| |
| WITH dazzled eyes, whilst wondering I remain’d; | |
| Forth of the beamy flame, 1 which dazzled me, | |
| Issued a breath, that in attention mute | |
| Detain’d me; and these words it spake: “’Twere well | |
| That, long as till thy vision, on my form | 5 |
| O’erspent, regain its virtue, with discourse | |
| Thou compensate the brief delay. Say then, | |
| Beginning, to what point thy soul aspires: | |
| And meanwhile rest assured, that sight in thee | |
| Is but o’erpower’d a space, not wholly quench’d; | 10 |
| Since thy fair guide and lovely, in her look | |
| Hath potency, the like to that, which dwelt | |
| In Ananias’ hand.” 2 I answering thus: | |
| “Be to mine eyes the remedy, or late | |
| Or early, at her pleasure; for they were | 15 |
| The gates, at which she enter’d, and did light | |
| Her never-dying fire. My wishes here | |
| Are centred: in this palace is the weal, | |
| That Alpha and Omega is, to all | |
| The lessons love can read me.” Yet again | 20 |
| The voice, which had dispersed my fear when dazed | |
| With that excess, to converse urged, and spake: | |
| “Behoves thee sift more narrowly thy terms; | |
| And say, who level’d at this scope thy bow.” | |
| “Philosophy,” said I, “hath arguments, | 25 |
| And this place hath authority enough, | |
| To imprint in me such love: for, of constraint, | |
| Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good, | |
| Kindles our love; and in degree the more, | |
| As it comprises more of goodness in ’t. | 30 |
| The essence then, where such advantage is, | |
| That each good, found without it, is naught else | |
| But of His light the beam, must needs attract | |
| The soul of each one, loving, who the truth | |
| Discerns, on which this proof is built. Such truth | 35 |
| Learn I from Him, who shows me the first love | |
| Of all intelligential substances | |
| Eternal: from His voice I learn, whose word | |
| Is truth; that of Himself to Moses saith, | |
| ‘I will make all My good before thee pass:’ | 40 |
| Lastly, from thee I learn, who chief proclaim’st, | |
| E’en at the outset 3 of thy heralding, | |
| In mortal ears the mystery of Heaven.” | |
| “Through human wisdom, and the authority | |
| Therewith agreeing,” heard I answer’d, “keep | 45 |
| The choicest of thy love for God. But say, | |
| If thou yet other cords within thee feel’st, | |
| That draw thee towards Him; so that thou report | |
| How many are the fangs, with which this love | |
| Is grappled to thy soul.” I did not miss, | 50 |
| To what intent the eagle of our Lord 4 | |
| Had pointed his demand; yea, noted well | |
| The avowal which he led to; and resumed: | |
| “All grappling bonds, that knit the heart to God, | |
| Confederate to make fast our charity. | 55 |
| The being of the world; and mine own being; | |
| The death which He endured, that I should live; | |
| And that, which all the faithful hope, as I do; | |
| To the foremention’d lively knowledge join’d; | |
| Have from the sea of ill love saved my bark, | 60 |
| And on the coast secured it of the right. | |
| As for the leaves, 5 that in the garden bloom, | |
| My love for them is great, as is the good | |
| Dealt by the eternal hand, that tends them all.” | |
| I ended: and therewith a song most sweet | 65 |
| Rang through the spheres; and “Holy, holy, holy,” | |
| Accordant with the rest, my lady sang. | |
| And as a sleep is broken and dispersed | |
| Through sharp encounter of the nimble light, | |
| With the eye’s spirit running forth to meet | 70 |
| The ray, from membrane on to membrane urged; | |
| And the upstartled wight loathes that he sees; | |
| So, at his sudden waking, he misdeems | |
| Of all around him, till assurance waits | |
| On better judgment: thus the saintly dame | 75 |
| Drove from before mine eyes the motes away, | |
| With the resplendence of her own, that cast | |
| Their brightness downward, thousand miles below. | |
| Whence I my vision, clearer than before, | |
| Recover’d; and well nigh astounded, ask’d | 80 |
| Of a fourth light, that now with us I saw. | |
| And Beatrice: “The first living soul, 6 | |
| That ever the first Virtue framed, admires | |
| Within these rays his Maker.” Like the leaf, | |
| That bows its lithe top till the blast is blown; | 85 |
| By its own virtue rear’d, then stands aloof: | |
| So I, the whilst she said, awe-stricken bow’d. | |
| Then eagerness to speak embolden’d me; | |
| And I began: “O fruit! that wast alone | |
| Mature, when first engender’d; ancient father! | 90 |
| That doubly seest in every wedded bride | |
| Thy daughter, by affinity and blood; | |
| Devoutly as I may, I pray thee hold | |
| Converse with me: my will thou seest: and I, | |
| More speedily to hear thee, tell it not.” | 95 |
| It chanceth oft some animal bewrays, | |
| Through the sleek covering of his furry coat, | |
| The fondness, that stirs in him, and conforms | |
| His outside seeming to the cheer within: | |
| And in like guise was Adam’s spirit moved | 100 |
| To joyous mood, that through the covering shone, | |
| Transparent, when to pleasure me it spake: | |
| “No need thy will be told, which I untold | |
| Better discern, than thou whatever thing | |
| Thou hold’st most certain: for that will I see | 105 |
| In Him, who is truth’s mirror; and Himself, | |
| Parhelion unto all things, and naught else, | |
| To Him. This wouldst thou hear: how long since, God | |
| Placed me in that high garden, from whose bounds | |
| She led thee up this ladder, steep and long; | 110 |
| What space endured my season of delight; | |
| Whence truly sprang the wrath that banish’d me; | |
| And what the language, which I spake and framed. | |
| Not that I tasted of the tree, my son, | |
| Was in itself the cause of that exile, | 115 |
| But only my transgressing of the mark | |
| Assign’d me. There, whence 7 at thy lady’s hest | |
| The Mantuan moved him, still was I debarr’d | |
| This council, till the sun had made complete, | |
| Four thousand and three hundred rounds and twice, | 120 |
| His annual journey; and, through every light | |
| In his broad pathway, saw I him return, | |
| Thousand save seventy times, the whilst I dwelt | |
| Upon the earth. The language I did use | |
| Was worn away, or ever Nimrod’s race | 125 |
| Their unaccomplishable work began. | |
| For naught, that man inclines to, e’er was lasting; | |
| Left by his reason free, and variable | |
| As is the sky that sways him. That he speaks, | |
| Is nature’s prompting: whether thus, or thus, | 130 |
| She leaves to you, as ye do most affect it. | |
| Ere I descended into Hell’s abyss, | |
| El was the name on earth of the Chief Good, | |
| Whose joy enfolds me: Eli then ’twas call’d. | |
| And so beseemeth: for, in mortals, use | 135 |
| Is as the leaf upon the bough: that goes, | |
| And other comes instead. Upon the mount | |
| Most high above the waters, all my life, | |
| Both innocent and guilty, did but reach | |
| From the first hour, to that which cometh next | 140 |
| (As the sun changes quarter) to the sixth.” | |
