| |
| IF e’er the sacred poem, that hath made | |
| Both Heaven and earth copartners in its toil, | |
| And with lean abstinence, through many a year, | |
| Faded my brow, be destined to prevail | |
| Over the cruelty, which bars me forth | 5 |
| Of the fair sheep-fold, 1 where, a sleeping lamb, | |
| The wolves set on and fain had worried me; | |
| With other voice, and fleece of other grain, | |
| I shall forthwith return; and, standing up | |
| At my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath | 10 |
| Due to the poet’s temples: for I there | |
| First enter’d on the faith, which maketh souls | |
| Acceptable to God: and, for its sake, 2 | |
| Peter had then circled my forehead thus. | |
| Next from the squadron, whence had issued forth | 15 |
| The first fruit of Christ’s vicars on the earth, | |
| Toward us moved a light, at view whereof | |
| My Lady, full of gladness, spake to me: | |
| “Lo! lo! behold the peer of mickle might, | |
| That makes Galicia throng’d with visitants.” 3 | 20 |
| As when the ring-dove by his mate alights; | |
| In circles, each about the other wheels, | |
| And, murmuring, coos his fondness; thus saw I | |
| One, of the other 4 great and glorious prince, | |
| With kindly greeting, hail’d; extolling, both, | 25 |
| Their heavenly banqueting: but when an end | |
| Was to their gratulation, silent, each, | |
| Before me sat they down, so burning bright, | |
| I could not look upon them. Smiling then, | |
| Beatrice spake: “O life in glory shrined! | 30 |
| Who 5 didst the largess of our kingly court | |
| Set down with faithful pen, let now thy voice, | |
| Of hope the praises, in this height resound. | |
| For well thou know’st, who figurest it as oft, | |
| As Jesus, to ye three, more brightly shone.” | 35 |
| “Lift up thy head; and be thou strong in trust: | |
| For that, which hither from the mortal world | |
| Arriveth, must be ripen’d in our beam.” | |
| Such cheering accents from the second flame 6 | |
| Assured me; and mine eyes I lifted up 7 | 40 |
| Unto the mountains, that had bow’d them late | |
| With over-heavy burden. “Sith our Liege | |
| Wills of His grace, that thou, or e’er thy death, | |
| In the most secret council with His lords | |
| Shouldst be confronted, so that having view’d | 45 |
| The glories of our court, thou mayest therewith | |
| Thyself, and all who hear, invigorate | |
| With hope, that leads to blissful end; declare, | |
| What is that hope? how it doth flourish in thee? | |
| And whence thou hadst it?” Thus, proceeding still, | 50 |
| The second light: and she, whose gentle love | |
| My soaring pennons in that lofty flight | |
| Escorted, thus preventing me, rejoin’d: | |
| “Among her sons, not one more full of hope, | |
| Hath the Church Militant: so ’tis of him | 55 |
| Recorded in the Sun, whose liberal orb | |
| Enlightened all our tribe: and ere his term | |
| Of warfare, hence permitted he is come, | |
| From Egypt to Jerusalem, 8 to see. | |
| The other points, both which 9 thou hast inquired, | 60 |
| Not for more knowledge, but that he may tell | |
| How dear thou hold’st the virtue; these to him | |
| Leave I: for he may answer thee with ease, | |
| And without boasting, so God give him grace.” | |
| Like to the scholar, practised in his task, | 65 |
| Who, willing to give proof of diligence, | |
| Seconds his teacher gladly; “Hope,” said I, | |
| “Is of the joy to come a sure expectance, | |
| The effect of grace divine and merit preceding. | |
| This light from many a star, visits my heart; | 70 |
| But flow’d to me, the first, from him who sang | |
| The songs of the Supreme; himself supreme | |
| Among his tuneful brethren. ‘Let all hope | |
| In thee,’ so spake his anthem, ‘who have known | |
| Thy name;’ and, with my faith, who knows not that? | 75 |
| From thee, the next, distilling from his spring, | |
| In thine epistle, fell on me the drops | |
| So plenteously, that I on others shower | |
| The influence of their dew.” Whileas I spake, | |
| A lamping, as of quick and volley’d lightning, | 80 |
| Within the bosom of that mighty sheen 10 | |
| Play’d tremulous; then forth these accents breathed: | |
| “Love for the virtue, which attended me | |
| E’en to the palm, and issuing from the field, | |
| Glows vigorous yet within me; and inspires | 85 |
| To ask of thee, whom also it delights, | |
| What promise thou from hope, in chief, dost win.” | |
| “Both scriptures, new and ancient,” I replied, | |
| “Propose the mark (which even now I view) | |
| For souls beloved of God. Isaias 11 saith, | 90 |
| ‘That, in their own land, each one must be clad | |
| In two-fold vesture;’ and their proper land | |
| Is this delicious life. In terms more full, | |
| And clearer far, thy brother 12 hath set forth | |
| This revelation to us, where he tells | 95 |
| Of the white raiment destined to the saints.” | |
| And, as the words were ending, from above, | |
| “They hope in Thee!” first heard we cried: whereto | |
| Answer’d the carols all. Amidst them next, | |
| A light of so clear amplitude emerged, | 100 |
| That winter’s month were but a single day, | |
| Were such a crystal in the Cancer’s sign. | |
| Like as a virgin riseth up, and goes, | |
| And enters on the mazes of the dance; | |
| Though gay, yet innocent of worse intent, | 105 |
| Than to do fitting honour to the bride: | |
| So I beheld the new effulgence come | |
| Unto the other two, who in a ring | |
| Wheel’d, as became their rapture. In the dance, | |
| And in the song, it mingled. And the dame | 110 |
| Held on them fix’d her looks; e’en as the spouse, | |
| Silent, and moveless. “This 13 is he, who lay | |
| Upon the bosom of our Pelican: | |
| This he, into whose keeping, from the Cross, | |
| The mighty charge was given.” Thus she spake: | 115 |
| Yet therefore naught the more removed her sight | |
| From marking them: or e’er her words began, | |
| Or when they closed. As he, who looks intent, | |
| And strives with searching ken, how he may see | |
| The sun in his eclipse, and, through desire | 120 |
| Of seeing, loseth power of sight; so I 14 | |
| Peer’d on that last resplendence, while I heard: | |
| “Why dazzlest thou thine eyes in seeking that, | |
| Which here abides not? Earth my body is, | |
| In earth; and shall be, with the rest, so long, | 125 |
| As till our number equal the decree | |
| Of the Most High. The two 15 that have ascended, | |
| In this our blessed cloister, shine alone | |
| With the two garments. So report below.” | |
| As when, for ease of labour, or to shun | 130 |
| Suspected peril, at a whistle’s breath, | |
| The oars, erewhile dash’d frequent in the wave, | |
| All rest: the flamy circle at that voice | |
| So rested; and the mingling sound was still, | |
| Which from the trinal band, soft-breathing, rose. | 135 |
| I turn’d, but ah! how trembled in my thought, | |
| When, looking at my side again to see | |
| Beatrice, I described her not; although, | |
| Not distant, on the happy coast she stood. | |
