From the Italian. Seven Sonnets and a Canzone. VII. Dante

WHAT should be said, of him cannot be said;

By too great splendor is his name attended;

To blame is easier those who him offended,

Than reach the faintest glory round him shed.

This man descended to the doomed and dead

For our instruction; then to God ascended;

Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid,

Who from his country’s, closed against him, fled.

Ungrateful land! To its own prejudice

Nurse of his fortunes; and this showeth well

That the most perfect most of grief shall see.

Among a thousand proofs let one suffice,

That as his exile hath no parallel,

Ne’er walked the earth a greater man than he.