CANTO XXVIIISo she who doth imparadise my soul,Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life,And bar’d the truth of poor mortality;When lo! as one who, in a mirror, spiesThe shining of a flambeau at his back,Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach,And turneth to resolve him, if the glassHave told him true, and sees the record faithfulAs note is to its metre; even thus,I well remember, did befall to me,Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence loveHad made the leash to take me. As I turn’d;And that, which, in their circles, none who spies,Can miss of, in itself apparent, struckOn mine; a point I saw, that darted lightSo sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear upAgainst its keenness. The least star we viewFrom hence, had seem’d a moon, set by its side,As star by side of star. And so far off,Perchance, as is the halo from the lightWhich paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads,There wheel’d about the point a circle of fire,More rapid than the motion, which first girdsThe world. Then, circle after circle, roundEnring’d each other; till the seventh reach’dCircumference so ample, that its bow,Within the span of Juno’s messenger,lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev’nth,Follow’d yet other two. And every one,As more in number distant from the first,Was tardier in motion; and that glow’dWith flame most pure, that to the sparkle’ of truthWas nearest, as partaking most, methinks,Of its reality. The guide belov’dSaw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake:“Heav’n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.The circle thereto most conjoin’d observe;And know, that by intenser love its courseIs to this swiftness wing’d. “To whom I thus:“It were enough; nor should I further seek,Had I but witness’d order, in the worldAppointed, such as in these wheels is seen.But in the sensible world such diff’rence is,That is each round shows more divinity,As each is wider from the centre. Hence,If in this wondrous and angelic temple,That hath for confine only light and love,My wish may have completion I must know,Wherefore such disagreement is betweenTh’ exemplar and its copy: for myself,Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause.”“It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil’dDo leave the knot untied: so hard ’tis grownFor want of tenting.” Thus she said: “But take,”She added, “if thou wish thy cure, my words,And entertain them subtly. Every orbCorporeal, doth proportion its extentUnto the virtue through its parts diffus’d.The greater blessedness preserves the more.The greater is the body (if all partsShare equally) the more is to preserve.Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheelsThe universal frame answers to that,Which is supreme in knowledge and in loveThus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadthOf substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav’ns,Each to the’ intelligence that ruleth it,Greater to more, and smaller unto less,Suited in strict and wondrous harmony.”As when the sturdy north blows from his cheekA blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,Clear’d of the rack, that hung on it before,Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil’d,The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles;Such was my cheer, when Beatrice droveWith clear reply the shadows back, and truthWas manifested, as a star in heaven.And when the words were ended, not unlikeTo iron in the furnace, every cirqueEbullient shot forth scintillating fires:And every sparkle shivering to new blaze,In number did outmillion the accountReduplicate upon the chequer’d board.Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir,“Hosanna,” to the fixed point, that holds,And shall for ever hold them to their place,From everlasting, irremovable.Musing awhile I stood: and she, who sawby inward meditations, thus began:“In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst,Are seraphim and cherubim. Thus swiftFollow their hoops, in likeness to the point,Near as they can, approaching; and they canThe more, the loftier their vision. Those,That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And allAre blessed, even as their sight descendsDeeper into the truth, wherein rest isFor every mind. Thus happiness hath rootIn seeing, not in loving, which of sightIs aftergrowth. And of the seeing suchThe meed, as unto each in due degreeGrace and good-will their measure have assign’d.The other trine, that with still opening budsIn this eternal springtide blossom fair,Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram,Breathe up in warbled melodies threefoldHosannas blending ever, from the threeTransmitted. hierarchy of gods, for ayeRejoicing, dominations first, next thenVirtues, and powers the third. The next to whomAre princedoms and archangels, with glad roundTo tread their festal ring; and last the bandAngelical, disporting in their sphere.All, as they circle in their orders, lookAloft, and downward with such sway prevail,That all with mutual impulse tend to God.These once a mortal view beheld. DesireIn Dionysius so intently wrought,That he, as I have done rang’d them; and nam’dTheir orders, marshal’d in his thought. From himDissentient, one refus’d his sacred read.But soon as in this heav’n his doubting eyesWere open’d, Gregory at his error smil’dNor marvel, that a denizen of earthShould scan such secret truth; for he had learntBoth this and much beside of these our orbs,From an eye-witness to heav’n’s mysteries.”
