You that thus wear a modest countenance With lids weigh’d down by the heart’s heaviness, Whence come you, that among you every face Appears the same, for its pale troubled glance? Have you beheld my lady’s face, perchance, Bow’d with the grief that Love makes full of grace? Say now, “This thing is thus;” as my heart says, Marking your grave and sorrowful advance. And if indeed you come from where she sighs And mourns, may it please you (for his heart’s relief) To tell how it fares with her unto him Who knows that you have wept, seeing your eyes, And is so grieved with looking on your grief That his heart trembles and his sight grows dim. _This sonnet is divided into two parts. In the first, I call and ask these ladies whether they come from her, telling them that I think they do, because they return the nobler. In the second, I pray them to tell me of her; and the second begins here, “And if indeed.”_ II. Canst thou indeed be he that still would sing Of our dear lady unto none but us? For though thy voice confirms that it is thus, Thy visage might another witness bring. And wherefore is thy grief so sore a thing That grieving thou mak’st others dolorous? Hast thou too seen her weep, that thou from us Canst not conceal thine inward sorrowing? Nay, leave our woe to us: let us alone: ’Twere sin if one should strive to soothe our woe, For in her weeping we have heard her speak: Also her look’s so full of her heart’s moan That they who should behold her, looking so, Must fall aswoon, feeling all life grow weak. _This sonnet has four parts, as the ladies in whose person I reply had four forms of answer. And, because these are sufficiently shown above, I stay not to explain the purport of the parts, and therefore I only discriminate them. The second begins here, “And wherefore is thy grief;” the third here, “Nay, leave our woe;” the fourth, “Also her look.”_ A few days after this, my body became afflicted with a painful infirmity, whereby I suffered bitter anguish for many days, which at last brought me unto such weakness that I could no longer move. And I remember that on the ninth day, being overcome with intolerable pain, a thought came into my mind concerning my lady: but when it had a little nourished this thought, my mind returned to its brooding over mine enfeebled body. And then perceiving how frail a thing life is, even though health keep with it, the matter seemed to me so pitiful that I could not choose but weep; and weeping I said within myself: “Certainly it must some time come to pass that the very gentle Beatrice will die.” Then, feeling bewildered, I closed mine eyes; and my brain began to be in travail as the brain of one frantic, and to have such imaginations as here follow.