Being in thought of love, I chanced to see Two youthful damozels. One sang: "Our life inhales All love continually.' Their aspect was so utterly serene, So courteous, of such quiet nobleness, That I said to them: "Yours, I may well ween, 'Tis of all virtue to unlock the place. Ah! damozels, do not account him base Whom thus his wound subdues: Since I was at Thoulouse, My heart is dead in me.' |