Paradiso: Canto XX

When he who doth o'er all the world shed light
To sink beneath our hemisphere is seen.
And day all round us slowly fades in night.

The sky, till then lit only by his sheen,
As in an instant is with lustre fraught,
With many lights, in all one light serene.

This aspect of the heavens I had in thought,
When that great symbol of the world and those
Who rule it, in that blest beak silence wrought;

For then those lights, whose living brightness rose
To greater glory, strain of song began,
Which, fading, gliding, far from memory flows.

O gentle Love, who in thy smiles art drest.
How ardent in those pipes didst thou then show,
Which thoughts inspired that holiest were and best!

And when those jewels, bright with loving glow,
Wherewith I saw ingemmed the sixth bright star,
Had silenced of those angel chimes the flow,

Methought I heard a murmuring stream afar.
Which falleth, crystal clear, from stone to stone,
Showing how full its mountain sources are.

And as the cithern's music takes its tone
Within its neck, or as, through open way,
The wind through bagpipe's orifice is blown.

So, far removed from waiting or delay,
That murmur rose up in the eagle's throat,
As though from hollow place 'twere made to play.

There it took voice, and issued in a note
That in its beak formed words articulate.
Dear to my heart, whereon those words I wrote.

"That part in me whose glance doth contemplate
The sun, in mortal eagles," so it spake,
"'Tis meet thou scan with look deliberate;

Since, of the fires whereof my form I make.
Those in my head that sparkle in mine eye
Of all their ranks the loftiest places take.

He who as pupil shines, placed centrally,
Was the sweet Psalmist of the Holy Spirit,
Who bade the Ark from town to town pass by;

And now he knows of his own song the merit,
So far as in it his own thought was shown,
By the reward, as great, he doth inherit.

Of five who circle round my brow, this one.
Who to my beak hath ta'en his post most near.
Consoled the widow weeping for her son;

Now doth he know full well the cost how dear
Christ not to follow, through experience
Of this sweet life, and of its contrast drear.

He who stands next in that circumference
Of which I speak, upon the upper line,
Postponed his death by his true penitence;

Now doth he know that fixed decrees divine
Change not, although when worthy prayer doth seek.
They may to-morrow for to-day assign.

The next, with good intentions all too weak,
Bore evil fruit; himself, me, and the laws.
Through yielding to the Pope, he changed to Greek;

Now knows he how the harm, whereof the cause
Was found in his good deed, works him no ill.
Though on the world much hurt and harm it draws.

Then he who on the sloping arc doth fill
His place was William, whom that land laments
Which mourns for Charles and Frederick living still;

Now doth he know how Heaven in love consents
With righteous kings, and by the outward show
Of his great brightness still clear proof presents.

Who would believe in that blind world below
That Trojan Rhipeus here would e'er be found
Fifth of the holy lights in this our bow?

Now enough knows he what the world around
Cannot discern of God's great grace on high,
Though e'en his glance scans not the deep profound."

As is a lark that cleaves at will the sky,
First singing loud, then silent in content,
With that last sweetness that doth satisfy,

So seemed to me the image there imprent
Of that eternal joy which as each will
Desires it, stamps the fashion of its bent.

And, though I was to doubt that did me fill
As glass to colour that encoated lies,
It could not wait in silence, patient still.

But from my mouth " What things are these? " did rise,
Forced from me by the pressure of its weight;
Whereat great joy, bright flashing, met mine eyes.

And thereupon, with look yet more elate,
That ever-blessed symbol made reply,
That I might not in eager wondering wait,

"I see that thou believest, in that I
Have said these things, but 'how ' thou dost not see.
So that, although believed, they hidden lie.

Thou dost as one who knows by name what he
Beholds, and yet their inmost being's sense
Fails to discern unless a guide there be.

Regnum coelorum suffereth violence
From fervent love and ever-living hope,
Which conquers e'en the will of Providence;

Not as a man with man in power doth cope,
But conquers, since It wills to be o'ercome,
And conquered, — conquers by its love's wide scope.

The first life and the fifth that have their home
Within my brow amaze thee, in that they
Adorn the regions where the angels roam;

Not, as thou deem'st, they left their mortal clay
Heathens, but Christians, strong in faith to see.
Or the pierc'd feet, or else the pierc'd feet's day.

Beheld far off; for one from Hell, where free
Path to good-will is none, with flesh was clad,
That so of lively hope reward might be;

Of lively hope, which put forth prayer that had
Power to obtain that God his soul would raise,
So that his will might turn to good from bad.

The glorious soul of whom I tell the praise,
Returning to his flesh for briefest hour.
Believed in Him who could direct his ways.

And so, believing, glowed with fiery power"
Of love so true, that when he died once more.
He was thought worthy of this blissful bower.

The other, through the grace which still doth pour
From fount so deep that no created eye
Its primal wave hath ever dared explore,

Turned all his love below to justice high.
Wherefore from grace to grace God opened wide
His vision to redemption drawing nigh;

So in it he believed, nor could abide
Thenceforth the foul stench of the pagan's creed,
And so reproved the stubborn heathen's pride.

And those three Maidens met his baptism's need,
Those whom thou sawest at the right-hand wheel,
A thousand years ere baptism was decreed.

O grace predestined, how thou dost conceal
Thy secret root from every mortal eye
That sees not what the First Cause doth reveal!

And ye, O mortals, judge not hastily,
For even we, who look on God's own face.
The number of the elect not yet descry;

And in this lack we find sweet gift of grace.
For all our good in this Good finds its goal,
And what God wills, our will too doth embrace."

So from that godlike image to my soul,
To remedy my dim and feeble sight,"
Sweet medicine was given that made me whole.

And as skilled hand to one who sings aright
Adjusts the harmonious tremor of his string.
So that the song acquires the more delight.

Thus, while it spake, as memory back doth bring"
What met mine eyes, I saw those glories twain.
With one accord, like two eyes opening.

Their flamelets move in measure with the strain.