The Vision of Dante Alighiere or Hell, Purgatory and Paradise Page 12

Unequal to my theme, as never bard

  Of buskin or of sock hath fail'd before.

  For, as the sun doth to the feeblest sight,

  E'en so remembrance of that witching smile

  Hath dispossess my spirit of itself.

  Not from that day, when on this earth I first

  Beheld her charms, up to that view of them,

  Have I with song applausive ever ceas'd

  To follow, but not follow them no more;

  My course here bounded, as each artist's is,

  When it doth touch the limit of his skill.

  She (such as I bequeath her to the bruit

  Of louder trump than mine, which hasteneth on,

  Urging its arduous matter to the close),

  Her words resum'd, in gesture and in voice

  Resembling one accustom'd to command:

  "Forth from the last corporeal are we come

  Into the heav'n, that is unbodied light,

  Light intellectual replete with love,

  Love of true happiness replete with joy,

  Joy, that transcends all sweetness of delight.

  Here shalt thou look on either mighty host

  Of Paradise; and one in that array,

  Which in the final judgment thou shalt see."

  As when the lightning, in a sudden spleen

  Unfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes

  The visive spirits dazzled and bedimm'd;

  So, round about me, fulminating streams

  Of living radiance play'd, and left me swath'd

  And veil'd in dense impenetrable blaze.

  Such weal is in the love, that stills this heav'n;

  For its own flame the torch this fitting ever!

  No sooner to my list'ning ear had come

  The brief assurance, than I understood

  New virtue into me infus'd, and sight

  Kindled afresh, with vigour to sustain

  Excess of light, however pure. I look'd;

  And in the likeness of a river saw

  Light flowing, from whose amber-seeming waves

  Flash'd up effulgence, as they glided on

  'Twixt banks, on either side, painted with spring,

  Incredible how fair; and, from the tide,

  There ever and anon, outstarting, flew

  Sparkles instinct with life; and in the flow'rs

  Did set them, like to rubies chas'd in gold;

  Then, as if drunk with odors, plung'd again

  Into the wondrous flood; from which, as one

  Re'enter'd, still another rose. "The thirst

  Of knowledge high, whereby thou art inflam'd,

  To search the meaning of what here thou seest,

  The more it warms thee, pleases me the more.

  But first behooves thee of this water drink,

  Or ere that longing be allay'd." So spake

  The day-star of mine eyes; then thus subjoin'd:

  "This stream, and these, forth issuing from its gulf,

  And diving back, a living topaz each,

  With all this laughter on its bloomy shores,

  Are but a preface, shadowy of the truth

  They emblem: not that, in themselves, the things

  Are crude; but on thy part is the defect,

  For that thy views not yet aspire so high."

  Never did babe, that had outslept his wont,

  Rush, with such eager straining, to the milk,

  As I toward the water, bending me,

  To make the better mirrors of mine eyes

  In the refining wave; and, as the eaves

  Of mine eyelids did drink of it, forthwith

  Seem'd it unto me turn'd from length to round,

  Then as a troop of maskers, when they put

  Their vizors off, look other than before,

  The counterfeited semblance thrown aside;

  So into greater jubilee were chang'd

  Those flowers and sparkles, and distinct I saw

  Before me either court of heav'n displac'd.

  O prime enlightener! thou who crav'st me strength

  On the high triumph of thy realm to gaze!

  Grant virtue now to utter what I kenn'd,

  There is in heav'n a light, whose goodly shine

  Makes the Creator visible to all

  Created, that in seeing him alone

  Have peace; and in a circle spreads so far,

  That the circumference were too loose a zone

  To girdle in the sun. All is one beam,

  Reflected from the summit of the first,

  That moves, which being hence and vigour takes,

  And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes

  Its image mirror'd in the crystal flood,

  As if 't admire its brave appareling

  Of verdure and of flowers: so, round about,

  Eyeing the light, on more than million thrones,

  Stood, eminent, whatever from our earth

  Has to the skies return'd. How wide the leaves

  Extended to their utmost of this rose,

  Whose lowest step embosoms such a space

  Of ample radiance! Yet, nor amplitude

  Nor height impeded, but my view with ease

  Took in the full dimensions of that joy.

