I’m freed, for my life will only last as long as I’m sure of being dear and near to the man to whom my heart holds fast— my heart, that dwells there in Lendenara. 29 1 (29 6)

An ardent lover never so waited for the longed-for face of his beloved, for whom he poured forth so many tears;

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Gaspara Stampa Non aspettò giamai anima trista, E distinata nel profondo Abisso, La faccia del Signor di gloria mista, Non aspettò giamai servo, ch’ affisso Fosse à dura, & acerba servitute, A` la sua libertà’l termin prefisso. Non disiò giamai la giovintute Cara e gioisa, un’huom già carco d’ anni, In cui tutte le forze son perdute. Non disiò giamai d’uscir d’affanni Un, cui fortuna aversa afflige e preme, Scarco,720 e gravato d’infiniti danni. Non aspettò giamai un’huom, che teme Vicin’ à morte la sua sanitate, Di cui era già giunto à l’hore estreme. Non aspettò giamai le luci amate Di dilettoso, caro, e dolce721 figlio, Benigna madre, e carca di pietate, Non aspettò giamai di gran periglio, Sì disiosa722 uscir nave, à cui l’onde, E nemica tempesta dier di piglio. Quant’io le carte tue care, e gioconde, MIRTILLA mia, MIRTILLA à le cui voglie Ogni mia voglia, ogni disir risponde. MIRTILLA mia, con laqual mi si toglie Ogni mia gioia, & ogni mio diletto, Restando preda di perpetue doglie. Col cui leggiadro, e gratioso aspetto Mi si rende ogni bene, ogni piacere Dolce, amoroso, caro, alto, & eletto. Che non potendo te propria vedere, Veder’ i frutti del tuo vago ingegno, E` quanto di conforto723 io posso havere. Però tosto ch’io vidi il caro pegno De l’ Amor tuo ver me, l’amiche carte, De la memoria tua perpetuo segno. Quel piacer, che può dar’ à parte, à parte Cosa dolce, e gradita, ho sentit’ io, Si c’ha gran724 pena io lo potrei contarte.

The Rime a doomed soul destined for the deepest abyss never so awaited the face of God, full of glory; a servant pledged to harsh and bitter service never so looked forward to his freedom, his term complete; a man already bowed down with age never so desired, his strength depleted, the belated return of youth; a man pressed upon, afflicted by bitter misfortunes never so hoped for an end to his trials; a man fearing he was close to death, having reached his final hour, never so desired a return to health; a loving mother full of compassion never so awaited the beloved eyes of her sweet delightful son; a ship never so longed to escape the great dangers of a sea whose waves and harmful storms threatened the worst— as much as I desire your letters, dear and joyful, my Mirtilla, to whose wishes every wish of mine, every desire answers725: my Mirtilla, who when she’s gone steals from me all joy and delight and makes me prey to perpetual sorrow; whose light and gracious presence render all things good and every pleasure sweet, lovely, and dear, profound and rare. But now that I can’t see your face, to gaze on the fruits of your charming wit is all the comfort I’m allowed to have.726 As soon as I saw that dear pledge of your love for me, those friendly pages, living legacy of your memory, the delight that’s born from all things sweet and welcome overcame me, so it’s barely possible to recount it all to you.

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Gaspara Stampa Quel, c’ha turbato alquanto il gioir mio, E` stato entr’esse il legger’, e’l vedere Cosa tutta contraria al mio disio, Che la MIRTILLA mia degna d’havere Prospero corso, e vera, e dolce pace, Sia stata astretta per febre727 à giacere. Questo però fra’l mezo mal728 mi piace, Che la mercè di Dio, vi sete presto Convaluta del mal’ aspro, e tenace. Hor’ attendete à conservar’ il resto Del tempo, che da me sarete lunge, Sì ch’ anco à me non sia’l viver molesto. Perch’un sol duol due corpi insieme punge, Si come un solo amor’, & una fede, Et una voluntà due cor congiunge. E, se talhor di voi cerca far prede Qualche cura noiosa, adoperate Quell’estrema virtù, che’l ciel vi diede, E fra tanto di me vi ricordate. 29 2 (22 2)

Dimmi per la tua face, Amor’, e per gli strali, Per questi, che mi dan colpi mortali, E quella, che mi sface, Onde avien, che non osi Ferir’ il mio Signore, Altero de’ tuo stratij, e del mio core In sembianti pietosi? Ove anniderò poi, Mi risponde ei, s’io perdo gli occhi suoi?729 29 3 (22 3)

Così m’impresse al core La beltà vostra Amor co’ raggi suoi, Che di me fuor mi trasse, e pose in voi; Hor, che son voi fatt’ io, Voi meco una medesma cosa sete;

The Rime And yet between the seeing and the reading, I discovered something to disturb my joy, completely counter to my desire: for my Mirtilla, who so deserves to prosper and enjoy a sense of peace that’s true and sweet, has been constrained by fever to take to bed—in the midst of these troubles may God extend his mercy to you quickly and cure this bitter and tenacious sickness. In the interim, which to me will endure for far too long, of yourself take care, so to us both life won’t be too unpleasant. For a single sorrow strikes two bodies, just as a single love, one faith, a single will conjoins two hearts. And if now and then some bothersome thing pursues you, put to work that lasting virtue that heaven itself gave you, and every now and then, think on me. 29 2 (22 2) 7 3 0

“By your torch, tell me, Love, and by your arrows, those objects that give me mortal blows while the torch undoes me: why is it that you don’t chance to wound my lord, so disdainful of your blows and of my heart, with piteous semblances?” “But where will I hide,” he answers me, “if I lose his eyes?” 29 3 (22 3)

Love has so impressed onto my heart your beauty with his rays, he’s drawn me from myself and placed me in you: thus I have become you, and you and I are one and the same.

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Gaspara Stampa Onde al ben’, al mal mio, Come al vostro pensar sempre devete; Ma pur, se al fin volete, Che’l vostro orgoglio la mia vita uccida, Pensate, che di voi sete homicida. 29 4 (22 4)

L’empio tuo strale Amore E` più crudo, e più forte Assai, che quel di Morte, Che per Morte una volta sol sì more;731 E tu col tuo colpire, Uccidi mille, e non si può morire; Dunque Amore è men male La Morte, che’l tuo strale. 29 5 (22 5)

Io veggio spesso Amore, Girarsi intorno à gli occhi732 chiari, e vaghi, Dolci del mio cor maghi, De l’amato, e gradito mio Signore, Quinci par che saetti, E sian gli strali suoi gioie, e diletti; Queste son’ armi, che danno altrui vita, In luogo di ferita. 29 6 (22 6)

Sapete voi, perche ogn’un non accende, E non empie d’ Amore L’infinita beltà del mio Signore; Però ch’ogn’un com’io non la comprende, A` cui per sorte è dato Vedervi quel, ch’à tant’altri è vietato; Che, se non fosse ciò, le pietre, e l’erbe Spirerebbeno ardore, E girian di tal fiamma alte, e superbe.

The Rime Whatever good is mine, or bad, think of it always as your own— yet if at the end you’ll claim to use your pride to destroy my life, just realize you’ve committed suicide. 29 4 (22 4)

Your poisoned arrow, Love, is crueler and more strong than the one that belongs to Death, for he strikes once, and you die, while your blows strike a thousand times, and we cannot die. Thus, Love, death is less harsh than your dart. 29 5 (22 5)

Often I see Love hovering about the sweet enchanters of my heart, those bright, desiring eyes of my lord so welcome, and beloved. It seems that his darts and arrows are joys and delights; these are his weapons, which give others life instead of wounds. 29 6 (22 6)

Do you know why everyone isn’t burned and ablaze with love in the wake of my lord’s infinite beauty? Why doesn’t everyone grasp what I’ve learned— I whom fate has given to see those things that to others are forbidden? Otherwise, the very rocks and plants would breathe with desire and go about proud and boastful of his fire.

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Gaspara Stampa 29 7 (22 7)

Se tu credi piacere al mio Signore, Come si vede chiaro Amor’ empio, & avaro, Poi che non gli hai pur tocco l’alma e’l core, E come è anche degno, Poi che con gli occhi suoi mantien’il733 regno; Per che vuoi pur, ch’io moia, Per dargli biasmo, e noia? Biasmo, d’esser crudele, Havendo uccisa Donna sì fedele; Noia, perche se vive del mio stratio, Chi lo farà poi satio? 29 8 (22 8)

Il cor verrebbe teco, Nel tuo partir Signore, S’egli fosse più meco, Poi che con gli occhi tuoi mi prese Amore; Dunque veranno teco i sospir miei, Che sol mi son restati Fidi compagni, e grati, E le voci, e gli omei; E se vedi mancarti la lor scorta, Pensa, ch’io sarò morta. 29 9 (22 9)

Qual fosse il mio martire Nel vostro dipartire, Voi’l potete di qui Signor stimare, Che mi fù tolto infin’il lagrimare. E l’humor, che per gli occhi uscendo fore, Suol sfogarmi’l dolore In quell’ amara, e cruda dipartita Mi negò la sua aita. O` mio misero stato, D’ altra donna non mai visto, ò provato,734

The Rime 29 7 (22 7)

If you want to keep my lord content, as it would seem, Love, cruel and greedy, since you don’t possess his soul or heart and since—as is right— you maintain your very kingdom with his eyes, why, then, do you want me to die? To give him blame and cause him hurt? Blame for being cruel and killing a woman so faithful; hurt—for if he dines on my pain, who will feed him once I’m gone? 29 8 (22 8)

My heart would go with you to live, lord, in your parting, if it was still mine to give, but with your very eyes Love took it from me. Thus my sighs will travel alongside you; they alone are left to me, faithful, welcome companions of my words and laments; and if you see them without their guide you’ll know that I have died. 29 9 (22 9)

Whatever I suffered upon your departure, you can only imagine, lord, for you took away from me even my tears. For the humor from the eyes when released once unburdened my grief, then denied me its aid in that cruel, bitter leave-taking. O pitiful state of mine, never seen or known by any other woman,

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Gaspara Stampa Poi che quello, ond’ Amor è si cortese Nel maggior uopo à me sola contese. 30 0 (23 1)

Le pene de l’Inferno insieme insieme, Appresso il mio gran foco, Tutte son nulla, ò poco; Perch’ ove non è speme, L’anima risoluta al partir sempre S’avezza al duol, che mai non cangia tempre. La mia è maggior noia, Perche gusto talhor’ ombra di gioia, Mercè de la speranza, E questa varia usanza Di gioir’, e patire, Fan735 maggior il martire. 30 1 (23 2)

Se’l cibo, onde i suoi servi nudre Amore, E`’l dolore, e’l martire, Come poss’io morire, Nodrita dal dolore? Il semplicetto pesce, Che solo ne l’humor vive, e respira, In un momento spira Tosto, che de l’acqua esce; E l’animal, che vive in fiamma, e’n foco, Muor, come cangia loco, Hor se tu voi, ch’io moia Amor trammi di guai, e pommi in gioia, Perche col pianto mio cibo vitale, Tu non mi puoi far male. 30 2 (23 3)

Beato insogno,736 e caro, Che sotto oscuro velo m’hai mostrato Il mio felice stato,

The Rime since Love’s gift of tears—such courtesy— abandoned me when I most had need!737 30 0 (23 1)

When all the sufferings of hell, put together as one,738 are placed next to my flame, they are little or nothing, for where hope is gone, the soul resolved always to suffer avails itself of grief that never alters its temper. My trial is the greater, since it tastes only joy’s shadow, thanks to hope’s fleeting gift; and this ever-shifting pattern of joy and torment makes my suffering the greater. 30 1 (23 2)

If the food of Love on which his servants dine is suffering without relief, how can I die, I’m so nurtured by grief? The simple little fish that lives and breathes in water alone will in a minute expire as soon as he leaves the sea; and the animal that lives in flame and fire dies once it changes its home. Now, Love, if you seek my death, plunge me into joy, of my travails bereft, because with my vital food—my tears— you cannot harm me. 30 2 (23 3)

Blessed dream, and dear, that under a dark veil have revealed to me my state, so happy,

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Gaspara Stampa Qual potrà ingegno chiaro, Qunt’ io739 debbo, e vorrei giamai lodarte In vive voci, ò’n carte.740 Io per me farò fede, Dovunque esser potrà mia voce udita, Che sol, la tua mercede, Io son restata in vita. 30 3 (23 0)

Signor per cortesia Non mi dite, che quand’ andaste via, Amor mi negò’l pianto; Perche vedendo in me già spento il foco, L’acqua non v’havea loco, Per temperarlo alquanto; Anzi dite più tosto, che fù tanto, In quel punto l’ardore, Che diseccò l’humore; E non potei mostrare L’acerba pena mia col lagrimare, Perciò che’l corpo mio d’ ogni humor casso, O` restò tutto foco, ò tutto sasso. 30 4 (23 4)

Deh farà mai ritorno à gli occhi miei Quel vivo, e chiaro lume Ond’ io vivo, e quei veggon per costume? Potran mai le mie lagrime, e gli omei Far molle chi di lor si pasce, e vive, Che sta da me lontano, e non mi scrive? Aspro, e selvaggio core, Quest’ è la fe d’ Amore? 30 5 (23 5)

Conte dov’ è andata La fè sì tosto, che m’havete data? Che vuol dir, che la mia E più741 costante, che non era pria?

The Rime what lively wit will ever here praise you as much as I should, and would, in spoken words or writing? So I’ll give you my faith: wherever my voice can be heard, thanks alone to your grace, I remain on this earth. 30 3 (23 0)

Lord, for pity’s sake— don’t tell me that when you went away, Love wouldn’t let me weep, as though my fire was already spent and my tears had nothing left to temper with their moisture: rather, say that my passion at that point was such that all tears dried up, and I couldn’t make you see my bitter pain by weeping, for my body, so deprived of moisture, was turned to fire, or entirely to stone.742 30 4 (23 4)

Will that bright and lively light ever return again to my eyes, with which I see, the reason I’m alive? Will my tears and laments ever soften him, he who lives and feeds on them, who strays so far away, and does not write me? Wild and savage heart, is this how love fulfills its promise? 30 5 (23 5)

Count, the faith you gave me— where did it go, and why so quickly? What does it mean that my own is more constant than it was before?

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Gaspara Stampa Che vuol dir che dapoi, Che voi partiste, io son sempre con voi? Sapete voi quel, che dirà la gente, Dove forza d’ Amor punto si sente? O` che Conte crudele, O` che Donna fedele.743 30 6 (23 6)

Spesso, ch’ Amor con le sue tempre usate, Assal la vostra misera Anassilla, Vi prenderia di lei Conte pietate, In vederla, & udilla; Perche le pene sue, i suoi cordogli Rompono i duri scogli, Ma voi state lontano, Et ella piange in vano, Veggano Amore, e’l ciel, che’l tutto vede La vostra rotta, e la sua salda fede. 30 7 (23 7)

S’io credessi por fine al mio martire, Certo vorrei morire; Perche una morte sola Non occide, consola; Ma temo, lassa me, che dopo morte L’amoroso martir prema più forte; E questo posso dirlo, perche io Moro più volte, e pur cresce il disio. Dunque per men tormento Di vivere, e penar, lassa, consento. 30 8 (23 8)

Con quai segni Signor, volete ch’io Vi mostri l’amor mio, Se amando, e morendo adhora adhora Non si crede per voi, lassa, ch’io mora? Aprite lo mio cor, c’havete in mano, E, se l’imagin vostra non v’è impressa,

The Rime What does it mean that since you’ve left, I’m always with you? Do you know what people will say, where the force of Love is never felt? “Oh, what a count—so cruel! Oh, what a lady—so faithful!” 30 6 (23 6)

Often when Love with his usual weapons assails your wretched Anassilla, you would take pity on her, Count, if you saw and heard her, since her trials and her moans shatter the hardest stones, but you are far away, and she weeps in vain. May Love and heaven, which see all, witness that your faith is broken and hers—strong. 30 7 (23 7)

If I thought it would end my strife, certainly I’d want to die; because one death alone doesn’t kill, it consoles. But piteous me—I fear that after death this martyrdom for love is more oppressive; and I can swear to this, because my desire grows each time I die. Thus for less torment, alas, to live and suffer, I consent. 30 8 (23 8)

With what signs, lord, do you think I should show you my love, if my loving and dying each hour—alas— aren’t enough to convince you that I die? Open my heart that you hold in your hand, and if your own image there isn’t impressed,744

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Gaspara Stampa Dite, ch’io non sia d’essa,745 E, s’ella v’è, à che pungermi in vano, L’alma di sì crudi hami, Con dir pur, ch’io non v’ami? Io v’amo, & amerò fin che le ruote Girin del Sol, e più, se più si puote. E, se voi nol credete, E` perche crudo sete. 30 9 (23 9)

Dal mio vivace foco Nasce un’ effetto raro, Che non ha forse in altra Donna paro. Che quando allenta un poco, Egli par, che m’incresca, Sì chiaro è chi l’accende, e dolce l’esca. E, dove per costume, Par, chel746 foco consume, Me nutre il foco, e consuma il pensare, Che’l foco habbia à mancare. 31 0 (24 0)

Deh, perche soffri Amor, che disiando La mia vivace fede, Resti senza mercede, Anzi di vita, et di me stessa in bando? S’io amo, & ardo fuor d’ogni misura, Perche si prende à gioco L’amor mio e’l mio foco, Che mi vede morir, e non ha cura?747 Gli Orsi, i Leoni, e le più crude fere Move talhor pietade, Di chi con humiltade, Nel maggior uopo suo mercè lor chiere; E quella cruda voglia, Che vive di martire, Allor suol più gioire, Quand’ avien, ch’io più sfaccia,748 e più m’addoglia.

The Rime say that I’m no longer mine; and if it is, then why pierce my heart in vain with such cruel wounds by saying I no longer love you? I do love you, and will love as long as the sun turns its wheels, and longer, if permitted one. And if you don’t believe me it’s thanks to your cruelty. 30 9 (23 9)

From my living flame, something wonderful is born that may have no equal in another woman: for when it dies down I feel that it grows, so great is he who lights it and so sweet the bait. And whereas it’s the custom that fire consumes, I’m fed by my flame: what consumes is the thought that one day the fire will be naught. 31 0 (24 0)

Love, how can you put up with this? while you insist on my fidelity I’m left without mercy— no, without life, myself in the balance! Since I love and burn to excess why does he play749 with my love and flame— he who cares not to see my death? Tigers, lions, the most savage beasts would show pity for such humility, render mercy in the moment of greatest need; and that cruel will that on torment thrives even pleasure finds when I’m most undone and with grief most ill.

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APPENDIX A POEMS NOT INCLUDED IN THE 1554 A N T H O L O G Y B U T P U B L I S H E D U N D E R S TA M PA’ S N A M E I N S U B S E Q U E N T S I X T E E N T H - C E N T U RY COLLECTIONS

The following sonnet was first published as “A M. Giovan Iacopo Bonetti” in Rime Diverse d’Alcune Nobilissime, et Virtuosissime Donne, raccolte per M. Lodovico Domenichi (Lucca: Busdragho, 1559), p. 56, under Stampa’s name. In the 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions it is published as sonnet 243 in the former and 263 in the latter two, while the sonnet that occupies that place in the 1554 (“S’amor Natura al nobil’ intelletto”) is listed as an anonymous poem in later editions, placed in the front matter of 1738 and as sonnet 8 of the Rime di diversi in the 1913 volume. This text follows the 1559 edition. Dotto, saggio, gentil, chiaro Bonetto, La cui bontá il bel nome ancor pareggia E l’alta1 cortesia, che signoreggia Il nobil cor, ch’a ognun2 vi rende accetto, Aper3 bramo Io dal vostro almo intelletto, Che le cose segrete in Dio vagheggia, Quale è più, il danno o l’util che si veggia Il mondo trar da l’amoroso affetto. Ditemi ancor perché fu Amor dipinto Giá dagli antichi, e da’ moderni ancora Si pinge faretrato, ignudo, & cieco?4 Questo dubbio da voi mi sia distinto, Che nel mio cor gran tempo giá dimora, Mercé de l’ignoranza ch’è ogn’hor meco.5

1. 1738: Or l’ alta. 2. 1738: cor a ognun. 3. 1738, 1913, 1954: Saper (clearly a mistake in the 1559 edition). 4. 1913 and 1954 eliminate the question mark. The 1738 edition has a question mark at the end of the second stanza as well. 5. 1738, 1913, 1954: ch’è ognor meco.

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Appendix A Learned, wise, renowned, and kind Bonetto,6 whose goodness equals your lovely name, whose great courtesy, which in the noble heart is lord, makes you well received by all, I long to know from your lofty intellect that wanders among the secret things of God, which is greater—the evil or the good one sees the world draw forth from amorous affection? And tell me too why Love was once depicted by the ancients, and why we moderns paint him too, as armed with arrows, blind and nude: may you undo for me this doubt that I’ve long harbored in my heart, fruit of this ignorance that’s always with me. The following capitolo was first published in the anthology edited by Cristoforo Zabata in 1573, Nuova scelta di rime di diversi begli ingegni (Genoa: Christofforo Bellone), and attributed to Stampa. It is the last poem in Stampa’s sequence in the 1738 edition, just after the madrigals; the 1913 and 1954 edition print it as 298. The text follows the 1913 edition. Given the vocabulary and an overly constrained use of the terza rime, as well as an insinuation at line 15 that the author is married, there is support for the view that the poem is not Stampa’s. Felice in questa e piú ne l’altra vita chi fugge, come voi, prima che provi, la miseria del secolo infinita; prima che dentr’al cor si turbi e movi per tanti inaspettati uman cordogli, e poi d’uscirne al fin loco non trovi. Felice anima, tu, che qui ti spogli di questi affetti miseri e terreni, e de le nostre pene non ti dogli!7 Tutti i tuoi dí saran lieti e sereni, senz’ira, senza guerra e senza danni, di pace, di riposo e d’amor pieni. Felice chi si fa sotto umil panni, di Cristo, signor suo, devot’ancella, né prova i nostri maritali affanni! E, gli occhi alzando a la divina stella, lascia quest’aspro e periglioso mare, ch’aura giamai non ha senza procella! Felice chi non ha tant’ore amare,

6. Jacopo Bonetto, about whom virtually nothing is known. 7. The 1954 edition inverts these two lines: e de le nostre pene non ti dogli! / di questi affetti miseri e terreni.

Poems Not Included in the 1554 Anthology né sente tutto ’l dí pianti e lamenti o di troppo volere, o poco8 fare! Qui s’odon sol al fin con gran tormenti o querele di figli o di consorte, e mai de l’esser tuo non ti contenti. Infelice colei, ch’a questa sorte chiama la trista sua disaventura, ch’in vita sa che cosa è inferno e morte! Questa è una valle lagrimosa e scura,9 piena d’ortiche e di pungenti spine,10 dove il tuo falso ben passa e non dura. Infelici noi povere e meschine, serve di vanitá, figlie del mondo, lontane, aimè,11 da l’opre alte e divine! Altre per far il crin piú crespo e biondo provan ogn’arte e trovan mille ingegni, onde van de l’abisso l’alme al fondo. Infelice quell’altra move a’ sdegni il marito o l’amante, e s’affatica di tornar grata e far che lei non sdegni. Ad altri più che a se medesma amica, quella con acque forti il viso offende, de la salute sua propria nimica. Infelice colei, che sol attende da mezzo dí, da vespro e da mattina, e tutto ’l giorno a la vaghezza spende; Per parer fresca, bianca e pellegrina dorme senza pensar de la famiglia, e negli empiastri notte e dí s’affina! Infelice quest’altra de la figlia grande, che per voler darle marito, senza quietar giamai, cura si piglia! E, perché al mondo ha perso l’ appetito, non fa se non gridar, teme e sospetta de l’onor suo che non gli sia rapito. Infelice qualunque il frutto aspetta de’ cari figli, e sta con questa speme, lagrimando cosí sempre soletta! Questo l’annoia poi, l’aggrava e preme, che misera da lor vien disprezzata, e di continuo ne sospira e geme.

8. 1738: volere, e poco. 9. 1738: e oscura. 10. 1738: spini. 11. 1738: oimè.

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Appendix A Infelice chi sta sempre arrabbiata, e col consorte suo non ha mai posa, mesta del tutto, afflitta e sconsolata! Tropp’accorta al suo mal, vive gelosa, e col figliuolo suo spesso s’adira, non gusta cibo mai, mai non riposa. Infelice quell’altra, che sospira, ché sa che ’l suo marito poco l’ama, e di mal occhio per mal far la mira! Alcuna in testimonio il cielo chiama, che sa di non aver commesso errore, e pur talor si duol de la sua fama. Infelice via piú chi porta amore, e di vane speranze e van desiri si va pascendo il tormentato core! Altre pene infinite, altri martiri, che narrar non si sanno, il mondo apporta, mill’altre angosce e mill’altri sospiri.12 Felice per seguir piú fida scorta chi elegge di Maria la miglior parte, e si fa viva a Cristo, al mondo morta! Felice chi sue voglie ha vòlte e sparte al sommo Sole, al ben del paradiso, e qui con umiltá pon cura ed arte! A voi convien, che ’l bel leggiadro viso celate sotto puro e bianco velo, avere il cor da uman pensier diviso. Felice voi, che, d’amoroso zelo accesa, v’aggirate al vero Sole, che luce eternamente in terra e ’n cielo! Voi correte qua giú rose e viole, sará del viver vostro il fin beato, ch’altro non è di13 chi tal vita vuole. Felice voi, che avete consacrato i vaghi occhi divini, il bel crin d’oro a chi sí bella al mondo v’ ha creato! È questo il ricco, il caro e bel tesoro, quest’è la preziosa margherita, onde, di palme al fin cinta e d’alloro, vittoria porterete a Cristo unita. Happy in this life, more happy in the next is she who flees—as you’ve done14—before 12. The 1954 edition omits the following tercet, printing next Felice chi . . . 13. 1954: non à di. 14. The “you” is unknown, although it is a woman and one who has fled “this world’s wretchedness” to join a convent.

Poems Not Included in the 1554 Anthology she’s chanced to know this world’s wretchedness, infinite; before inside her heart she’s forced to be perturbed and moved by unexpected sorrows, from which there’s no place to emerge. Happy soul, you’ve thrown off all these sad affections that bind us to the earth, and for these our torments no longer grieve; your days, now calm and full of mirth, are free of anger, wars, and struggling; peace instead reigns, alongside love, and rest. Happy she who makes herself Christ’s handmaiden, dressed in humblest cloth, who never knows the worries of our married lives;15 raising her eyes up to that divine star, far off she leaves that wild and dangerous sea behind, where there’s no breeze without a storm; happy she whom bitter hours never greet, whom the cries of those who want too much, or do too little, never reach; while here, all day by quarreling and torments of children and husbands, we’re besieged, nor with our state are we ever quite content. Unhappy she whom fate calls to sadness, a life that leads one to ask why destiny has taught her all there is to know of hell, and death. This is a dark and tear-filled valley, full of thorns and nettles that distress, and where what’s good is false, and doesn’t last. Unhappy we—small-minded, mean, prey to vanity, daughters of the world, and far, alas, from all that’s lofty and divine. Some to make their hair seem blonde and full of curls will try every art, and a thousand schemes, which can only take them to the netherworld. Unhappy that woman who moves to disdain her husband or lover, then does all she can to be grateful, so he won’t complain. Always trying to please others, she’s no friend to herself, pouring bleach on her face and jeopardizing her health in the end. Unhappy she whose attentions are turned at vespers, at dawn, and all through the day to the ways that she might her pleasures earn; to appear young and fresh, beautiful and gay, she sleeps on without thinking of those around her, 15. Does the “nostri martiali affanni” suggest that the author is herself married—and thus perhaps not Stampa?

