Already on my Lady’s face mine eyes

Again were fastened, and with these my mind,

And from all other purpose was withdrawn;

And she smiled not; but “If I were to smile,”

She unto me began, “thou wouldst become

Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes.

Because my beauty, that along the stairs

Of the eternal palace more enkindles,

As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend,

If it were tempered not, is so resplendent

That all thy mortal power in its effulgence

Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes.

We are uplifted to the seventh splendour,

That underneath the burning Lion’s breast

Now radiates downward mingled with his power.

Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind,

And make of them a mirror for the figure

That in this mirror shall appear to thee.”