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When after so many ordeals, God pities us, and light comes, the soul believes; the Father put his Son in this world to recover us, to quicken the shriveled like sweet clean rain; here I make amends, am content. Here dew washes over us all, we see what we are, are mirrored. Courage-- measures faith in His love, rule, and prompting. So it's right to wait, sit by this flowing vast fountain whose streams are sweetest to those who have known the greatest thirst, and define for us what such sweetness means: these waters strengthen the roused will, cheer a living soul who must make her way through this fearful world. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CLXXXII:342. See also Bullock S2, 20, 187; MSs V2 (Ve2); 1548 Valgrisi; 1760 Rota. Key |
