Nathan the seer, and metropolitan

Chrysostom, and Anselmus, and DonatusWho deigned to lay his hand to the first art;

Here is Rabanus, and beside me hereShines the Calabrian Abbot Joachim,He with the spirit of prophecy endowed.

To celebrate so great a paladinHave moved me the impassioned courtesyAnd the discreet discourses of Friar Thomas,

And with me they have moved this company.”

Paradiso: Canto XIII

Let him imagine, who would well conceiveWhat now I saw, and let him while I speakRetain the image as a steadfast rock,

The fifteen stars, that in their divers regionsThe sky enliven with a light so greatThat it transcends all clusters of the air;

Let him the Wain imagine unto whichOur vault of heaven sufficeth night and day,So that in turning of its pole it fails not;

Let him the mouth imagine of the hornThat in the point beginneth of the axisRound about which the primal wheel revolves,—

To have fashioned of themselves two signs in heaven,Like unto that which Minos’ daughter made,The moment when she felt the frost of death;

And one to have its rays within the other,And both to whirl themselves in such a mannerThat one should forward go, the other backward;

And he will have some shadowing forth of thatTrue constellation and the double danceThat circled round the point at which I was;

Because it is as much beyond our wont,As swifter than the motion of the ChianaMoveth the heaven that all the rest outspeeds.

There sang they neither Bacchus, nor Apollo,But in the divine nature Persons three,And in one person the divine and human.

The singing and the dance fulfilled their measure,And unto us those holy lights gave need,Growing in happiness from care to care.

Then broke the silence of those saints concordantThe light in which the admirable lifeOf God’s own mendicant was told to me,

And said: “Now that one straw is trodden outNow that its seed is garnered up already,Sweet love invites me to thresh out the other.

Into that bosom, thou believest, whenceWas drawn the rib to form the beauteous cheekWhose taste to all the world is costing dear,

And into that which, by the lance transfixed,Before and since, such satisfaction madeThat it weighs down the balance of all sin,

Whate’er of light it has to human natureBeen lawful to possess was all infusedBy the same power that both of them created;

And hence at what I said above dost wonder,When I narrated that no second hadThe good which in the fifth light is enclosed.

Now ope thine eyes to what I answer thee,And thou shalt see thy creed and my discourseFit in the truth as centre in a circle.

That which can die, and that which dieth not,Are nothing but the splendour of the ideaWhich by his love our Lord brings into being;

Because that living Light, which from its fountEffulgent flows, so that it disunites notFrom Him nor from the Love in them intrined,

Through its own goodness reunites its raysIn nine subsistences, as in a mirror,Itself eternally remaining One.

Thence it descends to the last potencies,Downward from act to act becoming suchThat only brief contingencies it makes;

And these contingencies I hold to beThings generated, which the heaven producesBy its own motion, with seed and without.

Neither their wax, nor that which tempers it,Remains immutable, and hence beneathThe ideal signet more and less shines through;

Therefore it happens, that the selfsame treeAfter its kind bears worse and better fruit,And ye are born with characters diverse.

If in perfection tempered were the wax,And were the heaven in its supremest virtue,The brilliance of the seal would all appear;

But nature gives it evermore deficient,In the like manner working as the artist,Who has the skill of art and hand that trembles.

If then the fervent Love, the Vision clear,Of primal Virtue do dispose and seal,Perfection absolute is there acquired.

Thus was of old the earth created worthyOf all and every animal perfection;And thus the Virgin was impregnate made;

So that thine own opinion I commend,That human nature never yet has been,Nor will be, what it was in those two persons.

Now if no farther forth I should proceed,‘Then in what way was he without a peer?’Would be the first beginning of thy words.

But, that may well appear what now appears not,Think who he was, and what occasion moved himTo make request, when it was told him, ‘Ask.’

I’ve not so spoken that thou canst not seeClearly he was a king who asked for wisdom,That he might be sufficiently a king;

’Twas not to know the number in which areThe motors here above, or if ‘necesse’With a contingent e’er ‘necesse’ make,

‘Non si est dare primum motum esse,’Or if in semicircle can be madeTriangle so that it have no right angle.

Whence, if thou notest this and what I said,A regal prudence is that peerless seeingIn which the shaft of my intention strikes.

And if on ‘rose’ thou turnest thy clear eyes,Thou’lt see that it has reference aloneTo kings who’re many, and the good are rare.

With this distinction take thou what I said,And thus it can consist with thy beliefOf the first father and of our Delight.

And lead shall this be always to thy feet,To make thee, like a weary man, move slowlyBoth to the Yes and No thou seest not;

For very low among the fools is heWho affirms without distinction, or denies,As well in one as in the other case;

Because it happens that full often bendsCurrent opinion in the false direction,And then the feelings bind the intellect.

