Paradiso: Canto XXX

Paradiso: Canto XXXPerchance six thousand miles remote from usIs glowing the sixth hour, and now this worldInclines its shadow almost to a level,When the mid-heaven begins to make itselfSo deep to us, that here and there a starCeases to shine so far down as this depth,And as advances bright exceedinglyThe handmaid of the sun, the heaven is closedLight after light to the most beautiful;Not otherwise the Triumph, which for everPlays round about the point that vanquished me,Seeming enclosed by what itself encloses,Little by little from my vision faded;Whereat to turn mine eyes on BeatriceMy seeing nothing and my love constrained me.If what has hitherto been said of herWere all concluded in a single praise,Scant would it be to serve the present turn.Not only does the beauty I beheldTranscend ourselves, but truly I believeIts Maker only may enjoy it all.Vanquished do I confess me by this passageMore than by problem of his theme was everO’ercome the comic or the tragic poet;For as the sun the sight that trembles most,Even so the memory of that sweet smileMy mind depriveth of its very self.From the first day that I beheld her faceIn this life, to the moment of this look,The sequence of my song has ne’er been severed;But now perforce this sequence must desistFrom following her beauty with my verse,As every artist at his uttermost.Such as I leave her to a greater fameThan any of my trumpet, which is bringingIts arduous matter to a final close,With voice and gesture of a perfect leaderShe recommenced: “We from the greatest bodyHave issued to the heaven that is pure light;Light intellectual replete with love,Love of true good replete with ecstasy,Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness.Here shalt thou see the one host and the otherOf Paradise, and one in the same aspectsWhich at the final judgment thou shalt see.”Even as a sudden lightning that dispersesThe visual spirits, so that it deprivesThe eye of impress from the strongest objects,Thus round about me flashed a living light,And left me swathed around with such a veilOf its effulgence, that I nothing saw.“Ever the Love which quieteth this heavenWelcomes into itself with such salute,To make the candle ready for its flame.”No sooner had within me these brief wordsAn entrance found, than I perceived myselfTo be uplifted over my own power,And I with vision new rekindled me,Such that no light whatever is so pureBut that mine eyes were fortified against it.And light I saw in fashion of a riverFulvid with its effulgence, ’twixt two banksDepicted with an admirable Spring.Out of this river issued living sparks,And on all sides sank down into the flowers,Like unto rubies that are set in gold;And then, as if inebriate with the odours,They plunged again into the wondrous torrent,And as one entered issued forth another.“The high desire, that now inflames and moves theeTo have intelligence of what thou seest,Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.But of this water it behoves thee drinkBefore so great a thirst in thee be slaked.”Thus said to me the sunshine of mine eyes;And added: “The river and the topazesGoing in and out, and the laughing of the herbage,Are of their truth foreshadowing prefaces;Not that these things are difficult in themselves,But the deficiency is on thy side,For yet thou hast not vision so exalted.”There is no babe that leaps so suddenlyWith face towards the milk, if he awakeMuch later than his usual custom is,As I did, that I might make better mirrorsStill of mine eyes, down stooping to the waveWhich flows that we therein be better made.And even as the penthouse of mine eyelidsDrank of it, it forthwith appeared to meOut of its length to be transformed to round.Then as a folk who have been under masksSeem other than before, if they divestThe semblance not their own they disappeared in,Thus into greater pomp were changed for meThe flowerets and the sparks, so that I sawBoth of the Courts of Heaven made manifest.O splendour of God! by means of which I sawThe lofty triumph of the realm veracious,Give me the power to say how it I saw!There is a light above, which visibleMakes the Creator unto every creature,Who only in beholding Him has peace,And it expands itself in circular formTo such extent, that its circumferenceWould be too large a girdle for the sun.The semblance of it is all made of raysReflected from the top of Primal Motion,Which takes therefrom vitality and power.And as a hill in water at its baseMirrors itself, as if to see its beautyWhen affluent most in verdure and in flowers,So, ranged aloft all round about the light,Mirrored I saw in more ranks than a thousandAll who above there have from us returned.And if the lowest row collect within itSo great a light, how vast the amplitudeIs of this Rose in its extremest leaves!My vision in the vastness and the heightLost not itself, but comprehended allThe quantity and quality of that gladness.There near and far nor add nor take away;For there where God immediately doth govern,The natural law in naught is relevant.Into the yellow of the Rose EternalThat spreads, and multiplies, and breathes an odourOf praise unto the ever-vernal Sun,As one who silent is and fain would speak,Me Beatrice drew on, and said: “BeholdOf the white stoles how vast the convent is!Behold how vast the circuit of our city!Behold our seats so filled to overflowing,That here henceforward are few people wanting!On that great throne whereon thine eyes are fixedFor the crown’s sake already placed upon it,Before thou suppest at this wedding feastShall sit the soul (that is to be AugustusOn earth) of noble Henry, who shall comeTo redress Italy ere she be ready.Blind covetousness, that casts its spell upon you,Has made you like unto the little child,Who dies of hunger and drives off the nurse.And in the sacred forum then shall beA Prefect such, that openly or covertOn the same road he will not walk with him.But long of God he will not be enduredIn holy office; he shall be thrust downWhere Simon Magus is for his deserts,And make him of Alagna lower go!”