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Appendix A and refines herself with ointments night and day. Unhappy the woman who spends endless time on the daughter still without a husband, and her worries are without respite. And she does nothing but cry out and complain since for the world she’s lost all appetite, concerned that her honor might be lost in vain. Unhappy the woman who awaits the fruit of dear children, and lives in hope, yet is always weeping since she’s so alone; this so troubles and oppresses that, wretched, she finds herself scorned and continually sighs and laments. Unhappy she who’s perennially enraged and with her husband is never at peace, and she’s mournful, sad, and desolate, too mindful of what eats her—jealousy— and loses patience with her son, and never tastes food, and never finds rest. Unhappy this woman who all day sighs because she knows her husband’s love is gone while he watches her, askance, with guilty eyes. Here’s another woman who calls on heaven because her reputation’s compromised, and yet she has never done any wrong. Unhappy she whose love finds no place to rest, and who feeds her heart—tortured— with hopes that are empty and desires vain. Infinite troubles, infinite sorrows, so many they can never all be named, this world brings, with thousands of torments and sighs. Happy you who follow a more faithful guide, choosing Mary’s as the better part,16 and make yourself alive for Christ, and to the world die! Happy those who have turned their thoughts to the highest sun, to the blessings of paradise, and to humility turn their care and art. It’s only fitting that your face, so comely, hides now behind a pure, white veil, and your heart’s divided from all that’s secular. And happy you, who burn with amorous zeal as you turn to face that one true sun whose light on earth and heaven is eternal. Here below you gather violets and roses, 16. That is, the contemplative life represented by Mary in Luke 10 and opposed to Martha’s active life.

Poems Not Included in the 1554 Anthology the end of your days will be a blessed one, as befits all those who have chosen your life. Happy you, whose eyes look on all things divine and whose hair of gold is dedicated to Him who made all beauty. This is the richest, dearest treasure— to be crowned with palm and laurel leaves; this is the pearl that is most precious— to be united to Christ in victory.

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APPENDIX B P O E M S T O S TA M PA F R O M P O E T S SHE ADDRESSES IN THE RIME

The following poem by Ippolita Mirtilla, written upon Stampa’s death, first appeared in the Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne, raccolte per M. Lodovico Domenichi, published in Lucca by Vincenzo Busdragho in 1559, f. 83, along with eight other poems by Mirtilla. It is published in the front matter of the 1738 edition, as “Rime di poeti antichi. In lode di Gaspara Stampa,” and in the “Rime di diversi” of the 1913 edition. Stampa’s poem to “Mirtilla,” most likely Ippolita, is the capitolo 291. This text follows the 1559 edition. O sola qui tra noi del ciel fenice, Ch’alzata a volo il secol nostro oscura, Et sovra lali1 al ciel passi2 sicura; Si ch’a vederla3 a pena homai ne lice. O sola a gliocchi4 miei vera beatrice, In cui si mostra, quanto sa’ natura: Bellezza immaculata, & vista pura, Da far con picciol cenno ogni huom felice. In Voi si5 mostra, quel che non comprende Altro intelletto al mondo, se no ’l mio, Ch’ Amor tanto alto il leva, quanto v’ama. In voi si mostra, quanto anchor s’accende L’anima gloriosa nel desio, Che per elettione a Dio la chiama.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

1738: l’ ali; 1913, 1954: l’ali. 1738: passa. 1738: Sicchè vederla. 1738, 1913: agli occhi. 1738: in cui si. 1738: v’ anta.

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Appendix B O solitary phoenix who came to us from heaven, darkening our age with her flight as she winged herself surely back to heaven, so that now we’re deprived of her sight; O bearer alone of true blessings to my eyes, in whom nature shows us all she knows, rendering beauty immaculate; one glimpse, the slightest sign from her made a man content. And what’s seen there can’t be fathomed by any intelligence in the world, save mine, for love raises it as high as my love for you. In you we see how strongly enflamed is that soul made glorious by desire, whom God has elected as his own. The following poem by Leonardo Emo was written to Stampa while she was alive. Her 253 is a response; both sonnets use identical words as end rhymes. Emo clearly wrote his poem first, insofar as Stampa expresses her joy that she has now found “lodging” (a stanza) in his memory—presumably because of this verse. Emo’s poem first appeared in the 1554 volume among the dedicatory verses to Stampa on p. 177 (f. Mi). It is published in the front matter of the 1738 edition, as “Rime di poeti antichi. In lode di Gaspara Stampa,” and in the “Rime di diversi” of the 1913 edition. The following is the 1554 version. Qual sacro ingegno, ò’n prosa sciolta, ò’n rima, Con dir’ alto, e leggiadro, studio, & arte Dirà di vostre lodi una sol parte, Di voi Donna lodata in ogni Clima? Altra non fu mai tal, se’l ver s’estima, Che voi pareggi; onde Natura ha sparte Tutte sue gratie, e le virtù comparte, Per farvi de le belle hoggi la prima. E come’l Sol, ch’ogn’altra luce avanza; E da noi scaccia l’ombre, e apporta’l lume, Così’l vostro valor mostrate in nui. Amor, che ne’ vostr’ occhi ha la sua stanza, Mi fece al cor l’usato suo costume, Per farmi à voi soggetto, e non d’altrui. What blessed genius in lofty tones unleashed in rhyme or prose with a little study and art could speak of your praises even a part, lady, when you’re praised in every clime? There’s never been another—if truth can be believed— who is your equal; thus nature’s scattered all her graces, and the virtues compete to make you first among their beauties.

Poems to Stampa from Poets She Addresses in the Rime And like the sun that outshines every light and chases forth all shadows, so is your worth revealed in us. Love, who gains its dwelling in your eyes, has taken my heart with his usual custom to make me subject to you, and to none other.

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APPENDIX C CONCORDANCE

In his 1913 edition of the Rime, Abdelkader Salza dramatically rearranges the sequence of poems after number 192, and his numeration has stuck, to some extent, in modern citations. For reference, here follows a table of Salza’s numbers against the original sequence presented in this volume. Sequence of 1913 and subsequent editions 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216

Sequence of 1554 and present edition 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 283 284 285 205 206 211 212 218 213 214 215 207 208

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Appendix C Sequence of 1913 and subsequent editions 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261

Sequence of 1554 and present edition 209 210 216 217 219 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 303 300 301 302 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 286 287 288 289 290 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 235 236 238 237 260 239 240 241

Concordance Sequence of 1913 and subsequent editions 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306

Sequence of 1554 and present edition 242 [See appendix A] 244 245 246 247 251 263 264 248 249 250 252 253 254 257 255 256 258 259 274 193 261 262 234 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 291 220 [see appendix A] 229 230 231 232 233 275 276 277

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Appendix C Sequence of 1913 and subsequent editions 307 308 309 310 311

Sequence of 1554 and present edition 279 280 281 282 278

NOTES

The following notes refer to both the Italian and English texts. Those to the Italian list variants and offer typographical and linguistic observations. For all interpretive and illustrative notes, readers are invited to follow the numbering of the English translation. T HE RIME

1.

The 1913 expands the abbreviation with REVERENDISSIMO.

2.

1738: mia a me molto cara, e da me molto.

3.

1738: speranze, e tutte.

4.

1738: perduto una così valorosa.

5.

1738: fatte.

6. The 1738 expands the abbreviation with Reverendissima, the 1913 with reverendissima. 7.

1738: splende.

8. Giovanni della Casa (1503–56), archbishop of Benevento and papal nuncio to Venice, was one of the sixteenth century’s finest poets. 9. Plinio Pietrasanta brought the volume out in October, six months after Gaspara’s death in April, possibly with the help of Giorgio Benzone. See volume editor’s introduction. 10. Della Casa spent several years in the early 1550s in retirement in the hills of the Trevigiana, where the Collalto family had feudal holdings. 11. The grave is very clear in the 1554, but perhaps si trovino, as is given in the 1738 and 1913, makes more sense. 12.

1738: denno.

13.

The 1913 places the text from oltra che è signore to navigano in parentheses.

14.

1913: d’Italia, ed a lei destinate.

15.

The 1738 and 1913 give qualunque.

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Notes to Pages 56–61 16.

1738: al.

17.

1738: Di Venezia a.

18. The 1738 edition specifies LETTERA DI GASPARA STAMPA, AL CONTE COLLALTIN DI COLLALTO. 19. Unlike in the previous letter, no subsequent edition expands these abbreviations for Vostra Signoria. 20.

1738: pietoso.

21.

1738: parola: mi.

22.

1738, 1913, 1954: allegrarla.

23.

1738: conghietturerà.

24.

1954: delle.

25.

Florence.

26.

Collaltino di Collalto.

27. It’s unclear to what letters Stampa may have been referring. Perhaps she means the several capitoli that along with the madrigals end the volume—in one instance she refers to a capitolo as “lettera amica,” or friendly letter that she dictates and sends to Collaltino when he is in France (288). 28. I’ve chosen to translate the later editorial revision “allegrarla” (rejoice, but also to congratulate oneself) as opposed to the original “allegarla” (to allege), which seems an error. 29.

1738: rinfreschi.

30.

1738: rasserenar un.

31.

1954: speranze; e ti.

32.

1738: miei tormenti.

33.

The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions mark these last five lines as dialogue.

34. Anassilla is the pen name that Stampa used, from the river Anasso (the Piave) that ran through the estates of Collaltino. 35. For the reference to a future reader, see the first lines of Petrarch’s opening sonnet of the Rerum vulgarium fragmenta [RVF]: “Voi ch’ascoltate in rime sparse il suono / di quei sospiri ond’io nudriva ’l core” (You who hear in scattered rhymes the sound of those sighs with which I nourished my heart); there may also be an allusion to the opening sonnet from Pietro Bembo’s 1530 Rime. See volume editor’s introduction. 36. See here the allusion to Petrarch, Triumphus Cupidinis 4.25–26, in which the poet refers to Sappho’s parity with famous male poets: “Una giovene greca a paro a paro / coi nobili poeti iva cantando” (a young Greek girl went singing alongside the noblest of poets). 37.

The 1738 edition preserves the 1554 erratum miri.

38. An allusion to Christmas. Petrarch first saw Laura on Good Friday; Stampa likewise chooses to locate her earliest encounter with her beloved within the liturgical calendar. This feast day will be recalled in 211.1–4. 39.

Collaltino di Collalto, Stampa’s beloved, frequently referred to as “Signore”

Notes to Pages 61–70 or lord; the term is played here and elsewhere against the other “Signore,” who is Christ. 40. An allusion to Hesiod, the eighth-century BCE Greek poet and author of the Theogony and Works and Days. The former poem opens with the poet’s account that one day while tending his father’s herds on Mount Ascrea, the Muses inspired him to sing of the origin of the gods. 41. The first of Stampa’s puns on the name of Collaltino di Collalto; cf. also 10.1, 46.1, 138.2, 139.2, 273.4, and 277.5. For other parings of basso and vile, cf. 148.10, 242.5, and 265.3. 42.

1962: assomiglio.

43.

Diana is the goddess of the moon, known for her chastity.

44. Apollo, son of Zeus and Leto, is the god of music, often depicted as holding a lyre. 45. Stampa will often describe mental inconstancy in spatial terms: cf. 79.6, 136.11, 164.10, 167.1, and 191.8. For stanza, a room but also the poetic unit, cf. 38.9, 90.11, 105.14, 121.4, 134.10, 183.6, 252.11 and 253.12. 46.

1738, 1954, 1962: sembiante.

47.

1738: saldo.

48.

1954: pentite.

49.

1738: lungo al mio stile e all’ altrui.

50. The first direct address to Collaltino; generally addressed as the formal “voi” with several notable exceptions. 51. Helicon, in Boeotia, was the mountain sacred to the Muses; Parnassus, a mountain near Delphi, was associated with both the Muses and Apollo. “Alto colle” is a play on Collaltino’s name that will be continued throughout the sequence; cf. note to 3. 52. The verb spronare, especially governed by Amore, is quite common in Petrarch; for writing as the result of such “spurring,” cf. RVF 127.1 and 173.8, and Stampa’s 147.13, 228.1–2, and 239.5. 53. Rivers in France, where Collaltino has been fighting under Henri II. 54. The reference is to a genealogical tree; the two branches are Collaltino and his brother Vinciguerra II. 55.

1913 edition puts vv. 7–8 in parentheses.

56.

1738: Al tronco ed a.

57.

1738: penna.

58.

Famous Roman soldiers in the Second Punic War against Carthage.

59. “Adria” will often refer to the city of Venice, although here it seems to indicate the Adriatic Sea. 60. This Venetian variation mezo, for the Tuscan mezzo, is used exclusively in the 1554 edition and recurs in 18.8, 42.10, 53.9, 153.10, 197.8, 216.2, 219.1, 260.6, and 291.58; it is not maintained by either the 1738, 1913, or 1954.

367

368

Notes to Pages 70–81 61.

1954: alla.

62. The “souls” are other poets, the hill probably Parnassus, the mountain sacred to the Muses. 63. Stampa’s considerable use of this elided, unpunctuated i for the first person pronoun io—three instances are in sonnet 43 alone (vv. 3, 4, 11)—disappears after 97.9, perhaps suggesting a later grammatical purification; cf. also 28.2, 37.13, 39.8, 54.12, 61.12,68.14, and 81.12. 64.

1738: Mi sembra.

65. Stampa is skilled at echoing her beloved conte (count) when speaking about the physical act of writing: for the adjective conto, cf. 50.8, 145.10, 227.7–9, and 266.2; for the noun conto, cf. 197.9; the adjective contese, 225.12 and 299.12; the verb contare, cf. 29.1, 110.1, 119.12, 184.3, and 291.42; raccontare, 19.10 and 114.7. 66. 1738: Quanta l’ erba che il Sol pinge e colora; 1913, 1954: . . . che pinge il sol ancora. “Piange” here certainly seems to be a mistake, as the translation reflects. See also 58 for a similar typographical confusion. 67.

1738: vedrebbe, e un.

68.

For Stampa’s plays with conte and contare, see note to 16.

69. “Occhio cervero” is in Petrarch, RVF 238: “Real natura, angelico intelletto, / chiara alma, pronta vista, occhio cerviero” (A regal nature, an angelic intellect, a bright soul, ready sight, lynxlike eye). The lynx was known for its acute eyesight. 70. The 1954 edition places this verse as 9, rearranging the center stanzas as: come a / e darti / per via // Ti bisogna / quel saldo / che ti / non ti //. 71.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set these first eleven lines off as dialogue.

72.

Love or Cupid is speaking.

73. 1738: e i sdegni; 1913, 1954: e’ sdegni. The 1554 edition suggests an apostrophe was intended. 74. For other uses of the schiera as metaphor, cf. 55.5, 62.5, 65.10, 229.32, 231.13, 251.2, 263.1–2, 285.10, and 289.29; cf. especially 102.10–11, “Poi che seco una schiera di diletti / A` star meco il mio Sol’ almo rimena.” 75.

For other iterations of these conjugations, cf. the following sonnet.

76. The 1913 and 1954 editions set off these first eight lines, excluding dico ad Amor talora, as dialogue. 77.

1738: nuova arte, con.

78. The 1913 and 1954 editions put vv. 3–4 in parentheses. 79.

1738: Tanto; 1913, 1954: tanto.

80.

1738: Quanto a me son.

81. Though this grouping of verbs and tenses is surely Petrarchan (RVF 229.1, “Cantai, or piango, [I sang, now I weep]; 230.1, “I’ piansi, or canto” [I wept, now I sing]; 344.12, “Piansi et cantai: non so più mutar verso” [I wept and sing; I cannot change my style]), see also the incipit to Remigio Nannini’s 1547 Rime 18, “Arsi, pi-

Notes to Pages 81–91 ansi, e cantai, or piango et ardo” (I burned, I wept, I sang; now I weep and burn). For other iterations in Stampa, cf. 25.4, 68.50, 139.10 and 218.12. 82. The poem was surely influenced by Domenico Venier’s “Non punse, arse o legò, stral, fiamma o laccio.” See Feldman, City Culture, 94–95. 83.

1738: starvi.

84. This may be a reference to Sappho’s well-known ode (fragment 31), “He seems as fortunate as the gods to me, the man who sits opposite you and listens nearby to your sweet voice and lovely laughter. . . . when I look at you for a moment, then it is no longer possible for me to speak; my tongue has snapped, at once a subtle fire has stolen beneath my flesh.” It was first published in 1554 by Francesco Robortello in his Greek edition of pseudo-Longinus’s treatise on the sublime (see volume editor’s introduction). Catullus 51 (“Ille mi par esse deo videtur” [He seems to me to be equal to a god]) is the more likely source, although Stampa may have known of Robortello’s work before its publication. 85.

For other plays on Conte and words such as contare, cf. note to 16.

86.

1738: Sol una.

87.

The wind that blows from the east, or the “Euro.”

88. Orpheus is the mythical singer who could civilize the beasts by calming them with music. Cf. Domenico Venier’s sonnet 98 dedicated to Gaspar Fiorino, whose “graditi accenti” (pleasing accents) make him similar to “altri [che] già cantando ebber valore / D’arrestar l’onde” (Rime, p. 68) (others whose singing once had force enough to stop the waves). Apparently, Collaltino sang in addition to writing poetry. 89.

1738: acute, l’ altra qual vivace; 1913, 1954: acute, e qual l’altra vivace.

90. 1738: possa. Also, the 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions close the verse with fuore, preserving the rhyme; that the original should read fuori is notable, as the variants fore and fora are used throughout the collection. Cf. also 44 and 46. 91.

Collaltino’s eyes.

92. Venus is Cupid’s mother. The poem answers the questions Stampa poses in the sonnet to Jacopo Bonetto (appendix A) about the iconography of Love. 93.

1738, 1913, 1954: scolpita

94.

1738: queste.

95. Stampa is addressing Collaltino’s estates in the Veneto. The river is the Piave or Anasso, from the Latin Anaxos, from which she draws her poetic name of Anassilla. 96. Caesar may be either Julius or Augustus; Cyrus is the famous sixth-century BCE king of the Persians. 97.

1738, 1913, 1954: tanti.

98.

1738: vie.

99.

1738: e che mi. For other uses of i for io, cf. note to 18.

100.

1738: del.

101. Cf. della Casa’s poem, “L’altero nido, ov’io sì lieto albergo” (Rime 35: the proud

369

370

Notes to Pages 91–97 nest, where I gladly stay); the “proud nest” is Venice, della Casa’s adoptive home throughout the 1540s. Stampa uses the nest to refer to Collaltino’s birthplace. 102.

For other uses of stanza/stanzare, cf. note to 5.

103.

1738: che in parte.

104.

1738: anche.

105.

1738: non è.

106.

1738: stringe.

107.

1738: stanca, voi.

108. If 31 suggests that Collaltino was a singer, this poem makes a poet of him. He did write occasional poems, eleven of which were published in the 1738 volume of Stampa’s verse. 109.

The Adriatic.

110. Eolus was the god of the winds, who controls “Austrus” and “Aquilone” as well as the others. 111. One might wonder if this is a second love—and thus if it’s a sonnet about Collaltino (suggesting there was a beloved before him), or someone else. 112. For other such uses of (di)sfarsi, cf. also 48.12, 68.26, 118.14, 156.4, 181.13, and 310.16. 113.

Athlete of Croton, a man of enormous strength.

114. An apostrophe before this semicolon in the 1554 edition would suggest the highly unlikely reading mutar lei; no subsequent edition keeps it. 115.

1913, 1954: e son. For other uses of i for io, cf. note to 18.

116.

1738: strano.

117.

Venus, who now lodges in Collaltino’s eyes.

118. A possible revision of Catullus 85, “Odio et amo” (I hate and love); see Spiller (Development of the Sonnet, 69–70). One might also consider an allusion to the enchanted fountains of chivalric literature as found in Boiardo and Ariosto. 119. The 1738 edition gives d’ umori; the 1913 and 1954 editions d’umori. All three give fuori in v. 8. Cf. 34 and 46 for a similar irregularity. 120.

No subsequent edition places any punctuation here.

121.

1738: È; 1913, 1954: è.

122. The word fuori and its variants seem to pose a particular problem at the ends of verses: here the 1738 reads fuori, the 1913 and 1954 fòri. Cf. 34 and 44. 123. The sonnet has a sestina-like effect in its frequent repetition of several key words (“fiamma,” “pianto”); there is also a great deal of internal rhyme (“accese e vive fiamme,” “vago e gratioso,” “occhi dolenti,” “spietata e ria,” “descrivo e canto,” “tanto . . . pianto”). 124. A possible echo of RVF 365, the palinodic “I’ vo piangendo i miei passati tempi” (I go weeping for my past time), the penultimate sonnet of the Canzoniere—

Notes to Pages 97–104 although RVF 74.12–13 may be relevant as well, in which Petrarch refers to “le carte / ch’i’ vo empiendo di voi” (the pages that I fill with words of you). 125.

Cf. 236.6: “d’ogni virtù nido, e sostegno.”

126. Another play on the name of Collaltino di Collalto; cf. 3.8, 138.2, 139.2, 273.4, and 277.5, as well as 10, which similarly opens with “Alto Colle, gradito, e gratioso.” 127.

1738: Serena tu la fronte.

128.

The 1738 edition closes this line with a question mark.

129.

1738: dell’ aspettare.

130.

Flora is the goddess of the spring, Pomona of the autumn harvest.

131. Cf. Petrarch, RVF 96.1: “Io son de l’aspectar omai sí vinto” (I am so vanquished by waiting). 132. Swans were sacred to the god Phoebus (Apollo) because of their song; the Meander is a river in Lidia, home to many swans. Legend has it that the swan’s dying song is its sweetest. 133.

Olere is a Latinism for swan.

134. Cf. Petrarch, RVF 56 (“Se col cieco desir”), v. 8, “tra la spiga et la man qual muro è messo?” (Between the grain and my hand what wall is set?); in line 11 Petrarch writes of the “gioiosa spene” (joyous hope) that Stampa echoes in the “gioia promessa” in line 3, above. 135. The trope derives from the earliest vernacular amorous poetry; cf. also 162, 217, and 308. 136.

For other plays on Conte and conto, see note to 16.

137. This is the first of three poems published in Girolamo Ruscelli’s 1553 Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori (f. 68v); the other two are 70 and 75. In 1559, Lodovico Domenichi republished all three poems in Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne, pp. 57–58. 138.

Ruscelli: fatti ambedue. Such agreement is given also in v. 11, che m’hai data.

139.

The Ruscelli gives se for fe, and perch’ io here.

140.

Ruscelli: data, e vena.

141. Ruscelli and Domenichi give che quel Sole and queste luci in v. 14 as che’l mio Sole and le mie luci, respectively. 142.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions put the clause e chi . . . in parentheses.

143. Cf. Petrarch, RVF 192.1: “Stiamo, Amor, a veder la gloria nostra” (Let us stay, Love, to see our glory). 144.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions mark the rest of the sonnet as dialogue.

145.

1738: sia il.

146.

1738: code.

147. The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions preserve here and in the next line Ei, the more cogent reading.

371

372

Notes to Pages 105–113 148. “Beatrice” or bearer of blessedness, possibly an allusion to Dante’s beloved and his guide through paradise. Cf. also Petrarch, RVF 366.52: “prego ch’appaghe / il cor, vera beatrice” (I pray you to quiet my heart, O true bringer of happiness). The word is feminine in Italian; hence the final line ends with “ella” rather than “lui.” 149. Stampa addresses herself to contemporary artists, in the same way that Petrarch wrote sonnets to Simone Martini about portraying Laura; cf. RVF 77–78. 150. Adam, the first man made by God (“First Care”). 151. In what will be the first panel of a diptych, the second of which is described in the following sonnet. 152.

The 1913 and 1954 editions close this verse with a question mark.

153.

Reference to the other panel of the diptych or double portrait.

154. For other uses of the noun, always capitalized in the 1554 edition, cf. 72.5, 229.66, and 232.11; cf. also Vittoria Colonna’s Rime amorose 9.14, “l’alma ancor sua tramontana scorge” (the soul still discerns its northern star). This and future citations of Colonna are from Rime edited by Alan Bullock.. 155.

Michelangelo and Titian, the latter a Venetian.

156.

The 1913 and 1954 editions close this verse with a question mark.

157. 1738, 1913, 1954: pinger, undoubtedly the correct reading, as Stampa plays with the closeness between pianger and pingere (to paint). Cf. also 18. 158.

1738: l’ altro; 1913, 1954: l’altro.

159. Lisippus was a famous Greek sculptor; Apelles was considered the greatest of Greek painters. Both were associated with the court of Alexander the Great. 160. Cf. Niccolò da Correggio’s Rime 189.1–2, a sonnet in praise of Leonardo da Vinci: “Lisippo, Percotile o Apelle / che avuto avesse a ritrar questa in carte” (Had Lisippus, Percotile, or Apelles happened to draw this on paper). 161. This is the first of the sonnets to take up the oft-mentioned theme of Collaltino’s departure from Venice. 162.

1738, 1913, 1954, 1962: Questa e quella.

163. Stampa invokes the Petrarchan catalogue of RVF 218.9–10, “Come Natura [ritollesse] al ciel la luna e’l sole, / a l’aere i vènti, a la terra herbe et fronde” (As if Nature were to take away the sun and the moon from the heavens, the winds from the air, from the earth grass and leaves), and 303.5, “fior’, frondi, herbe, ombre antri, onde, aure soavi” (flowers, leaves, grass, shadows, caves, waves, gentle breezes). 164. Stampa’s mother and sister, Cassandra; one might suggest a possible reference to the Aeneid 4, in which Dido refuses to tell her sister Anna that she is taking her life. 165.

Of France.

166. Mars is the god of war; Collaltino has presumably gone off to France where he is fighting for Henri II against the English. 167. Literally, “ivory” (teeth) and “purple or ruddy” (cheeks); there may also be the

Notes to Pages 113–120 sense here of “luster,” as an aspect of both Collaltino’s physical bearing and the glory he has won. For Stampa’s combination of avorio and ostro, cf. also 117.5 and 246.1. 168. A metaphorical allusion to Collaltino’s attaining of glory through warfare; it may also refer to Parnassus. 169. Perhaps an allusion to the pillars of Hercules or the straits of Gibraltar, beyond which sailors traditionally were not allowed to go; or, as the Latin phrase would have it, “ne plus ultra.” 170.

1738, 1913, 1954: del.

171.

1738: a che.

172. The 1913 edition divides the second and third stanzas after fra poche ore, setting them as a terzina and a quatrain, respectively. 173. This sonnet echoes the sentiments of the opening dedication to Collaltino, with which it may be contemporary. It is thus not surprising that it is also the first explicit mention of the poet’s person Anassilla invoked in the dedication. 174. Cf. the first sonnet: “In questi mesti, in questi oscuri accenti.” 175. Some irony is intended here: Collaltino is more faithful to a foreign king than he is to Stampa. 176.

1738: d’ intorno.

177. One may note the almost stubborn absence of a definite article before Aure, a clever variation on the recurring pun by which Petrarch elides an article l’ into almost every aur-phoneme in his canzoniere to suggest the name of his beloved Laura. For other unelided aure in Stampa, cf. 108.7, 145.7, 220.51, and 289.28. 178. The first canzone in the collection, modeled in part on Petrarch’s RVF 126, which opens “Chiare, fresche et dolci acque / ove le belle membra / pose colei che sola a me par donna” (Clear, fresh, sweet waters, where she who alone seems lady to me rested her lovely body) and goes on to address—as does Stampa’s —other aspects of the landscape. Petrarch is surrounded by countryside, Stampa by the sea. 179.

The Adriatic.

180.

1738, 1913, 1954: fe’.

181.

1738: del.

182. For other uses of lai, cf. note to 289; for the Petrarchan verbs ardere and cantare, cf. note to 25. 183.

1738, 1913, 1954: vostri.

184.

1738, 1913, 1954: ha.

185. Published in Ruscelli’s 1553 anthology Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, f. 69r, and in Domenichi’s 1559 Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne, p. 57. 186.

Ruscelli: Sì piange, sì dispera, e sì desia.

187.

Domenichi: per più non soffrir.

188.

Ruscelli: li.

373

374

Notes to Pages 121–129 189. For a similar envoy, see the close of Petrarch, RVF 126: “Se tu avessi ornamenti quant’ài voglia, / poresti arditamente / uscir del bosco et gir infra la gente” (If you had as many beauties as you have desire, you could boldly leave the wood and go among people; vv. 66–68). 190. A French word for a poetic complaint, appropriate given Collaltino’s residence in France; cf. 68.52 and 289.20. 191.

For the ponno-donno-sonno scheme, cf. 153.

192.

1738: ritorna.

193.

1738: mostra i crin.

194.

References to the seasons of winter and summer, respectively.

195. Cf. Giraldi Cinzio, Fiamme 1.12.5–6: “pensier i remi, vela è lo mio core, / sospiri i venti” (my thoughts are oars, my heart a sail, my sighs the breeze). The metaphor of love’s navigating through the seas is common to a number of contemporary writers, including Tansillo, Ariosto, and Colonna; it is also found in Petrarch. 196. Cf. the similar exclamations in 113.1, “Deh foss’io almen sicura,” and 196.9, “Deh foss’ io certa almen.” 197.

