Part 25

“Those, in the eye who live the first and fifth, Cause thee to marvel, in that thou behold’st The region of the angels deck’d with them. They quitted not their bodies, as thou deem’st, Gentiles but Christians, in firm rooted faith, This of the feet in future to be pierc’d, That of feet nail’d already to the cross. One from the barrier of the dark abyss, Where never any with good will returns, Came back unto his bones. Of lively hope Such was the meed; of lively hope, that wing’d The prayers sent up to God for his release, And put power into them to bend his will. The glorious Spirit, of whom I speak to thee, A little while returning to the flesh, Believ’d in him, who had the means to help, And, in believing, nourish’d such a flame Of holy love, that at the second death He was made sharer in our gamesome mirth. The other, through the riches of that grace, Which from so deep a fountain doth distil, As never eye created saw its rising, Plac’d all his love below on just and right: Wherefore of grace God op’d in him the eye To the redemption of mankind to come; Wherein believing, he endur’d no more The filth of paganism, and for their ways Rebuk’d the stubborn nations. The three nymphs, Whom at the right wheel thou beheldst advancing, Were sponsors for him more than thousand years Before baptizing. O how far remov’d, Predestination! is thy root from such As see not the First cause entire: and ye, O mortal men! be wary how ye judge: For we, who see our Maker, know not yet The number of the chosen: and esteem Such scantiness of knowledge our delight: For all our good is in that primal good Concentrate, and God’s will and ours are one.”

So, by that form divine, was giv’n to me Sweet medicine to clear and strengthen sight, And, as one handling skillfully the harp, Attendant on some skilful songster’s voice Bids the chords vibrate, and therein the song Acquires more pleasure; so, the whilst it spake, It doth remember me, that I beheld The pair of blessed luminaries move. Like the accordant twinkling of two eyes, Their beamy circlets, dancing to the sounds.

## CANTO XXI

Again mine eyes were fix’d on Beatrice, And with mine eyes my soul, that in her looks Found all contentment. Yet no smile she wore And, “Did I smile,” quoth she, “thou wouldst be straight Like Semele when into ashes turn’d: For, mounting these eternal palace-stairs, My beauty, which the loftier it climbs, As thou hast noted, still doth kindle more, So shines, that, were no temp’ring interpos’d, Thy mortal puissance would from its rays Shrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt. Into the seventh splendour are we wafted, That underneath the burning lion’s breast Beams, in this hour, commingled with his might, Thy mind be with thine eyes: and in them mirror’d The shape, which in this mirror shall be shown.” Whoso can deem, how fondly I had fed My sight upon her blissful countenance, May know, when to new thoughts I chang’d, what joy To do the bidding of my heav’nly guide: In equal balance poising either weight.

Within the crystal, which records the name, (As its remoter circle girds the world) Of that lov’d monarch, in whose happy reign No ill had power to harm, I saw rear’d up, In colour like to sun-illumin’d gold.

A ladder, which my ken pursued in vain, So lofty was the summit; down whose steps I saw the splendours in such multitude Descending, ev’ry light in heav’n, methought, Was shed thence. As the rooks, at dawn of day Bestirring them to dry their feathers chill, Some speed their way a-field, and homeward some, Returning, cross their flight, while some abide And wheel around their airy lodge; so seem’d That glitterance, wafted on alternate wing, As upon certain stair it met, and clash’d Its shining. And one ling’ring near us, wax’d So bright, that in my thought: said: “The love, Which this betokens me, admits no doubt.”

