Petrarch sonnet 47. Three Sonnets of Petrarch 2022-11-15
Petrarch sonnet 47 Rating:
Petrarch's Sonnet 47, also known as "Vergine bella che di sol vestita," is a tribute to the Virgin Mary that employs the traditional Italian sonnet form of 14 lines with a rhyme scheme of abbaabba cdecde. In this sonnet, Petrarch compares Mary to the sun, describing her as a "fair virgin" who is "clothed in the sun."
Petrarch's language is highly poetic and metaphorical, using vivid imagery and imagery to convey his admiration for Mary. He describes her as a "mirror of eternal light," a "fountain of grace," and a "heavenly rose," all of which suggest her purity and beauty.
Throughout the sonnet, Petrarch also makes reference to the role that Mary played in the story of Jesus. He describes her as the "queen of heaven" and the "mother of the Word," highlighting her importance in the Christian faith.
One of the most striking aspects of Sonnet 47 is the way that Petrarch uses the sun as a metaphor for Mary. By describing her as "clothed in the sun," he is highlighting her radiance and her ability to bring light and warmth into the world. This metaphor also suggests that Mary is a source of divine light and grace, just as the sun is a source of light and warmth for the earth.
Overall, Sonnet 47 is a beautiful tribute to the Virgin Mary that employs vivid imagery and metaphorical language to convey Petrarch's admiration for her. Its use of the sun as a metaphor for Mary adds an additional layer of meaning to the poem, highlighting her role as a source of divine light and grace.
LISZT: Petrarch Sonnet 47, from Years of Pilgrimage Book II, Italy
HE SEEKS SOLITUDE, BUT LOVE FOLLOWS HIM EVERYWHERE Alone, and lost in thought, the desert glade Measuring I roam with ling'ring steps and slow; And still a watchful glance around me throw, Anxious to shun the print of human tread: No other means I find, no surer aid From the world's prying eye to hide my woe: So well my wild disorder'd gestures show, And love lorn looks, the fire within me bred, That well I deem each mountain, wood and plain, And river knows, what I from man conceal, What dreary hues my life's fond prospects dim. Forming a triptych within the suite are three works inspired by the sonnets of Petrarch. Franz Liszt: Sonetto No. Born Marie Flavigy in Frankurt am Main, she was sent to Paris at the age of sixteen. Années de pèlerinage Years of Pilgrimage. Towards the end, the music loses some of its tunefulness as it becomes more Joseph DuBose from Années de Pèlerinage - deuxième anneè: Italie: "benedetto sia 'l giorno e 'l mese e l'anno e la stagione e 'l tempo e l'ora e 'l punto e 'l bel paese e 'l loco ov'io fui giunto da' duo begli occhi che legato m'anno; e benedetto il primo dolce affanno ch'i' ebbi ad esser con Amor congiunto, e l'arco e le saette ond' i' fui punto, e le piaghe che 'nfin al cor mi vanno. .
Alone and pensive, the deserted plain, With tardy pace and sad, I wander by; And mine eyes o'er it rove, intent to fly Where distant shores no trace of man retain; No help save this I find, some cave to gain Where never may intrude man's curious eye, Lest on my brow, a stranger long to joy, He read the secret fire which makes my pain For here, methinks, the mountain and the flood, Valley and forest the strange temper know Of my sad life conceal'd from others' sight— Yet where, where shall I find so wild a wood, A way so rough that there Love cannot go Communing with me the long day and night? Laura de Noves was married to Count Hugues de Sade, and she refused the advances of the poet for the simple reason that she was already married. Based on the same compositional seed, the two versions are strikingly dissimilar, yet nevertheless closely related. The first of the three Petrarch sonnets, Sonetto 47, overflows in expressions of love at first sight. Franz Liszt: Sonetto No. Sonnet 47 Blest be the day, and blest the month, the year, The spring, the hour, the very moment blest, The lovely scene, the spot, where first oppress'd I sunk, of two bright eyes the prisoner: And blest the first soft pang, to me most dear, Which thrill'd my heart, when Love became its guest; And blest the bow, the shafts which pierced my breast, And even the wounds, which bosom'd thence I bear. .
