If sudden on the sight, the star of dayShould shed his beams on one in darkness reared,Nurtured beneath the black Cimmerian sky,Far from the radiance of the glorious sun,The double light, the beacon of the soulHe quenches: then as a foe he hides.Thus were my eyes made dull, inept,Used only, wonted beauties to behold.Conduct me to the land where darkness reigns!Wherefore being dead, speak I amidst the folk?A chip of Hell, why do I mix and moveAmongst the living, wherefore do I drinkThe hated air, since all my painIs due to having seen the highest good?
If sudden on the sight, the star of dayShould shed his beams on one in darkness reared,Nurtured beneath the black Cimmerian sky,Far from the radiance of the glorious sun,The double light, the beacon of the soulHe quenches: then as a foe he hides.Thus were my eyes made dull, inept,Used only, wonted beauties to behold.Conduct me to the land where darkness reigns!Wherefore being dead, speak I amidst the folk?A chip of Hell, why do I mix and moveAmongst the living, wherefore do I drinkThe hated air, since all my painIs due to having seen the highest good?
The fourth blind man comes forward, not blind for the same reason as the former one. For asthat one was blinded through the sudden aspect of the light, this one is so, from having too frequently beheld it, or through having fixed his eyes too much upon it, so that he has lost the sense of all other light, but he does not consider himself to be blind through looking at that one which has blinded him: and the same may be said of the sense of sight as of the sense of hearing, that those whose ears are accustomed to great noises, do not hear the lesser, as is well known of those who live near the cataracts of the great river Nile which fall precipitously down to the plain.
Min.Thus, all those who have accustomed the body and the soul to things more difficult and great, are not apt to feel annoyed by smaller difficulties. So that fellow ought not to be discontented about his blindness.
Sev.Certainly not. But one says, voluntarily blind, of one who desires that every other thing be hidden because it annoys him to be diverted from looking at that which alone he wishes to behold. Meanwhile he prays the passers-by to prevent his coming to mischief in any encounter, while he goes so absorbed and captivated by one principal object.
Min.Repeat his words!
Sev.He says:
66
The fourth blind man.
Headlong from on high, to the abyss,The cataract of the Nile falls down and dulls the sensesOf the joyless folk to every other sound,So stood I too, with spirit all intentUpon the living light, that lights the world;Dead henceforth to all the lesser splendours,While that light shines, let every other thingBe to the voluntary blind concealed.I pray you save me stumbling 'mongst the stones,Make me aware of the wild beast,Show me whether up or down I go;So that the miserable bones fall not,Into a low and cavernous place,While I, without a guide, am stepping on.
Headlong from on high, to the abyss,The cataract of the Nile falls down and dulls the sensesOf the joyless folk to every other sound,So stood I too, with spirit all intentUpon the living light, that lights the world;Dead henceforth to all the lesser splendours,While that light shines, let every other thingBe to the voluntary blind concealed.I pray you save me stumbling 'mongst the stones,Make me aware of the wild beast,Show me whether up or down I go;So that the miserable bones fall not,Into a low and cavernous place,While I, without a guide, am stepping on.
To the blind man that follows, it happens that having wept so much, his eyes are become dim, so that he is not able to extend the visual ray, so as to distinguish visible objects, nor can he see the light, which in spite of himself, through so many sorrows, he at one time was able to see. Besides which he considers that his blindness is not from constitution, but from habit, and is peculiar to himself, because the luminous fire which kindles the soul in the pupil, was for too long a time and with too much force, repressed and restrained by a contrary humour, so that although he might cease from weeping, hecannot be persuaded that this would result in the longed-for vision. You will hear what he says to the throng in order that they should enable him to proceed on his way:
67.
The fifth blind man.
Eyes of mine, with waters ever full,When will the bright spark of the visual ray,Darting, spring through each veiling obstacle,That I may see again those holy lightsThat were the alpha of my darling pain?Ah, woe! I fear me it is quite extinct,So long oppressed and conquered by its opposite.Let the blind man pass on!And turn your eyes upon these fountsWhich overcome the others one and all.Should any dare dispute it with me,There's one would surely answer him again;That in one eye of mine an ocean is contained.
Eyes of mine, with waters ever full,When will the bright spark of the visual ray,Darting, spring through each veiling obstacle,That I may see again those holy lightsThat were the alpha of my darling pain?Ah, woe! I fear me it is quite extinct,So long oppressed and conquered by its opposite.Let the blind man pass on!And turn your eyes upon these fountsWhich overcome the others one and all.Should any dare dispute it with me,There's one would surely answer him again;That in one eye of mine an ocean is contained.
