(4) Ayaz was afflicted with the evil eye, and had to leave the court of the Sultan Mahmud. In despair he fell into a state of despondency and lay on his bed and wept. When Mahmud heard about it he said to one of his attendants: 'Go to Ayaz and say, "I know that you are sad, but I also am in the same state. Though my body is far from you my spirit is near. O you who love me, I am not absent from you for a moment. The evil eye has indeed done ill in afflicting one so charming.'' ' He added to his attendant: 'Go at once, go like fire, go as the rushing water, go as the lightning before the thunder!'

The attendant set off like the wind and in no time reached Ayaz. But he found the Sultan already there, sitting before his slave. And trembling, he said to himself: 'What a misfortune to have to serve a king; no doubt my blood will be shed today.' Then he said to the Sultan: 'I assure you that I haven't stopped for a moment, sitting or standing; how then has the King got here before me? Does the King believe me? If I have been negligent in any way I acknowledge my fault.'

'You are not Mahram,' said Mahmud, 'how then should you be able to travel as I have? I came by a secret way. When I asked for news of Ayaz my spirit was already with him.'

(4) A poor dendsh once fell in love with Ayaz, and the news soon spread. When Ayaz rode through the street, perfumed with musk, this spiritual wanton would wait and run out to see him, and would stare at him as a polo player fixes his eye on the ball. At last they told Mahmud about this beggar being in love with Ayaz. One day, when Ayaz was riding with the sultan, the latter stopped and looked at this dervish and he saw that the soul of Ayaz was as a grain of barley and the face of the man as a ball of dough which encloses it.

He saw that the back of the beggar was curved like a mallet, and his head was turning every way at once like the ball in polo. Mahmud said: 'Miserable beggar, do you expect to drink from the same cup as the Sultan?' 'Although you call me a beggar,' replied the dervish, 'I am not inferior to you in the play of love. Love and poverty go together. You are the sovereign, and your heart is luminous; but for love, a burning heart like mine is necessary. Your love is commonplace. I suffer from the pain of absence. You are with the beloved; but in love one must know how to endure the pain of absence.' The sultan said: 'O you who have withdrawn from ordinary existence, love to you is as a game of polo?' 'It is,' replied the beggar, 'because the ball is always in movement, as I am, and I as the ball. The ball and I have heads that turn, though we have neither hands nor feet. We can speak together about the suffering that the mallet causes us; but the ball is happier than I, for the pony touches it from time to time with its feet. The ball receives the blows of the mallet on his body, but I feel them in my heart.'

'Poor Dervish!' said the sultan, 'you boast of your poverty, but where is your evidence?'

'If I sacrifice everything for love,' replied the derdsh, 'that is a token of my spiritual poverty. And if you, O Mahmud, ever have the experience of real love, sacrifice your life for it; if not you have no right to speak of love.'

So saying, he died, and the world became dark for Mahmud.

(6) Thereon he hid himself; and I towards The ancient poet turned my steps, reflecting Upon that saying, which seemed hostile to me. He moved along; and afterward thus going, He said to me, "Why art thou so bewildered?" And I in his inquiry satisfied him. "Let memory preserve what thou hast heard Against thyself," that Sage commanded me, "And now attend here;" and he raised his finger. "When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, From her thou'lt know the journey of thy life." Unto the left hand then he turned his feet; We left the wall, and went towards the middle, Along a path that strikes into a valley, Which even up there unpleasant made its stench.

(22) That light known, then indeed we are stirred towards those Beings in longing and rejoicing over the radiance about them, just as earthly love is not for the material form but for the Beauty manifested upon it. Every one of those Beings exists for itself but becomes an object of desire by the colour cast upon it from The Good, source of those graces and of the love they evoke. The soul taking that outflow from the divine is stirred; seized with a Bacchic passion, goaded by these goads, it becomes Love. Before that, even Intellectual-Principle with all its loveliness did not stir the soul; for that beauty is dead until it take the light of The Good, and the soul lies supine, cold to all, unquickened even to Intellectual-Principle there before it. But when there enters into it a glow from the divine, it gathers strength, awakens, spreads true wings, and however urged by its nearer environing, speeds its buoyant way elsewhere, to something greater to its memory: so long as there exists anything loftier than the near, its very nature bears it upwards, lifted by the giver of that love. Beyond Intellectual-Principle it passes but beyond The Good it cannot, for nothing stands above That. Let it remain in Intellectual-Principle and it sees the lovely and august, but it is not there possessed of all it sought; the face it sees is beautiful no doubt but not of power to hold its gaze because lacking in the radiant grace which is the bloom upon beauty.

