Paradiso: Canto XXIIIEven as a bird, ’mid the beloved leaves,Quiet upon the nest of her sweet broodThroughout the night, that hideth all things from us,Who, that she may behold their longed-for looksAnd find the food wherewith to nourish them,In which, to her, grave labours grateful are,Anticipates the time on open sprayAnd with an ardent longing waits the sun,Gazing intent as soon as breaks the dawn:Even thus my Lady standing was, erectAnd vigilant, turned round towards the zoneUnderneath which the sun displays less haste;So that beholding her distraught and wistful,Such I became as he is who desiringFor something yearns, and hoping is appeased.But brief the space from one When to the other;Of my awaiting, say I, and the seeingThe welkin grow resplendent more and more.And Beatrice exclaimed: “Behold the hostsOf Christ’s triumphal march, and all the fruitHarvested by the rolling of these spheres!”It seemed to me her face was all aflame;And eyes she had so full of ecstasyThat I must needs pass on without describing.As when in nights serene of the full moonSmiles Trivia among the nymphs eternalWho paint the firmament through all its gulfs,Saw I, above the myriads of lamps,A Sun that one and all of them enkindled,E’en as our own doth the supernal sights,And through the living light transparent shoneThe lucent substance so intensely clearInto my sight, that I sustained it not.O Beatrice, thou gentle guide and dear!To me she said: “What overmasters theeA virtue is from which naught shields itself.There are the wisdom and the omnipotenceThat oped the thoroughfares ’twixt heaven and earth,For which there erst had been so long a yearning.”As fire from out a cloud unlocks itself,Dilating so it finds not room therein,And down, against its nature, falls to earth,So did my mind, among those alimentsBecoming larger, issue from itself,And that which it became cannot remember.“Open thine eyes, and look at what I am:Thou hast beheld such things, that strong enoughHast thou become to tolerate my smile.”I was as one who still retains the feelingOf a forgotten vision, and endeavoursIn vain to bring it back into his mind,When I this invitation heard, deservingOf so much gratitude, it never fadesOut of the book that chronicles the past.If at this moment sounded all the tonguesThat Polyhymnia and her sisters madeMost lubrical with their delicious milk,To aid me, to a thousandth of the truthIt would not reach, singing the holy smileAnd how the holy aspect it illumed.And therefore, representing Paradise,The sacred poem must perforce leap over,Even as a man who finds his way cut off;But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme,And of the mortal shoulder laden with it,Should blame it not, if under this it tremble.It is no passage for a little boatThis which goes cleaving the audacious prow,Nor for a pilot who would spare himself.“Why doth my face so much enamour thee,That to the garden fair thou turnest not,Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?There is the Rose in which the Word DivineBecame incarnate; there the lilies areBy whose perfume the good way was discovered.”Thus Beatrice; and I, who to her counselsWas wholly ready, once again betook meUnto the battle of the feeble brows.As in the sunshine, that unsullied streamsThrough fractured cloud, ere now a meadow of flowersMine eyes with shadow covered o’er have seen,So troops of splendours manifold I sawIllumined from above with burning rays,Beholding not the source of the effulgence.O power benignant that dost so imprint them!Thou didst exalt thyself to give more scopeThere to mine eyes, that were not strong enough.The name of that fair flower I e’er invokeMorning and evening utterly enthralledMy soul to gaze upon the greater fire.And when in both mine eyes depicted wereThe glory and greatness of the living starWhich there excelleth, as it here excelled,Athwart the heavens a little torch descendedFormed in a circle like a coronal,And cinctured it, and whirled itself about it.Whatever melody most sweetly soundethOn earth, and to itself most draws the soul,Would seem a cloud that, rent asunder, thunders,Compared unto the sounding of that lyreWherewith was crowned the sapphire beautiful,Which gives the clearest heaven its sapphire hue.“I am Angelic Love, that circle roundThe joy sublime which breathes from out the wombThat was the hostelry of our Desire;And I shall circle, Lady of Heaven, whileThou followest thy Son, and mak’st divinerThe sphere supreme, because thou enterest there.”Thus did the circulated melodySeal itself up; and all the other lightsWere making to resound the name of Mary.The regal mantle of the volumes allOf that world, which most fervid is and livingWith breath of God and with his works and ways,Extended over us its inner border,So very distant, that the semblance of itThere where I was not yet appeared to me.Therefore mine eyes did not possess the powerOf following the incoronated flame,Which mounted upward near to its own seed.And as a little child, that towards its motherStretches its arms, when it the milk has taken,Through impulse kindled into outward flame,Each of those gleams of whiteness upward reachedSo with its summit, that the deep affectionThey had for Mary was revealed to me.Thereafter they remained there in my sight,‘Regina coeli’ singing with such sweetness,That ne’er from me has the delight departed.O, what exuberance is garnered upWithin those richest coffers, which had beenGood husbandmen for sowing here below!There they enjoy and live upon the treasureWhich was acquired while weeping in the exileOf Babylon, wherein the gold was left.There triumpheth, beneath the exalted SonOf God and Mary, in his victory,Both with the ancient council and the new,He who doth keep the keys of such a glory.
