Dante Alighieri (Florence, 1265 – Ravenna, 1321)

From Vita Nova

I. (1) In my Book of Memory, in the early part where there is little to be read, there comes a
chapter with the rubric: Incipit vita nova1. It is my intention to copy into this little book the
words I find written under that heading - if not all of them, at least the essence of their
meaning.
II. (1) Nine times already since my birth the heaven of light had circled back to almost the
same point, when there appeared before my eyes the now glorious lady of my mind, who
was called Beatrice even by those who did not know what her name was. (2) She had been
in this life long enough for the heaven of the fixed stars to be able to move a twelfth of a
degree to the East in her time; that is, she appeared to me at about the beginning of her
ninth year, and I first saw her near the end of my ninth year. (3) She appeared dressed in the
most patrician of colors, a subdued and decorous crimson, her robe bound round and
adorned in a style suitable to her years.
(4) At that very moment, and I speak the truth, the vital spirit, the one that dwells in the
most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble so violently that even the most minute
veins of my body were strangely affected; and trembling, it spoke these words: Ecce deus
fortior me, qui veniens dominabitur michi2. (5) At that point the animal spirit, the one
abiding in the high chamber to which all the senses bring their perceptions, was stricken
with amazement and, speaking directly to the spirits of sight, said these words: Apparuit
iam beatitudo vestra3. (6) At that point the natural spirit, the one dwelling in that part where
our food is digested, began to weep, and weeping said these words: Heu miser, quia
frequenter impeditus ero deinceps!4
(7) Let me say that, from that time on, Love governed my soul, which became
immediately devoted to him, and he reigned over me with such assurance and lordship,
given him by the power of my imagination, that I could only dedicate myself to fulfilling
his every pleasure. (8) Often he commanded me to go and look for this youngest of angels;
so, during those early years I often went in search of her, and I found her to be of such
natural dignity and worthy of such admiration that the words of the poet Homer suited her
perfectly: "She seemed to be the daughter not of a mortal, but of a god." (9) And
though her image, which remained constantly with me, was Love's assurance of holding
me, it was of such a pure quality that it never allowed me to be ruled by Love without
the faithful counsel of reason, in all those things where such advice might be profitable.
[…]

1
“Here begins the period of my boyhood” or “here begins a new life”
2
“Behold a god more powerful than I who comes to rule over me”
3
“Now your source of joy has been revealed”
4
“Woe is me! For I shall often be impeded from now on!”
III. (1) After so many days had passed that precisely nine years were ending since the
appearance, just described, of this most gracious lady, it happened that on the last one of
those days the miraculous lady appeared, dressed in purest white, between two ladies of noble
bearing both older than she was; and passing along a certain street, she turned her eyes to
where I was standing faint-hearted and, with that indescribable graciousness for which today
she is rewarded in the eternal life, she greeted me so miraculously that I seemed at that
moment to behold the entire range of possible bliss.
(2) It was precisely the ninth hour of that day, three o'clock in the afternoon, when her sweet
greeting came to me. Since this was the first time her words had ever been directed to me, I
became so ecstatic that, like a drunken man, I turned away from everyone and I sought the
loneliness of my room, where I began thinking of this most gracious lady and, (3) thinking
of her, I fell into a sweet sleep, and a marvelous vision appeared to me. I seemed to see a
cloud the color of fire and, in that cloud, a lordly man, frightening to behold, yet he seemed
also to be wondrously filled with joy. He spoke and said many things, of which I understood
only a few; one was Ego dominus tuus5.
(4) I seemed to see in his arms a sleeping figure, naked but lightly wrapped in a crimson
cloth; looking intently at this figure, I recognized the lady of the greeting, the lady who earlier
in the day had deigned to greet me. (5) In one hand he seemed to be holding something that
was all in flames, and it seemed to me that he said these words: Vide cor tuum6.
(6) And after some time had passed, he seemed to awaken the one who slept, and he forced
her cunningly to eat of that burning object in his hand; she ate of it timidly. (7) A short time
after this, his happiness gave way to bitterest weeping, and weeping he folded his arms
around this lady, and together they seemed to ascend toward the heavens. At that point my
drowsy sleep could not bear the anguish that I felt; it was broken and I awoke […]
IV. (1) I must tell you that whenever and wherever she appeared, I, in anticipation of her
miraculous greeting, could not have considered any man my enemy; on the contrary, a flame
of charity was lit within me and made me forgive whoever had offended me. And if, at
this moment, anyone had asked me about anything, I could only have answered, my
face all kindness: "Love."
(2) And when she was about to greet me, one of Love's spirits, annihilating all the others of
the senses, would drive out the feeble spirits of sight, saying to them, "Go and pay homage
to your mistress," and Love would take their place. And if anyone had wished to know Love,
he might have done so by looking at my glistening eyes […]
XVI. (1) Soon after completing this sonnet I was moved by a desire to write more poetry, in
which I would mention four more things concerning my condition which, it seemed to me, I
had not yet made clear.

