(41) And the chaste Virgin said; Thou art indeed my Bridegroom and my Companion, but thou hast not my Ornament; my Pearl is more a precious than thou, my Virtue [or Power] is incorruptible, and my mind is constant [or stedfast;] thou hast an unconstant Mind, and thy Virtue is corruptible [or brittle.] Dwell in my Court, and I will entertain thee friendly, and do thee much good: I will adorn thee with my ornaments, and I will put my Garment on thee; but I will not give thee my Pearl, for thou art dark, and that is shining and bright.

(1) I CAN scarce write for Grief, but seeing it cannot be otherwise, therefore we will for a While wear the Garment of the Woman, but yet live in the Virgin; and although we receive [or suffer] much Affliction in the [Garment of the] Woman, yet the Virgin will recompence it well enough. And thus we must be bound with the Woman till we send her to the Grave, and then she shall be a Shadow and a Figure; and the Virgin shall be our Bride and precious Crown. She will give us her Pearl and Crown, and cloath us with her Ornaments, for which we will give the Venture for the Lily's sake. And though we shall raise a great Storm, and though Antichrist tear away the Woman from us, yet the Virgin must continue with us, because we are married to her; let every one take its own, and then I shall have that which is mine.

(53) But the young Man desired to have the Virgin to be his own, which could not be, because she was a Degree higher in the Birth than he; for the Virgin was from Eternity, and the Bridegroom was given to her, that she should have Joy and Delight with him in God.

(15) Thy proud Horse [or Beast,] thou shameful Whore, shall ride no longer alone over the bended Knees; in that Time it will no more be said, The Power [Might or Authority] sticks in my Chest of Money; that Mineral [or Metal] becomes a Blossom in the Light; and the Tincture stands in the Blossom of the Lily; Stones are of as much worth [as that Metal is;] the Clothing of the Virgin is brighter than thy Pride. How finely does the Ornament of this World stand on Modesty and the Fear of God, if the Heart be humble? How does thy silken and golden Clothes adorn thee? Dost thou not appear in God's Deeds of Wonder? Who will call thee a false Woman, if thou be so very chaste? Dost thou not stand to the Honour of the Great God? Art thou not his Work of Wonder? Is there not a friendly laughter before thee? Who can say that thou art a wrathful Woman? Thy modest Countenance shines over Mountains and Valleys. Art thou not at the End of the World, and [will not] thy Glance [or Luster] be espied in Paradise? Wherefore stands thy Mother in Babel, and so very malicious? O! thou shameful Whore; get thee out, for Babel is % on Fire, or else thou wilt be burnt thyself.

(5) And first, and near the ending of these words, "Sperent in te" from over us was heard, To which responsive answered all the carols. Thereafterward a light among them brightened, So that, if Cancer one such crystal had, Winter would have a month of one sole day. And as uprises, goes, and enters the dance A winsome maiden, only to do honour To the new bride, and not from any failing, Even thus did I behold the brightened splendour Approach the two, who in a wheel revolved As was beseeming to their ardent love. Into the song and music there it entered; And fixed on them my Lady kept her look, Even as a bride silent and motionless. "This is the one who lay upon the breast Of him our Pelican; and this is he To the great office from the cross elected." My Lady thus; but therefore none the more Did move her sight from its attentive gaze Before or afterward these words of hers. Even as a man who gazes, and endeavours To see the eclipsing of the sun a little, And who, by seeing, sightless doth become,

(40) Now the chaste Virgin ought to be bent into the Heart of God, and to have no Imagination to lust after the Beauty of the comely young Man; but yet the young Man was kindled with Love towards the Virgin, and he desired to copulate with her; for he said, thou art my dearest Spouse [or Bride,] my Paradise, and Garland of Roses, let me into thy Paradise: I will be impregnated in thee, that I may get thy Essence, and enjoy thy pleasant Love; how willingly would I taste of the friendly Sweetness of thy Virtue [or Power?] If I might but receive thy glorious Light, how full of Joy should I be?

