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BEATRICE.
By DANTE.
THIS most gentle lady reached such favor among the
people, that when she passed along the way persons
ran to see her, which gave me wonderful delight. And
when she was near any one, such modesty took possession
of his heart, that he did not dare to raise his eyes or to return
her salutation; and to this, should any one doubt it,
many, as having experienced it, could bear witness for me.
She, crowned and clothed with humility, took her way, displaying
no pride in that which she saw and heard. Many,
when she had passed, said, “This is not a woman; rather is
she one of the most beautiful angels of heaven.” Others
said, “She is a miracle. Blessed be the Lord who can perform
such a marvel!” I say that she showed herself so
gentle and so full of all beauties, that those who looked on
her felt within themselves a pure and sweet delight such as
they could not tell in words; nor was there any who could
look at her and not feel need at first to sigh. These and
more wonderful things proceeded from her, marvellously and
with power. Wherefore I, thinking on all this, proposed
to say some words, in which I would exhibit her marvellous
and excellent influences, to the end that not only
those who might actually behold her, but also others, might
know of her whatever words could tell. Then I wrote this
sonnet: —
My lady when she giveth her salute,
That every tongue becometh trembling mute,
Nor do the eyes to look upon her dare.
And though she hears her praises, she doth go
Benignly clothed with humility,
And like a thing come down she seems to be
From heaven to earth, a miracle to show.
So pleaseth she whoever cometh nigh,
She gives the heart a sweetness through the eyes,
Which none can understand who doth not prove.
And from her lip there seems indeed to move
A spirit sweet and in Love's very guise,
Which goeth saying to the soul, “Ah, sigh!”
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