And step by step my faithful ardour bless'd,For the last kiss herself entreated me,
Speak, Hell! where is thy victory?Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see!
The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love,
The hero's wounded limb,Her neighbour cannot rest, for she
As if to bid the streaky vapour fly:At once it seemed to yield to her command,
In his ancestral ball,In yonder sea-wash'd castle,
To his surprise: "I entreat thee to prayThat grace to me and my friends may be given,That we may be able to mount to Heaven,For great is our thirst for heav'nly bliss."The holy man made answer to this:"Much danger is lurking in thy petition,Nor will it be easy to gain admission;Thou dost not come with an angel's salute;For I see thou wearest a cloven foot."The wild man paused, and then answer'd he:"What doth my goat's foot matter to thee?Full many I've known into heaven to passStraight and with ease, with the head of an ass!"
I see thee, when upon the distant ridge
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