5
“I am your Master”
6
“Behold your heart”
(2) The first of these is that many times I suffered when my memory excited my imagination
to re-evoke the transformations that Love worked in me. (3) The second is that Love,
frequently and without warning, attacked me so violently that no part of me remained alive
except one thought that spoke of this lady. (4) The third is that when this battle of Love raged
within me so, I would go, pale and haggard, to look upon this lady, believing that the sight
of her would defend me in this battle, forgetting what happened to me whenever I approached
such graciousness. (5) The fourth is that not only did the sight of her not defend me: it
ultimately annihilated the little life I had left. (6) And so I wrote this sonnet which
begins: Many a time the thought returns to me
Many a time the thought returns to me:
What sad conditions Love on me bestows!
And moved by Pity I say frequently:
‘Can there be anyone who my state knows?

For Love takes hold of me so suddenly

My vital spirits I am near to lose,
One only of them all survives in me,
And to its words of you its life it owes.

To aid me then my forces I renew,

And pallid, all my courage drained long since,
I come to you to remedy my plight;
But if I raise my eyes to look at you
So vast a tremor in my heart begins
My beating pulses put my soul to flight.

XIX

Ladies who know by insight what love is,

With you about my Lady I would treat,
Not that I think her praises I’ll complete,
But seeking by my words to ease my mind.
When I consider all her qualities
I say that Love steals over me so sweet
That if my courage then did not retreat
By speaking I’d enamour all mankind.
Yet words not too exalted I would find,
Lest base timidity my mind possess;
But lightly touch upon her graciousness,

Leaving her worth by this to be divined,

With you, ladies and maidens who know love.
To others it may not be spoken of.
To the all-knowing mind an angel prays:
 ‘Lord, in the world a miracle proceeds,
In act and visible, from a soul’s deeds,
Whose splendour reaches to this very height.’
One imperfection only Heaven has:
The lack of her; so now for her it pleads
And every saint with clamour intercedes.
Only compassion is our advocate.
God understands to whom their prayers relate
And answers them: ‘My loved ones, bear in peace
That she, your hope, remain until I please
Where one knows he must lose her, soon or late,
And who will say in Hell: “Souls unconfessed
I have beheld the hope of Heaven’s blessed.”

My lady is desired in highest heaven.

Now of her excellence I’d have you hear.
All ladies who would noble be, draw near
And walk with her, for as she goes her way
A chill in evil hearts by Love is driven,
Causing all thoughts to freeze and perish there.
If any such endured to look on her
He would be changed to good or die straightway.
If any man she find who worthy be
To look at her, her virtue then he knows,
For, greeting him, salvation she bestows,
In meekness melting every grudge away.
With further grace has God endowed her still:
Whoe’er did speak with her shall not fare ill.

Love says of her: ‘How can a mortal thing

Have purity and beauty such as hers?’
Then looks again and to himself he swears
A marvel she must be which God intends.
Pearl-like, not to excess, her colouring,
As suited to a lady’s face, appears.
She is the sum of nature’s universe.
To her perfection all of beauty tends.
Forth from her eyes, where’er her gaze she bends,
Come spirits flaming with the power of love.
Whoever sees her then, his eyes they prove,
Passing within until the heart each finds.
You will see Love depicted in her smile,
Where none may gaze save for a little while.

My song, you will go parleying, I know,

With many ladies, when I give consent.
Since I have raised you without ornament
As Love’s young daughter, hear now what I say.
Of those about you, beg assistance, so:
‘Tell me which way to take, for I am sent
To her whose praise is my embellishment.’
If you would journey there without delay
Among the base and vulgar do not stay.
Contrive to show your meaning, if you can,
Only to ladies or a courteous man.
They will conduct you by the quickest way.
You will find Love abiding with her beauty.
Commend me to my Lord, as is your duty.

