(1) Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a mountain's foot, At that point where the valley terminated, Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, Vested already with that planet's rays Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted That in my heart's lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously. And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

(4) Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass This on one side, when that upon the other, If thine intelligence right clearly heed." "Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet Saw I so clearly as I now discern, There where my wit appeared incompetent, That the mid-circle of supernal motion, Which in some art is the Equator called, And aye remains between the Sun and Winter, For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat. But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn How far we have to go; for the hill rises Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise." And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome, And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts. Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, That going up shall be to thee as easy As going down the current in a boat, Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be; There to repose thy panting breath expect; No more I answer; and this I know for true."

(4) From two letters, or forms He composed two dwellings; from three, six; from four, twenty-four; from five, one hundred and twenty; from six, seven hundred and twenty; from seven, five thousand and forty; and from thence their numbers increase in a manner beyond counting; and are incomprehensible. These seven are Planets of the Universe, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, Moon, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars; the seven days are the days of creation; and these an the seven gateways of a man, two eyes, two ears, two nostrils and a mouth, through which he perceives by his senses.

(1) We were upon the summit of the stairs, Where for the second time is cut away The mountain, which ascending shriveth all. There in like manner doth a cornice bind The hill all round about, as does the first, Save that its arc more suddenly is curved. Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears; So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth, With but the livid colour of the stone. "If to inquire we wait for people here," The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure Too much delay will our election have." Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed, Made his right side the centre of his motion, And turned the left part of himself about. "O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us," Said he, "as one within here should be led. Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it; If other reason prompt not otherwise, Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!" As much as here is counted for a mile, So much already there had we advanced In little time, by dint of ready will;

(2) "We have no names," they answered, "we are nothing more than shooters of blowguns and hunters with bird-traps on the mountains. We are poor and we have nothing, young man. We only walk over the large and small mountains, young man, and we have just seen a large mountain, over there where you see the pink sky. It really rises up very high and overlooks the tops of all the hills. So it is that we have not been able to catch even one or two of the birds on it, boy. But, is it true that you can level all the mountains?" Hunahpú and Xbalanqué asked Cabracán. "Have you really seen the mountain of which you speak? Where is it? If I see it, I shall demolish it. Where did you see it?" "Over there it is, where the sun rises," said Hunahpú and Xbalanqué. "Very well, show me the road," he said to the two boys.

(3) Bernard was beckoning unto me, and smiling, That I should upward look; but I already Was of my own accord such as he wished; Because my sight, becoming purified, Was entering more and more into the ray Of the High Light which of itself is true. From that time forward what I saw was greater Than our discourse, that to such vision yields, And yields the memory unto such excess. Even as he is who seeth in a dream, And after dreaming the imprinted passion Remains, and to his mind the rest returns not, Even such am I, for almost utterly Ceases my vision, and distilleth yet Within my heart the sweetness born of it; Even thus the snow is in the sun unsealed, Even thus upon the wind in the light leaves Were the soothsayings of the Sibyl lost. O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift thee From the conceits of mortals, to my mind Of what thou didst appear re-lend a little, And make my tongue of so great puissance, That but a single sparkle of thy glory It may bequeath unto the future people;

(5) But when this had given me many a hard blow and repulse, doubtless from the [holy] spirit, which had a great longing yearning towards me, at last I fell into a very deep melancholy and heavy sadness, when I beheld and contemplated the great deep of this world, also the sun and stars, the clouds, rain and snow, and considered in my spirit the whole creation of this world.

(1) When he who all the world illuminates Out of our hemisphere so far descends That on all sides the daylight is consumed, The heaven, that erst by him alone was kindled, Doth suddenly reveal itself again By many lights, wherein is one resplendent. And came into my mind this act of heaven, When the ensign of the world and of its leaders Had silent in the blessed beak become; Because those living luminaries all, By far more luminous, did songs begin Lapsing and falling from my memory. O gentle Love, that with a smile dost cloak thee, How ardent in those sparks didst thou appear, That had the breath alone of holy thoughts! After the precious and pellucid crystals, With which begemmed the sixth light I beheld, Silence imposed on the angelic bells, I seemed to hear the murmuring of a river That clear descendeth down from rock to rock, Showing the affluence of its mountain-top. And as the sound upon the cithern's neck Taketh its form, and as upon the vent Of rustic pipe the wind that enters it,

(1) Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight Had scattered them asunder o'er the plain, Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us, I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade, And how without him had I kept my course? Who would have led me up along the mountain? He seemed to me within himself remorseful; O noble conscience, and without a stain, How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee! After his feet had laid aside the haste Which mars the dignity of every act, My mind, that hitherto had been restrained, Let loose its faculties as if delighted, And I my sight directed to the hill That highest tow'rds the heaven uplifts itself. The sun, that in our rear was flaming red, Was broken in front of me into the figure Which had in me the stoppage of its rays; Unto one side I turned me, with the fear Of being left alone, when I beheld Only in front of me the ground obscured. "Why dost thou still mistrust?" my Comforter Began to say to me turned wholly round; "Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee?

(34) "There is a mountain situated in the midst of the earth, or center of the world, which is both small and great. It is soft, also above measure hard and stony. It is far off, and near at hand, but by the providence of God, invisible. In it are hidden most ample treasures, which the world is not able to value. This mountain by envy of the devil, who always opposeth the glory of God and the happiness of man, is compassed about with very cruel beasts and other [sic] ravenous birds, which make the way thither both difficult and dangerous; and therefore hitherto, because the time is not yet come, the way thither could not be sought after nor found out. But now at last the way is to be found by those that are worthy, but notwithstanding by every man's self-labor and endeavors.

