written another book wherein, treating Of Friendship, he had touched upon words of the consolation of Lelius, a man of highest excellence, on the death of Scipio his friend, I set myself to reading it. And although it was at first difficult for me to enter into their meaning, finally I entered as deeply into it as my command of Latin, and what little wit I had, enabled me to do; by which wit I already began to perceive many things as in a dream; as may be seen in the Vita Nuova. And as it is wont to chance that a man goeth in search of silver and beyond his purpose findeth gold, the which some hidden cause presents, not, I take it, without divine command; so I, who was seeking to console myself, found not only a cure for my tears, but words of authors, and of sciences, and of books, pondering upon which I judged that Philosophy, who was the lady of these authors, of these sciences, and of these books, was a thing supreme; and I conceived her after the fashion of a gentle lady, and I might not conceive her in any attitude save that of compassion; wherefore the sense for truth so loved to gaze upon her that I could scarce turn it away from her; and impelled by this imagination of her, I began to go where she was in very truth revealed, to wit, to the schools of the religious orders, and to the disputations of the philosophers; so that in a short time, I suppose some thirty months, I began to feel so much of her sweetness that the love of her expelled and destroyed every other thought. Wherefore, feeling myself raised from the thought of that first love even to the virtue of this, as though in amazement I opened my mouth in the utterance of the ode before us, expressing my state under the figure of other things; because rhyme in any vernacular was unworthy to speak in open terms of the lady of whom I was enamoured; nor were the hearers so well prepared as to have easily apprehended straightforward words; nor would they have given credence to the true meaning, as they did to the fictitious; and, accordingly, folk did, in fact, altogether believe that I had

been disposed to this love, which they did not believe of the other. I began therefore to say:

Ye who by intellect the third heaven move.”

There seems no occasion to add anything to these passages: they may be allowed to speak for themselves.

APPENDIX III

I

THE MEETING OF DANTE AND BEATRICE IN THE EARTHLY

PARADISE

Purgatorio, XXX, 22–45, xxxi, xxxii, 1–9.

I have beheld, ere now, at break of day,
The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky
Oppos'd, one deep and beautiful serene,
And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists
Attemper'd at his rising, that the eye

Long while endur'd the sight: thus in a cloud
Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,
And down, within and outside of the car,

Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath'd,
A virgin in my view appear'd, beneath
Green mantle, rob'd in hue of living flame:
And o'er my spirit, that in former days
Within her presence had abode so long,

No shudd'ring terror crept. Mine eyes no more
Had knowledge of her; yet there mov'd from her
A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak'd,
The power of ancient love was strong within me.
No sooner on my vision streaming, smote
The heav'nly influence, which, years past, and e'en
In childhood, thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I

Turn'd me to leftward, panting, like a babe,
That flees for refuge to his mother's breast,
If aught have terrified or work'd him woe:
And would have cried: "There is no dram of blood,
That doth not quiver in me. The old flame

Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire;"

But Virgil had bereav'd us of himself,
Virgil, my best-lov'd father; Virgil, he
To whom I gave me up for safety: nor,
All, our prime mother lost, avail'd to save
My undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears.
"Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay,
Weep thou not yet: behoves thee feel the edge
Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that."
As to the prow or stern, some admiral
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,

When 'mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof;
Thus on the left side of the car I saw

(Turning me at the sound of mine own name,
Which here I am compell'd to register)

The virgin station'd, who before appear'd
Veil'd in that festive shower angelical.

Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound
With foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not
That I beheld her clearly; then with act
Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall,
Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back
The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am
Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign'd at last
Approach the mountain? Knewest not, O man!
Thy happiness is here?"
Down fell mine eyes
On the clear fount, but there, myself espying,
Recoil'd, and sought the greensward: such a weight
Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien

Of that stern majesty, which doth surround
A mother's presence to her awe-struck child,
She look'd; a flavour of such bitterness
Was mingled in her pity. There her words
Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang:
"In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:
But went no farther than, "Thou, Lord, hast set
My feet in ample room.' As snow, that lies
Amidst the living rafters on the back

Of Italy congeal'd, when drifted high

And closely pil'd by rough Sclavonian blasts,
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,
And straightway melting it distils away,
Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,
Without a sigh or tear, or ever these

Did sing, that with the chiming of heav'n's sphere,
Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain
Of dulcet symphony, express'd for me

Their soft compassion, more than could the words "Virgin, why so consum'st him?" then the ice, Congeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself

To spirit and water, and with anguish forth
Gush'd through the lips and eyelids from the heart.
Upon the chariot's right edge still she stood,
Immovable, and thus address'd her words
To those bright semblances with pity touch'd:
"Ye, in th' eternal day your vigils keep,

So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,
Conveys from you a single step in all

The goings on of life: thence with more heed

I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,

Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now
May equal the transgression. Not alone

Through operations of the mighty orbs,
That mark each seed to some predestin'd aim,
As with aspect or fortunate or ill