(2) A king, whose empire stretched to the far horizons, had a daughter as beautiful as the moon. Before her loveliness even the fairies were abashed. Her dimpled chin resembled the well of Joseph, and the locks of her hair wounded a hundred hearts. Her eyebrows were twin bows, and when she loosed their arrows the space between sang her praise. Her eyes, languorous as the narcissus, threw thorns of her eyelashes in the path of the wise. Her face was as the sun when he took the moon's virginity. The Angel Gabriel could not tear his eyes from the pearls and rubies of her mouth. A smile of her

lips dried up the water of life in the beholder, who yet begged alms from these same lips. Whoever glanced at her chin fell headlong into a spring of bubbling water.

The king also had a slave, a youth, so handsome that the sun grew pale and the light of the moon diminished. When he walked in the streets and market-place crowds stopped to gaze at him.

By chance one day the princess saw this slave, and in a moment her heart slipped from her hand. Reason forsook her and love took possession. Her soul, sweet as Shirin, turned bitter. Withdrawing from her companions she mused, and musing and reflecting, began to burn. Then she called her ten young maids of honour. They were excellent musicians and played on the shawms and pipes; their voices wxre those of nightingales, and their singing, which tore the soul, was worthy of David. Gathering them around her she told them about her state, saying that she was ready to sacrifice her name, her honour, and her life for the love of this youth; for when one is deep in love one is good for nothing else. 'But,' she said, 'if I tell him of my love no doubt he will do something rash. If it becomes known that I have been intimate with a slave both he and I will suffer. On the other hand, if he does not possess me, I shall die lamenting behind the curtain of the harem. I have read a hundred books on patience and still I am without it. What can I do! I must find a way to enjoy the love of this slender cypress, so that the desire of my body shall accord with the longing of my soul - and this must be done without his knowing.'

Then the sweet-voiced maids said: 'Do not grieve. Tonight we will bring him here unknown to anyone, and even he will know nothing about it.'

Soon, one of the young girls went in secret to the slave and asked him, as if to play with him, to bring two cups of wine. Into one cup she threw a drug, contriving that he should drink it. He at once fell asleep, so that she was able

to carry out her plan, and the youth of the silver breast remained without news of the two worlds.

When night came the maids of honour went softly to where he lay and put him on a litter and carried him to the princess. Then they sat him on a golden throne and placed a coronet of pearls on his head. At midnight, still a little drugged, he opened his eyes and saw a palace as fair as paradise, and around him were golden seats. The place was lighted by ten great candles perfumed with amber, and sweet aloe wood burned in pans. The maidens began to sing, but in such sweet strains that reason bade farewell to the spirit, and the soul to the body. Then the sun of wine went round to the light of the candles. Bewildered with the joy of his surroundings and dazzled by the beauty of the princess, the youth lost his wits. He was no longer really in this world nor was he in the other. With a heart full of love, and a body possessed with desire, amid these delights he fell into a state of ecstasy. His eyes were fastened on her beauty and his ears to the sound of the reed pipes. His nostrils took in the perfume of amber and the wine in his mouth became like liquid fire. The princess kissed him, and he shed tears of joy while she mingled hers with his. Sometimes she pressed sweet kisses on his mouth, sometimes they were tinged with salt; sometimes she ruffled his long hair, sometimes she lost herself in his eyes. He possessed her; and so they passed the time until the dawn appeared in the East. When morning Zephyr breathed the young slave became sad; but they sent him to sleep again and took him back to his quarters.

When he of the silver breast came to himself, without knowing why, he began to weep. One might say the thing was finished, so what was the good of crying out. He tore his clothes, pulled his hair and put earth on his head. Those about him asked why he was doing this, and what had happened. He said: Ht is impossible to describe what I have

I

seen, no one else can ever see it except in a dream, for what has happened to me can never have happened to anyone before. Never was there a more astonishing mystery.'

