Like someone who has lived in a sheltered
retreat for long years was I on that day
I fell in love: when I saw him I could
not judge if he were human or a god;
in that instant I gave myself to him,
yielded that sweet freedom I'd enjoyed, self-
forgetting by the self forgot, and onto
my gay ardent heart was pressed an image
I never wanted to turn away from.
In his face I glimpsed each virtue, beauty
such that the very air sparkled, made him
more beautiful the more I looked at him.
Ah! how I prayed to Love, let it be like this
always, and how far it's been from what I hoped.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V LIII:53. See also Bullock A1:85:45; R LXXV:212. Key