The Divine Comedy by Dante Part 9

So she who doth imparadise my soul, Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life, And bar'd the truth of poor mortality; When lo! as one who, in a mirror, spies The s.h.i.+ning of a flambeau at his back, Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach, And turneth to resolve him, if the gla.s.s Have told him true, and sees the record faithful As note is to its metre; even thus, I well remember, did befall to me, Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence love Had made the leash to take me. As I turn'd; And that, which, in their circles, none who spies, Can miss of, in itself apparent, struck On mine; a point I saw, that darted light So sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear up Against its keenness. The least star we view From hence, had seem'd a moon, set by its side, As star by side of star. And so far off, Perchance, as is the halo from the light Which paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads, There wheel'd about the point a circle of fire, More rapid than the motion, which first girds The world. Then, circle after circle, round Enring'd each other; till the seventh reach'd Circ.u.mference so ample, that its bow, Within the span of Juno's messenger, lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev'nth, Follow'd yet other two. And every one, As more in number distant from the first, Was tardier in motion; and that glow'd With flame most pure, that to the sparkle' of truth Was nearest, as partaking most, methinks, Of its reality. The guide belov'd Saw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake: "Heav'n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.

The circle thereto most conjoin'd observe; And know, that by intenser love its course Is to this swiftness wing'd." To whom I thus: "It were enough; nor should I further seek, Had I but witness'd order, in the world Appointed, such as in these wheels is seen.

But in the sensible world such diff'rence is, That is each round shows more divinity, As each is wider from the centre. Hence, If in this wondrous and angelic temple, That hath for confine only light and love, My wish may have completion I must know, Wherefore such disagreement is between Th' exemplar and its copy: for myself, Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause."

"It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil'd Do leave the knot untied: so hard 't is grown For want of tenting." Thus she said: "But take,"

She added, "if thou wish thy cure, my words, And entertain them subtly. Every orb Corporeal, doth proportion its extent Unto the virtue through its parts diffus'd.

The greater blessedness preserves the more.

The greater is the body (if all parts Share equally) the more is to preserve.

Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheels The universal frame answers to that, Which is supreme in knowledge and in love Thus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadth Of substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav'ns, Each to the' intelligence that ruleth it, Greater to more, and smaller unto less, Suited in strict and wondrous harmony."

As when the st.u.r.dy north blows from his cheek A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air, Clear'd of the rack, that hung on it before, Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil'd, The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles; Such was my cheer, when Beatrice drove With clear reply the shadows back, and truth Was manifested, as a star in heaven.

And when the words were ended, not unlike To iron in the furnace, every cirque Ebullient shot forth scintillating fires: And every sparkle s.h.i.+vering to new blaze, In number did outmillion the account Reduplicate upon the chequer'd board.

Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir, "Hosanna," to the fixed point, that holds, And shall for ever hold them to their place, From everlasting, irremovable.

Musing awhile I stood: and she, who saw by inward meditations, thus began: "In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst, Are seraphim and cherubim. Thus swift Follow their hoops, in likeness to the point, Near as they can, approaching; and they can The more, the loftier their vision. Those, That round them fleet, gazing the G.o.dhead next, Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And all Are blessed, even as their sight descends Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is For every mind. Thus happiness hath root In seeing, not in loving, which of sight Is aftergrowth. And of the seeing such The meed, as unto each in due degree Grace and good-will their measure have a.s.sign'd.

The other trine, that with still opening buds In this eternal springtide blossom fair, Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram, Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold Hosannas blending ever, from the three Transmitted. hierarchy of G.o.ds, for aye Rejoicing, dominations first, next then Virtues, and powers the third. The next to whom Are princedoms and archangels, with glad round To tread their festal ring; and last the band Angelical, disporting in their sphere.

All, as they circle in their orders, look Aloft, and downward with such sway prevail, That all with mutual impulse tend to G.o.d.

These once a mortal view beheld. Desire In Dionysius so intently wrought, That he, as I have done rang'd them; and nam'd Their orders, marshal'd in his thought. From him Dissentient, one refus'd his sacred read.

But soon as in this heav'n his doubting eyes Were open'd, Gregory at his error smil'd Nor marvel, that a denizen of earth Should scan such secret truth; for he had learnt Both this and much beside of these our orbs, From an eye-witness to heav'n's mysteries."