1738: Che.

198. Published in Ruscelli’s 1553 Il sesto libro delle rime ime di diversi eccellenti autori, f. 69r, and Domenichi, Rime diverse, p. 58. 199.

Ruscelli: Amor, prima ch’io.

200.

Ruscelli: che da lontan.

201.

Ruscelli: veggio, ò ciò.

202.

Domenichi: Appresso.

203.

Ruscelli, Domenichi: Sento ben, che’l un’incendio.

204. Mount Etna is a volcano in eastern Sicily; Troy was burned to the ground by the Greeks. 205. The expression recurs in 134.5 and 198.1. Cf. Petrarch’s RVF 76.1, “chi ’l crederà perché giurando i’ ’l dica?” (who will believe, though I swear it) and Battiferra, Primo libro delle opere toscane, sonnet 25.9–12: “Ch’il crederà che dall’aspro tormento / venga la gioia, . . . / Chi crederà, che morta la speranza, / viva il desio?” (who will believe that from bitter torment comes joy . . . Who will believe that with hope dead, desire survives?). 206.

Ruscelli, Domenichi: affina.

207.

1738: E questo è quel.

208.

1738: sua.

209.

1738, 1913, 1954: interna.

210.

Cf. 145.1: “dolci colli ameni.”

211. The trope of the lead and golden arrows goes back at least to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, in which Cupid shoots Apollo with his golden arrow and Daphne with his lead one: the latter “puts to flight, the other kindles the flame of love” (1.469-71). Here Stampa asks Cupid to make Collaltino impervious to the love of French women.

Notes to Pages 129–136 212.

Possible reference to Cupid; the 1954 edition suggests that it is God.

213. Both examples of faithful wives: Evadne threw herself onto the pyre that burned her husband Capaneus’s body; Penelope refused the attention of the suitors during the twenty years Odysseus was away from Ithaca. 214.

1738: sfavilla.

215.

1962: mirare.

216. All known for acts of cruelty and bloody vengeance: Nero was emperor of Rome, Mezentius king of the Etruscans (as recounted in the Aeneid), Marius Roman consul in the first century BCE, and Sulla became consul when Marius went into exile; Petrarch refers to common belief when he writes that anger made Silla blind and “in the end, it killed him” (“a l’ultimo l’estinse”; RVF 232.8). 217. Cf. Petrarch’s RVF 152.1: “Questa humil fera, un cor di tigre o d’orsa” (This humble wild creature, this tiger’s or she-bear’s heart). 218. Possible reference here and in the opening of the second quatrain to Berni’s Rime 20.1, “Divizio mio, io son dove il mar bagna” (My Divizio, I’m here where the sea bathes [me]). 219. Collaltino is in France, bathed by the Atlantic Ocean, whereas Anassilla is in the Venetian lagoon, where the sea “slacks off” or becomes stagnant. “Vespers” is denoted by the term “la squilla,” the ringing of bells for the last prayers of the day. 220.

1738: converte.

221. 1738: ancor, e più m’ annoia. The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions put che pi[ù] m’annoia in parentheses. 222.

1954: oltre.

223.

1738: prezioso.

224.

1738: contro.

225. “Tant’oltra” echoes the “ne plus ultra” made famous by the pillars of Hercules: go no further. It may perhaps allude here to a warning against loving above one’s station, or more simply against excessive desire. Also see 64.5: “tant’oltra non passate.” 226.

On “rivers” of eloquence, cf. note to 108.

227.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set the remaining eight verses off as dialogue.

228.

1738: il mio Signor crudo.

229.

1738: empio e inumano.

230.

1738: Dite.

231.

1962: l’infelice fidissima.

232.

The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions set these last three verses off as dialogue.

233.

For a similar opening, cf. note to 151.

234.

This line is set as dialogue in the 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions.

235.

1738: del.

236. The original apostrophe, perhaps intending me ne pento instead of meno pento, is not kept by the 1738, 1913, or 1954 edition.

375

376

Notes to Pages 136–146 237.

1738: se fui.

238.

The 1738 edition preserves the 1554 erratum Tu m’ imbevesti col tuo.

239.

1954: sfuggo.

240.

For other instances of this almost legalistic phrase, cf. 120.14 and 204.13.

241. See Domenico Venier’s sonnet “Ahi chi mi rompe il sonno?” (Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, p. 129v), in the same Ruscelli volume where three of Stampa’s poems are published. 242. Drinking the waters of Lethe ensures forgetfulness. Cf. also 198.13, “Tu le speranze mie recidi, e sterpi,” an action also ascribed to Love. 243. Hence from the east (Bactria is in Persia) to the west (Thule was another name for Iceland). The distance for Stampa is always tinged with poetic fame; cf. 242.1 and 268.13. 244. A similar equation is Matteo Bandello’s; cf. his Rime 46.1, “Non è martir ugual al mio martir” (no suffering is equal to my suffering). 245. The 1913, 1954, and, less clearly, the 1738 editions denote Io pur vengo and non viene as dialogue. 246. This and 93 are derived from the Aeneid. In 4.441–49 Aeneas is compared to an oak beaten by Alpine winds, but holds fast in the midst of Dido’s pleas that he remain in Carthage: “Ac velut annoso validam cum robore quercum / Alpini Boreae nunc hinc nunc flatibus illinc / eruere inter se certant” (Even as when northern Alpine winds, blowing now hence, now thence, emulously strive to uproot an oak strong with the strength of years). 247. Among other texts, see Petrarch’s “una cerva errante et fugitiva” (a wandering, fleeing doe; RVF 212.7) and Chiara Matraini’s “Fera son io di questo ombroso loco” (A wild beast am I of this shady place; sonnet A35). Moreover see Aeneid 4.69–73 in which Dido is compared to a hind or cerva in the woods struck by an unwitting shepherd’s dart. Stampa will turn Virgil’s pastore into a fierce hunter. 248. For dittany’s healing powers, see the Aeneid 12.412–15 and della Casa’s Rime 57.4: “et non di Creta et d’Ida / Dittamo” (not the dittany of Crete, or Mount Ida). 249. Victorious generals frequently returned to their city leading a triumphal procession, with slaves and booty displayed on carriages. 250.

The poem is the first of two sestinas in the collection (108 is the second).

251.

1738, 1913, 1954: Ne vada.

252.

1954: vede chiaro.

253.

Bellona is the Roman goddess of war.

254. In Petrarch’s RVF 294, Love and the narrator’s soul together “devrian de la pietà romper un sasso” (ought to wring tears from a stone) out of their grief for Laura’s death—a death invoked proleptically in Stampa as she imagines her count in the midst of battle. 255. The cadence recalls Ariosto’s famous “Oh gran bontà de’ cavallieri antiqui” (Great was the goodness of the knights of old; Orlando furioso 1.22.1). 256.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions give fioria, preserving the rhyme.

Notes to Pages 146–153 257.

1738: A trarmi; 1913, 1954: a trarmi.

258. Hence, the competing claims of love and war. The king that Collaltino follows is Henri II. 259. The garden of the Hesperides (“Hesperij”) was located in the West, beyond the Atlas mountains; the Aeolian Islands are just off the northeastern coast of Sicily. 260. See the opening of Petrarch, RVF 254, “I’ pur ascolto, et non odo novella / de la dolce et amata mia nemica” (I still listen, and I hear no news of my sweet and beloved enemy), in which Petrarch worries that Laura has died. 261.

For this poetic inquiry, cf. note to 253.

262. The final line of the sonnet in Italian (and in the English translation) “overflows” in the sense that it contains an extra foot (14 syllables rather than 12). 263.

1738: duce.

264.

Scenes of great battles between the Romans and Carthaginians.

265. Note the unusual repetition of the same word at the end of two lines: “diletti.” Cf. also 24.10–11, “la schiera de’ diletti, / Ch’Amor, la sua mercè, mi fà sentire.” 266. Consider this last tercet against Venier’s sonnet 43 to the deceased Gabriel Trifone (to whom Stampa also has a sonnet): “Chi nel dubbio cammin di questa vita / Ne fu guida gran tempo, e fermo duce” (For a long time he was the guide and strong leader of those who travel this life in uncertainty; Rime, p. 22). If in Venier the Christian angle is uppermost, Stampa is led to heaven by her lover’s eyes. 267. Here and in “notte candida” in v. 13, Propertius is a likely source (Elegies 2.15.1: “O me felicem! nox o mihi candida” [O happy me! O night that shone for me!]), perhaps as vulgarized by Ariosto in his Rime 8.1–2, “O più che ’l giorno a me lucida e chiara, / dolce, gioconda, aventurosa notte” (O sweet, happy and eventful night, more clear and bright than day to me). 268. Zeus, smitten with the beautiful Alcmene, daughter of the king of Mycenae, disguised himself as her husband Amphitryon; to lengthen their lovemaking, the goddess of the dawn held back the day. Hercules was the product of their union. 269.

1962: de la.

270. The 1738, 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions set off the rest of this verse as dialogue. 271. She imagines a similar inadequacy in 240.5–6: “Che l’ opra e la materia è tanta, e tale, / Et io son sì dal mal vinta, e dal duolo.” 272. The oblique reference is to Mithridates, relentless enemy of Rome; he took antidotes against poison so as to render himself immune to others’ attempts to poison him. Cf. Vittoria Colonna’s Rime amorose disperse 27.9–11: “come quelli a cui fin da le fasce / il velen cibo è stato, e la sua vita / di quel nudrica che tutt’altri offende” (like those who from birth have dined on poison, and who are nurtured on foods harmful to all others). 273.

For stanza, cf. note to 5.

274. This is the first time Stampa addresses Collaltino as tu (the second time is in 178). See Petrarch, RVF 205.8: “Tu sola mi piaci” (You alone please me).

377

378

Notes to Pages 153–163 275.

For the lover as mirror, cf. note to 283.

276.

For other uses of poi/voi for puoi/vuoi, cf. 288.46 and 301.11.

277. Another year will “pass” in 167.12–14, “ò sia falso il mio temere e stolto, / O` resti sciolta al rinovar de l’anno, / O` queti il corpo in bel marmo sepolto”; cf. also the anaphora of Ò in the final stanza here. 278. The construction is Dantesque, if not also reminiscent of Psalm 23 (“The Lord is my shepherd”). Boccaccio’s Filostrato is another possible source, given the amorous referent and use of Stampa’s recurring tramontana: “Tu, donna, se’ la luce chiara e bella / per cui nel tenebroso mondo accorto / vivo; tu se’ la tramontana stella / la quale io seguo per venire a porto” (1.2.1–4) (You, lady, are the clear and beautiful light, through whom I live in this shadowy world; you are the north star that I follow to come into port). For aure, as in the next verse, cf. note to 67. 279. Though Stampa’s figuration of eloquence as a fiume or fonte (in 84.6, 224.8, and 266.6) is common in Dante and Petrarch as well as Stampa’s contemporaries—Girolamo Muzio (in a sonnet to Tullia d’Aragona), Benedetto Varchi, Veronica Franco— her image of a sea of eloquence here, further incorporating the Venetian landscape, seems to be original. 280. Like 28, this poem may have been influenced by Sappho 31 (or Catullus’s version in 51). 281.

1962: Io rimiro.

282.

For similar questions, cf. note to 75.

283. In addition to Petrarch, RVF 145.1–2 (“Ponmi ove ’l sole occide i fiori et l’erba / o dove vince lui il ghiaccio et la neve” [Place me where the sun kills the flowers and the grass, or where the ice and the snow overcome him]), see also Horace, Odes 1.17. 284. The Don or ancient Tanus River marks the border between Europe and Asia. The Ganges in India has supposedly miraculous properties. 285.

1738, 1913, 1954: che.

286.

1913, 1954: l’istoria.

287.

A similar exclamation opens 73.

288. Petrarch; the Sorgue is a river in Provence, the Monginevro (Gebenna) on the border between Italy and France. 289.

Cf. note to 16 for other plays on conte.

290. One of the few explicit references to the “turn” or “volta” of the Petrarchan sonnet, which tends to occur in the first line of the first tercet. The magnitude of the recognition contained in this line—Stampa will now devote her verses to writing not about Collaltino but about herself—is accentuated by the expressive “Però mi volgo.” 291. Another allusion to Collaltino’s writing. Here, in contrast to 114, Stampa asks the count to turn (“Rivolgete”) himself to his own worth. 292.

The “great king” is Henri II, the foreign land France. Alexander the Great,

Notes to Pages 163–173 Aristotle’s pupil and admirer of Homer, extended the Hellenistic Empire into Persia and India. 293.

1954: Bastan.

294.

No subsequent edition retains the grave accent.

295. Literally, the “ivory and the purple,” the latter the color of empire; for other uses, cf. 63.7 and 246.1. 296. Venus, said to have landed on the island of Cythera after her birth in the sea. 297.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions set these last two verses as dialogue.

298.

1738: core è bello.

299.

The 1738 edition gives the verse as Come se meco. . . .

300.

1738: potria.

301.

For the pun on Conte, cf. note to 16.

302.

For the almost legalistic phrase, cf. 88.

303. Cf. the opening of one of Venier’s laudatory sonnets on the cohabitation of beauty, virtue, and courtesy in a single “albergo” or place of rest; Ruscelli, Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, f. 132r. For stanza, cf. note to 5. 304.

This line is set as dialogue in the 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions.

305.

1738: Ogni memoria.

306. The phrase, which probably derives from Petrarch’s RVF (cf. 70.35–37: “Se mortal velo il mio veder appanna, / che colpa è de le stelle, / o de le cose belle?” [If a mortal veil dulls my sight, what fault is it of the stars or of beautiful things?]) and which Vittoria Colonna employs often, recurs in 155.4 and 229.7. 307.

For other uses of Abisso, cf. 153.6, 174.13, and 291.5.

308.

Note the repetition of the closing line of the previous sonnet.

309.

1738: Che ho a far io.

310.

1738: del.

311. The 1913 and 1954 editions set the quatrains as one voice, and the tercets, excluding mi dic’ei, as a second. 312. Luigi Baldacci observes that the poem is beholden to the Neoplatonic tradition that describes the spiritual death of the lover whose love is not reciprocated: “he is dead because he does not live in himself . . . nor does he live in the Beloved, having been rebuffed” (Lirici del Cinquecento, 103). 313. Because of her unrequited passion for Narcissus, Echo lost her physical form to become pure voice. The Chimera is a fabulous monster in which different animals are conjoined; hence Horace’s “triformi . . . Chimaera” (threefold Chimera) of Odes 1.27. 314.

1738, 1913, 1954: il.

315. Stampa is referencing the anaphora of “S’i’ ’l dissi [mai]” (If I [ever] said it) in Petrarch’s RVF 206, and likely using it, the unspecified ’l, to undo her claim from the previous sonnet that she will take another lover. Stampa never departs from the hy-

379

380

Notes to Pages 173–183 pothetical mode that Petrarch resolves with “I’ nol dissi già mai, né dir poria” (I never said it, nor could I say it; v. 46), and even “I’ . . . direi” (I would say; v. 52). 316. The 1738 edition reads loco, which creates an internal visual rhyme with locò in v. 13. The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions also set these final two verses as dialogue. 317. 1738: ond’ haime, Amore, accesa; 1913, 1954: ond’hai me, Amor, accesa. One might also read the line ahime. 318.

Perhaps an echo of the Latin proverb dura lex sed [ita] lex.

319.

1913, 1954, 1962: è.

320.

1913, 1954, 1962: ch’io senta.

321. All subsequent editions set vv. 4–11 as one voice and vv. 12 and 14 as a second. 322. The sonnet is identical to a poem published in 1555 in Francesco Berni’s Secondo libro dell’opere burlesche; see volume editor’s introduction. 323. Midas had the ears of an ass, which he revealed only of necessity to his barber who, compelled to tell the secret, confided it to a hole. The reeds that sprang up sang of Midas’s ears whenever the wind swept through them. 324. Stampa is perhaps referencing one of the typical emblems of Innocenza or Purità as holding a dove. 325.

This Cosi is likely a means of connecting this stanza to the previous.

326.

1738: morire.

327.

1738: ombra; e al.

328.

Venice.

329. The river is the Anasso (Piave) that runs through Collaltino’s estates; the name Anassilla. 330. The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions set vv. 12–13, excluding mi dite, as dialogue. 331.

1738: O se.

332. Note the abrupt change in voice, as Stampa turns to address the count directly; for the “change” of place and mind, cf. 5. 333.

Cupid, god of love.

334.

1738: a tuoi.

335.

1738: m accendi; 1913, 1954: m’accendi.

336. As in 137, the Piave or Anasso river. The tree is the Collalto family, whose name is varied below as alto Colle; cf. note to 3. 337. The claim here reverses that of the previous poem, in which “Anassilla” claims to have derived her name from the river itself: here she becomes the originator of the river’s name. For plays on Collaltino as in the next verse, cf. 3. 338.

For other iterations of these conjugations, cf. note to 26.

339.

The banks and shores of the Adriatic, i.e., Venice.

Notes to Pages 184–193 340.

The 1954 edition gives mei, likely an error.

341.

1738, 1913, 1954: sta.

342. The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions set vv. 2–4 (excluding mi dice) and vv. 5–8 (excluding Io gli rispondo) as two voices of dialogue. 343.

1954: contro.

344.

Collaltino presumably remains in the Veneto.

345. The specification of imbasciate is a technical one; combined with difensione in v. 13, neither of which are found elsewhere in this volume, it gives this sonnet a distinctly official feel. 346. Legendary strong men: Hercules from Greek mythology, Samson from the Old Testament. 347.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set these last two verses off as dialogue.

348. Cf. Petrarch’s question in RVF 122.9–11: “quando fia quel giorno / che, mirando il fuggir degli anni miei, / esca del foco, et di sì lunghe pene?” (when will that day be when gazing at the flight of my years I may come out of the fire and out of so long a sorrow?). 349.

The eyes of the beloved.

350. Cf. 78.5, “hora è dolce & amena”; cf. also Battiferra, Primo libro delle opere toscane 42.4: “scendete [Diana e Febo] in questo dolce colle ameno” (descend, Diana and Apollo, to this sweet and lovely hill). The closing tercets may recall the fatal lovesickness in some of Ovid’s Heroides. 351. Luigi Baldacci sees a possible reference to the “val chiusa,” the enclosed valley of Petrarchan poetry (Lirici del Cinquecento, 106). 352. Pan is the satyr-like woodland deity who rules the forest. The fauns and Silenus are his companions. 353.

For Conte and its homonyms, cf. note to 16.

354. The 1913 and 1954 editions set the first eleven verses, excluding io dico meco, as dialogue. 355.

1913, 1954: arder.

356.

Minerva is the goddess of wisdom, Mars the god of war.

357.

An echo of Matthew 26:41; also see sonnet 223.

358. The 1913 and 1954 editions set these last four and a half verses, excluding mi dice Amor, as dialogue; one might note the enjambment. 359.

The 1913 and 1954 editions enclose the tercets in angle quotes.

360. Cf. Purgatorio 30.46–47, “Men che dramma / di sangue m’è rimaso che non tremi” (I am left with less / than one drop of my blood that does not tremble); the verse immediately following in Dante’s poem is his citation of Virgil’s Dido, “conosco i segni de l’antica fiamma” (I recognize the signs of the old flame), a line Stampa references more than once. 361. The first line is identical to Petrarch, RVF 92, the sonnet on the death of the poet Cino da Pistoia; the poem imitates much of Petrarch’s rhyme scheme as well.

381

382

Notes to Pages 193–203 One might consider an influence from Catullus 3, “Lugete, o Veneres Cupidinesque” (Mourn, ye Graces and Loves). Cf. also Stampa’s sonnet 86, which similarly opens, “Piangete Donne.” 362. Stampa may be varying on the weary viator of Horace’s Satires 1.5, but it is more likely she had in mind the Latin memorial inscription “Siste, viator.” The last verse with its instruction about not following a cruel heart links this sonnet to 152, which opens with Stampa’s wish that Love tell her how to follow him. 363.

1954: spaventosa.

364.

1738: greve.

365. Echo became so reduced by her longing for Narcissus that she wasted away until she was nothing but a voice, doomed to repeat only the endings of his and others’ words. 366.

Cf. 300.1: “Le pene de l’Inferno insieme insieme.”

367. For the donno-ponno-sonno scheme, ó ponno as a secondary clause, and the overall nightmarish tone, both here and in 70, cf. Ariosto’s Orlando furioso 39.58. 368.

1738, 1913, 1954: aggreve.

369. For the repetition of imperatives, cf. Giambattista Giraldi Cinzio’s Le fiamme 126, where a series of commands begins with the first verse “Straziami pur, Amor.” 370. One of Stampa’s few “anniversary” poems on the model of Petrarch; it has been two years since she first saw Collaltino. 371. Stampa’s use of fronde to refer to hair is unique to this sonnet, though its role as a hair ornament appears in 224.9–11. 372. Possible allusion to one of the closing moments in Paradiso 33.64, “Così la neve al sol si disigilla” (So is the snow, beneath the sun, unsealed), while the wording might echo Bembo’s Stanze 9.5: “tal che la gloria mia, come a sol neve” (such is my glory, like snow beneath the sun); for other snow metaphors, cf. also 165.7 and 278.6. The “shores” and “banks” are those of Venice. 373.

1738: premio.

374. This breathless compendium recalls Petrarch, RVF 303.4–5, “fior’, frondi, herbe, ombre, antri, onde, aure soavi, / valli chiuse, alti colli et piagge apriche” (flowers, leaves, grass, shadows, caves, waves, gentle breezes, closed valleys, high hills, and open slopes), replacing Petrarch’s naturalistic vocabulary with one more personal. 375. Possibly a reference to “Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus” (Let us live, my Lesbia, and love) from Catullus 5. 376.

1954: l’uno.

377.

Venus.

378.

1738: ed.

379. Stampa’s phrasing may be a reference to Ovid’s Heroides 10, the letter of Ariadne to Theseus; see Remigio Nannini’s 1553 translation (“i piedi infermi, i . . . dubbiosi passi”). 380. Stampa may be revising the trope used frequently among the scuola siciliana

Notes to Pages 203–210 and the stilnovisti of the beloved face imprinted on the poet’s heart; cf. also 49, 217, and 308. 381.

She attributes a similar power to him in 93.12–14.

382. Consider Antonio Tebaldeo’s Rime della vulgata 285.81–83: “hora a l’amante vita, hor morte piace, / hora avampa, hor agiaccia, hor teme, hor spera, / e mille volte il dì fa guerra e pace” (now life is attractive to the lover, now death; now he sweats, now freezes, now fears, now hopes, and a thousand times a day makes war and peace). 383.

1738, 1913, 1954: lascian me.

384. 1738: sa; 1913, 1954: san. The 1554 edition does not otherwise make use of abbreviating diacritics in the verses. 385. See the opening of Petrarch, RVF 14.1–2: “Occhi miei lassi, mentre ch’io vi giro / nel bel viso” (My weary eyes, while I turn you toward the lovely face). 386.

Cf. 156 for similar images.

387.

1738, 1913, 1954: dammi

388.

1738: e in quella.

389.

1738: quà; 1913, 1954: qua.

390. In the 1554 edition, the letters are visibly connected into one word estolto (an unlikely participle of estollere?); no subsequent edition preserves it. 391. A possible echo of the trial alluded to in Petrarch’s RVF 360 in which the poet argues with his “antiquo dolce empio signor” or “old sweet cruel lord” (Love) before a queen (Reason). 392. Phaeton flew his father Apollo’s chariot too close to the sun, Icarus flew too close to the sun on wings made of wax fashioned by his father, Daedalus; both were killed. The characters are paired by Dante (Inferno 17.106–10), Chiara Matraini (sonnet A21.12-14), and Vittoria Colonna (Rime amorose disperse 36.9–12). 393.

Another year has “passed” in 107.1: “Hor, che ritorna e si rinova l’anno.”

394. See the sonnet in appendix A to Iacopo Bonetto for a somewhat analogous expression. 395.

1738: La quale piace.

396.

The 1913 and 1954 editions close with a question mark.

397.

1738: arso, e piegato.

398. Though the specification of “poggia” and “orza” is part of the rhetoric of naval warfare in Dante (Purgatorio 22.116–17), Petrarch (RVF 180.5–6), and the battle scenes of Pulci’s Morgante, Stampa seems to have uniquely ascribed the winds to Cupid. 399.

1738: Questa tema sol turba.

400.

1738: E il foco, e il pianto.

401.

1738: l’ effetto.

402. The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions give tutto intende, thus rhyming with prende.

383

384

Notes to Pages 211–222 403. Cf. Petrarch, RVF 224.1–3: “S’ una fede amorosa, un cor non finto, / un languir dolce, un desiar cortese; / s’ oneste voglie in gentil foco accese” (If faithfulness in love, an unfeigning heart, a sweet yearning, a courteous desire—if chaste desires kindled in a noble fire). 404.

1913, 1954: a me.

405. The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions give the first three -ade rhymes as -ate to conform to gelate in v. 8. 406. The 1554 edition clearly gives an interpunct, not found elsewhere in the volume; no subsequent edition places any punctuation here. 407. Procne gave her faithless husband Tereus her son Itys to eat, after he raped her sister Philomena. Both women were turned into birds, Procne into a nightingale and Philomena into a sparrow. This sonnet may echo Petrarch, RVF 310.1–4, “Zefiro torna, e ’l bel tempo rimena / e i fiori et l’erbe, sua dolce famiglia, / et garrir Progne et pianger Filomena, / et primavera candida et vermiglia” (Zephyrus returns and leads back the fine weather and the flowers and the grass, his sweet family, and chattering Procne and weeping Philomena, and Spring, all white and vermilion). 408. Note the stunning use of infinitives, impossible to translate into fluent English. For another sonnet that features such a list, see 214. 409.

A fabulous monster; cf. 124.

410.

1962: ch’a sí crudo digiun.

411.

1962: piú che l’usato.

412.

1738: abbia.

413.

1738: fede, il mio.

414. Here Stampa addresses Collaltino with the informal “tu” for only the second time in the poems. 415.

Collaltino did marry, but only several years after Stampa’s death.

416. Legendary name given to the complex knot that only Alexander the Great was able to undo, severing it with his sword. 417.

1738: fè; 1913, 1954: fe’.

418.

1913: fe’ mai; 1954: fé mai.

419. Niobe, mother of fourteen children, all killed by Apollo and Artemis, wept until she turned to stone. Cf. also 303.12–13. 420. Cf. the incipit to Petrarch’s RVF 272.1: “La vita fugge, et non s’arresta una hora” (Life flees and does not stop an hour). 421.

1738: come, e il quando.

422.

1738: sarò.

423.

An allusion to Collaltino’s lands in the Veneto. For stanza, cf. note to 5.

424.

Stampa often plays on the title Conte: cf. note to 16.

425.

1738, 1913, 1954: saette.

Notes to Pages 222–230 426. The 1913 and 1954 editions set the first stanza, excluding dico ad Amor talora, as one entry of dialogue, and the next two, excluding mi rispond’egli allora, as a second. 427. With its despondent exchange between the poet and the god of love, the sonnet has much in common with 220, a ballata staged as a dialogue between Love and a frustrated (male) lover. 428.

1738: fra sì erba.

429. Cf. Sappho, fragment 105, “Like the hyacinth which shepherds tread underfoot in the mountains, and on the ground the purple flower,” and Virgil, Aeneid 9.435– 436, “purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro / languescit moriens” (as when a purple flower, severed by the plough, droops in death). 430. The 1738 edition reads velenoso, creating an internal rhyme with avvelenarmi below. 431. In Virgil’s account, Eurydice was bitten by a snake when chased through a meadow by Aristaeus, having failed to see the serpent hiding in the deep grass (“alta . . . in herba”; Georgics 4.459). 432. A possible reference to Dante, Inferno 3.95–96, when Virgil tells Charon that Dante’s journey through hell is commanded by God; or as he elliptically says, “vuolsi così colà dove si puote / ciò che si vuole” (our passage has been willed above, where One / can do what He has willed). 433.

1738: ii.

434.

1738, 1913, 1954: è lunge.

435. The numbers in parentheses refer to the numbering in the 1913 edition of Stampa’s works; see volume editor’s introduction. 436.

1738: del.

437.

1738, 1913, 1954: permette.