Unwillingly from question I refrain, To her, by whom my silence and my speech Are order’d, looking for a sign: whence she, Who in the sight of Him, that seeth all, Saw wherefore I was silent, prompted me T’ indulge the fervent wish; and I began: “I am not worthy, of my own desert, That thou shouldst answer me; but for her sake, Who hath vouchsaf’d my asking, spirit blest! That in thy joy art shrouded! say the cause, Which bringeth thee so near: and wherefore, say, Doth the sweet symphony of Paradise Keep silence here, pervading with such sounds Of rapt devotion ev’ry lower sphere?” “Mortal art thou in hearing as in sight;” Was the reply: “and what forbade the smile Of Beatrice interrupts our song. Only to yield thee gladness of my voice, And of the light that vests me, I thus far Descend these hallow’d steps: not that more love Invites me; for lo! there aloft, as much Or more of love is witness’d in those flames: But such my lot by charity assign’d, That makes us ready servants, as thou seest, To execute the counsel of the Highest. “That in this court,” said I, “O sacred lamp! Love no compulsion needs, but follows free Th’ eternal Providence, I well discern: This harder find to deem, why of thy peers Thou only to this office wert foredoom’d.” I had not ended, when, like rapid mill, Upon its centre whirl’d the light; and then The love, that did inhabit there, replied: “Splendour eternal, piercing through these folds, Its virtue to my vision knits, and thus Supported, lifts me so above myself, That on the sov’ran essence, which it wells from, I have the power to gaze: and hence the joy, Wherewith I sparkle, equaling with my blaze The keenness of my sight. But not the soul, That is in heav’n most lustrous, nor the seraph That hath his eyes most fix’d on God, shall solve What thou hast ask’d: for in th’ abyss it lies Of th’ everlasting statute sunk so low, That no created ken may fathom it. And, to the mortal world when thou return’st, Be this reported; that none henceforth dare Direct his footsteps to so dread a bourn. The mind, that here is radiant, on the earth Is wrapt in mist. Look then if she may do, Below, what passeth her ability, When she is ta’en to heav’n.” By words like these Admonish’d, I the question urg’d no more; And of the spirit humbly sued alone T’ instruct me of its state. “’Twixt either shore Of Italy, nor distant from thy land, A stony ridge ariseth, in such sort, The thunder doth not lift his voice so high, They call it Catria: at whose foot a cell Is sacred to the lonely Eremite, For worship set apart and holy rites.” A third time thus it spake; then added: “There So firmly to God’s service I adher’d, That with no costlier viands than the juice Of olives, easily I pass’d the heats Of summer and the winter frosts, content In heav’n-ward musings. Rich were the returns And fertile, which that cloister once was us’d To render to these heavens: now ’t is fall’n Into a waste so empty, that ere long Detection must lay bare its vanity Pietro Damiano there was I yclept: Pietro the sinner, when before I dwelt Beside the Adriatic, in the house Of our blest Lady. Near upon my close Of mortal life, through much importuning I was constrain’d to wear the hat that still From bad to worse it shifted.—Cephas came; He came, who was the Holy Spirit’s vessel, Barefoot and lean, eating their bread, as chanc’d, At the first table. Modern Shepherd’s need Those who on either hand may prop and lead them, So burly are they grown: and from behind Others to hoist them. Down the palfrey’s sides Spread their broad mantles, so as both the beasts Are cover’d with one skin. O patience! thou That lookst on this and doth endure so long.” I at those accents saw the splendours down From step to step alight, and wheel, and wax, Each circuiting, more beautiful. Round this They came, and stay’d them; uttered them a shout So loud, it hath no likeness here: nor I Wist what it spake, so deaf’ning was the thunder.”

## CANTO XXII

Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turn’d me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most, And she was like the mother, who her son Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice Soothes him, and he is cheer’d; for thus she spake, Soothing me: “Know’st not thou, thou art in heav’n? And know’st not thou, whatever is in heav’n, Is holy, and that nothing there is done But is done zealously and well? Deem now, What change in thee the song, and what my smile had wrought, since thus the shout had pow’r to move thee. In which couldst thou have understood their prayers, The vengeance were already known to thee, Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour, The sword of heav’n is not in haste to smite, Nor yet doth linger, save unto his seeming, Who in desire or fear doth look for it. But elsewhere now l bid thee turn thy view; So shalt thou many a famous spirit behold.” Mine eyes directing, as she will’d, I saw A hundred little spheres, that fairer grew By interchange of splendour. I remain’d, As one, who fearful of o’er-much presuming, Abates in him the keenness of desire, Nor dares to question, when amid those pearls, One largest and most lustrous onward drew, That it might yield contentment to my wish; And from within it these the sounds I heard.

