CANTO XVAs much as ’twixt the third hour’s close and dawn,Appeareth of heav’n’s sphere, that ever whirlsAs restless as an infant in his play,So much appear’d remaining to the sunOf his slope journey towards the western goal.Evening was there, and here the noon of night;and full upon our forehead smote the beams.For round the mountain, circling, so our pathHad led us, that toward the sun-set nowDirect we journey’d: when I felt a weightOf more exceeding splendour, than before,Press on my front. The cause unknown, amazePossess’d me, and both hands against my browLifting, I interpos’d them, as a screen,That of its gorgeous superflux of lightClipp’d the diminish’d orb. As when the ray,Striking On water or the surface clearOf mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,Ascending at a glance, e’en as it fell,(And so much differs from the stone, that falls)Through equal space, as practice skill hath shown;Thus with refracted light before me seemedThe ground there smitten; whence in sudden hasteMy sight recoil’d. “What is this, sire belov’d!’Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?”Cried I, “and which towards us moving seems?”“Marvel not, if the family of heav’n,”He answer’d, “yet with dazzling radiance dimThy sense it is a messenger who comes,Inviting man’s ascent. Such sights ere long,Not grievous, shall impart to thee delight,As thy perception is by nature wroughtUp to their pitch.” The blessed angel, soonAs we had reach’d him, hail’d us with glad voice:“Here enter on a ladder far less steepThan ye have yet encounter’d.” We forthwithAscending, heard behind us chanted sweet,“Blessed the merciful,” and “happy thou!That conquer’st.” Lonely each, my guide and IPursued our upward way; and as we went,Some profit from his words I hop’d to win,And thus of him inquiring, fram’d my speech:“What meant Romagna’s spirit, when he spakeOf bliss exclusive with no partner shar’d?”He straight replied: “No wonder, since he knows,What sorrow waits on his own worst defect,If he chide others, that they less may mourn.Because ye point your wishes at a mark,Where, by communion of possessors, partIs lessen’d, envy bloweth up the sighs of men.No fear of that might touch ye, if the loveOf higher sphere exalted your desire.For there, by how much more they call it ours,So much propriety of each in goodIncreases more, and heighten’d charityWraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.”“Now lack I satisfaction more,” said I,“Than if thou hadst been silent at the first,And doubt more gathers on my lab’ring thought.How can it chance, that good distributed,The many, that possess it, makes more rich,Than if ’t were shar’d by few?” He answering thus:“Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,Strikes darkness from true light. The highest goodUnlimited, ineffable, doth so speedTo love, as beam to lucid body darts,Giving as much of ardour as it finds.The sempiternal effluence streams abroadSpreading, wherever charity extends.So that the more aspirants to that blissAre multiplied, more good is there to love,And more is lov’d; as mirrors, that reflect,Each unto other, propagated light.If these my words avail not to allayThy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,Who of this want, and of all else thou hast,Shall rid thee to the full. Provide but thouThat from thy temples may be soon eras’d,E’en as the two already, those five scars,That when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal,”“Thou,” I had said, “content’st me,” when I sawThe other round was gain’d, and wond’ring eyesDid keep me mute. There suddenly I seem’dBy an ecstatic vision wrapt away;And in a temple saw, methought, a crowdOf many persons; and at th’ entrance stoodA dame, whose sweet demeanour did expressA mother’s love, who said, “Child! why hast thouDealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and ISorrowing have sought thee;” and so held her peace,And straight the vision fled. A female nextAppear’d before me, down whose visage cours’dThose waters, that grief forces out from oneBy deep resentment stung, who seem’d to say:“If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeedOver this city, nam’d with such debateOf adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embraceHath clasp’d our daughter; “and to fuel, meseem’d,Benign and meek, with visage undisturb’d,Her sovran spake: “How shall we those requite,Who wish us evil, if we thus condemnThe man that loves us?” After that I sawA multitude, in fury burning, slayWith stones a stripling youth, and shout amain“Destroy, destroy!” and him I saw, who bow’dHeavy with death unto the ground, yet madeHis eyes, unfolded upward, gates to heav’n,Praying forgiveness of th’ Almighty Sire,Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,With looks, that With compassion to their aim.Soon as my spirit, from her airy flightReturning, sought again the things, whose truthDepends not on her shaping, I observ’dHow she had rov’d to no unreal scenesMeanwhile the leader, who might see I mov’d,As one, who struggles to shake off his sleep,Exclaim’d: “What ails thee, that thou canst not holdThy footing firm, but more than half a leagueHast travel’d with clos’d eyes and tott’ring gait,Like to a man by wine or sleep o’ercharg’d?”“Beloved father! so thou deign,” said I,“To listen, I will tell thee what appear’dBefore me, when so fail’d my sinking steps.”He thus: “Not if thy Countenance were mask’dWith hundred vizards, could a thought of thineHow small soe’er, elude me. What thou saw’stWas shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heartTo the waters of peace, that flow diffus’dFrom their eternal fountain. I not ask’d,What ails thee? for such cause as he doth, whoLooks only with that eye which sees no more,When spiritless the body lies; but ask’d,To give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goadsThe slow and loit’ring need; that they be foundNot wanting, when their hour of watch returns.”So on we journey’d through the evening skyGazing intent, far onward, as our eyesWith level view could stretch against the brightVespertine ray: and lo! by slow degreesGath’ring, a fog made tow’rds us, dark as night.There was no room for ’scaping; and that mistBereft us, both of sight and the pure air.
