(5) For 'twere not fitting that the eye o'ercast By any mist should go before the first Angel, who is of those of Paradise. This little island round about its base Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it, Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze; No other plant that putteth forth the leaf, Or that doth indurate, can there have life, Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks. Thereafter be not this way your return; The sun, which now is rising, will direct you To take the mount by easier ascent." With this he vanished; and I raised me up Without a word, and wholly drew myself Unto my Guide, and turned mine eyes to him. And he began: "Son, follow thou my steps; Let us turn back, for on this side declines The plain unto its lower boundaries." The dawn was vanquishing the matin hour Which fled before it, so that from afar I recognised the trembling of the sea. Along the solitary plain we went As one who unto the lost road returns, And till he finds it seems to go in vain.

(2) For as the sun the sight that trembles most, Even so the memory of that sweet smile My mind depriveth of its very self. From the first day that I beheld her face In this life, to the moment of this look, The sequence of my song has ne'er been severed; But now perforce this sequence must desist From following her beauty with my verse, As every artist at his uttermost. Such as I leave her to a greater fame Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing Its arduous matter to a final close, With voice and gesture of a perfect leader She recommenced: "We from the greatest body Have issued to the heaven that is pure light; Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true good replete with ecstasy, Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness. Here shalt thou see the one host and the other Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects Which at the final judgment thou shalt see." Even as a sudden lightning that disperses The visual spirits, so that it deprives The eye of impress from the strongest objects,

(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) I cleave the heaven, I open the horizon and I travel over the earth on foot. There come forward to me the Glorious and the Great ones, for I am furnished with numberless Words of Might

(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.

(4) And now if we look round about us every where, upon Heaven and Earth, the Stars and Elements, yet we can see and know no Way [or Passage] where we may go to our Rest; we see no other than the Way of the Entrance in of our Life, and then of the End of our Life, where our Body goes into the Earth, and all our Labour (also our Arts and Glory) is inherited by another, who also vexes himself therewith for a While, and then follows after us; and that continues so from the Beginning of the World to its End.

(14) But now, what this is, my Pen cannot describe. I rather long after it, to comprehend it more in Perfection, and to live therein; which we here in the Light of Nature (in the Gate of the Deep) hknow and behold; but we cannot raise our threefold Mind into it, till our i rough Garment be put off, and then we shall behold it without Molestation.

(37) The light or the heart of God taketh not its original barely from the wild rough stars, where, indeed, love and wrath are in each other, but out of or from the seat where the meek water of life is continually generated.

(38) Thou sailest over the Heaven, thou travellest over earth and in splendour thou reachest the zenith; the two divisions of Heaven are in obeisance to thee, and yield adoration to thee

(5) The virtue that her look endowed me with From the fair nest of Leda tore me forth, And up into the swiftest heaven impelled me. Its parts exceeding full of life and lofty Are all so uniform, I cannot say Which Beatrice selected for my place. But she, who was aware of my desire, Began, the while she smiled so joyously That God seemed in her countenance to rejoice: "The nature of that motion, which keeps quiet The centre and all the rest about it moves, From hence begins as from its starting point. And in this heaven there is no other Where Than in the Mind Divine, wherein is kindled The love that turns it, and the power it rains. Within a circle light and love embrace it, Even as this doth the others, and that precinct He who encircles it alone controls. Its motion is not by another meted, But all the others measured are by this, As ten is by the half and by the fifth. And in what manner time in such a pot May have its roots, and in the rest its leaves, Now unto thee can manifest be made.

(1) Whenever by delight or else by pain, That seizes any faculty of ours, Wholly to that the soul collects itself, It seemeth that no other power it heeds; And this against that error is which thinks One soul above another kindles in us. And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it, Time passes on, and we perceive it not, Because one faculty is that which listens, And other that which the soul keeps entire; This is as if in bonds, and that is free. Of this I had experience positive In hearing and in gazing at that spirit; For fifty full degrees uprisen was The sun, and I had not perceived it, when We came to where those souls with one accord Cried out unto us: "Here is what you ask." A greater opening ofttimes hedges up With but a little forkful of his thorns The villager, what time the grape imbrowns, Than was the passage-way through which ascended Only my Leader and myself behind him, After that company departed from us.