The sixth blind man is sightless because, through so much weeping, there remains no more moisture, not even the crystalline and moisture through which, as a diaphanous medium, the visual ray was transmitted, and the external light and visible species were introduced, so that the heart became compressed because all the moist substance, whose office it is to keep united the various parts and opposites, was absorbed, and the amorous affection remains without the effect of tears. Therefore theorgan is destroyed through the victory of the other elements, and it is consequently left without sight and without consistency of the parts of the body altogether.[AC] He then proposes to the bystanders that which you shall hear:
68.
The sixth blind man.
Eyes, no longer eyes, fountains no longer founts,Ye have wept out the waters that did keepThe body, soul, and spirit joined in one,And thou, reflecting crystal, which from withoutSo much unto the soul made manifest,Thou art consumed by the wounded heart.So towards the dark and cavernous abyss,I, a blind arid man, direct my steps.Ah, pity me, and do not hesitateTo help my speedy going. I whoSo many rivers in the dark days spread out,Finding my only comfort in my tears,Now that my streams and fountains all are dry,Towards profound oblivion lead the way.
Eyes, no longer eyes, fountains no longer founts,Ye have wept out the waters that did keepThe body, soul, and spirit joined in one,And thou, reflecting crystal, which from withoutSo much unto the soul made manifest,Thou art consumed by the wounded heart.So towards the dark and cavernous abyss,I, a blind arid man, direct my steps.Ah, pity me, and do not hesitateTo help my speedy going. I whoSo many rivers in the dark days spread out,Finding my only comfort in my tears,Now that my streams and fountains all are dry,Towards profound oblivion lead the way.
[AC] Water is the first principle of all things; this was the central doctrine of his system (Thales). Now, if we may believe Aristotle, this thought was suggested to him not so much by contemplating the illimitable ocean, out of which, as old cosmogonists taught, all things had at first proceeded, as by noticing the obvious fact, that moisture is found in all living things, and that if it were absent they would cease to be. Thales, no doubt, believed this humour or moisture to be, as he said, the essence and principle of all things.—("Encyclopædia Metropolitana.")
The next one avers that he has lost his sight through the intensity of the flame, which, proceeding from the heart, first destroyed the eyes, and then dried up all the remaining moisture of the substance of the lover, so that being all melted and turned to flame, he is no longer himself, because the fire whose property it is to resolve all bodies into their atoms, has converted him into impalpable dust, whereas by virtue of water alone, the atoms of other bodies thicken, and are welded together to make a substantial composition. Yet he is not deprived of the sense of the most intense flame. Therefore, in the sistine he would have space made for him to pass; for if anybody should be touched by his fires he would become such that he would have no more feeling of the flames of hell, for their heat would be to him as cold snow.
69.
The seventh blind man.
Beauty, which through the eyes rushed to the heart,And formed the mighty furnace in my breast,Absorbing first the visual moisture; then,Spouting aloft its grasping flashing flame,Devouring every other fluid,To set the dryer element at rest,Has thus reduced me to a boneless dust,Which now to its own atoms is resolved,If anguish infinite your fears should rouseMake space, give way, oh peoples!Beware of my fierce penetrating fire,For if it should invade and touch you, yeWould feel and know the fires of hellTo be like winter's cold.
Beauty, which through the eyes rushed to the heart,And formed the mighty furnace in my breast,Absorbing first the visual moisture; then,Spouting aloft its grasping flashing flame,Devouring every other fluid,To set the dryer element at rest,Has thus reduced me to a boneless dust,Which now to its own atoms is resolved,If anguish infinite your fears should rouseMake space, give way, oh peoples!Beware of my fierce penetrating fire,For if it should invade and touch you, yeWould feel and know the fires of hellTo be like winter's cold.
The eighth follows, whose blindness is caused by the dart which love has caused to penetrate from the eyes to the heart. Hence, he laments not only as being blind, but furthermore because he is wounded and burnt so fiercely, that he believes no other can be equally so. The sense of it is easily expressed in this sonnet:—
70.
The eighth blind man.
Vile onslaught, evil struggle, unrighteous palm,Fine point, devouring fire, strong nerve,Sharp wound, impious ardour, cruel body,Dart, fire and tangle of that wayward godWho pierced the eyes, inflamed the heart, bound the soul,Made me at once sightless, a lover, and a slave,So that, blind I have at all times, in all ways and places,The feeling of my wound, my fire, my noose.Men, heroes, and gods!Who be on earth, or near to Ditis or to Jove,I pray ye say, when, how, and where did yeFeel ever, hear, or see in any placeWoes like to these, amongst the oppressedAmongst the damned, 'mongst lovers?
