"O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest!

Who, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in h.e.l.l To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd!

For all mine eyes have seen, I, to thy power And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave, Thou hast to freedom brought me; and no means, For my deliverance apt, hast left untried.

Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep.

That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, Is loosen'd from this body, it may find Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr'd: And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down, And smil'd; then tow'rds th' eternal fountain turn'd.

And thus the senior, holy and rever'd: "That thou at length mayst happily conclude Thy voyage (to which end I was dispatch'd, By supplication mov'd and holy love) Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large, This garden through: for so, by ray divine Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount; And from heav'n's queen, whom fervent I adore, All gracious aid befriend us; for that I Am her own faithful Bernard." Like a wight, Who haply from Croatia wends to see Our Veronica, and the while 't is shown, Hangs over it with never-sated gaze, And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith Unto himself in thought: "And didst thou look E'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and G.o.d?

And was this semblance thine?" So gaz'd I then Adoring; for the charity of him, Who musing, in the world that peace enjoy'd, Stood lively before me. "Child of grace!"

Thus he began: "thou shalt not knowledge gain Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held Still in this depth below. But search around The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy Seated in state, the queen, that of this realm Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I rais'd; and bright, As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime Above th' horizon, where the sun declines; To mine eyes, that upward, as from vale To mountain sped, at th' extreme bound, a part Excell'd in l.u.s.tre all the front oppos'd.

And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave, That waits the sloping beam, which Phaeton Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst; So burn'd the peaceful oriflame, and slack'd On every side the living flame decay'd.

And in that midst their sportive pennons wav'd Thousands of angels; in resplendence each Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee And carol, smil'd the Lovely One of heav'n, That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.

Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, As is the colouring in fancy's loom, 'T were all too poor to utter the least part Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes Intent on her, that charm'd him, Bernard gaz'd With so exceeding fondness, as infus'd Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.

CANTO x.x.xII

Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high, a.s.sum'd the teacher's part, and mild began: "The wound, that Mary clos'd, she open'd first, Who sits so beautiful at Mary's feet.

The third in order, underneath her, lo!

Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next, Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid, Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songs Of sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.

All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf, Are in gradation throned on the rose.

And from the seventh step, successively, Adown the breathing tresses of the flow'r Still doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.

For these are a part.i.tion wall, whereby The sacred stairs are sever'd, as the faith In Christ divides them. On this part, where blooms Each leaf in full maturity, are set Such as in Christ, or ere he came, believ'd.

On th' other, where an intersected s.p.a.ce Yet shows the semicircle void, abide All they, who look'd to Christ already come.

And as our Lady on her glorious stool, And they who on their stools beneath her sit, This way distinction make: e'en so on his, The mighty Baptist that way marks the line (He who endur'd the desert and the pains Of martyrdom, and for two years of h.e.l.l, Yet still continued holy), and beneath, Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest, Thus far from round to round. So heav'n's decree Forecasts, this garden equally to fill.

With faith in either view, past or to come, Learn too, that downward from the step, which cleaves Midway the twain compartments, none there are Who place obtain for merit of their own, But have through others' merit been advanc'd, On set conditions: spirits all releas'd, Ere for themselves they had the power to choose.

And, if thou mark and listen to them well, Their childish looks and voice declare as much.

"Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt; And gladly will I loose the knot, wherein Thy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realm Excluded, chalice no entrance here may find, No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.

A law immutable hath establish'd all; Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit, Exactly, as the finger to the ring.

It is not therefore without cause, that these, O'erspeedy comers to immortal life, Are different in their shares of excellence.

Our Sovran Lord--that settleth this estate In love and in delight so absolute, That wish can dare no further--every soul, Created in his joyous sight to dwell, With grace at pleasure variously endows.

And for a proof th' effect may well suffice.

And 't is moreover most expressly mark'd In holy scripture, where the twins are said To, have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as grace Inweaves the coronet, so every brow Weareth its proper hue of orient light.

And merely in respect to his prime gift, Not in reward of meritorious deed, Hath each his several degree a.s.sign'd.

In early times with their own innocence More was not wanting, than the parents' faith, To save them: those first ages past, behoov'd That circ.u.mcision in the males should imp The flight of innocent wings: but since the day Of grace hath come, without baptismal rites In Christ accomplish'd, innocence herself Must linger yet below. Now raise thy view Unto the visage most resembling Christ: For, in her splendour only, shalt thou win The pow'r to look on him." Forthwith I saw Such floods of gladness on her visage shower'd, From holy spirits, winging that profound; That, whatsoever I had yet beheld, Had not so much suspended me with wonder, Or shown me such similitude of G.o.d.

And he, who had to her descended, once, On earth, now hail'd in heav'n; and on pois'd wing.

"Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena," sang: To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court, From all parts answ'ring, rang: that holier joy Brooded the deep serene. "Father rever'd: Who deign'st, for me, to quit the pleasant place, Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot!

Say, who that angel is, that with such glee Beholds our queen, and so enamour'd glows Of her high beauty, that all fire he seems."

So I again resorted to the lore Of my wise teacher, he, whom Mary's charms Embellish'd, as the sun the morning star; Who thus in answer spake: "In him are summ'd, Whatever of buxomness and free delight May be in Spirit, or in angel, met: And so beseems: for that he bare the palm Down unto Mary, when the Son of G.o.d Vouchsaf'd to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.

Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words, And note thou of this just and pious realm The chiefest n.o.bles. Those, highest in bliss, The twain, on each hand next our empress thron'd, Are as it were two roots unto this rose.

He to the left, the parent, whose rash taste Proves bitter to his seed; and, on the right, That ancient father of the holy church, Into whose keeping Christ did give the keys Of this sweet flow'r: near whom behold the seer, That, ere he died, saw all the grievous times Of the fair bride, who with the lance and nails Was won. And, near unto the other, rests The leader, under whom on manna fed Th' ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.