CANTO XXIX

No longer than what time Latona's twins Cover'd of Libra and the fleecy star, Together both, girding the' horizon hang, In even balance from the zenith pois'd, Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere, Part the nice level; e'en so brief a s.p.a.ce Did Beatrice's silence hold. A smile Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd: When thus her words resuming she began: "I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand; For I have mark'd it, where all time and place Are present. Not for increase to himself Of good, which may not be increas'd, but forth To manifest his glory by its beams, Inhabiting his own eternity, Beyond time's limit or what bound soe'er To circ.u.mscribe his being, as he will'd, Into new natures, like unto himself, Eternal Love unfolded. Nor before, As if in dull inaction torpid lay.

For not in process of before or aft Upon these waters mov'd the Spirit of G.o.d.

Simple and mix'd, both form and substance, forth To perfect being started, like three darts Shot from a bow three-corded. And as ray In crystal, gla.s.s, and amber, s.h.i.+nes entire, E'en at the moment of its issuing; thus Did, from th' eternal Sovran, beam entire His threefold operation, at one act Produc'd coeval. Yet in order each Created his due station knew: those highest, Who pure intelligence were made: mere power The lowest: in the midst, bound with strict league, Intelligence and power, unsever'd bond.

Long tract of ages by the angels past, Ere the creating of another world, Describ'd on Jerome's pages thou hast seen.

But that what I disclose to thee is true, Those penmen, whom the Holy Spirit mov'd In many a pa.s.sage of their sacred book Attest; as thou by diligent search shalt find And reason in some sort discerns the same, Who scarce would grant the heav'nly ministers Of their perfection void, so long a s.p.a.ce.

Thus when and where these spirits of love were made, Thou know'st, and how: and knowing hast allay'd Thy thirst, which from the triple question rose.

Ere one had reckon'd twenty, e'en so soon Part of the angels fell: and in their fall Confusion to your elements ensued.

The others kept their station: and this task, Whereon thou lookst, began with such delight, That they surcease not ever, day nor night, Their circling. Of that fatal lapse the cause Was the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen Pent with the world's inc.u.mbrance. Those, whom here Thou seest, were lowly to confess themselves Of his free bounty, who had made them apt For ministries so high: therefore their views Were by enlight'ning grace and their own merit Exalted; so that in their will confirm'd They stand, nor feel to fall. For do not doubt, But to receive the grace, which heav'n vouchsafes, Is meritorious, even as the soul With prompt affection welcometh the guest.

Now, without further help, if with good heed My words thy mind have treasur'd, thou henceforth This consistory round about mayst scan, And gaze thy fill. But since thou hast on earth Heard vain disputers, reasoners in the schools, Canvas the' angelic nature, and dispute Its powers of apprehension, memory, choice; Therefore, 't is well thou take from me the truth, Pure and without disguise, which they below, Equivocating, darken and perplex.

"Know thou, that, from the first, these substances, Rejoicing in the countenance of G.o.d, Have held unceasingly their view, intent Upon the glorious vision, from the which Naught absent is nor hid: where then no change Of newness with succession interrupts, Remembrance there needs none to gather up Divided thought and images remote

"So that men, thus at variance with the truth Dream, though their eyes be open; reckless some Of error; others well aware they err, To whom more guilt and shame are justly due.

Each the known track of sage philosophy Deserts, and has a byway of his own: So much the restless eagerness to s.h.i.+ne And love of singularity prevail.

Yet this, offensive as it is, provokes Heav'n's anger less, than when the book of G.o.d Is forc'd to yield to man's authority, Or from its straightness warp'd: no reck'ning made What blood the sowing of it in the world Has cost; what favour for himself he wins, Who meekly clings to it. The aim of all Is how to s.h.i.+ne: e'en they, whose office is To preach the Gospel, let the gospel sleep, And pa.s.s their own inventions off instead.

One tells, how at Christ's suffering the wan moon Bent back her steps, and shadow'd o'er the sun With intervenient disk, as she withdrew: Another, how the light shrouded itself Within its tabernacle, and left dark The Spaniard and the Indian, with the Jew.

Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears, Bandied about more frequent, than the names Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets.

The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return From pasture, fed with wind: and what avails For their excuse, they do not see their harm?