Vile onslaught, evil struggle, unrighteous palm,Fine point, devouring fire, strong nerve,Sharp wound, impious ardour, cruel body,Dart, fire and tangle of that wayward godWho pierced the eyes, inflamed the heart, bound the soul,Made me at once sightless, a lover, and a slave,So that, blind I have at all times, in all ways and places,The feeling of my wound, my fire, my noose.Men, heroes, and gods!Who be on earth, or near to Ditis or to Jove,I pray ye say, when, how, and where did yeFeel ever, hear, or see in any placeWoes like to these, amongst the oppressedAmongst the damned, 'mongst lovers?
Finally comes the last one, who is also mute through not having been able, or having dared, to say that which he most desired to say, for fear of offending or exciting contempt, and he is deprived of speaking of every other thing: therefore, it is not he who speaks, but his guide who relates the affair, about which I do not speak, but only bring you the sense thereof:
71.
The guide of the ninth blind man.
Happy are ye, oh all ye sightless lovers,That ye the reason of your pains can tell,By virtue of your tears you can be sureOf pure and favourable receptions.Amongst you all, the latent fire of himWhose guide I am, rages most fiercely,Though he is mute for want of boldnessTo make known his sorrows to his deity.Make way! open ye wide the way,Be ye benign unto this vacant face,Oh people full of grievous hindrances,The while this harassed weary trunkGoes knocking at the doorsTo meet a death less painful, more profound.
Happy are ye, oh all ye sightless lovers,That ye the reason of your pains can tell,By virtue of your tears you can be sureOf pure and favourable receptions.Amongst you all, the latent fire of himWhose guide I am, rages most fiercely,Though he is mute for want of boldnessTo make known his sorrows to his deity.Make way! open ye wide the way,Be ye benign unto this vacant face,Oh people full of grievous hindrances,The while this harassed weary trunkGoes knocking at the doorsTo meet a death less painful, more profound.
Here are mentioned nine reasons, which are the cause that the human mind is blind as regards the Divine object and cannot fix its eyes upon it. And of these, the first, allegorized through the first blindman, is the quality of its own species, which in so far as the degree in which he finds himself admits, he aspires certainly higher, than he is able to comprehend.
Min.Because no natural desire is vain, we are able to assure ourselves of a more excellent state which is suitable to the soul outside of this body, in the which it may be possible to unite itself, or to approach more nearly, to its object.
Sev.Thou sayest well that no natural impulse or power is without strong reason; it is in fact the same rule of nature which orders things. So far, it is a thing most true and most certain to well-disposed intellects, that the human soul, whatever it may show itself while it is in the body, that same, which it makes manifest in this state, is the expression of its pilgrim existence in this region; because it aspires to the truth and to universal good, and is not satisfied with that which comes on account of and to the profit of its species.
The second, represented by the second blind man, proceeds from some troubled affection, as in the question of Love and Jealousy, the which is like a moth, which has the same subject, enemy and father, that is, it consumes the cloth or wood from which, it is generated.
Min.This does not seem to me to take place with heroic love.
Sev.True, according to the same reason which is seen in the lower kind of love; but I mean according to another reason similar to that which happens to those who love truth and goodness, which shows itself when they are angry against those who adulterate it, spoil it, or corrupt it, or who in other ways would treat it with indignity, as has been the case with those who have brought themselves to suffer death and pains, and to being ignominiously treated by ignorant peoples and vulgar sects.
Min.Certainly no one truly loves the truth and the good who is not angry against the multitude; as no one loves in the ordinary way who is not jealous and fearful about the thing loved.
Sev.And so he comes to be really blind in many things, and according to the common opinion he is quite infatuated and mad.
Min.I have noted a place which says that all those are infatuated and mad, who have sense beyond and outside of the general sense of other men. But such extravagance is of two kinds, according as one goes beyond and ascends up higher than the greater number rise or can rise, and these are they who are inspired with Divine enthusiasm; or by going downlower where those are found who have greater defect of sense and of reason than the many, and the ordinary; but in that kind of madness, insensibility and blindness, will not be found the jealous hero.
Sev.Although he is told that much learning makes him mad, yet no one can really abuse him. The third, represented by the third blind man, proceeds from this: that Divine Truth according to supernatural reasoning, called metaphysics, manifests itself to those few to whom it shows itself, and does not proceed with measure of movement and time as occurs in the physical sciences, that is, those which are acquired by natural light, the which, in discoursing of a thing known to reason by means of the senses, proceed to the knowledge of another thing, unknown, the which discourse is called argument; but immediately and suddenly, according to the method which belongs to such efficiency.[AD] Whence a divine has said: "Attenuati sunt oculi mei suspicientes in excelsum." So that it does not require a useless lapse of time, fatigue, and study,and inquisitorial act to have it, but it is taken in quickly, as the solar light, without hesitation, and makes itself present to whoever turns himself to it and opens himself to it.
