| |
| IN fashion, as a snow white rose, lay then | |
| Before my view the saintly multitude, 1 | |
| Which in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile, | |
| That other host, 2 that soar aloft to gaze | |
| And celebrate His glory, whom they love, | 5 |
| Hover’d around; and, like a troop of bees, | |
| Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, | |
| Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, | |
| Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose | |
| From the redundant petals, streaming back | 10 |
| Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy, | |
| Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold: | |
| The rest was whiter than the driven snow; | |
| And, as they flitted down into the flower, | |
| From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, | 15 |
| Whisper’d the peace and ardour, which they won | |
| From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast | |
| Interposition of such numerous flight | |
| Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view | |
| Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, | 20 |
| Wherever merited, celestial light | |
| Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents. | |
| All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, | |
| Ages long past or new, on one sole mark | |
| Their love and vision fix’d. O trinal beam | 25 |
| Of individual star, that charm’st them thus! | |
| Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below. 3 | |
| If the grim brood, 4 from Arctic shores that roam’d, | |
| (Where Helice 5 for ever, as she wheels, | |
| Sparkles a mother’s fondness on her son), | 30 |
| Stood in mute wonder’ mid the works of Rome, | |
| When to their view the Lateran arose | |
| In greatness more than earthly; I, who then | |
| From human to divine had past, from time | |
| Unto eternity, and out of Florence | 35 |
| To justice and to truth, how might I chuse | |
| But marvel too? ’Twixt gladness and amaze, | |
| In sooth no will had I to utter aught, | |
| Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests | |
| Within the temple of his vow, looks round | 40 |
| In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell | |
| Of all its goodly state; e’en so mine eyes | |
| Coursed up and down along the living light, | |
| Now low, and now aloft, and now around, | |
| Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, | 45 |
| Where charity in soft persuasion sat; | |
| Smiles from within, and radiance from above; | |
| And, in each gesture, grace and honour high. | |
| So roved my ken, and in its general form | |
| All Paradise survey’d: when round I turn’d | 50 |
| With purpose of my lady to inquire | |
| Once more of things, that held my thought suspense. | |
| But answer found from other than I ween’d; | |
| For, Beatrice, when I thought to see, | |
| I saw instead a senior, at my side, | 55 |
| Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign | |
| Glow’d in his eye, and o’er his cheek diffused, | |
| With gestures such as spake a father’s love. | |
| And, “Whither is she vanish’d?” straight I ask’d. | |
| “By Beatrice summon’d,” he replied, | 60 |
| “I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft | |
| To the third circle from the highest, there | |
| Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit | |
| Hath placed her.” Answering not, mine eyes I raised, | |
| And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow | 65 |
| A wreath reflecting of eternal beams. | |
| Not from the centre of the sea so far | |
| Unto the region of the highest thunder, | |
| As was my ken from hers; and yet the form | |
| Came through that medium down, unmix’d and pure. | 70 |
| “O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest; | |
| Who, for my safety, hast not scorn’d, in Hell | |
| To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark’d; | |
| for all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power | |
| And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave | 75 |
| Thou hast to freedom brought me: and no means, | |
| For my deliverance apt, hast left untried. | |
| Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep: | |
| That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, | |
| Is loosen’d from this body, it may find | 80 |
| Favour with thee.” So I my suit preferr’d: | |
| And she, so distant, as appear’d, look’d down, | |
| And smiled; then toward the eternal fountain turn’d. | |
| And thus the senior, holy and revered: | |
| “That thou at length mayst happily conclude | 85 |
| Thy voyage, (to which end I was despatch’d, | |
| By supplication moved and holy love), | |
| Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large, | |
| This garden through: for so, by ray divine | |
| Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount; | 90 |
| And from Heaven’s Queen, whom fervent I adore, | |
| All gracious aid befriend us; for that I | |
| Am her own faithful Bernard.” 6 Like a wight, | |
| Who haply from Croatia wends to see | |
| Our Veronica, 7 and, the while ’tis shown, | 95 |
| Hangs over it with never-sated gaze, | |
| And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith | |
| Unto himself in thought: “And didst Thou look | |
| E’en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God? | |
| And was this semblance Thine?” So gazed I then | 100 |
| Adoring; for the charity of him, 8 | |
| Who musing, in this world that peace enjoy’d, | |
| Stood livelily before me. “Child of grace!” | |
| Thus he began: “Thou shalt not knowledge gain | |
| Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held | 105 |
| Still in this depth below. But search around | |
| The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy | |
| Seated in state, the Queen 9 that of this realm | |
| Is sovran.” Straight mine eyes I raised; and bright, | |
| As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime | 110 |
| Above the horizon, where the sun declines; | |
| So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale | |
| To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part | |
| Excell’d in lustre all the front opposed. | |
| And as the glow burns ruddiest o’er the wave, | 115 |
| That waits the ascending team, which Phaëton | |
| Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light | |
| Diminish’d fades, intensest in the midst; | |
| So burn’d the peaceful oriflame, and slack’d | |
| On every side the living flame decay’d. | 120 |
| And in that midst their sportive pennons waved | |
| Thousands of Angels; in resplendence each | |
| Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee | |
| And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven, | |
| That joy was in the eyes of all the blest. | 125 |
| Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, | |
| As is the colouring in fancy’s loom, | |
| ’Twere all too poor to utter the least part | |
| Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes | |
| Intent on her, that charm’d him; Bernard gazed | 130 |
| With so exceeding fondness, as infused | |
| Ardour into my breast, unfelt before. | |
