affirm; and I am equally certain, after this life, to pass to that
other and better life--there where that glorious Lady lives, with whom
my soul was enamoured when it was struggling, as will be set forth in
the next chapter.




CHAPTER X.


Returning to the proposition, I say that in that verse which begins "A
foe so strong I find him that he destroys," I intend to make manifest
that which was discoursing in my Soul, the ancient thought against the
new; and first briefly I show the cause of its lamentation, when I
say: "This opposite now breaks the humble dream Of the crowned angel
in the glory-beam." This one is that especial thought of which it is
said above that it was wont to be the life of the sorrowing heart.
Then when I say, "Still, therefore, my Soul weeps," it is evident that
my Soul is still on its side, and speaks with sadness; and I say that
it speaks words of lamentation, as if it might wonder at the sudden
transformation, saying: "'The tender star,' It says, 'that once was my
consoler, flies.'" It can well say consoler, for in the great loss
which I sustained in the death of Beatrice this thought, which
ascended into Heaven, had given to my Soul much consolation.

Then afterwards I say, that all my thought, my Soul, of which I say,
"That troubled one," turns in excuse of itself, and speaks against the
eyes; and this is made evident there: "That troubled one asked, 'When
into thine eyes Looked she?'" And I say that she speaks of them and