XLI

Beyond the widest of the circling spheres

A sigh which leaves my heart aspires to move.
A new celestial influence which Love
Bestows on it by virtue of his tears
Impels it ever upwards. As it nears
Its goal of longing in the realms above
The pilgrim spirit sees a vision of
A soul in glory whom the host reveres.
Gazing at her, it speaks of what it sees
In subtle words I do not comprehend
Within my heart forlorn which bids it tell.
That noble one is named, I apprehend,
For frequently it mentions Beatrice;
This much, beloved ladies, I know well.

XLII

(1) After I wrote this sonnet there came to me a miraculous vision in which I saw things that
made me resolve to say no more about this blessèd one until I would be capable of writing
about her in a nobler way. (2) To achieve this I am striving as hard as I can, and this she truly
knows. Accordingly, if it be the pleasure of Him through whom all things live that my life
continue for a few more years, I hope to write of her that which has never been written of
any other woman. (3) And then may it please the One who is the Lord of graciousness that
my soul ascend to behold the glory of its lady, that is, of that blessèd Beatrice, who in glory
contemplates the countenance of the One qui est per omnia secula benedictus.

The Divine Comedy

From Inferno II (Virgil speaks about Beatrice’s visit from Heaven):
40 To free you from this fear
50 I’ll tell you why I came and what I heard
51 when first I felt compassion for you.
52 I was among the ones who are suspended
32 When a lady called me, so blessèd and so fair
54 That I implored her to command me.
55 Her eyes shone brighter than the stars.
56 Gentle and clear, the words she spoke to me –
57 An angel’s voice was in her speech:
58 ‘O courteous Mantuan spirit,
59 whose fame continues in the world
60 and shall continue while the world endures,
61 ‘my Friend, who is no friend of Fortune,
62 is so hindered on his way upon the desert slope
63 that, in his terror, he has turned back,
64 and, from what I hear of him in Heaven,
65 I fear he has gone so far astray
66 that I arose too late to help him.
67 Set out, and with your polished words
68 and whatever else is needed for his safety,
69 go to his aid, that I may be consoled.
70 I who bid you go am Beatrice.
71 I come from where I most desire to return.
72 The love that moved me makes me speak.’

From Purgatorio XXX

64 I saw the lady, who had just appeared

65 veiled beneath the angels' celebration,
66 fix her eyes on me from across the stream.
67 Although the veil, encircled with Minerva's leaves
68 and descending from her head,
69 did not allow me unrestricted sight,
70 regally, with scorn still in her bearing,
71 she continued like one who, even as he speaks,
72 holds back his hottest words:
73 'Look over here! I am, I truly am Beatrice.
74 How did you dare approach the mountain?
75 Do you not know that here man lives in joy?'
76 I lowered my eyes to the clear water.
77 But when I saw myself reflected, I drew them back
78 toward the grass, such shame weighed on my brow.
79 As a mother may seem overbearing to her child,
80 so she seemed to me, for the taste
81 of such stern pity is a bitter taste.
82 Then she fell silent and at once
83 the angels sang: 'In te, Domine, speravi,'
84 but did not sing past 'pedes meos.'
85 Even as the snow among those living beams
86 that grow along the spine of Italy is frozen
87 when blown and packed by the Slavonian winds
88 but then, dissolving, melts into itself
89 if the land that casts no shadow merely breathes,
90 acting like a flame that makes a candle melt,
91 just so was I with neither tears nor sighs
92 before they sang who always are in tune
93 with notes set down in the eternal spheres,
94 but, when their lovely harmonies revealed
95 their sympathy for me, more than if they'd said:
96 'Lady, why do you torment him so?'
97 the ice that had confined my heart
98 was turned to breath and water and in anguish
99 flowed from my breast through eyes and mouth.
100 As yet she stood, motionless,
101 on the same side of the chariot,
102 then turned her words to the pitying angels:
103 'You keep your watch in the eternal day
104 so neither night nor sleep deprives you
105 of a single step that time takes in its course.
106 'Therefore my response is made with greater care
107 that he who is weeping over there should listen,
108 so that his sin and sorrow be of equal measure.
109 'Not only by the working of the wheels above.
110 that urge each seed to a certain end
111 according to the stars that cluster with them,
112 'but by grace, abundant and divine,
113 which rains from clouds so high above
114 our sight cannot come near them,
115 'this man in his new life potentially was such
116 that each good disposition in him
117 would have come to marvelous conclusion,
118 'but the richer and more vigorous the soil,
119 when planted ill and left to go to seed,
120 the wilder and more noxious it becomes.
121 'For a time I let my countenance sustain him.
122 Guiding him with my youthful eyes,
123 I drew him with me in the right direction.
124 'Once I had reached the threshold of my second age,
125 when I changed lives, he took himself from me
126 and gave himself to others.
127 'When I had risen to spirit from my flesh,
128 as beauty and virtue in me became more rich,
129 to him I was less dear and less than pleasing.
130 'He set his steps upon an untrue way,
131 pursuing those false images of good
132 that bring no promise to fulfillment--
133 'useless the inspiration I sought and won for him,
134 as both with dreams and other means
135 I called him back, so little did he heed them.
136 'He sank so low that every instrument
137 for his salvation now fell short
138 except to make him see souls in perdition.
139 'And so I visited the threshold of the dead
140 and, weeping, offered up my prayers
141 to the one who has conducted him this far.
142 'Broken would be the high decree of God
143 should Lethe be crossed and its sustenance
144 be tasted without payment of some fee:
145 his penitence that shows itself in tears.'

