The customs and fashions of men change like leaves on the bough, some of which go and others come.

Lost are we, and are only so far punished, That without hope we live on in desire.

The heavens call to you, and circle about you, displaying to you their eternal splendors, and your eye gazes only to earth.

And here Dante describes an evidently spherical world... "The lamp of the world [the sun] rises to mortals through different passages; but through that which joins four circles with three crosses [the position of the rising sun at the vernal equinox] it issues with a better course and conjoined with better stars, and tempers and stamps the wax of the world more after its own fashion. Although such an outlet had made morning there and evening here, and all the hemisphere there was bright, and the other dark..."

Love, that all gentle hearts so quickly know.

As, pricked out with less and greater lights, between the poles of the universe, the Milky Way so gleameth white as to set very sages questioning.

I wept not — so to stone I grew within.