Christ said not to his first conventicle, 'Go forth and preach impostures to the world,'

But gave them truth to build on; and the sound Was mighty on their lips; nor needed they, Beside the gospel, other spear or s.h.i.+eld, To aid them in their warfare for the faith.

The preacher now provides himself with store Of jests and gibes; and, so there be no lack Of laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl Distends, and he has won the meed he sought: Could but the vulgar catch a glimpse the while Of that dark bird which nestles in his hood, They scarce would wait to hear the blessing said.

Which now the dotards hold in such esteem, That every counterfeit, who spreads abroad The hands of holy promise, finds a throng Of credulous fools beneath. Saint Anthony Fattens with this his swine, and others worse Than swine, who diet at his lazy board, Paying with unstamp'd metal for their fare.

"But (for we far have wander'd) let us seek The forward path again; so as the way Be shorten'd with the time. No mortal tongue Nor thought of man hath ever reach'd so far, That of these natures he might count the tribes.

What Daniel of their thousands hath reveal'd With finite number infinite conceals.

The fountain at whose source these drink their beams, With light supplies them in as many modes, As there are splendours, that it s.h.i.+nes on: each According to the virtue it conceives, Differing in love and sweet affection.

Look then how lofty and how huge in breadth The' eternal might, which, broken and dispers'd Over such countless mirrors, yet remains Whole in itself and one, as at the first."

CANTO x.x.x

Noon's fervid hour perchance six thousand miles From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone Almost to level on our earth declines; When from the midmost of this blue abyss By turns some star is to our vision lost.

And straightway as the handmaid of the sun Puts forth her radiant brow, all, light by light, Fade, and the spangled firmament shuts in, E'en to the loveliest of the glittering throng.

Thus vanish'd gradually from my sight The triumph, which plays ever round the point, That overcame me, seeming (for it did) Engirt by that it girdeth. Wherefore love, With loss of other object, forc'd me bend Mine eyes on Beatrice once again.

If all, that hitherto is told of her, Were in one praise concluded, 't were too weak To furnish out this turn. Mine eyes did look On beauty, such, as I believe in sooth, Not merely to exceed our human, but, That save its Maker, none can to the full Enjoy it. At this point o'erpower'd I fail, Unequal to my theme, as never bard Of buskin or of sock hath fail'd before.

For, as the sun doth to the feeblest sight, E'en so remembrance of that witching smile Hath dispossess my spirit of itself.

Not from that day, when on this earth I first Beheld her charms, up to that view of them, Have I with song applausive ever ceas'd To follow, but not follow them no more; My course here bounded, as each artist's is, When it doth touch the limit of his skill.

She (such as I bequeath her to the bruit Of louder trump than mine, which hasteneth on, Urging its arduous matter to the close), Her words resum'd, in gesture and in voice Resembling one accustom'd to command: "Forth from the last corporeal are we come Into the heav'n, that is unbodied light, Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true happiness replete with joy, Joy, that transcends all sweetness of delight.

Here shalt thou look on either mighty host Of Paradise; and one in that array, Which in the final judgment thou shalt see."

As when the lightning, in a sudden spleen Unfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes The visive spirits dazzled and bedimm'd; So, round about me, fulminating streams Of living radiance play'd, and left me swath'd And veil'd in dense impenetrable blaze.

Such weal is in the love, that stills this heav'n; For its own flame the torch this fitting ever!

No sooner to my list'ning ear had come The brief a.s.surance, than I understood New virtue into me infus'd, and sight Kindled afresh, with vigour to sustain Excess of light, however pure. I look'd; And in the likeness of a river saw Light flowing, from whose amber-seeming waves Flash'd up effulgence, as they glided on 'Twixt banks, on either side, painted with spring, Incredible how fair; and, from the tide, There ever and anon, outstarting, flew Sparkles instinct with life; and in the flow'rs Did set them, like to rubies chas'd in gold; Then, as if drunk with odors, plung'd again Into the wondrous flood; from which, as one Re'enter'd, still another rose. "The thirst Of knowledge high, whereby thou art inflam'd, To search the meaning of what here thou seest, The more it warms thee, pleases me the more.

