O thou predestination, how remote

Thy root is from the aspect of all thoseWho the First Cause do not behold entire!

And you, O mortals! hold yourselves restrainedIn judging; for ourselves, who look on God,We do not know as yet all the elect;

And sweet to us is such a deprivation,Because our good in this good is made perfect,That whatsoe’er God wills, we also will.”

After this manner by that shape divine,To make clear in me my short-sightedness,Was given to me a pleasant medicine;

And as good singer a good lutanistAccompanies with vibrations of the chords,Whereby more pleasantness the song acquires,

So, while it spake, do I remember meThat I beheld both of those blessed lights,Even as the winking of the eyes concords,

Moving unto the words their little flames.

Paradiso: Canto XXI

Already on my Lady’s face mine eyesAgain were fastened, and with these my mind,And from all other purpose was withdrawn;

And she smiled not; but “If I were to smile,”She unto me began, “thou wouldst becomeLike Semele, when she was turned to ashes.

Because my beauty, that along the stairsOf the eternal palace more enkindles,As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend,

If it were tempered not, is so resplendentThat all thy mortal power in its effulgenceWould seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes.

We are uplifted to the seventh splendour,That underneath the burning Lion’s breastNow radiates downward mingled with his power.

Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind,And make of them a mirror for the figureThat in this mirror shall appear to thee.”

He who could know what was the pasturageMy sight had in that blessed countenance,When I transferred me to another care,

Would recognize how grateful was to meObedience unto my celestial escort,By counterpoising one side with the other.

Within the crystal which, around the worldRevolving, bears the name of its dear leader,Under whom every wickedness lay dead,

Coloured like gold, on which the sunshine gleams,A stairway I beheld to such a heightUplifted, that mine eye pursued it not.

Likewise beheld I down the steps descendingSo many splendours, that I thought each lightThat in the heaven appears was there diffused.

And as accordant with their natural customThe rooks together at the break of dayBestir themselves to warm their feathers cold;

Then some of them fly off without return,Others come back to where they started from,And others, wheeling round, still keep at home;

Such fashion it appeared to me was thereWithin the sparkling that together came,As soon as on a certain step it struck,

And that which nearest unto us remainedBecame so clear, that in my thought I said,“Well I perceive the love thou showest me;

But she, from whom I wait the how and whenOf speech and silence, standeth still; whence IAgainst desire do well if I ask not.”

She thereupon, who saw my silentnessIn the sight of Him who seeth everything,Said unto me, “Let loose thy warm desire.”

And I began: “No merit of my ownRenders me worthy of response from thee;But for her sake who granteth me the asking,

Thou blessed life that dost remain concealedIn thy beatitude, make known to meThe cause which draweth thee so near my side;

And tell me why is silent in this wheelThe dulcet symphony of Paradise,That through the rest below sounds so devoutly.”

“Thou hast thy hearing mortal as thy sight,”It answer made to me; “they sing not here,For the same cause that Beatrice has not smiled.

Thus far adown the holy stairway’s stepsHave I descended but to give thee welcomeWith words, and with the light that mantles me;

Nor did more love cause me to be more ready,For love as much and more up there is burning,As doth the flaming manifest to thee.

But the high charity, that makes us servantsPrompt to the counsel which controls the world,Allotteth here, even as thou dost observe.”

“I see full well,” said I, “O sacred lamp!How love unfettered in this court sufficethTo follow the eternal Providence;

But this is what seems hard for me to see,Wherefore predestinate wast thou aloneUnto this office from among thy consorts.”

No sooner had I come to the last word,Than of its middle made the light a centre,Whirling itself about like a swift millstone.

When answer made the love that was therein:“On me directed is a light divine,Piercing through this in which I am embosomed,

Of which the virtue with my sight conjoinedLifts me above myself so far, I seeThe supreme essence from which this is drawn.

Hence comes the joyfulness with which I flame,For to my sight, as far as it is clear,The clearness of the flame I equal make.

But that soul in the heaven which is most pure,That seraph which his eye on God most fixes,Could this demand of thine not satisfy;

Because so deeply sinks in the abyssOf the eternal statute what thou askest,From all created sight it is cut off.

And to the mortal world, when thou returnest,This carry back, that it may not presumeLonger tow’rd such a goal to move its feet.

The mind, that shineth here, on earth doth smoke;From this observe how can it do belowThat which it cannot though the heaven assume it?”

Such limit did its words prescribe to me,The question I relinquished, and restrictedMyself to ask it humbly who it was.

“Between two shores of Italy rise cliffs,And not far distant from thy native place,So high, the thunders far below them sound,

And form a ridge that Catria is called,’Neath which is consecrate a hermitageWont to be dedicate to worship only.”

