As I was saying these words in a spasm of tears, calling upon Death to come to me, a young and gracious lady, 52 who had been at my bedside, thought that my tears and words were caused by the pain of my illness, and greatly frightened began to weep. Then other ladies who were about the room became aware of my weeping because of her reaction to me. After sending away this lady, who was most closely related to me, they drew near to wake me, thinking that I was having a dream, and said to me: “You must wake up” and “Do not be afraid. ” And with these words of theirs my wild imaginings were cut off just when I was about to say: “Oh, Beatrice, blessed art thou, ” and I had already said: “Oh, Beatrice, ” when I opened my eyes with a start and realized that it had been only a dream. Although I had called out this name, my voice was so broken by my sobbing that I think these ladies were not able to understand what I said. Even though I was very much ashamed, still, somehow prompted by Love, I turned my face toward them. And when they saw me, they began saying: “He looks as if he were dead!” And they said to each other: “Let us try to comfort him. ” And so they said many things to comfort me, and then they asked me what it was that had frightened me. Being somewhat comforted, aware that nothing was true of what I had imagined, I answered them: “I will tell you what happened to me. ” Then I began at the beginning and continued to the end, telling them what I had seen but without mentioning the name of the most gracious one.
After I had recovered from my illness, I decided to write about what had happened to me, since it seemed to me this would be something fascinating to hear about. And so I composed the canzone53 which begins: A lady of tender years; it is constructed in a manner made clear in the divisions that follow it.
A lady of tender years, compassionate and richly graced with human gentleness, was standing near and heard me call on Death; she saw the piteous weeping of my eyes and heard the wild confusing words I spoke; she was so struck with fear she wept aloud. Then other ladies, made aware of me by the weeping figure standing by my bed, sent her away from there; and they drew near to rouse me from my sleep. One of them said: “Wake up!” Another asked: “Why are you so distressed?” With this I left my world of dreams and woke, Calling aloud the name of my sweet lady.
I called to her in a voice so weak with pain, so broken by my tears and anguished sobs, that only my heart heard her name pronounced. In spite of my deep-felt humiliation which showed itself most plainly on my face, Love made me turn and look up at these ladies. The pallor of my skin amazed them so they could not help but start to speak of death. “Oh, let us comfort him, ” implored one lady sweetly of another; and more than once they asked: “What did you see that took away your strength?” When I felt comforted somewhat, I said: “Ladies, now you shall know what I have seen:
While I was brooding on my languid life, and sensed how fleeting is our little day, Love wept within my heart, which is his home; then my bewildered soul went numb with fear, and sighing deep within myself, I said: ‘My lady someday surely has to die. ’ Then I surrendered to my anguished thoughts, and closed my heavy wept-out tired eyes, and all my body’s spirits went drifting off, each fainting in despair. And then, drifting and dreaming, with consciousness and truth left far behind, I saw the looks of ladies wild with wrath, chanting together: ‘Die, you are going to die. ’
Now captured by my false imaginings and somehow in a place unknown to me, I was the witness of unnatural things: of ladies passing with dishevelled hair, some weeping, others wailing their laments that pierced the air like arrows tipped in flame. And then it seemed to me I saw the sun grow slowly darker, and a star appear, and sun and star did weep; birds flying through the air fell dead to earth; the earth began to quake.
A man appeared, pale, and his voice was weak as he said to me: ‘You have not heard the news? Your lady, once so lovely, now lies dead. ’
I raised my weeping eyes to look above and saw what seemed to be a rain of manna: angels who were returning to their home; in front of them they had a little cloud and sang ‘Hosanna’ as they rose with it (had there been other words, I would have told you).
Then I heard Love: ‘I shall no longer hide the truth from you. Come where our lady lies. ’ My wild imaginings led me to see my lady lying dead; I looked at her, and then I saw ladies covering her with a veil. She had an air of joyful resignation; it was as if she said: ‘I am in peace. ’
Then I became so humble in my sorrow, seeing, in her, humility incarnate, that I could say: ‘O, Death, I hold you dear; from now on you should put on graciousness and change your scorn to sympathy for me, since in my lady you have been at home. See how I yearn to be one of your own: I even look the way you would, alive. Come, for my heart implores you!’ When the last rites were done, I left that place, and when I was alone,
I raised my eyes toward Heaven, and declared: ‘Blessed is he who sees you, lovely soul!’ You called to me just then, and I am grateful. ”
This canzone has two sections. In the first, speaking to some unidentified person, I tell how I was aroused from a delirious dream by certain ladies, and how I promised to relate it to them; in the second I report what I told them. The second begins: While I was brooding. The first section divides into two parts: in the first I tell what certain ladies, and one particular lady, moved by my delirious state, said and did before I had returned to full consciousness; in the second I report what these ladies said to me after I had come out of my frenzy, and this part begins: I called to her. Then when I say: While I was brooding, I relate what I told them about my dream. And this section has two parts: in
the first I describe the dream from beginning to end; in the second I tell at what point I was called by these ladies and, choosing my words discreetly, I thank them for waking me. And this part begins: You called to me.
