News at Eleven: Nor is he the poet who loved only one woman,

Beatrice; here we have him burning in pain for an unidentified lover--or would-be lover: "My rash soul, working to its own destruction,/Depicts her as she is,/Shapes its own pain, this image fierce and fair . . ." He could, actually, be writing about Florence--we are informed, in the notes, that the poem was written in exile, and was probably the last one he completed before he rolled his sleeves up to start on the Commedia--but it also works if you assume he is writing about a woman he can't help but love, but who doesn't care about him (the situation has been known to arise, after all).

from The Guardian: Dante's surprising rhymes

~~~~~~~~~~~