(3) And close to me approached, even as before, The very same who had entreated me, Attent to listen in their countenance. I, who their inclination twice had seen, Began: "O souls secure in the possession, Whene'er it may be, of a state of peace, Neither unripe nor ripened have remained My members upon earth, but here are with me With their own blood and their articulations. I go up here to be no longer blind; A Lady is above, who wins this grace, Whereby the mortal through your world I bring. But as your greatest longing satisfied May soon become, so that the Heaven may house you Which full of love is, and most amply spreads, Tell me, that I again in books may write it, Who are you, and what is that multitude Which goes upon its way behind your backs?" Not otherwise with wonder is bewildered The mountaineer, and staring round is dumb, When rough and rustic to the town he goes, Than every shade became in its appearance; But when they of their stupor were disburdened, Which in high hearts is quickly quieted,

(1) HERE I must encounter with the proud and seeming conceited Wise, who does but grope in the Dark, and knows or understands nothing of the Spirit of God, and must comfort both him, and also the desirous longing Reader who loves God, and must show them a little Door to the heavenly Essence; and show them in what Manner they should understand these Writings, before I come to the Chapter itself.

(1) A will benign, in which reveals itself Ever the love that righteously inspires, As in the iniquitous, cupidity, Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre, And quieted the consecrated chords, That Heaven's right hand doth tighten and relax. How unto just entreaties shall be deaf Those substances, which, to give me desire Of praying them, with one accord grew silent? 'Tis well that without end he should lament, Who for the love of thing that doth not last Eternally despoils him of that love! As through the pure and tranquil evening air There shoots from time to time a sudden fire, Moving the eyes that steadfast were before, And seems to be a star that changeth place, Except that in the part where it is kindled Nothing is missed, and this endureth little; So from the horn that to the right extends Unto that cross's foot there ran a star Out of the constellation shining there; Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon, But down the radiant fillet ran along, So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.

(4) "I see full well," said I, "O sacred lamp! How love unfettered in this court sufficeth To follow the eternal Providence; But this is what seems hard for me to see, Wherefore predestinate wast thou alone Unto this office from among thy consorts." No sooner had I come to the last word, Than of its middle made the light a centre, Whirling itself about like a swift millstone. When answer made the love that was therein: "On me directed is a light divine, Piercing through this in which I am embosomed, Of which the virtue with my sight conjoined Lifts me above myself so far, I see The supreme essence from which this is drawn. Hence comes the joyfulness with which I flame, For to my sight, as far as it is clear, The clearness of the flame I equal make. But that soul in the heaven which is most pure, That seraph which his eye on God most fixes, Could this demand of thine not satisfy; Because so deeply sinks in the abyss Of the eternal statute what thou askest, From all created sight it is cut off.

(4) If I was merely what of me thou newly Createdst, Love who governest the heaven, Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light! When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternal Desiring thee, made me attentive to it By harmony thou dost modulate and measure, Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindled By the sun's flame, that neither rain nor river E'er made a lake so widely spread abroad. The newness of the sound and the great light Kindled in me a longing for their cause, Never before with such acuteness felt; Whence she, who saw me as I saw myself, To quiet in me my perturbed mind, Opened her mouth, ere I did mine to ask, And she began: "Thou makest thyself so dull With false imagining, that thou seest not What thou wouldst see if thou hadst shaken it off. Thou art not upon earth, as thou believest; But lightning, fleeing its appropriate site, Ne'er ran as thou, who thitherward returnest." If of my former doubt I was divested By these brief little words more smiled than spoken, I in a new one was the more ensnared;

(14) Now the Scripture kindles the living spark of the soul, and directs the eye suitably for contemplation; perchance inserting something, as the husbandman when he ingrafts, but, according to the opinion of the divine apostle, exciting what is in the soul. "For there are certainly among us many weak and sickly, and many sleep. But if we judge ourselves, we shall not be judged." Now this work of mine in writing is not artfully constructed for display; but my memoranda are stored up against old age, as a remedy against forgetfulness, truly an image and outline of those vigorous and animated discourses which I was privileged to hear, and of blessed and truly remarkable men.

