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I.
BEATRICE TO DANTE.
“Guardami ben. Ben son, ben son.”*
REGARD me well: I am thy love, thy love;
Thy blessing, thy delight, thy hope, thy peace:
Thy joy above all joys that break and cease
When their full waves in widest circles move:
Thy bird of comfort, thine eternal dove,
Whom thou didst send out of thy mournful breast
To flutter back and point thee to thy rest:
Thine angel, who forgets her crown star‐wove
To come to thee with folded woman‐hands
Pleading,—“look on me, Beatrice, who stands
Before thee; by the Triune Light divine
Undazzled, still beholds thy human face,
And is more happy in this happy place
That thou alone art hers and she is thine.”
* Suggested by a statue of Beatrice, bearing this motto.
