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I see Aetna's peak, her womb, her vast slopes. Typhon lies hidden, waiting to erupt, spill over, and, with flashes of lightning ring these graceful shores. May these fantastic fires honoring you forever burn brightly, may they last as long as the earth endures, and the oceans' waves move. Do not fear a successor--such wounds can never be covered over, their beauty forgotten. Everywhere I turn I see new triumphs, hear the echoes of immortal paeans. My Lord, you didn't pour out your life's blood for one spectacle--your years were so spent each day bore witness to your magnificence. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V XCVII:97. See also B A2:3:57; R XIII:43, comment, pp 43-45 (Guerrini "Feste fatte ad Ischia per le vittorie del suo sposo"). Cf. "Qui fece il mio bel lume e noi ritorno". Translation: Thérault, 192-3. Key |