Even here we have to recognise that beauty is that which irradiates symmetry rather than symmetry itself and is that which truly calls out our love.

Why else is there more of the glory of beauty upon the living and only some faint trace of it upon the dead, though the face yet retains all its fulness and symmetry? Why are the most living portraits the most beautiful, even though the others happen to be more symmetric? Why is the living ugly more attractive than the sculptured handsome? It is that the one is more nearly what we are looking for, and this because there is soul there, because there is more of the Idea of The Good, because there is some glow of the light of The Good and this illumination awakens and lifts the soul and all that goes with it so that the whole man is won over to goodness, and in the fullest measure stirred to life.

(3) I was as one who still retains the feeling Of a forgotten vision, and endeavours In vain to bring it back into his mind, When I this invitation heard, deserving Of so much gratitude, it never fades Out of the book that chronicles the past. If at this moment sounded all the tongues That Polyhymnia and her sisters made Most lubrical with their delicious milk, To aid me, to a thousandth of the truth It would not reach, singing the holy smile And how the holy aspect it illumed. And therefore, representing Paradise, The sacred poem must perforce leap over, Even as a man who finds his way cut off; But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme, And of the mortal shoulder laden with it, Should blame it not, if under this it tremble. It is no passage for a little boat This which goes cleaving the audacious prow, Nor for a pilot who would spare himself. "Why doth my face so much enamour thee, That to the garden fair thou turnest not, Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?

(4) One day, Mahmud called his favourite to him and gave him his crown and made him sit on his throne, and said to him: 'Ayaz, I give you my kingdom and my army. Reign, for this country is yours; and I now wish you to take my place and throw your ear-ring of slavery to the Moon and the Fish.'

When the officers and courtiers heard about it their eves went black from jealousy and they said: 'Never in the world has a king given so much honour to a slave/ But Ay' wept, and they said to him: 'Have you lost your senses? You are no longer a slave but of the royalty. Why do you weep? Be contented!' Ay' replied: 'You do not see things as they are, you do not understand that the Sultan of this great countty has exiled me from his presence. He wishes me to rule his kingdom, but I do not wish to be separated from him. I wish to obey him but not to leave him. What have I to do with government and royalty? My happiness is in seeing his face.'

Learn from Ayaz how to sere God, you who remain idle day and night, occupied with cheap and 'ulgar pleasures. Ay' descends from the summit of power, but you do not stir from where you are, neither have you any wish to change yourself. To whom will you at last be able to tell your sorrows? So long as you depend on paradise and hell, how will you be able to understand the secret which I wish to reveal to you; but when you no longer depend on those to the dawn of the mystety will lift itself from the night. The garden of paradise moreover is not for the indifferent; and the empyrean is only for the men of heart.

(2) Then reigned within my lofty fantasy One crucified, disdainful and ferocious In countenance, and even thus was dying. Around him were the great Ahasuerus, Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, Who was in word and action so entire. And even as this image burst asunder Of its own self, in fashion of a bubble In which the water it was made of fails, There rose up in my vision a young maiden Bitterly weeping, and she said: "O queen, Why hast thou wished in anger to be naught? Thou'st slain thyself, Lavinia not to lose; Now hast thou lost me; I am she who mourns, Mother, at thine ere at another's ruin." As sleep is broken, when upon a sudden New light strikes in upon the eyelids closed, And broken quivers ere it dieth wholly, So this imagining of mine fell down As soon as the effulgence smote my face, Greater by far than what is in our wont. I turned me round to see where I might be, When said a voice, "Here is the passage up;" Which from all other purposes removed me,

