l reason appears, it is manifest that in me it has increased
especially, for with this my Mother Tongue I have spent all my time.
And thus one sees that to the shaping of this friendship there have
co-operated all causes of birth and growth. Therefore, let it be
concluded that not only Love, but the most Perfect Love, is that which
I have for it. So it is, and ought to be.

Thus, casting the eyes backwards and gathering up the afore-stated
reasons, one can see that this Bread, with which the Meat of the
under-written Poems ought to be eaten, is made clear enough of
blemishes, and of fault in the nature of its grain. Wherefore, it is
time to attend to and serve up the viands.

This will be that barley-bread with which a thousand will satisfy
themselves; and my full baskets shall overflow with it. This will be
that new Light, that new Sun, which shall rise when the sun of this
our day shall set, and shall give light to those who are in darkness
and in gloom because the sun of this our day gives light to them no
more.

* * * * *

The Second Treatise.

Ye who the third Heaven move, intent of thought,
Hear reasoning that is within my heart,
Thoughts that to none but you I can impart:
Heaven, that is moved by you, my life has brought
To where it stands, therefore I pray you heed
What I shall say about the life I lead.

To you I tell the heart's new cares: always
The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears
Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears,
A Spirit that descends in your star's rays.
Thought that once fed the grieving heart was sweet,
Thought that oft fled up to your Father's feet.

There it beheld a Lady glorified,
Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me
That the Soul said, "With her I long to be!"
Now One appears that drives the thought aside,
And masters me with so effectual might
That my heart quivers to the outward sight.

This on a Lady fixes my regard
And says, "Who seeks where his salvation lies
Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes,
Nor dread the sighs of anguish!" O, ill-starred!
Such opposite now breaks the humble dream
Of the crowned angel in the glory beam.

Still, therefore, the Soul weeps, "The tender stir,"
It says, "of thought that once consoled me flies!"
That troubled one asks, "When into thine eyes