XXIV
After this wild dream I happened one day to be sitting in a certain place deep in thought, when I felt a tremor begin in my heart, as if I were in the presence of my lady. Then a vision of Love came to me, and I seemed to see him coming from that place where my lady dwelt, and he seemed to say joyously from within my heart: “See that you bless the day that I took you captive; it is your duty to do so. ” And it truly seemed to me that my heart was happy, so happy that it did not seem to be my heart because of this change. Shortly after my heart had said these words, speaking with the tongue of Love, I saw coming toward me a gentlewoman, noted for her beauty, who had been the much-loved lady of my best friend. 54 Her name was Giovanna, but because of her beauty (as many believed) she had been given the name of Primavera, meaning Spring, and so she came to be called. And, looking behind her, I saw coming the miraculous Beatrice. These ladies passed close by me, one of them following the other, and it seemed that Love spoke in my heart and said: “The one in front is called Primavera only because of the way she comes today; for I inspired the giver of her name to call her Primavera, meaning ‘she will come first’ (prima verrà) on the day that Beatrice shows herself after the dream of her faithful one. And if you will also consider her real name, you will see that this too means ‘she will come first, ’ since the name Joan (Giovanna) comes from the name of that John (Giovanni) who preceded the True Light, saying: Ego vox clamantis in deserto: parate viam Domini. 55 After this, Love seemed to speak again and say these words: “Anyone of subtle discernment would call Beatrice Love, because she so greatly resembles me. ” Later, thinking this over, I decided to write a poem to my best friend (not mentioning certain things which I thought should not be revealed), whose heart, I believed, still admired the beauty of the radiant Primavera. And I wrote this sonnet which begins: I felt a sleeping spirit.
I felt a sleeping spirit in my heart awake to Love. And then from far away I saw the Lord of love approaching me, and hardly recognized him through his joy. “Think now of nothing but to honor me, ” I heard him say, and each word was a smile; and as my master stayed awhile with me, I looked along the way that he had come
and saw there Lady Joan and Lady Bice56 coming
toward the place where I was standing: a miracle that led a miracle. And, as my memory recalls the scene, Love said to me: “The first to come is Spring; the one who is my image is called Love. ”
This sonnet has many parts. The first tells how I felt the familiar tremor awaken in my heart, and how it seemed that Love, joyful, coming from a far-away place, revealed himself to me in my heart; the second records what Love seemed to say to me in my heart, and how he looked; the third tells how, after he had remained awhile with me, I saw and heard certain things. The second part begins: Think now, the third: and as my master. The third part divides into two: in the first I tell what I saw, in the second I tell what I heard. The second part begins: Love said to me.
XXV
At this point it may be that someone worthy of having every doubt cleared up could be puzzled at my speaking of Love as if it were a thing in itself, 57 as if it were not only an intellectual substance, but also a bodily substance. This is patently false, for Love does not exist in itself as a substance, but is an accident in a substance. And that I speak of Love as if it possessed a body, further still, as if it were a human being, is shown by three things I say about it. I say that I saw it coming; and since “to come” implies locomotion, and since, according to the Philosopher, 58 only a body may move from place to place by its own power, it is obvious that I assume Love to be a body. I also say that it laughed and even that it spoke—acts that would seem characteristic of a human being, especially that of laughing; and so it is clear that I assume love to be human. To clarify this matter suitably for my purpose, I shall begin by saying that, formerly, there were no love poets59 writing in the vernacular, the only love poets were those writing in Latin: among us (and this probably happened in other nations as it still happens in the case of Greece) it was not vernacular poets but learned poets who wrote about love. It is only recently that the first poets appeared who wrote in the vernacular; I call them “poets” for to compose rhymed verse in the vernacular is more or less the same as to compose poetry in Latin using classical meters. 60
And proof that it is but a short time since these poets first appeared is the fact that if we look into the Provençal and the Italian literatures, 61 we shall not find any poems written more than a hundred and fifty years ago. The reason why a few ungifted poets acquired the fame of knowing how to compose is that they were the first who wrote poetry in the Italian language. The first poet to begin writing in the vernacular was moved to do so by a desire to make his words understandable to ladies who found Latin verses difficult to comprehend. And this is an argument against those who compose in the vernacular on a subject other than love, 62 since composition in the vernacular was from the beginning intended for treating of love.
