|
Chosen spirit, who died before your time, whose merit led to joyful flight to God: if the light you bore was like your courage, each star, as you passed, was overshadowed. Victorious: there you rejoice, here you show us clearly a vast, clearly-defined, steep road of honor: you left a pattern your image deeply dyed on every heart. Those who followed you are happy today: if one can't reach the mark, she who praises virtue makes and shares in eternity. God showed his great strength, Nature new beauty in you. Today's men don't understand real splendor: you remain a rare trick of fate. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
|
Notes: From Visconti LXXI:71. See also B A1:50:28; R XXIX:93. Key |