From Paradiso XXXI

52 My gaze by now had taken in

53 the general form of Paradise
54 but not yet fixed on any single part of it,
55 and I turned, with newly kindled eagerness
56 to ask my lady many things
57 that kept my mind yet in suspense.
58 I expected one thing but found another:
59 instead of Beatrice, an old man, adorned
60 as were the rest of those in glory, met my eyes.
61 His eyes and cheeks were quite suffused
62 with kindly joy, and from his whole appearance shone
63 a loving father's tenderness.
64 Then 'Where is she?' I asked at once
65 and he replied: 'To lead your longing to its goal
66 Beatrice called me from my place.
67 'If you raise your eyes to the third circle
68 below the highest tier, you shall see her again,
69 now on the throne her merits have assigned.'
70 Without a word, I lifted up my eyes
71 and saw that she, reflecting the eternal rays,
72 appeared to be encircled by a crown.
73 From the highest region where the thunder breaks
74 down to the bottom of the deepest sea,
75 no mortal eye is ever quite so far
76 as was my sight removed from Beatrice.
77 Yet to me that mattered not, because her image
78 came down undimmed by anything between.
79 'O lady who give strength to all my hope
80 and who allowed yourself, for my salvation,
81 to leave your footprints there in Hell,
82 'of all the many things that I have seen,
83 I know the grace and virtue I've been shown
84 come from your goodness and your power.
85 'It is you who, on no matter what the path,
86 have drawn me forth from servitude to freedom
87 by every means that you had in your power.
88 'Keep your munificence alive in me, so that
89 my soul, which you have healed,
90 may please you when it leaves its mortal frame.'
91 This was my prayer. And she, however far away
92 she seemed, smiled and looked down at me,
93 then turned again to the eternal fountain.

Francesco Petrarca (Arezzo, 1304-Arquà, 1374)

From the Canzoniere

It was the day the sun’s ray had turned pale

With pity for the suffering of his Maker
When I was caught (and I put up no fight),
My lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.

It seemed no time to be on guard against

Love’s blows; therefore, I went my way
Secure and fearless—so, all my misfortunes
Began in midst of universal woe.

Love found me all disarmed and saw the way

Was clear to reach my heart down through the eyes,
Which have become the halls and doors of tears.

It seems to me it did him little honor

To wound me with his arrow in my state
And to you, armed, not show his bow at all.

When I summon my sighs to call for you,

With the name Love inscribed upon my hear,
in LAUdable the sound at the beginning
of the sweet accents of that word comes forth.

Your REgal state which I encounter next

Doubles my strength for the high enterprise,
But “TAcitly” the end cries, “for her honor
Needs better shoulders for support than yours.”

And so, to LAUd and to Revere the word

Itself instructs whenever someone calls you,
O lady worthy of all praise and honor,

Unless perhaps, Apollo be offended

That morTAl tongue be so presumptuous
To speak of his eternally green boughs”

119

O lovely hand that squeezes my heart tight,

enclosing in so little space my life,
hand upon which all art and care was spent
by Nature and by Heaven for its praise,

with your five pearls of oriental hue

whose only bitter cruelness is to wound me,
those fingers long and soft which naked now
luckily Love shows me for my enrichment.

Pure white and gaily light, dear glove

that covers polished ivory and fresh roses,
who ever saw on earth such gracious spoils?

Would that I had as much of her fair veil!

O the inconstancy of human things!
But this is theft, and must be taken back

131

I’d like to sing of love so differently

That I could draw by force from her hard side
A thousand sighs a day, and I could kindle
In her cold mind a thousand deep desires;

I’d like to see her lovely face change often,

Her eyes becoming wet, and with more pity
Turning as one does who repents too late
Of another’s suffering and his own error;

To see those deep red roses in the snow

Moved by the breeze, the ivory uncovered
That turns to marble who observes it close,
And of all her that has made this short life
Not burdensome to bear, but rather glorious
In keeping for a season more mature

132

If it’s not love, then what is it I feel:

But if it’s love, by God, what is this thing?
If good, why then the bitter mortal sting?
If bad, then why is every torment sweet?

