CANTO XXXIIFreely the sage, though wrapt in musings high,Assum’d the teacher’s part, and mild began:“The wound, that Mary clos’d, she open’d first,Who sits so beautiful at Mary’s feet.The third in order, underneath her, lo!Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next,Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid,Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songsOf sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf,Are in gradation throned on the rose.And from the seventh step, successively,Adown the breathing tresses of the flow’rStill doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.For these are a partition wall, wherebyThe sacred stairs are sever’d, as the faithIn Christ divides them. On this part, where bloomsEach leaf in full maturity, are setSuch as in Christ, or ere he came, believ’d.On th’ other, where an intersected spaceYet shows the semicircle void, abideAll they, who look’d to Christ already come.And as our Lady on her glorious stool,And they who on their stools beneath her sit,This way distinction make: e’en so on his,The mighty Baptist that way marks the line(He who endur’d the desert and the painsOf martyrdom, and for two years of hell,Yet still continued holy), and beneath,Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest,Thus far from round to round. So heav’n’s decreeForecasts, this garden equally to fill.With faith in either view, past or to come,Learn too, that downward from the step, which cleavesMidway the twain compartments, none there areWho place obtain for merit of their own,But have through others’ merit been advanc’d,On set conditions: spirits all releas’d,Ere for themselves they had the power to choose.And, if thou mark and listen to them well,Their childish looks and voice declare as much.“Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt;And gladly will I loose the knot, whereinThy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realmExcluded, chalice no entrance here may find,No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.A law immutable hath establish’d all;Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit,Exactly, as the finger to the ring.It is not therefore without cause, that these,O’erspeedy comers to immortal life,Are different in their shares of excellence.Our Sovran Lord—that settleth this estateIn love and in delight so absolute,That wish can dare no further—every soul,Created in his joyous sight to dwell,With grace at pleasure variously endows.And for a proof th’ effect may well suffice.And ’t is moreover most expressly mark’dIn holy scripture, where the twins are saidTo, have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as graceInweaves the coronet, so every browWeareth its proper hue of orient light.And merely in respect to his prime gift,Not in reward of meritorious deed,Hath each his several degree assign’d.In early times with their own innocenceMore was not wanting, than the parents’ faith,To save them: those first ages past, behoov’dThat circumcision in the males should impThe flight of innocent wings: but since the dayOf grace hath come, without baptismal ritesIn Christ accomplish’d, innocence herselfMust linger yet below. Now raise thy viewUnto the visage most resembling Christ:For, in her splendour only, shalt thou winThe pow’r to look on him.” Forthwith I sawSuch floods of gladness on her visage shower’d,From holy spirits, winging that profound;That, whatsoever I had yet beheld,Had not so much suspended me with wonder,Or shown me such similitude of God.And he, who had to her descended, once,On earth, now hail’d in heav’n; and on pois’d wing.“Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena,” sang:To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court,From all parts answ’ring, rang: that holier joyBrooded the deep serene. “Father rever’d:Who deign’st, for me, to quit the pleasant place,Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot!Say, who that angel is, that with such gleeBeholds our queen, and so enamour’d glowsOf her high beauty, that all fire he seems.”So I again resorted to the loreOf my wise teacher, he, whom Mary’s charmsEmbellish’d, as the sun the morning star;Who thus in answer spake: “In him are summ’d,Whatever of buxomness and free delightMay be in Spirit, or in angel, met:And so beseems: for that he bare the palmDown unto Mary, when the Son of GodVouchsaf’d to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words,And note thou of this just and pious realmThe chiefest nobles. Those, highest in bliss,The twain, on each hand next our empress thron’d,Are as it were two roots unto this rose.He to the left, the parent, whose rash tasteProves bitter to his seed; and, on the right,That ancient father of the holy church,Into whose keeping Christ did give the keysOf this sweet flow’r: near whom behold the seer,That, ere he died, saw all the grievous timesOf the fair bride, who with the lance and nailsWas won. And, near unto the other, restsThe leader, under whom on manna fedTh’ ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.On th’ other part, facing to Peter, lo!Where Anna sits, so well content to lookOn her lov’d daughter, that with moveless eyeShe chants the loud hosanna: while, oppos’dTo the first father of your mortal kind,Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped,When on the edge of ruin clos’d thine eye.“But (for the vision hasteneth so an end)Here break we off, as the good workman doth,That shapes the cloak according to the cloth:And to the primal love our ken shall rise;That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, farAs sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in soothBeating thy pennons, thinking to advance,Thou backward fall’st. Grace then must first be gain’d;Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayerSeek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue,Attend, and yield me all thy heart.” He said,And thus the saintly orison began.
Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high,Assum’d the teacher’s part, and mild began:“The wound, that Mary clos’d, she open’d first,Who sits so beautiful at Mary’s feet.The third in order, underneath her, lo!Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next,Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid,Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songsOf sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf,Are in gradation throned on the rose.And from the seventh step, successively,Adown the breathing tresses of the flow’rStill doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.For these are a partition wall, wherebyThe sacred stairs are sever’d, as the faithIn Christ divides them. On this part, where bloomsEach leaf in full maturity, are setSuch as in Christ, or ere he came, believ’d.On th’ other, where an intersected spaceYet shows the semicircle void, abideAll they, who look’d to Christ already come.And as our Lady on her glorious stool,And they who on their stools beneath her sit,This way distinction make: e’en so on his,The mighty Baptist that way marks the line(He who endur’d the desert and the painsOf martyrdom, and for two years of hell,Yet still continued holy), and beneath,Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest,Thus far from round to round. So heav’n’s decreeForecasts, this garden equally to fill.With faith in either view, past or to come,Learn too, that downward from the step, which cleavesMidway the twain compartments, none there areWho place obtain for merit of their own,But have through others’ merit been advanc’d,On set conditions: spirits all releas’d,Ere for themselves they had the power to choose.And, if thou mark and listen to them well,Their childish looks and voice declare as much.“Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt;And gladly will I loose the knot, whereinThy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realmExcluded, chalice no entrance here may find,No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.A law immutable hath establish’d all;Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit,Exactly, as the finger to the ring.It is not therefore without cause, that these,O’erspeedy comers to immortal life,Are different in their shares of excellence.Our Sovran Lord—that settleth this estateIn love and in delight so absolute,That wish can dare no further—every soul,Created in his joyous sight to dwell,With grace at pleasure variously endows.And for a proof th’ effect may well suffice.And ’t is moreover most expressly mark’dIn holy scripture, where the twins are saidTo, have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as graceInweaves the coronet, so every browWeareth its proper hue of orient light.And merely in respect to his prime gift,Not in reward of meritorious deed,Hath each his several degree assign’d.In early times with their own innocenceMore was not wanting, than the parents’ faith,To save them: those first ages past, behoov’dThat circumcision in the males should impThe flight of innocent wings: but since the dayOf grace hath come, without baptismal ritesIn Christ accomplish’d, innocence herselfMust linger yet below. Now raise thy viewUnto the visage most resembling Christ:For, in her splendour only, shalt thou winThe pow’r to look on him.” Forthwith I sawSuch floods of gladness on her visage shower’d,From holy spirits, winging that profound;That, whatsoever I had yet beheld,Had not so much suspended me with wonder,Or shown me such similitude of God.And he, who had to her descended, once,On earth, now hail’d in heav’n; and on pois’d wing.“Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena,” sang:To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court,From all parts answ’ring, rang: that holier joyBrooded the deep serene. “Father rever’d:Who deign’st, for me, to quit the pleasant place,Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot!Say, who that angel is, that with such gleeBeholds our queen, and so enamour’d glowsOf her high beauty, that all fire he seems.”So I again resorted to the loreOf my wise teacher, he, whom Mary’s charmsEmbellish’d, as the sun the morning star;Who thus in answer spake: “In him are summ’d,Whatever of buxomness and free delightMay be in Spirit, or in angel, met:And so beseems: for that he bare the palmDown unto Mary, when the Son of GodVouchsaf’d to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words,And note thou of this just and pious realmThe chiefest nobles. Those, highest in bliss,The twain, on each hand next our empress thron’d,Are as it were two roots unto this rose.He to the left, the parent, whose rash tasteProves bitter to his seed; and, on the right,That ancient father of the holy church,Into whose keeping Christ did give the keysOf this sweet flow’r: near whom behold the seer,That, ere he died, saw all the grievous timesOf the fair bride, who with the lance and nailsWas won. And, near unto the other, restsThe leader, under whom on manna fedTh’ ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.On th’ other part, facing to Peter, lo!Where Anna sits, so well content to lookOn her lov’d daughter, that with moveless eyeShe chants the loud hosanna: while, oppos’dTo the first father of your mortal kind,Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped,When on the edge of ruin clos’d thine eye.“But (for the vision hasteneth so an end)Here break we off, as the good workman doth,That shapes the cloak according to the cloth:And to the primal love our ken shall rise;That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, farAs sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in soothBeating thy pennons, thinking to advance,Thou backward fall’st. Grace then must first be gain’d;Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayerSeek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue,Attend, and yield me all thy heart.” He said,And thus the saintly orison began.