Thus unto me the third speech recommenced,And then, continuing, it said: “ThereinUnto God’s service I became so steadfast,

That feeding only on the juice of olivesLightly I passed away the heats and frosts,Contented in my thoughts contemplative.

That cloister used to render to these heavensAbundantly, and now is empty grown,So that perforce it soon must be revealed.

I in that place was Peter Damiano;And Peter the Sinner was I in the houseOf Our Lady on the Adriatic shore.

Little of mortal life remained to me,When I was called and dragged forth to the hatWhich shifteth evermore from bad to worse.

Came Cephas, and the mighty Vessel cameOf the Holy Spirit, meagre and barefooted,Taking the food of any hostelry.

Now some one to support them on each sideThe modern shepherds need, and some to lead them,So heavy are they, and to hold their trains.

They cover up their palfreys with their cloaks,So that two beasts go underneath one skin;O Patience, that dost tolerate so much!”

At this voice saw I many little flamesFrom step to step descending and revolving,And every revolution made them fairer.

Round about this one came they and stood still,And a cry uttered of so loud a sound,It here could find no parallel, nor I

Distinguished it, the thunder so o’ercame me.

Paradiso: Canto XXII

Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guideTurned like a little child who always runsFor refuge there where he confideth most;

And she, even as a mother who straightwayGives comfort to her pale and breathless boyWith voice whose wont it is to reassure him,

Said to me: “Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,And knowest thou not that heaven is holy allAnd what is done here cometh from good zeal?

After what wise the singing would have changed theeAnd I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,Since that the cry has startled thee so much,

In which if thou hadst understood its prayersAlready would be known to thee the vengeanceWhich thou shalt look upon before thou diest.

The sword above here smiteth not in hasteNor tardily, howe’er it seem to himWho fearing or desiring waits for it.

But turn thee round towards the others now,For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,If thou thy sight directest as I say.”

As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,And saw a hundred spherules that togetherWith mutual rays each other more embellished.

I stood as one who in himself repressesThe point of his desire, and ventures notTo question, he so feareth the too much.

And now the largest and most luculentAmong those pearls came forward, that it mightMake my desire concerning it content.

Within it then I heard: “If thou couldst seeEven as myself the charity that burnsAmong us, thy conceits would be expressed;

But, that by waiting thou mayst not come lateTo the high end, I will make answer evenUnto the thought of which thou art so chary.

That mountain on whose slope Cassino standsWas frequented of old upon its summitBy a deluded folk and ill-disposed;

And I am he who first up thither boreThe name of Him who brought upon the earthThe truth that so much sublimateth us.

And such abundant grace upon me shoneThat all the neighbouring towns I drew awayFrom the impious worship that seduced the world.

These other fires, each one of them, were menContemplative, enkindled by that heatWhich maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.

Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,Here are my brethren, who within the cloistersTheir footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart.”

And I to him: “The affection which thou showestSpeaking with me, and the good countenanceWhich I behold and note in all your ardours,

In me have so my confidence dilatedAs the sun doth the rose, when it becomesAs far unfolded as it hath the power.

Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,If I may so much grace receive, that IMay thee behold with countenance unveiled.”

He thereupon: “Brother, thy high desireIn the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,Where are fulfilled all others and my own.

There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,Every desire; within that one aloneIs every part where it has always been;

For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,And unto it our stairway reaches up,Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.

Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw itExtending its supernal part, what timeSo thronged with angels it appeared to him.

But to ascend it now no one upliftsHis feet from off the earth, and now my RuleBelow remaineth for mere waste of paper.

The walls that used of old to be an AbbeyAre changed to dens of robbers, and the cowlsAre sacks filled full of miserable flour.

But heavy usury is not taken upSo much against God’s pleasure as that fruitWhich maketh so insane the heart of monks;

For whatsoever hath the Church in keepingIs for the folk that ask it in God’s name,Not for one’s kindred or for something worse.

The flesh of mortals is so very soft,That good beginnings down below suffice notFrom springing of the oak to bearing acorns.

Peter began with neither gold nor silver,And I with orison and abstinence,And Francis with humility his convent.

And if thou lookest at each one’s beginning,And then regardest whither he has run,Thou shalt behold the white changed into brown.

In verity the Jordan backward turned,And the sea’s fleeing, when God willed were moreA wonder to behold, than succour here.”

Thus unto me he said; and then withdrewTo his own band, and the band closed together;Then like a whirlwind all was upward rapt.

