CANTO XXXIIMine eyes with such an eager coveting,Were bent to rid them of their ten years’ thirst,No other sense was waking: and e’en theyWere fenc’d on either side from heed of aught;So tangled in its custom’d toils that smileOf saintly brightness drew me to itself,When forcibly toward the left my sightThe sacred virgins turn’d; for from their lipsI heard the warning sounds: “Too fix’d a gaze!”Awhile my vision labor’d; as when lateUpon the’ o’erstrained eyes the sun hath smote:But soon to lesser object, as the viewWas now recover’d (lesser in respectTo that excess of sensible, whence lateI had perforce been sunder’d) on their rightI mark’d that glorious army wheel, and turn,Against the sun and sev’nfold lights, their front.As when, their bucklers for protection rais’d,A well-rang’d troop, with portly banners curl’d,Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground:E’en thus the goodly regiment of heav’nProceeding, all did pass us, ere the carHad slop’d his beam. Attendant at the wheelsThe damsels turn’d; and on the Gryphon mov’dThe sacred burden, with a pace so smooth,No feather on him trembled. The fair dameWho through the wave had drawn me, companiedBy Statius and myself, pursued the wheel,Whose orbit, rolling, mark’d a lesser arch.Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame,Who by the serpent was beguil’d) I pastWith step in cadence to the harmonyAngelic. Onward had we mov’d, as farPerchance as arrow at three several flightsFull wing’d had sped, when from her station downDescended Beatrice. With one voiceAll murmur’d “Adam,” circling next a plantDespoil’d of flowers and leaf on every bough.Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose,Were such, as ’midst their forest wilds for heightThe Indians might have gaz’d at. “Blessed thou!Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck’d that treePleasant to taste: for hence the appetiteWas warp’d to evil.” Round the stately trunkThus shouted forth the rest, to whom return’dThe animal twice-gender’d: “Yea: for soThe generation of the just are sav’d.”And turning to the chariot-pole, to footHe drew it of the widow’d branch, and boundThere left unto the stock whereon it grew.As when large floods of radiance from aboveStream, with that radiance mingled, which ascendsNext after setting of the scaly sign,Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anewHis wonted colours, ere the sun have yok’dBeneath another star his flamy steeds;Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose,And deeper than the violet, was renew’dThe plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose.I understood it not, nor to the endEndur’d the harmony. Had I the skillTo pencil forth, how clos’d th’ unpitying eyesSlumb’ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paidSo dearly for their watching,) then like painter,That with a model paints, I might designThe manner of my falling into sleep.But feign who will the slumber cunningly;I pass it by to when I wak’d, and tellHow suddenly a flash of splendour rentThe curtain of my sleep, and one cries out:“Arise, what dost thou?” As the chosen three,On Tabor’s mount, admitted to beholdThe blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruitIs coveted of angels, and doth makePerpetual feast in heaven, to themselvesReturning at the word, whence deeper sleepsWere broken, that they their tribe diminish’d saw,Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang’dThe stole their master wore: thus to myselfReturning, over me beheld I standThe piteous one, who cross the stream had broughtMy steps. “And where,” all doubting, I exclaim’d,“Is Beatrice?”—“See her,” she replied,“Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root.Behold th’ associate choir that circles her.The others, with a melody more sweetAnd more profound, journeying to higher realms,Upon the Gryphon tend.” If there her wordsWere clos’d, I know not; but mine eyes had nowTa’en view of her, by whom all other thoughtsWere barr’d admittance. On the very groundAlone she sat, as she had there been leftA guard upon the wain, which I beheldBound to the twyform beast. The seven nymphsDid make themselves a cloister round about her,And in their hands upheld those lights secureFrom blast septentrion and the gusty south.