Paradiso: Canto XXIII

As bird, within the leafy home it loves.
Upon the nest its sweet young fledglings share,
Resting, while night hides all that lives and moves.

Who, to behold the objects of her care,
And find the food that may their hunger stay, —'
Task in which all hard-labours grateful are, —

Prevents the dawn, and, on an open spray,
With keen desire awaits the sun's bright rays,
And wistful look till gleams the new-born day;

So did my Lady then, with fixed gaze,
Stand upright, looking on that zone of Heaven
Wherein the sun its tardiest course displays;

And when I saw her thus to rapt thought given,
I was as one who, in his fond desire.
Rests in firm hope, although by strong wish driven."

'Twixt this and that 'when,' short time did expire —
I mean my waiting and the vision bright
Of Heaven, each moment flushed with clearer fire;

And Beatrice said, " Behold the might
Of Christ's triumphant hosts; the harvest know,"
Reaped from the rolling of these spheres of light."

Then seemed it as though all her face did glow,
And her clear eyes so shone with joyous sheen,
I must without a comment let them go.

As when in full-moon nights, in sky serene,
Smiles Trivia's face among those nymphs eterne.
Whose shining forms through all heaven's vaults are seen.

So I, above ten thousand lamps that burn,
Saw one bright Sun that kindled every one,
As our sun doth the orbs we see superne;"

And through the living light transparent shone
The lucid substance so divinely clear,
That my frail sight was dazzled and o'erdone.

O Beatrice, gentle guide and dear!
To me she said, " That which o'ertasks thy sense
Is Might from which no refuge doth appear.

There is the Wisdom, there the Omnipotence,
That opened wide the paths 'twixt Heaven and earth,
For which so long has been desire intense."

As flash that from the storm-cloud takes its birth,
Dilating, finds not space wherein to stay.
And, 'gainst its nature, doth itself inearth,

So, as before my mind those rich feasts lay,
Itself, grown large, beyond itself it bore,
And how it fared my memory fails to say.

Open thine eyes and what I am explore.
Thou hast seen things that give thee strength to bear
Light of my smiles thou could'st not bear before."

I was as one who feels as half aware
Of some forgotten dream, and strives in vain
To call it to his mind and keep it there.

When I this offer heard thus spoken plain.
Of such thanks worthy that no time should blot
It from the book where lives the past again.

Though now should chant in concert every throat"
That Polyhymnia and her sisters made
So passing rich with sweetest milk of thought.

To help me, not a thousandth part were said,
Were they to sing that holy smile divine,
And light which o'er her holy face it shed.

So, when to tell of Paradise is mine.
Here needs must leap the consecrated song,
As one whose way some hindrance doth confine;

And whoso thinks how great the theme and long,
How frail the shoulder that the weight must bear,"
Will hardly, though it tremble, count it wrong.

No sea-way for a little bark is there,
Where prow o'er-daring cleaves the surging sea,
Nor for a pilot who himself would spare.

Why doth my face now so enamour thee,
That thou dost not to yonder garden turn,
Which 'neath the rays of Christ blooms fair to see?

There is the Rose wherein the Word Eterne
Was clothed in flesh, and there the lilies grow
Through whose sweet scent the way of life we learn."

Thus Beatrice; and I, prompt to go
Where she did guide, gave myself yet again
To strife wherein frail eyes their weakness know.

As oft mine eyes have looked on flowery plain,
Themselves overshadowed, whilst clear sunlight beamed
Through rift in cloud-banks, brighter after rain.

So saw I then more shining ones that gleamed,
With burning rays illumined from above,
Yet saw no source from whence the brightness streamed.

O Might that thus hast stamped them in Thy love,
Thou didst ascend on high, thus giving space
To these mine eyes, that else too weak would prove!

The name of that fair Flower, whose bounteous grace
At morn and eve I ask, my soul impelled
To see that greater glory face to face.

And when, portrayed in them, mine eyes beheld
The size, the beauty of the living star.
Which there excels as it on earth excelled,

A little flame athwart the heaven from far
Formed like a band wherewith the brow is crowned,
Engirdled it in windings circular.

What melody soe'er doth sweetest sound
On earth, and draws the soul in rapt desire.
Would be like broken clouds that thunder round.

Compared with that sweet music from the lyre
That o'er that sapphire bright was then entwined.
Which doth the heaven most lustrous ensapphire.

"Angelic Love am I, and thus I wind
For joy of Him whom once Thy pure womb bore.
Where He we yearn for did a hostel find;

And I will wind me. Lady, evermore,
While thou thy Son shalt follow, and shalt make
The highest sphere more heavenly than before."

Thus did the ever-circling music take
Its closing note, and every other light"
With name of MARY did the echoes wake.

That robe which, as with regal glory dight.
Wraps all the spheres of world that lives and glows,
Filled with God's breath and all His ways of might.

So high above us in its concave rose,
That where I stood its order fair did hide
Its beauty from us, nor did half disclose:

Wherefore mine eyes no power to me supplied
To track the course of that encrowned crest,
That rose and rested at her Son's dear side.

And, as a babe that to its mother's breast.
When it hath had its fill, doth stretch its hand.
And inward love by outward glow attest.

So each of those white gleams erect did stand.
And with its summit so inclined, that I
Their love for Mary well could understand.

So stayed they then and met my gazing eye.
And sang Regina Coeli with a tone
So sweet, its joy fades not from memory.

Ah me! what plenteous harvests now they own,
Those well-filled coffers, which of old were found
Good tilth-land, sown with good seed, every one!

True life, true treasures, now for them abound,
Won when, as exiles sad, they wept of old.
And left their gold on Babylonian ground.

Here he victorious doth his triumph hold,
'Neath God's exalted Son, of Mary born,
With the two great assemblies, new and old.

By whom the keys of that bright Heaven are borne.