Part 9

Onward a space, what seem’d seven trees of gold, The intervening distance to mine eye Falsely presented; but when I was come So near them, that no lineament was lost Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense, Then did the faculty, that ministers Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold Distinguish, and it th’ singing trace the sound “Hosanna.” Above, their beauteous garniture Flam’d with more ample lustre, than the moon Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.

I turn’d me full of wonder to my guide; And he did answer with a countenance Charg’d with no less amazement: whence my view Reverted to those lofty things, which came So slowly moving towards us, that the bride Would have outstript them on her bridal day.

The lady called aloud: “Why thus yet burns Affection in thee for these living, lights, And dost not look on that which follows them?”

I straightway mark’d a tribe behind them walk, As if attendant on their leaders, cloth’d With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth Was never. On my left, the wat’ry gleam Borrow’d, and gave me back, when there I look’d. As in a mirror, my left side portray’d.

When I had chosen on the river’s edge Such station, that the distance of the stream Alone did separate me; there I stay’d My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld The flames go onward, leaving, as they went, The air behind them painted as with trail Of liveliest pencils! so distinct were mark’d All those sev’n listed colours, whence the sun Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone. These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond My vision; and ten paces, as I guess, Parted the outermost. Beneath a sky So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders, By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown’d.

All sang one song: “Blessed be thou among The daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness Blessed for ever!” After that the flowers, And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink, Were free from that elected race; as light In heav’n doth second light, came after them Four animals, each crown’d with verdurous leaf. With six wings each was plum’d, the plumage full Of eyes, and th’ eyes of Argus would be such, Were they endued with life. Reader, more rhymes Will not waste in shadowing forth their form: For other need no straitens, that in this I may not give my bounty room. But read Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north How he beheld them come by Chebar’s flood, In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such As thou shalt find them character’d by him, Here were they; save as to the pennons; there, From him departing, John accords with me.

The space, surrounded by the four, enclos’d A car triumphal: on two wheels it came Drawn at a Gryphon’s neck; and he above Stretch’d either wing uplifted, ’tween the midst And the three listed hues, on each side three; So that the wings did cleave or injure none; And out of sight they rose. The members, far As he was bird, were golden; white the rest With vermeil intervein’d. So beautiful A car in Rome ne’er grac’d Augustus pomp, Or Africanus’: e’en the sun’s itself Were poor to this, that chariot of the sun Erroneous, which in blazing ruin fell At Tellus’ pray’r devout, by the just doom Mysterious of all-seeing Jove. Three nymphs at the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance; The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce Been known within a furnace of clear flame: The next did look, as if the flesh and bones Were emerald: snow new-fallen seem’d the third.

Now seem’d the white to lead, the ruddy now; And from her song who led, the others took Their treasure, swift or slow. At th’ other wheel, A band quaternion, each in purple clad, Advanc’d with festal step, as of them one The rest conducted, one, upon whose front Three eyes were seen. In rear of all this group, Two old men I beheld, dissimilar In raiment, but in port and gesture like, Solid and mainly grave; of whom the one Did show himself some favour’d counsellor Of the great Coan, him, whom nature made To serve the costliest creature of her tribe. His fellow mark’d an opposite intent, Bearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge, E’en as I view’d it with the flood between, Appall’d me. Next four others I beheld, Of humble seeming: and, behind them all, One single old man, sleeping, as he came, With a shrewd visage. And these seven, each Like the first troop were habited, but wore No braid of lilies on their temples wreath’d. Rather with roses and each vermeil flower, A sight, but little distant, might have sworn, That they were all on fire above their brow.

Whenas the car was o’er against me, straight. Was heard a thund’ring, at whose voice it seem’d The chosen multitude were stay’d; for there, With the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.

## CANTO XXX

Soon as the polar light, which never knows Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament Of the first heav’n, to duty each one there Safely convoying, as that lower doth The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix’d; Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van Between the Gryphon and its radiance came, Did turn them to the car, as to their rest: And one, as if commission’d from above, In holy chant thrice shorted forth aloud: “Come, spouse, from Libanus!” and all the rest Took up the song—At the last audit so The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh, As, on the sacred litter, at the voice Authoritative of that elder, sprang A hundred ministers and messengers Of life eternal. “Blessed thou! who com’st!” And, “O,” they cried, “from full hands scatter ye Unwith’ring lilies;” and, so saying, cast Flowers over head and round them on all sides.

I have beheld, ere now, at break of day, The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky Oppos’d, one deep and beautiful serene, And the sun’s face so shaded, and with mists Attemper’d at lids rising, that the eye Long while endur’d the sight: thus in a cloud Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose, And down, within and outside of the car, Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath’d, A virgin in my view appear’d, beneath Green mantle, rob’d in hue of living flame:

And o’er my Spirit, that in former days Within her presence had abode so long, No shudd’ring terror crept. Mine eyes no more Had knowledge of her; yet there mov’d from her A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak’d, The power of ancient love was strong within me.

No sooner on my vision streaming, smote The heav’nly influence, which years past, and e’en In childhood, thrill’d me, than towards Virgil I Turn’d me to leftward, panting, like a babe, That flees for refuge to his mother’s breast, If aught have terrified or work’d him woe: And would have cried: “There is no dram of blood, That doth not quiver in me. The old flame Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire:” But Virgil had bereav’d us of himself, Virgil, my best-lov’d father; Virgil, he To whom I gave me up for safety: nor, All, our prime mother lost, avail’d to save My undew’d cheeks from blur of soiling tears.

“Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay, Weep thou not yet: behooves thee feel the edge Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that.”

As to the prow or stern, some admiral Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew, When ’mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof; Thus on the left side of the car I saw, (Turning me at the sound of mine own name, Which here I am compell’d to register) The virgin station’d, who before appeared Veil’d in that festive shower angelical.

Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes; Though from her brow the veil descending, bound With foliage of Minerva, suffer’d not That I beheld her clearly; then with act Full royal, still insulting o’er her thrall, Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech: “Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign’d at last Approach the mountain? knewest not, O man! Thy happiness is whole?” Down fell mine eyes On the clear fount, but there, myself espying, Recoil’d, and sought the greensward: such a weight Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien Of that stern majesty, which doth surround mother’s presence to her awe-struck child, She look’d; a flavour of such bitterness Was mingled in her pity. There her words Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang: “In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:” But went no farther than, “Thou Lord, hast set My feet in ample room.” As snow, that lies Amidst the living rafters on the back Of Italy congeal’d when drifted high And closely pil’d by rough Sclavonian blasts, Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls, And straightway melting it distils away, Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I, Without a sigh or tear, or ever these Did sing, that with the chiming of heav’n’s sphere, Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain Of dulcet symphony, express’d for me Their soft compassion, more than could the words “Virgin, why so consum’st him?” then the ice, Congeal’d about my bosom, turn’d itself To spirit and water, and with anguish forth Gush’d through the lips and eyelids from the heart.

Upon the chariot’s right edge still she stood, Immovable, and thus address’d her words To those bright semblances with pity touch’d: “Ye in th’ eternal day your vigils keep, So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth, Conveys from you a single step in all The goings on of life: thence with more heed I shape mine answer, for his ear intended, Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now May equal the transgression. Not alone Through operation of the mighty orbs, That mark each seed to some predestin’d aim, As with aspect or fortunate or ill The constellations meet, but through benign Largess of heav’nly graces, which rain down From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man Was in the freshness of his being, such, So gifted virtually, that in him All better habits wond’rously had thriv’d. The more of kindly strength is in the soil, So much doth evil seed and lack of culture Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness. These looks sometime upheld him; for I show’d My youthful eyes, and led him by their light In upright walking. Soon as I had reach’d The threshold of my second age, and chang’d My mortal for immortal, then he left me, And gave himself to others. When from flesh To spirit I had risen, and increase Of beauty and of virtue circled me, I was less dear to him, and valued less. His steps were turn’d into deceitful ways, Following false images of good, that make No promise perfect. Nor avail’d me aught To sue for inspirations, with the which, I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise, Did call him back; of them so little reck’d him, Such depth he fell, that all device was short Of his preserving, save that he should view The children of perdition. To this end I visited the purlieus of the dead: And one, who hath conducted him thus high, Receiv’d my supplications urg’d with weeping. It were a breaking of God’s high decree, If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted Without the cost of some repentant tear.”

## CANTO XXXI

“O Thou!” her words she thus without delay Resuming, turn’d their point on me, to whom They but with lateral edge seem’d harsh before, “Say thou, who stand’st beyond the holy stream, If this be true. A charge so grievous needs Thine own avowal.” On my faculty Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir’d Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.

A little space refraining, then she spake: “What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave On thy remembrances of evil yet Hath done no injury.” A mingled sense Of fear and of confusion, from my lips Did such a “Yea” produce, as needed help Of vision to interpret. As when breaks In act to be discharg’d, a cross-bow bent Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o’erstretch’d, The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark; Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst Beneath the heavy load, and thus my voice Was slacken’d on its way. She straight began: “When my desire invited thee to love The good, which sets a bound to our aspirings, What bar of thwarting foss or linked chain Did meet thee, that thou so should’st quit the hope Of further progress, or what bait of ease Or promise of allurement led thee on Elsewhere, that thou elsewhere should’st rather wait?”

A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice To answer, hardly to these sounds my lips Gave utterance, wailing: “Thy fair looks withdrawn, Things present, with deceitful pleasures, turn’d My steps aside.” She answering spake: “Hadst thou Been silent, or denied what thou avow’st, Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more: such eye Observes it. But whene’er the sinner’s cheek Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears Of self-accusing, in our court the wheel Of justice doth run counter to the edge. Howe’er that thou may’st profit by thy shame For errors past, and that henceforth more strength May arm thee, when thou hear’st the Siren-voice, Lay thou aside the motive to this grief, And lend attentive ear, while I unfold How opposite a way my buried flesh Should have impell’d thee. Never didst thou spy In art or nature aught so passing sweet, As were the limbs, that in their beauteous frame Enclos’d me, and are scatter’d now in dust. If sweetest thing thus fail’d thee with my death, What, afterward, of mortal should thy wish Have tempted? When thou first hadst felt the dart Of perishable things, in my departing For better realms, thy wing thou should’st have prun’d To follow me, and never stoop’d again To ’bide a second blow for a slight girl, Or other gaud as transient and as vain. The new and inexperienc’d bird awaits, Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler’s aim; But in the sight of one, whose plumes are full, In vain the net is spread, the arrow wing’d.”

I stood, as children silent and asham’d Stand, list’ning, with their eyes upon the earth, Acknowledging their fault and self-condemn’d. And she resum’d: “If, but to hear thus pains thee, Raise thou thy beard, and lo! what sight shall do!”

With less reluctance yields a sturdy holm, Rent from its fibers by a blast, that blows From off the pole, or from Iarbas’ land, Than I at her behest my visage rais’d: And thus the face denoting by the beard, I mark’d the secret sting her words convey’d.

No sooner lifted I mine aspect up, Than downward sunk that vision I beheld Of goodly creatures vanish; and mine eyes Yet unassur’d and wavering, bent their light On Beatrice. Towards the animal, Who joins two natures in one form, she turn’d, And, even under shadow of her veil, And parted by the verdant rill, that flow’d Between, in loveliness appear’d as much Her former self surpassing, as on earth All others she surpass’d. Remorseful goads Shot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more Its love had late beguil’d me, now the more I Was loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote The bitter consciousness, that on the ground O’erpower’d I fell: and what my state was then, She knows who was the cause. When now my strength Flow’d back, returning outward from the heart, The lady, whom alone I first had seen, I found above me. “Loose me not,” she cried: “Loose not thy hold;” and lo! had dragg’d me high As to my neck into the stream, while she, Still as she drew me after, swept along, Swift as a shuttle, bounding o’er the wave.

The blessed shore approaching then was heard So sweetly, “Tu asperges me,” that I May not remember, much less tell the sound. The beauteous dame, her arms expanding, clasp’d My temples, and immerg’d me, where ’t was fit The wave should drench me: and thence raising up, Within the fourfold dance of lovely nymphs Presented me so lav’d, and with their arm They each did cover me. “Here are we nymphs, And in the heav’n are stars. Or ever earth Was visited of Beatrice, we Appointed for her handmaids, tended on her. We to her eyes will lead thee; but the light Of gladness that is in them, well to scan, Those yonder three, of deeper ken than ours, Thy sight shall quicken.” Thus began their song; And then they led me to the Gryphon’s breast, While, turn’d toward us, Beatrice stood. “Spare not thy vision. We have stationed thee Before the emeralds, whence love erewhile Hath drawn his weapons on thee.” As they spake, A thousand fervent wishes riveted Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood Still fix’d toward the Gryphon motionless. As the sun strikes a mirror, even thus Within those orbs the twofold being, shone, For ever varying, in one figure now Reflected, now in other. Reader! muse How wond’rous in my sight it seem’d to mark A thing, albeit steadfast in itself, Yet in its imag’d semblance mutable.

