Sonnets
SONNET XII
The grace of youth in Toulouse ventureth;
She’s noble and fair, with quaint sincerities,
Direct she is and is about her eyes
Most like to our Lady of sweet memories.
So that within my heart desirous
She hath clad the soul in fashions peregrine.[1]
Pilgrim to her he hath too great chagrin
To say what Lady is lord over us.
This soul looks deep into that look of hers,
Wherein he rouseth Love to festival,
For deep therein his rightful lady resteth.
Then with sad sighing in the heart he stirs,
Feeling his death-wound as that dart doth fall
Which this Tolosan by departure casteth.
- ↑ Vita Nuova, xli. 46, and Sonnet xxiv. and Sonnet v. l. 4: “In guisa che da lui si svia e vanne a lei.”
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