Another said: 'Wake up, and tell us at least one of the hundred things that happened.' He replied: 'lam in a tumult because what I have seen has happened to me in another body. While hearing nothing I have heard everything, while seeing nothing I have seen everything.'

Another said: 'Have you lost your wits or have you just been dreaming?' 'Ah,' he said, 'I don't know if I was drunk or sober. What can be more puzzling than something which is neither revealed nor hidden. What I have seen I can never forget, yet I have no idea where it happened. For one whole night I revelled with a beauty who is without equal. Who and what she is I do not know. Only love remains, and that is all. But God knows the truth.'

(1) "Thou Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son, Humble and high beyond all other creature, The limit fixed of the eternal counsel, Thou art the one who such nobility To human nature gave, that its Creator Did not disdain to make himself its creature. Within thy womb rekindled was the love, By heat of which in the eternal peace After such wise this flower has germinated. Here unto us thou art a noonday torch Of charity, and below there among mortals Thou art the living fountain-head of hope. Lady, thou art so great, and so prevailing, That he who wishes grace, nor runs to thee, His aspirations without wings would fly. Not only thy benignity gives succour To him who asketh it, but oftentimes Forerunneth of its own accord the asking. In thee compassion is, in thee is pity, In thee magnificence; in thee unites Whate'er of goodness is in any creature. Now doth this man, who from the lowest depth Of the universe as far as here has seen One after one the spiritual lives,

(58) But my loving Virgin says; O thou my beloved Companion, whom I have chosen, go with me, I am not of this World. I will bring thee out of this World into my Kingdom, there is mere pleasant Rest and Welfare; in my Kingdom is mere Joy, Honour, and Glory, there is no i Driver in it. I will adorn thee with the Glory of God, and put thee on my bright Ornament. I will make thee a Lord in Heaven, and a Judge over this World; thou shalt help to judge the Driver in his Wickedness; he shall be laid at thy Feet for a Foot-stool, and he shall not open his Jaws against thee, but he shall be barred up for ever in his fierce Gate; thou shalt eat at my Table, there shall be no Grudging nor Want; my Fruit is sweeter and pleasanter than the Fruit of this World, thou shalt never have any Woe arise from it; in all thy Doings shall be-pleasant Cheerfulness and amiable Discourse: Mere Humility in great Love shall shine before thee. All thy Companions are so very beautiful, thou shalt have Joy in them all. Why dost thou esteem thy corruptible Life? Thou shalt enter into an incorruptible Life that shall endure eternally.

(115) And now what hast thou to expect, thou proud Bride of Babel, for thy stately Pride, from the Spirit of this World, that thou servest it so faithfully? Behold, thou hast a threefold [Reward to expect;] first, that the Spirit of this World leaves thee, and departs from thee, and tears away thy proud Body from thee, and turns it to Dust and Ashes; and it takes thy Goods, Power, and Pomp, and gives them to another, and torments him for a while therein.

(4) Then she will begin to rage at herself like a woman in labor, writhing and screaming in the hour of delivery. But since she is female, she is powerless by herself to inseminate a child. So the father sent her from heaven her man, her brother, the firstborn. The bridegroom came down to the bride. She gave up her former whoring and cleansed herself of the pollution of adulterers, and she was renewed to be a bride. She cleansed herself in the bridal chamber. She filled it with perfume and sat there waiting for the true groom. She no longer goes about the marketplace, copulating with whomever she desires, but she waits for him, saying, "When will he come?" And she feared him, not knowing what he looked like. She no longer remembers, since she fell from her father's house long ago.

