Canto XXXIII

“Thou Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son,¹Humble and high beyond all other creature,The limit fixed of the eternal counsel,Thou art the one who such nobilityTo human nature gave, that its CreatorDid not disdain to make himself its creature.Within thy womb rekindled was the love,By heat of which in the eternal peaceAfter such wise this flower has germinated.Here unto us thou art a noonday torchOf charity, and below there among mortalsThou art the living fountainhead 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 succorTo him who asketh it, but oftentimesForerunneth of its own accord the asking.In thee compassion is, in thee is pity,In thee magnificence; in thee unitesWhate’er of goodness is in any creature.Now doth this man, who from the lowest depthOf the universe as far as here has seenOne after one the spiritual lives,Supplicate thee through grace for so much powerThat with his eyes he may uplift himselfHigher towards the uttermost salvation.And I, who never burned for my own seeingMore than I do for his, all of my prayersProffer to thee, and pray they come not short,That thou wouldst scatter from him every cloudOf his mortality so with thy prayers,That the Chief Pleasure be to him displayed.Still farther do I pray thee, Queen, who canstWhate’er thou wilt, that sound thou mayst preserveAfter so great a vision his affections.²Let thy protection conquer human movements;See Beatrice and all the blessed onesMy prayers to second clasp their hands to thee!”The eyes beloved and revered of God,Fastened upon the speaker, showed to usHow grateful unto her are prayers devout;Then unto the Eternal Light they turned,On which it is not credible could beBy any creature bent an eye so clear.And I, who to the end of all desiresWas now approaching, even as I oughtThe ardor of desire within me ended.³Bernard was beckoning unto me, and smiling,That I should upward look; but I alreadyWas of my own accord such as he wished;Because my sight, becoming purified,Was entering more and more into the rayOf the High Light which of itself is true.From that time forward what I saw was greaterThan 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 passionRemains, and to his mind the rest returns not,Even such am I, for almost utterlyCeases my vision, and distilleth yetWithin my heart the sweetness born of it;Even thus the snow is in the sun unsealed,Even thus upon the wind in the light leavesWere the soothsayings of the Sibyl lost.⁴O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift theeFrom the conceits of mortals, to my mindOf what thou didst appear re-lend a little,And make my tongue of so great puissance,That but a single sparkle of thy gloryIt 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 rayWhich I endured would have bewildered me,If but mine eyes had been averted from it;⁵And I remember that I was more boldOn this account to bear, so that I joinedMy aspect with the Glory Infinite.O grace abundant, by which I presumedTo fix my sight upon the Light Eternal,So that the seeing I consumed therein!I saw that in its depth far down is lyingBound up with love together in one volume,⁶What through the universe in leaves is scattered;Substance, and accident, and their operations,All interfused together in such wiseThat what I speak of is one simple light.⁷The universal fashion of this knotMethinks I saw, since more abundantlyIn saying this I feel that I rejoice.One moment is more lethargy to me,⁸Than five and twenty centuries to the empriseThat 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 prospectIt is impossible he e’er consent;Because the good, which object is of will,⁹Is gathered all in this, and out of itThat is defective which is perfect there.Shorter henceforward will my language fallOf what I yet remember, than an infant’sWho still his tongue doth moisten at the breast.Not because more than one unmingled semblanceWas in the living light on which I looked,For it is always what it was before;But through the sight, that fortified itselfIn me by looking, one appearance onlyTo me was ever changing as I changed.¹⁰Within the deep and luminous subsistence¹¹Of the High Light appeared to me three circles,¹²Of threefold color and of one dimension,And by the second seemed the first reflectedAs Iris is by Iris, and the thirdSeemed fire that equally from both is breathed.O how all speech is feeble and falls shortOf my conceit, and this to what I sawIs such, ’tis not enough to call it little!O Light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest,Sole knowest thyself, and, known unto thyselfAnd knowing, lovest and smilest on thyself!That circulation, which being thus conceivedAppeared in thee as a reflected light,¹³When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes,Within itself, of its own very colorSeemed to me painted with our effigy,¹⁴Wherefore my sight was all absorbed therein.As the geometrician, who endeavorsTo 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 circleConformed 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 smoteA flash of lightning, wherein came its wish.¹⁵Here vigor failed the lofty fantasy:But now was turning my desire and will,Even as a wheel that equally is moved,¹⁶The Love which moves the sun and the other stars.¹⁷