Far more than uselessly he leaves the shore,(Since he returneth not the same he went,)Who fishes for the truth, and has no skill;

And in the world proofs manifest thereofParmenides, Melissus, Brissus are,And many who went on and knew not whither;

Thus did Sabellius, Arius, and those foolsWho have been even as swords unto the ScripturesIn rendering distorted their straight faces.

Nor yet shall people be too confidentIn judging, even as he is who doth countThe corn in field or ever it be ripe.

For I have seen all winter long the thornFirst show itself intractable and fierce,And after bear the rose upon its top;

And I have seen a ship direct and swiftRun o’er the sea throughout its course entire,To perish at the harbour’s mouth at last.

Let not Dame Bertha nor Ser Martin think,Seeing one steal, another offering make,To see them in the arbitrament divine;

For one may rise, and fall the other may.”

Paradiso: Canto XIV

From centre unto rim, from rim to centre,In a round vase the water moves itself,As from without ’tis struck or from within.

Into my mind upon a sudden droppedWhat I am saying, at the moment whenSilent became the glorious life of Thomas,

Because of the resemblance that was bornOf his discourse and that of Beatrice,Whom, after him, it pleased thus to begin:

“This man has need (and does not tell you so,Nor with the voice, nor even in his thought)Of going to the root of one truth more.

Declare unto him if the light wherewithBlossoms your substance shall remain with youEternally the same that it is now;

And if it do remain, say in what manner,After ye are again made visible,It can be that it injure not your sight.”

As by a greater gladness urged and drawnThey who are dancing in a ring sometimesUplift their voices and their motions quicken;

So, at that orison devout and prompt,The holy circles a new joy displayedIn their revolving and their wondrous song.

Whoso lamenteth him that here we dieThat we may live above, has never thereSeen the refreshment of the eternal rain.

The One and Two and Three who ever liveth,And reigneth ever in Three and Two and One,Not circumscribed and all things circumscribing,

Three several times was chanted by each oneAmong those spirits, with such melodyThat for all merit it were just reward;

And, in the lustre most divine of allThe lesser ring, I heard a modest voice,Such as perhaps the Angel’s was to Mary,

Answer: “As long as the festivityOf Paradise shall be, so long our loveShall radiate round about us such a vesture.

Its brightness is proportioned to the ardour,The ardour to the vision; and the visionEquals what grace it has above its worth.

When, glorious and sanctified, our fleshIs reassumed, then shall our persons beMore pleasing by their being all complete;

For will increase whate’er bestows on usOf light gratuitous the Good Supreme,Light which enables us to look on Him;

Therefore the vision must perforce increase,Increase the ardour which from that is kindled,Increase the radiance which from this proceeds.

But even as a coal that sends forth flame,And by its vivid whiteness overpowers itSo that its own appearance it maintains,

Thus the effulgence that surrounds us nowShall be o’erpowered in aspect by the flesh,Which still to-day the earth doth cover up;

Nor can so great a splendour weary us,For strong will be the organs of the bodyTo everything which hath the power to please us.”

So sudden and alert appeared to meBoth one and the other choir to say Amen,That well they showed desire for their dead bodies;

Nor sole for them perhaps, but for the mothers,The fathers, and the rest who had been dearOr ever they became eternal flames.

And lo! all round about of equal brightnessArose a lustre over what was there,Like an horizon that is clearing up.

And as at rise of early eve beginAlong the welkin new appearances,So that the sight seems real and unreal,

It seemed to me that new subsistencesBegan there to be seen, and make a circleOutside the other two circumferences.

O very sparkling of the Holy Spirit,How sudden and incandescent it becameUnto mine eyes, that vanquished bore it not!

But Beatrice so beautiful and smilingAppeared to me, that with the other sightsThat followed not my memory I must leave her.

Then to uplift themselves mine eyes resumedThe power, and I beheld myself translatedTo higher salvation with my Lady only.

Well was I ware that I was more upliftedBy the enkindled smiling of the star,That seemed to me more ruddy than its wont.

With all my heart, and in that dialectWhich is the same in all, such holocaustTo God I made as the new grace beseemed;

And not yet from my bosom was exhaustedThe ardour of sacrifice, before I knewThis offering was accepted and auspicious;

For with so great a lustre and so redSplendours appeared to me in twofold rays,I said: “O Helios who dost so adorn them!”

Even as distinct with less and greater lightsGlimmers between the two poles of the worldThe Galaxy that maketh wise men doubt,

Thus constellated in the depths of Mars,Those rays described the venerable signThat quadrants joining in a circle make.

Here doth my memory overcome my genius;For on that cross as levin gleamed forth Christ,So that I cannot find ensample worthy;

But he who takes his cross and follows ChristAgain will pardon me what I omit,Seeing in that aurora lighten Christ.

