From Petrarca: Solo e pensoso i più deserti campi

Lonely and pensive o'er the lonely strand,
" With wandering steps and slow," I loiter on,
My eyes at watch, to warn me to be gone
If mark of human foot impress the sand ;
Else would my piteous plight be rudely scann'd,
And curious folk would stare to see the wan
And deathlike images of joy foregone,
And how I inly waste like smouldering brand.
Or I would fain believe the tangled wood
Which girds the small field on the mountain side
The one sole witness to my crazy mood ;
But ah ! what sandy waste, or forest dim,
My haunt obscure from Love can ever hide ?
Where'er I think, I converse hold with him.