it. Her whole figure was so finely
proportioned that amongst other women she appeared with superior
dignity, yet free from the least degree of formality or affectation. In
walking or in dancing, or in other exercises which display the person,
every motion was elegant and appropriate. Her sentiments were always
just and striking and have furnished me material for some of my sonnets;
she always spoke at the proper time, and always to the purpose, so that
nothing could be added, nothing taken away.... To recount all her
excellencies would far exceed my present limits, and I shall therefore
conclude with affirming that there was nothing which could be desired in
a beautiful and accomplished woman which was not in her most abundantly
found. By these qualities, I was so captivated that not a power or
faculty of my body or mind remained any longer at liberty, and I could
not help considering the lady who had died as the star of Venus, which
at the approach of the sun is totally overpowered and extinguished."

The name of this wondrous lady is carefully kept in the background by
Lorenzo, but from other sources she is known to have been Lucrezia
Donati, a lady of noble birth, celebrated for her goodness and beauty,
and a member of that same Donati family to which Dante's wife belonged.
At the time of this love affair, Lorenzo was about twenty, and the lady
was somewhat older, but that made no difference to the young poet, who
immediately began to exhibit all those symptoms which have become
traditional in such maladies of the heart. He lost his appetite, grew
pale, shunned the society of even his dearest friends, took long,
solitary walks, and wrote many an ode and sonnet in honor of the fair
Donati. But she was indeed a divinity rather than a friend, and his
oft-expressed delight in her many charms was rather intellectual than
emotional and passionate. She becomes for him, in truth, a very sun of
blazing beauty, which he looks upon to admire, but the fire of the lover
is entirely wanting. While it was no such mystic attachment as that
professed by Dante for Beatrice, it no doubt resembles it from certain
points of view, as, in each case, the lover has little actual
acquaintance with the object of his affections. But there this
comparison must end, for it has been explained how Dante derived a
certain moral and spiritual benefit from his early brooding love, and in
the more modern instance nothing of the kind is apparent. On the