The Providence that regulates all this
Makes with its light the heaven forever quiet, Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste. And thither now, as to a site decreed,
Bears us away the virtue of that cord Which aims its arrows at a joyous mark. True is it, that as oftentimes the form
Accords not with the intention of the art, Because in answering is matter deaf,
So likewise from this course doth deviate
Sometimes the creature, who the power possesses, Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,
(In the same wise as one may see the fire Fall from a cloud,) if the first impetus Earthward is wrested by some false delight.
Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge, At thine ascent, than at a rivulet
From some high mount descending to the lowland.
Marvel it would be in thee, if deprived
Of hindrance, thou wert seated down below, As if on earth the living fire were quiet." Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.
O YE, who in some pretty little boat,
Eager to listen, have been following Behind my ship, that singing sails along, Turn back to look again upon your shores;
Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure, In losing me, you might yourselves be lost. The sea I sail has never yet been passed;
Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo, And Muses nine point out to me the Bears. Ye other few who have the neck uplifted
Betimes to th' bread of Angels upon which One liveth here and grows not sated by it, Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you Upon the water that grows smooth again. Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be, When Jason they beheld a ploughman made!
The con-created and perpetual thirst
For the realm deiform did bear us on, As swift almost as ye the heavens behold. Upward gazed Beatrice, and I at her;
And in such space perchance as strikes a bolt And flies, and from the notch unlocks itself, Arrived I saw me where a wondrous thing
Drew to itself my sight; and therefore she From whom no care of mine could be concealed, Towards me turning, blithe as beautiful,
Said unto me: "Fix gratefully thy mind
On God, who unto the first star has brought us." It seemed to me a cloud encompassed us,
Luminous, dense, consolidate and bright As adamant on which the sun is striking. Into itself did the eternal pearl
Receive us, even as water doth receive A ray of light, remaining still unbroken. If I was body, (and we here conceive not
How one dimension tolerates another, Which needs must be if body enter body,) More the desire should be enkindled in us
That essence to behold, wherein is seen How God and our own nature were united. There will be seen what we receive by faith,
Not demonstrated, but self-evident
In guise of the first truth that man believes
I made reply: "Madonna, as devoutly
As most I can do I give thanks to Him Who has removed me from the mortal world.
But tell me what the dusky spots may be
Upon this body, which below on earth Make people tell that fabulous tale of Cain ?" Somewhat she smiled; and then, "If the opinion Of mortals be erroneous," she said, "Where'er the key of sense doth not unlock, Certes, the shafts of wonder should not pierce thee Now, forasmuch as, following the senses, Thou seest that the reason has short wings. But tell me what thou think'st of it thyself."
And I: "What seems to us up here diverse, Is caused, I think, by bodies rare and dense." And she "Right truly shalt thou see immersed In error thy belief, if well thou hearest The argument that I shall make against it.
Lights many the eighth sphere displays to you Which in their quality and quantity May noted be of aspects different.
If this were caused by rare and dense alone, One only virtue would there be in all Or more or less diffused, or equally. Virtues diverse must be perforce the fruits
Of formal principles; and these, save one, Of course would by thy reasoning be destroyed.
Besides, if rarity were of this dimness
The cause thou askest, either through and through This planet thus attenuate were of matter,
Or else, as in a body is apportioned
The fat and lean, so in like manner this Would in its volume interchange the leaves. Were it the former, in the sun's eclipse
It would be manifest by the shining through Of light, as through aught tenuous interfused. This is not so; hence we must scan the other, And if it chance the other I demolish, Then falsified will thy opinion be. But if this rarity go not through and through,
There needs must be a limit, beyond which Its contrary prevents the further passing, And thence the foreign radiance is reflected,
Even as a colour cometh back from glass, The which behind itself concealeth lead. Now thou wilt say the sunbeam shows itself
More dimly there than in the other parts, By being there reflected farther back. From this reply experiment will free thee
If e'er thou try it, which is wont to be The fountain to the rivers of your arts. Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove Alike from thee, the other more remote Between the former two shall meet thine eyes. Turned towards these, cause that behind thy back Be placed a light, illuming the three mirrors And coming back to thee by all reflected. Though in its quantity be not so ample
The image most remote, there shalt thou see How it perforce is equally resplendent. Now, as beneath the touches of warm rays Naked the subject of the snow remains Both of its former colour and its cold,
Thee, thus remaining in thy intellect, Will I inform with such a living light, That it shall tremble in its aspect to thee. Within the heaven of the divine repose
Revolves a body, in whose virtue lies The being of whatever it contains. The following heaven, that has so many eyes, Divides this being by essences diverse, Distinguished from it, and by it contained. The other spheres, by various differences,
All the distinctions which they have within them Dispose unto their ends and their effects. Thus do these organs of the world proceed,
As thou perceivest now, from grade to grade; Since from above they take, and act beneath. Observe me well, how through this place I come Unto the truth thou wishest, that hereafter Thou mayst alone know how to keep the ford. The power and motion of the holy spheres,
As from the artisan the hammer's craft, Forth from the blessed motors must proceed. The heaven, which lights so manifold make fair,
From the Intelligence profound, which turns it, The image takes, and makes of it a seal.
And even as the soul within your dust
Through members different and accommodated To faculties diverse expands itself,
So likewise this Intelligence diffuses
Its virtue multiplied among the stars. Itself revolving on its unity.
Virtue diverse doth a diverse alloyage
Make with the precious body that it quickens, In which, as life in you, it is combined.
From the glad nature whence it is derived,
The mingled virtue through the body shines, Even as gladness through the living pupil. From this proceeds, whate'er from light to light
Appeareth different, not from dense and rare: This is the formal principle that produces, According to its goodness, dark and bright."
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. "Marvel thou not," she said to me, "because I smile at this thy puerile conceit, Since on the truth it trusts not yet its foot, But turns thee, as 'tis wont, on emptiness.
True substances are these which thou beholdest, Here relegate for breaking of some vow. Therefore speak with them, listen and believe; For the true light, which giveth peace to them, Permits them not to turn from it their feet.” And I unto the shade that seemed most wishful To speak directed me, and I began, As one whom too great eagerness bewilders:
"O well-created spirit, who in the rays
Of life eternal dost the sweetness taste
Which being untasted ne'er is comprehended,
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