Beatrice stood unmov'd; and I with ken6
Fix'd upon her, from upward gaze remov'd
At her aspect, such inwardly became
As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb, That made him peer among the ocean gods; Words may not tell of that transhuman change:
And therefore let the example serve, though weak, For those whom grace hath better proof in store
If I were only what thou didst create,
Then newly, Love! by whom the heav'n is rul'd, Thou know'st, who by thy light didst bear me up. Whenas the wheel which thou dost ever guide, Desired Spirit! with its harmony
Temper'd of thee and measur'd, charm'd mine ear, Then seem'd to me so much of heav'n to blaze With the sun's flame, that rain or flood ne'er made A lake so broad. The newness of the sound,
And that great light, inflam'd me with desire,
Keener than e'er was felt, to know their cause.
Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself, To calm my troubled mind, before I ask'd, Open'd her lips, and gracious thus began: "With false imagination thou thyself
Mak'st dull, so that thou seest not the thing, Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off. Thou art not on the earth as thou believ'st;
For light'ning scap'd from its own proper place
Ne'er ran, as thou hast hither now return'd."
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Although divested of my first-rais'd doubt,
By those brief words, accompanied with smiles, Yet in new doubt was I entangled more,
And said: "Already satisfied, I rest
From admiration deep, but now admire
How I above those lighter bodies rise."
Whence, after utt'rance of a piteous sigh,
She tow'rds me bent her eyes, with such a look, As on her frenzied child a mother casts;
Then thus began: "Among themselves all things Have order; and from hence the form, which makes The universe resemble God. In this
The higher creatures see the printed steps Of that eternal worth, which is the end Whither the line is drawn. All natures lean, In this their order, diversely, some more,
Some less approaching to their primal source. Thus they to different havens are mov'd on Through the vast sea of being, and each one With instinct giv'n, that bears it in its course; This to the lunar sphere directs the fire,
This prompts the hearts of mortal animals, This the brute earth together knits, and binds. Nor only creatures, void of intellect,
Are aim'd at by this bow; but even those,
That have intelligence and love, are pierc'd.
That Providence, who so well orders all,
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With her own light makes ever calm the heaven, In which the substance, that hath greatest speed, Is turn'd: and thither now, as to our seat Predestin'd, we are carried by the force
Of that strong cord, that never looses dart, But at fair aim and glad. Yet is it true,
That as ofttimes but ill accords the form To the design of art, through sluggishness Of unreplying matter, so this course
Is sometimes quitted by the creature, who Hath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere; As from a cloud the fire is seen to fall,
From its original impulse warp'd, to earth, By vicious fondness. Thou no more admire Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem,) than lapse
Of torrent downwards from a mountain's height. There would in thee for wonder be more cause, If, free of hind'rance, thou hadst fix'd thyself Below, like fire unmoving on the earth."
So said, she turn'd toward the heav'n her face.
CANTO II
All ye, who in small bark have following sail'd,
Eager to listen, on the advent'rous track
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Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way, Backward return with speed, and your own shores Revisit, nor put out to open sea,
Where losing me, perchance ye may remain Bewilder'd in deep maze. The way I pass Ne'er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale, Apollo guides me, and another Nine
To my rapt sight the arctic beams reveal.
Ye other few, who have outstretch'd the neck. Timely for food of angels, on which here They live, yet never know satiety,
Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out Your vessel, marking, well the furrow broad Before you in the wave, that on both sides Equal returns. Those, glorious, who pass'd o'er To Colchos, wonder'd not as ye will do,
When they saw Jason following the plough.
The increate perpetual thirst, that draws Toward the realm of God's own form, bore us Swift almost as the heaven ye behold.
Beatrice upward gaz'd, and I on her,
And in such space as on the notch a dart
Is plac'd, then loosen'd flies, I saw myself
Arriv'd, where wond'rous thing engag'd my sight. Whence she, to whom no work of mine was hid, Turning to me, with aspect glad as fair,
Bespake me: "Gratefully direct thy mind
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To God, through whom to this first star we come."
Me seem'd as if a cloud had cover'd us, Translucent, solid, firm, and polish'd bright, Like adamant, which the sun's beam had smit Within itself the ever-during pearl
Receiv'd us, as the wave a ray of light Receives, and rests unbroken. If I then Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend
Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus
Another could endure, which needs must be
If body enter body, how much more
Must the desire inflame us to behold
That essence, which discovers by what means
God and our nature join'd! There will be seen
That which we hold through faith, not shown by proof, But in itself intelligibly plain,
E'en as the truth that man at first believes.
I answered: "Lady! I with thoughts devout, Such as I best can frame, give thanks to Him, Who hath remov'd me from the mortal world. But tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots Upon this body, which below on earth
Give rise to talk