Even as a bird, ’mid the beloved leaves,Quiet upon the nest of her sweet broodThroughout the night, that hideth all things from us,
Who, that she may behold their longed-for looksAnd find the food wherewith to nourish them,In which, to her, grave labours grateful are,
Anticipates the time on open sprayAnd with an ardent longing waits the sun,Gazing intent as soon as breaks the dawn:
Even thus my Lady standing was, erectAnd vigilant, turned round towards the zoneUnderneath which the sun displays less haste;
So that beholding her distraught and wistful,Such I became as he is who desiringFor something yearns, and hoping is appeased.
But brief the space from one When to the other;Of my awaiting, say I, and the seeingThe welkin grow resplendent more and more.
And Beatrice exclaimed: “Behold the hostsOf Christ’s triumphal march, and all the fruitHarvested by the rolling of these spheres!”
It seemed to me her face was all aflame;And eyes she had so full of ecstasyThat I must needs pass on without describing.
As when in nights serene of the full moonSmiles Trivia among the nymphs eternalWho paint the firmament through all its gulfs,
Saw I, above the myriads of lamps,A Sun that one and all of them enkindled,E’en as our own doth the supernal sights,
And through the living light transparent shoneThe lucent substance so intensely clearInto my sight, that I sustained it not.
O Beatrice, thou gentle guide and dear!To me she said: “What overmasters theeA virtue is from which naught shields itself.
There are the wisdom and the omnipotenceThat oped the thoroughfares ’twixt heaven and earth,For which there erst had been so long a yearning.”
As fire from out a cloud unlocks itself,Dilating so it finds not room therein,And down, against its nature, falls to earth,
So did my mind, among those alimentsBecoming larger, issue from itself,And that which it became cannot remember.
“Open thine eyes, and look at what I am:Thou hast beheld such things, that strong enoughHast thou become to tolerate my smile.”
I was as one who still retains the feelingOf a forgotten vision, and endeavoursIn vain to bring it back into his mind,
When I this invitation heard, deservingOf so much gratitude, it never fadesOut of the book that chronicles the past.
If at this moment sounded all the tonguesThat Polyhymnia and her sisters madeMost lubrical with their delicious milk,
To aid me, to a thousandth of the truthIt would not reach, singing the holy smileAnd how the holy aspect it illumed.
And therefore, representing Paradise,The sacred poem must perforce leap over,Even as a man who finds his way cut off;
But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme,And of the mortal shoulder laden with it,Should blame it not, if under this it tremble.
It is no passage for a little boatThis which goes cleaving the audacious prow,Nor for a pilot who would spare himself.
“Why doth my face so much enamour thee,That to the garden fair thou turnest not,Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?
There is the Rose in which the Word DivineBecame incarnate; there the lilies areBy whose perfume the good way was discovered.”
Thus Beatrice; and I, who to her counselsWas wholly ready, once again betook meUnto the battle of the feeble brows.
As in the sunshine, that unsullied streamsThrough fractured cloud, ere now a meadow of flowersMine eyes with shadow covered o’er have seen,
So troops of splendours manifold I sawIllumined from above with burning rays,Beholding not the source of the effulgence.
O power benignant that dost so imprint them!Thou didst exalt thyself to give more scopeThere to mine eyes, that were not strong enough.
The name of that fair flower I e’er invokeMorning and evening utterly enthralledMy soul to gaze upon the greater fire.
And when in both mine eyes depicted wereThe glory and greatness of the living starWhich there excelleth, as it here excelled,
Athwart the heavens a little torch descendedFormed in a circle like a coronal,And cinctured it, and whirled itself about it.
Whatever melody most sweetly soundethOn earth, and to itself most draws the soul,Would seem a cloud that, rent asunder, thunders,
Compared unto the sounding of that lyreWherewith was crowned the sapphire beautiful,Which gives the clearest heaven its sapphire hue.
“I am Angelic Love, that circle roundThe joy sublime which breathes from out the wombThat was the hostelry of our Desire;
And I shall circle, Lady of Heaven, whileThou followest thy Son, and mak’st divinerThe sphere supreme, because thou enterest there.”
Thus did the circulated melodySeal itself up; and all the other lightsWere making to resound the name of Mary.
The regal mantle of the volumes allOf that world, which most fervid is and livingWith breath of God and with his works and ways,
Extended over us its inner border,So very distant, that the semblance of itThere where I was not yet appeared to me.
Therefore mine eyes did not possess the powerOf following the incoronated flame,Which mounted upward near to its own seed.
And as a little child, that towards its motherStretches its arms, when it the milk has taken,Through impulse kindled into outward flame,
Each of those gleams of whiteness upward reachedSo with its summit, that the deep affectionThey had for Mary was revealed to me.
Thereafter they remained there in my sight,‘Regina coeli’ singing with such sweetness,That ne’er from me has the delight departed.
O, what exuberance is garnered upWithin those richest coffers, which had beenGood husbandmen for sowing here below!
There they enjoy and live upon the treasureWhich was acquired while weeping in the exileOf Babylon, wherein the gold was left.
There triumpheth, beneath the exalted SonOf God and Mary, in his victory,Both with the ancient council and the new,
He who doth keep the keys of such a glory.