Paradiso: Canto X

Gazing upon His Son, with that high Love
Which each alike breathes forth eternally,
The first great Power, all human speech above,'

Whatever in mind or place revolves on high.
Made with such order. that who looks thereon
Can never fail to taste His majesty.

Look thou with me, O Reader — look straight on
To those high spheres, and chiefly to the part
Where the two movements intersecting run,

And there begin to revel in the art
Of that Workmaster, who doth love it so
Within Himself, His eyes ne'er from it part.

See how from thence the path oblique doth go
Of that great circle which the stars doth bear
To satisfy the world that seeks to know.

And if their path did Hot thus wind and veer,
Much of Heaven's virtue would be spent in vain,
And every power below would feel death near.

And should it distance more or less attain
From the straight line, then much were incomplete,
Above, below, throughout the world's domain.

Now, Reader, sit thou still upon thy seat.
Musing o'er that which doth full meal precede.
If thou would'st rather joy than tedium meet.

I serve the meal; thyself from henceforth feed;
Because the subject whereof now I write
My whole attention for itself will need.

The minister of Nature, chief in might.
Who on the world imprints Heaven's virtue great.
And measures time's succession with its light,

Arriving at the point I named of late.
Was circling forward, in the spites whereon
Each hour it doth to us approximate;

And I was with him; yet had knowledge none
Of that ascent, except as one doth know,
Just as it comes, the thought he lighteth on.

'Tis Beatrice who doth guide us to
From good to better thus immediately,
Time can no measure of her movements show.

How lustrous must have been her brilliancy
Within the sun's bright sphere, to which I came.
By light, and not by hue, seen vividly!

Though help from art, use, genius I should claim,
I could not others to conceive it teach:
Let them believe, and long to see the same.

And if our thoughts are poor, and dull our speech
For such high theme, no wonder need there be,
For ne'er beyond the sun man's eye might reach.

Such was e'en there the fourth great family
Of the great Sire who doth its thirst allay,"
Showing what "Son " and "Spirit " signify.

Then Beatrice spake: " Give thanks, I say,
Give thanks unto the Sun of Angels,
To this, the Sun of Sense, hath led thy way."

No heart of man did e'er itself subdue
To worship God in self-surrendering fear,
With loyalty of will so promptly true.

As I did when those words fell on mine ear;
And so my love in Him was fixed awhile.
E'en Beatrice, eclipsed, no more seemed near.

She was not wroth thereat, but so did smile.
That the bright glory of her laughing eyes
Did my one thought to many things beguile.

More lights I saw in life and triumph rise,
And, making us their centre, wreathe us round;
Less bright their look than sweet their melodies.

So oft see we Latona's daughter crowned.
And halo spread, when misty is the air,
So that it keeps the zone wherewith she's bound.

In Heaven's high court, whence hither I repair,
Are many gems so beautiful and bright,
They may not from that realm pass otherwhere.

Such was the song of those thus clothed with light
Who takes not wings that he may thither fly,
May wait until the dumb bring news aright.

Then, with sweet songs, those burning suns on high
Around us wheeled three times in measure due,
As round fixed poles the stars move equably.

Dames in unfinished dance I seemed to view,
Who pause awhile, in silence giving heed,
Till they have learnt the new notes through and through;

And within one I heard thus: " When indeed
The ray of grace, by which is kindled love.
True love, which still, in loving, love doth breed,

In thee shall shine all former light above,
So that it guide thee on that ladder high,
Whence who descends again must upward move.

Who to thy thirst should from his cup deny
The wine to quench it, knows not liberty.
But is like streams that far from ocean die.

Thou would'st fain know what kind of plants they be,
Thus garlanded, encompassing with praise
The Lady fair who for Heaven strengtheneth thee.

I with the flock of holy lambs did graze
Which Dominic along a pathway led,
Where well he fattens who ne'er vainly strays;

Near, on the right is he who was my head.
Master and brother, Albert of Cologne;
And I am Thomas, in Aquino bred.

If 'tis thy wish the others should be shown,
Follow the words I speak with wandering eyes
Along the blessed wreath in order thrown.

That other fire-flame from the smile doth rise
Of Gratian, who each sphere of Law's domain
So helped that he gives joy in Paradise.

The next from whom our choir doth beauty gain
That Peter was, who, like the widow poor.
His treasure gave the true Church to sustain.

The fifth light, shining with a beauty pure.
Breathes from such love that all the world below"
Craves to have tidings of him true and sure.

Within it is the lofty mind, where so
Deep knowledge dwelt, that, if the truth be true,
Such insight ne'er a second rose to know.

Next may'st thou light of that bright taper view
Which, in the flesh, had fullest insight clear
Into the angels' life and office due:

And in that little flame that smileth here
Thou see'st of Christian times the advocate,
Whose Latin pen was to Augustine dear.

Now if thy mind's eye doth expatiate.
Following my praises on from light to light,
The eighth flame thou dost thirst to penetrate.

In vision of all Good there finds delight
That holy soul who maketh manifest
The cheating world to him who hears aright;

The body whence 'twas hunted lies at rest
In Cieldauro, and from agony
And exile came it to this region blest.

Beyond see thou the burning breath-flame high
Of Isidore and Bede, and that Richard,
With whom in contemplation none might vie.

He from whom now turns to me thy regard.
Is of a soul the light so gravely wise.
It deemed the way to death both slow and hard.

There Sigier's light eternal meets thine eyes.
Who, lecturing in the street that's named of Straw,
Unpalatable truths did syllogise."

Then, like a clock, that calls us, as by law,
What time the Bride of God from sleep doth rise,
With matin praise her Bridegroom's love to draw,

Where the one wheel upon the other flies,
Sounding " Ting-ting, ting-ting" with note so sweet
That souls attuned feel love's high ecstasies.

So saw I then that glorious circle fleet
Around, and voice to voice make melody.
So rich that none may know it as complete

Save there, where joy endures eternally.