“If thou, like me, beheldst the charity That burns amongst us, what thy mind conceives, Were utter’d. But that, ere the lofty bound Thou reach, expectance may not weary thee, I will make answer even to the thought, Which thou hast such respect of. In old days, That mountain, at whose side Cassino rests, Was on its height frequented by a race Deceived and ill dispos’d: and I it was, Who thither carried first the name of Him, Who brought the soul-subliming truth to man. And such a speeding grace shone over me, That from their impious worship I reclaim’d The dwellers round about, who with the world Were in delusion lost. These other flames, The spirits of men contemplative, were all Enliven’d by that warmth, whose kindly force Gives birth to flowers and fruits of holiness. Here is Macarius; Romoaldo here: And here my brethren, who their steps refrain’d Within the cloisters, and held firm their heart.”

I answ’ring, thus; “Thy gentle words and kind, And this the cheerful semblance, I behold Not unobservant, beaming in ye all, Have rais’d assurance in me, wakening it Full-blossom’d in my bosom, as a rose Before the sun, when the consummate flower Has spread to utmost amplitude. Of thee Therefore entreat I, father! to declare If I may gain such favour, as to gaze Upon thine image, by no covering veil’d.”

“Brother!” he thus rejoin’d, “in the last sphere Expect completion of thy lofty aim, For there on each desire completion waits, And there on mine: where every aim is found Perfect, entire, and for fulfillment ripe. There all things are as they have ever been: For space is none to bound, nor pole divides, Our ladder reaches even to that clime, And so at giddy distance mocks thy view. Thither the Patriarch Jacob saw it stretch Its topmost round, when it appear’d to him With angels laden. But to mount it now None lifts his foot from earth: and hence my rule Is left a profitless stain upon the leaves; The walls, for abbey rear’d, turned into dens, The cowls to sacks choak’d up with musty meal. Foul usury doth not more lift itself Against God’s pleasure, than that fruit which makes The hearts of monks so wanton: for whate’er Is in the church’s keeping, all pertains. To such, as sue for heav’n’s sweet sake, and not To those who in respect of kindred claim, Or on more vile allowance. Mortal flesh Is grown so dainty, good beginnings last not From the oak’s birth, unto the acorn’s setting. His convent Peter founded without gold Or silver; I with pray’rs and fasting mine; And Francis his in meek humility. And if thou note the point, whence each proceeds, Then look what it hath err’d to, thou shalt find The white grown murky. Jordan was turn’d back; And a less wonder, then the refluent sea, May at God’s pleasure work amendment here.”

So saying, to his assembly back he drew: And they together cluster’d into one, Then all roll’d upward like an eddying wind.

The sweet dame beckon’d me to follow them: And, by that influence only, so prevail’d Over my nature, that no natural motion, Ascending or descending here below, Had, as I mounted, with my pennon vied.

So, reader, as my hope is to return Unto the holy triumph, for the which I ofttimes wail my sins, and smite my breast, Thou hadst been longer drawing out and thrusting Thy finger in the fire, than I was, ere The sign, that followeth Taurus, I beheld, And enter’d its precinct. O glorious stars! O light impregnate with exceeding virtue! To whom whate’er of genius lifteth me Above the vulgar, grateful I refer; With ye the parent of all mortal life Arose and set, when I did first inhale The Tuscan air; and afterward, when grace Vouchsaf’d me entrance to the lofty wheel That in its orb impels ye, fate decreed My passage at your clime. To you my soul Devoutly sighs, for virtue even now To meet the hard emprize that draws me on.

“Thou art so near the sum of blessedness,” Said Beatrice, “that behooves thy ken Be vigilant and clear. And, to this end, Or even thou advance thee further, hence Look downward, and contemplate, what a world Already stretched under our feet there lies: So as thy heart may, in its blithest mood, Present itself to the triumphal throng, Which through the’ etherial concave comes rejoicing.”