So she who doth imparadise my soul,Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life,And bar’d the truth of poor mortality;When lo! as one who, in a mirror, spiesThe shining of a flambeau at his back,Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach,And turneth to resolve him, if the glassHave told him true, and sees the record faithfulAs note is to its metre; even thus,I well remember, did befall to me,Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence loveHad made the leash to take me. As I turn’d;And that, which, in their circles, none who spies,Can miss of, in itself apparent, struckOn mine; a point I saw, that darted lightSo sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear upAgainst its keenness. The least star we viewFrom hence, had seem’d a moon, set by its side,As star by side of star. And so far off,Perchance, as is the halo from the lightWhich paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads,There wheel’d about the point a circle of fire,More rapid than the motion, which first girdsThe world. Then, circle after circle, roundEnring’d each other; till the seventh reach’dCircumference so ample, that its bow,Within the span of Juno’s messenger,lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev’nth,Follow’d yet other two. And every one,As more in number distant from the first,Was tardier in motion; and that glow’dWith flame most pure, that to the sparkle’ of truthWas nearest, as partaking most, methinks,Of its reality. The guide belov’dSaw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake:“Heav’n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.The circle thereto most conjoin’d observe;And know, that by intenser love its courseIs to this swiftness wing’d. “To whom I thus:“It were enough; nor should I further seek,Had I but witness’d order, in the worldAppointed, such as in these wheels is seen.But in the sensible world such diff’rence is,That is each round shows more divinity,As each is wider from the centre. Hence,If in this wondrous and angelic temple,That hath for confine only light and love,My wish may have completion I must know,Wherefore such disagreement is betweenTh’ exemplar and its copy: for myself,Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause.”
“It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil’dDo leave the knot untied: so hard ’tis grownFor want of tenting.” Thus she said: “But take,”She added, “if thou wish thy cure, my words,And entertain them subtly. Every orbCorporeal, doth proportion its extentUnto the virtue through its parts diffus’d.The greater blessedness preserves the more.The greater is the body (if all partsShare equally) the more is to preserve.Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheelsThe universal frame answers to that,Which is supreme in knowledge and in loveThus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadthOf substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav’ns,Each to the’ intelligence that ruleth it,Greater to more, and smaller unto less,Suited in strict and wondrous harmony.”
As when the sturdy north blows from his cheekA blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,Clear’d of the rack, that hung on it before,Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil’d,The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles;Such was my cheer, when Beatrice droveWith clear reply the shadows back, and truthWas manifested, as a star in heaven.And when the words were ended, not unlikeTo iron in the furnace, every cirqueEbullient shot forth scintillating fires:And every sparkle shivering to new blaze,In number did outmillion the accountReduplicate upon the chequer’d board.Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir,“Hosanna,” to the fixed point, that holds,And shall for ever hold them to their place,From everlasting, irremovable.
Musing awhile I stood: and she, who sawby inward meditations, thus began:“In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst,Are seraphim and cherubim. Thus swiftFollow their hoops, in likeness to the point,Near as they can, approaching; and they canThe more, the loftier their vision. Those,That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And allAre blessed, even as their sight descendsDeeper into the truth, wherein rest isFor every mind. Thus happiness hath rootIn seeing, not in loving, which of sightIs aftergrowth. And of the seeing suchThe meed, as unto each in due degreeGrace and good-will their measure have assign’d.The other trine, that with still opening budsIn this eternal springtide blossom fair,Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram,Breathe up in warbled melodies threefoldHosannas blending ever, from the threeTransmitted. hierarchy of gods, for ayeRejoicing, dominations first, next thenVirtues, and powers the third. The next to whomAre princedoms and archangels, with glad roundTo tread their festal ring; and last the bandAngelical, disporting in their sphere.All, as they circle in their orders, lookAloft, and downward with such sway prevail,That all with mutual impulse tend to God.These once a mortal view beheld. DesireIn Dionysius so intently wrought,That he, as I have done rang’d them; and nam’dTheir orders, marshal’d in his thought. From himDissentient, one refus’d his sacred read.But soon as in this heav’n his doubting eyesWere open’d, Gregory at his error smil’dNor marvel, that a denizen of earthShould scan such secret truth; for he had learntBoth this and much beside of these our orbs,From an eye-witness to heav’n’s mysteries.”