(43) Now the innermost birth of heaven reflects strongly upon the earth, and holdeth the outermost water upon the earth strongly captive, together with the earth also.

(40) But this third birth or geniture is the clear and holy heaven, which qualifieth or uniteth with the heart of God without, distinct and above all heavens, as one heart; also they are the one heart, which, as an almighty, incomprehensible God, holdeth and bears up or sustaineth the place of this world, and holdeth the devil captive in the outermost birth in the angerfire.

(8) "And if I lead you into the region of those who have received the inheritances and have received the mysteries of the Light, and ye see the glory of the Light in which they are, then the Light-land will count for you as the light of the sun which is in the world of men. And if ye look upon the Light-land, then will it count for you as a speck of dust because of the great distance the Light-land is distant from it, and because of the greatness [by which] it is considerably greater than the former."

(4) For he can neither see nor comprehend nor apprehend the light and holy generation or production, which stands in the water of the heaven, but he can see the generation or production only which stands in the astringent, bitter, sour and hot quality, from whence existed the outermost birth or geniture, which is his royal fort or castle.

(1) Remember, Reader, if e'er in the Alps A mist o'ertook thee, through which thou couldst see Not otherwise than through its membrane mole, How, when the vapours humid and condensed Begin to dissipate themselves, the sphere Of the sun feebly enters in among them, And thy imagination will be swift In coming to perceive how I re-saw The sun at first, that was already setting. Thus, to the faithful footsteps of my Master Mating mine own, I issued from that cloud To rays already dead on the low shores. O thou, Imagination, that dost steal us So from without sometimes, that man perceives not, Although around may sound a thousand trumpets, Who moveth thee, if sense impel thee not? Moves thee a light, which in the heaven takes form, By self, or by a will that downward guides it. Of her impiety, who changed her form Into the bird that most delights in singing, In my imagining appeared the trace; And hereupon my mind was so withdrawn Within itself, that from without there came Nothing that then might be received by it.

(2) Whoso lamenteth him that here we die That we may live above, has never there Seen the refreshment of the eternal rain. The One and Two and Three who ever liveth, And reigneth ever in Three and Two and One, Not circumscribed and all things circumscribing, Three several times was chanted by each one Among those spirits, with such melody That for all merit it were just reward; And, in the lustre most divine of all The lesser ring, I heard a modest voice, Such as perhaps the Angel's was to Mary, Answer: "As long as the festivity Of Paradise shall be, so long our love Shall radiate round about us such a vesture. Its brightness is proportioned to the ardour, The ardour to the vision; and the vision Equals what grace it has above its worth. When, glorious and sanctified, our flesh Is reassumed, then shall our persons be More pleasing by their being all complete; For will increase whate'er bestows on us Of light gratuitous the Good Supreme, Light which enables us to look on Him;

(4) "God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit, Thy sight is," said I, "so that never will Of his can possibly from thee be hidden; Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens Glad, with the singing of those holy fires Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl, Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings? Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning If I in thee were as thou art in me." "The greatest of the valleys where the water Expands itself," forthwith its words began, "That sea excepted which the earth engarlands, Between discordant shores against the sun Extends so far, that it meridian makes Where it was wont before to make the horizon. I was a dweller on that valley's shore 'Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey short Doth from the Tuscan part the Genoese. With the same sunset and same sunrise nearly Sit Buggia and the city whence I was, That with its blood once made the harbour hot. Folco that people called me unto whom My name was known; and now with me this heaven Imprints itself, as I did once with it;

(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;

(99) No more does the sun go away or depart from its seat, but retains and keeps its own place to itself, as a heart; and shineth forth as a light, or as a spirit of the whole body of this world, in all powers of the body.