They spoke Italian. Softly did they speak,
And there was sadness in their voices too.
One spoke of Beatrice as angel might
Have spoken of the queen of all the heavens;
The other spoke of Laura as a bard
Would speak of her who might have been the queen,—
The queen of every kingdom of the earth.
I turned my head and seated by my side
I saw the sad, illustrious Tuscan bards,
The requiem of whose unrequited love