(2) But seeing it is his eternal Will and Purpose to do us good, and to open his Secrets to us according to his Counsel, therefore we ought not to withstand, nor to bury the bestowed Talent in the Earth, for we must give Account of it in the Appearing of his Coming. Therefore we will thus labour in our Vineyard, and commend the Fruit to him, and will set down in Writing a Memorial for ourselves, and leave it to him. For we can search or conceive no further, than only what we apprehend in the Light of Nature; where our Gate stands open; not according to the Measure of our Purpose, when and how we will, but according to his Gift, when and how he wills. We are not able to comprehend the least Sparkle of him, unless the Gates of the Deep be opened to us in our Mind; where then the zealous [earnest] and highly desirous kindled Spirit is as a Fire, to which the earthly Body ought to be subject, and will grudge no Pains to serve the desirous fiery Mind. And although it has nothing to expect for its Labour but Scorn and Contempt from the World, yet it must be obedient to its Lord, for its Lord is mighty, and itself is feeble, and its Lord leads, [drives,] and preserves it, and yet in its [Ignorance, or Want of] Understanding, it knows nothing of what it does, but it lives like all the Beasts. And yet its Will is [not] to live thus, but it must follow the worthy Mind, which searches after the Wisdom of God; and the Mind must follow the Light of Nature; for God manifests [or reveals] himself in that Light, or else we should know nothing of him.

(6) The one whom he raised up as a light for those who came from himself, the one from whom they take their name, he is the Son, who is full, complete and faultless. He brought him forth mingled with what came forth from him [...] partaking of the [...] the Totality, in accordance with [...] by which each one can receive him for himself, though such was not his greatness before he was received by it. Rather, he exists by himself. As for the parts in which he exists in his own manner and form and greatness, it is possible for to see him and speak about that which they know of him, since they wear him while he wears them, because it is possible for them to comprehend him. He, however, is as he is, incomparable. In order that the Father might receive honor from each one and reveal himself, even in his ineffability, hidden, and invisible, they marvel at him mentally. Therefore, the greatness of his loftiness consists in the fact that they speak about him and see him. He becomes manifest, so that he may be hymned because of the abundance of his sweetness, with the grace of . And just as the admirations of the silences are eternal generations and they are mental offspring, so too the dispositions of the word are spiritual emanations. Both of them admirations and dispositions, since they belong to a word, are seeds and thoughts of his offspring, and roots which live forever, appearing to be offspring which have come forth from themselves, being minds and spiritual offspring to the glory of the Father.

(17) The first will fashion it according to its fierce Might and Pomp, and mingles therein prickly [stinging] Sourness, Wrath and Malice. And the second Principle with the Virgin stands in the Midst, and sheds its Rays of loving Meekness therein, and resists the first [Principle.] And if the Spirit be kindled in that, then the Word is wholly gentle, friendly, and humble, and inclines itself to the Love of our Neighbour; it desires not to seize upon any with the haughty Sting [or Prickle] of the first Principle, but it covers the Prickles of the Thorns, and qualifies the Word with Clearness [and Plainness,] and arms the Tongue with Righteousness and Truth, and it sheds abroad its Rays, even into the Will of the Heart. And when the Will receives the pleasant friendly Rays of Love, then it kindles the whole Mind with the Love, Righteousness, Chastity of the Virgin, and the Truth of all those Things that are by all Regions tried upon the Tongue. And thus it together with the five Senses makes the Tongue shrill, and [thereby] the dear Image of God appears inwardly and outwardly, so that it may be heard and seen in the whole % Abyss, what Form it is of. O Man! behold what the Light of Nature discovers to thee.

(4) "O manhood mine, why dost thou vanish so?" I said within myself; for I perceived The vigour of my legs was put in truce. We at the point were where no more ascends The stairway upward, and were motionless, Even as a ship, which at the shore arrives; And I gave heed a little, if I might hear Aught whatsoever in the circle new; Then to my Master turned me round and said: "Say, my sweet Father, what delinquency Is purged here in the circle where we are? Although our feet may pause, pause not thy speech." And he to me: "The love of good, remiss In what it should have done, is here restored; Here plied again the ill-belated oar; But still more openly to understand, Turn unto me thy mind, and thou shalt gather Some profitable fruit from our delay. Neither Creator nor a creature ever, Son," he began, "was destitute of love Natural or spiritual; and thou knowest it. The natural was ever without error; But err the other may by evil object, Or by too much, or by too little vigour.

(1) Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guide Turned like a little child who always runs For refuge there where he confideth most; And she, even as a mother who straightway Gives comfort to her pale and breathless boy With voice whose wont it is to reassure him, Said to me: "Knowest thou not thou art in heaven, And knowest thou not that heaven is holy all And what is done here cometh from good zeal? After what wise the singing would have changed thee And I by smiling, thou canst now imagine, Since that the cry has startled thee so much, In which if thou hadst understood its prayers Already would be known to thee the vengeance Which thou shalt look upon before thou diest. The sword above here smiteth not in haste Nor tardily, howe'er it seem to him Who fearing or desiring waits for it. But turn thee round towards the others now, For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see, If thou thy sight directest as I say." As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned, And saw a hundred spherules that together With mutual rays each other more embellished.