[AD] When somewhat of this Perfect Good is discovered and revealed within the soul of man, as it were in a glance or flash, the soul conceiveth a longing to approach unto the Perfect Goodness.—("Theologia Germanica.")
Min.Do you mean then, that the student and the philosopher are not more apt to receive this light than the ignorant?
Sev.In a certain way no, and in a certain way yes. There is no difference, when the Divine mind through its providence comes to communicate itself without disposition of the subject; I mean to say when it communicates itself because it seeks and elects its subject; but there is a great difference, when it waits and would be sought, and then according to its own good will and pleasure it makes itself to be found. In this way it does not appear to all, nor can it appear to others, than to those who seek it. Hence it is said, "Qui quærunt me, invenient me;" and again: "Qui sitit, veniat et bibat!"
Min.It is not to be denied, that the apprehension of the second manner is made in Time. (Comes with time?)
Sev.You do not distinguish between the disposition towards the Divine light and the apprehension of the same. Certainly I do not deny that it requires time to dispose oneself, discourse,study and fatigue; but as we say that change takes place in time, and generation in an instant, and as we see that with time, the windows are opened, but the sun enters in a moment, so does it happen similarly in this case.
The fourth, represented in the following, is not really unworthy, like that which results from the habit of believing in the false opinions of the vulgar, which are very far removed from the opinions of philosophers, and are derived from the study of vulgar philosophies, which are by the multitude considered the more true, the more they appeal to common sense. And this habit is one of the greatest and strongest disadvantages, because as Alcazele and Averroes showed, it is like that which happens to those persons who from childhood and youth are in the habit of eating poison, and have become such, that it is converted into sweet and proper nutriment, and on the other hand, they abominate those things which are really good and sweet according to common nature; but it is most worthy, because it is founded upon the habit of looking at the true light; the which habit cannot come into use for the multitude, as we have said. This blindness is heroic, and is of such a kind that it can worthily satisfy the present heroicblind man, who is so far from troubling himself about it that he is able to explain every other sight, and he would crave nothing else from the community save a free passage and progress in contemplation, for he finds himself usually hampered and blocked by obstacles and opposition.
The fifth results from the disproportion of the means of our cognition to the knowable; seeing that in order to contemplate Divine things, the eyes must be opened by means of images, analogies and other reasonings which by the Peripatetics are comprehended under the name of fancies (fantasmi); or, by means of Being, to proceed to speculate about Essence, by means of its effects and the knowledge of the cause; the which means, are so far from ensuring the attainment of such an end, that it is easier to believe that the highest and most profound cognition of Divine things, is through negation and not through affirmation, knowing that the Divine beauty and goodness is not that which can or does fall within our conception, but that which is above and beyond, incomprehensible; chiefly in that condition called by the philosopher speculation of phantoms, and by the theologian, vision through analogies, reflections and enigmas, because we see, not the true effects and the true species of things,or the substance of ideas, but the shadows, vestiges and simulacra of them, like those who are inside the cave and have from their birth their shoulders turned away from the entrance of the light, and their faces towards the end, where they do not see that which is in reality, but the shadows of that which is found substantially outside the cave. Therefore by the open vision which it has lost, and knows it has lost, a spirit similar to or better than that of Plato weeps, desiring exit from the cave, whence, not through reflexion, but through immediate conversion he may see the light again.
Min.It appears to me that this blind man does not refer to the difficulty which proceeds from reflective vision, but to that which is caused through the medium between the visual power and the object.
Sev.These two modes, although they are distinct in the sensitive cognition, or ocular vision, at the same time are united together in the rational or intellectual cognition.
Min.It seems to me that I have heard and read that in every vision, the means, or the intermediary is required between the power and the object. Because as by means of the light diffused in the air and the figure of the thing, which in a certain way proceeds from that which is seen, to that whichsees, the act of seeing is put into effect, so in the intellectual region, where shines the sun of the intellect, acting between the intelligible species formed as proceeding from the object, our intellect comes to comprehend something of the divinity, or something inferior to it. Because, as our eye, when we see, does not receive the light of the fire and of gold, in substance, but in similitude; so the intellect, in whatever state it is found, does not receive the divinity substantially, so that there should be substantially as many gods as there are intelligences, but in similitude; therefore they are not formally gods, but denominatively divine, the divinity and Divine beauty being one, exalted above all things.
