CANTO XIVFrom centre to the circle, and so backFrom circle to the centre, water movesIn the round chalice, even as the blowImpels it, inwardly, or from without.Such was the image glanc’d into my mind,As the great spirit of Aquinum ceas’d;And Beatrice after him her wordsResum’d alternate: “Need there is (tho’ yetHe tells it to you not in words, nor e’enIn thought) that he should fathom to its depthAnother mystery. Tell him, if the light,Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with youEternally, as now: and, if it doth,How, when ye shall regain your visible forms,The sight may without harm endure the change,That also tell.” As those, who in a ringTread the light measure, in their fitful mirthRaise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound;Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit,The saintly circles in their tourneyingAnd wond’rous note attested new delight.Whoso laments, that we must doff this garbOf frail mortality, thenceforth to liveImmortally above, he hath not seenThe sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.Him, who lives ever, and for ever reignsIn mystic union of the Three in One,Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thriceSang, with such melody, as but to hearFor highest merit were an ample meed.And from the lesser orb the goodliest light,With gentle voice and mild, such as perhapsThe angel’s once to Mary, thus replied:“Long as the joy of Paradise shall last,Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright,As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest;And that as far in blessedness exceeding,As it hath grave beyond its virtue great.Our shape, regarmented with glorious weedsOf saintly flesh, must, being thus entire,Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase,Whate’er of light, gratuitous, impartsThe Supreme Good; light, ministering aid,The better disclose his glory: whenceThe vision needs increasing, much increaseThe fervour, which it kindles; and that tooThe ray, that comes from it. But as the greedWhich gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shinesMore lively than that, and so preservesIts proper semblance; thus this circling sphereOf splendour, shall to view less radiant seem,Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earthNow covers. Nor will such excess of lightO’erpower us, in corporeal organs madeFirm, and susceptible of all delight.”So ready and so cordial an “Amen,”Followed from either choir, as plainly spokeDesire of their dead bodies; yet perchanceNot for themselves, but for their kindred dear,Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov’d,Ere they were made imperishable flame.And lo! forthwith there rose up round aboutA lustre over that already there,Of equal clearness, like the brightening upOf the horizon. As at an evening hourOf twilight, new appearances through heav’nPeer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried;So there new substances, methought beganTo rise in view; and round the other twainEnwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.O gentle glitter of eternal beam!With what a such whiteness did it flow,O’erpowering vision in me! But so fair,So passing lovely, Beatrice show’d,Mind cannot follow it, nor words expressHer infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain’dPower to look up, and I beheld myself,Sole with my lady, to more lofty blissTranslated: for the star, with warmer smileImpurpled, well denoted our ascent.With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaksThe same in all, an holocaust I madeTo God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf’d.And from my bosom had not yet upsteam’dThe fuming of that incense, when I knewThe rite accepted. With such mighty sheenAnd mantling crimson, in two listed raysThe splendours shot before me, that I cried,“God of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!”As leads the galaxy from pole to pole,Distinguish’d into greater lights and less,Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,Those rays describ’d the venerable sign,That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.Here memory mocks the toil of genius. ChristBeam’d on that cross; and pattern fails me now.But whoso takes his cross, and follows ChristWill pardon me for that I leave untold,When in the flecker’d dawning he shall spyThe glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn,And ’tween the summit and the base did moveLights, scintillating, as they met and pass’d.Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance,Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow,The atomies of bodies, long or short,To move along the sunbeam, whose slant lineCheckers the shadow, interpos’d by artAgainst the noontide heat. And as the chimeOf minstrel music, dulcimer, and helpWith many strings, a pleasant dining makesTo him, who heareth not distinct the note;So from the lights, which there appear’d to me,Gather’d along the cross a melody,That, indistinctly heard, with ravishmentPossess’d me. Yet I mark’d it was a hymnOf lofty praises; for there came to me“Arise and conquer,” as to one who hearsAnd comprehends not. Me such ecstasyO’ercame, that never till that hour was thingThat held me in so sweet imprisonment.Perhaps my saying over bold appears,Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes,Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.But he, who is aware those living sealsOf every beauty work with quicker force,The higher they are ris’n; and that thereI had not turn’d me to them; he may wellExcuse me that, whereof in my excuseI do accuse me, and may own my truth;That holy pleasure here not yet reveal’d,Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.
