The last stanza, which is intended for a refrain, can be explained easily enough by the Literal exposition, except inasmuch as it says that I there called this Lady "disdainful and morose." Where it is to be known that at the beginning this Philosophy appeared to me on the part of her body, which is Wisdom, morose, for she smiled not on me, insomuch that as yet I did not understand her persuasions; and she seemed to me disdainful, for she turned not her glance to me, that is to say, I could not see her demonstrations.

But the defect was altogether on my side.

From this, and from that which is given in the explanation of the Literal meaning of the Song, the Allegory of the refrain is evident.

It is time, therefore, that we proceed farther, and this treatise end.
* * * * * The Fourth Treatise Soft rhymes of love I used to find Within my thought, I now must leave, Not without hope to turn to them again; But signs of a disdainful mind That in my Lady I perceive Have closed the way to my accustomed strain.
And since time suits me now to wait, I put away the softer style Proper to love; rhyme subtle and severe Shall tell how Nobleman's estate Is won by worth, hold false and vile The judgment that from wealth derives a Peer.
First calling on that Lord Who dwells within her eyes, Containing whom, my Lady learnt Herself to love and prize.
One raised to Empire held, As far as he could see, Descent of wealth, and generous ways, To make Nobility.
Another, lightly wise, That saying turned aside, Perchance for want of generous ways The second source denied.
And followers of him Are all the men who rate Those noble in whose families The wealth has long been great.
And so long among us The falsehood has had sway, That men call him a Nobleman, Though worthless, who can say.
I nephew am, or son, Of one worth such a sum; But he who sees the Truth may know How vile he has become To whom the Truth was shown, Who from the Truth has fled, And though he walks upon the earth Is counted with the dead: Whoever shall define The man a living tree Will speak untruth and less than truth, Though more he may not see.
The Emperor so erred; First set the false in view, Proceeding, on the other side, To what was less than true.
For riches make not worth Although they can defile: Nor can their want take worth away: They are by nature vile.
No painter gives a form That is not of his knowing; No tower leans above a stream That far away is flowing.
How vile and incomplete Wealth is, let this declare However great the heap may be It brings no peace, but care.
And hence the upright mind, To its own purpose true, Stands firm although the flood of wealth Sweep onward out of view They will not have the vile Turn noble, nor descent From parent vile produce a race For ever eminent.
Yet this, they say, can be, Their reason halts behind, Since time they suit to noble birth By course of time defined.
It follows then from this That all are high or base, Or that in Time there never was Beginning to our race.
But that I cannot hold, Nor yet, if Christians, they; Sound intellect reproves their words As false, and turns away.
And now I seek to tell, As it appears to me, What is, whence comes, what signs attest A true Nobility.
I say that from one root Each Virtue firstly springs, Virtue, I mean, that Happiness To man, by action, brings.
This, as the Ethics teach, Is habit of right choice That holds the means between extremes, So spake that noble voice.
Nobility by right No other sense has had Than to import its subject's good, As vileness makes him bad.
Such virtue shows its good To others' intellect, For when two things agree in one, Producing one effect.
One must from other come, Or each one from a third, If each be as each, and more, then one From the other is inferred.
Where Virtue is, there is A Nobleman, although Not where there is a Nobleman Must Virtue be also.
So likewise that is Heaven Wherein a star is hung, But Heaven may be starless; so In women and the young A modesty is seen, Not virtue, noble yet; Comes virtue from what's noble, as From black comes violet; Or from the parent root It springs, as said before, And so let no one vaunt that him.
A noble mother bore.
They are as Gods whom Grace Has placed beyond all sin: God only gives it to the Soul That He finds pure within.
That seed of Happiness Falls in the hearts of few, Planted by God within the Souls Spread to receive His dew.
Souls whom this Grace adorns Declare it in each breath, From birth that joins the flesh and soul They show it until death.
In Childhood they obey, Are gentle, modest, heed To furnish Virtue's person with The graces it may need.
Are temperate in Youth, And resolutely strong, Love much, win praise for courtesy, Are loyal, hating wrong.
Are prudent in their Age, And generous and just, And glad at heart to hear and speak When good to man's discussed.
The fourth part of their life Weds them again to God, They wait, and contemplate the end, And bless the paths they trod.
How many are deceived! My Song, Against the strayers: when you reach Our Lady, hide not from her that your end Is labour that would lessen wrong, And tell her too, in trusty speech, I travel ever talking of your Friend..