From horn to horn, and ’twixt the top and base,Lights were in motion, brightly scintillatingAs they together met and passed each other;

Thus level and aslant and swift and slowWe here behold, renewing still the sight,The particles of bodies long and short,

Across the sunbeam move, wherewith is listedSometimes the shade, which for their own defencePeople with cunning and with art contrive.

And as a lute and harp, accordant strungWith many strings, a dulcet tinkling makeTo him by whom the notes are not distinguished,

So from the lights that there to me appearedUpgathered through the cross a melody,Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn.

Well was I ware it was of lofty laud,Because there came to me, “Arise and conquer!”As unto him who hears and comprehends not.

So much enamoured I became therewith,That until then there was not anythingThat e’er had fettered me with such sweet bonds.

Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold,Postponing the delight of those fair eyes,Into which gazing my desire has rest;

But who bethinks him that the living sealsOf every beauty grow in power ascending,And that I there had not turned round to those,

Can me excuse, if I myself accuseTo excuse myself, and see that I speak truly:For here the holy joy is not disclosed,

Because ascending it becomes more pure.

Paradiso: Canto XV

A will benign, in which reveals itselfEver the love that righteously inspires,As in the iniquitous, cupidity,

Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre,And quieted the consecrated chords,That Heaven’s right hand doth tighten and relax.

How unto just entreaties shall be deafThose substances, which, to give me desireOf praying them, with one accord grew silent?

’Tis well that without end he should lament,Who for the love of thing that doth not lastEternally despoils him of that love!

As through the pure and tranquil evening airThere shoots from time to time a sudden fire,Moving the eyes that steadfast were before,

And seems to be a star that changeth place,Except that in the part where it is kindledNothing is missed, and this endureth little;

So from the horn that to the right extendsUnto that cross’s foot there ran a starOut of the constellation shining there;

Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon,But down the radiant fillet ran along,So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.

Thus piteous did Anchises’ shade reach forward,If any faith our greatest Muse deserve,When in Elysium he his son perceived.

“O sanguis meus, O superinfusaGratia Dei, sicut tibi, cuiBis unquam Coeli janua reclusa?”

Thus that effulgence; whence I gave it heed;Then round unto my Lady turned my sight,And on this side and that was stupefied;

For in her eyes was burning such a smileThat with mine own methought I touched the bottomBoth of my grace and of my Paradise!

Then, pleasant to the hearing and the sight,The spirit joined to its beginning thingsI understood not, so profound it spake;

Nor did it hide itself from me by choice,But by necessity; for its conceptionAbove the mark of mortals set itself.

And when the bow of burning sympathyWas so far slackened, that its speech descendedTowards the mark of our intelligence,

The first thing that was understood by meWas “Benedight be Thou, O Trine and One,Who hast unto my seed so courteous been!”

And it continued: “Hunger long and grateful,Drawn from the reading of the mighty volumeWherein is never changed the white nor dark,

Thou hast appeased, my son, within this lightIn which I speak to thee, by grace of herWho to this lofty flight with plumage clothed thee.

Thou thinkest that to me thy thought doth passFrom Him who is the first, as from the unit,If that be known, ray out the five and six;

And therefore who I am thou askest not,And why I seem more joyous unto theeThan any other of this gladsome crowd.

Thou think’st the truth; because the small and greatOf this existence look into the mirrorWherein, before thou think’st, thy thought thou showest.

But that the sacred love, in which I watchWith sight perpetual, and which makes me thirstWith sweet desire, may better be fulfilled,

Now let thy voice secure and frank and gladProclaim the wishes, the desire proclaim,To which my answer is decreed already.”

To Beatrice I turned me, and she heardBefore I spake, and smiled to me a sign,That made the wings of my desire increase;

Then in this wise began I: “Love and knowledge,When on you dawned the first Equality,Of the same weight for each of you became;

For in the Sun, which lighted you and burnedWith heat and radiance, they so equal are,That all similitudes are insufficient.

But among mortals will and argument,For reason that to you is manifest,Diversely feathered in their pinions are.

Whence I, who mortal am, feel in myselfThis inequality; so give not thanks,Save in my heart, for this paternal welcome.

Truly do I entreat thee, living topaz!Set in this precious jewel as a gem,That thou wilt satisfy me with thy name.”

“O leaf of mine, in whom I pleasure tookE’en while awaiting, I was thine own root!”Such a beginning he in answer made me.

Then said to me: “That one from whom is namedThy race, and who a hundred years and moreHas circled round the mount on the first cornice,

A son of mine and thy great-grandsire was;Well it behoves thee that the long fatigueThou shouldst for him make shorter with thy works.

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