XVII
   
  Ne li occhi porta la mia donna Amore 
    per che si fa gentil ciò ch'ella mira; 
    ov'ella passa, ogn'om ver lei si gira, 
    e cui saluta fa tremar lo core, 
    sì che, bassando il viso, tutto smore, 
    e d'ogni suo difetto allor sospira: 
    fugge dinanzi a lei superbia ed ira. 
    Aiutatemi, donne, farle onore. 
  Ogne dolcezza, ogne pensero umile 
    nasce nel core a chi parlar la sente, 
    ond'è laudato chi prima la vide. 
    Quel ch'ella par quando un poco sorride, 
    non si pò dicer né tenere a mente, 
    sì è novo miracolo e gentile. 
   
   
  

XVII

   My lady bears Love in her eyes, so that 
she ennobles all she looks at. Wherever 
she goes everyone turns towards her, and when 
she greets someone she makes his heart tremble, 
so that, lowering his eyes, he turns 
all pale and sighs over all his faults. 
Pride and ill humour fly before her. 
Help me, ladies, to do her honour. 
   All gentleness, every humble thought is born 
in the heart of all who hear her speak; and so 
he who first sees her is praised. What she seems 
when she smiles a little can neither be 
described nor held before the mind; 
it is a marvel so rare and perfect.