The gentle Lady urged me on behind themUp o’er that stairway by a single sign,So did her virtue overcome my nature;

Nor here below, where one goes up and downBy natural law, was motion e’er so swiftThat it could be compared unto my wing.

Reader, as I may unto that devoutTriumph return, on whose account I oftenFor my transgressions weep and beat my breast,—

Thou hadst not thrust thy finger in the fireAnd drawn it out again, before I sawThe sign that follows Taurus, and was in it.

O glorious stars, O light impregnatedWith mighty virtue, from which I acknowledgeAll of my genius, whatsoe’er it be,

With you was born, and hid himself with you,He who is father of all mortal life,When first I tasted of the Tuscan air;

And then when grace was freely given to meTo enter the high wheel which turns you round,Your region was allotted unto me.

To you devoutly at this hour my soulIs sighing, that it virtue may acquireFor the stern pass that draws it to itself.

“Thou art so near unto the last salvation,”Thus Beatrice began, “thou oughtest nowTo have thine eves unclouded and acute;

And therefore, ere thou enter farther in,Look down once more, and see how vast a worldThou hast already put beneath thy feet;

So that thy heart, as jocund as it may,Present itself to the triumphant throngThat comes rejoicing through this rounded ether.”

I with my sight returned through one and allThe sevenfold spheres, and I beheld this globeSuch that I smiled at its ignoble semblance;

And that opinion I approve as bestWhich doth account it least; and he who thinksOf something else may truly be called just.

I saw the daughter of Latona shiningWithout that shadow, which to me was causeThat once I had believed her rare and dense.

The aspect of thy son, Hyperion,Here I sustained, and saw how move themselvesAround and near him Maia and Dione.

Thence there appeared the temperateness of Jove’Twixt son and father, and to me was clearThe change that of their whereabout they make;

And all the seven made manifest to meHow great they are, and eke how swift they are,And how they are in distant habitations.

The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,To me revolving with the eternal Twins,Was all apparent made from hill to harbour!

Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes I turned.

Paradiso: Canto XXIII

Even as a bird, ’mid the beloved leaves,Quiet upon the nest of her sweet broodThroughout the night, that hideth all things from us,

Who, that she may behold their longed-for looksAnd find the food wherewith to nourish them,In which, to her, grave labours grateful are,

Anticipates the time on open sprayAnd with an ardent longing waits the sun,Gazing intent as soon as breaks the dawn:

Even thus my Lady standing was, erectAnd vigilant, turned round towards the zoneUnderneath which the sun displays less haste;

So that beholding her distraught and wistful,Such I became as he is who desiringFor something yearns, and hoping is appeased.

But brief the space from one When to the other;Of my awaiting, say I, and the seeingThe welkin grow resplendent more and more.

And Beatrice exclaimed: “Behold the hostsOf Christ’s triumphal march, and all the fruitHarvested by the rolling of these spheres!”

It seemed to me her face was all aflame;And eyes she had so full of ecstasyThat I must needs pass on without describing.

As when in nights serene of the full moonSmiles Trivia among the nymphs eternalWho paint the firmament through all its gulfs,

Saw I, above the myriads of lamps,A Sun that one and all of them enkindled,E’en as our own doth the supernal sights,

And through the living light transparent shoneThe lucent substance so intensely clearInto my sight, that I sustained it not.

O Beatrice, thou gentle guide and dear!To me she said: “What overmasters theeA virtue is from which naught shields itself.

There are the wisdom and the omnipotenceThat oped the thoroughfares ’twixt heaven and earth,For which there erst had been so long a yearning.”

As fire from out a cloud unlocks itself,Dilating so it finds not room therein,And down, against its nature, falls to earth,

So did my mind, among those alimentsBecoming larger, issue from itself,And that which it became cannot remember.

“Open thine eyes, and look at what I am:Thou hast beheld such things, that strong enoughHast thou become to tolerate my smile.”

I was as one who still retains the feelingOf a forgotten vision, and endeavoursIn vain to bring it back into his mind,

When I this invitation heard, deservingOf so much gratitude, it never fadesOut of the book that chronicles the past.

If at this moment sounded all the tonguesThat Polyhymnia and her sisters madeMost lubrical with their delicious milk,

To aid me, to a thousandth of the truthIt would not reach, singing the holy smileAnd how the holy aspect it illumed.

And therefore, representing Paradise,The sacred poem must perforce leap over,Even as a man who finds his way cut off;

But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme,And of the mortal shoulder laden with it,Should blame it not, if under this it tremble.

It is no passage for a little boatThis which goes cleaving the audacious prow,Nor for a pilot who would spare himself.

“Why doth my face so much enamour thee,That to the garden fair thou turnest not,Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?

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