(4) More of the mount by us was now encompassed, And far more spent the circuit of the sun, Than had the mind preoccupied imagined, When he, who ever watchful in advance Was going on, began: "Lift up thy head, 'Tis no more time to go thus meditating. Lo there an Angel who is making haste To come towards us; lo, returning is From service of the day the sixth handmaiden. With reverence thine acts and looks adorn, So that he may delight to speed us upward; Think that this day will never dawn again." I was familiar with his admonition Ever to lose no time; so on this theme He could not unto me speak covertly. Towards us came the being beautiful Vested in white, and in his countenance Such as appears the tremulous morning star. His arms he opened, and opened then his wings; "Come," said he, "near at hand here are the steps, And easy from henceforth is the ascent." At this announcement few are they who come! O human creatures, born to soar aloft, Why fall ye thus before a little wind?

(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.

(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) "It came to pass then, when I saw the mystery of all these words in the vesture which was sent me, that straightway I clothed myself therewith, and I shone most exceedingly and soared into the height.

(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.

(14) And the Great Glory sat thereon, and His raiment shone more brightly than the sun and was whiter than any snow.

(6) So from the lights that there to me appeared Upgathered through the cross a melody, Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn. Well was I ware it was of lofty laud, Because there came to me, "Arise and conquer!" As unto him who hears and comprehends not. So much enamoured I became therewith, That until then there was not anything That e'er had fettered me with such sweet bonds. Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold, Postponing the delight of those fair eyes, Into which gazing my desire has rest; But who bethinks him that the living seals Of every beauty grow in power ascending, And that I there had not turned round to those, Can me excuse, if I myself accuse To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly: For here the holy joy is not disclosed, Because ascending it becomes more pure.

(1) The glory of Him who moveth everything Doth penetrate the universe, and shine In one part more and in another less. Within that heaven which most his light receives Was I, and things beheld which to repeat Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends; Because in drawing near to its desire Our intellect ingulphs itself so far, That after it the memory cannot go. Truly whatever of the holy realm I had the power to treasure in my mind Shall now become the subject of my song. O good Apollo, for this last emprise Make of me such a vessel of thy power As giving the beloved laurel asks! One summit of Parnassus hitherto Has been enough for me, but now with both I needs must enter the arena left. Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe As at the time when Marsyas thou didst draw Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his. O power divine, lend'st thou thyself to me So that the shadow of the blessed realm Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,

(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.

(1) When from thence he has risen upwards, he neither rises nor sets. He is alone, standing in the centre. And on this there is this verse:

(5) And other lights I saw descend where was The summit of the M, and pause there singing The good, I think, that draws them to itself. Then, as in striking upon burning logs Upward there fly innumerable sparks, Whence fools are wont to look for auguries, More than a thousand lights seemed thence to rise, And to ascend, some more, and others less, Even as the Sun that lights them had allotted; And, each one being quiet in its place, The head and neck beheld I of an eagle Delineated by that inlaid fire. He who there paints has none to be his guide; But Himself guides; and is from Him remembered That virtue which is form unto the nest. The other beatitude, that contented seemed At first to bloom a lily on the M, By a slight motion followed out the imprint. O gentle star! what and how many gems Did demonstrate to me, that all our justice Effect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest! Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which begin Thy motion and thy virtue, to regard Whence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays;

(1) To run o'er better waters hoists its sail The little vessel of my genius now, That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel; And of that second kingdom will I sing Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself, And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy. But let dead Poesy here rise again, O holy Muses, since that I am yours, And here Calliope somewhat ascend, My song accompanying with that sound, Of which the miserable magpies felt The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon. Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire, That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect Of the pure air, as far as the first circle, Unto mine eyes did recommence delight Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast. The beauteous planet, that to love incites, Was making all the orient to laugh, Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort. To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind Upon the other pole, and saw four stars Ne'er seen before save by the primal people.

(169) Things Divine are not attainable by mortals who understand the body alone, but only by those who stripped of their garments arrive at the summit.

(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;

(3) That, then, which so transcends, which is not subject unto sense, [which is] beyond all bounds, [and which] cannot be grasped,—That transcends all appraisement; That cannot be supported, nor borne up, nor can it be tracked out. For where, and when, and whence, and how, and what, He is,—is known to none. For He’s borne up by [His] supreme stability, and His stability is in Himself [alone],—whether [this mystery] be God, or the Eternity, or both, or one in other, or both in either.

(8) As the flowing rivers disappear in the sea, losing their name and their form, thus a wise man, freed from name and form, goes to the divine Person, who is greater than the great.

(6) His sluggish attitude and his curt words A little unto laughter moved my lips; Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort? Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?" And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing? Since to my torment would not let me go The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate. First heaven must needs so long revolve me round Outside thereof, as in my life it did, Since the good sighs I to the end postponed, Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid Which rises from a heart that lives in grace; What profit others that in heaven are heard not?" Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting, And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched Meridian, and from the shore the night Covers already with her foot Morocco."

(2) Ensample hereof may be seen by the ascension of our Lord: for when the time appointed was come, that Him liked to wend to His Father bodily in His manhood, the which was never nor never may be absent in His Godhead, then mightily by the virtue of the Spirit God, the manhood with the body followed in onehead of person. The visibility of this was most seemly, and most according, to be upward.

(5) Would that it were possible for thee to get thee wings, and soar into the air, and, poised midway 'tween earth and heaven, behold the earth's solidity, the sea's fluidity (the flowings of its streams), the spaciousness of air, fire's swiftness, [and] the coursing of the stars, the swiftness of heaven's circuit round them [all]! Most blessed sight were it, my son, to see all these beneath one sway - the motionless in motion, and the unmanifest made manifest; whereby is made this order of the cosmos and the cosmos which we see of order.

(3) Thus round about me flashed a living light, And left me swathed around with such a veil Of its effulgence, that I nothing saw. "Ever the Love which quieteth this heaven Welcomes into itself with such salute, To make the candle ready for its flame." No sooner had within me these brief words An entrance found, than I perceived myself To be uplifted over my own power, And I with vision new rekindled me, Such that no light whatever is so pure But that mine eyes were fortified against it. And light I saw in fashion of a river Fulvid with its effulgence, 'twixt two banks Depicted with an admirable Spring. Out of this river issued living sparks, And on all sides sank down into the flowers, Like unto rubies that are set in gold; And then, as if inebriate with the odours, They plunged again into the wondrous torrent, And as one entered issued forth another. "The high desire, that now inflames and moves thee To have intelligence of what thou seest, Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.