Canto XXX
The Tenth Heaven, or Empyrean—The River of Light—The Two Courts of Heaven—The White Rose of Paradise.
Perchance six thousand miles remote from us Is glowing the sixth hour, and now this world Inclines its shadow almost to a level, When the mid-heaven begins to make itself So deep to us, that here and there a star Ceases to shine so far down as this depth, And as advances bright exceedingly The handmaid of the sun, the heaven is closed Light after light to the most beautiful;
Not otherwise the Triumph, which forever Plays round about the point that vanquished me, Seeming enclosed by what itself encloses, Little by little from my vision faded; Whereat to turn mine eyes on Beatrice My seeing nothing and my love constrained me. If what has hitherto been said of her Were all concluded in a single praise, Scant would it be to serve the present turn.
Not only does the beauty I beheld Transcend ourselves, but truly I believe Its Maker only may enjoy it all. Vanquished do I confess me by this passage More than by problem of his theme was ever O’ercome the comic or the tragic poet; For as the sun the sight that trembles most, Even so the memory of that sweet smile My mind depriveth of its very self.
From the first day that I beheld her face In this life, to the moment of this look, The sequence of my song has ne’er been severed; But now perforce this sequence must desist From following her beauty with my verse, As every artist at his uttermost. Such as I leave her to a greater fame Than any of my trumpet, which is bringing Its arduous matter to a final close,
With voice and gesture of a perfect leader She recommenced: “We from the greatest body Have issued to the heaven that is pure light; Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true good replete with ecstasy, Ecstasy that transcendeth every sweetness. Here shalt thou see the one host and the other Of Paradise, and one in the same aspects Which at the final judgment thou shalt see.”
Even as a sudden lightning that disperses The visual spirits, so that it deprives The eye of impress from the strongest objects, Thus round about me flashed a living light, And left me swathed around with such a veil Of its effulgence, that I nothing saw. “Ever the Love which quieteth this heaven Welcomes into itself with such salute, To make the candle ready for its flame.”
No sooner had within me these brief words An entrance found, than I perceived myself To be uplifted over my own power, And I with vision new rekindled me, Such that no light whatever is so pure But that mine eyes were fortified against it. And light I saw in fashion of a river Fulvid with its effulgence, ’twixt two banks Depicted with an admirable Spring.
Out of this river issued living sparks, And on all sides sank down into the flowers, Like unto rubies that are set in gold; And then, as if inebriate with the odors, They plunged again into the wondrous torrent, And as one entered issued forth another. “The high desire, that now inflames and moves thee To have intelligence of what thou seest, Pleaseth me all the more, the more it swells.
But of this water it behoves thee drink Before so great a thirst in thee be slaked.” Thus said to me the sunshine of mine eyes; And added: “The river and the topazes Going in and out, and the laughing of the herbage, Are of their truth foreshadowing prefaces; Not that these things are difficult in themselves, But the deficiency is on thy side, For yet thou hast not vision so exalted.”
There is no babe that leaps so suddenly With face towards the milk, if he awake Much later than his usual custom is, As I did, that I might make better mirrors Still of mine eyes, down stooping to the wave Which flows that we therein be better made. And even as the penthouse of mine eyelids Drank of it, it forthwith appeared to me Out of its length to be transformed to round.
Then as a folk who have been under masks Seem other than before, if they divest The semblance not their own they disappeared in, Thus into greater pomp were changed for me The flowerets and the sparks, so that I saw Both of the Courts of Heaven made manifest. O splendor of God! by means of which I saw The lofty triumph of the realm veracious, Give me the power to say how it I saw!
There is a light above, which visible Makes the Creator unto every creature, Who only in beholding Him has peace, And it expands itself in circular form To such extent, that its circumference Would be too large a girdle for the sun. The semblance of it is all made of rays Reflected from the top of Primal Motion, Which takes therefrom vitality and power.
And as a hill in water at its base Mirrors itself, as if to see its beauty When affluent most in verdure and in flowers, So, ranged aloft all round about the light, Mirrored I saw in more ranks than a thousand All who above there have from us returned. And if the lowest row collect within it So great a light, how vast the amplitude Is of this Rose in its extremest leaves!
My vision in the vastness and the height Lost not itself, but comprehended all The quantity and quality of that gladness. There near and far nor add nor take away; For there where God immediately doth govern, The natural law in naught is relevant. Into the yellow of the Rose Eternal That spreads, and multiplies, and breathes an odor Of praise unto the ever-vernal Sun,
As one who silent is and fain would speak, Me Beatrice drew on, and said: “Behold Of the white stoles how vast the convent is! Behold how vast the circuit of our city! Behold our seats so filled to overflowing, That here henceforward are few people wanting! On that great throne whereon thine eyes are fixed For the crown’s sake already placed upon it, Before thou suppest at this wedding feast
Shall sit the soul (that is to be Augustus On earth) of noble Henry, who shall come To redress Italy ere she be ready. Blind covetousness, that casts its spell upon you, Has made you like unto the little child, Who dies of hunger and drives off the nurse. And in the sacred forum then shall be A Prefect such, that openly or covert On the same road he will not walk with him.
But long of God he will not be endured In holy office; he shall be thrust down Where Simon Magus is for his deserts, And make him of Alagna lower go!”