The Poetry Corner

Sonnet CCXXIV.

By Francesco Petrarca (Petrarch)

Cara la vita, e dopo lei mi pare. HONOUR TO BE PREFERRED TO LIFE. Methinks that life in lovely woman first, And after life true honour should be dear; Nay, wanting honour--of all wants the worst-- Friend! nought remains of loved or lovely here. And who, alas! has honour's barrier burst, Unsex'd and dead, though fair she yet appear, Leads a vile life, in shame and torment curst, A lingering death, where all is dark and drear. To me no marvel was Lucretia's end, Save that she needed, when that last disgrace Alone sufficed to kill, a sword to die. Sophists in vain the contrary defend: Their arguments are feeble all and base, And truth alone triumphant mounts on high! MACGREGOR.