Her smile is bliss to all who mourn,
Her tender love is happiness,
And for her kiss the world I scorn.
Lady of Heaven, Thy heart incline
To me, and untold bliss is mine.
By day and night my only thought
Art, Mary, Thou. I am distraught
Say many men, for few can gauge
The ardour which consumes my soul.
I care not that they say bereft
I am of sense; the world I've left,
To worship Thee, love's spring and goal.
But other poems written by Cigala are unmistakably addressed to the
celestial Madonna; some of them seem to be written in a penitential
mood; he almost seems to repent of his former passionate adoration. The
same poet, in his love-songs, uses all the metaphors which are commonly
used for Mary (or for Christ), "root and climax, flower, fruit and seed
of all goodness."
A little older is an erotic hymn to Mary by Peire Guillem of Luserna; I
quote a few stanzas:
Thy praise is happiness unmarred,
For he who praises Thee, proclaims the truth,
Thou art the flower of beauty, love and ruth,
Full of compassion, with all grace bedight,
From Thy white hands we gather all delight.
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