What you hold, may you always hold

What you hold, may you always hold.
What you do, may you do and never abandon.
But with swift pace, light step,
     unswerving feet,
     so that even your steps stir no dust,
go forward
    securely, joyfully, and swiftly,
on the path of prudent happiness,
    believing nothing
    agreeing with nothing
    which would dissuade you from this resolution
    or which would place a stumbling block for you on the way,
so that you may offer your vows to the Most High
in the pursuit of that perfection
to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you.

-- St. Clare of Assisi (1194-1253) Italian monastic, abbess, follower of St. Francis, and founder of the Order of San Domino (later the Order of Saint Clare)

Ballata: In Exile at Saran

Because I think not ever to return,
Ballad, to Tuscany,--
Go therefore thou for me
Straight to my lady's face,
Who, of her noble grace,
Shall show thee courtesy.

Thou seekest her in charge of many sighs,
Full of much grief and of exceeding fear.
But have good heed thou come not to the eyes
Of such as are sworn foes to gentle cheer:
For, certes, if this thing should chance,--from her
Thou then couldst only look
For scorn, and such rebuke
As needs must bring me pain;--
Yea, after death again
Tears and fresh agony.

Surely thou knowest, Ballad, how that Death
Assails me, till my life is almost sped:
Thou knowest how my heart still travaileth
Through the sore pangs which in my soul are bred:--
My body being now so nearly dead,
It cannot suffer more.
Then, going, I implore
That this my soul thou take
(Nay, do so for my sake,)
When my heart sets it free.

Ah! Ballad, unto thy dear offices
I do commend my soul, thus trembling;
That thou mayst lead it, for pure piteousness,
Even to that lady's presence whom I sing.
Ah! Ballad, say thou to her, sorrowing,
Whereso thou meet her then:--
"This thy poor handmaiden
Is come, nor will be gone,
Being parted now from one
Who served Love painfully.'

Thou also, thou bewildered voice and weak,
That goest forth in tears from my grieved heart,
Shalt, with my soul and with this ballad, speak
Of my dead mind, when thou dost hence depart,
Unto that lady (piteous as thou art!)
Who is so calm and bright,
It shall be deep delight
To feel her presence there.
And thou, Soul, worship her
Still in her purity.


--Guido Cavalcanti (1255-1300) Italian (Florentine) poet, friend and influence of Dante Alighieri, translated into English by Dante Gabriel Rosetti

The opening lines of this poem influenced T. S. Eliot in his poem, "Ash Wednesday."

From Purgatorio 27

A little glimpse of sky was seen above;
Yet by that little I beheld the stars
In magnitude and rustle shining forth
With more than wonted glory. As I lay,
Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing,
Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft
Tidings of future hap. About the hour,
As I believe, when Venus from the east
First lighten’d on the mountain, she whose orb
Seems always glowing with the fire of love,
A lady young and beautiful, I dream’d,
Was passing o’er a lea; and, as she came,
Methought I saw her ever and anon
Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang:
“Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,
That I am Leah: for my brow to weave
A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.
To please me at the crystal mirror, here
I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she
Before her glass abides the livelong day,
Her radiant eyes beholding, charm’d no less,
Than I with this delightful task. Her joy
In contemplation, as in labour mine.”

--Dante Alighieri (1265-1321), Italian master poet of the Medieval period, called the "father of the Italian language" for his use of the vernacular rather than Latin,  from book 2 of The Divine Comedy