(6) Now if thou trainest thy mind's eye along From light to light pursuant of my praise, With thirst already of the eighth thou waitest. By seeing every good therein exults The sainted soul, which the fallacious world Makes manifest to him who listeneth well; The body whence 'twas hunted forth is lying Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom And banishment it came unto this peace. See farther onward flame the burning breath Of Isidore, of Beda, and of Richard Who was in contemplation more than man. This, whence to me returneth thy regard, The light is of a spirit unto whom In his grave meditations death seemed slow.

(4) We then, having collected these intelligible Divine Names, have unfolded them to the best of our ability, falling short not only of the precision which belongs to them, (for this truly, even Angels might say) nor only of their praises as sung by Angels (and the chief of our Theologians come behind the lowest of them), nor indeed of the Theologians themselves, nor of their followers or companions, but even of those who are of the same rank as ourselves, last and subordinate to them; so that, if the things spoken should be correct, and, if we, as far as in us lies, have really reached the perception of the unfolding of the Divine Names, let the fact be ascribed to the Author of all good things, Who, Himself, bestows first the power to speak, then to speak well. And if any one of the Names of the same force has been passed over, that also you must understand according to the same methods. But, if these things are either incorrect or imperfect, and we have wandered from the truth, either wholly or partially, may it be of thy brotherly kindness to correct him, who unwillingly is ignorant, and to impart a word to him, who wishes to learn, and to vouchsafe assistance to him, who has not power in himself; and to heal him, who, not willingly, is sick; and having found out some things from thyself, and others from others, and receiving all from the good to transfer them also to us. By no means grow weary in doing good to a man thy friend, for thou perceivest, that we also have kept to ourselves none of the hierarchical communications transmitted to us, but have transmitted them without flaw, both to you and to other holy men, yea, and will continue to transmit them, as we may be sufficient to speak, and those to whom we speak, to hear, doing injury in no respect to the tradition, if at least we do not fail in the conception and expression thereof. But, let these things be held and spoken in such way, as is well pleasing to Almighty God; and let this indeed be our conclusion to the intelligible Divine Names. But I will now pass to the Symbolic Theology, with God for my Guide. 27 October, 1896.

(1) I salute thee, the holy soul! O beloved one! and this for me is more appropriate than for most. Hail! O truly beloved! And to the truly Loveable and Desired, very beloved! Why should it be a marvel, if Christ speaks truly, and the unjust banish His disciples from their cities, themselves bringing upon themselves their due, and the accursed severing themselves, and departing from the holy. Truly things seen are manifest images of things unseen. For, neither in the ages which are approaching, will Almighty God be Cause of the just separations from Himself, but they by having separated themselves entirely from Almighty God; even as we observe the others, becoming here already with Almighty God, since being lovers of truth, they depart from the proclivities of things material, and love peace in a complete freedom from all things evil, and a Divine love of all things good; and start their purification, even from the present life, by living, in the midst of mankind, the life which is to come, in a manner suitable to angels, with complete cessation of passion, and deification and goodness, and the other good attributes. As for you then, I would never be so crazy as to imagine that you feel any suffering; but I am persuaded that you ate sensible of the bodily sufferings merely to appraise them. But, as for those who are unjustly treating you, and fancying to imprison, not correctly, the sun of the Gospel, whilst fairly blaming them, I pray that by separating themselves from those things which they are bringing upon themselves they may be turned to the good, and may draw you to themselves, and may participate in the light. But for ourselves, the contrary will not deprive us of the all-luminous ray of John, who are even now about to read the record, and the renewal of this, thy true theology: but shortly after (for I will say it, even though it be rash), about to be united to you yourself. For, I am altogether trustworthy, from having learned, and reading the things made foreknown to you by God, that you will both be liberated from your imprisonment in Patmos, and will return to the Asiatic coast, and will perform there imitations of the good God, and will transmit them to those after you.

(6) But, I well know you will further ask that the propitious sleep of Almighty God, and His awakening, should be explained. And, when we have said, that the superiority of Almighty God, and His incommunicability with the objects of His Providence is a Divine sleep, and that the attention to His Providential cares of those who need His discipline, or His preservation, is an awakening, you will pass to other symbols of the Word of God. Wherefore, thinking it superfluous that by running through the same things to the same. persons, we should seem to say different things, and, at the same time, conscious that you assent to things that are good, we finish this letter at what we have said, having set forth, as I think, more than the things solicited in your letters. Further, we send the whole of our Symbolical Theology, within which you will find, together with the house of wisdom, also the seven pillars investigated, and its solid food divided into sacrifices and breads. And what is the mingling of the wine; and again, What is the sickness arising from the inebriety of Almighty God? and in fact, the things now spoken of are explained in it more explicitly. And it is, in my judgment, a correct enquiry into all the symbols of the Word of God, and agreeable to the sacred traditions and truths of the Oracles.