“A little while thou shalt be forester here:And citizen shalt be forever with me,Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a RomanTo profit the misguided world, keep nowThine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest,Take heed thou write, returning to that place.”Thus Beatrice: at whose feet inclin’dDevout, at her behest, my thought and eyes,I, as she bade, directed. Never fire,With so swift motion, forth a stormy cloudLeap’d downward from the welkin’s farthest bound,As I beheld the bird of Jove descendingPounce on the tree, and, as he rush’d, the rind,Disparting crush beneath him, buds much moreAnd leaflets. On the car with all his mightHe struck, whence, staggering like a ship, it reel’d,At random driv’n, to starboard now, o’ercome,And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.Next springing up into the chariot’s wombA fox I saw, with hunger seeming pin’dOf all good food. But, for his ugly sinsThe saintly maid rebuking him, awayScamp’ring he turn’d, fast as his hide-bound corpseWould bear him. Next, from whence before he came,I saw the eagle dart into the hullO’ th’ car, and leave it with his feathers lin’d;And then a voice, like that which issues forthFrom heart with sorrow riv’d, did issue forthFrom heav’n, and, “O poor bark of mine!” it cried,“How badly art thou freighted!” Then, it seem’d,That the earth open’d between either wheel,And I beheld a dragon issue thence,That through the chariot fix’d his forked train;And like a wasp that draggeth back the sting,So drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg’dPart of the bottom forth, and went his wayExulting. What remain’d, as lively turfWith green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes,Which haply had with purpose chaste and kindBeen offer’d; and therewith were cloth’d the wheels,Both one and other, and the beam, so quicklyA sigh were not breath’d sooner. Thus transform’d,The holy structure, through its several parts,Did put forth heads, three on the beam, and oneOn every side; the first like oxen horn’d,But with a single horn upon their frontThe four. Like monster sight hath never seen.O’er it methought there sat, secure as rockOn mountain’s lofty top, a shameless whore,Whose ken rov’d loosely round her. At her side,As ’twere that none might bear her off, I sawA giant stand; and ever, and anonThey mingled kisses. But, her lustful eyesChancing on me to wander, that fell minionScourg’d her from head to foot all o’er; then fullOf jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloos’dThe monster, and dragg’d on, so far acrossThe forest, that from me its shades aloneShielded the harlot and the new-form’d brute.
Mine eyes with such an eager coveting,Were bent to rid them of their ten years’ thirst,No other sense was waking: and e’en theyWere fenc’d on either side from heed of aught;So tangled in its custom’d toils that smileOf saintly brightness drew me to itself,When forcibly toward the left my sightThe sacred virgins turn’d; for from their lipsI heard the warning sounds: “Too fix’d a gaze!”
Awhile my vision labor’d; as when lateUpon the’ o’erstrained eyes the sun hath smote:But soon to lesser object, as the viewWas now recover’d (lesser in respectTo that excess of sensible, whence lateI had perforce been sunder’d) on their rightI mark’d that glorious army wheel, and turn,Against the sun and sev’nfold lights, their front.As when, their bucklers for protection rais’d,A well-rang’d troop, with portly banners curl’d,Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground:E’en thus the goodly regiment of heav’nProceeding, all did pass us, ere the carHad slop’d his beam. Attendant at the wheelsThe damsels turn’d; and on the Gryphon mov’dThe sacred burden, with a pace so smooth,No feather on him trembled. The fair dameWho through the wave had drawn me, companiedBy Statius and myself, pursued the wheel,Whose orbit, rolling, mark’d a lesser arch.
Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame,Who by the serpent was beguil’d) I pastWith step in cadence to the harmonyAngelic. Onward had we mov’d, as farPerchance as arrow at three several flightsFull wing’d had sped, when from her station downDescended Beatrice. With one voiceAll murmur’d “Adam,” circling next a plantDespoil’d of flowers and leaf on every bough.Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose,Were such, as ’midst their forest wilds for heightThe Indians might have gaz’d at. “Blessed thou!Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck’d that treePleasant to taste: for hence the appetiteWas warp’d to evil.” Round the stately trunkThus shouted forth the rest, to whom return’dThe animal twice-gender’d: “Yea: for soThe generation of the just are sav’d.”And turning to the chariot-pole, to footHe drew it of the widow’d branch, and boundThere left unto the stock whereon it grew.
