CANTO IIIThat sun, which erst with love my bosom warm’dHad of fair truth unveil’d the sweet aspect,By proof of right, and of the false reproof;And I, to own myself convinc’d and freeOf doubt, as much as needed, rais’d my headErect for speech. But soon a sight appear’d,Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix’d,That of confession I no longer thought.As through translucent and smooth glass, or waveClear and unmov’d, and flowing not so deepAs that its bed is dark, the shape returnsSo faint of our impictur’d lineaments,That on white forehead set a pearl as strongComes to the eye: such saw I many a face,All stretch’d to speak, from whence I straight conceiv’dDelusion opposite to that, which rais’dBetween the man and fountain, amorous flame.Sudden, as I perceiv’d them, deeming theseReflected semblances to see of whomThey were, I turn’d mine eyes, and nothing saw;Then turn’d them back, directed on the lightOf my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beamsFrom her celestial eyes. “Wonder not thou,”She cry’d, “at this my smiling, when I seeThy childish judgment; since not yet on truthIt rests the foot, but, as it still is wont,Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.True substances are these, which thou behold’st,Hither through failure of their vow exil’d.But speak thou with them; listen, and believe,That the true light, which fills them with desire,Permits not from its beams their feet to stray.”Straight to the shadow which for converse seem’dMost earnest, I addressed me, and began,As one by over-eagerness perplex’d:“O spirit, born for joy! who in the raysOf life eternal, of that sweetness know’stThe flavour, which, not tasted, passes farAll apprehension, me it well would please,If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and thisYour station here.” Whence she, with kindness prompt,And eyes glist’ning with smiles: “Our charity,To any wish by justice introduc’d,Bars not the door, no more than she above,Who would have all her court be like herself.I was a virgin sister in the earth;And if thy mind observe me well, this form,With such addition grac’d of loveliness,Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt knowPiccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac’d,Here ’mid these other blessed also blest.Our hearts, whose high affections burn aloneWith pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv’d,Admitted to his order dwell in joy.And this condition, which appears so low,Is for this cause assign’d us, that our vowsWere in some part neglected and made void.”Whence I to her replied: “Something divineBeams in your countenance, wond’rous fair,From former knowledge quite transmuting you.Therefore to recollect was I so slow.But what thou sayst hath to my memoryGiven now such aid, that to retrace your formsIs easier. Yet inform me, ye, who hereAre happy, long ye for a higher placeMore to behold, and more in love to dwell?”She with those other spirits gently smil’d,Then answer’d with such gladness, that she seem’dWith love’s first flame to glow: “Brother! our willIs in composure settled by the powerOf charity, who makes us will aloneWhat we possess, and nought beyond desire;If we should wish to be exalted more,Then must our wishes jar with the high willOf him, who sets us here, which in these orbsThou wilt confess not possible, if hereTo be in charity must needs befall,And if her nature well thou contemplate.Rather it is inherent in this stateOf blessedness, to keep ourselves withinThe divine will, by which our wills with hisAre one. So that as we from step to stepAre plac’d throughout this kingdom, pleases all,E’en as our King, who in us plants his will;And in his will is our tranquillity;It is the mighty ocean, whither tendsWhatever it creates and nature makes.”Then saw I clearly how each spot in heav’nIs Paradise, though with like gracious dewThe supreme virtue show’r not over all.But as it chances, if one sort of foodHath satiated, and of another stillThe appetite remains, that this is ask’d,And thanks for that return’d; e’en so did IIn word and motion, bent from her to learnWhat web it was, through which she had not drawnThe shuttle to its point. She thus began:“Exalted worth and perfectness of lifeThe Lady higher up enshrine in heaven,By whose pure laws upon your nether earthThe robe and veil they wear, to that intent,That e’en till death they may keep watch or sleepWith their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow,Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms.from the world, to follow her, when youngEscap’d; and, in her vesture mantling me,Made promise of the way her sect enjoins.Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt,Forth snatch’d me from the pleasant cloister’s pale.God knows how after that my life was fram’d.This other splendid shape, which thou beholdstAt my right side, burning with all the lightOf this our orb, what of myself I tellMay to herself apply. From her, like meA sister, with like violence were tornThe saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows.E’en when she to the world again was broughtIn spite of her own will and better wont,Yet not for that the bosom’s inward veilDid she renounce. This is the luminaryOf mighty Constance, who from that loud blast,Which blew the second over Suabia’s realm,That power produc’d, which was the third and last.”She ceas’d from further talk, and then began“Ave Maria” singing, and with that songVanish’d, as heavy substance through deep wave.Mine eye, that far as it was capable,Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost,Turn’d to the mark where greater want impell’d,And bent on Beatrice all its gaze.But she as light’ning beam’d upon my looks:So that the sight sustain’d it not at first.Whence I to question her became less prompt.