As much as ’twixt the third hour’s close and dawn,Appeareth of heav’n’s sphere, that ever whirlsAs restless as an infant in his play,So much appear’d remaining to the sunOf his slope journey towards the western goal.Evening was there, and here the noon of night;and full upon our forehead smote the beams.For round the mountain, circling, so our pathHad led us, that toward the sun-set nowDirect we journey’d: when I felt a weightOf more exceeding splendour, than before,Press on my front. The cause unknown, amazePossess’d me, and both hands against my browLifting, I interpos’d them, as a screen,That of its gorgeous superflux of lightClipp’d the diminish’d orb. As when the ray,Striking On water or the surface clearOf mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,Ascending at a glance, e’en as it fell,(And so much differs from the stone, that falls)Through equal space, as practice skill hath shown;Thus with refracted light before me seemedThe ground there smitten; whence in sudden hasteMy sight recoil’d. “What is this, sire belov’d!’Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?”Cried I, “and which towards us moving seems?”“Marvel not, if the family of heav’n,”He answer’d, “yet with dazzling radiance dimThy sense it is a messenger who comes,Inviting man’s ascent. Such sights ere long,Not grievous, shall impart to thee delight,As thy perception is by nature wroughtUp to their pitch.” The blessed angel, soonAs we had reach’d him, hail’d us with glad voice:“Here enter on a ladder far less steepThan ye have yet encounter’d.” We forthwithAscending, heard behind us chanted sweet,“Blessed the merciful,” and “happy thou!That conquer’st.” Lonely each, my guide and IPursued our upward way; and as we went,Some profit from his words I hop’d to win,And thus of him inquiring, fram’d my speech:“What meant Romagna’s spirit, when he spakeOf bliss exclusive with no partner shar’d?”He straight replied: “No wonder, since he knows,What sorrow waits on his own worst defect,If he chide others, that they less may mourn.Because ye point your wishes at a mark,Where, by communion of possessors, partIs lessen’d, envy bloweth up the sighs of men.No fear of that might touch ye, if the loveOf higher sphere exalted your desire.For there, by how much more they call it ours,So much propriety of each in goodIncreases more, and heighten’d charityWraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.”“Now lack I satisfaction more,” said I,“Than if thou hadst been silent at the first,And doubt more gathers on my lab’ring thought.How can it chance, that good distributed,The many, that possess it, makes more rich,Than if ’t were shar’d by few?” He answering thus:“Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,Strikes darkness from true light. The highest goodUnlimited, ineffable, doth so speedTo love, as beam to lucid body darts,Giving as much of ardour as it finds.The sempiternal effluence streams abroadSpreading, wherever charity extends.So that the more aspirants to that blissAre multiplied, more good is there to love,And more is lov’d; as mirrors, that reflect,Each unto other, propagated light.If these my words avail not to allayThy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,Who of this want, and of all else thou hast,Shall rid thee to the full. Provide but thouThat from thy temples may be soon eras’d,E’en as the two already, those five scars,That when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal,”“Thou,” I had said, “content’st me,” when I sawThe other round was gain’d, and wond’ring eyesDid keep me mute. There suddenly I seem’dBy an ecstatic vision wrapt away;And in a temple saw, methought, a crowdOf many persons; and at th’ entrance stoodA dame, whose sweet demeanour did expressA mother’s love, who said, “Child! why hast thouDealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and ISorrowing have sought thee;” and so held her peace,And straight the vision fled. A female nextAppear’d before me, down whose visage cours’dThose waters, that grief forces out from oneBy deep resentment stung, who seem’d to say:“If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeedOver this city, nam’d with such debateOf adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embraceHath clasp’d our daughter; “and to fuel, meseem’d,Benign and meek, with visage undisturb’d,Her sovran spake: “How shall we those requite,Who wish us evil, if we thus condemnThe man that loves us?” After that I sawA multitude, in fury burning, slayWith stones a stripling youth, and shout amain“Destroy, destroy!” and him I saw, who bow’dHeavy with death unto the ground, yet madeHis eyes, unfolded upward, gates to heav’n,
Praying forgiveness of th’ Almighty Sire,Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,With looks, that With compassion to their aim.Soon as my spirit, from her airy flightReturning, sought again the things, whose truthDepends not on her shaping, I observ’dHow she had rov’d to no unreal scenesMeanwhile the leader, who might see I mov’d,As one, who struggles to shake off his sleep,Exclaim’d: “What ails thee, that thou canst not holdThy footing firm, but more than half a leagueHast travel’d with clos’d eyes and tott’ring gait,Like to a man by wine or sleep o’ercharg’d?”“Beloved father! so thou deign,” said I,“To listen, I will tell thee what appear’dBefore me, when so fail’d my sinking steps.”He thus: “Not if thy Countenance were mask’dWith hundred vizards, could a thought of thineHow small soe’er, elude me. What thou saw’stWas shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heartTo the waters of peace, that flow diffus’dFrom their eternal fountain. I not ask’d,What ails thee? for such cause as he doth, whoLooks only with that eye which sees no more,When spiritless the body lies; but ask’d,To give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goadsThe slow and loit’ring need; that they be foundNot wanting, when their hour of watch returns.”So on we journey’d through the evening skyGazing intent, far onward, as our eyesWith level view could stretch against the brightVespertine ray: and lo! by slow degreesGath’ring, a fog made tow’rds us, dark as night.There was no room for ’scaping; and that mistBereft us, both of sight and the pure air.