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As Love pursued me in the wonted glade, Wary as he, who weening foe to find, Guards every pass, and looks before, behind, I stood in mail of ancient thought arrayed: When, sideways turned, I saw by sudden shade The sun impeded, and, on earth outlined Her shape, who, if aright conceives my mind, Meetest for immortality was made. I said unto my heart, 'Why dost thou fear?’ But ere my heart could open to my thought, The beams whereby I melt shone all around; And, as when flash by thunder-peal is caught, My eyes encounter of those eyes most dear And smiling welcome simultaneous found.

How natural and pleasing if the incident be real! and how marvellous the poetical power which can raise such an edifice out of such a trifle! On the other hand, how insipid if the little event, instead of a ripple on the surface of life arrested by the poet’s art ere it has had time to pass into nothingness, be but a fiction to enable him to say a pretty thing! The author of so frigid a contrivance could never have been the author of theCanzoniere.