There is the Rose in which the Word Divine
Became incarnate; there the lilies areBy whose perfume the good way was discovered.”
Thus Beatrice; and I, who to her counselsWas wholly ready, once again betook meUnto the battle of the feeble brows.
As in the sunshine, that unsullied streamsThrough fractured cloud, ere now a meadow of flowersMine eyes with shadow covered o’er have seen,
So troops of splendours manifold I sawIllumined from above with burning rays,Beholding not the source of the effulgence.
O power benignant that dost so imprint them!Thou didst exalt thyself to give more scopeThere to mine eyes, that were not strong enough.
The name of that fair flower I e’er invokeMorning and evening utterly enthralledMy soul to gaze upon the greater fire.
And when in both mine eyes depicted wereThe glory and greatness of the living starWhich there excelleth, as it here excelled,
Athwart the heavens a little torch descendedFormed in a circle like a coronal,And cinctured it, and whirled itself about it.