HKB
Paradiso: Canto XXXI
In fashion then as of a snow-white rose Displayed itself to me the saintly host, Whom Christ in his own blood had made his bride,
But the other host, that flying sees and sings The glory of Him who doth enamour it, And the goodness that created it so noble,
Even as a swarm of bees, that sinks in flowers One moment, and the next returns again To where its labour is to sweetness turned,
Sank into the great flower, that is adorned With leaves so many, and thence reascended To where its love abideth evermore.
Their faces had they all of living flame, And wings of gold, and all the rest so white No snow unto that limit doth attain.
From bench to bench, into the flower descending, They carried something of the peace and ardour Which by the fanning of their flanks they won.
Nor did the interposing ’twixt the flower And what was o’er it of such plenitude Of flying shapes impede the sight and splendour;
Because the light divine so penetrates The universe, according to its merit, That naught can be an obstacle against it.
This realm secure and full of gladsomeness, Crowded with ancient people and with modern, Unto one mark had all its look and love.
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 An Old Man habited like the glorious people.
O’erflowing was he in his eyes and cheeks With joy benign, in attitude of pity As to a tender father is becoming.
And “She, where is she?” instantly I said; Whence he: “To put an end to thy desire, Me Beatrice hath sent from mine own place.
And if thou lookest up to the third round Of the first rank, again shalt thou behold her Upon the throne her merits have assigned her.”
Without reply I lifted up mine eyes, And saw her, as she made herself a crown Reflecting from herself the eternal rays.
Not from that region which the highest thunders Is any mortal eye so far removed, In whatsoever sea it deepest sinks,
As there from Beatrice my sight; but this Was nothing unto me; because her image Descended not to me by medium blurred.
“O Lady, thou in whom my hope is strong, And who for my salvation didst endure In Hell to leave the imprint of thy feet,
Of whatsoever things I have beheld, As coming from thy power and from thy goodness I recognise the virtue and the grace.
Thou from a slave hast brought me unto freedom, By all those ways, by all the expedients, Whereby thou hadst the power of doing it.