Sev.You say well; but for all your well saying, there is no need for me to retract, because I have never said the contrary. But I must declare and explain. Therefore, first I maintain that the immediate vision, so called and understood by us, does not do away with that sort of medium which is the intelligible species, nor that which is the light; but that which is equal to the thickness and density of the crystalline or opaque intermediate body; as happens to him who sees by means of the waters more or less turbid, or air foggy and cloudy, whowould believe he was looking as without a medium when it was conceded to him to look through the pure air, light and clear. All which you have explained where it says:
"When will the bright spark of the visual rayDarting, spring through each veiling obstacle."
"When will the bright spark of the visual rayDarting, spring through each veiling obstacle."
But let us return. The sixth, represented in the following, is caused only by the imbecility and unreality of the body, which is in continual motion, mutation, and change, the operations of which must follow the condition of its faculty, the which is a result of the condition of its nature and being. How can immobility, reality, entity, truth be contained in that which is ever different, and always makes and is made, other and otherwise? What truth, what picture can be painted and impressed, where the pupils of the eyes are dispersed in water, the water into steam, the steam into flame, the flame into air, and this in other and other without end: the subject of sense and cognition turns for ever upon the wheel of mutation?
Min.Movement is change, and that which is changeable works and operates ever differently, because the conception and affection follow the reason and condition of the subject; and he who sees other and other different and differently mustnecessarily be blind as regards that beauty which is one and alone and is the same unity and entity.
Sev.So it is. The seventh, contained allegorically in the sentiment of the seventh blind man, is the result of the fire of the affections, whence some become impotent and incapable of comprehending the truth, by making the affection precede the intellect. There are those who love before they understand: whence it happens that all things appear to them according to the colour of their affections, whereas he who would understand the truth by means of contemplation, ought to be perfectly pure in thought.
Min.In truth, one sees how much diversity there is in meditators and inquirers, because some, according to their habits and early fundamental discipline, proceed by means of numbers,[AE] others by means of images, others by means of order and disorder, others through composition and division, others by separation and congregation, others by inquiry and doubt, others by discussions and definitions, others by interpretations and decypherings of voices, words, and dialects, so that some are mathematical philosophers, some metaphysicians, others logicians, others grammarians; so there are divers contemplators, who with different affections set themselves to study and apply the meaning of written sentences; whence we find that the same light of truth, expressed in the selfsame book, serves with the same words the proposition of so numerous, diverse, and contrary sects.[AF]
[AE] Number is, as the great writer (Balzac) thought, an Entity, and, at the same time, a Breath emanating from what he termed God, and what we call the ALL; the breath which alone could organize the physical kosmos.—("The Secret Doctrine.")
[AE] Number is, as the great writer (Balzac) thought, an Entity, and, at the same time, a Breath emanating from what he termed God, and what we call the ALL; the breath which alone could organize the physical kosmos.—("The Secret Doctrine.")
[AF] As the Bible serves as the basis for all the different Protestant sects.
[AF] As the Bible serves as the basis for all the different Protestant sects.
Sev.That is to say, that the affections are very powerful in hindering the comprehension of the Truth, notwithstanding that the person may not himself perceive it; just as it happens to a stupid invalid who does not say that his mouth is bittered but that the food is bitter. Now that kind of blindness is expressed by him whose eyes are changed and deprived of their natural powers, by that which the heart has given and imprinted upon it, powerful not only to change the sense, but besides that, all the faculties of the soul as the present image shows. According to the meaning of the eighth, the high intelligible object hasblinded the intellect, as the high superposed sensible has corrupted the senses. Thus it would happen to him who should see Jove in his majesty, he would lose his life and in consequence his senses. As he who looks aloft sometimes is overcome by the majesty.[AG] Besides, when he comes to penetrate the Divine species, he passes it like a ray. Whence say the theologians that the Divine word is more penetrating than sharp point of sword or knife. Hence is derived the form and impressionof His own footstep, upon which nothing else can be imprinted and sealed. Therefore, that form being there confirmed and the new strange one not being able to take its place unless the other yields, consequently he can say, that he has no power of taking any other, if there is one who replaces it or scatters it through the necessary want of proportion. The ninth reason is exemplified, by the ninth who is blind through want of confidence, through dejection of spirit, the which is caused and brought about also by a great love which He fears to offend by His temerity. Whence says the Psalm: "Averte oculos tuos a me, quia ipsi me avolare fecere." And so he suppresses his eyes so as not to see that which most of all he desires, as he keeps his tongue from talking with whom he most wishes to speak, from fear that a defective look or word should humiliate him or bring him in some way into misfortune. And this generally proceeds from the apprehension of the excellence of the object above its potential faculty: whence the most profound and divine theologians say, that God is more honoured and loved by silence than by words; as one sees more by shutting the eyes to the species represented, than by opening them, therefore the negative theology of Pythagoras and Dionysius is more celebrated than the demonstrative theology of Aristotle and the scholastic doctors.