I straight obey’d; and with mine eye return’d Through all the seven spheres, and saw this globe So pitiful of semblance, that perforce It moved my smiles: and him in truth I hold For wisest, who esteems it least: whose thoughts Elsewhere are fix’d, him worthiest call and best. I saw the daughter of Latona shine Without the shadow, whereof late I deem’d That dense and rare were cause. Here I sustain’d The visage, Hyperion! of thy sun; And mark’d, how near him with their circle, round Move Maia and Dione; here discern’d Jove’s tempering ’twixt his sire and son; and hence Their changes and their various aspects Distinctly scann’d. Nor might I not descry Of all the seven, how bulky each, how swift; Nor of their several distances not learn. This petty area (o’er the which we stride So fiercely), as along the eternal twins I wound my way, appear’d before me all, Forth from the havens stretch’d unto the hills. Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes return’d.

## CANTO XXIII

E’en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night, With her sweet brood, impatient to descry Their wished looks, and to bring home their food, In the fond quest unconscious of her toil: She, of the time prevenient, on the spray, That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze Expects the sun; nor ever, till the dawn, Removeth from the east her eager ken; So stood the dame erect, and bent her glance Wistfully on that region, where the sun Abateth most his speed; that, seeing her Suspense and wand’ring, I became as one, In whom desire is waken’d, and the hope Of somewhat new to come fills with delight.

Short space ensued; I was not held, I say, Long in expectance, when I saw the heav’n Wax more and more resplendent; and, “Behold,” Cried Beatrice, “the triumphal hosts Of Christ, and all the harvest reap’d at length Of thy ascending up these spheres.” Meseem’d, That, while she spake her image all did burn, And in her eyes such fullness was of joy, And I am fain to pass unconstrued by.

As in the calm full moon, when Trivia smiles, In peerless beauty, ’mid th’ eternal nympus, That paint through all its gulfs the blue profound In bright pre-eminence so saw I there, O’er million lamps a sun, from whom all drew Their radiance as from ours the starry train: And through the living light so lustrous glow’d The substance, that my ken endur’d it not.

O Beatrice! sweet and precious guide! Who cheer’d me with her comfortable words! “Against the virtue, that o’erpow’reth thee, Avails not to resist. Here is the might, And here the wisdom, which did open lay The path, that had been yearned for so long, Betwixt the heav’n and earth.” Like to the fire, That, in a cloud imprison’d doth break out Expansive, so that from its womb enlarg’d, It falleth against nature to the ground; Thus in that heav’nly banqueting my soul Outgrew herself; and, in the transport lost. Holds now remembrance none of what she was.

“Ope thou thine eyes, and mark me: thou hast seen Things, that empower thee to sustain my smile.”

I was as one, when a forgotten dream Doth come across him, and he strives in vain To shape it in his fantasy again, Whenas that gracious boon was proffer’d me, Which never may be cancel’d from the book, Wherein the past is written. Now were all Those tongues to sound, that have on sweetest milk Of Polyhymnia and her sisters fed And fatten’d, not with all their help to boot, Unto the thousandth parcel of the truth, My song might shadow forth that saintly smile, flow merely in her saintly looks it wrought. And with such figuring of Paradise The sacred strain must leap, like one, that meets A sudden interruption to his road. But he, who thinks how ponderous the theme, And that ’t is lain upon a mortal shoulder, May pardon, if it tremble with the burden. The track, our ventrous keel must furrow, brooks No unribb’d pinnace, no self-sparing pilot.