. Liszt was inexorably drawn to the poetry of Francesco Petrarch, a poet and scholar from Renaissance Italy. Nor lets me leeve, nor die at my devyce, And yet of death it giveth none occasion. It applies as much to his sacred as to his secular music, to his instrumental as to his vocal settings, to the numerous genres in which he composed, and to the various phases of his stylistic development. Which turns to her alone, from her alone which came.
Wrangham Sonnet 104 I fynde no peace and all my warre is done, I feare and hope, I bourne and freese lyke yse; I flye above the wynde, yet cannot ryse; And nought I have, yet all the worlde I season, That looseth, nor lacketh, holdes me in pryson, And holdes me not, yet can I escape no wyse. Based on songs for tenor voice he had composed earlier in 1838-39, Liszt transcribed them for piano solo, preceding them with quotes from their respective sonnet. . Pianist Tony Yan Tong Chen Photo: Supplied Tony Chen is Auckland-born and his teachers here include Jian Liu, Bryan Sayer and Rae de Lisle. Methinks e'en things inanimate must know The flame that on my soul in secret preys; Whilst Love, unconquer'd, with resistless sway Still hovers round my path, still meets me on my way.
Thus from the public gaze I strive to fly, And to the winds alone my griefs impart; While in my hollow cheek and haggard eye Appears the fire that burns my inmost heart. And fill'd with tears I saw those two bright eyes, Which oft have turn'd the sun with envy pale; And from those lips I heard—oh! Yet whate'er wild or savage paths I've ta'en, Where'er I wander, love attends me still, Soft whisp'ring to my soul, and I to him. . Which turns to her alone, from her alone which came. Which turns to her alone, from her alone which came. The original version, for tenor soprano voice and piano, emerged in 1838 and initially remained unpublished.
A Timeless JourneyLiszt's Petrarch Sonnet No. 47 : Interlude
Franz Liszt: Sonetto No. But ah, in vain to distant scenes I go; No solitude my troubled thoughts allays. Laura was unattainable, and Petrach was devastated! Alone, and pensive, near some desert shore, Far from the haunts of men I love to stray, And, cautiously, my distant path explore Where never human footsteps mark'd the way. Franz Liszt: Sonetto No. Liszt borrowed this lofty title from Wilhelm Meisters Wanderjahre Wilhelm Meisters Journeyman Years. Benedette le voci tante ch'io chiamando il nome de mia Donna ò sparte e i sospiri e le lagrime e 'l desio; e benedette sian tutte le carte ov'io fama l'acquisto, e 'l pensier mio, ch'è sol di lei, si ch'altra non v'à parte" Francesco Petrarca 1304 - 1374. Petrarch gave up his vocation as a priest at the first sight of a woman called Laura.
Wyatt For a more modern, simultaneous translation, see Sonnet 123 On earth reveal'd the beauties of the skies, Angelic features, it was mine to hail; Features, which wake my mingled joy and wail, While all besides like dreams or shadows flies. Wit, pity, excellence, and grief, and love With blended plaint so sweet a concert made, As ne'er was given to mortal ear to prove: And heaven itself such mute attention paid, That not a breath disturb'd the listening grove— Even æther's wildest gales the tuneful charm obey'd. However, the sonnet is tingled ever so slightly with sadness. Blest too the strains which, pour'd through glade and grove, Have made the woodlands echo with her name; The sighs, the tears, the languishment, the love: And blest those sonnets, sources of my fame; And blest that thought—Oh! Without eye I see, and without tongue I playne; I desyre to perishe, yet aske I health; I love another, and yet I hate my self; I feede in sorrow and laughe in all my payne, Lykewyse pleaseth me both death and lyf, And my delight is cawser of my greif. Blest too the strains which, pour'd through glade and grove, Have made the woodlands echo with her name; The sighs, the tears, the languishment, the love: And blest those sonnets, sources of my fame; And blest that thought—Oh! What is remarkable above all, is the fact that Liszt continued to rework and revise these settings for well over two decades.