438. A reference to the familiar medieval and Renaissance topos of fortune’s wheel. 439. Possible echo of Berni’s Rime 56.63, “Sì dolce in quella parte ha fatto il callo.” Callo is an unusual word in the vocabulary of petrarchismo, although the expression “fare il callo” is also meant figuratively here, to refer to the act of becoming inured or hardened to something. 440. The phrase recurs in Bembo (sonnet 41.6, “guidar cari amorosi balli” [to lead in sweet and amorous dances]) and Petrarch (RVF 219.7: “destami al suon delli amorosi balli” [She . . . awakens me with the sound of her amorous dance]), and may allude indirectly to Ariosto’s Orlando furioso, where the lovesick narrator admits to needing to “riposar[s]i e d’uscir fuor di ballo” (find peace and withdraw from the dance; 24.3.6). 441. The earliest sonnet in the sequence to suggest a second love interest after Collaltino, unless 41 can be considered to be in this category. 442.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set vv. 1 and 3–4 as a voice of dialogue.

443.

1913, 1954: questa.

444.

1738: E questo, e quella.

385

386

Notes to Pages 231–241 445.

Rivers in hell; thus allusions to Dante’s Inferno continue.

446.

Legendary food of the gods.

447. The vocabulary of the first two quatrains are reminiscent of Dante’s opening canto of Inferno, in which the exhausted pilgrim, near death, sees the “raggi del pianeta” (rays of that same planet) that give him hope and compares himself to someone who with “lena affannata” (exhausted breath) has escaped from sea to shore. 448.

For Stampa’s play on Conte with words such as conto, cf. note to 16.

449.

1738: fedel lo deste.

450. I.e., her love. Cf. 88.5–6, “Tu Amore, il cui strale, e la cui face / Ogni contento human recide e miete.” 451. See the opening of Petrarch, RVF 360: “Quel’antiquo mio dolce empio signore” (my old sweet cruel lord)—a reference to Amore, or Love. 452.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set these first eight lines off as dialogue.

453.

1738: ciel partilla.

454. Stampa may be echoing Dante, Inferno 4.41–42, “semo perduti e sol di tanto offesi, / che sanza speme vivemo in disio” (we now are lost and punished just with this: / we have no hope and yet we live in longing). 455.

Henri II; Gaul is France.

456. The word is possibly a reference to Mary’s response to Gabriel in Luke 1:38: “Et disse Maria. Ecco l’ancilla del signore, sia fatto a me secondo la tua parola”; cf. also 231.1 and 246.3. 457.

1738: a dall’ arene; 1913, 1954: e da l’arene.

458.

1738, 1913, 1954: queto e sicuro.

459.

1913, 1954: vede e’ si.

460. The Sun seems to be God rather than Collaltino; the metaphor will have a divine referent again in 229.15: “Quell’infinito Sole, / Di cui quest’ altro Sole è picciol raggio.” 461. See sonnet 72 for another instance where Stampa compares her amorous journey to navigating the sea, and for other parallels in Italian poetry. 462. Cf. Petrarch’s RVF 23.1: “Nel dolce tempo de la prima etade” (In the sweet time of my first age). 463. Stampa seems to echo Dido’s claim in Aeneid 4.23, “agnosco veteris vestigia flammae” (I feel again a spark of that former flame), or Dante’s translation in Purgatorio 30.48, “conosco i segni de l’antica fiamma” (I recognize the signs of the old flame). 464.

1738: Ed io ardere amando.

465. The salamander was said to be able to survive only in fire; the other animal is probably the phoenix, who is born out of the very ashes of the flame that consumed its predecessor. The phoenix appears again in the following sonnet and in 224, and in Ippolita Mirtilla’s poem to Stampa upon her death (appendix B). 466. 224.

The phoenix’s origins are said to be in Egypt. Cf. the preceding sonnet and

Notes to Pages 242–249 467. 1738, 1913, 1954: son per provar. The repetition is not flagged as an erratum in the 1554 edition. 468.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set Ama chi t’odia and non pur chi t’ama as dialogue.

469.

1738: questo è il vero; 1913, 1954: è ’l vero.

470. The dictum is likely a reference to Jesus’s dialogue in Matthew 5:43–44, which ends with “Amate inimici vostri” (love your enemies). But also see Petrarch RVF 105.31: “Ama chi l’ama è fatto antico” (‘love him who loves you’ is an ancient fact). 471. Cf. 236.9, “se tal volta vò spiegando in carte”; the phrase may refer to the futility imagined in Petrarch’s RVF 261.9–11: “ ‘l parlar che nullo stile aguaglia, / e ’l bel tacere, et quei cari costumi, / che ’ngegno human non pò spiegar in carte” (the speech that no style can equal, and the lovely silences, and those dear manners which human wit cannot set forth on any page). 472.

1738: che m’ ho.

473.

1738: cancellar. Cf. 276.

474.

1738: E delle antiche ancor; 1913, 1954: e de l’antico amor

475.

1738, 1913, 1954: senta al desire.

476.

1738, 1913, 1954: fu.

477. Christmas; a return to the second poem of the sequence where Stampa claims to have first seen Collaltino during the Christmas season. 478. Note that the previous sonnet began with Io non veggio—the 1738 edition does not preserve the original repetition, giving veggo in 211. 479.

The 1738 edition replaces anco here and in the following verse with anche.

480.

All subsequent editions give rare for fiere, and si for Sì, below.

481.

1738, 1913, 1954: Negli altrui.

482. Cf. Petrarch’s RVF 150.1, “Che fai, alma?” (What are you doing, soul?), and its series of questions addressed to the soul. 483. For another poem that employs a long list of verbs, see 174; on the possible influence of Berni on this poem, see volume editor’s introduction. 484.

1738, 1913, 1954: Freddo.

485.

1738: In sì.

486. This poem resembles Venier’s “Sciolto quel nodo . . .” sonnet and, by extension, the Aeneid’s Dido. Cf. also a sonnet by Pietro Gradenigo published in Ruscelli’s Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, f. 241v, “Sciolto era il nodo, onde m’avinse Amore” (the knot was undone, by which Love took me). The poem dwells on the arrival of a “novo laccio, e novo ardore” (new noose and new passion). 487. The poem is an acrostic; the first letters of each line spell out the name of Stampa’s presumed lover, Bartholomeo Zen. 488. A return to several earlier sonnets in which Stampa uses the Gospel invocation to love one’s neighbor as oneself as an argument for her beloved to love her. Note that Stampa’s spartan use of Venetian nui and vui, here, in 253.11, and in 254.14, is limited to the ends of verses.

387

388

Notes to Pages 249–256 489. For Stampa’s elaborations of the trope of the beloved painted or sculpted onto the heart, cf. 49, 162, and 308. 490.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set the rest of the poem off as dialogue

491.

1738: speme.

492.

1738: riscalda.

493. Likely a misprint, although not a reported erratum, of D’ un altro (1738) or d’un altro (1913, 1954). 494. Cf. this tercet against, among others, Vittoria Colonna’s Rime spirituali 73.9–11, “Gradi di fede e caritate e speme / e di quella umiltà che l’uom sublima / ne fanno scala infino al Ciel superno” (steps of faith and charity and hope, and of that humility that elevates man, all constitute the ladder that leads to supernal Heaven). 495. For the theme of taking up a second lover, see 215. Once again, a Gradenigo poem is pertinent, again from the Ruscelli anthology: “Così lasso, né lieta, né tranquilla / non provo hora giamai anzi le pene / In me raddoppia Amore, e i miei tormenti. / Né credo fine havran, fin cha’l mio bene / Non giunga appresso, e l’alma non contenti / Del desir, di qual ogn’hor arde, e sfavilla” (Thus, alas, I’ve had not even a single peaceful or happy hour since love has redoubled these pains and torments. Nor do I imagine they’ll end until my beloved is near me, my soul contented in the desire that’s always burning and rekindled; Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, f. 241v). 496. Another possible allusion to Dido, torn apart by a second love (“Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae” [I feel again a spark of that former flame]; Aeneid 4.23). Cf. also 206.9. 497.

No subsequent edition preserves this question mark.

498. Probably an early poem of Stampa’s, the poem—a ballata with a rhyme scheme of aabb, with a third a-rhyme occurring in the middle of the third line—is a dialogue between a frustrated lover and Cupid, god of love. Love himself opens the dialogue. 499.

Presumably Venice.

500.

The 1954 edition gives pietade, slanting the internal rhyme.

501. The 1913 and 1954 editions set each stanza off as one separate voice, excluding this last stanza, composed of four (Io volo . . . , Io resto . . . , Io Giove, and Io chiamerò . . . rara). 502. In the 1554 volume, there is a significant break between 220 and this sonnet, marked off by a banner with a grotesque; following the sonnet’s dedication, there is a second smaller decorative illustration. 503. Henry II of Valois (1519–59), king of France from 1547 until his death, and a major patron of Renaissance culture. 504. As in 114, another example of a turn (“volta”) marked explicitly by Stampa in the first line of the first tercet, here accentuating with “Volgi” the desire that Henri II turn from his kingly duties to gaze on Stampa herself. 505. The 1738 edition inserts a verse between lines 9 and 10, reading Che parleran di voi sì scrittori.

Notes to Pages 257–261 506. Caterina de’ Medici, wife of Henri II (1519–89). Note that where Stampa addressed Henri II as “tu,” Catherine is addressed as “Voi.” 507. Luigi Alamanni (1495–1556), Florentine poet who went into exile in France after his involvement in a conspiracy against the Medici. The “greatest and most gracious king who lives” is therefore Henri II. 508.

Apollo.

509. Cf. Matthew 26:41, “vigilate & orate, accio che voi non entriate in tentatione. Lo spirito certamente è pronto, ma la carne inferma” (be vigilant and pray, so you don’t enter into temptation. The spirit is certainly ready, but the flesh is weak); cf. also Stampa’s 148. 510. The phoenix is a rare and miraculous bird; the woman whose “golden plumes”—blonde hair—are celebrated here is unknown. Ippolita Mirtilla will memorialize Stampa as a phoenix in her commemorative verse; see appendix B. 511.

1738: desio.

512.

1738: E tanti.

513. See Ariosto’s paean to “donne antique” in the opening of canto 20 of Orlando furioso; the first stanza ends “Safo e Corinna, perché furon dotte, / splendono illustri, e mai non veggon notte” (Sappho and Corinna shine, on account of their learning, with a radiance that night will never darken). Sappho is the seventh-century poetess from Lesbos, Corinna a sixth-century BC lyric poetess from Thebes, said to have been Pindar’s instructor. 514. The lord invoked here is unknown; the Trojan hero is Antenor, legendary founder of Padua, Stampa’s native city. 515. Saint Anthony, patron saint of Padua, is the “god” dear to the true Jove, i.e., God. Stampa is in Venice, forbidden by her lord to journey to Padua for Saint Anthony’s feast day. 516.

For contese and other such puns on Conte, cf. note to 16.

517.

The lord is unknown.

518.

Parnassus.

519.

1738: Poichè poterlo.

520. Literally, “la vera porpora,” or true crimson, color of the cardinal’s robes as well as of royalty; “’l ver’ ostro” or true purple, color of the senatorial robes. 521. Domenico Venier (1517–82) was a well-known Venetian patrician and patron of the arts who presided over one of the city’s more elegant salons or ridotti. Numerous of his poems are found in the same volumes of Domenichi and Ruscelli in which Stampa’s poems were published. 522.

Presumably Collaltino.

523. Sperone Speroni (1500–1588) was a literary critic and dramaturge of considerable fame. With the “spronate” of the second line, Stampa is punning on the root of the dedicatee’s name; for other uses of spronare, a decidedly Petrarchan verb, cf. note to 10. 524.

Both Stampa and Speroni were from Padua, founded by the Trojan Antenor.

389

390

Notes to Pages 261–270 525.

Venice.

526. In all likelihood, written upon the death of a Milanese nun, Angelica Paola Antonia de’Negri, whom Stampa had come to know in the 1540s. 527.

For mortal velo, cf. note to 122.

528. Though Stampa constantly uses the Sun, always capitalized, to refer to the beloved, this seems to be one of only two such divine apostrophes; cf. also 203.5, “Io mi volsi al gran Sole.” 529.

Of Venice.

530.

1738: La.

531.

1738, 1913, 1954: tornando.

532. The close echoes the end of several Petrarchan canzoni, most notably RVF 126: “Se tu avessi ornamenti quant’ài voglia, / poresti arditamente / uscir del boscho et gir in fra la gente” (If you had as many beauties as you have desire, you could boldly leave the wood and go among people). For Tramontana, cf. note to 56. 533. Presumably the same nun—possibly Angelica Paola Antonia de’Negri—to whom the earlier canzone was dedicated (of which there are obvious echoes in this poem). The next three sonnets are also directed to a nun. 534.

1738: Queglì non è che.

535.

1738: Per.

536. The phrase Mary uses of herself in Luke’s Gospel (1:38, “Ecco l’ancilla del Signore”); cf. also 202.7 and 246.3. 537. This is a deft conflation of biblical referents: the rent veil of Matthew 27:51, Paul’s veil (or sail, velame) of shadows (2 Cor 3:12–16), and the straight paths of Psalm 23 (to which Stampa alludes elsewhere). Note the switch in the final tercet to the first-person plural, as Stampa includes herself among the “figli diletti” of the opening lines. 538. The 1913 and 1954 editions set these last six verses, excluding s’udia dolce cantare, as dialogue. 539.

The 1738 edition reads fresch’ aura.

540.

1913, 1954: ne.

541.

The military formation is varied in 252.5, “quella angelica brigata.”

542. Cf. also 273.12–13: “Io per me son quasi un terreno asciutto, / Sono una pianta abbandonata e vile.” 543. The phrase recalls the metaphor for the Church, la navicella di San Pietro; cf. also 250.2. 544. The dedicatee may be the Venetian Alvise Priuli (1470–1561), a Protestant sympathizer who left Italy for England in the late 1540s and who wrote numerous letters and verses. 545. Possibly Jacopo Zane (1529–60), Venetian poet and frequent participant in the salons of Domenico Venier. 546.

1738: quanto è il; 1913, 1954: quanto è ’l.

Notes to Pages 270–275 547.

1738, 1913, 1954: darne.

548. Collaltino, who is once again addressed as a poet, as are the other dedicatees in this section. 549.

Cf. 45.7: “d’ogni virtù nido e sostegno.”

550. Vinciguerra II, Collaltino’s brother, abbot of a monastery in Nervesa; he also wrote verse. See 260 for another sonnet dedicated to him. 551.

The 1954 edition omits this entire third verse.

552. The 1554 edition adds SIGNOR after this line, apparently as a catchword, though Signor is not the next word. One might suggest that it would have been logical to have placed the other poem Stampa wrote to Vinciguerra, 260 (Salza’s 258), which begins “Signor, dapoi che l’acqua del mio pianto,” immediately after this first poem to him. 553.

1738: volli.

554. The stampa-Stampa rhyme is a means for the poet not only to pun on the root of her own surname but also to make an association between herself and the publishing industry. It is only one of two times Stampa alludes to her own name (as opposed to that of Anassilla); the second is 262. 555. Mountains dedicated to the Muses; the Castalian spring feeds Parnassus. The dedicatee of the poem is not clear, although the presence of the verb spronare in the fifth line might suggest another poem to Stampa’s fellow Paduan, Speroni Sperone (cf. 228) 556. Linus was an ancient Greek singer, supposedly the teacher of Hercules; Orpheus the mythical singer and poet. 557. The 1554 edition places a closed parenthesis after this line, but there is never an opening one; the 1913 and 1954 editions maintain such an aside from ma onward. If it is an error, perhaps another is the comma closing the final verse, unique to this sonnet. 558.

1738: e all’ altro.

559.

1954: esternamente.

560.

1738: amarlo, è l’ amo.

561. Girolamo Molin (1500–1569) was a prolific poet and student of Bembo; from an important Venetian family, he served as “Capitano” of the republic. Domenico Venier, a close friend, published his collected poems after his death. The following sonnet is also addressed to Molin. 562. A similar image appears in a sonnet dedicated to Molin by Venier (in Delle Rime scelte da diversi autori, di nuovo corrette, et ristampate, ed. Lodovico Dolce, p. 431): “Giunto al fin poi comune ultimamente / Tu ne volasti al ciel colomba pura / Lieto non men, che ’l mondo orbo dolente” (vv. 12–14; At last come to our common end, you flew to heaven, pure dove, no less happy than the world is full of sorrow). 563.

Collaltino.

564. Molin wrote at least one poem to Collaltino (published posthumously in his Rime, p. 104, and republished in Salza’s edition of Stampa’s Rime, p. 191), “Alto colle

391

392

Notes to Pages 275–280 famoso al ciel gradito,” which Stampa must have known. In it, he alludes directly to Stampa herself, suggesting that Collaltino is admired by a woman who “sings of her love for you and sighs so sweetly, that she’s eternally banished winter from your domain.” Thus, he goes on, “the whole world will say a New Siren sat singing of a high hill, and on its heights made your green leaves eternal and the air serene” (“’l mondo dirà: Nova Sirena, / poggiò cantando un colle alto, e in cima / fe’l verde eterno, e l’aria ognor serena”). 565.

The hill is, of course, Collaltino.

566. One might note the internal rhyme of Battro and Tile with the opening of the next stanza, basso and vile, expressions that recur throughout: cf. notes to 89 and 3, respectively. 567.

1738: e di me vile.

568. This poem appears as Stampa’s only in the 1554 edition. Subsequent editions replace it with the sonnet to Bonetto (see appendix A), whereas this poem is placed in a section of poems entitled “Rime diverse”—poems written to Stampa rather than by her. The author is indicated as anonymous. The fact that the poem is addressed to a woman who praises her beloved, as the last tercet clearly indicates, apparently convinced later editors that the poem was directed to Stampa rather than written by her. 569.

1738: si.

570.

No subsequent edition preserves this apostrophe.

571. Note how Stampa turns in the final tercet to address her fellow Venetians. The addressee of the sonnet is unknown, although it is clearly another poet. 572.

1738: Rendere.

573. While the lord of the first quatrain is presumably Collaltino, this “Signore” is unknown. 574. Possible echoes of Pietro Bembo’s “La nostra e di Giesù nemica gente” (our enemy, and that of Christ), which was addressed to Pope Clement VII and dismissive of the Germans whose “empio furor” or evil madness Clement countered with his holy sword (“santa spada”) during the sack of Rome; Baldacci, Lirici del cinquecento, 23. 575. The soldier in question is the duke of Ferrandina Castriota, who was killed during Carnival revelries in Venice. He was apparently in the battalions that fought against German Protestants under the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V. Ironically, Bembo’s poem of some twenty years earlier, if it was a source, has Charles V fighting with Protestants against the pope. 576. Mars is the god of war, Venus of love; their adulterous passion is the subject of numerous classical poems and Renaissance paintings. 577. For Stampa’s combination of avorio and ostro, cf. 63. For other uses of ancella, as in v. 3, cf. 202.7 and 231.1; this is the only instance of Stampa’s rhyming with rubella. 578. The 1913 and 1954 editions set these first eleven lines as dialogue. 579.

1738: palesi.

Notes to Pages 280–285 580.

1738: e il valor.

581.

Venus.

582. The “renowned shepherds” are undoubtedly other Venetian poets, possibly some of whom are the direct addressees of some of Stampa’s poems. 583.

The brightest star (la più chiara stella) is Venus.

584. The trope of shedding, alluding also to aging, appears several times in Battiferra and Michelangelo; see also 33. 585. Unknown; the 1954 edition speculates that it might be either Domenico or Marcantonio Michiel, both writers of occasional verse. 586. With the repetition of note for “known” and “[musical] notes,” another example of rima equivoca. 587.

1738, 1913, 1954: salita a’ scanni.

588. The 1738 edition gives the first person in fossi and Vivessi, two verses below; that the original third person is kept in spiegasse in v. 4 suggests that the editor intended a shift in subject here. 589. The name of the couple is unknown; there are numerous Serravalles in northern and central Italy, with perhaps the most likely one being Serravalle a Po, outside of Mantua. 590. The phrase recalls the metaphor for the Church, la navicella di San Pietro; cf. 234.7. 591. The 1954 edition suggests this is G. Giacomo Balbi, a little-known Venetian poet. 592.

Apollo, associated with the Muses.

593. Another poem directed to the “schiera gentil” or cultured group of poets and musicians with whom Stampa was associated in Venice; cf. also 24. 594. Most likely the scholar and writer Gabriele Trifone (1470–1549), called “Socrates” by his students and friends. Francesco Sansovino notes that Trifone was called the “Nuovo Socrate dell’età nostra” (Venetia Citta nobilissima et singolare, p. 257). Venier’s sonnet 44 on the death of Trifon opens in a similar vein: “Anima, ch’a pensier leggiadri e casti / Volta, mentre qui fosti al corpo unita, / Lungi dal vulgo, e tutta in te romita / Pace tranquilla oltr’ogni stato amasti” (Soul turned to thoughts easeful and chaste when you were still one with your body, far from the vulgar crowd; you loved tranquil peace above all other states, as it sequestered itself away with you) (Rime, p. 23). 595.

For the angelic formation, cf. the “squadre angeliche” of 233.7.

596. The addressee of this and the following sonnet is Leonardo Emo, Venetian patrician and patron who had directed several poems to Stampa; see appendix B. Palladio designed a villa for him in Fanzolo, in the Trevigiano, not far from where Collaltino had his estates. 597. The concern over fully praising her subject reappears in 100.12 and 235.9–11. There may also be an echo of the famous promise introducing Ariosto’s Orlando furioso: “Dirò d’Orlando in un medesmo tratto / cosa non detta in prosa mai né in

393

394

Notes to Pages 285–291 rima” (I shall tell of Orlando, too, setting down what has never before been recounted in prose or rhyme; 1.2.1–2). 598. For the double meaning of stanza, cf. note to 5; for nui, in the next tercet, cf. note to 216. 599. This agglutinate, which reads che il in the 1738 edition and che ’l in the 1913 and 1954, also recurs in 309. 600.

1738: che à gran.

601.

1738: nulla seconda.

602. A reference to the Iliad and possibly to Petrarch’s RVF 186.1–4: “Se Virgilio et Homero avessin visto / quel sole il qual vegg’io con gli occhi miei, / tutte lor forze in dar fama a costei / avrian posto, et l’un stil coll’altro misto” (If Virgil and Homer had seen that sun which I see with my eyes, they would have exerted all their powers to give her fame and would have mixed together the two styles). 603.

The waters that bathe Mount Parnassus, sacred to Apollo.

604.

The goddess is Venus, said to prefer Venice to her home in Cyprus.

605. “La Barozza” is Elena Barozzi Zantani, wealthy Venetian apparently known for her beauty. The verse from Veronica Gambara may not be out of place: “Undo your tresses of gold, and wreathe your head with myrtle and laurels, beautiful Venus” (Le Rime 35.1–2: “Sciogli le trecce d’oro e d’ogni intorno / cingi le tempie de’ tuoi mirti e allori / Venere bella”). 606. The identity of the couple is unknown; might it be the same pair celebrated in 249? 607.

The 1913 and 1954 editions print these last two verses as dialogue.

608.

1738: erba.

609. Another rare example of Stampa ending two lines with the same word (ardore); cf. 102. 610.

Apollo, patron of arts both poetic and medicinal.

611. Leonardo Emo, subject of two earlier poems; possibly Nicolò Tiepolo, memorialized by Francesco Sansovino as “Senatore Dottore et Filosofo” and a writer of verses in the vernacular “worthy of much praise” (Venetia Citta nobilissima et singolare, p. 259r). He seems to have been close to Gasparo Contarini, a Venetian reformer during the papacy of Paul III. 612. Giovanni Andrea Guiscardo or Viscardo (1525–1607), scholar and writer and close friend of Pietro Bembo’s son, Torquato; this and the following poem seem to suggest that he pursued a romantic attachment with Stampa. Note the repetition of “honorate,” “honorarte,” and “honestate”—the last often implying a woman’s chastity, and thus Stampa’s punning way of bringing together her honor with Guiscardo’s. 613.

1738, 1913, 1954: e.

614.

The 1913 and 1954 editions mark this line as dialogue.

615. The lord is Vinciguerra, the brother of Collaltino; cf. 237, another sonnet explicitly dedicated to him.

Notes to Pages 292–298 616. The 1913 and 1954 editions set these first eleven lines as dialogue. 617.

1913: i pastor.

618.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set these last six lines as dialogue.

619.

The dedicatee, addressed in 262 as Coridon, is unknown.

620.

Gaspara and her sister Cassandra. She also refers to her family name in 238.

621. The same “schiera” or gracious company of poets of previous poems. Cf. 251.2 and also note to 24. 622.

1954: lingua e snode.

623. This distinctly northern variant of zanzara, also used by the Venetian geographer Giovanni Battista Ramusio, is not preserved in the 1738 edition. 624.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions read vui, obeying the rhyme scheme.

625.

Seat of the Muses.

626.

Her beloved, probably Collaltino.

627. The Batracomiomachia, which tells of a war between frogs and mice, was thought to be Homer’s; Virgil may have written a poem on a mosquito, the Culex. Venier’s sonnet to Geronima d’Aragona mentions both the poet’s “stil nudo e negletto” (naked and negligent style) and “great Homer” as he contrasts his lowliness with d’Aragona’s lofty honors; in Ottavio Sammarco, ed., Il Tempio della divina signora Donna Geronima Colonna d’Aragona, p. 90. 628. 1738: nelle ore prime; 1913, 1954: ne l’ore prime. Also, the 1913 and 1954 editions set the rest of the sonnet, excluding mi disse, as dialogue. 629.

1913, 1954: o d’eloquenzia. Cf. note to 84.6.

630.

1738: E dell’ altre virtù.

631. The same dedicatee as 234; Virgil is from Mantua, Homer sang of the Mycenaeans and Trojans. 632.

“Conte,” here meaning “well-known”; for other puns on Conte, cf. note to 5.

633. See Virgil, Eclogue 6:1-5, and discussion in volume editor’s introduction: “My muse first deigned to sport in Sicilian strains, and blushed not to dwell in the woods. When I was fain to sing of kings and battles, the Cynthian [Apollo] plucked my ear and warned me: ‘A shepherd, Tityrus, should feed sheep that are fat, but sing a lay fine-spun.’ ” 634. Salza (in Stampa, Rime) suggests that “il Reverendo” is an allusion to Monsignor Giovanni della Casa (1503–56), poet and author of the Galateo, the work he was writing in the early 1550s when a guest of Vinciguerra’s in his abbey in the Veneto; Stampa’s sister Cassandra also dedicated to him the 1554 Rime. 635. The addressee may be Antonio Soranzo, occasional poet and member of a distinguished Venetian family, or as Giorgio Forni has recently suggested, Vettor Soranzo, collaborator with Pietro Bembo in his last years and friend of his son Torquato (291n). 636. The poem appeared in Del tempio alla divina signora Giovanna d’Aragona fabricato da tutti i più gentili spiriti (1555), edited by Girolamo Ruscelli.

395

396

Notes to Pages 298–303 637.

The 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions give the one word condegni.

638.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set this verse in parentheses.

639.

Ruscelli: beata.

640.

1738: paghi i disir; 1913, 1954: paghi e’ disir.

641.

1738: volli. This is the second time volli replaces volsi; cf. 239.

642. The 1554 edition punctuates this verse with a very faint, possibly handwritten colon, a character not otherwise found in the volume; the 1738 uses a comma, the 1913 and 1954 nothing. 643.

1738, 1913, 1954: penna.

644.

The 1738 edition revises the ambiguous Latinism, reading mietendo.

645. The other poets in the anthology, who included Domenico Venier (to whom Stampa has a sonnet), Benedetto Varchi, Lodovico Domenichi (who wrote dedicatory sonnets for the volume of Stampa’s poetry), Annibal Caro, Luigi Tansillo, and Laura Terracina. 646.

The Greek name for Italy.

647. Note the uncharacteristically Latinate construction of the two quatrains, which form a single phrase ending with the verbs “adorno, & empio.” The “goddess” is Giovanna d’Aragona, daughter of Ferdinand, king of Spain, and wife of Ascanio Colonna. 648. The addressee is unknown. There are several echoes with sonnet 228 to Speroni, including the possible play on the verb “spronar” in line 9. 649. Ortensio Lando (1512–53), author and anthologist of a number of celebrated works including the Paradossi and Oracoli dei moderni ingegni, and it is no doubt because of his efforts as an anthologist that Stampa praises him for “harvesting” others’ works. Lando’s last works are notable for their Protestant sympathies, as is clear from his Dialogo della sacra scrittura, published in Venice in 1552. Collaltino seems to have supported several of his publishing efforts. 650. This “worthy knight” is unknown, although he must have had some role as either a diplomat—hence his role in putting “out the flames” consuming England and France—or a soldier, presumably in the same conflict in which Collaltino was involved in the early 1550s. 651. Most likely Fortunio Spira, one of Stampa’s early teachers; Venier also has a sonnet to him. There is a poem of Spiro’s (220) in Lodovico Dolce’s Rime di Diversi, et Eccellenti Autori. 652.

