71
From this the breezes golden tresses blow, from that the robe’s frail hem is reft aside:
High burns Desire, enkindled by the snow of living loveliness so sudden ’spied.
One falls apurpose, and her fall doth show by loving languor more than plaint or pride, she wills her follower stumble, falling o’er the lovely quarry on the pebbly shore.