The second book of the _Canzoniere_, comprising the pieces composed after the death of Laura, resembles the first in their comparative inferiority at the beginning, after a fine introductory sonnet. Either Petrarch’s grief had paralysed his powers, or he had not fully realised his loss, or he had not yet hit upon the fitting tone. In a short time, however, he regains his true self, and the second part is generally deemed to excel the first, as pathos excels passion. It is not that the artist is more consummate, but the capabilities of his instrument are greater. The poems generally fall into two groups--laments for Laura’s loss, or consolation derived from the realisation of her presence on earth or in heaven. An example of each must be given: _The eyes whose praise I penned with glowing thought, And countenance and limbs and all fair worth That sundered me from men of mortal birth, From them dissevered, in myself distraught; The clustering locks with golden glory fraught; The sudden-shining smile, as angels’ mirth, Wonted to make a paradise on earth; Are now a little dust, that feels not aught. Still have I life, who rail and rage at it, Lorn of Love’s light that solely life endears; Mastless before the hurricane I flit. Be this my last of lays to mortal ears; Dried is the ancient fountain of my wit, And all my music melted into tears._ _Exalted by my thought to regions where I found whom earthly quest hath never shown, Where Love hath rule ’twixt fourth and second zone; More beautiful I found her, less austere. Clasping my hand, she said, 'Behold the sphere Where we shall dwell, if Wish hath truly known. I am, who wrung from thee such bitter moan; Whose sun went down ere evening did appear. My bliss, too high for man to understand, Yet needs thee, and the veil that so did please. Now unto dust for briefest season given.’ Why ceased she speaking? why withdrew her hand? For, rapt to ecstasy by words like these, Little I wanted to have stayed in Heaven._ This latter mood is in general the more characteristic of Petrarch. Towards the end it prevails more and more, but the same falling-off is observable as in the former book. Petrarch’s religious sonnets are exquisite when they involve a direct vision of Laura, but otherwise they are apt to become tame and conventional. It is almost a pity that the most notable exception should ever have been written, though it ranks among his masterpieces: