(2) So thick a veil ne'er made upon its current In winter-time Danube in Austria, Nor there beneath the frigid sky the Don, As there was here; so that if Tambernich Had fallen upon it, or Pietrapana, E'en at the edge 'twould not have given a creak. And as to croak the frog doth place himself With muzzle out of water,—when is dreaming Of gleaning oftentimes the peasant-girl,— Livid, as far down as where shame appears, Were the disconsolate shades within the ice, Setting their teeth unto the note of storks. Each one his countenance held downward bent; From mouth the cold, from eyes the doleful heart Among them witness of itself procures. When round about me somewhat I had looked, I downward turned me, and saw two so close, The hair upon their heads together mingled. "Ye who so strain your breasts together, tell me," I said, "who are you;" and they bent their necks, And when to me their faces they had lifted, Their eyes, which first were only moist within, Gushed o'er the eyelids, and the frost congealed The tears between, and locked them up again.

(2) And lo! my further course a stream cut off, Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. All waters that on earth most limpid are Would seem to have within themselves some mixture Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown current Under the shade perpetual, that never Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon. With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed Beyond the rivulet, to look upon The great variety of the fresh may. And there appeared to me (even as appears Suddenly something that doth turn aside Through very wonder every other thought) A lady all alone, who went along Singing and culling floweret after floweret, With which her pathway was all painted over. "Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks, Which the heart's witnesses are wont to be, May the desire come unto thee to draw Near to this river's bank," I said to her, "So much that I might hear what thou art singing.

(1) In that part of the youthful year wherein The Sun his locks beneath Aquarius tempers, And now the nights draw near to half the day, What time the hoar-frost copies on the ground The outward semblance of her sister white, But little lasts the temper of her pen, The husbandman, whose forage faileth him, Rises, and looks, and seeth the champaign All gleaming white, whereat he beats his flank, Returns in doors, and up and down laments, Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do; Then he returns and hope revives again, Seeing the world has changed its countenance In little time, and takes his shepherd's crook, And forth the little lambs to pasture drives. Thus did the Master fill me with alarm, When I beheld his forehead so disturbed, And to the ailment came as soon the plaster. For as we came unto the ruined bridge, The Leader turned to me with that sweet look Which at the mountain's foot I first beheld. His arms he opened, after some advisement Within himself elected, looking first Well at the ruin, and laid hold of me.

(3) But say if him I here behold, who forth Evoked the new-invented rhymes, beginning, 'Ladies, that have intelligence of love?'" And I to him: "One am I, who, whenever Love doth inspire me, note, and in that measure Which he within me dictates, singing go." "O brother, now I see," he said, "the knot Which me, the Notary, and Guittone held Short of the sweet new style that now I hear. I do perceive full clearly how your pens Go closely following after him who dictates, Which with our own forsooth came not to pass; And he who sets himself to go beyond, No difference sees from one style to another;" And as if satisfied, he held his peace. Even as the birds, that winter tow'rds the Nile, Sometimes into a phalanx form themselves, Then fly in greater haste, and go in file; In such wise all the people who were there, Turning their faces, hurried on their steps, Both by their leanness and their wishes light. And as a man, who weary is with trotting, Lets his companions onward go, and walks, Until he vents the panting of his chest;

(1) It was the hour when the diurnal heat No more can warm the coldness of the moon, Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn, When geomancers their Fortuna Major See in the orient before the dawn Rise by a path that long remains not dim, There came to me in dreams a stammering woman, Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted, With hands dissevered and of sallow hue. I looked at her; and as the sun restores The frigid members which the night benumbs, Even thus my gaze did render voluble Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter In little while, and the lost countenance As love desires it so in her did colour. When in this wise she had her speech unloosed, She 'gan to sing so, that with difficulty Could I have turned my thoughts away from her. "I am," she sang, "I am the Siren sweet Who mariners amid the main unman, So full am I of pleasantness to hear. I drew Ulysses from his wandering way Unto my song, and he who dwells with me Seldom departs so wholly I content him."

