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The rose

of Paradise and the angelic host





O Trinal Light, that in a single star

Sparkling upon their sight so satisfies them,

Look down upon our tempest here below! If the barbarians, coming from some region

That every day by Helice is covered,

Revolving with her son whom she delights in, Beholding Rome and all her noble works,

Were wonder-struck, what time the Lateran

Above all mortal things was eminent,
I who to the divine had from the human,

From time unto eternity, had come,

From Florence to a people just and sane, With what amazement must I have been filled !

Truly between this and the joy, it was

My pleasure not to hear, and to be mute. And as a pilgrim who delighteth him

In gazing round the temple of his vow,

And hopes some day to retell how it was, So through the living light my way pursuing

Directed I mine eyes o’er all the ranks,

Now up, now down, and now all round about. Faces I saw of charity persuasive

Embellished by His light and their own smile,

And attitudes adorned with every grace. The general form of Paradise already

My glance had comprehended as a whole,

In no part hitherto remaining fixed,
And round I turned me with rekindled wish

My Lady to interrogate of things

Concerning which my mind was in suspense.
One thing I meant, another answered me;
I thought I should see Beatrice, and saw




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