...remember long, How stern of lineament, how grim The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn abide ; Small friendship...in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of Beauty, veiled with heav'nly light, In circles of...

...friendship for the fnrdly throng ; Distrust of all ihe world beside. p'aithfnl if ibis wan image he, NO dream his life was. but a fight ; Could any BEATRICE see A lover in that anchorite? To that cold Ghibeline'.s ploomy sicht Who could have p*iie*sed ihe visions came Of Beauty, veiled wiih heavenly...

...how grim The father was uf Tuscan song. There but tin? burning sense of wrong1, Perpetual rn re niifl scorn abide ; Small friendship for the lordly throng...Distrust of all the world beside. Faithful if this wan initiée be, Nn dream his lili* was. but a fight ; Ould any BFATRICP: set; A lover in that anchorite?...

...remember long, How stem of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn, abide ; Small...Faithful if this wan image be, No dream his life was — hut a fight; Could any Beatrice see A lover in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy...

...grim The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and storm abide ; Small friendship for the lordly throng ; Distrust...in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of Beauty, veiled with heav'nly light, In circles of...

...remember long, How stern of lineament, how grim The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn abide ; Small friendship...of all the world beside. Faithful if this wan image lie, No dream his life was — but a fight; Could any Beatrice see A lover in that anchorite 1 To that...

...long, How stern of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn, abide ; Small...in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of Beauty, veiled with heavenly light, In circles of...

...long, How stern of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn, abide ; Small...in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of Beauty, veiled with heavenly light, In circles of...

...long, How stern of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn, abide ; Small...in that anchorite ? To that cold Ghibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of Beauty, veiled with heavenly light, In circles of...

...long, How stern of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song. There but the burning sense of wrong, Perpetual care and scorn, abide ; Small...BEATRICE see A lover in that anchorite ? To that cold Uhibeline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions cume Of Beauty, veiled with heavenly light,...