Perchance six thousand miles remote from usIs glowing the sixth hour, and now this worldInclines its shadow almost to a level,

When the mid-heaven begins to make itselfSo deep to us, that here and there a starCeases to shine so far down as this depth,

And as advances bright exceedinglyThe handmaid of the sun, the heaven is closedLight after light to the most beautiful;

Not otherwise the Triumph, which for everPlays round about the point that vanquished me,Seeming enclosed by what itself encloses,

Little by little from my vision faded;Whereat to turn mine eyes on BeatriceMy seeing nothing and my love constrained me.

If what has hitherto been said of herWere all concluded in a single praise,Scant would it be to serve the present turn.

Not only does the beauty I beheldTranscend ourselves, but truly I believeIts Maker only may enjoy it all.

Vanquished do I confess me by this passageMore than by problem of his theme was everO’ercome the comic or the tragic poet;

For as the sun the sight that trembles most,Even so the memory of that sweet smileMy mind depriveth of its very self.

From the first day that I beheld her faceIn this life, to the moment of this look,The sequence of my song has ne’er been severed;

But now perforce this sequence must desistFrom following her beauty with my verse,As every artist at his uttermost.

Such as I leave her to a greater fameThan any of my trumpet, which is bringingIts arduous matter to a final close,

With voice and gesture of a perfect leaderShe recommenced: “We from the greatest bodyHave issued to the heaven that is pure light;

Light intellectual replete with love,Love of true good replete with ecstasy,Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness.

Here shalt thou see the one host and the otherOf Paradise, and one in the same aspectsWhich at the final judgment thou shalt see.”

Even as a sudden lightning that dispersesThe visual spirits, so that it deprivesThe eye of impress from the strongest objects,

Thus round about me flashed a living light,And left me swathed around with such a veilOf its effulgence, that I nothing saw.

“Ever the Love which quieteth this heavenWelcomes into itself with such salute,To make the candle ready for its flame.”

No sooner had within me these brief wordsAn entrance found, than I perceived myselfTo be uplifted over my own power,

And I with vision new rekindled me,Such that no light whatever is so pureBut that mine eyes were fortified against it.

And light I saw in fashion of a riverFulvid with its effulgence, ’twixt two banksDepicted with an admirable Spring.

Out of this river issued living sparks,And on all sides sank down into the flowers,Like unto rubies that are set in gold;

And then, as if inebriate with the odours,They plunged again into the wondrous torrent,And as one entered issued forth another.

“The high desire, that now inflames and moves theeTo have intelligence of what thou seest,Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.

But of this water it behoves thee drinkBefore so great a thirst in thee be slaked.”Thus said to me the sunshine of mine eyes;

And added: “The river and the topazesGoing in and out, and the laughing of the herbage,Are of their truth foreshadowing prefaces;

Not that these things are difficult in themselves,But the deficiency is on thy side,For yet thou hast not vision so exalted.”

There is no babe that leaps so suddenlyWith face towards the milk, if he awakeMuch later than his usual custom is,

As I did, that I might make better mirrorsStill of mine eyes, down stooping to the waveWhich flows that we therein be better made.

And even as the penthouse of mine eyelidsDrank of it, it forthwith appeared to meOut of its length to be transformed to round.

Then as a folk who have been under masksSeem other than before, if they divestThe semblance not their own they disappeared in,

Thus into greater pomp were changed for meThe flowerets and the sparks, so that I sawBoth of the Courts of Heaven made manifest.

O splendour of God! by means of which I sawThe lofty triumph of the realm veracious,Give me the power to say how it I saw!

There is a light above, which visibleMakes the Creator unto every creature,Who only in beholding Him has peace,

And it expands itself in circular formTo such extent, that its circumferenceWould be too large a girdle for the sun.

The semblance of it is all made of raysReflected from the top of Primal Motion,Which takes therefrom vitality and power.

And as a hill in water at its baseMirrors itself, as if to see its beautyWhen affluent most in verdure and in flowers,

So, ranged aloft all round about the light,Mirrored I saw in more ranks than a thousandAll who above there have from us returned.

And if the lowest row collect within itSo great a light, how vast the amplitudeIs of this Rose in its extremest leaves!

My vision in the vastness and the heightLost not itself, but comprehended allThe quantity and quality of that gladness.

There near and far nor add nor take away;For there where God immediately doth govern,The natural law in naught is relevant.

Into the yellow of the Rose EternalThat spreads, and multiplies, and breathes an odourOf praise unto the ever-vernal Sun,

As one who silent is and fain would speak,Me Beatrice drew on, and said: “BeholdOf the white stoles how vast the convent is!

Behold how vast the circuit of our city!Behold our seats so filled to overflowing,That here henceforward are few people wanting!

On that great throne whereon thine eyes are fixedFor the crown’s sake already placed upon it,Before thou suppest at this wedding feast

Shall sit the soul (that is to be AugustusOn earth) of noble Henry, who shall comeTo redress Italy ere she be ready.

Blind covetousness, that casts its spell upon you,Has made you like unto the little child,Who dies of hunger and drives off the nurse.

And in the sacred forum then shall beA Prefect such, that openly or covertOn the same road he will not walk with him.

But long of God he will not be enduredIn holy office; he shall be thrust downWhere Simon Magus is for his deserts,

And make him of Alagna lower go!”


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