The eyes beloved and revered of God, Fastened upon the speaker, showed to us How grateful unto her are prayers devout; Then unto the Eternal Light they turned, On which it is not credible could be By any creature bent an eye so clear. And I, who to the end of all desires Was now approaching, even as I ought The ardour of desire within me ended. Bernard was beckoning unto me, and smiling, That I should upward look; but I already Was entering more and more into the ray Even as he is who seeth in a dream, And after dreaming the imprinted passion Even such am I, for almost utterly Ceases my vision, and distilleth yet Within my heart the sweetness born of it; Even thus upon the wind in the light leaves From the conceits of mortals, to my mind And by a little sounding in these verses, Which I endured would have bewildered me, On this account to bear, so that I joined I saw that in its depth far down is lying Bound up with love together in one volume, What through the universe in leaves is scattered; Substance, and accident, and their operations, All interfused together in such wise That what I speak of is one simple light. Methinks I saw, since more abundantly One moment is more lethargy to me, Than five and twenty centuries to the emprise That startled Neptune with the shade of Argo! My mind in this wise wholly in suspense, Steadfast, immovable, attentive gazed, And evermore with gazing grew enkindled. Of what I yet remember, than an infant's But through the sight, that fortified itself Of the High Light appeared to me three circles, Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed. O how all speech is feeble and falls short Of my conceit, and this to what I saw Is such, 'tis not enough to call it little! O Light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest, Sole knowest thyself, and, known unto thyself And knowing, lovest and smilest on thyself! That circulation, which being thus conceived Appeared in thee as a reflected light, When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes, Within itself, of its own very colour Seemed to me painted with our effigy, As the geometrician, who endeavours To square the circle, and discovers not, By taking thought, the principle he wants, Even such was I at that new apparition; I wished to see how the image to the circle Had it not been that then my mind there smote Here vigour failed the lofty fantasy: But now was turning my desire and will, The Love which moves the sun and the other stars. ་་་ 39 145 143 |