Paradiso
Canto XXIII
The Triumph of Christ is made visible. Christ ascends out of sight, followed by the Virgin, round whom circles the archangel Gabriel.
STILL as the bird, ’mid the belovèd leaves,
Reposing on the nest of her sweet brood
Through night, which all things from our vision thieves,
Who, to have longed-for sight of them renewed
And once again to find them, where she may
(Hard toil she taketh pleasure in), their food,
Fore-runs the time, high on the open spray,
And warm with love awaits the earliest light,
Only intent that dawn may bring the day;
So was my Lady, standing all upright [10]
And stretched in yearning toward the region where
The sun shows least of hasting in his flight.
And eyeing the suspense in her rapt air,
I was like one who wants, and who is fain
Of what he has not, and with hope must bear.
But short the space was between when and then,
I mean between the expectancy I had
And seeing in heaven splendour on splendour gain.
“Behold the assembled hosts,” Beatrice said;
“Behold Christ triumphing, and all the fruit [20]
These spheres have in their circling harvested.”
Joy in her aspect was so absolute,
And such a flame shone in her countenance,
That words are idle, and I must needs be mute.
As in a full moon’s tranquil brilliance
Trivia smiles among the nymphs who paint[i]26. “Trivia” is one of the names of Diana: the moon.
Eternally Heaven’s uttermost expanse,
Over a myriad lamps preëminent
I saw one Sun which kindled each and all,[ii]29. “One Sun”: Christ.
As light from our sun to the stars is lent; [30]
And through the living light shone forth the whole
Irradiated Substance, so intense[iii]32. “Substance”: the humanity of Christ.
Upon my eyes, I needs must let them fall.
O Beatrice, dear Guide! sweet Influence!
She said to me: “What masters now thy sight
Is power against which nothing hath defence.
Within there is the wisdom and the might
Which between earth and heaven the pathways found
Longed-for of old with longing infinite.”
As fire is from the fettering cloud unbound, [40]
Expanding till it needs must overflow,
And, against nature, rushes to the ground,
So did my mind amid these feasts outgrow
Itself, and was dilated, and became
What recollection hath no skill to show.
“Open thine eyes and look on what I am!
Thou hast seen things which of thy weakness make
Strength to sustain my smile, nor fear the flame.”
I was like one who comes to himself awake
From a forgotten vision, and is stirred [50]
Vainly to bring it to his memory back,
When—worthy of such great thanksgiving—I heard
This proffered boon, which nothing can erase
From that book where the past is registered.
Were all those tongues now sounding in her praise
Which Polyhymnia and her sisters made[iv]56. “Polyhymnia and her sisters”: the Muses.
Rich with the sweetest milk that ever was,
Not by a thousandth of the truth their aid
Could hymn the holy smiling of the eyes
And what pure light from the holy face it rayed; [60]
Therefore in picturing forth Paradise
Needs must the sacred poem take a leap,
As when some barrier on the pathway lies.
But he who thinks how heavy a theme to grip
Is here for mortal, shouldering such a weight,
Will think no blame if sometimes the foot slip.
No passage for a little barque is that
Which my adventurous keel is set to plough,
Nor for a pilot losing heart thereat.
“Why does my face enamour so, that thou [70]
On the fair garden hast no glance bestowed
Which flowers beneath Christ’s rays? Behold it now!
Here is the Rose, wherein the Word of God[v]73-74. “The Rose”: Mary. “The lilies’: the Apostles.
Made itself flesh; and there the lilies are
Whose fragrance lured to follow the good road.”
So Beatrice; and I, all prompt to hear
Her counsels and obey them, once again
Betook me to the fluttering eyelids’ war.
As, with my eyes in shadow, I have seen
A meadow of flowers flashed over by the sun, [80]
When cloud breaks and a pure ray glides between,
Many a clustered splendour, blazed upon
By ardent beams, was to my eyes revealed,
Although I saw not whence the blazing shone.
O benign Power, who hast these spirits sealed,
Thou didst withdraw thee on high, that to my sight,
So feebly empowered, this room thou mightest yield.
The name of the fair flower, which day and night[vi]88. “The name”: the mention of Mary.
My lips continually invoke, compelled
My mind to gaze upon the greatest light; [90]
And when distinct in both mine eyes were held
The glory and grandeur of the living star
Which excels there as down here it excelled,
A fire descended out of heaven from far[vii]94. The “fire” is perhaps the Archangel Gabriel.
Shaped in a circle like a coronal,
Which turned and turned as it engirdled her.
Whatever music sounds most sweet of all
On earth, and draws the soul most in desire,
Would seem cloud crackling in the thunder’s brawl
Compared with the resounding of that lyre [100]
Whereby the beautiful Sapphire was crowned[viii]101. “The Sapphire” is Mary.
Which makes the clearest heaven all one sapphire.
“I am angelic love and circle round
The sublime joy, which breathes out from the womb
Wherein the world’s desire its hostel found.
And I shall circle, Lady of Heaven, till home
Thou thy son follow into the sphere supreme
And make it more divine since thou art come.”
Thus the encircling melody of flame
Sealed itself up, and the other lights in praise [110]
Made all the air re-echo Mary’s name.
The royal mantle of all the wheeling maze[ix]112. “The royal mantle”: the Empyrean.
Of the universe, whose ardour burns most hot,
Most quickened in God’s breath and in His ways,
Had the inner border of it so far remote
Above, that in my vision’s narrower scope,
Where I was stationed, I discerned it not.
Therefore my eyes’ endeavour might not hope
To accompany the crownèd flame beyond,
As after her own seed she mounted up. [120][x]120. “Her own seed”: Christ.
And as the child who toward his mother fond
Stretches his arms when he has milked her breast—
The spirit flaming outward to respond—
Each of those white fires strained into a crest
Its flame, so that the affection infinite
They had for Mary was made manifest.
There for a while they lingered in my sight
Singing Regina Coeli, in tone so steeped[xi]128. “Regina Coeli”: “Queen of Heaven,” an antiphon.
In sweetness, I still taste of the delight.
O how immense is the abundance heaped [130]
Into those bursting coffers, which on earth
Were sowers of the good grain to be reaped!
Here joy they in their treasure, earned in dearth
Of exile, when they wept in Babylon,[xii]134. The “exile” of “Babylon” is the earthly life.
Where gold was left aside as nothing worth.
Here triumphs, under the exalted Son
Of God and Mary, in his victory,
With the ancient council and the later one,[xiii]138-139. With the souls of the Old and the New Covenant, the Prophets and the Apostles. “He who . . .”: St. Peter.
He who of so great glory holds the key.