That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm’dHad of fair truth unveil’d the sweet aspect,By proof of right, and of the false reproof;And I, to own myself convinc’d and freeOf doubt, as much as needed, rais’d my headErect for speech. But soon a sight appear’d,Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix’d,That of confession I no longer thought.
As through translucent and smooth glass, or waveClear and unmov’d, and flowing not so deepAs that its bed is dark, the shape returnsSo faint of our impictur’d lineaments,That on white forehead set a pearl as strongComes to the eye: such saw I many a face,All stretch’d to speak, from whence I straight conceiv’dDelusion opposite to that, which rais’dBetween the man and fountain, amorous flame.Sudden, as I perceiv’d them, deeming theseReflected semblances to see of whomThey were, I turn’d mine eyes, and nothing saw;Then turn’d them back, directed on the lightOf my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beamsFrom her celestial eyes. “Wonder not thou,”She cry’d, “at this my smiling, when I seeThy childish judgment; since not yet on truthIt rests the foot, but, as it still is wont,Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.True substances are these, which thou behold’st,Hither through failure of their vow exil’d.But speak thou with them; listen, and believe,That the true light, which fills them with desire,Permits not from its beams their feet to stray.”Straight to the shadow which for converse seem’dMost earnest, I addressed me, and began,As one by over-eagerness perplex’d:“O spirit, born for joy! who in the raysOf life eternal, of that sweetness know’stThe flavour, which, not tasted, passes farAll apprehension, me it well would please,If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and thisYour station here.” Whence she, with kindness prompt,And eyes glist’ning with smiles: “Our charity,To any wish by justice introduc’d,Bars not the door, no more than she above,Who would have all her court be like herself.I was a virgin sister in the earth;And if thy mind observe me well, this form,With such addition grac’d of loveliness,Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt knowPiccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac’d,Here ’mid these other blessed also blest.Our hearts, whose high affections burn aloneWith pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv’d,Admitted to his order dwell in joy.And this condition, which appears so low,Is for this cause assign’d us, that our vowsWere in some part neglected and made void.”Whence I to her replied: “Something divineBeams in your countenance, wond’rous fair,From former knowledge quite transmuting you.Therefore to recollect was I so slow.But what thou sayst hath to my memoryGiven now such aid, that to retrace your formsIs easier. Yet inform me, ye, who hereAre happy, long ye for a higher placeMore to behold, and more in love to dwell?”She with those other spirits gently smil’d,Then answer’d with such gladness, that she seem’dWith love’s first flame to glow: “Brother! our willIs in composure settled by the powerOf charity, who makes us will aloneWhat we possess, and nought beyond desire;If we should wish to be exalted more,Then must our wishes jar with the high willOf him, who sets us here, which in these orbsThou wilt confess not possible, if hereTo be in charity must needs befall,And if her nature well thou contemplate.Rather it is inherent in this stateOf blessedness, to keep ourselves withinThe divine will, by which our wills with hisAre one. So that as we from step to stepAre plac’d throughout this kingdom, pleases all,E’en as our King, who in us plants his will;And in his will is our tranquillity;It is the mighty ocean, whither tendsWhatever it creates and nature makes.”Then saw I clearly how each spot in heav’nIs Paradise, though with like gracious dewThe supreme virtue show’r not over all.But as it chances, if one sort of foodHath satiated, and of another stillThe appetite remains, that this is ask’d,And thanks for that return’d; e’en so did IIn word and motion, bent from her to learnWhat web it was, through which she had not drawnThe shuttle to its point. She thus began:“Exalted worth and perfectness of lifeThe Lady higher up enshrine in heaven,By whose pure laws upon your nether earthThe robe and veil they wear, to that intent,That e’en till death they may keep watch or sleepWith their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow,Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms.from the world, to follow her, when youngEscap’d; and, in her vesture mantling me,Made promise of the way her sect enjoins.Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt,Forth snatch’d me from the pleasant cloister’s pale.God knows how after that my life was fram’d.This other splendid shape, which thou beholdstAt my right side, burning with all the lightOf this our orb, what of myself I tellMay to herself apply. From her, like meA sister, with like violence were tornThe saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows.E’en when she to the world again was broughtIn spite of her own will and better wont,Yet not for that the bosom’s inward veilDid she renounce. This is the luminaryOf mighty Constance, who from that loud blast,Which blew the second over Suabia’s realm,That power produc’d, which was the third and last.”She ceas’d from further talk, and then began“Ave Maria” singing, and with that songVanish’d, as heavy substance through deep wave.Mine eye, that far as it was capable,Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost,Turn’d to the mark where greater want impell’d,And bent on Beatrice all its gaze.But she as light’ning beam’d upon my looks:So that the sight sustain’d it not at first.Whence I to question her became less prompt.