Questa Fenice Dell' Aurata Piuma

HE COMPARES HER TO THE PHOENIX.

This wondrous Phoenix with the golden plumes / Forms without art so rare a ring to deck / That beautiful and soft and snowy neck, / That every heart it melts, and mine consumes: / Forms, too, a natural diadem which lights / The air around, whence Love with silent steel / Draws liquid subtle fire, which still I feel / Fierce burning me though sharpest winter bites; / Border'd with azure, a rich purple vest, / Sprinkled with roses, veils her shoulders fair: / Rare garment hers, as grace unique, alone! / Fame, in the opulent and odorous breast / Of Arab mountains, buries her sole lair, / Who in our heaven so high a pitch has flown.

MACGREGOR.