Classic Poem

CANTO XXXIII.

Argument.

St. Bernard's prayer to the Virgin. — Dante beholds the unveiled glory of God: there, his human strength fails, and the Vision ends.

" O Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son,
Most lowly and most lofty being e'er
Created, scope of all that hath been done
In God's eternal counsel! thou such fair
Nobility didst on our nature shower,
That he who made it did that nature wear.
Within thy womb the love was lit once more,
By whose warm glow in peace eternal thus
Hath sprung and blossomid this fairest flower.
Here art thou as the noonday sun to us,
Of charity, as on the mortal earth,
The living fountain of all hope, I wis.
Lady, thou art of such a lofty worth,
That he who seeketh grace, nor asks of thee,
Would, without wings, to his desire go forth,
In airy flight. Thy great benignity
Not only succours him who asks, but e'en,
Ere the request, doth give with bounty free.
In thee for aye is gentlest pity seen,
In thee magnificence, in thee all good
That in created being e'er hath been.
This man who, from the lowest deep where brood
The lost for evermore, unto the bright
And blissful land hath still his course pursued,
While, one by one, hath pass'd before his sight
Each spirit-life, now begs of thee such grace
That he may raise his eyne on bolder flight,
To the Supreme Salvation's lofty place:
And I, who ne'er more ardently did burn
For mine own vision's fullest perfectness,
Than now for his, to thee do wholly turn,
And pray that by thy prayers thou would'st make clean
His heart; thus heavenly joy he may discern.
And further still, I beg of thee, O Queen,
Who canst whate'er thou wilt, that thou would'st free
His spirit, which such wondrous things hath seen,
From every stain. His guardian do thou be,
From impulses of earth: thy gaze now rest
On Beatrice, whose claspid hands for me
Entreat, with all the band of spirits blest. "
Intent on him who pray'd did now appear
The eyes so loved by God; and thus exprest
How prayer devout and pure on high is dear:
Then to the light eternal did they soar,
Wherein none other hath such insight clear;
And I, who had attain'd the furthest shore,
Where all desire is ended, now at last
My deep and ancient longing felt no more.
The Sage then, smiling, sign'd that I should cast
Mine eyes above; but I already knew
This lesson, and on high my glance had pass'd.
For clearer and more clear mine insight grew,
And more and more it enter'd the bright ray
Of that pure light which in itself is true.
From henceforth was my vision more than may
Be told in speech, which all too weak I deem;
And Memory shrinketh from that task away.
Even as the man who seith in a dream,
And, when he wakes, the passion doth remain,
Though of the rest abides no faintest gleam;
Thus am I now, who scarcely do retain
Aught of the vision which on high was mine:
Yet on my heart still drops its sweetest rain.
Thus melts the snow-flake when the sun doth shine;
Thus on the wind were scatter'd the light leaves,
Which bore, of old, the sentence Sibylline.
O highest Light! whose purity bereaves
Of power all mortal vision, to my mind
Give back a ray of what it there receives,
And grant my speech such wondrous power to find,
That of thy glory I one spark alone
May leave to future races of mankind:
For, could I bring again the memories gone,
And somewhat sing of them in this my strain,
More of thy victory on earth were known.
I think, if now mine eye from this sharp pain
Had shrunk, so 'wilder'd I had surely been
That ne'er might I have look'd thereon again:
And, for this thought I was more bold, the keen
Resplendence to endure, until my gaze
Was join'd unto the pure and dazzling sheen
Of Virtue Infinite. O ample grace,
Whence I presumed to lift my glance on high
Unto that glory's fierce and burning blaze!
And, in its far and holy depths, mine eye
Saw, bound with love as in one volume fair,
All that within the universe doth lie:
Substance, and accident; the things they bear,
Thereto pertaining, closely join'd I saw,
Thus but one simple light. The germ was there
Of the great universal type and law,
Methinks; because when this I do recall,
I seem a fuller, freer breath to draw.
But more forgetfulness on me doth fall
Here in one moment, than in all the space
Of twenty centuries and five, which roll
Between the Present and the ancient days
When on the foam the shadow Argo threw,
The sea-god first beheld with wond'ring gaze.
Now marvel all my mind enchainid drew,
Most fix'dly and immoveably intent,
And, looking, ever yet more ardent grew.
For, when the spirit on God's light is bent,
From thence to aught besides it cannot turn,
Since Will, in sooth, thereto may ne'er consent;
Because the Good for which it aye doth burn,
Most wholly garner'd in that Light doth rest:
All is defective which within this urn
Is not made perfect. Now shall be exprest
My thought in words which more unfinish'd die
Than his who hangs upon his mother's breast.
Not that within this living light did lie
More than one simple essence; for it still
Remaineth that which it hath been for aye;
Yet, as more strength did o'er my gaze distil,
To me the self-same semblance did appear
As though it did another form fulfil.
For now, within the substance deep and clear
Of that high Light, I look'd on circles three,
And diverse was the hue which they did wear,
Though all of equal space and measure be:
And each, as Iris doth from Iris glow,
Gave back reflected rays; while unto me
The third appear'd as fire, in equal flow
From this side and from that. How brief is speech,
The marvels which I here beheld, to show!
In truth, I am too weak this lore to teach.
O Light Eternal, who alone dost dwell
In thine own being; who alone canst reach
To comprehend thyself; from whose deep cell,
Thou, Understood and Understanding, aye
Smil'st on thyself with love! The zone which well
As a reflected light I did descry,
When I thereon had gazed awhile, I saw
Most wholly painted with our effigy,
Still in that ray's own hue: thus did it draw
My gaze unto itself. As one whose mind
Intently seeks by geometric law
To square the circle; yet he cannot find,
In thought, the principle which he doth need:
Thus I at this new sight; who here inclined
Mine intellect, within this zone to read
The how and whence that image there did dwell,
And in what manner it therewith agreed.
But, weary, now my mortal pinions fell;
I do but know there flash'd a 'wildering light
O'er me, of perfect joy made visible.
At this high glory fail'd mine earthly might:
But yet no discontent my bliss did mar,
Impell'd, as speeds a circling wheel aright,
Even by the Love which moves the sun and every star.