4 thus within a cloud of flowers, which from the angelic hands was ascending 30 and falling down again within and without, over a white veil with wreath of olive, a lady appeared to me, under a green mantle 33 robed with the color of living flame. And my spirit which now for so long a time, at her presence 36 had not been with awe, trembling, broken down, without by the eyes having more knowledge, through occult virtue that proceeded from her, 39 of ancient love felt the great potency. Soon as my sight smote the lofty virtue, which already had transfixed me 42 ere I was out of boyhood, I turned me to the left, with the confidence with which the little child runs to his mother 45 when he is frightened, or when he is troubled, to say to Virgil: “Less than a drachm of blood remains in me that does not tremble; 48 I recognize the signals of the ancient flame.” But Virgil had left us deprived of himself; Virgil, sweetest Father; 51 Virgil, to whom for my salvation I gave me. Nor did all which lost the ancient mother avail unto my cheeks, cleansed with dew, 54 that with tears they should not turn dark again.
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