A while after these things, two gentle ladies sent unto me, praying that I would bestow upon them certain of these my rhymes. And I (taking into account their worthiness and consideration) resolved that I would write also a new thing, and send it them together with those others, to the end that their wishes might be more honourably fulfilled. Therefore I made a sonnet, which narrates my condition, and which I caused to be conveyed to them, accompanied by the one preceding, and with that other which begins, “Stay now with me and listen to my sighs.” And the new sonnet is, “Beyond the sphere.” _This sonnet comprises five parts. In the first, I tell whither my thought goeth, naming the place by the name of one of its effects. In the second, I say wherefore it goeth up, and who makes it go thus. In the third, I tell what it saw, namely, a lady honoured. And I then call it a “Pilgrim Spirit,” because it goes up spiritually, and like a pilgrim who is out of his known country. In the fourth, I say how the spirit sees her such (that is, in such quality) that I cannot understand her; that is to say, my thought rises into the quality of her in a degree that my intellect cannot comprehend, seeing that our intellect is, towards those blessed souls, like our eye weak against the sun; and this the Philosopher says in the Second of the Metaphysics. In the fifth, I say that, although I cannot see there whither my thought carries me—that is, to her admirable essence—I at least understand this, namely, that it is a thought of my lady, because I often hear her name therein. And, at the end of this fifth part, I say, “Ladies mine,” to show that they are ladies to whom I speak. The second part begins, “A new perception;” the third, “When it hath reached;” the fourth, “It sees her such;” the fifth, “And yet I know.” It might be divided yet more nicely, and made yet clearer; but this division may pass, and therefore I stay not to divide it further._ Beyond the sphere which spreads to widest space Now soars the sigh that my heart sends above: A new perception born of grieving Love Guideth it upward the untrodden ways. When it hath reached unto the end, and stays, It sees a lady round whom splendours move In homage; till, by the great light thereof Abashed, the pilgrim spirit stands at gaze. It sees her such, that when it tells me this Which it hath seen, I understand it not, It hath a speech so subtile and so fine. And yet I know its voice within my thought Often remembereth me of Beatrice: So that I understand it, ladies mine.