(3) The parents of Laila refused to let Majnun go near their tents. But Majnun, intoxicated with love, borrowed the skin of a sheep from a shepherd in the desert, where Laila's tribe pitched their tents. He bent his head down and put on the sheep-skin, and said to the shepherd: 'In the name of God, let me crawl along in the middle of your sheep, then lead the flock past Laila's tent, so that I may perhaps discover her sweet perfume, and being concealed in this skin may contrive something.' The shepherd did as Majnun wished, and as they passed her tent he saw her, and swooned away. The shepherd then carried him from the tents into the desert and threw water on his face to cool his burning love.

Another day, Majnun was with some companions in the desert, and one of them asked him: 'How can you, a nobleman, go about naked? I wdll get some clothes for you if you wish.' Majnun said: 'No garments that I can wear are worthy of my friend, so for me there is nothing better than my bare body or a sheepskin. She, for me, is as ispand to avert the evil eye. Majnun would willingly wear garments of silk and cloth of gold, but he prefers this sheepskin by means of which he caught sight of Laila.'

Love should tear aside your prudence. Love changes your attitude. To love is to give up your ordinary life and forsake your tawdry pleasures.

(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.

(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) While I was doubting for my vision quenched, Out of the flame refulgent that had quenched it Issued a breathing, that attentive made me, Saying: "While thou recoverest the sense Of seeing which in me thou hast consumed, 'Tis well that speaking thou shouldst compensate it. Begin then, and declare to what thy soul Is aimed, and count it for a certainty, Sight is in thee bewildered and not dead; Because the Lady, who through this divine Region conducteth thee, has in her look The power the hand of Ananias had." I said: "As pleaseth her, or soon or late Let the cure come to eyes that portals were When she with fire I ever burn with entered. The Good, that gives contentment to this Court, The Alpha and Omega is of all The writing that love reads me low or loud." The selfsame voice, that taken had from me The terror of the sudden dazzlement, To speak still farther put it in my thought; And said: "In verity with finer sieve Behoveth thee to sift; thee it behoveth To say who aimed thy bow at such a target."

(25) "These experiences, when they have come to one, have left him in a new state of mind, and he has never been the same man afterward. Although the keenness of the recollection has worn off, there remains a certain memory which long afterward proves a source of comfort and strength to him, especially when he feels faint of faith and is shaken like a reed by the winds of conflicting opinions and speculations. The memory of such an experience is a source of renewed strength—a haven of refuge to which the weary soul flies for shelter from the outside world which understands it not. From the writings of the ancient philosophers of all races, from the songs of the great poets of all peoples, from the preachings of the prophets of all religions and times we can gather traces of this illumination which has come to them—this unfoldment of spiritual consciousness. One tells the story in one way, the other in other terms, but all tell practically the same essential story. All who have recognized this illumination, even in a faint degree, recognize the like experience in the tale, song, or preaching of another, though centuries may roll between them. It is the song of the Soul, which when once heard is never forgotten. Though it be sounded by the crude instruments of the semi-barbarous races, or the finished instruments of the talented musician of today, its strains are plainly recognized. From Old Egypt comes the song—from India of all ages—from Ancient Greece and Rome—from the early Christian saint—from the Quaker Friend—from the Catholic monasteries —from the Mohammedan Mosque—from the Chinese Philosopher—from the legends of the American Indian hero-prophet—it is always the same strain, and it is swelling louder and louder, as many more are taking it up and adding their voices or the sounds of their instruments to the grand chorus." The student must remember that in the experiences noted above, the individual simply has flashes, or period of dawning consciousness on this Sixth Plane of Consciousness, and is not to be regarded as having entered fully and completely into its manifestations, much less as having evolved into a state in which he functions normally and habitually on this high plane. There are beings—once men—who have evolved into the higher state in which they function normally and habitually on this plane of conscious being; but these individuals are no more than mere men, and have earned the right to be called "Demi-Gods." But, even as they once were men, so all men become as they now are by the unfoldment of this higher region of Self. These flashes of consciousness from this high plane are prophetic signs and messages indicating the awakening of the higher faculties, and giving assurance of further growth and unfoldment.

