And as a corollary to these traits, I will quote the eleventh Sonnet as a more general picture of female loveliness, heightened by some tender touches of mental and moral beauty, such as never seem to have occurred to the debased imaginations of the classic poets: Negli occhi porta la mia Donna Amore; Perchè si fa gentil ciocch' ella mira: Ov' ella passa, ogni uom ver lei si gira; E cui saluta, fa tremar lo core, Sicchè bassando 'l viso tutto smuore, Ed ogni suo difetto allor sospira; Fugge dinanzi a lei superbia ed ira. Ajutatemi, donne, a farle onore! Ogni dolcezza, ogni pensiero umile Nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente; Onde è laudato chi prima la vide. Quel ch' ella par, quando un poco sorride No si può dicer, nè tenera mente; Si è nuovo miracolo e gentile. TRANSLATION. "Love is throned in the eyes of my Beatrice! they ennoble every thing she looks upon! As she passes, men turn and gaze; and whomsoever she salutes, his heart trembles within him; he bows his head, the colour forsakes his cheek, and he sighs for his own unworthiness. Pride and anger fly before her! Assist me, ladies, to do her honour! All sweet thoughts of humble love and good-will spring in the hearts of those who hear her speak, so that it is a blessedness first to behold her, and when she faintly and softly smiles--ah! then it passes all fancy, all expression, so wondrous is the miracle, and so gracious!"