Those who long to see how fire burns snow,
how a vestal flame, bright and wavering,
may feed a white and soft fall of snow, both
untouched, neither consuming the other,
do but look at this virgin, God's mother,
and you will see God's spirit come down to
dwell in her heart, she in His light, His glass,
He's understood what she is through and through;
and you will mark a white light everywhere
so dazzling, it shoots, weaves, chequers the cloth
of paradise with flashing radiance.
When Jesus takes us and we are reborn,
we are at war, as in this blest childbirth
where once flesh and miracle competed.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V LXXXV:245. See also B S1:19:139; no MSs; Valgrisi 110. A third in a series to the Virgin. Key