(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) Already on my Lady's face mine eyes Again were fastened, and with these my mind, And from all other purpose was withdrawn; And she smiled not; but "If I were to smile," She unto me began, "thou wouldst become Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes. Because my beauty, that along the stairs Of the eternal palace more enkindles, As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend, If it were tempered not, is so resplendent That all thy mortal power in its effulgence Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes. We are uplifted to the seventh splendour, That underneath the burning Lion's breast Now radiates downward mingled with his power. Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind, And make of them a mirror for the figure That in this mirror shall appear to thee." He who could know what was the pasturage My sight had in that blessed countenance, When I transferred me to another care, Would recognize how grateful was to me Obedience unto my celestial escort, By counterpoising one side with the other.

(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.

(2) Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven. O thou septentrional and widowed site, Because thou art deprived of seeing these! When from regarding them I had withdrawn, Turning a little to the other pole, There where the Wain had disappeared already, I saw beside me an old man alone, Worthy of so much reverence in his look, That more owes not to father any son. A long beard and with white hair intermingled He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses, Of which a double list fell on his breast. The rays of the four consecrated stars Did so adorn his countenance with light, That him I saw as were the sun before him. "Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river, Have fled away from the eternal prison?" Moving those venerable plumes, he said: "Who guided you? or who has been your lamp In issuing forth out of the night profound, That ever black makes the infernal valley? The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken? Or is there changed in heaven some council new, That being damned ye come unto my crags?"

(6) And for this reason it is that I bid thee put down such a sharp subtle thought, and cover him with a thick cloud of forgetting, be he never so holy nor promise he thee never so well for to help thee in thy purpose. For why, love may reach to God in this life, but not knowing. And all the whiles that the soul dwelleth in this deadly body, evermore is the sharpness of our understanding in beholding of all ghostly things, but most specially of God, mingled with some manner of fantasy; for the which our work should be unclean. And unless more wonder were, it should lead us into much error.

(3) With this prologue we come to our discussion of Memory.

That the soul, or mind, having taken no imprint, yet achieves perception of what it in no way contains need not surprise us; or rather, surprising though it is, we cannot refuse to believe in this remarkable power.

The Soul is the Reason-Principle of the universe, ultimate among the Intellectual Beings- its own essential Nature is one of the Beings of the Intellectual Realm- but it is the primal Reason-Principle of the entire realm of sense.

Thus it has dealings with both orders- benefited and quickened by the one, but by the other beguiled, falling before resemblances, and so led downwards as under spell. Poised midway, it is aware of both spheres.

Of the Intellectual it is said to have intuition by memory upon approach, for it knows them by a certain natural identity with them; its knowledge is not attained by besetting them, so to speak, but by in a definite degree possessing them; they are its natural vision; they are itself in a more radiant mode, and it rises from its duller pitch to that greater brilliance in a sort of awakening, a progress from its latency to its act.

To the sense-order it stands in a similar nearness and to such things it gives a radiance out of its own store and, as it were, elaborates them to visibility: the power is always ripe and, so to say, in travail towards them, so that, whenever it puts out its strength in the direction of what has once been present in it, it sees that object as present still; and the more intent its effort the more durable is the presence. This is why, it is agreed, children have long memory; the things presented to them are not constantly withdrawn but remain in sight; in their case the attention is limited but not scattered: those whose faculty and mental activity are busied upon a multitude of subjects pass quickly over all, lingering on none.

Now, if memory were a matter of seal-impressions retained, the multiplicity of objects would have no weakening effect on the memory. Further, on the same hypothesis, we would have no need of thinking back to revive remembrance; nor would we be subject to forgetting and recalling; all would lie engraved within.

The very fact that we train ourselves to remember shows that what we get by the process is a strengthening of the mind: just so, exercises for feet and hands enable us to do easily acts which in no sense contained or laid up in those members, but to which they may be fitted by persevering effort.