Likely an error; all subsequent editions give [c]olta da.

653.

1913, 1954: pieno.

654.

1738: minor poco.

655. The lord, unknown, has evidently written poems praising Stampa’s Collalto (“l’alto Colle”). 656.

Cf. 233.14: “Sì gentil pianta in un terreno asciutto.”

657. The identity of this passionate young man is unknown, although it may be the Guiscardo of a previous poem (259).

Notes to Pages 304–309 658. Likely a printing error; this one word is given as l’ amate in the 1738 edition and l’amate in the 1913 and 1954. 659.

1913, 1954, 1962: che far deggio.

660.

1738: Cancella. Cf. also 211.

661.

The 1913 and 1954 editions set vv. 3–4 in parentheses.

662. God’s. This is the first of several poems that seem to turn away from mortal things to heavenly ones. See the opening of Petrarch’s RVF 366: “Vergine bella, che, di sol vestita, / coronata di stelle, al sommo Sole / piacesti sì che ’n te Sua luce ascose, / amor mi spinge a dir di te parole” (Beautiful Virgin who, clothed with the sun and crowned with stars, so pleased the highest Sun that in you He hid His light: love drives me to speak words of you). 663. Petrarch’s RVF 128 opens “Italia mia, benché ’l parlar sia indarno / a le piaghe mortali / che nel bel corpo tuo sì spesse veggio” (My Italy, although speech does not aid those mortal wounds of which in your lovely body I see so many). Closer to the sentiments of this poem, see RVF 365 (“I’ vo piangendo i miei passati tempi”). Also see the volume editor’s introduction for the text of the first of Vittoria Colonna’s Rime spirituali, which Stampa echoes through her choice of rhyme scheme in the two quatrains. While Colonna asks to use the nails of the cross as her pens and Christ’s blood as her ink (“i santi chiodi omai sieno mie penne, / e puro inchiostro il prezïoso sangue”), Stampa instead requests that the wounds be printed (“imprimer”) on her heart without her own mediation. 664.

A reference to the crucifixion.

665.

1738: Abbondare; 1913, 1954: abuondare.

666.

1738: de’ tuoi.

667.

This first verse is set as dialogue in the 1913 and 1954 editions.

668. Note the reference to the “alti colli” or high hills, the same phrase often used to designate Collaltino; cf. note to 3. 669. This is the poem with which Salza ended the 1913 volume, thus making it (falsely) appear that Stampa closed her Rime with a poem asking for God’s forgiveness. 670.

For snow imagery, cf. note to 156.

671. Possibly an allusion to Inferno 1.22–27: “E come quei che con lena affannata, / uscito fuor del pelago a la riva, / si volge a l’acqua perigliosa e guata, / così l’animo mio, ch’ancor fuggiva, / si volse a retro a rimirar lo passo” (And just as he who, with exhausted breath, / having escaped from sea to shore, turns back / to watch the dangerous waters he has quit / so did my spirit, still a fugitive, / turn back to look intently at the pass). 672.

1738: vere.

673.

1738: premio.

674.

1738: sola è vietato.

675. Stampa’s 279 begins with “Volgi à me peccatrice,” a line of dialogue ascribed to God. Perhaps this poem, opening with “Volgi padre,” is a response.

397

398

Notes to Pages 309–320 676. The “misera oscura valle” may be the valley of death of Psalm 23:3–4 (“Anchora quando io caminero per la valle de l’ombra de la morte non temero il male, perche tu sei meco”); it may also echo the “selva oscura” of the opening of Dante’s Inferno. 677.

1738: orrore

678. The disciple Peter denies three times that he is a follower of Christ when confronted with such accusations the night that Jesus is taken into custody. 679. The “lord” is presumably Collaltino, the vehicles raising him to heaven his virtues and personal qualities. 680. A reference to a more Neoplatonic dynamic in Stampa’s poems to Collaltino: from now on she will love him not for his beauty but for his virtue. Similar sentiments are to be found in the next two poems. 681.

1738, 1913, 1954: Castalio.

682. The typical opening of epic poetry (Homer’s “Sing, Muse, the wrath of Peleus’s son Achilles”; Virgil’s “Arms and the man I sing”); here instead Stampa reserves it for her final sonnet about Collaltino. 683.

Traditional home of the Muses. For schiera, cf. note to 24.

684. “Orto” (garden) has no clear referent, but it must refer to the east, while “Occaso” is where the sun sets, in the west. 685. The first of six capitoli¸ poems distinguished by their terzine and, with the exception of this poem which enumerates the curses of Love for an audience of women readers who have not yet experienced them, a narrative dimension that approximates that of Ovid’s Heroides. The opening line is reminiscent of Louise Labé, elegy 3, “Quand vous lirez, ô Dames Lionnoises, / Ces miens escrits pleins d’amoureuses noises” (When, O ladies of Lyon, you read these my writings, full of amorous moans). 686.

1738: che mai.

687.

Note the playful use of “errar” and “errore.”

688.

No subsequent edition preserves this apostrophe. Cf. also 244.

689. The 1913 and 1954 editions parenthesize this line, as well as e giunga il prego mio presso e lontano in v. 84. 690.

Collaltino apparently fought in Mirandola, south of Bologna, in 1551.

691.

Mars is the god of war.

692. Much of the remainder of the poem is modeled on Tibullus, Elegies 1.10, which opens, “Who first introduced the terrible sword?” and contrasts the current iron age with the bucolic past as well as with the poet’s own childhood. Other golden age motifs are found in Virgil’s fourth eclogue and Ovid’s Metamorphoses. 693.

1738: guerre, le.

694.

1738: ingordi e insani.

695.

1738: suonare; 1913, 1954: sonare.

696.

1738: cittadi.

697.

1738: faceste.

Notes to Pages 320–332 698.

1738: tutti, miei.

699. The epistolary device is reminiscent of Ovid’s Heroides, in which epistles are sent back and forth between separated lovers, not all of them faithful. 700.

See 141.8, “Subito visto, e subito rubbato.”

701. France, where Collaltino is fighting; the Rhône and Meuse are rivers, the former on France’s eastern border, the latter in northwest France. 702.

1738, 1913, 1954: poco.

703. The 1954 edition gives the entire verse as non possendo tornar, per porger ésca, identical, save for the diacritic, to the verse two lines above (. . . èsca). 704.

1738: sì dalle amorose.

705. The “guerrier . . . franco” plays on the fact that Collaltino is in France. 706.

The 1738 edition gives the entire verse as Mi vi die’ tosto mi vi tolse.

707.

1738: Dalle ricche.

708. The 1554 edition appears to have a grave accent here; the more logical pronoun is given in the 1738, 1913, and 1954 editions. 709.

The 1954 edition omits vv. 19–24; the next line there is E tu, che ’n cave.

710.

1913, 1954: tutte.

711.

1738, 1913, 1954: vinta.

712. Cf. Battiferra’s Rime 57.9–11: “E quando appare in oriente il sole, / e quando attuffa in mar suoi caldi rai, / chiamo te Roma sempre, e sempre in vano” (And when the sun appears in the east, and when its warm rays plunge into the sea, Rome, I call on you always, and always in vain). 713. The apostrophe may allude to the Petrarchan emblem of separation, in RVF 10 and elsewhere, or the poet-songbird of Virgil’s Georgics 4.510ff. (the shadowy woods of which also find echoes in Stampa, here and in 173.1–4). For lai in Stampa, cf. also 68.52 and 69.12. 714. Echo appears in other sonnets; she flees human society and lives in caves. For aure, see 67; for schiera, 24. 715.

1738, 1913, 1954: mal si pente.

716.

The other Muses, nine in all.

717.

1738: che ne sia.

718. One of the few times in the Rime that Stampa addresses her beloved in the informal “tu.” See also 106 and 178. 719. For the first time in the poem the poet turns her attention to Collaltino, who has left her for his lands in Lendenara, near Rovigo. 720.

1738, 1913, 1954: Carco.

721.

1738: caro dolce.

722.

1738: distosa.

723.

1738: consorto.

724.

1738: Sicchè a gran; 1913: sí ch’a gran; 1954: sì ch’a gran.

399

400

Notes to Pages 333–347 725. After setting up a series of stanzas beginning with “non aspettò mai” or “non disiò mai,” the capitolo turns to address “Mirtilla,” possibly the poet Ippolita Mirtilla anthologized with nine poems in Domenichi, Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime, et virtuosissime donne. For the sonnet Ippolita Mirtilla addressed to Gaspara Stampa in Domenichi’s collection, see appendix B. 726.

Possibly Mirtilla’s poetry, as the 1954 edition speculates.

727.

1738: fobbre.

728. 1738: fra mezzo il mal. For the northern variation mezo, revised by all later editions, cf. note to 14.4. 729. The 1913 and 1954 editions set vv. 1–8 as one voice, and 9–10, excluding mi risponde ei, as a second. 730. With this poem begins a sequence of madrigals—nineteen in all—that seem to return to the figure of Collaltino as the poet’s beloved. While the rhyme schemes vary, the most common is abba/cddc/ . . . ee/ff. Lines range in length from five to thirteen syllables. The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions, when appropriate, do not preserve stanzas within any of the madrigals. 731.

1738, 1913, 1954, 1962: si more.

732. Likely a spacing error: the 1554 edition reads à gliocchi; the 1738, 1913, 1954, and 1962 read agli occhi. 733.

1738: mantienti il; 1913, 1954: mantieni ’l.

734.

1738: visto, e provato.

735.

1738: Fà; 1913, 1954: fa.

736.

1738: Beato sogno.

737.

For other uses of Conte and its homonyms, cf. note to 16.

738. Cf. 153.5: “Vi vedreste le pene de l’Inferno,” referring to the interior of her heart. 739. Likely an erratum, although not so marked in the 1554 edition; the 1738 reads Quanto io; the 1913 and 1954 quant’io. 740.

1738: voci, e in carte.

741.

1913, 1954, 1962: è pi[ù].

742. Perhaps an allusion to the story of Niobe, referenced in an earlier sonnet (180.13) 743.

The 1913, 1954, and 1962 editions set these last two verses as dialogue.

744.

See 49, 162, and 217 for similar constructs.

745.

1913, 1954: sia dessa.

746.

1738: che il; 1913, 1954: che ’l. A similar error recurs in 255.

747.

The 1738 gives the entire verse as Da chi morir mi vede, e non n’ ha cura?

748.

1738: ch’ io mi sfaccia.

749.

The beloved lord of previous madrigals.

SERIES EDITORS’ BIBLIOGRAPHY

PR I M A RY S OU R CES

Agnesi, Maria Gaetana, Giuseppa Eleonora Barbapiccola, Diamante Medaglia Faini, Aretafila Savini de’ Rossi, and the Accademia de’ Ricovrati. The Contest for Knowledge. Ed. and trans. Rebecca Messbarger and Paula Findlen. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Agrippa, Henricus Cornelius. Declamation on the Nobility and Preeminence of the Female Sex. Ed. and trans. Albert Rabil Jr. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Alberti, Leon Battista. The Family in Renaissance Florence. Trans. Renée Neu Watkins. Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina Press, 1969. Aragona, Tullia d’. Dialogue on the Infinity of Love. Ed. and trans. Rinaldina Russell and Bruce Merry. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Arenal, Electa, and Stacey Schlau, eds. Untold Sisters: Hispanic Nuns in Their Own Works. Trans. Amanda Powell. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1989. Astell, Mary (1666–1731). The First English Feminist: Reflections on Marriage and Other Writings. Ed. Bridget Hill. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1986. Astell, Mary, and John Norris. Letters concerning the Love of God. Ed. E. Derek Taylor and Melvyn New. The Early Modern Englishwoman, 1500–1750: Contemporary Editions. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Atherton, Margaret, ed. Women Philosophers of the Early Modern Period. Indianapolis, IN: Hackett, 1994. Aughterson, Kate, ed. Renaissance Woman: Constructions of Femininity in England: A Source Book. London: Routledge, 1995. Barbaro, Francesco. On Wifely Duties. Trans. Benjamin Kohl. In The Earthly Republic, ed. Kohl and R. G. Witt, 179–228. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1978. Battiferra degli Ammannati, Laura. Laura Battiferra and her Literary Circle. Ed. and trans. Victoria Kirkham. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Behn, Aphra. The Works of Aphra Behn. Ed. Janet Todd. 7 vols. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1992–96.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Bigolina, Giulia. Urania: A Romance. Ed. and trans. Valeria Finucci. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Bisha, Robin, Jehanne M. Gheith, Christine Holden, and William G. Wagner, eds. Russian Women, 1698–1917: Experience and Expression: An Anthology of Sources. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2002. Blamires, Alcuin, ed. Woman Defamed and Woman Defended: An Anthology of Medieval Texts. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992. Boccaccio, Giovanni. Corbaccio or the Labyrinth of Love. Trans. Anthony K. Cassell. 2nd rev. ed. Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1993. ———. Famous Women. Ed. and trans. Virginia Brown. I Tatti Renaissance Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001. Booy, David, ed. Autobiographical Writings by Early Quaker Women. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Brown, Judith. Immodest Acts: The Life of a Lesbian Nun in Renaissance Italy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Brown, Sylvia, ed. Women’s Writing in Stuart England: The Mother’s Legacies of Dorothy Leigh, Elizabeth Joscelin and Elizabeth Richardson. Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucester: Sutton, 1999. Bruni, Leonardo. “On the Study of Literature (1405) to Lady Battista Malatesta of Moltefeltro.” In The Humanism of Leonardo Bruni: Selected Texts, trans. and intro. by Gordon Griffiths, James Hankins, and David Thompson, 240–51. Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Studies and Texts, 1987. Caminer Turra, Elisabetta. Selected Writings of an Eighteenth-Century Venetian Woman of Letters. Ed. and trans. Catherine M. Sama. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Campiglia, Maddalena. Flori: A Pastoral Drama: A Bilingual Edition. Ed., intro., and notes by Virginia Cox and Lisa Sampson. Trans. Virginia Cox. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Castiglione, Baldassare. The Book of the Courtier. Trans. George Bull. New York: Penguin, 1967. ———. The Book of the Courtier. Ed. Daniel Javitch. New York: W. W. Norton, 2002. Cereta, Laura. Collected Letters of a Renaissance Feminist. Ed. and trans. Diana Robin. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Christine de Pizan. The Book of the City of Ladies. Trans. Earl Jeffrey Richards. Foreword by Marina Warner. New York: Persea Books, 1982. ———. Epistre au dieu d’Amours. Ed. and trans. Thelma S. Fenster. In Poems of Cupid, God of Love, ed. Thelma S. Fenster and Mary Carpenter Erler. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1990. ———. A Medieval Woman’s Mirror of Honor: The Treasury of the City of Ladies. Trans. Charity Cannon Willard. Ed. Madeleine P. Cosman. New York: Persea Books, 1989. ———. The Treasure of the City of Ladies. Trans. Sarah Lawson. New York: Viking Penguin, 1985. Clarke, Danielle, ed. Isabella Whitney, Mary Sidney, and Aemilia Lanyer: Renaissance Women Poets. New York: Penguin Books, 2000. Coignard, Gabrielle de. Spiritual Sonnets: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Melanie E. Gregg. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Colonna, Vittoria. Sonnets for Michelangelo: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Abigail Brundin. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Couchman, Jane, and Ann Crabb, eds. Women’s Letters across Europe, 1400–1700. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Crawford, Patricia, and Laura Gowing, eds. Women’s Worlds in Seventeenth-Century England: A Source Book. London: Routledge, 2000. Daybell, James, ed. Early Modern Women’s Letter Writing, 1450–1700. Houndmills, England: Palgrave, 2001. Dentière, Marie. Epistle to Marguerite de Navarre and Preface to a Sermon by John Calvin. Ed. and trans. Mary B. McKinley. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Elisabeth of Bohemia, Princess, and René Descartes. The Correspondence between Princess Elisabeth of Bohemia and René Descartes. Ed. and trans. Lisa Shapiro. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Elizabeth I. Elizabeth I: Collected Works. Ed. Leah S. Marcus, Janel Mueller, and Mary Beth Rose. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Elyot, Thomas. Defence of Good Women: The Feminist Controversy of the Renaissance. Ed. Diane Bornstein. New York: Delmar, 1980. Erasmus, Desiderius. Erasmus on Women. Ed. Erika Rummel. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996. Erauso, Catalina de. Lieutenant Nun: Memoir of a Basque Transvestite in the New World. Trans. Michele Stepto and Gabriel Stepto. Foreword by Marjorie Garber. Boston: Beacon Press, 1995. Fedele, Cassandra. Letters and Orations. Ed. and trans. Diana Robin. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Ferguson, Moira, ed. First Feminists: British Women Writers, 1578–1799. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985. Ferrazzi, Cecilia. Autobiography of an Aspiring Saint. Ed. and trans. Anne Jacobson Schutte. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. The Fifteen Joys of Marriage. Trans. Elizabeth Abbott. New York: Orion Press, 1959. Folger Collective on Early Women Critics. Women Critics, 1660–1820: An Anthology. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995. Fonte, Moderata (Modesta Pozzo). Floridoro: A Chivalric Romance. Ed. and intro. by Valeria Finucci. Trans. Julia Kisacky. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. ———. The Worth of Women. Ed. and trans. Virginia Cox. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. Francisca de los Apóstoles. The Inquisition of Francisca: A Sixteenth-Century Visionary on Trial. Ed. and trans. Gillian T. W. Ahlgren. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Franco, Veronica. Poems and Selected Letters. Ed. and trans. Ann Rosalind Jones and Margaret F. Rosenthal. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Galilei, Maria Celeste. Galileo’s Daughter: A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith, and Love. Trans. Dava Sobel. New York: Penguin Books, 1999.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography ———. Sister Maria Celeste’s Letters to Her Father, Galileo. Ed. and trans. Rinaldina Russell. Lincoln, NE: Writers Club Press of Universe.com, 2000. ———. To Father: The Letters of Sister Maria Celeste to Galileo, 1623–1633. Trans. Dava Sobel. London: Fourth Estate, 2001. Gethner, Perry, ed. The Lunatic Lover and Other Plays by French Women of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann, 1994. Glückel of Hameln. The Memoirs of Glückel of Hameln. Trans. Marvin Lowenthal. New intro.by Robert Rosen. New York: Schocken Books, 1977. Gournay, Marie le Jars de. Apology for the Woman Writing and Other Works. Ed. and trans. Richard Hillman and Colette Quesnel. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Grimmelshausen, Johann. The Life of Courage: The Notorious Thief, Whore and Vagabond. Trans. and intro. Mike Mitchell. Gardena, CA: SCB Distributors, 2001. Grumbach, Argula von. Argula von Grumbach: A Woman’s Voice in the Reformation. Ed. and trans. Peter Matheson. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1995. Guasco, Annibal. Discourse to Lady Lavinia His Daughter. Ed. and trans. Peggy Osborn. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Guevara, María de. Warnings to the Kings and Advice on Restoring Spain: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Nieves Romero-Díaz. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Harline, Craig, ed. The Burdens of Sister Margaret: Inside a Seventeenth-Century Convent. Abridged ed. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000. Haselkorn, Anne M., and Betty S. Travitsky, eds. The Renaissance Englishwoman in Print: Counterbalancing the Canon. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1990. Henderson, Katherine Usher, and Barbara F. McManus, eds. Half Humankind: Contexts and Texts of the Controversy about Women in England, 1540–1640. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1985. Hill, Bridget, ed. Eighteenth-Century Women: An Anthology. London: George Allen and Unwin, 1984. Hobbins, Daniel, trans. The Trial of Joan of Arc. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2005. Hoby, Margaret. The Private Life of an Elizabethan Lady: The Diary of Lady Margaret Hoby, 1599–1605. Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton, 1998. Houlbrooke, Ralph, ed. Family Life in Early Modern England: An Anthology of Contemporary Accounts, 1576–1716. London: Blackwells, 1988. Joscelin, Elizabeth. The Mothers Legacy to Her Unborn Childe. Ed. Jean leDrew Metcalfe. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2000. Julian of Norwich. Revelations of Divine Love. Trans. Elizabeth Spearing. Introduction and notes by A. C. Spearing. New York: Penguin Books, 1998. Jussie, Jeanne de. The Short Chronicle. Ed. and trans. Carrie F. Klaus. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Kallendorf, Craig W., ed. and trans. Humanist Educational Treatises. I Tatti Renaissance Library. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2002. Kaminsky, Amy Katz, ed. Water Lilies, Flores del agua: An Anthology of Spanish Women Writers from the Fifteenth through the Nineteenth Century. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Kempe, Margery. The Book of Margery Kempe. Trans. John Skinner. New York: Doubleday, 1998. ———. The Book of Margery Kempe. Ed. and trans. Lynn Staley. Norton Critical Edition. New York: W. W. Norton, 2001. ———. The Book of Margery Kempe. Trans. B. A. Windeatt. New York: Penguin Books, 1985. King, Margaret L., and Albert Rabil Jr., eds. Her Immaculate Hand: Selected Works by and about the Women Humanists of Quattrocento Italy. Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1983; second revised paperback edition, 1991. Klein, Joan Larsen, ed. Daughters, Wives, and Widows: Writings by Men about Women and Marriage in England, 1500–1640. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1992. Knox, John. The Political Writings of John Knox: The First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment of Women and Other Selected Works. Ed. Marvin A. Breslow. Washington, DC: Folger Shakespeare Library, 1985. Kors, Alan C., and Edward Peters, eds. Witchcraft in Europe, 400–1700: A Documentary History. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2000. ———. Witchcraft in Europe, 1100–1700: A Documentary History. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1972. Kottanner, Helene. The Memoirs of Helene Kottanner, 1439–1440. Trans. Maya B. Williamson. Library of Medieval Women. Rochester, NY: Boydell & Brewer, 1998. Krämer, Heinrich, and Jacob Sprenger. Malleus Maleficarum. Trans. Montague Summers. London: Pushkin Press, 1928; reprint, New York: Dover, 1971. Labé, Louise. Complete Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and intro. by Deborah Lesko Baker. Trans. Annie Finch. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Lafayette, Marie-Madeleine Pioche de La Vergne, Comtesse de. Zayde: A Spanish Romance. Ed. and trans. Nicholas D. Paige. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Larsen, Anne R., and Colette H. Winn, eds. Writings by Pre-Revolutionary French Women: From Marie de France to Elizabeth Vigée-Le Brun. New York: Garland, 2000. L’Aubespine, Madeleine de. Selected Poems and Translations: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Anna Kłosowska. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Lock, Anne Vaughan. The Collected Works of Anne Vaughan Lock. Ed. Susan M. Felch. Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 185; English Text Society, 21. Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 1999. Lorris, William de, and Jean de Meun. The Romance of the Rose. Trans. Charles Dahlbert. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971; reprint, University Press of New England, 1983. Mahl, Mary R., and Helene Koon, eds. The Female Spectator: English Women Writers before 1800. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1977; Old Westbury, NY: Feminist Press, 1977. Maintenon, Madame de. Dialogues and Addresses. Ed. and trans. John J. Conley, SJ. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Marguerite d’Angoulême, Queen of Navarre. The Heptameron. Trans. P. A. Chilton. New York: Viking Penguin, 1984.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Marinella, Lucrezia. The Nobility and Excellence of Women and the Defects and Vices of Men. Ed. and trans. Anne Dunhill. Introduction by Letizia Panizza. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Mary of Agreda. The Divine Life of the Most Holy Virgin. Abridgment of The Mystical City of God. Abridged by Fr. Bonaventure Amedeo de Caesarea, MC. Trans. from French by Abbé Joseph A. Boullan. Rockford, IL: Tan Books, 1997. Matraini, Chiara. Selected Poetry and Prose: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. and trans. Elaine Maclachlan. Introduction by Giovanna Rabitti. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. McWebb, Christine, ed. Debating the “Roman de la rose”: A Critical Anthology. New York: Routledge, 2007. Medici, Lucrezia Tornabuoni de’. Sacred Narratives. Ed. and trans. Jane Tylus. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001. Montpensier, Anne-Marie-Louise de, Duchesse d’Orléans. Against Marriage: The Correspondence of La Grande Mademoiselle. Ed. and trans. Joan DeJean. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Moore, Dorothy. The Letters of Dorothy Moore, 1612–64: The Friendships, Marriage, and Intellectual Life of a Seventeenth-Century Woman. Ed. Lynette Hunter. The Early Modern Englishwoman, 1500–1750: Contemporary Editions. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2004. Morata, Olympia. The Complete Writings of an Italian Heretic. Ed. and trans. Holt N. Parker. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Mullan, David George. Women’s Life Writing in Early Modern Scotland: Writing the Evangelical Self, c. 1670–c. 1730. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003. Myers, Kathleen A., and Amanda Powell, eds. A Wild Country Out in the Garden: The Spiritual Journals of a Colonial Mexican Nun. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1999. Nogarola, Isotta. Complete Writings: Letterbook, Dialogue on Adam and Eve, Orations. Ed. and trans. Margaret L. King and Diana Robin. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. O’Malley, Susan Gushee, ed. “Custome Is an Idiot”: Jacobean Pamphlet Literature on Women. Afterword by Ann Rosalind Jones. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2004. Ostovich, Helen, and Elizabeth Sauer, eds. Reading Early Modern Women: An Anthology of Texts in Manuscript and Print, 1550–1700. New York: Routledge, 2004. Ozment, Steven. Magdalena and Balthasar: An Intimate Portrait of Life in Sixteenth-Century Europe Revealed in the Letters of a Nuremberg Husband and Wife. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986; reprint, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Pascal, Jacqueline. A Rule for Children and Other Writings. Ed. and trans. John J. Conley, SJ. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Petersen, Johanna Eleonora. The Life of Lady Johanna Eleonora Petersen, Written by Herself. Ed. and trans. Barbara Becker-Cantarino. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Poullain de la Barre, François. Three Cartesian Feminist Treatises. Ed. Marcelle Maistre Welch. Trans. Vivien Bosley. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Pulci, Antonia. Florentine Drama for Convent and Festival. Ed. and trans. James Wyatt Cook. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Riccoboni, Sister Bartolomea. Life and Death in a Venetian Convent: The Chronicle and Necrology of Corpus Domini, 1395–1436. Ed. and trans. Daniel Bornstein. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Roches, Madeleine and Catherine des. From Mother and Daughter. Ed. and trans. Anne R. Larsen. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Salazar, María de San José. Book for the Hour of Recreation. Ed. Alison Weber. Trans. Amanda Powell. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Sarrocchi, Margherita. Scanderbeide: The Heroic Deeds of George Scanderbeg, King of Epirus. Ed. and trans. Rinaldina Russell. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Schurman, Anna Maria van. Whether a Christian Woman Should be Educated and Other Writings from Her Intellectual Circle. Ed. and trans. Joyce L. Irwin. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. Schütz Zell, Katharina. Church Mother: The Writings of a Protestant Reformer in SixteenthCentury Germany. Ed. and trans. Elsie McKee. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Scudéry, Madeleine de. Selected Letters, Orations, and Rhetorical Dialogues. Ed. and trans. Jane Donawerth and Julie Strongson. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. ———. The Story of Sappho. Ed. and trans. Karen Newman. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Shepherd, Simon, ed. The Woman’s Sharp Revenge: Five Women’s Pamphlets from the Renaissance. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1985. Sidney, Robert, and Barbara Gamage Sidney. Domestic Politics and Family Absence: The Correspondence (1588–1621) of Robert Sidney, First Earl of Leicester, and Barbara Gamage Sidney, Countess of Leicester. Ed. Margaret P. Hannay, Noel J. Kinnamon, and Michael G. Brennan. The Early Modern Englishwoman, 1500–1750: Contemporary Editions. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2005. Siegemund, Justine. The Court Midwife. Ed. and trans. Lynne Tatlock. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Tarabotti, Arcangela. Paternal Tyranny. Ed. and trans. Letizia Panizza. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Teresa of Avila, Saint. The Collected Letters of St. Teresa of Avila, vol. 1: 1546–1577. Trans. Kieran Kavanaugh. Washington, DC: Institute of Carmelite Studies, 2001. Volume 2 is forthcoming. ———. The Life of Saint Teresa of Avila by Herself. Trans. J. M. Cohen. New York: Viking Penguin, 1957. Tilney, Edmund. The Flower of Friendship: A Renaissance Dialogue Contesting Marriage. Ed. Valerie Wayne. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993. Travitsky, Betty, ed. The Paradise of Women: Writings by Englishwomen of the Renaissance. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1981. Travitsky, Betty, and Anne Lake Prescott, eds. Female and Male Voices in Early Modern

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Series Editors’ Bibliography England: An Anthology of Renaissance Writing. New York: Columbia University Press, 2000. Villedieu, Madame de. Memoirs of the Life of Henriette-Sylvie de Molière: A Novel. Ed. and trans. Donna Kuizenga. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2004. Vives, Juan Luis. The Education of a Christian Woman: A Sixteenth-Century Manual. Ed. and trans. Charles Fantazzi. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Weyer, Johann. Witches, Devils, and Doctors in the Renaissance: Johann Weyer, De praestigiis daemonum. Ed. George Mora with Benjamin G. Kohl, Erik Midelfort, and Helen Bacon. Trans. John Shea. Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1991. Wiesner-Hanks, Merry, ed. Convents Confront the Reformation: Catholic and Protestant Nuns in Germany. Trans. Joan Skocir and Merry Wiesner-Hanks. Women of the Reformation. Milwaukee: Marquette University Press, 1996. Wilson, Katharina M., ed. Medieval Women Writers. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1984. ———, ed. Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1987. Wilson, Katharina M., and Frank J. Warnke, eds. Women Writers of the Seventeenth Century. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1989. Wollstonecraft, Mary. A Vindication of the Rights of Men; with a Vindication of the Rights of Women. Ed. Sylvana Tomaselli. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995. ———. The Vindications of the Rights of Men, The Rights of Women. Ed. D. L. Macdonald and Kathleen Scherf. Peterborough, Ontario, Canada: Broadview Press, 1997. Women Writers in English, 1350–1850. Projected 30-volume series suspended. 15 volumes published. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Wroth, Lady Mary. The Countess of Montgomery’s Urania. Ed. Josephine A. Roberts. 2 parts. Tempe, AZ: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1995, 1999. ———. Lady Mary Wroth’s “Love’s Victory”: The Penshurst Manuscript. Ed. Michael G. Brennan. London: Roxburghe Club, 1988. ———. The Poems of Lady Mary Wroth. Ed. Josephine A. Roberts. Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1983. Zayas y Sotomayor, María de. The Disenchantments of Love. Trans. H. Patsy Boyer. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1997. ———. The Enchantments of Love: Amorous and Exemplary Novels. Trans. H. Patsy Boyer. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990.

