249. ‘Qual paura ò, qunado mi torne a mente’

What fear I have, when I turn my mind

to that day I left my lady, grave and pensive,

and my heart with her! And there’s nothing

I think of so willingly and so often.

I see her again standing humbly

among lovely ladies, like a rose

among lesser flowers, not joyous or sad,

like one who’s afraid, feeling no other ill.

She had laid aside her customary grace,

the pearls, the garland and the bright dress,

the smile, the song, the sweet human speech.

So I was left living in uncertainty:

sad omens now, dark thoughts and dreams

assail me, and, please God, they are in vain.