“Why doth my face,” said Beatrice, “thus Enamour thee, as that thou dost not turn Unto the beautiful garden, blossoming Beneath the rays of Christ? Here is the rose, Wherein the word divine was made incarnate; And here the lilies, by whose odour known The way of life was follow’d.” Prompt I heard Her bidding, and encounter once again The strife of aching vision. As erewhile, Through glance of sunlight, stream’d through broken cloud, Mine eyes a flower-besprinkled mead have seen, Though veil’d themselves in shade; so saw I there Legions of splendours, on whom burning rays Shed lightnings from above, yet saw I not The fountain whence they flow’d. O gracious virtue! Thou, whose broad stamp is on them, higher up Thou didst exalt thy glory to give room To my o’erlabour’d sight: when at the name Of that fair flower, whom duly I invoke Both morn and eve, my soul, with all her might Collected, on the goodliest ardour fix’d. And, as the bright dimensions of the star In heav’n excelling, as once here on earth Were, in my eyeballs lively portray’d, Lo! from within the sky a cresset fell, Circling in fashion of a diadem, And girt the star, and hov’ring round it wheel’d.

Whatever melody sounds sweetest here, And draws the spirit most unto itself, Might seem a rent cloud when it grates the thunder, Compar’d unto the sounding of that lyre, Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, that inlays The floor of heav’n, was crown’d. “Angelic Love, I am, who thus with hov’ring flight enwheel The lofty rapture from that womb inspir’d, Where our desire did dwell: and round thee so, Lady of Heav’n! will hover; long as thou Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy Shall from thy presence gild the highest sphere.”

Such close was to the circling melody: And, as it ended, all the other lights Took up the strain, and echoed Mary’s name.

The robe, that with its regal folds enwraps The world, and with the nearer breath of God Doth burn and quiver, held so far retir’d Its inner hem and skirting over us, That yet no glimmer of its majesty Had stream’d unto me: therefore were mine eyes Unequal to pursue the crowned flame, That rose and sought its natal seed of fire; And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms For very eagerness towards the breast, After the milk is taken; so outstretch’d Their wavy summits all the fervent band, Through zealous love to Mary: then in view There halted, and “Regina Coeli” sang So sweetly, the delight hath left me never.

O what o’erflowing plenty is up-pil’d In those rich-laden coffers, which below Sow’d the good seed, whose harvest now they keep.

Here are the treasures tasted, that with tears Were in the Babylonian exile won, When gold had fail’d them. Here in synod high Of ancient council with the new conven’d, Under the Son of Mary and of God, Victorious he his mighty triumph holds, To whom the keys of glory were assign’d.

## CANTO XXIV

“O ye! in chosen fellowship advanc’d To the great supper of the blessed Lamb, Whereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill’d! If to this man through God’s grace be vouchsaf’d Foretaste of that, which from your table falls, Or ever death his fated term prescribe; Be ye not heedless of his urgent will; But may some influence of your sacred dews Sprinkle him. Of the fount ye alway drink, Whence flows what most he craves.” Beatrice spake, And the rejoicing spirits, like to spheres On firm-set poles revolving, trail’d a blaze Of comet splendour; and as wheels, that wind Their circles in the horologe, so work The stated rounds, that to th’ observant eye The first seems still, and, as it flew, the last; E’en thus their carols weaving variously, They by the measure pac’d, or swift, or slow, Made me to rate the riches of their joy.

From that, which I did note in beauty most Excelling, saw I issue forth a flame So bright, as none was left more goodly there. Round Beatrice thrice it wheel’d about, With so divine a song, that fancy’s ear Records it not; and the pen passeth on And leaves a blank: for that our mortal speech, Nor e’en the inward shaping of the brain, Hath colours fine enough to trace such folds.

“O saintly sister mine! thy prayer devout Is with so vehement affection urg’d, Thou dost unbind me from that beauteous sphere.”

Such were the accents towards my lady breath’d From that blest ardour, soon as it was stay’d: To whom she thus: “O everlasting light Of him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss He bare below! tent this man, as thou wilt, With lighter probe or deep, touching the faith, By the which thou didst on the billows walk. If he in love, in hope, and in belief, Be steadfast, is not hid from thee: for thou Hast there thy ken, where all things are beheld In liveliest portraiture. But since true faith Has peopled this fair realm with citizens, Meet is, that to exalt its glory more, Thou in his audience shouldst thereof discourse.”