S ECON D A RY S OU R C E S

Abate, Corinne S., ed. Privacy, Domesticity, and Women in Early Modern England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Ahlgren, Gillian. Teresa of Avila and the Politics of Sanctity. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1996. Åkerman, Susanna. Queen Christina of Sweden: The Transformation of a Seventeenth-Century Philosophical Libertine. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1991.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Akkerman, Tjitske, and Siep Sturman, eds. Feminist Thought in European History, 1400– 2000. London: Routledge, 1997. Allen, Sister Prudence, RSM. The Concept of Woman: The Aristotelian Revolution, 750 B.C.– A.D. 1250. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 1997. ———. The Concept of Woman, vol. 2: The Early Humanist Reformation, 1250–1500. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans, 2002. Altmann, Barbara K., and Deborah L. McGrady, eds. Christine de Pizan: A Casebook. New York: Routledge, 2003. Amussen, Susan D. An Ordered Society: Gender and Class in Early Modern England. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1988. Amussen, Susan D., and Adele Seeff, eds. Attending to Early Modern Women. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 1998. Anderson, Karen. Chain Her by One Foot: The Subjugation of Women in Seventeenth-Century New France. New York: Routledge, 1991. Andreadis, Harriette. Sappho in Early Modern England: Female Same-Sex Literary Erotics, 1550–1714. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2001. Arcangela Tarabotti: A Literary Nun in Baroque Venice. Ed. Elissa B. Weaver. Ravenna: Longo Editore, 2006. Armon, Shifra. Picking Wedlock: Women and the Courtship Novel in Spain. New York: Rowman & Littlefield, 2002. Atkinson, Clarissa W. Mystic and Pilgrim: The Book and the World of Margery Kempe. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983. Backer, Anne Liot. Precious Women. New York: Basic Books, 1974. Bainton, Roland H. Women of the Reformation in France and England. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1973. ———. Women of the Reformation in Germany and Italy. Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1971. Ballaster, Ros. Seductive Forms. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Barash, Carol. English Women’s Poetry, 1649–1714: Politics, Community, and Linguistic Authority. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Bardsley, Sandy. Venomous Tongues: Speech and Gender in Late Medieval England. Middle Ages Series. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006. Barker, Alele Marie, and Jehanne M. Gheith, eds. A History of Women’s Writing in Russia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Barstow, Anne L. Joan of Arc: Heretic, Mystic, Shaman. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1986. Battigelli, Anna. Margaret Cavendish and the Exiles of the Mind. Lexington: University of Kentucky Press, 1998. Beasley, Faith. Revising Memory: Women’s Fiction and Memoirs in Seventeenth-Century France. New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1990. ———. Salons, History, and the Creation of Seventeenth-Century France. Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006. Becker, Lucinda M. Death and the Early Modern Englishwoman. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Beilin, Elaine V. Redeeming Eve: Women Writers of the English Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987. Bell, Rudolph M. Holy Anorexia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985. Bennett, Lyn. Women Writing of Divinest Things: Rhetoric and the Poetry of Pembroke, Wroth, and Lanyer. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 2004.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Benson, Pamela Joseph. The Invention of Renaissance Woman: The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and Thought of Italy and England. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992. Benson, Pamela Joseph, and Victoria Kirkham, eds. Strong Voices, Weak History? Medieval and Renaissance Women in Their Literary Canons: England, France, Italy. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2003. Berman, Constance H., ed. Women and Monasticism in Medieval Europe: Sisters and Patrons of the Cistercian Reform. Kalamazoo: Western Michigan University Press, 2002. Berry, Helen. Gender, Society and Print Culture in Late Stuart England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Berry, Philippa. Of Chastity and Power: Elizabethan Literature and the Unmarried Queen. New York: Routledge, 1989. Bicks, Caroline. Midwiving Subjects in Shakespeare’s England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Bilinkoff, Jodi. The Avila of Saint Teresa: Religious Reform in a Sixteenth-Century City. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1989. ———. Related Lives: Confessors and Their Female Penitents, 1450–1750. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2005. Bissell, R. Ward. Artemisia Gentileschi and the Authority of Art. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2000. Blain, Virginia, Isobel Grundy, and Patricia Clements, eds. The Feminist Companion to Literature in English: Women Writers from the Middle Ages to the Present. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1990. Blamires, Alcuin. The Case for Women in Medieval Culture. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997. Bloch, R. Howard. Medieval Misogyny and the Invention of Western Romantic Love. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Blumenfeld-Kosinski, Renate. Not of Woman Born: Representations of Caesarean Birth in Medieval and Renaissance Culture. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990. Bogucka, Maria. Women in Early Modern Polish Society, Against the European Background. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Bornstein, Daniel, and Roberto Rusconi, eds. Women and Religion in Medieval and Renaissance Italy. Trans. Margery J. Schneider. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996. Brant, Clare, and Diane Purkiss, eds. Women, Texts, and Histories, 1575–1760. London: Routledge, 1992. Breisach, Ernst. Caterina Sforza: A Renaissance Virago. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1967. Bridenthal, Renate, Claudia Koonz, and Susan M. Stuard. Becoming Visible: Women in European History. 3d ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998. Briggs, Robin. Witches and Neighbours: The Social and Cultural Context of European Witchcraft. New York: HarperCollins, 1995; Viking Penguin, 1996. Brink, Jean R., ed. Female Scholars: A Tradition of Learned Women before 1800. Montréal: Eden Press Women’s Publications, 1980. Brink, Jean R., Allison Coudert, and Maryanne Cline Horowitz. The Politics of Gender in Early Modern Europe. Sixteenth Century Essays and Studies, 12. Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1989.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Broad, Jacqueline S. Women Philosophers of the Seventeenth Century. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002; reprint, 2007. Broad, Jacqueline S., and Karen Green. A History of Women’s Political Thought in Europe, 1400–1700. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. ———, eds. Virtue, Liberty, and Toleration: Political Ideas of European Women, 1400–1700. Dordrecht: Springer, 2007. Brodsky, Vivien. Mobility and Marriage: The Family and Kinship in Early Modern London. London: Blackwells, 1988. Broude, Norma, and Mary D. Garrard, eds. The Expanding Discourse: Feminism and Art History. New York: HarperCollins, 1992. Brown, Judith C. Immodest Acts: The Life of a Lesbian Nun in Renaissance Italy. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Brown, Judith C., and Robert C. Davis, eds. Gender and Society in Renaissance Italy. London: Addison Wesley Longman, 1998. Brown, Pamela Allen, and Peter Parolin, eds. Women Players in England, 1500–1660: Beyond the All-Male Stage. Brookfield: Ashgate, 2005. Brown-Grant, Rosalind. Christine de Pizan and the Moral Defence of Women: Reading Beyond Gender. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Brucker, Gene. Giovanni and Lusanna: Love and Marriage in Renaissance Florence. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1986. Burke, Victoria E., ed. Early Modern Women’s Manuscript Writing. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Burns, Jane E., ed. Medieval Fabrications: Dress, Textiles, Cloth Work, and Other Cultural Imaginings. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Bynum, Carolyn Walker. Fragmentation and Redemption: Essays on Gender and the Human Body in Medieval Religion. New York: Zone Books, 1992. ———. Holy Feast and Holy Fast: The Religious Significance of Food to Medieval Women. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. ———. Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1982. Cahn, Susan. Industry of Devotion: The Transformation of Women’s Work in England, 1500– 1660. New York: Columbia University Press, 1987. Callaghan, Dympna, ed. The Impact of Feminism in English Renaissance Studies. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Campbell, Julie DeLynn. “Renaissance Women Writers: The Beloved Speaks Her Part.” Ph.D diss., Texas A & M University, 1997. Catling, Jo, ed. A History of Women’s Writing in Germany, Austria, and Switzerland. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Cavallo, Sandra, and Lyndan Warner, eds. Widowhood in Medieval and Early Modern Europe. New York: Longman, 1999. Cavanagh, Sheila T. Cherished Torment: The Emotional Geography of Lady Mary Wroth’s Urania. Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 2001. Cerasano, S. P., and Marion Wynne-Davies, eds. Readings in Renaissance Women’s Drama: Criticism, History, and Performance, 1594–1998. London: Routledge, 1998. Cervigni, Dino S., ed. Women Mystic Writers. Annali d’Italianistica 13 (1995). Cervigni, Dino S., and Rebecca West, eds. Women’s Voices in Italian Literature. Annali d’Italianistica 7 (1989).

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Charlton, Kenneth. Women, Religion, and Education in Early Modern England. London: Routledge, 1999. Chojnacka, Monica. Working Women of Early Modern Venice. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001. Chojnacki, Stanley. Women and Men in Renaissance Venice: Twelve Essays on Patrician Society. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000. Cholakian, Patricia Francis, and Rouben Charles Cholakian. Marguerite de Navarre: Mother of the Renaissance. New York: Columbia University Press, 2006. Cholakian, Patricia Francis. Rape and Writing in the Heptameron of Marguerite de Navarre. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1991. ———. Women and the Politics of Self-Representation in Seventeenth-Century France. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2000. Clogan, Paul Maruice, ed. Medievali et Humanistica: Literacy and the Lay Reader. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield, 2000. Clubb, Louise George. Italian Drama in Shakespeare’s Time. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1989. Clucas, Stephen, ed. A Princely Brave Woman: Essays on Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Coakley, John W. Women, Men, and Spiritual Power: Female Saints and Their Male Collaborators. New York: Columbia University Press, 2006. Conley, John J., SJ. The Suspicion of Virtue: Women Philosophers in Neoclassical France. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2002. Cook, Ann Jennalie. Making a Match: Courtship in Shakespeare and His Society. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. Cox, Virginia. Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400–1650. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008. Crabb, Ann. The Strozzi of Florence: Widowhood and Family Solidarity in the Renaissance. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000. Crawford, Patricia. Women and Religion in England, 1500–1750. London: Routledge, 1993. Crowston, Clare Haru. Fabricating Women: The Seamstresses of Old Regime France, 1675– 1791. Durham: Duke University Press, 2001. Cruz, Anne J., and Mary Elizabeth Perry, eds. Culture and Control in Counter-Reformation Spain. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992. Datta, Satya. Women and Men in Early Modern Venice. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Davis, Natalie Zemon. Society and Culture in Early Modern France. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1975. ———. Women on the Margins: Three Seventeenth-Century Lives. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1995. Davis, Natalie Zemon, and Arlette Farge, eds. Renaissance and Enlightenment Paradoxes. Vol. 3 of A History of Women in the West. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993. Dean, Trevor, and K. J. P. Lowe, eds. Marriage in Italy, 1300–1650. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. DeJean, Joan. Ancients against Moderns: Culture Wars and the Making of a Fin de Siècle. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997. ———. Fictions of Sappho, 1546–1937. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989.

Series Editors’ Bibliography ———. The Reinvention of Obscenity: Sex, Lies, and Tabloids in Early Modern France. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. ———. Tender Geographies: Women and the Origins of the Novel in France. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. D’Elia, Anthony F. The Renaissance of Marriage in Fifteenth-Century Italy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2004. Demers, Patricia. Women’s Writing in English: Early Modern England. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2005. Diefendorf, Barbara. From Penitence to Charity: Pious Women and the Catholic Reformation in Paris. New York: Oxford University Press, 2004. Dinan, Susan E. Women and Poor Relief in Seventeenth-Century France: The Early History of the Daughters of Charity. Women and Gender in the Early Modern World. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. Dixon, Laurinda S. Perilous Chastity: Women and Illness in Pre-Enlightenment Art and Medicine. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995. Dolan, Frances, E. Whores of Babylon: Catholicism, Gender, and Seventeenth-Century Print Culture. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1999. Donovan, Josephine. Women and the Rise of the Novel, 1405–1726. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999. Dreher, Diane Elizabeth. Domination and Defiance: Fathers and Daughters in Shakespeare. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1986. Dyan, Elliott. Proving Woman: Female Spirituality and Inquisitional Culture in the Later Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004. Eccles, Audrey. Obstetrics and Gynaecology in Tudor and Stuart England. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1982. Eigler, Friederike, and Susanne Kord, eds. The Feminist Encyclopedia of German Literature. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1997. Emerson, Kathy Lynn. Wives and Daughters: The Women of Sixteenth-Century England. Troy, NY: Whitson, 1984. Erdmann, Axel. My Gracious Silence: Women in the Mirror of Sixteenth-Century Printing in Western Europe. Lucerne: Gilhofer and Rauschberg, 1999. Erickson, Amy Louise. Women and Property in Early Modern England. London: Routledge, 1993. Evangelisti, Silvia. Nuns: A History of Convent Life, 1450–1700. New York: Oxford University Press, 2007. Ezell, Margaret J. M. The Patriarch’s Wife: Literary Evidence and the History of the Family. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1987. ———. Social Authorship and the Advent of Print. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999. ———. Writing Women’s Literary History. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993. Farrell, Michèle Longino. Performing Motherhood: The Sévigné Correspondence. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1991. Ferguson, Margaret W. Dido’s Daughters: Literacy, Gender, and Empire in Early Modern England and France. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003. Ferguson, Margaret W., Maureen Quilligan, and Nancy J. Vickers, eds. Rewriting the

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Difference in Early Modern Europe. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987. Feroli, Teresa. Political Speaking Justified: Women Prophets and the English Revolution. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2006. Ferraro, Joanne M. Marriage Wars in Late Renaissance Venice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Fisher, Will. Materializing Gender in Early Modern English Literature and Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Flandrin, Jean-Louis. Families in Former Times: Kinship, Household, and Sexuality in Early Modern France. Trans. Richard Southern. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. Fletcher, Anthony. Gender, Sex, and Subordination in England, 1500–1800. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995. ———. Growing Up in England: The Experience of Childhood, 1600–1914. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2008. Franklin, Margaret. Boccaccio’s Heroines: Power and Virtue in Renaissance Society. Women and Gender in the Early Modern World. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. Froide, Amy M. Never Married: Singlewomen in Early Modern England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. Frye, Susan, and Karen Robertson, eds. Maids and Mistresses, Cousins and Queens: Women’s Alliances in Early Modern England. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999. Gallagher, Catherine. Nobody’s Story: The Vanishing Acts of Women Writers in the Marketplace, 1670–1820. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994. Garrard, Mary D. Artemisia Gentileschi: The Image of the Female Hero in Italian Baroque Art. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989. Gelbart, Nina Rattner. The King’s Midwife: A History and Mystery of Madame du Coudray. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. George, Margaret. Women in the First Capitalist Society: Experiences in Seventeenth-Century England. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1988. Gibson, Wendy. Women in Seventeenth-Century France. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1989. Gies, Frances. Joan of Arc: The Legend and the Reality. New York: Harper & Row, 1981. Giles, Mary E., ed. Women in the Inquisition: Spain and the New World. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999. Gill, Catie. Women in the Seventeenth-Century Quaker Community. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2005. Glenn, Cheryl. Rhetoric Retold: Regendering the Tradition from Antiquity through the Renaissance. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1997. Goffen, Rona. Titian’s Women. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1997. Goldberg, Jonathan. Desiring Women Writing: English Renaissance Examples. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997. Goldsmith, Elizabeth C. Exclusive Conversations: The Art of Interaction in Seventeenth-Century France. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988. ———, ed. Writing the Female Voice. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1989. Goldsmith, Elizabeth C., and Dena Goodman, eds. Going Public: Women and Publishing in Early Modern France. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Grafton, Anthony, and Lisa Jardine. From Humanism to the Humanities: Education and the Liberal Arts in Fifteenth- and Sixteenth-Century Europe. London: Duckworth, 1986. Grassby, Richard. Kinship and Capitalism: Marriage, Family, and Business in the EnglishSpeaking World, 1580–1740. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. Greer, Margaret Rich. Maria de Zayas Tells Baroque Tales of Love and the Cruelty of Men. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2000. Grossman, Avraham. Pious and Rebellious: Jewish Women in Medieval Europe. Trans. Jonathan Chipman. Waltham: Brandeis/University Press of New England, 2004. Gutierrez, Nancy A. ”Shall She Famish Then?” Female Food Refusal in Early Modern England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Habermann, Ina. Staging Slander and Gender in Early Modern England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Hacke, Daniela. Women, Sex, and Marriage in Early Modern Venice. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Hackel, Heidi Brayman. Reading Material in Early Modern England: Print, Gender, Literacy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005. Hackett, Helen. Women and Romance Fiction in the English Renaissance. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Haigh, Christopher. Elizabeth I. London: Longman, 1988. Hall, Kim F. Things of Darkness: Economies of Race and Gender in Early Modern England. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1995. Hamburger, Jeffrey. The Visual and the Visionary: Art and Female Spirituality in Late Medieval Germany. New York: Zone Books, 1998. Hampton, Timothy. Literature and the Nation in the Sixteenth Century: Inventing Renaissance France. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2001. Hanawalt, Barbara A. Women and Work in Pre-Industrial Europe. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1986. Hannay, Margaret, ed. Silent but for the Word. Kent, OH: Kent State University Press, 1985. Hardwick, Julie. The Practice of Patriarchy: Gender and the Politics of Household Authority in Early Modern France. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998. Harness, Kelley Ann. Echoes of Women’s Voices: Music, Art, and Female Patronage in Early Modern Florence. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Harris, Barbara J. English Aristocratic Women, 1450–1550: Marriage and Family, Property and Careers. New York: Oxford University Press, 2002. Harth, Erica. Cartesian Women. Versions and Subversions of Rational Discourse in the Old Regime. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1992. ———. Ideology and Culture in Seventeenth-Century France. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1983. Harvey, Elizabeth D. Ventriloquized Voices: Feminist Theory and English Renaissance Texts. London: Routledge, 1992. Hawkesworth, Celia, ed. A History of Central European Women’s Writing. New York: Palgrave Press, 2001. Hegstrom, Valerie, and Amy R. Williamsen, eds. Engendering the Early Modern Stage: Women Playwrights in the Spanish Empire. New Orleans: University Press of the South, 1999.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Heller, Wendy. Emblems of Eloquence: Opera and Women’s Voices in Seventeenth-Century Venice. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2004. Hendricks, Margo, and Patricia Parker, eds. Women, “Race,” and Writing in the Early Modern Period. London: Routledge, 1994. Herlihy, David. “Did Women Have a Renaissance? A Reconsideration.” Medievalia et Humanistica, n.s., 13 (1985): 1–22. Hibbert, Christopher. The Virgin Queen: Elizabeth I, Genius of the Golden Age. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1991. Hill, Bridget. The Republican Virago: The Life and Times of Catharine Macaulay, Historian. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992. Hills, Helen, ed. Architecture and the Politics of Gender in Early Modern Europe. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Hirst, Jilie. Jane Leade: Biography of a Seventeenth-Century Mystic. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. Hobby, Elaine. Virtue of Necessity: English Women’s Writing, 1646–1688. London: Virago Press, 1988. Hogrefe, Pearl. Women of Action in Tudor England: Nine Biographical Sketches. Ames: Iowa State University Press, 1977. Hopkins, Lisa. Women Who Would Be Kings: Female Rulers of the Sixteenth Century. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991. Horowitz, Maryanne Cline. “Aristotle and Women.” Journal of the History of Biology 9 (1976): 183–213. Houlbrooke, Ralph A. Death, Religion, and the Family in England, 1480–1760. Oxford Studies in Social History. New York: Oxford University Press, 1998. Howe, Elizabeth. The First English Actresses: Women and Drama, 1660–1700. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Howell, Martha C. The Marriage Exchange: Property, Social Place, and Gender in Cities of the Low Countries, 1300–1550. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998. ———. Women, Production, and Patriarchy in Late Medieval Cities. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Hufton, Olwen H. The Prospect before Her: A History of Women in Western Europe, vol. 1: 1500–1800. New York: HarperCollins, 1996. Hull, Suzanne W. Chaste, Silent, and Obedient: English Books for Women, 1475–1640. San Marino, CA: Huntington Library, 1982. Hunt, Lynn, ed. The Invention of Pornography: Obscenity and the Origins of Modernity, 1500– 1800. New York: Zone Books, 1996. Hurlburt, Holly S. The Dogaressa of Venice, 1200–1500: Wife and Icon. New Middle Ages. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006. Hutner, Heidi, ed. Rereading Aphra Behn: History, Theory, and Criticism. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1993. Hutson, Lorna, ed. Feminism and Renaissance Studies. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. Ingram, Martin. Church Courts, Sex and Marriage in England, 1570–1640. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987. Ives, E. W. Anne Boleyn. London: Blackwells, 1988. Jaffe, Irma B., with Gernando Colombardo. Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets. New York: Fordham University Press, 2002.

