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Love steer'd my course, while yet the sun rode high,
On Scylla's waters to a myrtle-grove: The heaven was still and the sea did not move; Yet now and then a little breeze went by Stirring the tops of trees against the sky: And then I heard a song as glad as love, So sweet that never yet the like thereof Was heard in any mortal company. "A nymph, a goddess, or an angel sings Unto herself, within this chosen place, Of ancient loves;" so said I at that sound. And there my lady, 'mid the shadowings Of myrtle-trees, 'mid flowers and grassy space, Singing I saw, with others who sat round. Giovanni Boccaccio (1313 - 1375) Trans Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1861) |
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