Dante to an unknown lady, beseeching her not to

interrupt his cult of the dead Beatrice. From “Il

Canzoniere,” Ballata II.

Ah little cloud that in Love’s shadow lief

Upon mine eyes so suddenly alightest,

Take some faint pity on the heart thou smitest

That hopes in thee, desires, dies, in brief.

Ah little cloud of more than human fashion

Thou settest a flame within my mind’s mid space

With thy deathly speech that grieveth;

Then as a fiery spirit in thy ways

Createst hope, in part a rightful passion,

Yet where thy sweet smile giveth

His grace, look not! For in Her my faith liveth.

Think on my high desire whose flame’s so great

That nigh a thousand who were come too late,

Have felt the torment of another’s grief.