_The Transfiguration Of Beauty:_

A DIALOGUE WITH LOVE.

Dimmi di grazia, amor.

Nay, prithee tell me, Love, when I behold My lady, do mine eyes her beauty see In truth, or dwells that loveliness in me Which multiplies her grace a thousandfold? Thou needs must know; for thou with her of old Comest to stir my soul's tranquillity; Yet would I not seek one sigh less, or be By loss of that loved flame more simply cold.-- The beauty thou discernest, all is hers; But grows in radiance as it soars on high Through mortal eyes unto the soul above: 'Tis there transfigured; for the soul confers On what she holds, her own divinity: And this transfigured beauty wins thy love.

XXVI.