  Near or remote, what there avails, where God

  Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends

  Her sway? Into the yellow of the rose

  Perennial, which in bright expansiveness,

  Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent

  Of praises to the never-wint'ring sun,

  As one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace,

  Beatrice led me; and, "Behold," she said,

  "This fair assemblage! stoles of snowy white

  How numberless! The city, where we dwell,

  Behold how vast! and these our seats so throng'd

  Few now are wanting here! In that proud stall,

  On which, the crown, already o'er its state

  Suspended, holds thine eyes--or ere thyself

  Mayst at the wedding sup,--shall rest the soul

  Of the great Harry, he who, by the world

  Augustas hail'd, to Italy must come,

  Before her day be ripe. But ye are sick,

  And in your tetchy wantonness as blind,

  As is the bantling, that of hunger dies,

  And drives away the nurse. Nor may it be,

  That he, who in the sacred forum sways,

  Openly or in secret, shall with him

  Accordant walk: Whom God will not endure

  I' th' holy office long; but thrust him down

  To Simon Magus, where Magna's priest

  Will sink beneath him: such will be his meed."

  CANTO XXXI

  In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then

  Before my view the saintly multitude,

  Which in his own blood Christ espous'd. Meanwhile

  That other host, that soar aloft to gaze

  And celebrate his glory, whom they love,

  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 flow'r, or rose

  From the redundant petals, streaming back

  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,

  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,

  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

  Of individual star, that charmst them thus,

  Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below!

  If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roam'd,

  (Where helice, forever, as she wheels,

  Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son)

  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

  To justice and to truth, how might I choose

  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

  In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell

  Of all its goodly state: e'en so mine eyes

  Cours'd up and down along the living light,

  Now low, and now aloft, and now around,

  Visiting every step. Looks I beheld,

  Where charity in soft persuasion sat,

  Smiles from within and radiance from above,

  And in each gesture grace and honour high.

  So rov'd my ken, and its general form

  All Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd

  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,

  Rob'd, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign

  Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffus'd,

  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,

  "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 plac'd her." Answering not, mine eyes I rais'd,

  And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow

  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,

  "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,

  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

  Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr'd:

  And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down,

  And smil'd; then tow'rds th' eternal fountain turn'd.

  And thus the senior, holy and rever'd:

  "That thou at length mayst happily conclude

  Thy voyage (to which end I was dispatch'd,

  By supplication mov'd 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;

  And from heav'n's queen, whom fervent I adore,

  All gracious aid befriend us; for that I

  Am her own faithful Bernard." Like a wight,

  Who haply from Croatia wends to see

  Our Veronica, and the while 't is shown,

  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 gaz'd I then

  Adoring; for the charity of him,

  Who musing, in the world that peace enjoy'd,

  Stood lively before me. "Child of grace!"

  Thus he began: "thou shalt not knowledge gain

  Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held

  Still in this depth below. But search around

  The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy

  Seated in state, the queen, that of this realm

  Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I rais'd; and bright,

  As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime

  Above th' horizon, where the sun declines;

  To mine eyes, that upward, as from vale

  To mountain sped, at th' extreme bound, a part

  Excell'd in lustre all the front oppos'd.

  And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave,

  That waits the sloping beam, which Phaeton

  Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light

  Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;

  So burn'd the peaceful oriflamb, and slack'd

  On every side the living flame decay'd.

  And in that midst their sportive pennons wav'd

  Thousands of angels; in resplendence each

  Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee

  And carol, smil'd the Lovely One of heav'n,

  That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.

  Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich,

  As is the colouring in fancy's loom,

  'T were all too poor to utter the least part

  Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes

  Intent on her, that charm'd him, Bernard gaz'd

  With so exceeding fondness, as infus'd

  Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.

  CANTO XXXII

  Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high,

  Assum'd the teacher's part, and mild began:

  "The wound, that Mary clos'd, she open'd first,

  Who sits so beautiful at Mary's feet.

  The third in order, underneath her, lo!

  Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next,

  Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid,

  Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songs

  Of sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.

  All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf,

  Are in gradation throned on the rose.

  And from the seventh step, successively,

  Adown the breathing tresses of the flow'r

  Still doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.

  For these are a partition wall, whereby

  The sacred stairs are sever'd, as the faith

  In Christ divides them. On this part, where blooms

  Each leaf in full maturity, are set

  Such as in Christ, or ere he came, believ'd.

  On th' other, where an intersected space

  Yet shows the semicircle void, abide

  All they, who look'd to Christ already come.

  And as our Lady on her glorious stool,

  And they who on their stools beneath her sit,

  This way distinction make: e'en so on his,

  The mighty Baptist that way marks the line

  (He who endur'd the desert and the pains

  Of martyrdom, and for two years of hell,

  Yet still continued holy), and beneath,

  Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest,

  Thus far from round to round. So heav'n's decree

  Forecasts, this garden equally to fill.