From centre to the circle, and so backFrom circle to the centre, water movesIn the round chalice, even as the blowImpels it, inwardly, or from without.Such was the image glanc’d into my mind,As the great spirit of Aquinum ceas’d;And Beatrice after him her wordsResum’d alternate: “Need there is (tho’ yetHe tells it to you not in words, nor e’enIn thought) that he should fathom to its depthAnother mystery. Tell him, if the light,Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with youEternally, as now: and, if it doth,How, when ye shall regain your visible forms,The sight may without harm endure the change,That also tell.” As those, who in a ringTread the light measure, in their fitful mirthRaise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound;Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit,The saintly circles in their tourneyingAnd wond’rous note attested new delight.
Whoso laments, that we must doff this garbOf frail mortality, thenceforth to liveImmortally above, he hath not seenThe sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.
Him, who lives ever, and for ever reignsIn mystic union of the Three in One,Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thriceSang, with such melody, as but to hearFor highest merit were an ample meed.And from the lesser orb the goodliest light,With gentle voice and mild, such as perhapsThe angel’s once to Mary, thus replied:“Long as the joy of Paradise shall last,Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright,As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest;And that as far in blessedness exceeding,As it hath grave beyond its virtue great.Our shape, regarmented with glorious weedsOf saintly flesh, must, being thus entire,Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase,Whate’er of light, gratuitous, impartsThe Supreme Good; light, ministering aid,The better disclose his glory: whenceThe vision needs increasing, much increaseThe fervour, which it kindles; and that tooThe ray, that comes from it. But as the greedWhich gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shinesMore lively than that, and so preservesIts proper semblance; thus this circling sphereOf splendour, shall to view less radiant seem,Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earthNow covers. Nor will such excess of lightO’erpower us, in corporeal organs madeFirm, and susceptible of all delight.”
So ready and so cordial an “Amen,”Followed from either choir, as plainly spokeDesire of their dead bodies; yet perchanceNot for themselves, but for their kindred dear,Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov’d,Ere they were made imperishable flame.
And lo! forthwith there rose up round aboutA lustre over that already there,Of equal clearness, like the brightening upOf the horizon. As at an evening hourOf twilight, new appearances through heav’nPeer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried;So there new substances, methought beganTo rise in view; and round the other twainEnwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.
O gentle glitter of eternal beam!With what a such whiteness did it flow,O’erpowering vision in me! But so fair,So passing lovely, Beatrice show’d,Mind cannot follow it, nor words expressHer infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain’dPower to look up, and I beheld myself,Sole with my lady, to more lofty blissTranslated: for the star, with warmer smileImpurpled, well denoted our ascent.
With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaksThe same in all, an holocaust I madeTo God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf’d.And from my bosom had not yet upsteam’dThe fuming of that incense, when I knewThe rite accepted. With such mighty sheenAnd mantling crimson, in two listed raysThe splendours shot before me, that I cried,“God of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!”
As leads the galaxy from pole to pole,Distinguish’d into greater lights and less,Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,Those rays describ’d the venerable sign,That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.Here memory mocks the toil of genius. ChristBeam’d on that cross; and pattern fails me now.But whoso takes his cross, and follows ChristWill pardon me for that I leave untold,When in the flecker’d dawning he shall spyThe glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn,And ’tween the summit and the base did moveLights, scintillating, as they met and pass’d.Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance,Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow,The atomies of bodies, long or short,To move along the sunbeam, whose slant lineCheckers the shadow, interpos’d by artAgainst the noontide heat. And as the chimeOf minstrel music, dulcimer, and helpWith many strings, a pleasant dining makesTo him, who heareth not distinct the note;So from the lights, which there appear’d to me,Gather’d along the cross a melody,That, indistinctly heard, with ravishmentPossess’d me. Yet I mark’d it was a hymnOf lofty praises; for there came to me“Arise and conquer,” as to one who hearsAnd comprehends not. Me such ecstasyO’ercame, that never till that hour was thingThat held me in so sweet imprisonment.
Perhaps my saying over bold appears,Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes,Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.But he, who is aware those living sealsOf every beauty work with quicker force,The higher they are ris’n; and that thereI had not turn’d me to them; he may wellExcuse me that, whereof in my excuseI do accuse me, and may own my truth;That holy pleasure here not yet reveal’d,Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.