But first behooves thee of this water drink, Or ere that longing be allay'd." So spake The day-star of mine eyes; then thus subjoin'd: "This stream, and these, forth issuing from its gulf, And diving back, a living topaz each, With all this laughter on its bloomy sh.o.r.es, Are but a preface, shadowy of the truth They emblem: not that, in themselves, the things Are crude; but on thy part is the defect, For that thy views not yet aspire so high."

Never did babe, that had outslept his wont, Rush, with such eager straining, to the milk, As I toward the water, bending me, To make the better mirrors of mine eyes In the refining wave; and, as the eaves Of mine eyelids did drink of it, forthwith Seem'd it unto me turn'd from length to round, Then as a troop of maskers, when they put Their vizors off, look other than before, The counterfeited semblance thrown aside; So into greater jubilee were chang'd Those flowers and sparkles, and distinct I saw Before me either court of heav'n displac'd.

O prime enlightener! thou who crav'st me strength On the high triumph of thy realm to gaze!

Grant virtue now to utter what I kenn'd, There is in heav'n a light, whose goodly s.h.i.+ne Makes the Creator visible to all Created, that in seeing him alone Have peace; and in a circle spreads so far, That the circ.u.mference were too loose a zone To girdle in the sun. All is one beam, Reflected from the summit of the first, That moves, which being hence and vigour takes, And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes Its image mirror'd in the crystal flood, As if 't admire its brave appareling Of verdure and of flowers: so, round about, Eyeing the light, on more than million thrones, Stood, eminent, whatever from our earth Has to the skies return'd. How wide the leaves Extended to their utmost of this rose, Whose lowest step embosoms such a s.p.a.ce Of ample radiance! Yet, nor amplitude Nor height impeded, but my view with ease Took in the full dimensions of that joy.

Near or remote, what there avails, where G.o.d Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends Her sway? Into the yellow of the rose Perennial, which in bright expansiveness, Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent Of praises to the never-wint'ring sun, As one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace, Beatrice led me; and, "Behold," she said, "This fair a.s.semblage! stoles of snowy white How numberless! The city, where we dwell, Behold how vast! and these our seats so throng'd Few now are wanting here! In that proud stall, On which, the crown, already o'er its state Suspended, holds thine eyes--or ere thyself Mayst at the wedding sup,--shall rest the soul Of the great Harry, he who, by the world Augustas hail'd, to Italy must come, Before her day be ripe. But ye are sick, And in your tetchy wantonness as blind, As is the bantling, that of hunger dies, And drives away the nurse. Nor may it be, That he, who in the sacred forum sways, Openly or in secret, shall with him Accordant walk: Whom G.o.d will not endure I' th' holy office long; but thrust him down To Simon Magus, where Magna's priest Will sink beneath him: such will be his meed."

CANTO x.x.xI

In fas.h.i.+on, as a snow-white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly mult.i.tude, Which in his own blood Christ espous'd. Meanwhile That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate his glory, whom they love, Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, cl.u.s.tering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flow'r, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy.

Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold; The rest was whiter than the driven snow.

And as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.

All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, Ages long past or new, on one sole mark Their love and vision fix'd. O trinal beam Of individual star, that charmst them thus, Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below!

If the grim brood, from Arctic sh.o.r.es that roam'd, (Where helice, forever, as she wheels, Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son) Stood in mute wonder 'mid the works of Rome, When to their view the Lateran arose In greatness more than earthly; I, who then From human to divine had past, from time Unto eternity, and out of Florence To justice and to truth, how might I choose But marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze, In sooth no will had I to utter aught, Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests Within the temple of his vow, looks round In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell Of all its goodly state: e'en so mine eyes Cours'd up and down along the living light, Now low, and now aloft, and now around, Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, Where charity in soft persuasion sat, Smiles from within and radiance from above, And in each gesture grace and honour high.

So rov'd my ken, and its general form All Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd With purpose of my lady to inquire Once more of things, that held my thought suspense, But answer found from other than I ween'd; For, Beatrice, when I thought to see, I saw instead a senior, at my side, Rob'd, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffus'd, With gestures such as spake a father's love.

And, "Whither is she vanish'd?" straight I ask'd.

"By Beatrice summon'd," he replied, "I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft To the third circle from the highest, there Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit Hath plac'd her." Answering not, mine eyes I rais'd, And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.

Not from the centre of the sea so far Unto the region of the highest thunder, As was my ken from hers; and yet the form Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure,