| |
| THAT sun, 1 which erst with love my bosom warmed, | |
| Had of fair truth unveil’d the sweet aspect, | |
| By proof of right, and of the false reproof; | |
| And I, to own myself convinced and free | |
| Of doubt, as much as needed, raised my head | 5 |
| Erect for speech. But soon a sight appear’d, | |
| Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix’d | |
| That of confession I no longer thought. | |
| As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave | |
| Clear and unmoved, and flowing not so deep | 10 |
| As that its bed is dark, the shape returns | |
| So faint of our impictured lineaments, | |
| That, on white forehead set, a pearl as strong | |
| Comes to the eye; such saw I many a face, | |
| All stretch’d to speak; from whence I straight conceived, | 15 |
| Delusion 2 opposite to that, which raised, | |
| Between the man and fountain, amorous flame. | |
| Sudden, as I perceived them, deeming these | |
| Reflected semblances, to see of whom | |
| They were, I turn’d mine eyes, and nothing saw; | 20 |
| Then turn’d them back, directed on the light | |
| Of my sweet guide, who, smiling, shot forth beams | |
| From her celestial eyes. “Wonder not thou,” | |
| She cried, “at this my smiling, when I see | |
| Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth | 25 |
| It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont, | |
| Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy. | |
| True substances are these, which thou behold’st, | |
| Hither through failure of their vow exiled. | |
| But speak thou with them; listen, and believe, | 30 |
| That the true light, which fills them with desire, | |
| Permits not from its beams their feet to stray.” | |
| Straight to the shadow, which for converse seem’d | |
| Most earnest, I address’d me; and began | |
| As one by over-eagerness perplex’d: | 35 |
| “O spirit, born of joy! who in the rays | |
| Of life eternal, of that sweetness know’st | |
| The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far | |
| All apprehension; me it well would please, | |
| If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this | 40 |
| Your station here.” Whence she with kindness prompt | |
| And eyes glist’ring with smiles: “Our charity, | |
| To any wish by justice introduced, | |
| Bars not the door; no more than She above, | |
| Who would have all her court be like herself. | 45 |
| I was a virgin sister in the earth; | |
| And if thy mind observe me well, this form, | |
| With such addition graced of loveliness, | |
| Will not conceal me long; but thou wilt know | |
| Piccarda, 3 in the tardiest sphere thus placed, | 50 |
| Here ’mid these other blessed also blest. | |
| Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone | |
| With pleasure from the Holy Spirit conceived, | |
| Admitted to His order, dwell in joy. | |
| And this condition, which appears so low, | 55 |
| Is for this cause assign’d us, that our vows | |
| Were, in some part, neglected and made void.” | |
| Whence I to her replied: “Something divine | |
| Beams in your countenances wondrous fair; | |
| From former knowledge quite transmitting you. | 60 |
| Therefore to recollect was I so slow. | |
| But what thou say’st hath to my memory | |
| Given now such aid, that to retrace your forms | |
| Is easier. Yet inform me, ye, who here | |
| Are happy; long ye for a higher place, | 65 |
| More to behold, and more in love to dwell?” | |
| She with those other spirits gently smiled; | |
| Then answer’d with such gladness, that she seem’d | |
| With love’s first flame to glow: “Brother! our will | |
| Is, in composure, settled by the power | 70 |
| Of charity, who makes us will alone | |
| What we possess, and naught beyond desire: | |
| If we should wish to be exalted more, | |
| Then must our wishes jar with the high will | |
| Of Him, who sets us here; which in these orbs | 75 |
| Thou wilt confess not possible, if here | |
| To be in charity must needs befall, | |
| And if her nature well thou contemplate. | |
| Rather it is inherent in this state | |
| Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within | 80 |
| The Divine Will, by which our wills with His | |
| Are one. So that as we, from step to step, | |
| Are placed throughout this kingdom, pleases all, | |
| Even as our King, who in us plants His will; | |
| And in His will is our tranquillity: | 85 |
| It is the mighty ocean, whither tends | |
| Whatever it creates and Nature makes.” | |
| Then saw I clearly how each spot in Heaven | |
| Is Paradise, though with like gracious dew | |
| The supreme virtue shower not over all. | 90 |
| But as it chances, if one sort of food | |
| Hath satiated, and of another still | |
| The appetite remains, that this is ask’d, | |
| And thanks for that return’d; e’en so did I, | |
| In word and motion, bent from her to learn | 95 |
| What web it was, 4 through which she had not drawn | |
| The shuttle to its point. She thus began: | |
| “Exalted worth and perfectness of life | |
| The Lady 5 higher up inshrine in Heaven, | |
| By whose pure laws upon your nether earth | 100 |
| The robe and veil they wear; to that intent, | |
| That e’en till death they may keep watch, or sleep, | |
| With their great Bridegroom, who accepts each vow, | |
| Which to His gracious pleasure love conforms. | |
| I from the world, to follow her, when young | 105 |
| Escaped; and, in her vesture mantling me, | |
| Made promise of the way her sect enjoins. | |
| Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt, | |
| Forth snatch’d me from the pleasant cloister’s pale. | |
| God knows 6 how, after that, my life was framed. | 110 |
| This other splendid shape, which thou behold’st | |
| At my right side, burning with all the light | |
| Of this our orb, what of myself I tell | |
| May to herself apply. From her, like me | |
| A sister, with like violence were torn | 115 |
| The saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows. | |
| E’en when she to the world again was brought | |
| In spite of her own will and better wont, | |
| Yet not for that the bosom’s inward veil | |
| Did she renounce. This is the luminary | 120 |
| Of mighty Constance, 7 who from that loud blast, | |
| Which blew the second 8 over Suabia’s realm, | |
| That power produced, which was the third and last.” | |
| She ceased from further talk, and then began | |
| “Ave Maria” singing; and with that song | 125 |
| Vanish’d, as heavy substance through deep wave. | |
| Mine eye, that, far as it was capable, | |
| Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost, | |
| Turn’d to the mark where greater want impell’d | |
| And bent on Beatrice all its gaze. | 130 |
| But she, as lightning, beam’d upon my looks; | |
| So that the sight sustain’d it not at first. | |
| Whence I to question her became less prompt. | |