(14) Marriage to her was a calamity. To be subjected, then, to the passions, and to yield to them, is the extremest slavery; as to keep them in subjection is the only liberty. The divine Scripture accordingly says, that those who have transgressed the commandments are sold to strangers, that is, to sins alien to nature, till they return and repent. Marriage, then, as a sacred image, must be kept pure from those things which defile it. We are to rise from our slumbers with the Lord, and retire to sleep with thanksgiving and prayer,- "Both when you sleep, and when the holy light comes," confessing the Lord in our whole life; possessing piety in the soul, and extending self-control to the body. For it is pleasing to God to lead decorum from the tongue to our actions. Filthy speech is the way to effrontery; and the end of both is filthy conduct.

(6) There near and far nor add nor take away; For there where God immediately doth govern, The natural law in naught is relevant. Into the yellow of the Rose Eternal That spreads, and multiplies, and breathes an odour Of praise unto the ever-vernal Sun, As one who silent is and fain would speak, Me Beatrice drew on, and said: "Behold Of the white stoles how vast the convent is! Behold how vast the circuit of our city! Behold our seats so filled to overflowing, That here henceforward are few people wanting! On that great throne whereon thine eyes are fixed For the crown's sake already placed upon it, Before thou suppest at this wedding feast

(5) "A perfect life and merit high in-heaven A lady o'er us," said she, "by whose rule Down in your world they vest and veil themselves, That until death they may both watch and sleep Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts Which charity conformeth to his pleasure. To follow her, in girlhood from the world I fled, and in her habit shut myself, And pledged me to the pathway of her sect. Then men accustomed unto evil more Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me; God knows what afterward my life became. This other splendour, which to thee reveals Itself on my right side, and is enkindled With all the illumination of our sphere, What of myself I say applies to her; A nun was she, and likewise from her head Was ta'en the shadow of the sacred wimple. But when she too was to the world returned Against her wishes and against good usage, Of the heart's veil she never was divested.

(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,

(5) And therefore she hung up her love and her longing desire in this cloud of unknowing, and learned her to love a thing the which she might not see clearly in this life, by light of understanding in her reason, nor yet verily feel in sweetness of love in her affection. Insomuch, that she had ofttimes little special remembrance, whether that ever she had been a sinner or none. Yea, and full ofttimes I hope that she was so deeply disposed to the love of His Godhead that she had but right little special beholding unto the beauty of His precious and His blessed body, in the which He sat full lovely speaking and preaching before her; nor yet to anything else, bodily or ghostly. That this be sooth, it seemeth by the gospel.

(52) But it was the Law and Will of the Virgin, that as God rules over all Things, and imprints himself every where, and gives Virtue and Life to all, and yet the Thing comprehends him not, although he be certainly there; so also should the Soul stand still, and the Form of the Virgin should govern in the Soul, and crown it with the divine Light; the Soul should be the comely young Man which was created, and the Virtue [or Power] of God [should be] the fair Virgin; and the Light of God [should be] the fair [orient] Pearl and Crown, wherewith the Virgin would adorn the young Man.

(3) And now when we consider our Mind, in the Light of Nature, and what that is, which makes us zealous [or earnest,] which burns there [in] as a Light, and is desirous [thirsty or covetous] like Fire, which desires to receive from that Place where it has not sown, and would reap in that Country where the Body is not at Home [or dwells not,] then the precious Virgin of the Wisdom of God meets us, in the middlemost Seat in the Center of the Light of Life, and says; The Light is mine, and the [Power or] Virtue and Glory is mine, also the Gate of Knowledge is mine, I live in the Light of Nature, and without me you can neither see, know, nor understand any Thing of my Virtue, [or Power.] I am thy Bridegroom in the Light; and thy Desire [or Longing] after my Virtue [or Power] is my Attracting in myself; I sit in my Throne, but thou knowest me not; I am in thee, and thy Body is not in me. I distinguish [or separate,] and thou seest it not. I am the Light of the Senses, and the Root of the Senses is not in me, but near me. I am the Bridegroom of the Root, but she has put on a rough Coat. I [will] not lay myself in her Arms till she puts that off, and then I will rest eternally in her Arms, and adorn the Root with my Virtue [and Power,] and give her my beautiful Form, and will espouse myself to her with my Pearl.

