feeling itself befogged by the exhalations of that humour, which, through the exercise of contemplation, has been saved from putrefaction in the stomach and is duly digested. In this state, the present enthusiast shows himself to have remained thirty years, during which time he had not reached that purity of conception which would make him a suitable habitation for the wandering species, which offering themselves to all, equally, knock, ever at the door of the intelligence. At last, Love, who in various ways and at different times had assaulted him as it were in vain--as the light and heat of the sun are said to be useless to those who are in the opaque depths and bowels of the earth--having located itself in those sacred lights, that is having shown forth the Divine Beauty through two intelligible species the which bound his intellect through the reasoning of Truth and warmed his affections through the reasoning of Goodness; while the material and sensitive desires became superseded, which aforetime used, as it were, to triumph, remaining intact, notwithstanding the excellence of the soul. Because those lights which made present the illuminating, acting intellect and sun of intelligence found easy ingress through his eyes; that of Truth (the intellect of Truth?) through the door of the intellectual faculty; that of Goodness (intellect of Goodness?) through the door of the appetitive faculty, to the heart, that is, the substance of the general affection. This was that double ray, which came as from the hand of an irate warrior, who showed himself, now, as ready and as bold, as aforetime he had appeared weak and negligent.[I] Then, when he first felt warmed and illuminated in his conception, was that victorious point and moment of which it is said: Vicit instans. [I] He takes it by assault, without offering battle: the heart is unable to resist him.--("Spiritual Torrents.") Thus you can understand the sense of the following figure, legend and sonnet, which says:-- 49. I fought with all my strength, 'gainst Love Divine When he assailed with blows from every side This cold, enamelled, adamantine heart, Whence my desires defeated his intent. At last, one day, 'twas as the heavens had willed. Encamped I found him in those holy lights Which, through mine own alone, of all the rest An easy entrance to my heart could find. 'Twas then upon me fell that double bolt, Flung as from hand of irate warrior Who had for thirty years besieged in vain. He marked that place and strongly there he held, Planted the trophy there, and evermore He holds my fleet wings in restrainment. Meanwhile since then with more solemnity of preparation The anger and the ire of my sweet enemy Cease not to wound my heart.