As when large floods of radiance from aboveStream, with that radiance mingled, which ascendsNext after setting of the scaly sign,Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anewHis wonted colours, ere the sun have yok’dBeneath another star his flamy steeds;Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose,And deeper than the violet, was renew’dThe plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.
Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose.I understood it not, nor to the endEndur’d the harmony. Had I the skillTo pencil forth, how clos’d th’ unpitying eyesSlumb’ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paidSo dearly for their watching,) then like painter,That with a model paints, I might designThe manner of my falling into sleep.But feign who will the slumber cunningly;I pass it by to when I wak’d, and tellHow suddenly a flash of splendour rentThe curtain of my sleep, and one cries out:“Arise, what dost thou?” As the chosen three,On Tabor’s mount, admitted to beholdThe blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruitIs coveted of angels, and doth makePerpetual feast in heaven, to themselvesReturning at the word, whence deeper sleepsWere broken, that they their tribe diminish’d saw,Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang’dThe stole their master wore: thus to myselfReturning, over me beheld I standThe piteous one, who cross the stream had broughtMy steps. “And where,” all doubting, I exclaim’d,“Is Beatrice?”—“See her,” she replied,“Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root.Behold th’ associate choir that circles her.The others, with a melody more sweetAnd more profound, journeying to higher realms,Upon the Gryphon tend.” If there her wordsWere clos’d, I know not; but mine eyes had nowTa’en view of her, by whom all other thoughtsWere barr’d admittance. On the very groundAlone she sat, as she had there been leftA guard upon the wain, which I beheldBound to the twyform beast. The seven nymphsDid make themselves a cloister round about her,And in their hands upheld those lights secureFrom blast septentrion and the gusty south.
“A little while thou shalt be forester here:And citizen shalt be forever with me,Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a RomanTo profit the misguided world, keep nowThine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest,Take heed thou write, returning to that place.”
Thus Beatrice: at whose feet inclin’dDevout, at her behest, my thought and eyes,I, as she bade, directed. Never fire,With so swift motion, forth a stormy cloudLeap’d downward from the welkin’s farthest bound,As I beheld the bird of Jove descendingPounce on the tree, and, as he rush’d, the rind,Disparting crush beneath him, buds much moreAnd leaflets. On the car with all his mightHe struck, whence, staggering like a ship, it reel’d,At random driv’n, to starboard now, o’ercome,And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.
Next springing up into the chariot’s wombA fox I saw, with hunger seeming pin’dOf all good food. But, for his ugly sinsThe saintly maid rebuking him, awayScamp’ring he turn’d, fast as his hide-bound corpseWould bear him. Next, from whence before he came,I saw the eagle dart into the hullO’ th’ car, and leave it with his feathers lin’d;And then a voice, like that which issues forthFrom heart with sorrow riv’d, did issue forthFrom heav’n, and, “O poor bark of mine!” it cried,“How badly art thou freighted!” Then, it seem’d,That the earth open’d between either wheel,And I beheld a dragon issue thence,That through the chariot fix’d his forked train;And like a wasp that draggeth back the sting,So drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg’dPart of the bottom forth, and went his wayExulting. What remain’d, as lively turfWith green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes,Which haply had with purpose chaste and kindBeen offer’d; and therewith were cloth’d the wheels,Both one and other, and the beam, so quicklyA sigh were not breath’d sooner. Thus transform’d,The holy structure, through its several parts,Did put forth heads, three on the beam, and oneOn every side; the first like oxen horn’d,But with a single horn upon their frontThe four. Like monster sight hath never seen.O’er it methought there sat, secure as rockOn mountain’s lofty top, a shameless whore,Whose ken rov’d loosely round her. At her side,As ’twere that none might bear her off, I sawA giant stand; and ever, and anonThey mingled kisses. But, her lustful eyesChancing on me to wander, that fell minionScourg’d her from head to foot all o’er; then fullOf jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloos’dThe monster, and dragg’d on, so far acrossThe forest, that from me its shades aloneShielded the harlot and the new-form’d brute.