How else can it be explained that we forget a thing heard once or twice but remember what is often repeated, and that we recall a long time afterwards what at first hearing we failed to hold?

It is no answer to say that the parts present themselves sooner than the entire imprint- why should they too be forgotten?- the last hearing, or our effort to remember, brings the thing back to us in a flash.

All these considerations testify to an evocation of that faculty of the soul, or mind, in which remembrance is vested: the mind is strengthened, either generally or to this particular purpose.

Observe these facts: memory follows upon attention; those who have memorized much, by dint of their training in the use of leading indications , reach the point of being easily able to retain without such aid: must we not conclude that the basis of memory is the soul-power brought to full strength?

The lingering imprints of the other explanation would tell of weakness rather than power; for to take imprint easily is to be yielding. An impression is something received passively; the strongest memory, then, would go with the least active nature. But what happens is the very reverse: in no pursuit to technical exercises tend to make a man less the master of his acts and states. It is as with sense-perception; the advantage is not to the weak, the weak eye for example, but to that which has the fullest power towards its exercise. In the old, it is significant, the senses are dulled and so is the memory.

Sensation and memory, then, are not passivity but power.

And, once it is admitted that sensations are not impressions, the memory of a sensation cannot consist in the retention of an impression that was never made.

Yes: but if it is an active power of the mind, a fitness towards its particular purpose, why does it not come at once- and not with delay- to the recollection of its unchanging objects?

Simply because the power needs to be poised and prepared: in this it is only like all the others, which have to be readied for the task to which their power reaches, some operating very swiftly, others only after a certain self-concentration.

Quick memory does not in general go with quick wit: the two do not fall under the same mental faculty; runner and boxer are not often united in one person; the dominant idea differs from man to man.

Yet there could be nothing to prevent men of superior faculty from reading impressions on the mind; why should one thus gifted be incapable of what would be no more than a passive taking and holding?

That memory is a power of the Soul is established at a stroke by the consideration that the soul is without magnitude.

And- one general reflection- it is not extraordinary that everything concerning soul should proceed in quite other ways than appears to people who either have never enquired, or have hastily adopted delusive analogies from the phenomena of sense, and persist in thinking of perception and remembrance in terms of characters inscribed on plates or tablets; the impossibilities that beset this theory escape those that make the soul incorporeal equally with those to whom it is corporeal.

(3) Then, moved and mingled with the other lights, The soul that had addressed me showed how great An artist 'twas among the heavenly singers. To my right side I turned myself around, My duty to behold in Beatrice Either by words or gesture signified; And so translucent I beheld her eyes, So full of pleasure, that her countenance Surpassed its other and its latest wont. And as, by feeling greater delectation, A man in doing good from day to day Becomes aware his virtue is increasing, So I became aware that my gyration With heaven together had increased its arc, That miracle beholding more adorned. And such as is the change, in little lapse Of time, in a pale woman, when her face Is from the load of bashfulness unladen, Such was it in mine eyes, when I had turned, Caused by the whiteness of the temperate star, The sixth, which to itself had gathered me. Within that Jovial torch did I behold The sparkling of the love which was therein Delineate our language to mine eyes.

(2) "And I appeared in the cloud of the hymen, in silence, without my holy garment. With my will I honored my garment, which has three forms in the cloud of the hymen. And the light that was in silence, the one from the rejoicing power, contained me. I wore it. And its two parts appeared in a single form. Its other parts did not appear on account of the fire. I became unable to speak in the cloud of the hymen, for its fire was frightful, lifting itself up without diminishing. And so that my greatness and the word might appear, I placed likewise my other garment in the cloud of silence. I went into the middle region and put on the light that was in it, that was sunk in forgetfulness and that was separated from the spirit of astonishment, for he had cast off the burden. At my wish, nothing mortal appeared to him, but they were all immortal things that the spirit granted to him. And he said in the mind of the light, 'AI EIS AI OU PHAR DOU IA EI OU, I have come in great rest in order that he may give rest to my light in his root, and may bring it out of harmful nature.'