Full of amaze, and joyous, while my soul Fed on the viand, whereof still desire Grows with satiety, the other three With gesture, that declar’d a loftier line, Advanc’d: to their own carol on they came Dancing in festive ring angelical.

“Turn, Beatrice!” was their song: “O turn Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one, Who to behold thee many a wearisome pace Hath measur’d. Gracious at our pray’r vouchsafe Unveil to him thy cheeks: that he may mark Thy second beauty, now conceal’d.” O splendour! O sacred light eternal! who is he So pale with musing in Pierian shades, Or with that fount so lavishly imbued, Whose spirit should not fail him in th’ essay To represent thee such as thou didst seem, When under cope of the still-chiming heaven Thou gav’st to open air thy charms reveal’d.

## CANTO XXXII

Mine eyes with such an eager coveting, Were bent to rid them of their ten years’ thirst, No other sense was waking: and e’en they Were fenc’d on either side from heed of aught; So tangled in its custom’d toils that smile Of saintly brightness drew me to itself, When forcibly toward the left my sight The sacred virgins turn’d; for from their lips I heard the warning sounds: “Too fix’d a gaze!”

Awhile my vision labor’d; as when late Upon the’ o’erstrained eyes the sun hath smote: But soon to lesser object, as the view Was now recover’d (lesser in respect To that excess of sensible, whence late I had perforce been sunder’d) on their right I mark’d that glorious army wheel, and turn, Against the sun and sev’nfold lights, their front. As when, their bucklers for protection rais’d, A well-rang’d troop, with portly banners curl’d, Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground: E’en thus the goodly regiment of heav’n Proceeding, all did pass us, ere the car Had slop’d his beam. Attendant at the wheels The damsels turn’d; and on the Gryphon mov’d The sacred burden, with a pace so smooth, No feather on him trembled. The fair dame Who through the wave had drawn me, companied By Statius and myself, pursued the wheel, Whose orbit, rolling, mark’d a lesser arch.

Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame, Who by the serpent was beguil’d) I past With step in cadence to the harmony Angelic. Onward had we mov’d, as far Perchance as arrow at three several flights Full wing’d had sped, when from her station down Descended Beatrice. With one voice All murmur’d “Adam,” circling next a plant Despoil’d of flowers and leaf on every bough. Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose, Were such, as ’midst their forest wilds for height The Indians might have gaz’d at. “Blessed thou! Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck’d that tree Pleasant to taste: for hence the appetite Was warp’d to evil.” Round the stately trunk Thus shouted forth the rest, to whom return’d The animal twice-gender’d: “Yea: for so The generation of the just are sav’d.” And turning to the chariot-pole, to foot He drew it of the widow’d branch, and bound There left unto the stock whereon it grew.

As when large floods of radiance from above Stream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends Next after setting of the scaly sign, Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anew His wonted colours, ere the sun have yok’d Beneath another star his flamy steeds; Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose, And deeper than the violet, was renew’d The plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.

Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose. I understood it not, nor to the end Endur’d the harmony. Had I the skill To pencil forth, how clos’d th’ unpitying eyes Slumb’ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paid So dearly for their watching,) then like painter, That with a model paints, I might design The manner of my falling into sleep. But feign who will the slumber cunningly; I pass it by to when I wak’d, and tell How suddenly a flash of splendour rent The curtain of my sleep, and one cries out: “Arise, what dost thou?” As the chosen three, On Tabor’s mount, admitted to behold The blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruit Is coveted of angels, and doth make Perpetual feast in heaven, to themselves Returning at the word, whence deeper sleeps Were broken, that they their tribe diminish’d saw, Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang’d The stole their master wore: thus to myself Returning, over me beheld I stand The piteous one, who cross the stream had brought My steps. “And where,” all doubting, I exclaim’d, “Is Beatrice?”—“See her,” she replied, “Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root. Behold th’ associate choir that circles her. The others, with a melody more sweet And more profound, journeying to higher realms, Upon the Gryphon tend.” If there her words Were clos’d, I know not; but mine eyes had now Ta’en view of her, by whom all other thoughts Were barr’d admittance. On the very ground Alone she sat, as she had there been left A guard upon the wain, which I beheld Bound to the twyform beast. The seven nymphs Did make themselves a cloister round about her, And in their hands upheld those lights secure From blast septentrion and the gusty south.

“A little while thou shalt be forester here: And citizen shalt be forever with me, Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a Roman To profit the misguided world, keep now Thine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest, Take heed thou write, returning to that place.”