Gaucelm Faidit:
The beauty which is God Himself
He poured into a single being.
And Montanhagol, anticipating Dante:
Wherefore I tell you, and my words are true,
From heaven came her beauty, rare and tender,
Her loveliness was wrought in Paradise,
Men's dazzled eyes can scarce support her splendour.
Folquet of Romans:
When I behold her beauty rare,
I'm so confused and startled by her worth,
I ween I am no longer on this earth.
A canzone which has been attributed to Cavalcanti, Cino da Pistoia and
Dante, reads as follows:
My lady comes and ev'ry lip is silent;
So perfect is her beauty's high estate
That mortal spirit swoons and falls prostrate
Before her glory. And she is so noble:
If I uplift to her my inward eye,
My soul is startled as if death were nigh.
Cavalcanti says:
Round you are flowers, is the tender green,
The sun is not as bright as your dear face,
All nature in her glorious summer-sheen
Has not so fair and beautiful a place,
It pales beside you.
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