Series Editors’ Bibliography James, Susan E. Kateryn Parr: The Making of a Queen. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 1999. Jankowski, Theodora A. Women in Power in the Early Modern Drama. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1992. Jansen, Katherine Ludwig. The Making of the Magdalen: Preaching and Popular Devotion in the Later Middle Ages. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Jardine, Lisa. Still Harping on Daughters: Women and Drama in the Age of Shakespeare. Totowa, NJ: Barnes and Noble, 1983. Jed, Stephanie H. Chaste Thinking: The Rape of Lucretia and the Birth of Humanism. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989. Jones, Ann Rosalind. The Currency of Eros: Women’s Love Lyric in Europe, 1540–1620. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1990. Jones, Ann Rosalind, and Peter Stallybrass. Renaissance Clothing and the Materials of Memory. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Jones, Michael K., and Malcolm G. Underwood. The King’s Mother: Lady Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richymond and Derby. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Jordan, Constance. Renaissance Feminism: Literary Texts and Political Models. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990. Kagan, Richard L. Lucrecia’s Dreams: Politics and Prophecy in Sixteenth-Century Spain. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1990. Karant-Nunn, Susan C., and Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks, eds. Luther on Women: A Sourcebook. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Kehler, Dorothea, and Laurel Amtower, eds. The Single Woman in Medieval and Early Modern England: Her Life and Representation. Tempe, AZ: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 2002. Kelly, Joan. “Did Women Have a Renaissance?” In Women, History, and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984. Also in Becoming Visible: Women in European History, ed. Renate Bridenthal, Claudia Koonz, and Susan M. Stuard. 3rd ed. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998. ———. “Early Feminist Theory and the Querelle des Femmes.” In Women, History, and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984. ———. Women, History, and Theory: The Essays of Joan Kelly. Women in Culture and Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1984. Kelso, Ruth. Doctrine for the Lady of the Renaissance. Foreword by Katharine M. Rogers. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1956, 1978. Kendrick, Robert L. Celestical Sirens: Nuns and Their Music in Early Modern Milan. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Kermode, Jenny, and Garthine Walker, eds. Women, Crime, and the Courts in Early Modern England. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994. King, Catherine E. Renaissance Women Patrons: Wives and Widows in Italy, c. 1300–1550. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1998. King, Margaret L. Women of the Renaissance. Foreword by Catharine R. Stimpson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. King, Thomas A. The Gendering of Men, 1600–1700: The English Phallus. Vol. 1. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 2004. Klapisch-Zuber, Christiane. Women, Family, and Ritual in Renaissance Italy. Trans. Lydia G. Cochrane. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography ———, ed. Silences of the Middle Ages. Vol. 2 of A History of Women in the West. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. Kleiman, Ruth. Anne of Austria, Queen of France. Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1985. Knott, Sarah, and Barbara Taylor. Women, Gender, and Enlightenment. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2005. Kolsky, Stephen. The Ghost of Boccaccio: Writings on Famous Women in Renaissance Italy. Late Medieval and Early Modern Studies 7. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005. Krontiris, Tina. Oppositional Voices: Women as Writers and Translators of Literature in the English Renaissance. London: Routledge, 1992. Kuehn, Thomas. Law, Family, and Women: Toward a Legal Anthropology of Renaissance Italy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Kunze, Bonnelyn Young. Margaret Fell and the Rise of Quakerism. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1994. Labalme, Patricia A., ed. Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past. New York: New York University Press, 1980. Lalande, Roxanne Decker, ed. A Labor of Love: Critical Reflections on the Writings of MarieCatherine Desjardins (Mme de Villedieu). Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2000. Lamb, Mary Ellen. Gender and Authorship in the Sidney Circle. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1990. Laqueur, Thomas. Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1990. Larsen, Anne R., and Colette H. Winn, eds. Renaissance Women Writers: French Texts/ American Contexts. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1994. Laven, Mary. Virgins of Venice: Broken Vows and Cloistered Lives in the Renaissance Convent. New York: Viking, 2003. Ledkovsky, Marina, Charlotte Rosenthal, and Mary Zirin, eds. Dictionary of Russian Women Writers. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1994. Lehfeldt, Elizabeth A. Religious Women in Golden Age Spain: The Permeable Cloister. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2005. Leonard, Amy. Nails in the Wall: Catholic Nuns in Reformation Germany. Women in Culture and Society. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2005. Lerner, Gerda. The Creation of Feminist Consciousness, 1000–1870. New York: Oxford University Press, 1994. ———. The Creation of Patriarchy New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Levack. Brian P. The Witch Hunt in Early Modern Europe. London: Longman, 1987. Levin, Carole, and Jeanie Watson, eds. Ambiguous Realities: Women in the Middle Ages and Renaissance. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1987. Levin, Carole, Jo Eldridge Carney, and Debra Barrett-Graves. Elizabeth I: Always Her Own Free Woman. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Levin, Carole, et al. Extraordinary Women of the Medieval and Renaissance World: A Biographical Dictionary. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2000. Levy, Allison, ed. Widowhood and Visual Culture in Early Modern Europe. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2003. Lewalski, Barbara Kiefer. Writing Women in Jacobean England. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Lewis, Gertrud Jaron. By Women, for Women, about Women: The Sister-Books of FourteenthCentury Germany. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1996. Lewis, Jayne Elizabeth. Mary Queen of Scots: Romance and Nation. London: Routledge, 1998. Lindenauer, Leslie J. Piety and Power: Gender and Religious Culture in the American Colonies, 1630–1700. London: Routledge, 2002. Lindsey, Karen. Divorced, Beheaded, Survived: A Feminist Reinterpretation of the Wives of Henry VIII. Reading, MA: Addison-Wesley, 1995. Liss, Peggy K. Isabel the Queen: Life and Times. Rev. ed. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2004. Loades, David. Mary Tudor: A Life. Cambridge: Basil Blackwell, 1989. Lochrie, Karma. Margery Kempe and Translations of the Flesh. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992. Longfellow, Ewrica. Women and Religious Writing in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Lougee, Carolyn C. Le Paradis des Femmes: Women, Salons, and Social Stratification in Seventeenth-Century France. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1976. Love, Harold. The Culture and Commerce of Texts: Scribal Publication in Seventeenth-Century England. Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 1993. Lowe, K. J. P. Nuns’ Chronicles and Convent Culture in Renaissance and Counter-Reformation Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Lux-Sterritt, Laurence. Redefining Female Religious Life: French Ursulines and English Ladies in Seventeenth-Century Catholicism. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2005. MacCarthy, Bridget G. The Female Pen: Women Writers and Novelists, 1621–1818. Preface by Janet Todd. New York: New York University Press, 1994. Originally published by Cork University Press, 1946–47. Macfarlane, Alan. Marriage and Love in England: Modes of Reproduction, 1300–1840. New York: Basil Blackwell, 1986. Mack, Phyllis. Visionary Women: Ecstatic Prophecy in Seventeenth-Century England. Berkeley: University of California Pres, 1992. Maclean, Ian. The Renaissance Notion of Woman: A Study of the Fortunes of Scholasticism and Medical Science in European Intellectual Life. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980. ———. Woman Triumphant: Feminism in French Literature, 1610–1652. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1977. MacNeil, Anne. Music and Women of the Commedia dell’Arte in the Late Sixteenth Century. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003. Maggi, Armando. Uttering the Word: The Mystical Performances of Maria Maddalena de’ Pazzi, a Renaissance Visionary. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1998 Marshall, Sherrin, ed. Women in Reformation and Counter-Reformation Europe: Public and Private Worlds. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1989. Masten, Jeffrey. Textual Intercourse: Collaboration, Authorship, and Sexualities in Renaissance Drama. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Matter, E. Ann, and John Coakley, eds. Creative Women in Medieval and Early Modern Italy. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994. McGrath, Lynette. Subjectivity and Women’s Poetry in Early Modern England. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2002.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography McIver, Katherine A. Women, Art, and Architecture in Northern Italy, 1520–1580: Negotiating Power. Women and Gender in the Early Modern World. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. McLeod, Glenda. Virtue and Venom: Catalogs of Women from Antiquity to the Renaissance. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1991. McSheffrey, Shannon. Gender and Heresy: Women and Men in Lollard Communities, 1420– 1530. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995. McTavish, Lianne. Childbirth and the Display of Authority in Early Modern France. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2005. Medwick, Cathleen. Teresa of Avila: The Progress of a Soul. New York: Doubleday, 1999. Meek, Christine, ed. Women in Renaissance and Early Modern Europe. Dublin, Ireland: Four Courts Press, 2000. Mendelson, Sara, and Patricia Crawford. Women in Early Modern England, 1550–1720. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998. Merchant, Carolyn. The Death of Nature: Women, Ecology, and the Scientific Revolution. New York: HarperCollins, 1980. Merrim, Stephanie. Early Modern Women’s Writing and Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1999. Messbarger, Rebecca. The Century of Women: The Representations of Women in EighteenthCentury Italian Public Discourse. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002. Midelfort, Erik H. C. Witchhunting in Southwestern Germany, 1562–1684: The Social and Intellectual Foundations. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1972. Migiel, Marilyn, and Juliana Schiesari. Refiguring Woman: Perspectives on Gender and the Italian Renaissance. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991. Miller, Nancy K. The Heroine’s Text: Readings in the French and English Novel, 1722–1782. New York: Columbia University Press, 1980. Miller, Naomi J. Changing the Subject: Mary Wroth and Figurations of Gender in Early Modern England. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1996. Miller, Naomi J., and Gary Waller, eds. Reading Mary Wroth: Representing Alternatives in Early Modern England. Knoxville: University of Tennessee Press, 1991. Miller, Naomi J., and Naomi Yavneh. Sibling Relations and Gender in the Early Modern World: Sisters, Brothers and Others. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. Monson, Craig A., ed. The Crannied Wall: Women, Religion, and the Arts in Early Modern Europe. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1992. Monson, Craig A. Disembodied Voices: Music and Culture in an Early Modern Italian Convent. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1995. Monter, E. William. Witchcraft in France and Switzerland: The Borderlands during the Reformation. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1976. Montrose, Louis Adrian. The Subject of Elizabeth: Authority, Gender, and Representation. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006. Mooney, Catherine M. Gendered Voices: Medieval Saints and Their Interpreters. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1999. Moore, Cornelia Niekus. The Maiden’s Mirror: Reading Material for German Girls in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Wiesbaden: Otto Harrassowitz, 1987. Moore, Mary B. Desiring Voices: Women Sonneteers and Petrarchism. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Mujica, Barbara. Women Writers of Early Modern Spain. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2004. Murphy, Caroline. The Pope’s Daughter: The Extraordinary Life of Felice Della Rovere. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Musacchio, Jacqueline Marie. The Art and Ritual of Childbirth in Renaissance Italy. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1999. Nader, Helen, ed. Power and Gender in Renaissance Spain: Eight Women of the Mendoza Family, 1450–1650. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2004. Nevitt, Marcus. Women and the Pamphlet Culture of Revolutionary England, 1640–1660. Women and Gender in the Early Modern World. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2006. Newman, Barbara. God and the Goddesses: Vision, Poetry, and Belief in the Middle Ages. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2003. Newman, Karen. Fashioning Femininity and English Renaissance Drama. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991. Novy, Marianne. Love’s Argument: Gender Relations in Shakespeare. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1984. O’Donnell, Mary Ann. Aphra Behn: An Annotated Bibliography of Primary and Secondary Sources. 2nd ed. Brookfield: Ashgate, 2004. Okin, Susan Moller. Women in Western Political Thought. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979. Ozment, Steven. The Bürgermeister’s Daughter: Scandal in a Sixteenth-Century German Town. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1995. ———. Flesh and Spirit: Private Life in Early Modern Germany. New York: Penguin Putnam, 1999. ———. When Fathers Ruled: Family Life in Reformation Europe. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1983. Pacheco, Anita, ed. Early [English] Women Writers: 1600–1720. New York: Longman, 1998. Pagels, Elaine. Adam, Eve, and the Serpent. New York: Harper Collins, 1988. Panizza, Letizia, ed. Women in Italian Renaissance Culture and Society. Oxford: European Humanities Research Centre, 2000. Panizza, Letizia, and Sharon Wood, eds. A History of Women’s Writing in Italy. Cambridge: University Press, 2000. Pantel, Pauline Schmitt. From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints. Vol. 1 of A History of Women in the West. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. Pardailhé-Galabrun, Annik. The Birth of Intimacy: Privacy and Domestic Life in Early Modern Paris. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1992. Park, Katharine. The Secrets of Women: Gender, Generation, and the Origins of Human Dissection. New York: Zone Books, 2006. Parker, Patricia. Literary Fat Ladies: Rhetoric, Gender, and Property. London: Methuen, 1987. Perlingieri, Ilya Sandra. Sofonisba Anguissola: The First Great Woman Artist of the Renaissance. New York: Rizzoli, 1992. Pernoud, Regine, and Marie-Veronique Clin. Joan of Arc: Her Story. Rev. and trans. Jeremy DuQuesnay Adams. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998. French original, 1986.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Perry, Mary Elizabeth. Crime and Society in Early Modern Seville. Hanover, NH: University Press of New England, 1980. ———. Gender and Disorder in Early Modern Seville. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. ———. The Handless Maiden: Moriscos and the Politics of Religion in Early Modern Spain. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005. Perry, Ruth. The Celebrated Mary Astell: An Early English Feminist. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986. Peters, Christine. Patterns of Piety: Women, Gender and Religion in Late Medieval and Reformation England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Petroff, Elizabeth A., ed. Medieval Women’s Visionary Literature. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Phillippy, Patricia Berrahou. Painting Women: Cosmetics, Canvases, and Early Modern Culture. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2006. Plowden, Alison. Tudor Women: Queens and Commoners. Rev. ed. Thrupp, Stroud, Gloucestershire: Sutton, 1998. Poor, Sara S., and Jana K. Schulman. Women and Medieval Epic: Gender, Genre, and the Limits of Epic Masculinity. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Price, Paola Malpezzi, and Christine Ristaino. Lucrezia Marinella and the “Querelle des femmes” in Seventeenth-Century Italy. Madison, NJ: Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 2008. Prior, Mary, ed. Women in English Society, 1500–1800. London: Methuen, 1985. Quilligan, Maureen. The Allegory of Female Authority: Christine de Pizan’s “Cité des Dames.” Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1991. ———. Incest and Agency in Elizabeth’s England. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Rabil, Albert. Laura Cereta: Quattrocento Humanist. Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1981. Ranft, Patricia. Women in Western Intellectual Culture, 600–1500. New York: Palgrave, 2002. Rapley, Elizabeth. The Dévotés: Women and Church in Seventeenth-Century France. Kingston, Ontario: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1989. ———. A Social History of the Cloister: Daily Life in the Teaching Monasteries of the Old Regime. Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2001. Raven, James, Helen Small, and Naomi Tadmor, eds. The Practice and Representation of Reading in England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Reardon, Colleen. Holy Concord within Sacred Walls: Nuns and Music in Siena, 1575–1700. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Reid, Jonathan Andrew. “King’s Sister—Queen of Dissent: Marguerite of Navarre (1492–1549) and Her Evangelical Network.” Ph.D diss., University of Arizona, 2001. Reiss, Sheryl E., and David G. Wilkins, eds. Beyond Isabella: Secular Women Patrons of Art in Renaissance Italy. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Rheubottom, David. Age, Marriage, and Politics in Fifteenth-Century Ragusa. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Richards, Earl Jeffrey, ed., with Joan Williamson, Nadia Margolis, and Christine Reno. Reinterpreting Christine de Pizan. Athens: University of Georgia Press, 1992.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Richardson, Brian. Printing, Writers, and Readers in Renaissance Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Riddle, John M. Contraception and Abortion from the Ancient World to the Renaissance. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1992. ———. Eve’s Herbs: A History of Contraception and Abortion in the West. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997. Robin, Diana. Publishing Women: Salons, the Presses, and the Counter-Reformation in SixteenthCentury Italy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007. Robin, Diana, Anne R. Larsen, and Carole Levin, eds. Encyclopedia of Women in the Renaissance: Italy, France, and England. Santa Barbara, CA: ABC Clio, 2007. Roelker, Nancy L. Queen of Navarre, Jeanne d’Albret, 1528–1572. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1968. Roper, Lyndal. The Holy Household: Women and Morals in Reformation Augsburg. New York: Oxford University Press, 1989. Rose, Mary Beth. The Expense of Spirit: Love and Sexuality in English Renaissance Drama. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988. ———. Gender and Heroism in Early Modern English Literature. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. ———, ed. Women in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: Literary and Historical Perspectives. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1986. Rosenthal, Margaret F. The Honest Courtesan: Veronica Franco, Citizen and Writer in SixteenthCentury Venice. Foreword by Catharine R. Stimpson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1992. Rublack, Ulinka, ed. Gender in Early Modern German History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Ruggiero, Guido. Binding Passions: Tales of Magic, Marriage, and Power at the End of the Renaissance. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. ———. The Boundaries of Eros: Sex Crime and Sexuality in Renaissance Venice. New York: Oxford University Press, 1985. Russell, Rinaldina, ed. Feminist Encyclopedia of Italian Literature. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1997. ———. Italian Women Writers: A Bio-bibliographical Sourcebook. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1994. Sackville-West, Vita. Daughter of France: The Life of La Grande Mademoiselle. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1959. Safley, Thomas Max. Let No Man Put Asunder: The Control of Marriage in the German Southwest: A Comparative Study, 1550–1600. Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth Century Journal Publishers, 1984. Sage, Lorna, ed. Cambridge Guide to Women’s Writing in English. Cambridge: University Press, 1999. Sánchez, Magdalena S. The Empress, the Queen, and the Nun: Women and Power at the Court of Philip III of Spain. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1998. Sankovitch, Tilde A. French Women Writers and the Book: Myths of Access and Desire. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1988. Sartori, Eva Martin, and Dorothy Wynne Zimmerman, eds. French Women Writers: A Bio-bibliographical Source Book. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1991.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Scaraffia, Lucetta, and Gabriella Zarri. Women and Faith: Catholic Religious Life in Italy from Late Antiquity to the Present. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1999. Scheepsma, Wybren. Medieval Religious Women in the Low Countries: The “Modern Devotion’,” the Canonesses of Windesheim, and Their Writings. Rochester, NY: Boydell Press, 2004. Schiebinger, Londa. The Mind Has No Sex? Women in the Origins of Modern Science. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1991. ———. Nature’s Body: Gender in the Making of Modern Science. Boston: Beacon Press, 1993. Schofield, Mary Anne, and Cecilia Macheski, eds. Fetter’d or Free? British Women Novelists, 1670–1815. Athens: Ohio University Press, 1986. Schroeder, Joy A. Dinah’s Lament: The Biblical Legacy of Sexual Violence in Christian Interpretation. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 2007. Schutte, Anne Jacobson. Aspiring Saints: Pretense of Holiness, Inquisition, and Gender in the Republic of Venice, 1618–1750. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001. ———, Thomas Kuehn, and Silvana Seidel Menchi, eds. Time, Space, and Women’s Lives in Early Modern Europe. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001. Seelig, Sharon Cadman. Autobiography and Gender in Early Modern Literature: Reading Women’s Lives, 1600–1680. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006. Seifert, Lewis C. Fairy Tales, Sexuality, and Gender in France, 1690–1715: Nostalgic Utopias. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996. Shannon, Laurie. Sovereign Amity: Figures of Friendship in Shakespearean Contexts. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2002. Shemek, Deanna. Ladies Errant: Wayward Women and Social Order in Early Modern Italy. Durham: Duke University Press, 1998. Shepherd, Simon. Amazons and Warrior Women: Varieties of Feminism in Seventeenth-Century Drama. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1981. Slater, Miriam. Family Life in the Seventeenth Century: The Verneys of Claydon House. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984. Smarr, Janet L. Joining the Conversation: Dialogues by Renaissance Women. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005. Smith, Hilda L. Reason’s Disciples: Seventeenth-Century English Feminists. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1982. ———. Women Writers and the Early Modern British Political Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Snook, Edith. Women, Reading, and the Cultural Politics of Early Modern England. Brookfield: Ashgate, 2005. Sobel, Dava. Galileo’s Daughter: A Historical Memoir of Science, Faith, and Love. New York: Penguin Books, 2000. Sommerville, Margaret R. Sex and Subjection: Attitudes to Women in Early-Modern Society. London: Arnold, 1995. Soufas, Teresa Scott. Dramas of Distinction: A Study of Plays by Golden Age Women. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1997. Spencer, Jane. The Rise of the Woman Novelist: From Aphra Behn to Jane Austen. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986. Spender, Dale. Mothers of the Novel: One Hundred Good Women Writers before Jane Austen. London: Routledge, 1986.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Sperling, Jutta Gisela. Convents and the Body Politic in Late Renaissance Venice. Foreword by Catharine R. Stimpson. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999. Staley, Lynn. Margery Kempe’s Dissenting Fictions. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994. Steinbrügge, Lieselotte. The Moral Sex: Woman’s Nature in the French Enlightenment. Trans. Pamela E. Selwyn. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995. Stephens, Sonya, ed. A History of Women’s Writing in France. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. Stephenson, Barbara. The Power and Patronage of Marguerite de Navarre. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Stevenson, Jane. Women Latin Poets: Language, Gender, and Authority, from Antiquity to the Eighteenth Century. New York: Oxford University Press, 2005. Stocker, Margarita. Judith, Sexual Warrior: Women and Power in Western Culture. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998. Stone, Lawrence. Family, Marriage, and Sex in England, 1500–1800. New York: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 1977; abridged edition, New York: Harper & Row, 1979. Straznacky, Marta. Privacy, Playreading, and Women’s Closet Drama, 1550–1700. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004. Stretton, Timothy. Women Waging Law in Elizabethan England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. Strinati, Claudio M., Carole Collier Frick, Elizabeth S. G. Nicholson, Vera Fortunati Pietrantonio, and Jordana Pomeroy. Italian Women Artists: From Renaissance to Baroque. Ed. National Museum of Women in the Arts, Sylvestre Verger Art Organization. New York: Skira, 2007. Stuard, Susan Mosher. Gilding the Market: Luxury and Fashion in Fourteenth-Century Italy. Middle Ages Series. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006. Summit, Jennifer. Lost Property: The Woman Writer and English Literary History, 1380–1589. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2000. Surtz, Ronald E. The Guitar of God: Gender, Power, and Authority in the Visionary World of Mother Juana de la Cruz (1481–1534). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1991. ———. Writing Women in Late Medieval and Early Modern Spain: The Mothers of Saint Teresa of Avila. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1995. Suzuki, Mihoko. Subordinate Subjects: Gender, the Political Nation, and Literary Form in England, 1588–1688. Brookfield: Ashgate, 2003. Tatlock, Lynne, and Christiane Bohnert, eds. The Graph of Sex and the German Text: Gendered Culture in Early Modern Germany, 1500–1700. Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1994. Teague, Frances. Bathsua Makin, Woman of Learning. Lewisburg, PA: Bucknell University Press, 1999. Thomas, Anabel. Art and Piety in the Female Religious Communities of Renaissance Italy: Iconography, Space, and the Religious Woman’s Perspective. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Thompson, John Lee. John Calvin and the Daughters of Sarah: Women in Regular and Exceptional Roles in the Exegesis of Calvin, His Predecessors, and His Contemporaries. Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance 259. Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1992. Tinagli, Paola. Women in Italian Renaissance Art: Gender, Representation, Identity. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1997.

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Series Editors’ Bibliography Todd, Janet. The Secret Life of Aphra Behn. London: Pandora, 2000. ———. The Sign of Angelica: Women, Writing, and Fiction, 1660–1800. New York: Columbia University Press, 1989. Tomas, Natalie R. The Medici Women: Gender and Power in Renaissance Florence. Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2004. Traub, Valerie. The Renaissance of Lesbianism in Early Modern England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Valenze, Deborah. The First Industrial Woman. New York: Oxford University Press, 1995. Van Dijk, Susan, Lia van Gemert, and Sheila Ottway, eds. Writing the History of Women’s Writing: Toward an International Approach. Proceedings of the Colloquium, Amsterdam, 9–11 September. Amsterdam: Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences, 2001. Vickery, Amanda. The Gentleman’s Daughter: Women’s Lives in Georgian England. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1998. Vollendorf, Lisa. The Lives of Women: A New History of Inquisitional Spain. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2005. ———, ed. Recovering Spain’s Feminist Tradition. New York: MLA, 2001. Waithe, Mary Ellen, ed. A History of Women Philosophers. 3 vols. Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, 1987. Walker, Claire. Gender and Politics in Early Modern Europe: English Convents in France and the Low Countries. New York: Palgrave, 2003. Wall, Wendy. The Imprint of Gender: Authorship and Publication in the English Renaissance. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1993. Walsh, William T. St. Teresa of Avila: A Biography. Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1987. Warner, Marina. Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and Cult of the Virgin Mary. New York: Knopf, 1976. ———. Joan of Arc: The Image of Female Heroism. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981. Warnicke, Retha M. The Marrying of Anne of Cleves: Royal Protocol in Tudor England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000. ———. Mary Queen of Scots. Routledge Historical Biographies. New York: Routledge, 2006. ———. The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn: Family Politics at the Court of Henry VIII. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989. ———. Women of the English Renaissance and Reformation. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1983. Warren, Nancy Bradley. Women of God and Arms: Female Spirituality and Political Conflict, 1380–1600. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2005. Watt, Diane. Secretaries of God: Women Prophets in Late Medieval and Early Modern England. Cambridge, England: D. S. Brewer, 1997. Weaver, Elissa B. Convent Theatre in Early Modern Italy: Spiritual Fun and Learning for Women. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002. Weber, Alison. Teresa of Avila and the Rhetoric of Femininity. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990. Weinstein, Donald, and Rudolph M. Bell. Saints and Society: The Two Worlds of Western Christendom, 1000–1700. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982.

Series Editors’ Bibliography Welles, Marcia L. Persephone’s Girdle: Narratives of Rape in Seventeenth-Century Spanish Literature. Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2000. Whitehead, Barbara J., ed. Women’s Education in Early Modern Europe: A History, 1500– 1800. New York: Garland, 1999. Wiesner-Hanks, Merry E. Christianity and Sexuality in the Early Modern World: Regulating Desire, Reforming Practice. New York: Routledge, 2000. ———. Gender, Church, and State in Early Modern Germany: Essays. New York: Longman, 1998. ———. Gender in History. Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2001. ———. Women and Gender in Early Modern Europe. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1993. ———. Working Women in Renaissance Germany. New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1986. Willard, Charity Cannon. Christine de Pizan: Her Life and Works. New York: Persea Books, 1984. Wilson, Katharina, ed. Encyclopedia of Continental Women Writers. 2 vols. New York: Garland, 1991. Wiltenburg, Joy. Disorderly Women and Female Power in the Street Literature of Early Modern England and Germany. Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1992. Winn, Colette, and Donna Kuizenga, eds. Women Writers in Pre-Revolutionary France. New York: Garland, 1997. Winston-Allen, Anne. Convent Chronicles: Women Writing about Women and Reform in the Late Middle Ages. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2004. Woodbridge, Linda. Women and the English Renaissance: Literature and the Nature of Womankind, 1540–1620. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1984. Woodford, Charlotte. Nuns as Historians in Early Modern Germany. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2002. Woods, Susanne. Lanyer: A Renaissance Woman Poet. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999. Woods, Susanne, and Margaret P. Hannay, eds. Teaching Tudor and Stuart Women Writers. New York: MLA, 2000. Wormald, Jenny. Mary Queen of Scots: A Study in Failure. London: George Philip Press, 1988. Zinsser, Judith P. Men, Women, and the Birthing of Modern Science. DeKalb: Northern Illinois University Press, 2005.

427

I N D E X O F F I R S T L I N E S I N I TA L I A N

For ease in consulting, this index overlooks punctuation and spacing and arranges variants of elisions and contractions uniformly. All works are sonnets except for those marked as follows: * canzone ** sestina *** ballata † capitolo ‡ madrigal

First Verse A` che bramar Signor che venga manco A` che Conte assalir chi non repugna? A` Che più saettarmi arcier spietato? A` che pur dir’ ò mio dolce Signore, A` che Signor’ affaticar’ in vano, A che vergar Signor carte, & inchiostro A` mezo il mare, ch’io varcai tre anni A` voi sian Febo, e le Sorelle amiche Accogliete benigni ò Colle, ò fiume, Acconciatevi spirti stanchi, e frali Ahi, se così vi distrignesse il laccio, Al partir vostro, s’è con voi partita Alma celeste, e pura, Alma Fenice, che con l’auree piume, Alma honorata, e saggia, che partendo Alma reina, eterno, e vivo sole, Altero nido, ove’l mio vivo Sole Alto Colle, almo fiume, ove soggiorno Alto Colle, gradito e gratioso,

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 209 217 94 169 157 57 117 219 221 251 268 35 190 41 201 200 229* 299 224 249 230 300 222 247 37 46 10

429

430

Index of First Lines

First Verse Altri mai foco, stral, prigione, ò nodo Amica dolce, & honorata schiera, Amor lo stato tuo è proprio quale, Amor m’ha fatto tal, ch’io vivo in foco Anima, che secura sei passata Arbor felice, aventuroso, e chiaro, Ardente mio disir’, à che pur vago Arsi, piansi, cantai, piango, ardo, e canto,

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 27 263 269 192 206 208 252 274 11 204 203 26

Bastavan Conte que’ bei lumi, quelli, Beate luci, hor se mi fate guerra Beato insogno, e caro, Ben posso gir de l’altre donne in cima, Ben si convien Signor, che l’ aureo dardo

118 52 302‡ 254 216

Canta tu Musa mia non più quel volto, Cantate meco Progne, e Filomena, Care stelle, che tutte insieme insieme Casta, cara, e di Dio diletta ancella, Cercando novi versi, e nove rime Certo fate gran torto à la mia fede, Cesare, e Ciro i vostri fidi spegli, Che bella lode, Amor, che ricche spoglie Che farai alma? ove volgerai il piede, Che fia di me dico, ad Amor talhora, Che meraviglia fu, s’al primo assalto Chi darà lena à la tua stanca vita, Chi darà penne d’ Aquila, ò Colomba Chi mi darà di lagrime un gran fonte, Chi mi darà soccorso à l’hora estrema, Chi non sà, come dolce il cor si fura, Chi porterà le mie giuste querele Chi può contar’ il mio felice stato, Chi vuol conoscer, Donne, il mio Signore, Chi vuol veder l’imagin del valore, Chiaro e famoso mare, Chi’l crederia? felice era il mio stato, Chiunque à fama gloriosa intende Come chi mira in ciel fisso le stelle Come l’augel, ch’à Febo è grato tanto Come posso far pace col desio, Comincia alma infelice à poco à poco Con quai degne accoglienze, ò quai parole Con quai segni Signor, volete ch’io

285 173 160 231 266 180 36 168 213 186 14 195 13 136 61 31 67 110 7 121 68* 198 265 19 48 146 191 101 308‡

233 276 219 206

301 288

212

194

197 287

238

Index of First Lines

First Verse Conte dov’ è andata Conte, il vostro valor ben’è infinito, Conte, quel vivo, & honorato raggio, Così m’acqueto di temer contenta, Così m’impresse al core Cosi senza haver vita vivo in pene

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 305‡ 235 98 236 255 126 293‡ 223 133 287† 309‡ 289† 183 304‡ 113 73 158 96 12 58 249 310‡ 65 208 288† 220*** 275 292‡ 181 286† [see appendix A] 210 155 282 43

242 239 244

E` questa quella viva, e salda fede, E` sì gradito, e sì dolce l’obietto Ecco Amor’ io morrò, perche la vita Era vicino il dì, che’l Creatore,

202 244 197 2

201 264 196

Fa ch’io rivegga Amor’ anzi ch’io moia Fammi pur certa Amor, che non mi toglia, Felice Cavalier’, e fortunato, Fiume, che dal mio nome, nome prendi, Fra quell’ illustre e nobil compagnia

75 170 256 139 30

Da più lati fra noi Conte risuona’, Dal mio vivace foco De Le ricche beate, e chiare rive Deh consolate il cor co’ vostri rai, Deh farà mai ritorno à gli occhi miei Deh foss’io almen sicura, che lo stato, Deh foss’io certa almen, ch’alcuna volta Deh lasciate Signor le maggior cure Deh, perche, com’io son con voi col core, Deh, perche così tardo gli occhi apersi Deh, perche non ho io l’ingegno e l’arte Deh, perche non poss’io qual debbo, e quale Deh, perche soffri Amor, che disiando Deh, se vi fu giamai dolce e soave D’esser sempre esca al tuo concente foco Dettata dal dolor cieco, & insano Di chi ti lagni ò mio diletto, e fido Di queste tenebrose, e fiere voglie Dimmi per la tua face, Diversi effetti Amor mi fà vedere, Donne voi, che fin qui libere, e sciolte Dotto, saggio, gentil, chiaro Bonetto, Dove volete voi, & in qual parte Due anni, e più ha già voltato il cielo, Dunque io potrò fattura empia, & ingrata Dura è la stella mia, maggior durezza

234

272 240 216 243 297 304 222 241 263 218 310

279

431

432

Index of First Lines

First Verse Gioia somma, infinito, alto diletto, Gli occhi, onde mi legasti Amor’ affrena Gratie che fate il ciel fresco e sereno, Gratie, che fate mai sempre soggiorno

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 109 78 247 267 23

Hor, che ritorna e si rinova l’anno, Hor, che torna la dolce Primavera Hor sopra il forte, e veloce destriero

