Divine Comedy: Paradise | Page 5

pass.?And hence the beam, that from without proceeds,?Must be pour'd back, as colour comes, through glass?Reflected, which behind it lead conceals.?Now wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue?Than in the other part the ray is shown,?By being thence refracted farther back.?From this perplexity will free thee soon?Experience, if thereof thou trial make,?The fountain whence your arts derive their streame.?Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove?From thee alike, and more remote the third.?Betwixt the former pair, shall meet thine eyes;?Then turn'd toward them, cause behind thy back?A light to stand, that on the three shall shine,?And thus reflected come to thee from all.?Though that beheld most distant do not stretch?A space so ample, yet in brightness thou?Will own it equaling the rest. But now,?As under snow the ground, if the warm ray?Smites it, remains dismantled of the hue?And cold, that cover'd it before, so thee,?Dismantled in thy mind, I will inform?With light so lively, that the tremulous beam?Shall quiver where it falls. Within the heaven,?Where peace divine inhabits, circles round?A body, in whose virtue dies the being?Of all that it contains. The following heaven,?That hath so many lights, this being divides,?Through different essences, from it distinct,?And yet contain'd within it. The other orbs?Their separate distinctions variously?Dispose, for their own seed and produce apt.?Thus do these organs of the world proceed,?As thou beholdest now, from step to step,?Their influences from above deriving,?And thence transmitting downwards. Mark me well,?How through this passage to the truth I ford,?The truth thou lov'st, that thou henceforth alone,?May'st know to keep the shallows, safe, untold.
"The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs,?As mallet by the workman's hand, must needs?By blessed movers be inspir'd. This heaven,?Made beauteous by so many luminaries,?From the deep spirit, that moves its circling sphere,?Its image takes an impress as a seal:?And as the soul, that dwells within your dust,?Through members different, yet together form'd,?In different pow'rs resolves itself; e'en so?The intellectual efficacy unfolds?Its goodness multiplied throughout the stars;?On its own unity revolving still.?Different virtue compact different?Makes with the precious body it enlivens,?With which it knits, as life in you is knit.?From its original nature full of joy,?The virtue mingled through the body shines,?As joy through pupil of the living eye.?From hence proceeds, that which from light to light?Seems different, and not from dense or rare.?This is the formal cause, that generates?Proportion'd to its power, the dusk or clear."
CANTO III
That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm'd?Had of fair truth unveil'd the sweet aspect,?By proof of right, and of the false reproof;?And I, to own myself convinc'd and free?Of doubt, as much as needed, rais'd my head?Erect for speech. But soon a sight appear'd,?Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix'd,?That of confession I no longer thought.
As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave?Clear and unmov'd, and flowing not so deep?As that its bed is dark, the shape returns?So faint of our impictur'd lineaments,?That on white forehead set a pearl as strong?Comes to the eye: such saw I many a face,?All stretch'd to speak, from whence I straight conceiv'd?Delusion opposite to that, which rais'd?Between the man and fountain, amorous flame.
Sudden, as I perceiv'd them, deeming these?Reflected semblances to see of whom?They were, I turn'd mine eyes, and nothing saw;?Then turn'd them back, directed on the light?Of my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beams?From her celestial eyes. "Wonder not thou,"?She cry'd, "at this my smiling, when I see?Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth?It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont,?Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.?True substances are these, which thou behold'st,?Hither through failure of their vow exil'd.?But speak thou with them; listen, and believe,?That the true light, which fills them with desire,?Permits not from its beams their feet to stray."
Straight to the shadow which for converse seem'd?Most earnest, I addressed me, and began,?As one by over-eagerness perplex'd:?"O spirit, born for joy! who in the rays?Of life eternal, of that sweetness know'st?The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far?All apprehension, me it well would please,?If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this?Your station here." Whence she, with kindness prompt,?And eyes glist'ning with smiles: "Our charity,?To any wish by justice introduc'd,?Bars not the door, no more than she above,?Who would have all her court be like herself.?I was a virgin sister in the earth;?And if thy mind observe me well, this form,?With such addition grac'd of loveliness,?Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt know?Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac'd,?Here 'mid these other blessed also blest.?Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone?With pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv'd,?Admitted to his order dwell in joy.?And this condition, which appears so low,?Is for this cause assign'd us, that our vows?Were in some part neglected and made void."
Whence I to her replied: "Something divine?Beams in your countenance, wond'rous