In a letter dated May 30, 1342, Petrarch invites his friend Cardinal Johannes Columna to visit him in his mountain retreat of Vaucluse. In several places, I've come across English translations of one passage, like this by Morris Bishop, which are in the first person:
I flee men’s traces, follow the birds, love the shadows, enjoy the mossy caves and the greening fields, curse the cares of the Curia, avoid the city’s tumult, refuse to cross the thresholds of the mighty, mock the concerns of the mob.
Here's the full, original sentence in Latin, which is in the future tense and the second person:
Videbis a mane ad vesperam solivagum, herbivagum, montivagum, fontivagum, silvicolam, ruricolam, hominum vestigia fugientem, avia sectantem, amantem umbras, gaudantem antris roscidis pratisque virentibus, execrantem curas curiæ, tumultus urbium vitantem, abstinentem liminibus superborum; vulgi studia ridentem, a lætitia mœstitiaque pari spatio distantem; totis diebus ac noctibus ociosum, gloriantem musarum consortio, cantibus volucrum et lympharum murmure, paucis servis sed multis comitatum libris; et nunc domi esse, nunc ire, nunc subsistere, nunc querula in ripa, nunc tenero in gramine lassatum caput et fessa membra proiicere; et (quae non ultima solatii pars est) neminem accedere nisi perraro, qui vel millesimam vaticinari possit suarum particulam curarum.
and my attempt at a literal translation:
You'll see from morning 'til evening a solitary wanderer, a grass-wanderer, a mountain-wanderer, a spring-wanderer, a woodsman, a rustic—fleeing the footprints of humans, attending to daisies, loving the shadows, delighting in dewy caves and greening meadows, cursing the cares of the curia, shunning the bustle of the cities, keeping off the thresholds of the haughty, laughing at the preoccupations of the crowd, keeping an equal distance from joy and sorrow, idle all the days and nights, glorying in communion with the Muses, in the songs of birds and the murmur of waters—accompanied by few servants but many books—now at home, now going, now pausing, now on the bank of the warbling river, now laying his wearied head and tired limbs on the soft grass; and (which is not the least part of the relief) approaching no one except rarely—who could foretell even a thousandth part of his troubles?
I'm wondering if Petrarch is actually describing not himself but Columna. That is, is Petrarch saying, "If you come to Vaucluse, this will be you!"?
A few other facts that suggest this interpretation to me are as follows:
Columna complains to Petrarch of gout, poverty, and the troubles of old age. Petrarch's future-tense description promises an escape from troubles. See especially the rhetorical question at the end, and non ultima solatii pars, which I'm taking as "not the least part of the relief". Since Petrarch lives there and doesn't suffer from Columna's troubles, presumably he's not in need of solatio.
Among the delights to be experienced is execrantem curas curiæ. I assume that the Curia referred to is the one in Avignon, which is not far from Vaucluse. At this time, the Pope held court in Avignon rather than Rome. I don't think Petrarch was involved in Church politics, so this seems like a strange self-description to make in the future tense—and a playfully naughty one to suggest to a Cardinal.
The previous sentence is "Videbis quem desideras optime valentem, nullius egentem rei, nil magnopere de fortunæ manibus expectantem". (My attempted translation: "You'll see what/whom you desire in the best health, lacking for nothing, awaiting no great gifts from the hands of fortune.")
However, I'm not familiar enough with Latin idiom or Petrarch's style to say for sure if writing in second-person future tense about a person whom "you'll see" is analogous to the English idiom "you'll find yourself ⎯⎯⎯⎯ing". Is videbis or something similar used elsewhere with this meaning?
Of course, it could also just be a playful rhetorical device of Petrarch's, used one time only.