(Canto 7.)
Now in a gulf of bliss up to the eyes
And of fair things, to swim he doth begin.
(Canto 7.)
So closely doth the ivy not enlace
The tree where firmly rooted it doth stand,
As clasp each other in their warm embrace
These lovers, by each other's sweet breath fanned.
Sweet flower, of which on India's shore no trace
Is, or on the Sabæan odorous sand.