Since, in Latin, greater license is conceded to the poet than to the prose writer, and since these Italian writers are simply poets writing in the vernacular, we can conclude that it is fitting and reasonable that greater license be granted them than to other writers in the vernacular; therefore, if any image or coloring of words is conceded to the Latin poet, it should be conceded to the Italian poet. So, if we find that the Latin poets addressed inanimate objects in their writings, as if these objects had sense and reason, or made them address each other, and that they did this not only with real things but also with unreal things (that is: they have said, concerning things that do not exist, that they speak, and they have said that many an accident in substance speaks as if it were a substance and human), then it is fitting that the vernacular poet do the same—not, of course, without some reason, but with a motive that later can be explained in prose. That the Latin poets have written in the way I have just described can be seen in the case of Virgil, who says that Juno, a goddess hostile to the Trojans, spoke to Aeolus, god of the winds, in the first book of the Aeneid: Eole, nanque tibi, 63 and that this god answered her: THUS, O regina, quid optes explorare labor; michi iussa capessere fas est. 64 This same poet has an inanimate thing speak to animate beings in the third book of the Aeneid: Dardanide duri. 65 In Lucan the animate being speaks to the inanimate object: Multum, Roma, tamen debes civilibus armis. 66 In Horace a man speaks to his own inspiration as if to another person, and not only are the words those of Horace but he gives them as if quoting from the good Homer, in this passage of his Poetics: Dic michi, Musa, virum. 67 In Ovid, Love speaks as if it were a human being, in the beginning of the book called The Remedy of Love: Bella michi, video, bella parantur, ait. 68
From what has been said above, anyone who experiences difficulties in certain parts of this, my little book, can find a solution for them. So that some ungifted person may not be encouraged by my words to go too far, let me add that just as the Latin poets did not write in the way they did without a reason, so vernacular poets should not write in the same way without having some reason for writing as they do. For, if any one should dress his poem in images and rhetorical coloring and then, being asked to strip his poem of such dress in order to reveal its true meaning, 69 would not be able to do so—this would be a veritable cause for shame. And my best friend and I are well acquainted with some who compose so clumsily.
XXVI
This most gracious lady of whom I have spoken in the preceding poems came into such widespread favor that, when she walked down the street, people ran to see her. This made me wonderfully happy. And when she passed by someone, such modesty filled his heart that he did not dare to raise his eyes or to return her greeting (many people, who have experienced this, could testify to it if anyone should not believe me). Crowned and clothed with humility, she would go her way, taking no glory from what she heard and saw. Many would say after she had passed: “This is no woman, this is one of the most beautiful angels of Heaven. ” And others would say: “She is a miracle! Blessed be the Lord who can work so wondrously. ” Let me say that she showed such decorum and was possessed of such charming qualities that those who looked at her experienced a pure and sweet delight, such that they were unable to describe it; and there was no one who could look at her without immediately sighing. These and still more marvelous things were the result of her powers. Thinking about this, and wishing to take up again the theme of her praise, I decided to write something which would describe her magnificent and beneficent efficacy, so that not only those who could see her with their own eyes, but others, as well, might know of her whatever can be said in words. And so I wrote this sonnet which begins: Such sweet decorum. 70
Such sweet decorum and such gentle grace attend my lady’s greeting to mankind that lips can only tremble into silence, and eyes dare not attempt to gaze at her. Untouched by all the praise along her way, she moves in goodness, clothed in humbleness, and seems a creature come from Heaven to earth, a miracle manifest in reality.
Miraculously gracious to behold, her sweetness, through the eyes reaches the heart (who has not felt this cannot understand), and from her lips there seems to move a spirit tender, so deeply loving that it glides into the souls of men and whispers: “Sigh!”
This sonnet is so easy to understand from what has preceded that it has no need of divisions. And so, leaving it aside, let me say that my lady71 came into such high favor that not only she was honored and praised, but also many other ladies were honored and praised because of her. Having observed this and wishing to make it evident to those who had not seen it, I decided to compose something else in which this would be brought out. I then wrote this next sonnet, which begins: He sees an affluence, telling how her virtuous power affected other ladies, as appears in the divisions.
He sees an affluence of joy ideal
who sees my lady, in the midst of other ladies; those ladies who accompany her are moved to thank God for this sweet gift of His grace. Her beauty has the power of such magic, it never rouses other ladies’ envy, instead, it makes them want to be like her: clothed in love and faith and graciousness.
The sight of her creates humility;
and not only is she splendid in her beauty, but every lady near her shares her praise. So
gracious is her every act in essence that there is no one can recall her to his mind and not sigh in an ecstasy of love.
This sonnet has three parts. In the first I tell in whose company this lady seemed most admirable; in the second I tell how desirable it was to be in her company; in the third I speak of those things which she miraculously brought about in others. The second part begins: those ladies who; the third: Her beauty. This last part divides into three. In the first part I tell what she brought about in ladies, that was known only to them; in the second I tell what she did for them as seen by others; in the third I say that she miraculously affected not only ladies but all persons, and not only while they were in her presence but also when they recalled her to mind. The second begins: The sight of her; the third: Her every act.