I see Aetna's peak, her womb, her vast slopes.
Typhon lies hidden, waiting to erupt,
spill over, and, with flashes of lightning
ring these graceful shores. May these fantastic
fires honoring you forever burn
brightly, may they last as long as the earth
endures, and the oceans' waves move. Do not
fear a successor--such wounds can never be
covered over, their beauty forgotten.
Everywhere I turn I see new triumphs,
hear the echoes of immortal paeans.
My Lord, you didn't pour out your life's blood
for one spectacle--your years were so spent
each day bore witness to your magnificence.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XCVII:97. See also B A2:3:57; R XIII:43, comment, pp 43-45 (Guerrini "Feste fatte ad Ischia per le vittorie del suo sposo"). Cf. "Qui fece il mio bel lume e noi ritorno". Translation: Thérault, 192-3. Key