(10) And she would fain return again into her Place to her Bridegroom, if the earthly Flesh, with the earthly Mind and Senses [or Thoughts did not hinder, or] were not in the Way, for the Virgin does not go into them, she will not be bound [-to, or] in the earthly Center; she finishes the whole Time (while the Woman lives in her Stead) of her Speculation with Longing and much Calling, Admonishing and hearty Seeking: But [to] the Regenerate she appears in a high triumphing Manner, in the Center of the Mind; [she] also often dives into the Tincture of the Blood of the Heart, whereby the Body with the Mind and Senses comes to tremble and triumph so highly, as if it were in Paradise; it also presently gets a paradisical Will.

(5) These Lovers, then, lovers of the beauty outside of sense, must be made to declare themselves.

What do you feel in presence of the grace you discern in actions, in manners, in sound morality, in all the works and fruits of virtue, in the beauty of souls? When you see that you yourselves are beautiful within, what do you feel? What is this Dionysiac exultation that thrills through your being, this straining upwards of all your Soul, this longing to break away from the body and live sunken within the veritable self?

These are no other than the emotions of Souls under the spell of love.

But what is it that awakens all this passion? No shape, no colour, no grandeur of mass: all is for a Soul, something whose beauty rests upon no colour, for the moral wisdom the Soul enshrines and all the other hueless splendour of the virtues. It is that you find in yourself, or admire in another, loftiness of spirit; righteousness of life; disciplined purity; courage of the majestic face; gravity; modesty that goes fearless and tranquil and passionless; and, shining down upon all, the light of god-like Intellection.

All these noble qualities are to be reverenced and loved, no doubt, but what entitles them to be called beautiful?

They exist: they manifest themselves to us: anyone that sees them must admit that they have reality of Being; and is not Real-Being, really beautiful?

But we have not yet shown by what property in them they have wrought the Soul to loveliness: what is this grace, this splendour as of Light, resting upon all the virtues?

Let us take the contrary, the ugliness of the Soul, and set that against its beauty: to understand, at once, what this ugliness is and how it comes to appear in the Soul will certainly open our way before us.

Let us then suppose an ugly Soul, dissolute, unrighteous: teeming with all the lusts; torn by internal discord; beset by the fears of its cowardice and the envies of its pettiness; thinking, in the little thought it has, only of the perish able and the base; perverse in all its the friend of unclean pleasures; living the life of abandonment to bodily sensation and delighting in its deformity.

What must we think but that all this shame is something that has gathered about the Soul, some foreign bane outraging it, soiling it, so that, encumbered with all manner of turpitude, it has no longer a clean activity or a clean sensation, but commands only a life smouldering dully under the crust of evil; that, sunk in manifold death, it no longer sees what a Soul should see, may no longer rest in its own being, dragged ever as it is towards the outer, the lower, the dark?

An unclean thing, I dare to say; flickering hither and thither at the call of objects of sense, deeply infected with the taint of body, occupied always in Matter, and absorbing Matter into itself; in its commerce with the Ignoble it has trafficked away for an alien nature its own essential Idea.

If a man has been immersed in filth or daubed with mud his native comeliness disappears and all that is seen is the foul stuff besmearing him: his ugly condition is due to alien matter that has encrusted him, and if he is to win back his grace it must be his business to scour and purify himself and make himself what he was.

So, we may justly say, a Soul becomes ugly- by something foisted upon it, by sinking itself into the alien, by a fall, a descent into body, into Matter. The dishonour of the Soul is in its ceasing to be clean and apart. Gold is degraded when it is mixed with earthy particles; if these be worked out, the gold is left and is beautiful, isolated from all that is foreign, gold with gold alone. And so the Soul; let it be but cleared of the desires that come by its too intimate converse with the body, emancipated from all the passions, purged of all that embodiment has thrust upon it, withdrawn, a solitary, to itself again- in that moment the ugliness that came only from the alien is stripped away.