The Festival of Beatrice

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     Dante, sole standing on the heavenward height,
       Beheld and heard one saying, "Behold me well:
       I am, I am Beatrice." Heaven and hell
     Kept silence, and the illimitable light
     Of all the stars was darkness in his sight
       Whose eyes beheld her eyes again, and fell
       Shame-stricken. Since her soul took flight to dwell
     In heaven, six hundred years have taken flight.

     And now that heavenliest part of earth whereon
     Shines yet their shadow as once their presence shone
       To her bears witness for his sake, as he
     For hers bare witness when her face was gone:
       No slave, no hospice now for grief--but free
       From shore to mountain and from Alp to sea.