er of its craft,
and neither in manner nor in conception has it any marked distinction
from the work of his predecessors and contemporaries. The narrative of
the first incidents of his love forms the subject of the first part of
the little book, consisting of ten poems and the prose comment upon
them; then the poet takes up a new theme and devotes ten poems to the
praise of his lady. The last of them is interrupted by her death, which
took place on the 9th of June, 1290, when Dante was twenty-five years
old. Then he takes up another new theme, and the next ten poems are
devoted to his grief, to an episode of temporary unfaithfulness to the
memory of Beatrice, and to the revival of fidelity of love for her. One
poem, the last, remains; in which he tells how a sigh, issuing from his
heart, and guided by Love, beholds his lady in glory in the empyrean.
The book closes with these words:--

"After this sonnet a wonderful vision appeared to me, in which I
saw things which made me resolve to speak no more of this blessed
one until I could more worthily treat of her. And to attain to
this, I study to the utmost of my power, as she truly knows. So
that, if it shall please Him through whom all things live that my
life be prolonged for some years, I hope to say of her what was
never said of any woman. And then, may it please Him who is the
Lord of Grace, that my soul may go to behold the glory of its lady,
namely of that blessed Beatrice, who in glory looks upon the face
of Him _qui est per omnia saecula benedictus_" (who is blessed
forever).

There is nothing in the 'New Life' which indicates whether or not
Beatrice was married, or which implies that the devotion of Dante to her
was recognized by any special expression of regard on her part. No
interviews between them are recorded; no tokens of love were exchanged.
The reserve, the simple and unconscious dignity of Beatrice, distinguish
her no less than her beauty, her grace, and her ineffable courtesy. The
story, based upon actual experience, is ordered not in literal
conformity with fact, but according to the ideal of the imagination; and
its reality does not consist in the exactness of its record of events,
but in the truth of its poetic conception. Under the narrative lies an
allegory of the power of love to transfigure earthly things into the
likeness of heavenly, and to lift the soul from things material and
transitor