As much as, 'twixt the third hour of the day
And dawn, appeareth of the heavenly sphere
Which ever moveth as a child at play,
There seem'd, as now the eventide drew near,
The same, ere yet the sun should sink to rest;
The hour of vesper there, and midnight here.
Upon my brow the golden rays imprest
Their seal, because we journey'd round the hill
In such a manner that we faced the west.
When I more blinding than at first did feel
The sudden splendour on my forehead weigh,
Amazed at what that glory might reveal,
I raised my hand, to screen me from the ray
Too pure and piercing in excess of light,
Which did my feeble vision so affray.
As, when from watery sheen or mirror bright,
The beams, refracted from the opposing part,
Spring back in equal manner to our sight,
And, as they fall, so much do they depart
From the straight line, in equal rule and guise,
As plainly show experience and art;
Even thus it seem'd this wondrous light did rise,
And smote my brow as if with burning fire,
While swiftly sank to earth my blinded eyes.
I said: " What thing is this, O gentle sire,
From which my dazzled vision finds no shade,
As it draws nearer? " " Let it not inspire
Much marvel in thy thought, " thus Virgil said,
" If yet the sons of Heaven are all too bright
To look on. He is come to give thee aid:
And soon it will not pain thy mortal sight
To see such beings; but with purer thought,
Thou mid celestial quires shalt find delight. "
When near that Blessid One our steps were brought,
He thus accosted us with joyous voice:
" Here mount a staircase with less labour fraught. "
We enter'd on the pathway of his choice;
" Beati Misericordes " then he sang,
And " Now let him who conquereth rejoice. "
I, with my Leader, up the mountain sprang,
Alone; and, as I went, I strove to gain
Instruction in his words, and thus began,
With eager mind: " Good Master, I would fain
Know what the spirit of Romagna meant,
Speaking of place and consort ? " Then again
He answer'd: " Of his soul's most evil bent
He knows the risk; thou need'st not then admire,
If he would warn, that here ye be not sent.
Because ye firmly fix your heart's desire
Where, for companionship, ye poorer seem,
Envy within your souls doth grief inspire.
If longing for the heavenly sphere supreme
Did your affections turn to things above,
Then would ye not of this as sorrow deem.
The more who in the choir celestial move,
The greater joy and gladness each doth find,
And more intensely glows with blessid love. "
I said: " Now less contentment fills my mind,
Then if at first I silent had remain'd;
And darker doubt is with my thought entwined.
How can it be that greater good is gain'd,
Where there are many to divide the spoil,
Than if its wealth by few had been retain'd? "
Then he to me: " Because thine eyes, the while,
Are only fix'd upon the things of earth,
Amid true light thou dost in darkness toil.
The good ye find above, of highest worth,
Ineffable and infinite, still flows
To love, as to the planet light goes forth.
The more it gives, the more with ardour glows;
And aye, the wider charity doth reach,
To richer, fuller excellence it grows.
And still the more who gain the eternal beach,
More loveliness they find, and more they love,
And as a mirror each gives back to each.
And if my words thy doubts may not disprove,
Thou shalt see Beatrice, to give thee rest
From this and other thoughts which in thee move.
Seek only that the letters five, imprest,
As the first twain, in wounds upon thy brow,
By the sharp suff'ring quickly be erased. "
I would have said: " Thou dost content me now; "
But lo! we had attain'd the higher zone,
And, all around, my wand'ring glance did go.
Then was I in ecstatic vision thrown,
Which me into a glorious temple bore,
Wherein were many persons; and, alone,
There stood a woman at the gate, who wore
The sweet look of a mother. She began:
" Why hast thou thus dealt with us? for with sore
Distress, we sought thee sorrowing, my son. "
And, as her gentle voice had ceased to speak,
That which I look'd on faded. Then came one,
With bitter drops of sorrow on her cheek,
The tears that are by spiteful anger worn,
Caused by the wrath which would dire vengeance wreak.
She said: " If thou be ruler of the bourne
Whose name among the gods stirr'd up such strife,
And where all knowledge had its dawning morn,
Revenge thee, Pisistratus, on the life
Of him who dared our daughter to embrace. "
Thus mildly answer'd he his haughty wife,
With temperate look: " What may be then the place
For them who evil do for us desire,
If those that love us are in such ill case? "
Then saw I those who, in excess of ire,
A youth were fiercely stoning; and their cry
Was " Slay him, slay him! " Much I did admire,
Bent downward on the earth to see him lie,
Beneath the heavy weight of coming death;
Yet still his eyes were portals of the sky.
He to his Father pray'd with his last breath
That even his murderers might pardon'd be,
And wore the aspect gentle Pity hath.
Then, when my trancid soul again was free
To look on what was real, with amaze
My unfalse errors did I clearly see.
And my good Master, who perceived me gaze
As one from whom but now his sleep hath fled,
Began: " Why walk'st with such uncertain pace?
Know, that thou more than half a league hast sped,
With tottering limbs, and with half-closid eyes,
As one with wine or slumber in his head. "
" The things which in my vision did arise,
My gentle father, I will now declare,
What time I walk'd in such a devious wise; "
I said, and he replied: " If thou didst wear
More than a hundred masks, I could not choose
But read the thoughts thou in thy heart dost bear.
Thou saw'st this vision, that no vain excuse
Might be, to close thy heart unto the stream
Of peace, which the eternal founts diffuse.
I would not of my question thou shouldst deem,
As seeing with the eyes whose light is o'er,
The while the body lies in its long dream.
I ask'd, that thou mightst to thy steps restore
Their strength: 'tis well to hasten those who are
New-waked, to use their vigilance once more. "
We journey'd onward, 'neath the vesper-star,
More than the limit of our mortal eye
Might reach, amid the evening rays afar;
And lo! still creeping tow'rd us, there drew nigh
A cloud of densest smoke, as night obscure,
Nor from its darkness was there room to fly:
Then unto us was lost fresh air and daylight pure.