If I burn willingly, why weep and grieve?

And if against my will, what good lamenting?
O living death, o pleasurable harm,
How can you rule me if I not consent?

And if I do consent, it’s wrong to grieve.

Caught in contrasting winds in a frail boat
On the high seas I am without a helm,

So light of wisdom, so laden of error,

That I myself do not know what I want,
And shiver in midsummer, burn in winter.

134

I find no peace, and I am not at war,

I fear and hope, and burn and I am ice;
I fly above the heavens, and lie on earth,
And I grasp nothing, and embrace the world.

One keeps me jailed who neither locks nor opens,

Nor keeps me for her own nor frees the noose;
Love does not kill, nor does he loose my chains;
He wants me lifeless but won’t loosen me.

I see with no eyes, shout without a tongue;

I yearn to perish, and I beg for help;
I hate myself and love somebody else.

I thrive on pain and laugh with all my tears;

I dislike death as much as I do life:
Because of you, lady, I am this way.

161

O useless steps, O thoughts charming and quick,

O binding memory, O burning love,
O powerful desire, O failing heart,
O my eyes (eyes no more, but fountains),

O leafy bough, honor of famous brows,

O single symbol for those dual values,
O weary life of mine, O my sweet error
Which forces me to search the shores and hills,

O lovely face where Love has put together

Both spurs and rein with which he pricks and turns me
As pleases him (and kicking back is useless),

O loving souls who love in graciousness,

If there are any, all you shades and dust,
Ah, stay awhile and see what pain is mine.

261

Let any lady who wants glorious fame

For having wisdom, virtue, courtesy,
Look deep into the eyes belonging to
My enemy called by the world my lady.

How to acquire honor, how God is loved,

How chastity is wed to charming ways,
She’ll learn therein, as well as the straight path
To take to Heaven that waits and yearns for her,

and there the speech no style can imitate,

the lovely silences, the cherished ways
which mortal wit cannot explain on paper.

The endless beauty dazzling all of us

She cannot learn therein, for those sweet rays
Are gained by destiny and not by art.

292

Those eyes of which I spoke with such emotion,

The arms and hands and feet and countenance
That had estranged me from my very self
And made me different from all other people,

The curling locks of pure gold glimmering,

The lighting flash of an angelic smile
That used to turn the earth to paradise,
Are bits of dust that can feel nothing now.

And I still live, which makes me sad and angry,

Left here without the light I loved so much,
In a great storm, a ship that is dismantled.

Let my love song finish right here and now;

Dry is the vein of my habitual art,
My lyre now has turned to playing tears.

From 366

. . . Virgin, how many tears I’ve shed already,

How many flattering words and prayers in vain
For nothing but my pain and grievous loss!
Since I was born upon the Arno’s banks,
Then wandering from one place to another,
My life has always been nothing but trouble.
Mortal beauty, actions, and words are what
Have burdened all my soul.
Virgin holy, bountiful,
Do not delay, this could be my last year;
My days more swift than arrows have sped off
Through wretchedness and sin,
And there is only death awaiting me.

Virgin, that one is dust and holds in grief

My heart, who while alive kept it in tears
And of my thousand sufferings knew not one;
And even had she known then, what happened
Would still have happened—had she wished otherwise,
It would have meant my death and her dishonor.
Now you, Lady of Heaven, you our Goddess,
(if such a term be fitting),
Virgin of superb senses,
You can see all, and what could not be done
By others is no match for your great power:
End now my suffering
And bring honor to you, to me salvation.

… Virgin so kind, the enemy of pride,

Let love of our same origin move you
Have pity on a sorry, humble heart;
For if a bit of mortal, fleeting dust
Can make me love with faith so marvellous,
How then will I love you, a noble thing?
If from my state so wretched and so vile
I rise up at your hands,
Virgin, then in your name
I cleanse and give my thoughts and wit and style,
My tongue and heart, my tears and sighs to you.
Show me a better crossing
And please look kindly on my changed desires.

The day draws near, it cannot be far off;

Time runs and flies so fast,
Virgin, the one and only one,
And death and conscience now stab at my heart;
Commend me to your Son who is the true
Man and the truth of God,
That He accept my final breath in peace.