(161) There the Bridegroom kisseth his bride: O gracious amiable blessedness and great love! how sweet art thou? How friendly and courteous art thou? How pleasant and lovely is thy relish and taste? How ravishingly sweet dost thou smell? O noble light and bright glory, who can apprehend thy exceeding beauty? How comely adorned is thy love? How curious and dainty are thy colours? And all this eternally! Who can express it?

(1) "If in the heat of love I flame upon thee Beyond the measure that on earth is seen, So that the valour of thine eyes I vanquish, Marvel thou not thereat; for this proceeds From perfect sight, which as it apprehends To the good apprehended moves its feet. Well I perceive how is already shining Into thine intellect the eternal light, That only seen enkindles always love; And if some other thing your love seduce, 'Tis nothing but a vestige of the same, Ill understood, which there is shining through. Thou fain wouldst know if with another service For broken vow can such return be made As to secure the soul from further claim." This Canto thus did Beatrice begin; And, as a man who breaks not off his speech, Continued thus her holy argument: "The greatest gift that in his largess God Creating made, and unto his own goodness Nearest conformed, and that which he doth prize Most highly, is the freedom of the will, Wherewith the creatures of intelligence Both all and only were and are endowed.

(2) For there where earth and heaven obedient were, The woman only, and but just created, Could not endure to stay 'neath any veil; Underneath which had she devoutly stayed, I sooner should have tasted those delights Ineffable, and for a longer time. While 'mid such manifold first-fruits I walked Of the eternal pleasure all enrapt, And still solicitous of more delights, In front of us like an enkindled fire Became the air beneath the verdant boughs, And the sweet sound as singing now was heard. O Virgins sacrosanct! if ever hunger, Vigils, or cold for you I have endured, The occasion spurs me their reward to claim! Now Helicon must needs pour forth for me, And with her choir Urania must assist me, To put in verse things difficult to think. A little farther on, seven trees of gold In semblance the long space still intervening Between ourselves and them did counterfeit; But when I had approached so near to them The common object, which the sense deceives, Lost not by distance any of its marks,