With that warm, breathless eagerness common Con quel caldo desio che nascer suole

1

With that warm, breathless eagerness common
to those who can hear their hearts beat as they
return home, long absent, longing to see
beloved eyes and to hear the sweet words
of family and friends, so I return
to you, unique shores, fresh lakes, shady hills,
and see you, stronger than any city
the sun shines on, lovely, gay Brescia.

1

Con quel caldo desio che nascer suole
Nel petto di chi torna, amando, assente
Gli occhi vaghi a vedere, e le parole
Dolci a scoltar del suo bel foco ardente,
Con quel proprio voi, piagge al mondo sole,
Fresch'acque, ombrosi colli, e te, possente
Pił d'altra che 'l sol miri andando intorno,
Bella e lieta cittade, a veder torno

.

2

Hail, dearest city, and you, lucky, rich
countryside, so beloved by Heaven,
that like the graceful and sacred phoenix,
you acted with famous and noble courage;
Nature, who wounds others in a thousand
grevious ways, taking from them everything
they have, is to you alone, mother, nurse,
does you good graciously, generously,

2

Salve, mia cara patria, e tu, felice
Tanto amato dal Ciel, ricco paese,
Ch'a guisa di leggiadra alma fenice,
Mostri l'alto valor chiaro e palese;
Natura, a te sol madre e pia nutrice,
Ha fatto a gli altri mille gravi offese,
Spogliandogli di quanto avean di buono
Per farne a te cortese e largo dono.

3

Here are no tigers, lions, or serpents,
man's enemies, no venomous poison
like that which has the power to kill
even those who least fear death's bitterness:
instead one sees flocks of sheep playing,
untamed, nimble, well fed, in meadows
filled with green herbs and lovely flowers,
scattering gracious and precious perfumes.

3

Non tigri, non leoni e non serpenti
Nascono in te nemici a l'uman seme,
Non erbe venenose, a dar possenti
L'acerba morte, allor che men si teme;
Ma fiere isnelle e ben pasciuti armenti
Scherzar si veggon per li campi insieme,
Pieni d'erbe gentile e vaghi fiori,
Spargendo graziosi e cari odori.

4

But since to write poetry about you,
blessed place, requires a style nobler than
my humble rough one, a genius far more
sublime and splendid than mine, alas, is,
in thought my soul will forever praise you,
and with each step I take I will carry
your memory engraved in my heart's core.
as far as it is within my power.

4

Ma, perchč a dir di voi, lochi beati,
Ogn'alto stil sarebbe roco e basso,
Il carco d'onorarvi a pił pregiati,
Sublimi ingegni e gloriosi lasso.
Da me sarete col pensier lodati
e con l'anima sempre e ad ogni passo,
E con la memoria vostra in mezzo il core,
Quanto fia 'l mio poter, in farvi onore.

Sources:

Ruscelli-VG 18:18; Rizzardi 21:21; Chiappetti, Stanze 1:23; 1995 Bullock 43:104. See also Pungileoni 25-26; Guerrini-VG, Stanze 1: 352; Toffanin, 180-1; Muscettta-Ponchiroli, 1264-5. For Key see A Note on the Italian texts

Previous translation:

Stortoni & Lille, pp. 34-35.

Comments:

Gambara is said to have written this upon a return home to Brescia sometime in autumn 1532. Chiapetti notes that the opening lines of the third stanza echo Virgil's second Georgic, lines 150-54; for Courten's commentary see pp. 128-29. Bullock has altered the traditional text. For variants with his argument for changing wording and lines, commentary and paraphrase, see 1995 Bullock pp. 105-6n.
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