  With faith in either view, past or to come,

  Learn too, that
downward from the step, which cleaves

  Midway the twain compartments, none there are

  Who place obtain for merit of their own,

  But have through others' merit been advanc'd,

  On set conditions: spirits all releas'd,

  Ere for themselves they had the power to choose.

  And, if thou mark and listen to them well,

  Their childish looks and voice declare as much.

  "Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt;

  And gladly will I loose the knot, wherein

  Thy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realm

  Excluded, chalice no entrance here may find,

  No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.

  A law immutable hath establish'd all;

  Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit,

  Exactly, as the finger to the ring.

  It is not therefore without cause, that these,

  O'erspeedy comers to immortal life,

  Are different in their shares of excellence.

  Our Sovran Lord--that settleth this estate

  In love and in delight so absolute,

  That wish can dare no further--every soul,

  Created in his joyous sight to dwell,

  With grace at pleasure variously endows.

  And for a proof th' effect may well suffice.

  And 't is moreover most expressly mark'd

  In holy scripture, where the twins are said

  To, have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as grace

  Inweaves the coronet, so every brow

  Weareth its proper hue of orient light.

  And merely in respect to his prime gift,

  Not in reward of meritorious deed,

  Hath each his several degree assign'd.

  In early times with their own innocence

  More was not wanting, than the parents' faith,

  To save them: those first ages past, behoov'd

  That circumcision in the males should imp

  The flight of innocent wings: but since the day

  Of grace hath come, without baptismal rites

  In Christ accomplish'd, innocence herself

  Must linger yet below. Now raise thy view

  Unto the visage most resembling Christ:

  For, in her splendour only, shalt thou win

  The pow'r to look on him." Forthwith I saw

  Such floods of gladness on her visage shower'd,

  From holy spirits, winging that profound;

  That, whatsoever I had yet beheld,

  Had not so much suspended me with wonder,

  Or shown me such similitude of God.

  And he, who had to her descended, once,

  On earth, now hail'd in heav'n; and on pois'd wing.

  "Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena," sang:

  To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court,

  From all parts answ'ring, rang: that holier joy

  Brooded the deep serene. "Father rever'd:

  Who deign'st, for me, to quit the pleasant place,

  Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot!

  Say, who that angel is, that with such glee

  Beholds our queen, and so enamour'd glows

  Of her high beauty, that all fire he seems."

  So I again resorted to the lore

  Of my wise teacher, he, whom Mary's charms

  Embellish'd, as the sun the morning star;

  Who thus in answer spake: "In him are summ'd,

  Whatever of buxomness and free delight

  May be in Spirit, or in angel, met:

  And so beseems: for that he bare the palm

  Down unto Mary, when the Son of God

  Vouchsaf'd to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.

  Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words,

  And note thou of this just and pious realm

  The chiefest nobles. Those, highest in bliss,

  The twain, on each hand next our empress thron'd,

  Are as it were two roots unto this rose.

  He to the left, the parent, whose rash taste

  Proves bitter to his seed; and, on the right,

  That ancient father of the holy church,

  Into whose keeping Christ did give the keys

  Of this sweet flow'r: near whom behold the seer,

  That, ere he died, saw all the grievous times

  Of the fair bride, who with the lance and nails

  Was won. And, near unto the other, rests

  The leader, under whom on manna fed

  Th' ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.

  On th' other part, facing to Peter, lo!

  Where Anna sits, so well content to look

  On her lov'd daughter, that with moveless eye

  She chants the loud hosanna: while, oppos'd

  To the first father of your mortal kind,

  Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped,

  When on the edge of ruin clos'd thine eye.

  "But (for the vision hasteneth so an end)

  Here break we off, as the good workman doth,

  That shapes the cloak according to the cloth:

  And to the primal love our ken shall rise;

  That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, far

  As sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in sooth

  Beating thy pennons, thinking to advance,

  Thou backward fall'st. Grace then must first be gain'd;

  Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayer

  Seek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue,

  Attend, and yield me all thy heart." He said,

  And thus the saintly orison began.

  CANTO XXXIII

  "O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son,

  Created beings all in lowliness

  Surpassing, as in height, above them all,

  Term by th' eternal counsel pre-ordain'd,

  Ennobler of thy nature, so advanc'd