On th' other part, facing to Peter, lo!

Where Anna sits, so well content to look On her lov'd daughter, that with moveless eye She chants the loud hosanna: while, oppos'd To the first father of your mortal kind, Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped, When on the edge of ruin clos'd thine eye.

"But (for the vision hasteneth so an end) Here break we off, as the good workman doth, That shapes the cloak according to the cloth: And to the primal love our ken shall rise; That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, far As sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in sooth Beating thy pennons, thinking to advance, Thou backward fall'st. Grace then must first be gain'd; Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayer Seek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue, Attend, and yield me all thy heart." He said, And thus the saintly orison began.

CANTO x.x.xIII

"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son, Created beings all in lowliness Surpa.s.sing, as in height, above them all, Term by th' eternal counsel pre-ordain'd, Enn.o.bler of thy nature, so advanc'd In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn, Himself, in his own work enclos'd to dwell!

For in thy womb rekindling shone the love Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now This flower to germin in eternal peace!

Here thou to us, of charity and love, Art, as the noon-day torch: and art, beneath, To mortal men, of hope a living spring.

So mighty art thou, lady! and so great, That he who grace desireth, and comes not To thee for aidance, fain would have desire Fly without wings. Nor only him who asks, Thy bounty succours, but doth freely oft Forerun the asking. Whatsoe'er may be Of excellence in creature, pity mild, Relenting mercy, large munificence, Are all combin'd in thee. Here kneeleth one, Who of all spirits hath review'd the state, From the world's lowest gap unto this height.

Suppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace For virtue, yet more high to lift his ken Toward the bliss supreme. And I, who ne'er Coveted sight, more fondly, for myself, Than now for him, my prayers to thee prefer, (And pray they be not scant) that thou wouldst drive Each cloud of his mortality away; That on the sovran pleasure he may gaze.

This also I entreat of thee, O queen!

Who canst do what thou wilt! that in him thou Wouldst after all he hath beheld, preserve Affection sound, and human pa.s.sions quell.

Lo! Where, with Beatrice, many a saint Stretch their clasp'd hands, in furtherance of my suit!"

The eyes, that heav'n with love and awe regards, Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign She looks on pious pray'rs: then fasten'd they On th' everlasting light, wherein no eye Of creature, as may well be thought, so far Can travel inward. I, meanwhile, who drew Near to the limit, where all wishes end, The ardour of my wish (for so behooved), Ended within me. Beck'ning smil'd the sage, That I should look aloft: but, ere he bade, Already of myself aloft I look'd; For visual strength, refining more and more, Bare me into the ray authentical Of sovran light. Thenceforward, what I saw, Was not for words to speak, nor memory's self To stand against such outrage on her skill.

As one, who from a dream awaken'd, straight, All he hath seen forgets; yet still retains Impression of the feeling in his dream; E'en such am I: for all the vision dies, As 't were, away; and yet the sense of sweet, That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart.

Thus in the sun-thaw is the snow unseal'd; Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost The Sybil's sentence. O eternal beam!

(Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?) Yield me again some little particle Of what thou then appearedst, give my tongue Power, but to leave one sparkle of thy glory, Unto the race to come, that shall not lose Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught Of memory in me, and endure to hear The record sound in this unequal strain.

Such keenness from the living ray I met, That, if mine eyes had turn'd away, methinks, I had been lost; but, so embolden'd, on I pa.s.s'd, as I remember, till my view Hover'd the brink of dread infinitude.

O grace! unenvying of thy boon! that gav'st Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken On th' everlasting splendour, that I look'd, While sight was unconsum'd, and, in that depth, Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whatever The universe unfolds; all properties Of substance and of accident, beheld, Compounded, yet one individual light The whole. And of such bond methinks I saw The universal form: for that whenever I do but speak of it, my soul dilates Beyond her proper self; and, till I speak, One moment seems a longer lethargy, Than five-and-twenty ages had appear'd To that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder At Argo's shadow darkening on his flood.

With fixed heed, suspense and motionless, Wond'ring I gaz'd; and admiration still Was kindled, as I gaz'd. It may not be, That one, who looks upon that light, can turn To other object, willingly, his view.

For all the good, that will may covet, there Is summ'd; and all, elsewhere defective found, Complete. My tongue shall utter now, no more E'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's That yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast.

Not that the semblance of the living light Was chang'd (that ever as at first remain'd) But that my vision quickening, in that sole Appearance, still new miracles descry'd, And toil'd me with the change. In that abyss Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd methought, Three orbs of triple hue clipt in one bound: And, from another, one reflected seem'd, As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third Seem'd fire, breath'd equally from both. Oh speech How feeble and how faint art thou, to give Conception birth! Yet this to what I saw Is less than little. Oh eternal light!

Sole in thyself that dwellst; and of thyself Sole understood, past, present, or to come!

Thou smiledst; on that circling, which in thee Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mus'd; For I therein, methought, in its own hue Beheld our image painted: steadfastly I therefore por'd upon the view. As one Who vers'd in geometric lore, would fain Measure the circle; and, though pondering long And deeply, that beginning, which he needs, Finds not; e'en such was I, intent to scan The novel wonder, and trace out the form, How to the circle fitted, and therein How plac'd: but the flight was not for my wing; Had not a flash darted athwart my mind, And in the spleen unfolded what it sought.

Here vigour fail'd the tow'ring fantasy: But yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel In even motion, by the Love impell'd, That moves the sun in heav'n and all the stars.

THE VISION

OF

PURGATORY

BY DANTE ALIGHIERI

Complete

TRANSLATED BY

THE REV. H. F. CARY