If the envious think to tarnish your
reputation, to bury one ray of
your light, oh my Sun, I'll remind them of
Hercules, of nearly fatal labors,
of an eternal crown whose beauty speaks
lyrically, set down in uncorrupt myth
by noble spirits who worship the Sun
from dawn to twilight as a sacred or
fearful thing. The blind self-willed who can't
comprehend your disdain expose their flaws
when they think they are uncovering yours.
Noble minds adapt their visions to strange
beauty, recognize splendor, see in you
virtue, in others just its opposite.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XCIX:99. See also B A2:33; R XXV:79. Key