[AG]... Gaze, as thy lips have said,On God Eternal, Very God! See me, see what thou prayest!O Eyes of God! O Head!My strength of soul is fled.Gone is heart's force, rebuked is mind's desire!When I behold Thee so,With awful brows a-glow,With burning glance, and lips lighted by fire,Fierce as those flames which shallConsume, at close of all,Earth, Heaven!God is it I did see,This unknown marvel of Thy Form! but fearMingles with joy! Retake,Dear Lord! for pity's sake,Thine earthly shape, which earthly eyes may bear!—("The Song Celestial.")(Sir Edwin Arnold's translation.)
... Gaze, as thy lips have said,On God Eternal, Very God! See me, see what thou prayest!
... Gaze, as thy lips have said,On God Eternal, Very God! See me, see what thou prayest!
O Eyes of God! O Head!My strength of soul is fled.Gone is heart's force, rebuked is mind's desire!When I behold Thee so,With awful brows a-glow,With burning glance, and lips lighted by fire,Fierce as those flames which shallConsume, at close of all,Earth, Heaven!
O Eyes of God! O Head!My strength of soul is fled.Gone is heart's force, rebuked is mind's desire!When I behold Thee so,With awful brows a-glow,With burning glance, and lips lighted by fire,Fierce as those flames which shallConsume, at close of all,Earth, Heaven!
God is it I did see,This unknown marvel of Thy Form! but fearMingles with joy! Retake,Dear Lord! for pity's sake,Thine earthly shape, which earthly eyes may bear!—("The Song Celestial.")(Sir Edwin Arnold's translation.)
God is it I did see,This unknown marvel of Thy Form! but fearMingles with joy! Retake,Dear Lord! for pity's sake,Thine earthly shape, which earthly eyes may bear!—("The Song Celestial.")(Sir Edwin Arnold's translation.)
Min.Let us go; and we will reason by the way.
Sev.As you please.
Fifth Dialogue.
Interlocutors:
Laodomia. Giulia.
Lao.Some other time, oh my sister, thou wilt hear what happened to those nine blind men, who were at first nine most beautiful and amorous youths, who being so inspired by the loveliness of your face, and having no hope of receiving the reward of their love, and fearing that such despair would reduce them to final ruin, went away from the happy Campanian country, and of one accord, those who at first were rivals for your beauty, swore not to separate until they had tried in all possible ways to find something more beautiful than you or at least equal to you; besides which, that they might discover that mercy and pity which they could not find in your breast armed with pride; for they believed this was the only remedy which could bring them out of that cruel captivity. The third day after their solemn departure, as they were passing by the Circean mount, it pleased them togo and see those antiquities, the cave and fane of that goddess. When they were come there, the majesty of the solitary place, the high, storm-beaten rocks, the murmur of the sea waves which break amongst those caves, and many other circumstances of the locality and the season combined, made them feel inspired; and one of them I will tell thee, more bold than the others, spoke these words: "Oh might it please heaven that in these days, as in the past more happy ages, some wise Circe might make herself present who, with plants and minerals working her incantations, would be able to curb nature. I should believe that she, however proud, would surely be pitiful unto our woes. She, solicited by our supplications and laments, would condescend either to give a remedy or to concede a grateful vengeance for the cruelty of our enemy."
