Paradiso: Canto IThe glory of Him who moveth everythingDoth penetrate the universe, and shineIn one part more and in another less.Within that heaven which most his light receivesWas I, and things beheld which to repeatNor knows, nor can, who from above descends;Because in drawing near to its desireOur intellect ingulphs itself so far,That after it the memory cannot go.Truly whatever of the holy realmI had the power to treasure in my mindShall now become the subject of my song.O good Apollo, for this last empriseMake of me such a vessel of thy powerAs giving the beloved laurel asks!One summit of Parnassus hithertoHas been enough for me, but now with bothI needs must enter the arena left.Enter into my bosom, thou, and breatheAs at the time when Marsyas thou didst drawOut of the scabbard of those limbs of his.O power divine, lend’st thou thyself to meSo that the shadow of the blessed realmStamped in my brain I can make manifest,Thou’lt see me come unto thy darling tree,And crown myself thereafter with those leavesOf which the theme and thou shall make me worthy.So seldom, Father, do we gather themFor triumph or of Caesar or of Poet,(The fault and shame of human inclinations,)That the Peneian foliage should bring forthJoy 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 meShall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond!To mortal men by passages diverseUprises the world’s lamp; but by that oneWhich circles four uniteth with three crosses,With better course and with a better starConjoined it issues, and the mundane waxTempers and stamps more after its own fashion.Almost that passage had made morning thereAnd evening here, and there was wholly whiteThat hemisphere, and black the other part,When Beatrice towards the left-hand sideI saw turned round, and gazing at the sun;Never did eagle fasten so upon it!And even as a second ray is wontTo issue from the first and reascend,Like to a pilgrim who would fain return,Thus of her action, through the eyes infusedIn my imagination, mine I made,And sunward fixed mine eyes beyond our wont.There much is lawful which is here unlawfulUnto our powers, by virtue of the placeMade for the human species as its own.Not long I bore it, nor so little whileBut I beheld it sparkle round aboutLike iron that comes molten from the fire;And suddenly it seemed that day to dayWas added, as if He who has the powerHad with another sun the heaven adorned.With eyes upon the everlasting wheelsStood Beatrice all intent, and I, on herFixing my vision from above removed,Such at her aspect inwardly becameAs Glaucus, tasting of the herb that made himPeer of the other gods beneath the sea.To represent transhumanise in wordsImpossible were; the example, then, sufficeHim for whom Grace the experience reserves.If I was merely what of me thou newlyCreatedst, Love who governest the heaven,Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light!When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternalDesiring thee, made me attentive to itBy harmony thou dost modulate and measure,Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindledBy the sun’s flame, that neither rain nor riverE’er made a lake so widely spread abroad.The newness of the sound and the great lightKindled 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 dullWith false imagining, that thou seest notWhat 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 divestedBy these brief little words more smiled than spoken,I in a new one was the more ensnared;And said: “Already did I rest contentFrom great amazement; but am now amazedIn what way I transcend these bodies light.”Whereupon she, after a pitying sigh,Her eyes directed tow’rds me with that lookA mother casts on a delirious child;And she began: “All things whate’er they beHave order among themselves, and this is form,That makes the universe resemble God.Here do the higher creatures see the footprintsOf the Eternal Power, which is the endWhereto is made the law already mentioned.In the order that I speak of are inclinedAll natures, by their destinies diverse,More or less near unto their origin;Hence they move onward unto ports diverseO’er the great sea of being; and each oneWith instinct given it which bears it on.This bears away the fire towards the moon;This is in mortal hearts the motive powerThis binds together and unites the earth.Nor only the created things that areWithout intelligence this bow shoots forth,But those that have both intellect and love.The Providence that regulates all thisMakes with its light the heaven forever quiet,Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste.And thither now, as to a site decreed,Bears us away the virtue of that cordWhich aims its arrows at a joyous mark.True is it, that as oftentimes the formAccords not with the intention of the art,Because in answering is matter deaf,So likewise from this course doth deviateSometimes the creature, who the power possesses,Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,(In the same wise as one may see the fireFall from a cloud,) if the first impetusEarthward is wrested by some false delight.Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge,At thine ascent, than at a rivuletFrom some high mount descending to the lowland.Marvel it would be in thee, if deprivedOf hindrance, thou wert seated down below,As if on earth the living fire were quiet.”Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.
