181. ‘Amor fra l’erbe una leggiadra rete’

Love spread his graceful net of gold and pearls

over the grass, underneath the branches

of an evergreen tree that I love so much,

though its shadow gives more sadness than delight.

His lure was the crop he reaps as well as sows,

sweet and bitter, so I’m in fear and longing:

the birdsong was never so soft and quiet,

since the day that Adam first opened his eyes.

And the clear light that shone all around

quenched the sun: and the cord was wrapped

round a hand that revealed ivory and snow.

So I fell into the net, and what trapped me

was her graceful ways, and angelic words,

and pleasure, and desire, and hope.