241. ‘L’alto signor dinanzi a cui non vale’

That noble lord before whom there’s no use

in hiding or in fleeing, or making a defence,

has kindled lovely pleasure in my mind

with one burning and loving arrow:

and even though his first bitter blow

was mortal, to further his attack,

he took a shaft formed from pity,

and pierced my heart again and again.

One wound burns and sends out smoke and flame:

the other sends out tears that grief distils,

through my eyes, because of your sad state:

not a single spark of the fire that inflames me

is quenched by this double fountain,

rather desire increases with the pity.

Note: Presumably pity for some illness of Laura’s.