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If a blind physical urge goaded Jove
to become golden rain, a swan, a bull, a God moved by what stirs, enthralls people, down from throne to this earth's labyrinth; if, Love, you value only such wonders, drawn by lying boasts and strange desires, take me to where stirred by true chivalry my radiant Apollo leads the nine. This would be a greater wonder, a deed to be even prouder of--you'd bear flesh to paradise instead of enticing gods down to earth in humble outfits. Here, give my mind force, it wanders, love-scourged in flames, give it strength to lose all thought to reach him. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: V LX:60. From B A1:25:15. See also R XCV:276. Key |
