LIX.

_LOVE IS A REFINER'S FIRE._

_Non più ch' 'l foco il fabbro._

It is with fire that blacksmiths iron subdue Unto fair form, the image of their thought: Nor without fire hath any artist wrought Gold to its utmost purity of hue. Nay, nor the unmatched phoenix lives anew, Unless she burn: if then I am distraught By fire, I may to better life be brought Like those whom death restores nor years undo. The fire whereof I speak, is my great cheer; Such power it hath to renovate and raise Me who was almost numbered with the dead; And since by nature fire doth find its sphere Soaring aloft, and I am all ablaze, Heavenward with it my flight must needs be sped.