The glory of Him who moveth everythingDoth penetrate the universe, and shineIn one part more and in another less.
Within that heaven which most his light receivesWas I, and things beheld which to repeatNor knows, nor can, who from above descends;
Because in drawing near to its desireOur intellect ingulphs itself so far,That after it the memory cannot go.
Truly whatever of the holy realmI had the power to treasure in my mindShall now become the subject of my song.
O good Apollo, for this last empriseMake of me such a vessel of thy powerAs giving the beloved laurel asks!
One summit of Parnassus hithertoHas been enough for me, but now with bothI needs must enter the arena left.
Enter into my bosom, thou, and breatheAs at the time when Marsyas thou didst drawOut of the scabbard of those limbs of his.
O power divine, lend’st thou thyself to meSo that the shadow of the blessed realmStamped in my brain I can make manifest,
Thou’lt see me come unto thy darling tree,And crown myself thereafter with those leavesOf which the theme and thou shall make me worthy.
So seldom, Father, do we gather themFor triumph or of Caesar or of Poet,(The fault and shame of human inclinations,)
That the Peneian foliage should bring forthJoy 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 meShall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond!
To mortal men by passages diverseUprises the world’s lamp; but by that oneWhich circles four uniteth with three crosses,
With better course and with a better starConjoined it issues, and the mundane waxTempers and stamps more after its own fashion.
Almost that passage had made morning thereAnd evening here, and there was wholly whiteThat hemisphere, and black the other part,
When Beatrice towards the left-hand sideI saw turned round, and gazing at the sun;Never did eagle fasten so upon it!
And even as a second ray is wontTo issue from the first and reascend,Like to a pilgrim who would fain return,
Thus of her action, through the eyes infusedIn my imagination, mine I made,And sunward fixed mine eyes beyond our wont.
There much is lawful which is here unlawfulUnto our powers, by virtue of the placeMade for the human species as its own.
Not long I bore it, nor so little whileBut I beheld it sparkle round aboutLike iron that comes molten from the fire;
And suddenly it seemed that day to dayWas added, as if He who has the powerHad with another sun the heaven adorned.
With eyes upon the everlasting wheelsStood Beatrice all intent, and I, on herFixing my vision from above removed,
Such at her aspect inwardly becameAs Glaucus, tasting of the herb that made himPeer of the other gods beneath the sea.
To represent transhumanise in wordsImpossible were; the example, then, sufficeHim for whom Grace the experience reserves.
If I was merely what of me thou newlyCreatedst, Love who governest the heaven,Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light!
When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternalDesiring thee, made me attentive to itBy harmony thou dost modulate and measure,
Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindledBy the sun’s flame, that neither rain nor riverE’er made a lake so widely spread abroad.
The newness of the sound and the great lightKindled 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 dullWith false imagining, that thou seest notWhat 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 divestedBy these brief little words more smiled than spoken,I in a new one was the more ensnared;
And said: “Already did I rest contentFrom great amazement; but am now amazedIn what way I transcend these bodies light.”
Whereupon she, after a pitying sigh,Her eyes directed tow’rds me with that lookA mother casts on a delirious child;
And she began: “All things whate’er they beHave order among themselves, and this is form,That makes the universe resemble God.
Here do the higher creatures see the footprintsOf the Eternal Power, which is the endWhereto is made the law already mentioned.
In the order that I speak of are inclinedAll natures, by their destinies diverse,More or less near unto their origin;
Hence they move onward unto ports diverseO’er the great sea of being; and each oneWith instinct given it which bears it on.
This bears away the fire towards the moon;This is in mortal hearts the motive powerThis binds together and unites the earth.
Nor only the created things that areWithout intelligence this bow shoots forth,But those that have both intellect and love.
The Providence that regulates all thisMakes with its light the heaven forever quiet,Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste.
And thither now, as to a site decreed,Bears us away the virtue of that cordWhich aims its arrows at a joyous mark.
True is it, that as oftentimes the formAccords not with the intention of the art,Because in answering is matter deaf,
So likewise from this course doth deviateSometimes the creature, who the power possesses,Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,
(In the same wise as one may see the fireFall from a cloud,) if the first impetusEarthward is wrested by some false delight.
Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge,At thine ascent, than at a rivuletFrom some high mount descending to the lowland.
Marvel it would be in thee, if deprivedOf hindrance, thou wert seated down below,As if on earth the living fire were quiet.”
Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.