THE glory of Him who moveth everything Doth penetrate the universe, and shine In one part more and in another less. Within that heaven which most his light receives Was I, and things beheld which to repeat
Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends; Because in drawing near to its desire Our intellect ingulphs itself so far, That after it the memory cannot go. Truly whatever of the holy realm
I had the power to treasure in my mind Shall now become the subject of my song.
O good Apollo, for this last emprise Make of me such a vessel of thy power
As giving the beloved laurel asks!
One summit of Parnassus hitherto
Has been enough for me, but now with both I needs must enter the arena left.
Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe
As at the time when Marsyas thou didst draw Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his. O power divine, lend'st thou thyself to me So that the shadow of the blessed realm Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,
Thou'lt see me come unto thy darling tree,
And crown myself thereafter with those leaves
Of which the theme and thou shall make me worthy.
So seldom, Father, do we gather them
For triumph or of Cæsar or of Poet,
(The fault and shame of human inclinations,)
That the Peneian foliage should bring forth Joy to the joyous Delphic deity,
When any one it makes to thirst for it. A little spark is followed by great flame; Perchance with better voices after me
Shall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond! To mortal men by passages diverse
Uprises the world's lamp; but by that one Which circles four uniteth with three crosses, With better course and with a better star Conjoined it issues, and the mundane wax Tempers and stamps more after its own fashion. Almost that passage had made morning there
And evening here, and there was wholly white That hemisphere, and black the other part, When Beatrice towards the left-hand side
I saw turned round, and gazing at the sun; Never did eagle fasten so upon it!
And even as a second ray is wont To issue from the first and reascend, Like to a pilgrim who would fain return,
Thus of her action, through the eyes infused
In my imagination, mine I made,
And sunward fixed mine eyes beyond our wont.
There much is lawful which is here unlawful
Unto our powers, by virtue of the place Made for the human species as its own.
Not long I bore it, nor so little while But I beheld it sparkle round about
Like iron that comes molten from the fire;
And suddenly it seemed that day to day Was added, as if He who has the power Had with another sun the heaven adorned. With eyes upon the everlasting wheels Stood Beatrice all intent, and I, on her Fixing my vision from above removed, Such at her aspect inwardly became
As Glaucus, tasting of the herb that made him Peer of the other gods beneath the sea. To represent transhumanize in words Impossible were; the example, then, suffice Him for whom Grace the experience reserves. If I was merely what of me thou newly
Createdst, Love who governest the heaven, Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light! When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternal Desiring thee, made me attentive to it
By harmony thou dost modulate and measure, Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindled
By the sun's flame, that neither rain nor river E'er made a lake so widely spread abroad. The newness of the sound and the great light Kindled in me a longing for their cause, Never before with such acuteness felt; Whence she, who saw me as I saw myself, To quiet in me my perturbed mind, Opened her mouth, ere I did mine to ask,
And she began: "Thou makest thyself so dull With false imagining, that thou seest not
What thou wouldst see if thou hadst shaken it off.
Thou art not upon earth, as thou believest;
But lightning, fleeing its appropriate site,
Ne'er ran as thou, who thitherward returnest."
If of my former doubt I was divested
By these brief little words more smiled than spoken, I in a new one was the more ensnared;
And said: "Already did I rest content
From great amazement; but am now amazed In what way I transcend these bodies light." Whereupon she, after a pitying sigh,
Her eyes directed tow'rds me with that look A mother casts on a delirious child; And she began: "All things whate'er they be Have order among themselves, and this is form, That makes the universe resemble God. Here do the higher creatures see the footprints Of the Eternal Power, which is the end Whereto is made the law already mentioned. In the order that I speak of are inclined All natures, by their destinies diverse, More or less near unto their origin; Hence they move onward unto ports diverse O'er the great sea of being; and each one With instinct given it which bears it on. This bears away the fire towards the moon; This is in mortal hearts the motive power; This binds together and unites the earth. Nor only the created things that are
Without intelligence this bow shoots forth, But those that have both intellect and love.
Which aims its arrows at a joyous mark. True is it, that as oftentimes the form Accords not with the intention of the art, Because in answering is matter deaf,
So likewise from this course doth deviate
Sometimes the creature, who the power possesses, Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,
(In the same wise as one may see the fire Fall from a cloud,) if the first impetus Earthward is wrested by some false delight.
Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge,
At thine ascent, than at a rivulet
From some high mount descending to the lowland.
Marvel it would be in thee, if deprived
Of hindrance, thou wert seated down below, As if on earth the living fire were quiet.” Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.
YE, who in some pretty little boat, Eager to listen, have been following
Behind my ship, that singing sails along, Turn back to look again upon your shores; Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure, In losing me, you might yourselves be lost. The sea I sail has never yet been passed; Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo, And Muses nine point out to me the Bears.
Ye other few who have the neck uplifted Betimes to th' bread of Angels upon which One liveth here and grows not sated by it, Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea
Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you Upon the water that grows smooth again. Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be, When Jason they beheld a ploughman made! The con-created and perpetual thirst For the realm deiform did bear us on, As swift almost as ye the heavens behold.
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