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If the envious think to tarnish your reputation, to bury one ray of your light, oh my Sun, I'll remind them of Hercules, of nearly fatal labors, of an eternal crown whose beauty speaks lyrically, set down in uncorrupt myth by noble spirits who worship the Sun from dawn to twilight as a sacred or fearful thing. The blind self-willed who can't comprehend your disdain expose their flaws when they think they are uncovering yours. Noble minds adapt their visions to strange beauty, recognize splendor, see in you virtue, in others just its opposite. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V XCIX:99. See also B A2:33; R XXV:79. Key |