(21) The writing of these memoranda of mine, I well know, is weak when compared with that spirit, full of grace, which I was privileged to hear. But it will be an image to recall the archetype to him who was struck with the thyrsus. For "speak," it is said, "to a wise man, and he will grow wiser; and to him that hath, and there shall be added to him." And we profess not to explain secret things sufficiently - far from it - but only to recall them to memory, whether we have forgot aught, or whether for the purpose of not forgetting. Many things, I well know, have escaped us, through length of time, that have dropped away unwritten. Whence, to aid the weakness of my memory, and provide for myself a salutary help to my recollection in a systematic arrangement of chapters, I necessarily make use of this form. There are then some things of which we have no recollection; for the power that was in the blessed men was great. There are also some things which remained unnoted long, which have now escaped; and others which are effaced, having faded away in the mind itself, since such a task is not easy to those not experienced; these I revive in my commentaries. Some things I purposely omit, in the exercise of a wise selection, afraid to write what I guarded against speaking: not grudging - for that were wrong - but fearing for my readers, lest they should stumble by taking them in a wrong sense; and, as the proverb says, we should be found "reaching a sword to a child." For it is impossible that what has been written should not escape, although remaining unpublished by me. But being always revolved, using the one only voice, that of writing, they answer nothing to him that makes inquiries beyond what is written; for they require of necessity the aid of some one, either of him who wrote, or of some one else who has walked in his footsteps.

(102) For when the heat is so anxious in the cold in the astringent quality, that the light kindleth itself through the hidden heaven of the heart in the corporeity, then the anxious death in the wrath of God is terrified, and departeth as a crack or flash from the light, and climbeth upwards very terribly, trembling, and timorously; and the light of the heart hasteneth after it, and affecteth or possesseth it, and then it remaineth at a standstill.

(32) But the sharp birth or geniture of the stars cannot again apprehend the heart of God, nor the Holy Ghost; but the light of God, which riseth up in the anxiety, together with the moving of the Holy Ghost, remaineth free to itself as the heart, and ruleth in the midst or centre of the closure of the hidden heaven, which is from or out of the water of life.

(1) That Sun, which erst with love my bosom warmed, Of beauteous truth had unto me discovered, By proving and reproving, the sweet aspect. And, that I might confess myself convinced And confident, so far as was befitting, I lifted more erect my head to speak. But there appeared a vision, which withdrew me So close to it, in order to be seen, That my confession I remembered not. Such as through polished and transparent glass, Or waters crystalline and undisturbed, But not so deep as that their bed be lost, Come back again the outlines of our faces So feeble, that a pearl on forehead white Comes not less speedily unto our eyes; Such saw I many faces prompt to speak, So that I ran in error opposite To that which kindled love 'twixt man and fountain. As soon as I became aware of them, Esteeming them as mirrored semblances, To see of whom they were, mine eyes I turned, And nothing saw, and once more turned them forward Direct into the light of my sweet Guide, Who smiling kindled in her holy eyes.

(4) But there are earlier and loftier beauties than these. In the sense-bound life we are no longer granted to know them, but the soul, taking no help from the organs, sees and proclaims them. To the vision of these we must mount, leaving sense to its own low place.

As it is not for those to speak of the graceful forms of the material world who have never seen them or known their grace- men born blind, let us suppose- in the same way those must be silent upon the beauty of noble conduct and of learning and all that order who have never cared for such things, nor may those tell of the splendour of virtue who have never known the face of Justice and of Moral-Wisdom beautiful beyond the beauty of Evening and of dawn.

Such vision is for those only who see with the Soul's sight- and at the vision, they will rejoice, and awe will fall upon them and a trouble deeper than all the rest could ever stir, for now they are moving in the realm of Truth.

This is the spirit that Beauty must ever induce, wonderment and a delicious trouble, longing and love and a trembling that is all delight. For the unseen all this may be felt as for the seen; and this the Souls feel for it, every soul in some degree, but those the more deeply that are the more truly apt to this higher love- just as all take delight in the beauty of the body but all are not stung as sharply, and those only that feel the keener wound are known as Lovers.