The Divine Comedy - The Original Classic Edition. Dante Dante

much increase The fervour, which it kindles; and that too The ray, that comes from it. But as the greed

       Which gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shines

       More lively than that, and so preserves

       Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere Of splendour, shall to view less radiant seem, Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth Now covers. Nor will such excess of light O'erpower us, in corporeal organs made

       Firm, and susceptible of all delight."

       So ready and so cordial an "Amen,"

       Followed from either choir, as plainly spoke

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       Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance

       Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear, Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov'd, Ere they were made imperishable flame.

       And lo! forthwith there rose up round about

       A lustre over that already there,

       Of equal clearness, like the brightening up

       Of the horizon. As at an evening hour

       Of twilight, new appearances through heav'n Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried; So there new substances, methought began To rise in view; and round the other twain Enwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.

       O gentle glitter of eternal beam!

       With what a such whiteness did it flow, O'erpowering vision in me! But so fair, So passing lovely, Beatrice show'd,

       Mind cannot follow it, nor words express

       Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain'd

       Power to look up, and I beheld myself, Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss Translated: for the star, with warmer smile Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.

       With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks

       The same in all, an holocaust I made

       To God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf 'd.

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       And from my bosom had not yet upsteam'd The fuming of that incense, when I knew The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen And mantling crimson, in two listed rays

       The splendours shot before me, that I cried, "God of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!"

       As leads the galaxy from pole to pole, Distinguish'd into greater lights and less, Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell; So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars, Those rays describ'd the venerable sign,

       That quadrants in the round conjoining frame. Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ Beam'd on that cross; and pattern fails me now. But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ Will pardon me for that I leave untold,

       When in the flecker'd dawning he shall spy The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn, And 'tween the summit and the base did move Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass'd. Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance, Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, The atomies of bodies, long or short,

       To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line Checkers the shadow, interpos'd by art Against the noontide heat. And as the chime

       Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and help

       With many strings, a pleasant dining makes

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       To him, who heareth not distinct the note;

       So from the lights, which there appear'd to me, Gather'd along the cross a melody,

       That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment Possess'd me. Yet I mark'd it was a hymn Of lofty praises; for there came to me "Arise and conquer," as to one who hears And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy

       O'ercame, that never till that hour was thing

       That held me in so sweet imprisonment.

       Perhaps my saying over bold appears, Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes, Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.

       But he, who is aware those living seals

       Of every beauty work with quicker force, The higher they are ris'n; and that there

       I had not turn'd me to them; he may well

       Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse

       I do accuse me, and may own my truth; That holy pleasure here not yet reveal'd, Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.

       CANTO XV

       True love, that ever shows itself as clear

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       In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'd

       The sacred chords, that are by heav'n's right hand Unwound and tighten'd, flow to righteous prayers Should they not hearken, who, to give me will

       For praying, in accordance thus were mute?

       He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief, Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, Despoils himself forever of that love.

       As oft along the still and pure serene,

       At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire,

       Attracting with involuntary heed

       The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest,

       And seems some star that shifted place in heav'n, Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost,

       And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn, That on the dexter of the cross extends, Down to its foot, one luminary ran

       From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem Dropp'd from its foil; and through the beamy list Like flame in alabaster, glow'd its course.

       So forward stretch'd him (if of credence aught Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost Of old Anchises, in the' Elysian bower,

       When he perceiv'd his son. "O thou, my blood!

       O most exceeding grace divine! to whom,

       As now to thee, hath twice the heav'nly gate

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       Been e'er unclos'd?" so spake the light; whence I Turn'd me toward him; then unto my dame

       My sight directed, and on either side

       Amazement waited me; for in her eyes

       Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine

       Had div'd unto the bottom of my grace And of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith To hearing and to sight grateful alike, The spirit to his proem added things

       I understood not, so profound he spake; Yet not of choice but through necessity Mysterious; for his high conception scar'd Beyond the mark of mortals. When the flight Of holy transport had so spent its rage,

       That nearer to the level of our thought

       The speech descended, the first sounds I heard

       Were, "Best he thou, Triunal Deity!

       That hast such favour in my seed vouchsaf 'd!" Then follow'd: "No unpleasant thirst, tho' long, Which took me reading in the sacred book, Whose leaves or white or dusky never change, Thou hast allay'd, my son, within this light,

       From whence my voice thou hear'st; more thanks to her. Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes

       Begirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me

       From him transmitted, who is first of all,

       E'en as all numbers ray from unity;

       And therefore dost not ask me who I am,

       Or why to thee more joyous I appear,

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       Than any other in this gladsome throng. The truth is as thou deem'st; for in this hue Both less and greater in that mirror look,

       In which thy thoughts, or ere thou think'st, are shown. But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever, Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire,

       May be contended fully,