We find among Lorenzo's poems, written later in life than those addressed to Lucretia Donati, one entitled simply "An Elegy;" the style is different from that of his earlier poetry, and has more of the terseness and energy of Dante than the sweetness and flow of Petrarch. It begins "Vinto dagli amorosi, empi martiri." "Subdued by the fierce pangs of my love, a thousand times have I taken up the pen, to tell thee, O gentle lady mine, all the sighs of my sick heart. Then fearing thy displeasure, I have, on a second thought, flung it from me. * * * Yet must I speak, for if words were wanting, my pallid cheek would betray my suffering." He then tells her that he does not seek her dishonour, but only her kind thoughts, and that he may find a place within her gentle heart. Perchè non cerco alcun tuo disonore, Ma sol la grazia tua, e che piaci Che'l mio albergo sia dentro al tuo core! He wishes that he might be once permitted to twine his fingers in her fair hair; to gaze into her eyes;--but he complains that she will not even meet his look,--that she resolutely turns her eyes another way at his approach.--"But do with me what thou wilt: while I live upon this earth, still I must love thee, since it so pleaseth Heaven--I swear it! and my hand writes it! * * * * * "Come then! oh come, while yet thy gracious looks may avail me, for delay is death to one who loves likes me! Would I could send with this scroll all the torture of heart, the tears and sighs, the gesture and the look, that should accompany it!" Ma s' egli avvien, che soletti ambo insieme, Posso il braccio tenerti al collo avvolto, Vedrai come d'amore alto arde e geme, Vedrai cader dal mio pallido volto, Nel tuo candido sen lagrime tante. (I leave these lines untranslated for the benefit of the Italian reader). After a few more stanzas, we have this very unequivocal passage: "O would to Heaven, lady, that marriage had made us one! ah, why didst thou not come into this world a little sooner?--or I a little later? Yet why these vain thoughts? since I am doomed to see thee the bride of another, and am myself fettered in these marriage bonds! * * * * * "Thou knowest, Madonna, that these sighs, these burning words, are not feigned; for even as Love dictates does my hand write. * * * * * "My life and death are with thee;--grant me but a few words, and I am content to live;--if not, let me die! and let my poor remains be laid in some forlorn and sequestered spot. Let none whisper the cause of my death, lest it should grieve thee! enough if some kind hand engrave upon my tomb,--'_He perished through too much love and too much cruelty._'"