Hardly had he finished uttering these words than there became visible to them a palace, which, whoever had knowledge of human things, could easily comprehend that it was not the work of man, nor of nature; the form and manner of it I will explain to thee another time. Whence, filled with great wonder and touched by hope that some propitious deity, who must have placed this before them, would explain their condition and fortunes, they saidwith one accord they could meet with nothing worse than death, which they considered a less evil than to live in so much anguish. Therefore they entered, not finding any door that was shut against them nor janitor who questioned them. They found themselves in a very richly ornamented room, where with royal majesty, (as one may say, Apollo was found again by Phaeton;) appears she, who is called his daughter, and at whose appearance they saw vanish all the figures of many other deities who ministered unto her. Then, received and comforted by this gracious face, they advanced, and overcome by the splendour of that majesty, they bent their knee to the earth, and altogether, with the diversity of tones which their various genius suggested, they laid open their vows to the goddess. By her finally, they were treated in such a manner that, blind and homeless, with great labour having ploughed the seas, passed over rivers, overcome mountains, traversed plains for the space of ten years, and at the end of which time having arrived under that temperate sky of the British Isles, and come into the presence of the lovely, graceful nymphs of Father Thames, they (the nine), having made humble obeisance, and the nymphs having received them with acts of purestcourtesy, one, the principal amongst them, who later on will be named, with tragic and lamenting accents laid bare the common cause in this manner:
Of those, oh gentle Dames, who with closed urn,Present themselves, whose hearts are piercedNot for a fault by nature caused,But through a cruel fate,That in a living death,Does hold them fast, we each and all are blind.Nine spirits are we, wandering many years,Longing to know; and many landsO'ertravelled, one day were surprisedBy a sore accident,To which if you attend,You'll say, oh worthy, oh unhappy lovers!An impious Circe, who presumes to boastOf having for her sire this glorious sun,Welcomed us after many wanderings:Opened a certain urn,With water sprinkled us,And to the sprinkling added an enchantment.Waiting the finish of this work of hersWe all were quiet, mute, attent,Until she said, "Oh ye unhappy ones,Blind be ye all,Gather that fruitThose get who fix their thoughts on things above."Daughter and Mother of horror and darkness and woeThey cried, who sudden were struck blind,It pleased you then, so proud and harsh,To treat these wretched lovers,Who put themselves before you,Ready to consecrate to you their hearts.But when the sudden fury somewhat stayed,Which this new case had brought on them,Each one within himself withdrew,While rage to grief gave place;To her they turned for pity,With chosen words companioning their tears.Now if it please thee, gracious sorceress,If zeal for glory chance to move thy heart,Or milk of kindness soften it,Be merciful to us,And with thy magic herbs,Heal up the wound imprinted on our hearts.If wish to succour rules thy beauteous hand,Make no delay, lest some of usUnhappy ones reach death, ere wePraising thy actCan each one say,So much did she torment, yet more did heal.Then she replied: Oh curious prying minds,Take this my other fatal urn,Which my own hand may not unclose;Over the wide expanse of earth,Wander ye still,Search for and visit all the various kingdoms.Fate hath decreed, it ne'er shall be unclosedTill lofty wisdom, noble chastityAnd loveliness with these combined,Shall set their hands to it;All other efforts vain,To make this fluid open to the sky.Then should it chance to sprinkle beauteous hands,Of those who come anear for remedy,Its god-like virtues you may prove,And turning cruel painInto a sweet content,Two lovely stars upon the earth you'll see.Meanwhile be none of you cast down or sad,Although long while in deep obscurityAll that the heavens contain remain concealed,For good so great as this,No pain, however sharp,Can be accounted worthy of the cost.That Good to which through blindness you are led,Should make appear all other-having, vile,And every torment be as pleasure held,Who, hoping to beholdGraces unique and rare,May hold in high disdain all other lights.Ah, weary ones! Too long, too long our limbsHave wandered o'er the terrene globe,So that to us it seemsAs if the shrewd wild beast,With false and flattering hopes,Our bosoms has encumbered with her wiles.Wretched henceforth, we see, though late, the witchConcerned to keep us all with promises(And for our greater hurt), at bay;For surely she believesNo woman can be foundBeneath the roof of heaven so dowered as she.Now that we know that every hope is vain,We yield to destiny and are content,Nor will withdraw from all our strivings sore;And staying not our steps,Though trembling, tired and vexed,We languish through the days that yet are ours.Oh graceful nymphs, that on the grassy banksOf gentle Thames do make your home,Do not disdain, ye beauteous ones,To try, although in vain,With those white hands of yoursTo uncover that which in our urn is hid.Who knows? perchance it may be on these shores,Where, with the Nereids, may be seenThe rapid torrent from below ascendAnd wind againBack to its source,That heaven has destined there she shall be found.
Of those, oh gentle Dames, who with closed urn,Present themselves, whose hearts are piercedNot for a fault by nature caused,But through a cruel fate,That in a living death,Does hold them fast, we each and all are blind.
Nine spirits are we, wandering many years,Longing to know; and many landsO'ertravelled, one day were surprisedBy a sore accident,To which if you attend,You'll say, oh worthy, oh unhappy lovers!
An impious Circe, who presumes to boastOf having for her sire this glorious sun,Welcomed us after many wanderings:Opened a certain urn,With water sprinkled us,And to the sprinkling added an enchantment.
Waiting the finish of this work of hersWe all were quiet, mute, attent,Until she said, "Oh ye unhappy ones,Blind be ye all,Gather that fruitThose get who fix their thoughts on things above."
Daughter and Mother of horror and darkness and woeThey cried, who sudden were struck blind,It pleased you then, so proud and harsh,To treat these wretched lovers,Who put themselves before you,Ready to consecrate to you their hearts.
