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| All of my thoughts can only speak of Love, |
| greatly endowed with such variety |
| that one compels me all his might to see, |
| madly another does his valor prove, |
| another makes me hope as well as grieve, |
| and still another brings but tears to me: |
| on begging but for pity they agree, |
| such are the fears that in my heart still live. |
| Thus, with no subject wherefrom to commence, |
| I wish to speak, and know not what to say, |
| in such a lovely labyrinth am I! |
| And if for peaceful living now I sigh, |
| invoke I must my only foe today |
| my Lady Mercy in my sole defense |
| - Dante |