107 62 147

Il bel, che fuor per gli occhi appare, e’l vago Il cor verrebbe teco, Il gran terror de le nimiche squadre, Io accuso talhora Amor, e lui Io assimiglio il mio Signor’ al cielo Io benedico, Amor, tutti gli affanni, Io non mi voglio più doler d’ Amore, Io non trovo più rime, onde più possa Io non veggio giamai giunger quel giorno, Io non v’invidio punto Angeli santi Io penso talhor meco, quanto amaro Io pur’ aspetto, e non veggo che giunga, Io son da l’aspettar’ homai sì stanca, Io veggio spesso Amore, Io vo pur descrivendo d’hora in hora Io vorrei ben MOLIN, ma non ho l’ale Io vorrei pur, ch’ Amor dicesse; come

20 298‡ 245 166 5 103 119 184 211 17 185 99 47 295‡ 45 240 152

La fè Conte il più caro e ricco pegno, La gran sete amorosa, che m’afflige, La mia vita è un mar, l’acqua è’l mio pianto, La piaga, ch’io credea, che fosse salda, La vita fugge, & io pur sospirando Larghe vene d’humor, vive scintille, Lassa, chi turba la mia lunga pace? Lassa, in questo fiorito, e verde prato Le pene de l’ Inferno insieme insieme, Le virtù vostre, e quel cortese affetto, L’empio tuo strale Amore Liete campagne, dolci colli ameni, Lodate i chiari lumi, ove mirando

79 74 72 215 182 150 88 189 300‡ 258 294‡ 145 116

Ma che sciocca dich’io? perche vaneggio? Menami Amor’ homai, lassa, il mio Sole,

89 95**

228 265

209

225 260

214

231 280 224

Index of First Lines

First Verse Mentre al cielo il Pastor d’alma beltate Mentre chiaro Signor per voi s’attende, Mentre Signor’, à l’alte cose intento, Mentr’io conto fra me minutamente Mentr’io penso dolente à l’hora breve, Meraviglia non è, se’n uno instante Mesta, e pentita de’ miei gravi errori, Mille fiate à voi volgo la mente, Mille volte Signor movo la penna, Musa mia, che sì pronta, e sì cortese

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 262 285 226 251 69 29 156 179 278 311 272 294 114 290† 245

Ninfe, che d’ Adria i più riposti guadi, Non aspettò giamai focoso amante, Novo e raro miracol di Natura;

255 291† 91

O` beata, e dolcissima novella, O` de le mie fatiche alto ritegno, O` diletti d’ Amor dubbij e fugaci, O` gran valor d’un Cavalier cortese, O` hora, ò stella dispietata e cruda, O` inaudita, e rara cortesia O` mia sventura, ò mio perverso fato, O` notte, à me più chiara, e più beata, O` rive, ò lidi, che già foste porto, O` sacro, amato, e gratioso aspetto; O` tante indarno mie fatiche sparse, Occhi miei lassi non lasciate il pianto, Oime le notti mie colme di gioia, Onde, che questo mar turbate spesso,

100 77 106 97 70 237 129 104 140 84 123 164 83 40

Pastor, che d’ Adria il fortunato seno Per le saette tue Amor ti giuro, Perche, Fortuna avversa a’ miei disiri Perche mi sij Signor crudo, e selvaggio, Piangete Donne, e con voi pianga Amore, Piangete Donne, e poi che la mia morte Poi ch’Amor mi ferì di crude ponte, Poi che da voi Signor m’è pur vietato Poi che disia cangiar pensiero, e voglia Poi che m’ha reso Amor le vive stelle, Poi che m’hai resa Amor la libertade Poi che per mio destin volgeste in parte Poi che tu mandi à far tanta dimora,

261 32 250 178 151 86 50 131 167 108** 205 203 177

278 296

257

284 273

207 202

433

434

Index of First Lines

First Verse Pommi ove’l mar irato geme e frange, Porgi man Febo à l’ erbe, e con quell’ arte, Prendete il volo tutti in quella parte Prendi Amor de’ tuoi lacci il più possente, Prendi Amor’ i tuoi strali, e la tua face, Purga Signor’ homai l’interno affetto, Qual’ à pieno potrà mai prosa, ò rima, Qual darai fine Amor’ à le mie pene, Qual’ è fresc’ aura à l’ estiv’ hora ardente Qual fosse il mio martire Qual fu di me giamai sotto la Luna Qual fuggitiva cerva e miserella, Qual sagittario, che sia sempre avezzo Qual sempre a’ miei disir contraria sorte Qualunque dal mio petto esce sospiro, Quando fia mai, ch’io vegga un dì pietosi Quando fu prima il mio Signor concetto Quando i veggio apparir’ il mio bel raggio Quando innanti à i begli occhi almi, e lucenti Quando, io dimando nel mio pianto Amore, Quando io movo à mirar fissa & intenta Quando mostra à quest’occhi Amor le porte Quando più tardi il Sole à noi aggiorna, Quando quell’alma, i cui disiri ardenti Quando sarete mai satie e satolle Quando tal volta il mio soverchio ardore Quando talhor’ Amor m’assal più forte, Quanto è questo fatto hora aspro, e selvaggio Quasi huom, che rimaner dè tosto senza Quasi quercia di monte urtata e scossa Quasi vago, e purpureo Giacinto, Quel, che con tanta, e sì larga misura, Quel desir, che fù già caldo, et ardente Quel gentil seme di virtute ardente, Quel lume, che’l mar d’ Adria empie, et avampa Quella febre amorosa, che m’atterra Quelle lagrime calde, e quei sospiri, Quelle lagrime spesse, e sospir molti, Quelle piaghe profonde; e l’ acqua, e’l sangue, Quelle rime honorate, e quell’ingegno Queste rive, ch’amai sì caldamente, Questo aspro Conte un cor d’Orsa e di Tigre, Questo felice, e glorioso Tempio

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 111 257 277 137 80 87 280 308 253 207 234 299‡ 130 93 218 49 38 143 4 18 28 132 122 163 71 233 33 85 76 135 175 92 188 259 284 274 238 159 59 232 276 115 134 81 268

275 215 286 229

211

303

281 205 282 256

302 305

290

Index of First Lines

First Verse Questo poco di tempo, che m’è dato, Qui, dove avien, che’l nostro mar ristagne; Quinci Amor, quindi cruda empia Fortuna

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 63 82 60

Ricevete cortesi i miei lamenti, Ricorro à voi luci beate, e dive, Rimandatemi il cor’ empio tiranno, Ritraggete poi me da l’altra parte, Rivolgete la lingua, e le parole Rivolgete talhor pietoso gli occhi

66 144 142 56 264 22

Sacro fiume beato, à le cui sponde Sacro re, che gli antichi, e novi regi, Sai tu, perche ti mise in mano Amore S’amor Natura al nobil’ intelletto Sapete voi, perche ogn’un non accende, S’avien, ch’un giorno Amor’ à me mi renda, Se con tutto il mio studio, e tutta l’arte Se così come sono abietta, e vile Se da vostr’ occhi, da l’avorio, & ostro, Se d’arder’ e d’amar’ io non mi stanco, Se di rozo pastor di gregge, e folle Se gran temenza non tenesse à freno, Se non temprasse il foco del mio còre Se poteste Signor con l’occhio interno Se qualche tema talhor non turbasse, Se quanta acqua ha Castalia, & Elicona Se quel grave martir, che’l cor m’afflige, Se soffrir’ il dolore, è l’esser forte, Se tu credi piacere al mio Signore, Se tu vedessi ò Madre de gli Amori, Se voi non foste à maggior cose volto, Se voi poteste ò Sol de gli occhi miei, Se voi vedete à mille chiari segni, Se’l cibo, onde i suoi servi nudre Amore, Se ’l Cielo ha qui di noi perpetua cura, Se’l fin de gli occhi miei, e del pensiero, Sì come provo ogn’hor novi diletti Si come tu m’insegni à sospirare, Signor, che doni il Paradiso, e tolli, Signor, che per sì rara cortesia Signor, dapoi che l’ acqua del mio pianto Signor, io sò, che’n me non son più viva Signor’ ite felice, ove’l disio

138 221 34 243 296‡ 9 39 8 246 53 3 187 54 153 120 239 194 199 297‡ 44 227 112 176 301‡ 148 162 16 149 277 273 260 124 200

270

246 [Rime diverse] 226

266

259 193 198 227 252

232

306 295 258 199

435

436

Index of First Lines

First Verse Signor per cortesia Signor, poi che m’havete il collo avinto Signor, s’ à quei lodati, e chiari segni S’io, che son Dio, & ho meco tant’armi S’io credessi por fine al mio martire, S’io non havessi al cor già fatto un callo, S’io’l dissi mai Signor, che mi sia tolto Son pur questi i begli occhi, e quelle, c’hanno SORANZO, de l’immenso valor vostro, Sovente Amor, che mi stà sempre à lato SPERON, ch’à l’opre chiare, et honorate Spesso, ch’ Amor con le sue tempre usate, Stratiami Amor se sai, dammi tormento, Sù speranza, sù fè, prendete l’armi S’ una candida fede, un cor sincero, S’una sola eccellentia suol far chiaro S’una vera, e rarissima humiltate,

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 303‡ 230 217 220 269 291 21 307‡ 237 193 283 128 105 267 289 141 228 253 306‡ 236 154 127 172 271 293 165

Trami dico ad Amor talhora, homai Tu, ch’à gli antichi spirti vai di paro, Tu, che traesti dal natio paese, Tu pur mi promettesti amica pace

25 241 223 42

261 248

Un’ intelletto angelico, e divino, Un veder torsi à poco a poco il core, Una inaudita, e nova crudeltade,

6 214 174

213

Veggio Amor tender l’arco, e novo strale Vengan quante fur mai, lingue, & ingegni, Verso il bel nido, ove restai partendo, Via da me le tenebre e la nebbia, Vieni Amor’ à veder la gloria mia, Virtudi eccelse, e doti illustri, e chiare, Voi, ch’ à le Muse, & al Signor di Delo, Voi ch’ascoltate in queste meste rime, Voi, che cercando ornar d’alloro il crine Voi, che di vari campi, e prati vari, Voi, che fate sonar da Battro à Tile, Voi, che novellamente Donne entrate Voi, che per l’amoroso aspro sentiero Voi, che’n marmi, in colori, in bronzo, in cera Voi n’andaste Signor senza me, dove Voi potete Signor ben tormi voi Voi vi partite Conte, & io qual soglio,

212 24 161 102 51 283 248 1 15 270 242 64 90 55 225 171 196

210

204 271

292 262

250 195

Index of First Lines

First Verse Volgi à me peccatrice empia la vista, Volgi padre del cielo à miglior calle Vorrei, che mi dicessi un poco Amore, ZANNI, quel chiaro e quel felice ingegno,

Poem Number (from 1913, (from 1554) if different) 279 307 281 309 125 235

254

437

INDEX

Italicized numbers indicate poems. Achilles, 28n73, 254 Adam, 55, 211 Adria. See Venice Alamanni, Luigi, 19, 223, 389n507 Alcaeus, 40 Alcmene, 22, 104, 377n268 Anacreon, 40 Anthony, St., 225, 389n515 Apollo, 27, 28, 29, 5, 223, 248, 254, 257, 266, 367n44, 367n51, 371n132, 374n211, 381n350, 383n392, 384n419, 389n508, 393n592, 394n603, 394n610 Aragona, Geronima d’, 395n627 Aragona, Giovanna d’, 1n1, 33, 268, 396n647 Aragona, Tullia d’, 23n59, 378 Aretino, Pietro, 11n35, 17 Ariosto, Ludovico, 370n118, 374n195; Orlando furioso, 7n20, 19, 24n62, 376n255, 382n367, 385n440, 389n513, 393n597; Rime, 377n267 Baffo, Francesca, 11n35, 23n59 Ballattini, Signor Filippo, 38n99 Barozzi [Zantani], Elena, 9, 17, 255, 394n605 Bassanese, Fiora, 4, 13, 22 Bellonci, Maria, and 1954 edition of Stampa’s Rime, 12, 43, 44

Bembo, Pietro, 2, 4n6, 21, 25, 27, 31–32, 366n35, 382n372, 385n440, 391n561, 392n574, 392n575, 394n612, 395n635 Bembo, Torquato, 2, 27, 394n612 Benzone, Giorgio, 2, 6, 27, 365n9 Bergalli, Luisa, 1, 2, 3, 11n35, 12, 38n97, 39 Berni, Francesco, 24–25, 28n73, 30, 35, 380n322, 387n483; Rime, 375n218, 385n439 Bertoli, Daniel Antonio, 38, 40 Betussi, Giuseppe, 11–12 Bible, New Testament, 354n16, 386n456, 387n488, 389n509, 390n537 Boccaccio, Giovanni, 7, 11, 26; Ameto, 7; Decameron, 7n19, 24n62; Filostrato, 378n278; De casibus virorum illustrorum, 11n35 Bonetto, Jacopo, 1n1, 43, 349–350, 369n92, 383n394, 392n568 Brunetto, Orazio, 10 Callimachus, 29 Cambio, Perissone, 6, 8–9, 10n28 Carrer, Luigi, 37n95 Castiglione, Baldassare, 7; Il cortegiano, 27, 31 Catherine of Siena, 24

439

440

Index Catullus, 29, 36, 369n84, 370n118, 378n280, 382n361, 382n375 Cavazza, Francesco, 7n18 Charles V (Holy Roman Emperor), 392n574 Charles VI, 38 chimera, 124, 174, 379n313 Christ, 12, 16, 22, 43, 209, 210, 229, 275–82, 354–5, 367n39, 392n574, 398n678 Cino da Pistoia, 22, 381n361 Collalto, Count Collaltino di, 3, 4n9, 6, 11–22, 24–32, 40, 43, 56–59, 2, 3, 9, 10, 11, 29, 30, 31, 33, 41, 42, 45, 46, 55, 56, 62, 63, 65, 67, 69, 72, 73, 77, 78, 79, 81, 82, 83, 84, 92, 93, 94, 96, 97, 98, 99, 118, 119, 136, 142, 145, 160, 180, 183, 196, 225, 227, 238, 284, 285, 287, 288, 291, 292, 305, 306, 366n27, 366n34, 366n39, 367n41, 367n50, 367n51, 367n53, 367n54, 369n88, 369n91, 369n95, 370n101, 370n111, 370n117, 371n126, 372n166, 372n167, 373n168, 373n173, 373n175, 374n190, 374n211, 375n219, 377n258, 377n274, 378n290, 380n329, 380n337, 381n344, 382n370, 384n414, 384n415, 384n423, 385n441, 386n460, 387n477, 389n522, 391n563, 391n564, 392n565, 392n573, 393n596, 394n615, 395n626, 396n650, 397n668, 398n679, 398n680, 399n701, 399n705, 399n719, 400n730; and manipulations of “conte,” 16, 19, 29, 50, 110, 114, 119, 145, 184, 197, 225, 227, 266, 291, 299, 368n65, 369n85; as literary patron, 32–33, 396n649; nobility of, 31–32, 14, 29, 91; as poet, 11, 39, 115, 117–119, 236, 238, 370n108, 378n291, 391n548; as singer, 31, 117 Collalto, Rambaldo di, 1–2, 38, 40 Collalto, Vinciguerra II, 4n9, 12n36, 30, 32, 11, 237, 260, 367n54, 391n550, 391n552, 394n615, 395n634

Colonna, Vittoria, 2n2, 23, 32–33, 38, 374n195; Rime amorose, 3, 23, 372n154, 377n272, 379n306, 383n392; Rime spirituali, 388n494, 397n663 Corinna, 21n53, 40, 224, 389n513 Cox, Virginia, 3n4, 4n6, 22, 23,59 Croce, Benedetto, 4 Dante, 376n248, 378n279; Commedia, 16, 372n148, 381n360, 383n392, 383n398, 385n432, 386n445, 386n447, 386n454, 386n463, 398n676 della Casa, Giovanni, 6–7, 24–34, 36, 54–57, 266, 365n8, 365n10, 369n101, 376n248, 395n634 Dido, 16, 26, 372n164, 376n247, 381n360, 387n486, 388n496 Divizi, Agnolo, 24n62 Domenichi, Ludovico, 396n645; Rime diverse d’alcune nobilissime et virtuosissime donne, 1n1, 19n49, 349, 357, 371n137, 371n141, 373n185, 374n198, 389n51, 400n725 Donadoni, Eugenio, 34 Donne, John, 35 echo, 124, 152, 289, 379n313, 382n365, 399n714 elegy, 21–22, 26, 29–30, 35, 377n267, 398n692 Emo, Leonardo, 27, 358, 253, 254, 257, 393n596, 394n611 England, 7–8 epic, 16, 26, 29, 398n682 Erspamer, Francesco, 34 Feldman, Martha, 5n14, 9, 10, 25n65, 368n62 Ferri, Count Pietro Leopoldo, 38n96 Florence, 19, 24n62, 27, 32, 56–57, 366n25 Forni, Giorgio, 24, 25, 28, 31n79, 36n92, 395n635 France, 11, 15, 19, 32, 10, 61, 66, 67, 69, 71, 78, 81, 97, 98, 102, 116, 180, 202, 221, 222, 223, 271, 288, 366n27,

Index 367n53, 372n165, 372n166, 374n190, 375n219, 378n288, 386n455, 388n503, 389n507, 396n650, 399n701, 399n705 Franco, Veronica, 4–5, 9, 17, 30n77, 378n279 Gambara, Veronica, 2n2, 394n605 God, 34, 55, 57, 73, 76, 103, 172, 209, 210, 211, 214, 230, 231, 284, 291, 350, 358, 372n150, 375n212, 385n432, 386n460, 389n515, 397n675 Gonzaga, Lucrezia, 5, 11 Gradenigo, Pietro, 387n486, 388n495 Guercino, 38–41 Helicon, 10, 223, 239 Henri II, 11, 14, 19, 28, 32, 67, 97, 116, 202, 221, 223, 367n53, 372n166, 377n258, 378n292, 386n455, 388n504, 309n506, 309n507 Hercules, 22, 104, 142, 377n268, 381n346, 391n556; pillars of, 373n169, 375n225 Hesiod, 30, 3, 367n40 Homer, 26, 114, 254, 265, 378n292, 395n631, 398n682; Batracomiomachia, 395n627; Iliad, 394n602 Horace, 26; Odes, 378n283, 379n313; Satires, 382n362 Jones, Ann Rosalind, 14, 32 Jove, 22, 4, 220, 225, 389n515 Labé, Louise, 398n685 Lando, Ortensio, 5, 11, 16, 33, 270, 396n649 Lethe, 88 Linus, 30, 239, 391n556 Longinus (On the Sublime), 3, 36, 369n84 Mars, 19, 4, 62, 97, 147, 245, 254, 287, 372n166, 381n356, 392n576, 398n691 Mauro, Giovanni, 24 Medici, Caterina de’, 14, 19, 32, 222, 389n506 Medici, Cosimo de’, 19

Medici, Ippolito de’, 28n73 Mercury, 15, 4 Michelangelo, 16, 57, 372n155, 393n584 Minerva, 147 Mirtilla, Ippolita, 5n11, 19, 357, 386n465, 389n510, 400n725; Mirtilla pseudonym, 16, 19–20, 291, 400n725, 400n728 Mirtilla, Marietta, 5n11 Milton, John (Lycidas), 28 Molin(o), Girolamo, 9, 14n40, 240, 241, 560, 561, 563 Molza, Francesco Maria, 24 Morosini, Geronimo, 12 Murano, Natalino da, 37n95 Muses, 16–19, 39, 223, 248, 251, 285, 290, 367n40, 367n51, 368n62, 391n555, 393n592, 395n625, 398n683, 399n716 Narcissus, 379n313, 382n365 Negri, Angelica Paola Antonia de’, 16, 43n100, 229–233, 390n526, 390n533 Nervesa (abbey), 12n36, 30, 32n81, 391n550 Neoplatonism, 31–32, 379n312, 398n680 Orpheus, 6, 11, 31, 239, 369n88 Ovid, 22n54, 26; Heroides, 26, 30n77, 36, 381n350, 382n379, 398n685, 399n699; Metamorphoses, 374n211, 398n692 Padua, 6, 18–19, 35, 36n92, 37, 38n96, 225, 228, 389n514, 389n515, 389n524; Accademia degl’Infiammati, 7, 30 Parabosco, Girolamo, 6, 9, 11n32 Parma, 11 Parnassus, 39, 10, 15, 63, 226, 239, 240, 285, 367n51, 368n62, 373n168, 389n518, 391n555, 394n603, 395n625, 398n683 pastoral, 15, 17, 28 Patrizi, Francesco, 36n92

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Index Peter (apostle), 282 Petrarch, 4n6, 10, 17n45, 21–22, 25–26, 36, 40, 366n35, 373n182, 374n195, 378n279, 378n288, 378n290, 381n351, 382n370, 389n523; Petrarchan sonnet, 13, 21–22; petrarchismo, 21, 25n65, 45, 385n439; Rerum vulgarium fragmenta, 10, 21–22, 367n52, 368n81, 370n124, 371n131, 371n134, 371n143, 371n148, 371n163, 373n177, 373n178, 374n189, 375n216, 375n217, 376n247, 376n254, 377n260, 377n274, 378n283, 379n306, 379n315, 381n348, 381n361, 382n374, 383n385, 383n391, 383n398, 384n403, 384n407, 384n420, 385n440, 386n451, 386n462, 387n470, 387n471, 387n482, 390n532, 394n602, 397n662, 397n663, 399n713; Triumphus Cupidinis, 21, 366n36 Phillippy, Patricia, 26, 30n77 phoenix, 23, 207, 224, 358, 386n465, 386n466, 389n510 Pietrasanta, Plinio, 1–2, 27n70, 33, 365n16 Pole, Reginald, 33 Priuli, Alvise, 33; Priuli pseudonym 234, 265, 390n544 Priuli, Daniello, 33n86 Propertius (Elegies), 26, 29–30, 377n267 Quondam, Amedeo, 31 Raphael (Mount Parnassus), 39–41 Reformation thought, 33–34, 390n544, 396n649 ridotti (salons), 5, 30, 389n521 Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa: ballata in, 13; canzoni in, 10, 13, 16, 373n178, 390n533; capitoli in, 13–4, 16–8, 20, 43, 45, 366n27, 398n685, 397n663; madrigals in, 13–14, 16, 25, 35, 43, 45, 366n27, 400n730; modern editions, 42–44; order of poems,

13–16; performance and, 10–11; rhyme scheme, 10–13, 16, 23, 370n123, 381n361, 388n498; voice, 1–6, 13, 26, 34, 379n313, 380n332. See also Bellonci, Maria; Bergalli, Luisa; Salza, Abdelkader Robin, Diana, 27, 33n83 Robortello, Francesco, 35–36, 369n84 Romanticism, 34–35 Ruscelli, Girolamo, 25, 33; Del tempio alla divina signora donna Giovanna d’Aragona, 1n., 33, 395n636; Della difesa della lingua vulgare, 12n36; Il sesto libro delle rime di diversi eccellenti autori, 1n1, 25, 371n137, 373n185, 374n198, 376n241, 379n303, 387n486, 388n495, 389n521 sack of Rome, 24, 392n575 Salza, Abdelkader, 3n5, 4, 5n11, 6, 7n16, 10n27, 14, 16, 27, 30n78, 33n86, 43, 44, 361, 395n634, 397n669 Samson, 381n346 Sansovino, Francesco, 7, 11n35, 30, 36n92, 393n594, 394n611 Sappho, 2–3, 21, 26, 29, 35–37, 39–41, 1, 224, 366n36, 369n84, 378n280, 385n429, 389n513 schiera (company of poets), 18, 32–33, 24, 251, 263, 393n593; metaphor, 55, 62, 65, 101, 229, 231, 251, 263, 285, 289, 368n74 Shakespeare, 25; Shakespearean sonnet, 13 Siena, 12 Smarr, Janet Levarie, 6n15, 10n30, 11 Soranzo, Antonio, 395n635 Soranzo, Vettor, 395n635 Spadafora, Bartolomeo, 33 Speroni, Sperone, 9, 19, 25n65, 228, 389n523, 389n524, 391n555 Spira, Fortunio, 6, 272, 396n651 Stampa, Baldassarre, 4n9, 6–7, 30, 36n92 Stampa, Bartolomeo, 6 Stampa, Cecilia, 6–7 Stampa, Cassandra, 1–2, 6, 24,

Index 26–27, 30–32, 43, 54–57, 61, 262, 372n164, 395n620, 395n634 Stampa, Gaspara: and Anassilla, 15, 17, 19–20, 32, 44, 58, 65, 79, 80, 82, 86, 146, 202, 247, 261, 262, 306, 366n34, 369n95, 373n173, 380n329, 380n337, 391n554; classical influences on, 3, 16, 20, 22n54, 26, 28–30, 32, 36, 3, 26, 114, 254, 265, 367n40, 369n84, 370n118, 374n211, 376n247, 377n267, 378n280, 378n283, 379n313, 381n350, 382n361, 382n362, 382n375, 382n379, 385n429, 385n431, 394n602, 395n627, 395n631, 395n633, 398n682, 398n685, 398n692, 399n699, 399n713; as courtesan, 4–10, 23n59; education, 6–7; as new Sappho, 2–3, 36–37, 39–41; portraits of, 37–41; relationship with Bartolomeo Zen, 12, 16, 20, 23, 28; relationship with Collaltino, 3, 6, 11–22, 28; religious convictions, 33–34; as virtuosa, 2, 5, 10– 12, 32–33, 35. See also Collalto; Rime di Madonna Gaspara Stampa; women Stufa, Giulio, 2–3, 27, 37 sublime, 3, 34–37, 369n84 Susegana, 17 Tibullus (Elegies), 26, 396n692 Titian, 16, 19, 37n95, 57, 372n155 Tintoretto, 19 Toste, Richard, 7, 8n21 Treviso, 11 Trifone, Gabriel, 12n36, 25, 252, 377n266, 393n594 Valdés, Juan de, 33 Varchi, Benedetto, 2, 7, 24, 27, 30–31, 33, 36n92, 37, 378n279, 396n645 Veneto, 15, 18, 21, 30, 32, 369n95, 384n423, 395n634. Venice, 1–3, 5, 7n17, 9, 11–12, 17–19, 25n65, 27, 30, 32–36, 56–57, 37, 134, 156, 220, 289, 365n8, 370n101, 372n161, 380n328, 382n372,

388n499, 389n515, 390n529, 392n575, 393n593, 396n649; as Adria, 17–18, 77, 143, 146, 228, 229, 230, 231, 235, 238, 242, 247, 252, 255, 261, 274, 367n58, 390n525, 394n604; Adriatic sea, 17, 12, 13, 40, 68, 48, 69, 140, 202, 224, 225, 370n109, 373n179, 380n339 Venier, Domenico, 9, 14n40, 25, 227, 369n82, 369n88, 376n241, 377n266, 379n303, 387n486, 389n521, 390n545, 391n561, 391n562, 393n594, 396n645, 396n651 Venus, 10, 15, 19, 4, 30, 34, 42, 97, 118, 160, 245, 247, 255, 369n92, 370n115, 379n296, 382n377, 392n575, 393n583, 394n604; and Venice, 17, 394n605 Virgil, 16, 20, 29–30, 32, 114, 265, 394n602, 395n627, 395n631; Aeneid, 16, 376n247, 381n360, 385n429; in the Commedia, 385n432; Eclogues, 28–30, 39n633, 396n692; Georgics, 385n431, 399n714 Virgin Mary, 22, 2, 390n536, 397n662 Viscardo, Giovanni Andrea (Guiscardo), 12, 16, 258, 259, 394n612, 396n657 Viterbo, 33 women: addressed as readers of Stampa, 16, 18, 20, 21–2, 25, 1, 7, 64, 86, 90, 151, 286, 290; of antiquity and influence on Stampa, 26, 35–36, 389n513; as contemporary poets and influence on Stampa, 3–5, 9, 17, 23, 32–3, 39, 372n154, 374n195, 377n272, 378n279, 379n306, 383n390, 388n494, 389n510, 394n605, 397n663, 400n725, 400n726 Zancan, Marina, 5n10, 14 Zane, Jacopo, 390n545 Zantani, Antonio, 9 Zen, Bartolomeo, 12, 16, 20, 23, 28, 31, 43, 216, 387n487 Zeno, Apostolo, 3n5 Zilioli, Alessandro, 3–4, 8, 11n33

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