Chapter X

_Non pur d’argento o d’oro,
Vinto dal foco, esser po’ piena aspetta
Vota d’opra perfetta
La forma, che sol fratta il tragge fora:
Tal io, col foco ancora
D’amor dentro ristoro
Il desir voto di beltà infinita,
Di costei ch’i’ adoro,
Anima e cor della mie fragil vita.
Alta donna e gradita
In me discende per si brevi spazi,
C’a trarla fora, convien mi rompa e strazi._

_For silver or for gold,
After in fire these have been made to flow,
Doth wait the empty mould,
That shattered, will the lovely image show;
Through passion-ardor, so
My vacancy I store
With the divine unbounded loveliness
Of her whom I adore,
The soul and essence of my fragileness,
Whose beauty doth inpour,
And occupy by passages so strait,
That broken I must be to liberate._