A spirit full of mildness and of love,
Which says forever to the soul, O sigh.

He the perfection sees of every grace,

Who doth my lady among ladies see.
They who partake her company are bound
To render thanks to heaven for boon so fair.

Her beauty, too, has virtue so benign,

That it excites no envy in another,

But a resolve to walk like her, arrayed

In gentleness, fidelity, and love.

Her look on all things sheds humility,

And makes her not alone delight the eye,

But everything through her receiveth honor.

And she so perfect is in all her acts,

That no one can recall her to the mind
Who doth not sigh amid the sweets of Love.

A lady, piteous, and of tender age,

Richly adorned with human gentleness,
Stood where I oft was calling upon death;
And seeing that my eyes were full of grief,
And listening to the folly of my words,
Was moved by fear to weep with bitterness.
And other ladies, who were kindly drawn.
To notice me, through her who wept with me,
Removed her from my side,

And then approached, to rouse me by their voice.
And one said, Sleep no more!

Another said, Why thus discomfort thee?
Then fled the strange distressing fantasy,
As I was calling on my lady's name.
So indistinct and mournful was my voice,

And broken so by anguish and by tears,
That in my heart I only heard the name:
And with a countenance o'erspread with shame,

So strongly it had mounted to my face,
Love made me turn to them distractedly;
And such was my complexion to the sight,
That it led others to discourse of death.

O let us comfort him,

Said each one to the other tenderly.

And oft they said to me,

What hast thou seen that has unmanned thee thus?
And when I had regained some strength, I said,
Ladies, to you I will relate the whole.

Whilst I lay pondering on my ebbing life,

And saw how brief its tenure and how frail,
Love wept within my heart, where he abides;
For my unhappy soul was wandering so,
That sighing heavily, it said, in thought,

My lady too most certainly shall die.
Such consternation then my reason seized,

That my eyes closed through fear and heaviness;
And scattered far and wide

My spirits fled, and each in error strayed:

Imagination then,

Bereft of understanding and of truth,

Showed me the forms of ladies in distress,

Who said to me, Thou die'st, ay, thou shalt die.

Many the doubtful things which next I saw,

While wandering in imagination's maze;
I seemed to be I know not in what place,
And to see ladies pass with hair all loose,
Some weeping, and some uttering loud laments,
Which darted burning grief into the soul.
And then methought I saw a thickening veil
Obscure the sun, and night's fair star appear,

And sun and star both weep;

Birds flying through the dusky air drop down,
And earth itself to shake;

And then appeared a man, feeble, and pale,

Saying, What dost thou here? Hast thou not heard?
Dead is thy lady, she who was so fair.

I raised mine eyes, oppressed and bathed in tears,
And saw what like a shower of manna seemed,
And angels re-ascending up to heaven;

And spread before them was a little cloud,
Behind which they were chanting loud, Hosanna.
And if they more had added, you should hear.
Then Love thus spoke: Concealment here shall end;
Come now and see our lady on her bier.

Deceitful fancy then

Conducted me to see my lady dead:

And while I gazed, I saw

That ladies with a veil were covering her;

And in her face humility so true

There was, it seemed to say, I am in peace.

So humble in my sorrow I became,

Seeing such humbleness in her expressed,
That I exclaimed, O Death! I hold thee sweet;
Thou must be deemed, henceforth, a gentle thing,
Since thou hast been united to my lady,
And pity thou should'st have, and not disdain:
Behold me so desirous to be one

Of thine, that I resemble thee in faith:
Come, for the heart entreats thee.

Then, all sad rites being o'er, I went my way;
And when I was alone,

I said, with eyes upraised to realms above;

Blessed is he who sees thee, beauteous soul!

'Twas then you called to me, thanks to your love.

Say, pilgrims, ye who go thus pensively,

Musing, perchance, on things that distant are,
Come ye from land and men so far away,
As by your outward mien ye show to us,
That ye weep not when passing through the midst
Of the dejected city, in her woe,

Seeming as persons who have never heard
Of the calamity oppressing her?

If ye remain and have the will to hear,

This heart of sighs assures me ye will then Share in our grief, and weep when ye depart. The desolate city mourns her Beatrice,

And in the tale that may be told of her
Is virtue to force every one to weep.

Remembrance had brought back into my mind
That gentle lady for whom Love doth weep,
At the same instant that his influence
Drew your regard to what engaged me.
Love, who perceived her presence in the mind,
Had waked from slumber in my wretched heart,
And calling to the sighs, exclaimed, Go forth!
They heard, and each departed mournfully.
Weeping they issued from my breast, with voice

Of grief, which often brings to the sad eyes
The bitter tears of my unhappiness.

But those which issued forth with greater pain
Went saying, Noble intellect, this day

Completes the year since thy ascent to heaven.

Farewell, alas! farewell those tresses bright,

From whence the hills around

Drew and reflected tints of shining gold;

Farewell the beauteous cheer, and glances sweet,
Implanted in my heart

By those fair eyes on that thrice happy day;

Farewell the graceful bloom

Of sparkling countenance;

Farewell the soft sweet smile,

Disclosing pearls of snowy white, between

Roses of vermeil hue, throughout the year;

Why without me, O Death,

These hast thou carried off in beauty's spring?

Farewell the endearing mirth, and wise reserve,
The welcome frank and sweet;

The prudent mind, and well-directed heart;
Farewell the beautiful, meek, proud disdain,
Which strengthened my resolve

All baseness to detest, and greatness love.
Farewell desire, the child

Of beauty so abounding;

Farewell the aspiring hope,

Which every other made me leave behind,

And rendered light to me Love's heaviest load;

These hast thou broken, Death,

As glass and me to living death exposed.

Lady, farewell! Of every virtue queen,
Goddess, for whom, through Love,

I have refused all others to adore;

Farewell! What column, of what precious stone,
On earth were worthy found

To build thy fane, and lift thee high in air?
Farewell! thou vessel filled

With nature's miracles.

By fortune's evil turn

High on the rugged mountains thou wast led,
Where death has closed thee in the cruel tomb;
And of my eyes hath formed

Two fountains wearied with incessant tears.

Farewell! and O unpardonable Death,

Pity these sorrowing eyes, and own at least,
That till thy hand destroy me,

Endless should be my cry, Alas! Farewell!