But when the sudden fury somewhat stayed,Which this new case had brought on them,Each one within himself withdrew,While rage to grief gave place;To her they turned for pity,With chosen words companioning their tears.
Now if it please thee, gracious sorceress,If zeal for glory chance to move thy heart,Or milk of kindness soften it,Be merciful to us,And with thy magic herbs,Heal up the wound imprinted on our hearts.
If wish to succour rules thy beauteous hand,Make no delay, lest some of usUnhappy ones reach death, ere wePraising thy actCan each one say,So much did she torment, yet more did heal.
Then she replied: Oh curious prying minds,Take this my other fatal urn,Which my own hand may not unclose;Over the wide expanse of earth,Wander ye still,Search for and visit all the various kingdoms.
Fate hath decreed, it ne'er shall be unclosedTill lofty wisdom, noble chastityAnd loveliness with these combined,Shall set their hands to it;All other efforts vain,To make this fluid open to the sky.
Then should it chance to sprinkle beauteous hands,Of those who come anear for remedy,Its god-like virtues you may prove,And turning cruel painInto a sweet content,Two lovely stars upon the earth you'll see.
Meanwhile be none of you cast down or sad,Although long while in deep obscurityAll that the heavens contain remain concealed,For good so great as this,No pain, however sharp,Can be accounted worthy of the cost.
That Good to which through blindness you are led,Should make appear all other-having, vile,And every torment be as pleasure held,Who, hoping to beholdGraces unique and rare,May hold in high disdain all other lights.
Ah, weary ones! Too long, too long our limbsHave wandered o'er the terrene globe,So that to us it seemsAs if the shrewd wild beast,With false and flattering hopes,Our bosoms has encumbered with her wiles.
Wretched henceforth, we see, though late, the witchConcerned to keep us all with promises(And for our greater hurt), at bay;For surely she believesNo woman can be foundBeneath the roof of heaven so dowered as she.
Now that we know that every hope is vain,We yield to destiny and are content,Nor will withdraw from all our strivings sore;And staying not our steps,Though trembling, tired and vexed,We languish through the days that yet are ours.
Oh graceful nymphs, that on the grassy banksOf gentle Thames do make your home,Do not disdain, ye beauteous ones,To try, although in vain,With those white hands of yoursTo uncover that which in our urn is hid.
Who knows? perchance it may be on these shores,Where, with the Nereids, may be seenThe rapid torrent from below ascendAnd wind againBack to its source,That heaven has destined there she shall be found.
One of the nymphs took the urn in her hand, and without trying to do more offered it to one at a time, but not one was found who dared to be the first to try (to open it), but all by common consent, after simply looking at it, referred and proposed it with respect and reverence to one alone; who, finally,not so much to exhibit her own glory as to succour those unhappy ones, and while in a sort of doubt, the urn opened as it were spontaneously of itself. But what shall I say to you of the applause of the nymphs? How can you imagine that I can express the extreme joy of the nine blind men, when, hearing that the urn was open, they felt themselves sprinkled with the desired waters, they opened their eyes and saw the two suns, and felt they had gained a double happiness; one, the having recovered the light they had lost, the other that of the newly discovered light which alone could show them the image of the highest good upon earth. How, I say, can you expect me to describe the joy and exulting merriment of voices of spirit and of body which they themselves all together could not express? For a time it was like seeing so many furious bacchanals, inebriated with that which they saw so plainly, until at last, the impetus of their fury being somewhat calmed, they put themselves in a row.
73.
The first played the guitar and sang the following:
Oh cliffs, oh deeps, oh thorns, oh snags, oh stones,Oh mounts, oh plains, oh valleys, rivers, seas,How dear and sweet you show yourselves,For by your aid and favour,To us the sky's unveiled.Oh fortunate and well-directed steps,
Oh cliffs, oh deeps, oh thorns, oh snags, oh stones,Oh mounts, oh plains, oh valleys, rivers, seas,How dear and sweet you show yourselves,For by your aid and favour,To us the sky's unveiled.Oh fortunate and well-directed steps,
The second with the mandoline played and sang:
Oh fortunate and well-directed steps,Oh goddess Circe, oh transcendent woes,With which ye did afflict us months and years;They were the grace of heaven,For such an end as this,After such weariness and such distress.[AH]
Oh fortunate and well-directed steps,Oh goddess Circe, oh transcendent woes,With which ye did afflict us months and years;They were the grace of heaven,For such an end as this,After such weariness and such distress.[AH]
[AH] For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.—("St. Paul to the Corinthians.")
The third with the lyre played and sang: