Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 11
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Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern — Volume 11
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So gentle and so gracious doth appear
My lady when she giveth her salute,
That every tongue becometh, trembling, mute;
Nor do the eyes to look upon her dare.
Although she hears her praises, she doth go
Benignly vested with humility;
And like a thing come down she seems to be
From heaven to earth, a miracle to show.
So pleaseth she whoever cometh nigh,
She gives the heart a sweetness through the eyes,
Which none can understand who doth not prove.
And from her countenance there seems to move
A spirit sweet and in Love's very guise,
Who to the soul, in going, sayeth: Sigh!
V
THE DEATH OF HIS LADY
After that I began to think one day upon what I had said of my lady,
that is, in these two preceding sonnets; and seeing in my thought that I
had not spoken of that which at the present time she wrought in me, it
seemed to me that I had spoken defectively; and therefore I resolved to
say words in which I would tell how I seemed to myself to be disposed to
her influence, and how her virtue wrought in me. And not believing that
I could relate this in the brevity of a sonnet, I began then a canzone.
_Quomodo sedet sola civitas plena populo! facta est quasi vidua
domina gentium._ [How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of
people! How is she become as a widow! she that was great among the
nations.]
I was yet full of the design of this canzone, and had completed [one]
stanza thereof, when the Lord of Justice called this most gentle one to
glory, under the banner of that holy Queen Mary, whose name was ever
spoken with greatest reverence by this blessed Beatrice.
VI
THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE DEATH OF HIS LADY
On that day on which the year was complete since this lady was made one
of the denizens of life eternal, I was seated in a place where, having
her in mind, I was drawing an angel upon certain tablets. And while I
was drawing it, I turned my eyes and saw at my side men to whom it was
meet to do honor. They were looking on what I did, and, as was
afterwards told me, they had been there already some time before I
became aware of it. When I saw them I rose, and saluting them, said,
"Another was just now with me, and on that account I was in thought."
And when they had gone away, I returned to my work, namely, that of
drawing figures of angels; and while doing this, a thought came to me of
saying words in rhyme, as if for an anniversary poem of her, and of
addressing those persons who had come to me.
After this, two gentle ladies sent to ask me to send them some of these
rhymed words of mine; wherefore I, thinking on their nobleness, resolved
to send to them and to make a new thing which I would send to them with
these, in order that I might fulfill their prayers with the more honor.
And I devised then a sonnet which relates my condition, and I sent it to
them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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