| |
| FROM centre to the circle, and so back | |
| From circle to the centre, water moves | |
| In the round chalice, even as the blow | |
| Impels it, inwardly, or from without. | |
| Such was the image 1 glanced into my mind, | 5 |
| As the great spirit of Aquinum ceased; | |
| And Beatrice, after him, her words | |
| Resumed alternate: “Need there is (though yet | |
| He tells it to you not in words, nor e’en | |
| In thought) that he should fathom to its depth | 10 |
| Another mystery. Tell him, if the light, | |
| Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you | |
| Eternally, as now; and, if it doth, | |
| How, when 2 ye shall regain your visible forms, | |
| The sight may without harm endure the change, | 15 |
| That also tell.” As those, who in a ring | |
| Tread the light measure, in their fitful mirth | |
| Raise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound; | |
| Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit, | |
| The saintly circles, in their tourneying | 20 |
| And wondrous note, attested new delight. | |
| Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb | |
| Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live | |
| Immortally above; he hath not seen | |
| The sweet refreshing of that heavenly shower. 3 | 25 |
| Him, who lives ever, and forever reigns | |
| In mystic union of the three in one, | |
| Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice | |
| Sang, with such melody, as, but to hear, | |
| For highest merit were an ample meed. | 30 |
| And from the lesser orb the goodliest light, 4 | |
| With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps | |
| The Angel’s once to Mary, thus replied: | |
| “Long as the joy of Paradise shall last, | |
| Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright | 35 |
| As fervent; fervent as, in vision, blest; | |
| And that as far, in blessedness, exceeding, | |
| As it hath grace, beyond its virtue, great. | |
| Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds | |
| Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire, | 40 |
| Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase | |
| Whate’er, of light, gratuitous imparts | |
| The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid, | |
| The better to disclose His glory; whence, | |
| The vision needs increasing, must increase | 45 |
| The fervour, which it kindles; and that too | |
| The ray, that comes from it. But as the gleed | |
| Which gives out flame, yet in its whiteness shines | |
| More livelily than that, and so preserves | |
| Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere | 50 |
| Of splendour shall to view less radiant seem, | |
| Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth | |
| Now covers. Nor will such excess of light | |
| O’erpower us, in corporeal organs made | |
| Firm, and susceptible of all delight.” | 55 |
| So ready and so cordial an “Amen” | |
| Follow’d from either choir, as plainly spoke | |
| Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance | |
| Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear, | |
| Mothers and sires, and those whom best they loved, | 60 |
| Ere they were made imperishable flame. | |
| And lo! forthwith there rose up round about | |
| A lustre, over that already there; | |
| Of equal clearness, like the brightening up | |
| Of the horizon. As at evening hour | 65 |
| Of twilight, new appearances through Heaven | |
| Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried; | |
| So, there, new substances, methought, began | |
| To rise in view beyond the other twain, | |
| And wheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide. | 70 |
| O genuine glitter of eternal Beam! | |
| With what a sudden whiteness did it flow, | |
| O’erpowering vision in me. But so fair, | |
| So passing lovely, Beatrice show’d, | |
| Mind cannot follow it, nor words express | 75 |
| Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain’d | |
| Power to look up; and I beheld myself, | |
| Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss 5 | |
| Translated: for the star, with warmer smile | |
| Impurpled, well denoted our ascent. | 80 |
| With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks | |
| The same in all, an holocaust I made | |
| To God, befitting the new grace vouchsafed. | |
| And from my bosom had not yet upsteam’d | |
| The fuming of that incense, when I knew | 85 |
| The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen | |
| And mantling crimson, in two listed rays | |
| The splendours shot before me, that I cried, | |
| “God of Sabaoth! that dost prank them thus!” | |
| As leads the galaxy from pole to pole, | 90 |
| Distinguish’d into greater lights and less, | |
| Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell; | |
| So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars, | |
| Those rays described the venerable sign, | |
| That quadrants in the round conjoining frame. | 95 |
| Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ | |
| Beam’d on that cross; and pattern fails me now. | |
| But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ, | |
| Will pardon me for that I leave untold, | |
| When in the flecker’d dawning he shall spy | 100 |
| The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn, | |
| And ’tween the summit and the base, did move | |
| Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass’d. | |
| Thus oft are seen with ever-changeful glance, | |
| Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, | 105 |
| The atomies of bodies, long or short, | |
| To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line | |
| Checkers the shadow interposed by art | |
| Against the noontide heat. And as the chime | |
| Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and harp | 110 |
| With many strings, a pleasant dinning makes | |
| To him, who heareth not distinct the note; | |
| So from the lights, which there appear’d to me, | |
| Gather’d along the cross a melody, | |
| That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment | 115 |
| Possess’d me. Yet I mark’d it was a hymn | |
| Of lofty praises; for there came to me | |
| “Arise,” and “Conquer,” as to one who hears | |
| And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy | |
| O’ercame, that never, till that hour, was thing | 120 |
| That held me in so sweet imprisonment. | |
| Perhaps my saying overbold appears, | |
| Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes, | |
| Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire. | |
| But he, who is aware those living seals | 125 |
| Of every beauty work with quicker force, | |
| The higher they are risen; and that there | |
| I had not turn’d me to them; he may well | |
| Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse | |
| I do accuse me, and may own my truth; | 130 |
| That holy pleasure here not yet reveal’d | |
| Which grows in transport as we mount aloof. | |