(114) In that seventh spirit of nature rise up also the heavenly fruits and colours, and whatsoever is apprehensible or comprehensible, and is like to such a form or manner as if the angels did dwell between heaven and earth in the deep, where they ascend and descend, and wherever they are, there their foot resteth, as if it stood upon the earth.

(6) Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall on us: and to the hills, Cover us.

(1) Already had the sun the horizon reached Whose circle of meridian covers o'er Jerusalem with its most lofty point, And night that opposite to him revolves Was issuing forth from Ganges with the Scales That fall from out her hand when she exceedeth; So that the white and the vermilion cheeks Of beautiful Aurora, where I was, By too great age were changing into orange. We still were on the border of the sea, Like people who are thinking of their road, Who go in heart and with the body stay; And lo! as when, upon the approach of morning, Through the gross vapours Mars grows fiery red Down in the West upon the ocean floor, Appeared to me—may I again behold it!— A light along the sea so swiftly coming, Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled; From which when I a little had withdrawn Mine eyes, that I might question my Conductor, Again I saw it brighter grown and larger. Then on each side of it appeared to me I knew not what of white, and underneath it Little by little there came forth another.

(5) Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove Alike from thee, the other more remote Between the former two shall meet thine eyes. Turned towards these, cause that behind thy back Be placed a light, illuming the three mirrors And coming back to thee by all reflected. Though in its quantity be not so ample The image most remote, there shalt thou see How it perforce is equally resplendent. Now, as beneath the touches of warm rays Naked the subject of the snow remains Both of its former colour and its cold, Thee thus remaining in thy intellect, Will I inform with such a living light, That it shall tremble in its aspect to thee. Within the heaven of the divine repose Revolves a body, in whose virtue lies The being of whatever it contains. The following heaven, that has so many eyes, Divides this being by essences diverse, Distinguished from it, and by it contained. The other spheres, by various differences, All the distinctions which they have within them Dispose unto their ends and their effects.

(5) O splendour of God! by means of which I saw The lofty triumph of the realm veracious, Give me the power to say how it I saw! There is a light above, which visible Makes the Creator unto every creature, Who only in beholding Him has peace, And it expands itself in circular form To such extent, that its circumference Would be too large a girdle for the sun. The semblance of it is all made of rays Reflected from the top of Primal Motion, Which takes therefrom vitality and power. And as a hill in water at its base Mirrors itself, as if to see its beauty When affluent most in verdure and in flowers, So, ranged aloft all round about the light, Mirrored I saw in more ranks than a thousand All who above there have from us returned. And if the lowest row collect within it So great a light, how vast the amplitude Is of this Rose in its extremest leaves! My vision in the vastness and the height Lost not itself, but comprehended all The quantity and quality of that gladness.

(1) On the nature of mountains it says in revelation, that, at first, the mountains have grown forth in eighteen years; and Albûrz ever grew, till the completion of eight hundred years; two hundred years up to the star station (pâyak), two hundred years to the moon station, two hundred years to the sun station, and two hundred years to the endless light.

(69) As is apparent in winter, when there is so hard cold or frost that the water becometh ice; though the sun shineth somewhat warm through all the cold frost, yet for all its beams, by which it shineth on them, water freezeth into snow and ice.

(5) When they together had discoursed somewhat, They turned to me with signs of salutation, And on beholding this, my Master smiled; And more of honour still, much more, they did me, In that they made me one of their own band; So that the sixth was I, 'mid so much wit. Thus we went on as far as to the light, Things saying 'tis becoming to keep silent, As was the saying of them where I was. We came unto a noble castle's foot, Seven times encompassed with lofty walls, Defended round by a fair rivulet; This we passed over even as firm ground; Through portals seven I entered with these Sages; We came into a meadow of fresh verdure. People were there with solemn eyes and slow, Of great authority in their countenance; They spake but seldom, and with gentle voices. Thus we withdrew ourselves upon one side Into an opening luminous and lofty, So that they all of them were visible. There opposite, upon the green enamel, Were pointed out to me the mighty spirits, Whom to have seen I feel myself exalted.

(1) As much as 'twixt the close of the third hour And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere Which aye in fashion of a child is playing, So much it now appeared, towards the night, Was of his course remaining to the sun; There it was evening, and 'twas midnight here; And the rays smote the middle of our faces, Because by us the mount was so encircled, That straight towards the west we now were going When I perceived my forehead overpowered Beneath the splendour far more than at first, And stupor were to me the things unknown, Whereat towards the summit of my brow I raised my hands, and made myself the visor Which the excessive glare diminishes. As when from off the water, or a mirror, The sunbeam leaps unto the opposite side, Ascending upward in the selfsame measure That it descends, and deviates as far From falling of a stone in line direct, (As demonstrate experiment and art,) So it appeared to me that by a light Refracted there before me I was smitten; On which account my sight was swift to flee.

(3) And when the Pleiades separated, I saw clouds, which I shall pass by. For the cloud of the spirit is like a pure beryl. And the cloud of the hymen is like a shining emerald. And the cloud of silence is like a flourishing amaranth. And the cloud of the middle region is like a pure jacinth.