Paradiso: Canto XXXIII
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"Thou
Virgin Mother,
daughter of thy
Son,
Humble and high beyond all other
creature,
The limit fixed of the eternal
counsel,
Thou art the one who such nobility
To human nature gave, that its
Creator
Did not disdain to make himself its
creature.
Within thy womb rekindled was the love,
By heat of which in the eternal peace
After such wise this flower has
germinated.
Here unto us thou art a noonday torch
Of charity, and below there among mortals
Thou art the living
fountain-head of
hope.
Lady, thou art so great, and so prevailing,
That he who wishes grace, nor runs to thee,
His aspirations without wings would fly.
Not only thy
benignity gives
succour
To him who asketh it, but
oftentimes
Forerunneth of its own accord the
asking.
In thee
compassion is, in thee is
pity,
In thee
magnificence; in thee
unites
Whate'er of
goodness is in any
creature.
Now doth this man, who from the lowest depth
Of the
universe as far as here has seen
One after one the spiritual lives,
Supplicate thee through grace for so much power
That with his eyes he may uplift himself
Higher towards the
uttermost salvation.
And I, who never
burned for my own seeing
More than I do for his, all of my prayers
Proffer to thee, and pray they come not short,
That thou wouldst scatter from him every cloud
Of his mortality so with thy
prayers,
That the
Chief Pleasure be to him
displayed.
Still farther do I pray thee,
Queen, who canst
Whate'er thou wilt, that sound thou mayst
preserve
After so great a vision his
affections.
Let thy protection conquer human movements;
See
Beatrice and all the blessed ones
My prayers to second clasp their hands to thee!"
The eyes beloved and revered of
God,
Fastened upon the speaker, showed to us
How grateful unto her are prayers devout;
Then unto the
Eternal Light they turned,
On which it is not credible could be
By any creature bent an eye so clear.
And I, who to the end of all desires
Was now approaching, even as I ought
The ardour of desire within me ended.
Bernard was beckoning unto me, and smiling,
That I should upward look; but I already
Was of my own accord such as he wished;
Because my sight, becoming purified,
Was entering more and more into the ray
Of the
High Light which of
itself is true.
From that time forward what I saw was greater
Than our discourse, that to such vision yields,
And yields the memory unto such excess.
Even as he is who seeth in a dream,
And after dreaming the imprinted passion
Remains, and to his mind the rest returns not,
Even such am I, for almost utterly
Ceases my vision, and
distilleth yet
Within my heart the
sweetness born of it;
Even thus the snow is in the sun unsealed,
Even thus upon the wind in the light leaves
Were the
soothsayings of the Sibyl lost.
O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift thee
From the conceits of mortals, to my mind
Of what thou didst
appear re-lend a little,
And make my tongue of so great
puissance,
That but a single sparkle of thy
Glory
It may bequeath unto the future people;
For by returning to my memory somewhat,
And by a little sounding in these verses,
More of thy victory shall be conceived!
I think the keenness of the living ray
Which I endured would have bewildered me,
If but mine eyes had been averted from it;
And I
remember that I was more bold
On this account to bear, so that I joined
My aspect with the
Glory Infinite.
O grace
abundant, by which I presumed
To fix my sight upon the
Light Eternal,
So that the seeing I consumed therein!
I saw that in its
depth far down is lying
Bound up with love
together in one volume,
What through the
universe in leaves is
scattered;
Substance, and accident, and their operations,
All interfused together in such wise
That what I speak of is one simple light.
The universal fashion of this knot
Methinks I saw, since more abundantly
In saying this I
feel that I
rejoice.
One moment is more
lethargy to me,
Than five and
twenty centuries to the
emprise
That startled
Neptune with the shade of
Argo!
My mind in this wise wholly in suspense,
Steadfast, immovable,
attentive gazed,
And evermore with gazing grew
enkindled.
In presence of that light one such becomes,
That to withdraw therefrom for other prospect
It is impossible he e'er
consent;
Because the good, which object is of will,
Is gathered all in this, and out of it
That is defective which is perfect there.
Shorter henceforward will my language fall
Of what I yet
remember, than an infant's
Who still his
tongue doth
moisten at the
breast.
Not because more than one unmingled semblance
Was in the living light on which I looked,
For it is always what it was
before;
But through the sight, that
fortified itself
In me by looking, one appearance only
To me was ever changing as I changed.
Within the deep and
luminous subsistence
Of the High Light appeared to me three
circles,
Of threefold colour and of one
dimension,
And by the
second seemed the first
reflected
As Iris is by Iris, and the third
Seemed fire that
equally from both is
breathed.
O how all speech is feeble and
falls short
Of my conceit, and this to what I saw
Is such, 'tis not enough to call it little!
O Light
Eterne, sole in thyself that
dwellest,
Sole
knowest thyself, and, known unto thyself
And
knowing, lovest and
smilest on thyself!
That
circulation, which being thus
conceived
Appeared in thee as a reflected light,
When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes,
Within itself, of its own very
colour
Seemed to me painted with our effigy,
Wherefore my sight was all
absorbed therein.
As the
geometrician, who
endeavours
To
square the circle, and
discovers not,
By taking thought, the principle
he wants,
Even such was I at that new apparition;
I
wished to see how the image to the circle
Conformed itself, and how it there finds place;
But my own
wings were not enough for this,
Had it not been that then my mind there smote
A flash of
lightning, wherein came its wish.
Here
vigour failed the lofty fantasy:
But now was turning my desire and will,
Even as a wheel that equally is moved,
The Love which moves the sun and the other stars.
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