| |
| 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: | 5 |
| 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 | 10 |
| Wistfully on that region, 1 where the sun | |
| Abateth most his speed; that, seeing her | |
| Suspense and wondering, I became as one, | |
| In whom desire is waken’d, and the hope | |
| Of somewhat new to come fills with delight. | 15 |
| Short space ensued; I was not held, I say, | |
| Long in expectance, when I saw the Heaven | |
| Wax more and more resplendent; and, “Behold,” | |
| Cried Beatrice, “the triumphal hosts | |
| Of Christ, and all the harvest gather’d in, | 20 |
| Made ripe by these revolving spheres.” Meseem’d, | |
| That, while she spake, her image all did burn; | |
| And in her eyes such fulness was of joy, | |
| As I am fain to pass unconstrued by. | |
| As in the calm full moon, when Trivia 2 smiles, | 25 |
| In peerless beauty, ’mid the eternal nymphs, 3 | |
| 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: | 30 |
| And, through the living light, so lustrous glow’d | |
| The substance, that my ken endured it not. | |
| O Beatrice! sweet and precious guide, | |
| Who cheer’d me with her comfortable words: | |
| “Against the virtue, that o’erpowereth thee, | 35 |
| Avails not to resist. Here is the Might, 4 | |
| And here the Wisdom, which did open lay | |
| The path, that had been yearned for so long, | |
| Betwixt the Heaven and earth.” Like to the fire, | |
| That, in a cloud imprison’d, doth break out | 40 |
| Expansive, so that from its womb enlarged, | |
| It falleth against nature to the ground; | |
| Thus, in that heavenly banqueting, my soul | |
| Outgrew herself; and, in the transport lost, | |
| Holds now remembrance none of what she was. | 45 |
| “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: | 50 |
| 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 | 55 |
| 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, | |
| How merely, in her saintly looks, it wrought. | |
| And, with such figuring of Paradise, | 60 |
| 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 ’tis laid upon a mortal shoulder, | |
| May pardon, if it tremble with the burden. | 65 |
| The track, our venturous 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 | 70 |
| Beneath the rays of Christ? Here is the Rose, 5 | |
| Wherein the Word Divine was made incarnate; | |
| And here the lilies,.. 6 by whose odour known | |
| The way of life was follow’d.” Prompt I heard | |
| Her bidding, and encounter’d once again | 75 |
| The strife of aching vision. As, erewhile, [cloud, | |
| Through glance of sun-light, stream’d through broken | |
| 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 | 80 |
| 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, 7 to give room | |
| To my o’erlabour’d sight; when at the name | 85 |
| Of that fair flower, 8 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 Heaven excelling, as once here on earth, | 90 |
| Were, in my eye-balls livelily pourtray’d; | |
| Lo! from within the sky a cresset 9 fell, | |
| Circling in fashion of a diadem; | |
| And girt the star; and, hovering, round it wheel’d. | |
| Whatever melody sounds sweetest here, | 95 |
| And draws the spirit most onto itself, | |
| Might seem a rent cloud, when it grates the thunder; | |
| Compared unto the sounding of that lyre, 10 | |
| Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, 11 that inlays | |
| The floor of Heaven was crown’d. “Angelic Love | 100 |
| I am, who thus with hovering flight enwheel | |
| The lofty rapture from that womb inspired, | |
| Where our desire did dwell: and round thee so, | |
| Lady of Heaven! will hover; long as thou | |
| Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy | 105 |
| 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, 12 that with its regal folds enwraps | 110 |
| The world, and with the nearer breath of God | |
| Doth burn and quiver, held so far retired | |
| Its inner hem and skirting over us, | |
| That yet no glimmer of its majesty | |
| Had stream’d unto me: therefore were mine eyes | 115 |
| Unequal to pursue the crowned flame, 13 | |
| That towering rose, and sought the seed 14 it bore. | |
| And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms | |
| For every eagerness toward the breast, | |
| After the milk is taken; so outstretch’d | 120 |
| Their wavy summits all the fervent band, | |
| Through zealous love to Mary: then, in view, | |
| There halted; and “Regina Cœli” 15 sang | |
| So sweetly, the delight hath left me never. | |
| Oh! what o’erflowing plenty is up-piled | 125 |
| In those rich-laden coffers, 16 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 17 won, | |
| When gold had fail’d them. Here, in synod high | 130 |
| Of ancient council with the new convened, | |
| Under the Son of Mary and of God, | |
| Victorious he 18 his mighty triumph holds, | |
| To whom the keys of glory were assign’d. | |
