As when the earliest radiance of the sun
Dawns where its Maker shed his sacred blood,
And 'neath the midnight Ebro flows adown,
And noonday burns above the Ganges' flood,
Thus was it now; and daylight sank, before
God's holy angel in our presence stood,
And joyful sang beside the fiery shore
" Beati mundo corde , " in a strain
Far sweeter than ye find in mortal lore.
" Ye blessid ones, until the fiery pain
Have touch'd you, ye may seek no onward way:
Enter; nor turn ye from the heavenly plain,
Whence cometh to your ears that lovely lay. "
These words he spake, as we to him drew near;
And I became like one whose burial-day
Is come, though yet in life. My hands, in fear,
I stretch'd, and gazed upon the flame, and thought
Of those whom I had seen on fiery bier.
Then both my friends came tow'rds me, as I sought
Their glance, and Virgil said to me: " My son,
This flame with torment, not with death, is fraught.
Remember thee, remember — and if none
Might hurt, when I on Geryon was thy guide,
Why fearest now, when nearer to God's throne?
Be sure, that if within yon fiery tide
Thou for a thousand years and more shouldst dwell,
Thou couldst not lose a hair from off thy head.
If thou dost doubt the thing whereof I tell,
And by experience certainty would gain,
Thou with thy garment mayst thy fears dispel.
No more let cowardice thy steps detain;
But turn and cross the path which yonder lies. "
Yet, 'gainst my conscience, still I did remain.
This when he saw, a cloud pass'd o'er his eyes,
And anxiously, " Behold, my son, " he said,
" Twixt thee and Beatrice this wall doth rise. "
As Pyramus, when death toward him sped,
Yet oped once more his eyes at Thisbe's name,
What time the mulberry was stain'd with red,
All pliant then my stubborn mood became;
And to my Leader, when I heard the sound
Which told of her so dearly loved, I came.
And then he shook his head, and spake: " This bound
Thou fain wouldst pass? " And gently did he smile,
As to a child who all subdued is found,
By promised toy. He led me on the while,
Within the flame, and begg'd that Statius now
Would follow, who for many a bygone mile
Had parted us. So fierce the fiery glow,
That seething, molten glass, compared with this,
Were as a grot where crystal waters flow.
And then, to cheer my failing heart, I wis,
My gentle father, mid that raging heat,
Spake but of Beatrice, and said: " In bliss
I see her shining eyes. " And now a sweet
Clear voice of singing floated to mine ear,
And led us where the shore our steps did greet.
" Come, blessid of my Father, " did I hear,
In melody, within a starry ray
Of light too pure for mortal eyes to bear.
" Now swiftly comes the closing hour of day:
Ye may not linger here, but onward press,
Ere from the west the sunset fades away. "
Between the stony ramparts did we pass,
So that on me the dying light was thrown;
Which slowly sank, as though in weariness.
And but a little way our steps had gone;
When, by the shadowy form effaced, we knew
That darkness fell where erst the sunbeams shone.
Ere the horizon changed its varied hue,
Unto the dimness of the twilight gray,
And night, o'er all, her dusky mantle threw,
Each on a grade of the steep staircase lay,
And there we made our couch; because all power
For the ascent departeth with the day.
Even as the flock, at the fierce noontide hour,
Quietly repose within the stilly shade,
Though where the peaks of the high mountains soar
Erst with bold leap they sprang; they now are laid
To rest, and slowly ruminate, and still
Their pastor leaning on his staff is stay'd,
And aye his faithful task he doth fulfil,
And ever the lone midnight watch doth keep,
Lest wolves may cause his charge or fear or ill;
Thus were we now: I, as the timid sheep;
And they, as shepherds guarding me by night,
Enfolded in the ramparts strait and steep.
Small was the space beyond, which met my sight;
But, in that little, I the stars beheld
Shining with larger orbs and purer light.
And still I gazed upon the glittering field,
And mused, till slumber came, and seal'd mine eye,
Slumber, wherein the truth is oft reveal'd.
Now, in the hour when in the orient sky
The star of Venus dawns with silver beam,
Where love's soft radiance ever glows on high,
A young and beauteous lady, in a dream
To me appear'd; as through a flowery plain
She went, and cull'd the blossoms, whose bright gleam
Bedeck'd the grass; and thus she sang her strain:
" Know, I am Leah; and throughout this bourne
I go, and weave a blooming garland fain,
And at this mirror I myself adorn.
But never doth my sister Rachel gaze
Within that glass; she sitteth, night and morn,
With eye intent upon the holy rays
That shine around the glories of God's throne:
To her, of thought; to me, of work the praise. "
Now, from the splendours that precede the dawn,
More grateful to the wand'ring pilgrim's eye
Than home, when he a weary way hath gone,
On every side the clouds of darkness fly,
And with them fled my slumber; then I rose,
And saw my Master prompt the path to try.
" That sweetest fruit, which on such diverse boughs,
The anxious care of mortals aye doth seek,
To-day shall lull in peace thy many woes. "
Thus did I hear my gentle Leader speak,
And never such deep joy to me was given,
As in those welcome words I here did take;
And thus my will by such strong will was driven,
I seem'd more lightly at each step to go,
And with fleet pinions might ascend to heaven.
As the whole staircase we surmounted now,
And stood at last upon the grade supern,
Then Virgil fix'd his gaze upon my brow,
And said: " The temporal fire and the etern
Thou hast beheld, my son; and, from this day,
The truth by me no more thou shalt discern.
I led thee when thou wert gone far astray;
Now, thine own pleasure thou mayst take as guide:
Thou art beyond the steep and narrow way.
Behold the sun, that on thy brow doth glide;
Behold each flower which on thy pathway lies,
Sprung from the bounteous earth, on every side:
Until there come to thee the lovely eyes
That, weeping, bade me aid thee, it is thine
Freely to rest, and freely to arise.
No longer tarry for my speech or sign;
For now thy heart is righteous, pure, and just,
Nor unto evil things canst thou incline:
Thus, to thy will, both crown and mitre I entrust. "