(5) And first, and near the ending of these words, "Sperent in te" from over us was heard, To which responsive answered all the carols. Thereafterward a light among them brightened, So that, if Cancer one such crystal had, Winter would have a month of one sole day. And as uprises, goes, and enters the dance A winsome maiden, only to do honour To the new bride, and not from any failing, Even thus did I behold the brightened splendour Approach the two, who in a wheel revolved As was beseeming to their ardent love. Into the song and music there it entered; And fixed on them my Lady kept her look, Even as a bride silent and motionless. "This is the one who lay upon the breast Of him our Pelican; and this is he To the great office from the cross elected." My Lady thus; but therefore none the more Did move her sight from its attentive gaze Before or afterward these words of hers. Even as a man who gazes, and endeavours To see the eclipsing of the sun a little, And who, by seeing, sightless doth become,

(3) For some men are so cumbered in nice curious customs in bodily bearing, that when they shall ought hear, they writhe their heads on one side quaintly, and up with the chin: they gape with their mouths as they should hear with their mouth and not with their ears. Some when they should speak point with their fingers, either on their fingers, or on their own breasts, or on theirs that they speak to. Some can neither sit still, stand still, nor lie still, unless they be either wagging with their feet or else somewhat doing with their hands. Some row with their arms in time of their speaking, as them needed for to swim over a great water. Some be evermore smiling and laughing at every other word that they speak, as they were giggling girls and nice japing jugglers lacking behaviour. Seemly cheer were full fair, with sober and demure bearing of body and mirth in manner.

(1) In fashion then as of a snow-white rose Displayed itself to me the saintly host, Whom Christ in his own blood had made his bride, But the other host, that flying sees and sings The glory of Him who doth enamour it, And the goodness that created it so noble, Even as a swarm of bees, that sinks in flowers One moment, and the next returns again To where its labour is to sweetness turned, Sank into the great flower, that is adorned With leaves so many, and thence reascended To where its love abideth evermore. Their faces had they all of living flame, And wings of gold, and all the rest so white No snow unto that limit doth attain. From bench to bench, into the flower descending, They carried something of the peace and ardour Which by the fanning of their flanks they won. Nor did the interposing 'twixt the flower And what was o'er it of such plenitude Of flying shapes impede the sight and splendour; Because the light divine so penetrates The universe, according to its merit, That naught can be an obstacle against it.

(4) I do not think her mother loves me more, Since she has laid aside her wimple white, Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again. Through her full easily is comprehended How long in woman lasts the fire of love, If eye or touch do not relight it often. So fair a hatchment will not make for her The Viper marshalling the Milanese A-field, as would have made Gallura's Cock." In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal Which measurably burneth in the heart. My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven, Still to that point where slowest are the stars, Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle. And my Conductor: "Son, what dost thou gaze at Up there?" And I to him: "At those three torches With which this hither pole is all on fire." And he to me: "The four resplendent stars Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low, And these have mounted up to where those were." As he was speaking, to himself Sordello Drew him, and said, "Lo there our Adversary!" And pointed with his finger to look thither.

(1) Singing like unto an enamoured lady She, with the ending of her words, continued: "Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata." And even as Nymphs, that wandered all alone Among the sylvan shadows, sedulous One to avoid and one to see the sun, She then against the stream moved onward, going Along the bank, and I abreast of her, Her little steps with little steps attending. Between her steps and mine were not a hundred, When equally the margins gave a turn, In such a way, that to the East I faced. Nor even thus our way continued far Before the lady wholly turned herself Unto me, saying, "Brother, look and listen!" And lo! a sudden lustre ran across On every side athwart the spacious forest, Such that it made me doubt if it were lightning. But since the lightning ceases as it comes, And that continuing brightened more and more, Within my thought I said, "What thing is this?" And a delicious melody there ran Along the luminous air, whence holy zeal Made me rebuke the hardihood of Eve;

(1) If e'er it happen that the Poem Sacred, To which both heaven and earth have set their hand, So that it many a year hath made me lean, O'ercome the cruelty that bars me out From the fair sheepfold, where a lamb I slumbered, An enemy to the wolves that war upon it, With other voice forthwith, with other fleece Poet will I return, and at my font Baptismal will I take the laurel crown; Because into the Faith that maketh known All souls to God there entered I, and then Peter for her sake thus my brow encircled. Thereafterward towards us moved a light Out of that band whence issued the first-fruits Which of his vicars Christ behind him left, And then my Lady, full of ecstasy, Said unto me: "Look, look! behold the Baron For whom below Galicia is frequented." In the same way as, when a dove alights Near his companion, both of them pour forth, Circling about and murmuring, their affection, So one beheld I by the other grand Prince glorified to be with welcome greeted, Lauding the food that there above is eaten.

(1) Eager already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day, Withouten more delay I left the bank, Taking the level country slowly, slowly Over the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance. A softly-breathing air, that no mutation Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me No heavier blow than of a gentle wind, Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous, Did all of them bow downward toward that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain; Yet not from their upright direction swayed, So that the little birds upon their tops Should leave the practice of each art of theirs; But with full ravishment the hours of prime, Singing, received they in the midst of leaves, That ever bore a burden to their rhymes, Such as from branch to branch goes gathering on Through the pine forest on the shore of Chiassi, When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. Already my slow steps had carried me Into the ancient wood so far, that I Could not perceive where I had entered it.

