If a blind physical urge goaded Jove
to become golden rain, a swan, a bull,
a God moved by what stirs, enthralls people,
down from throne to this earth's labyrinth;
if, Love, you value only such wonders,
drawn by lying boasts and strange desires,
take me to where stirred by true chivalry
my radiant Apollo leads the nine.
This would be a greater wonder, a deed
to be even prouder of--you'd bear flesh
to paradise instead of enticing gods
down to earth in humble outfits. Here, give
my mind force, it wanders, love-scourged in flames,
give it strength to lose all thought to reach him.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
V LX:60. From B A1:25:15. See also R XCV:276. Key