(4) And of them was the singing of those lights. Who takes not wings that he may fly up thither, The tidings thence may from the dumb await! As soon as singing thus those burning suns Had round about us whirled themselves three times, Like unto stars neighbouring the steadfast poles, Ladies they seemed, not from the dance released, But who stop short, in silence listening Till they have gathered the new melody. And within one I heard beginning: "When The radiance of grace, by which is kindled True love, and which thereafter grows by loving, Within thee multiplied is so resplendent That it conducts thee upward by that stair, Where without reascending none descends, Who should deny the wine out of his vial Unto thy thirst, in liberty were not Except as water which descends not seaward. Fain wouldst thou know with what plants is enflowered This garland that encircles with delight The Lady fair who makes thee strong for heaven. Of the lambs was I of the holy flock Which Dominic conducteth by a road Where well one fattens if he strayeth not.

(3) Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth. And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire? Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such. Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward To wait for further blows, or little girl, Or other vanity of such brief use. The callow birdlet waits for two or three, But to the eyes of those already fledged, In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot." Even as children silent in their shame Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, And conscious of their fault, and penitent; So was I standing; and she said: "If thou In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing." With less resistance is a robust holm Uprooted, either by a native wind Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,

(1) To run o'er better waters hoists its sail The little vessel of my genius now, That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel; And of that second kingdom will I sing Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself, And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy. But let dead Poesy here rise again, O holy Muses, since that I am yours, And here Calliope somewhat ascend, My song accompanying with that sound, Of which the miserable magpies felt The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon. Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire, That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect Of the pure air, as far as the first circle, Unto mine eyes did recommence delight Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast. The beauteous planet, that to love incites, Was making all the orient to laugh, Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort. To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind Upon the other pole, and saw four stars Ne'er seen before save by the primal people.

(85) Before Thy burning throne the angels wait, Much-working, charged to do all things, for men. Thy young Spring shines, all prank'd with purple flowers; Thy Winter with its chilling clouds assails; Three Autumn noisy Bacchus distributes."

(30) Râ springs forth with a fair wind; the Evening Bark speeds on and reaches the Haven; the crew of Râ are in exultation when they look upon him; the Mistress of Life, her heart is delighted at the overthrow of the adversary of her Lord

(4) And I began: "O Poet, willingly Speak would I to those two, who go together, And seem upon the wind to be so light." And, he to me: "Thou'lt mark, when they shall be Nearer to us; and then do thou implore them By love which leadeth them, and they will come." Soon as the wind in our direction sways them, My voice uplift I: "O ye weary souls! Come speak to us, if no one interdicts it." As turtle-doves, called onward by desire, With open and steady wings to the sweet nest Fly through the air by their volition borne, So came they from the band where Dido is, Approaching us athwart the air malign, So strong was the affectionate appeal. "O living creature gracious and benignant, Who visiting goest through the purple air Us, who have stained the world incarnadine, If were the King of the Universe our friend, We would pray unto him to give thee peace, Since thou hast pity on our woe perverse. Of what it pleases thee to hear and speak, That will we hear, and we will speak to you, While silent is the wind, as it is now.

(2) Within the crystal which, around the world Revolving, bears the name of its dear leader, Under whom every wickedness lay dead, Coloured like gold, on which the sunshine gleams, A stairway I beheld to such a height Uplifted, that mine eye pursued it not. Likewise beheld I down the steps descending So many splendours, that I thought each light That in the heaven appears was there diffused. And as accordant with their natural custom The rooks together at the break of day Bestir themselves to warm their feathers cold; Then some of them fly off without return, Others come back to where they started from, And others, wheeling round, still keep at home; Such fashion it appeared to me was there Within the sparkling that together came, As soon as on a certain step it struck, And that which nearest unto us remained Became so clear, that in my thought I said, "Well I perceive the love thou showest me; But she, from whom I wait the how and when Of speech and silence, standeth still; whence I Against desire do well if I ask not."

(1) Men subdued by women's wiles. In this manner she pleaded with gentle coaxing, How could his firmness and endurance abide When even without tears she could charm his heart? That rain brought forth a flash of lightning Since the man was the slave of her fair face, How was it when she stooped to slavish entreaties? When she whose airs set thy heart a-quaking, When she weeps, how feelest thou then? When she whose coquetry makes thy heart bleed