Paradise Canto 31
Canto XXXI
Argument
The Poet expatiates further on the glorious vision described in the last Canto. On looking round for Beatrice, he finds that she has left him, and that an old man is at his side. This proves to be St. Bernard, who shows him that Beatrice has returned to her throne, and then points out to him the blessedness of the Virgin Mother.
In fashion, as a snow white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile, That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate His glory, whom they love, Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy, Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold:
[1: Human souls, advanced to this state of glory through the mediation of Christ.]
[2: \"That other host." The Angels.]
The rest was whiter than the driven snow;
And, as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.
All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, Ages long past or new, on one sole mark Their love and vision fix'd. O trinal beam Of individual star, that charm'st them thus!
Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below.
[3: To guide us through the dangers of this tempestuous life.]
If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roam'd, (Where Helice for ever, as she wheels, Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son),
Stood in mute wonder' mid the works of Rome, When to their view the Lateran arose In greatness more than earthly; I, who then From human to divine had past, from time Unto eternity, and out of Florence To justice and to truth, how might I chuse But marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze, In sooth no will had I to utter aught, Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests Within the temple of his vow, looks round In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell Of all its goodly state; e'en so mine eyes Coursed up and down along the living light, Now low, and now aloft, and now around, Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, Where charity in soft persuasion sat;
Smiles from within, and radiance from above;
And, in each gesture, grace and honour high.
[4: "If the grim brood." The northern hordes who invaded Rome.]
[5: \"Helice." Callistro, and her son Arcas, changed into the constellation of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes.]
So roved my ken, and in its general form All Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd With purpose of my lady to inquire Once more of things, that held my thought suspense.
But answer found from other than I ween'd;
For, Beatrice, when I thought to see, I saw instead a senior, at my side, Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused, With gestures such as spake a father's love.
And, "Whither is she vanish'd?" straight I ask'd.
"By Beatrice summon'd," he replied,
"I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft To the third circle from the highest, there Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit Hath placed her." Answering not, mine eyes I raised, And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.
Not from the centre of the sea so far Unto the region of the highest thunder, As was my ken from hers; and yet the form Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure.
"O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest;
Who, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in Hell To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd;
for all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave Thou hast to freedom brought me: and no means, For my deliverance apt, hast left untried.
Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep: That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, Is loosen'd from this body, it may find Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr'd: And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down, And smiled; then toward the eternal fountain turn'd.
And thus the senior, holy and revered:
"That thou at length mayst happily conclude Thy voyage, (to which end I was despatch'd, By supplication moved and holy love),
Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large, This garden through: for so, by ray divine Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount;
And from Heaven's Queen, whom fervent I adore, All gracious aid befriend us; for that I Am her own faithful Bernard." Like a wight, Who haply from Croatia wends to see Our Veronica, and, the while 'tis shown, Hangs over it with never - sated gaze, And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith Unto himself in thought: "And didst Thou look E'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God?
And was this semblance Thine?" So gazed I then Adoring; for the charity of him, Who musing, in this world that peace enjoy'd, Stood livelily before me. "Child of grace!"
Thus he began: "Thou shalt not knowledge gain Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held Still in this depth below. But search around The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy Seated in state, the Queen that of this realm Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I raised; and bright, As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime Above the horizon, where the sun declines;
So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part Excell'd in lustre all the front opposed.
And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave, That waits the ascending team, which Phaeton Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;
So burn'd the peaceful oriflame, and slack'd On every side the living flame decay'd.
[6: "Bernard." St. Bernard, the venerable Abbot of Clairvaux, and the great promoter of the Second Crusade, who died A. D. 1153, in his sixty - third year. He has been termed the last of the fathers of the Church. That the part he acts in the present poem should be assigned to him, appears somewhat remarkable, when we consider that he severely censured the new festival established in honor of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, and "opposed the doctrine itself with the greatest vigor, as it supposed her being honored with a privilege which belonged to Christ alone."]
[7: A copy in miniature of the picture of Christ, which is supposed to have been miraculously imprinted upon a handkerchief preserved in the church of St. Peter at Rome.]
[8: \"Him." St. Bernard.]
[9: \"The queen." The Virgin Mary.]
And in that midst their sportive pennons waved Thousands of Angels; in resplendence each Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven, That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.
Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, As is the colouring in fancy's loom,
'Twere all too poor to utter the least part Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes Intent on her, that charm'd him; Bernard gazed With so exceeding fondness, as infused Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.
Argument
The Poet expatiates further on the glorious vision described in the last Canto. On looking round for Beatrice, he finds that she has left him, and that an old man is at his side. This proves to be St. Bernard, who shows him that Beatrice has returned to her throne, and then points out to him the blessedness of the Virgin Mother.
In fashion, as a snow white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile, That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate His glory, whom they love, Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy, Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold:
[1: Human souls, advanced to this state of glory through the mediation of Christ.]
[2: \"That other host." The Angels.]
The rest was whiter than the driven snow;
And, as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.
All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, Ages long past or new, on one sole mark Their love and vision fix'd. O trinal beam Of individual star, that charm'st them thus!
Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below.
[3: To guide us through the dangers of this tempestuous life.]
If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roam'd, (Where Helice for ever, as she wheels, Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son),
Stood in mute wonder' mid the works of Rome, When to their view the Lateran arose In greatness more than earthly; I, who then From human to divine had past, from time Unto eternity, and out of Florence To justice and to truth, how might I chuse But marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze, In sooth no will had I to utter aught, Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests Within the temple of his vow, looks round In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell Of all its goodly state; e'en so mine eyes Coursed up and down along the living light, Now low, and now aloft, and now around, Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, Where charity in soft persuasion sat;
Smiles from within, and radiance from above;
And, in each gesture, grace and honour high.
[4: "If the grim brood." The northern hordes who invaded Rome.]
[5: \"Helice." Callistro, and her son Arcas, changed into the constellation of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes.]
So roved my ken, and in its general form All Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd With purpose of my lady to inquire Once more of things, that held my thought suspense.
But answer found from other than I ween'd;
For, Beatrice, when I thought to see, I saw instead a senior, at my side, Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused, With gestures such as spake a father's love.
And, "Whither is she vanish'd?" straight I ask'd.
"By Beatrice summon'd," he replied,
"I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft To the third circle from the highest, there Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit Hath placed her." Answering not, mine eyes I raised, And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.
Not from the centre of the sea so far Unto the region of the highest thunder, As was my ken from hers; and yet the form Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure.
"O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest;
Who, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in Hell To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd;
for all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave Thou hast to freedom brought me: and no means, For my deliverance apt, hast left untried.
Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep: That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, Is loosen'd from this body, it may find Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr'd: And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down, And smiled; then toward the eternal fountain turn'd.
And thus the senior, holy and revered:
"That thou at length mayst happily conclude Thy voyage, (to which end I was despatch'd, By supplication moved and holy love),
Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large, This garden through: for so, by ray divine Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount;
And from Heaven's Queen, whom fervent I adore, All gracious aid befriend us; for that I Am her own faithful Bernard." Like a wight, Who haply from Croatia wends to see Our Veronica, and, the while 'tis shown, Hangs over it with never - sated gaze, And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith Unto himself in thought: "And didst Thou look E'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God?
And was this semblance Thine?" So gazed I then Adoring; for the charity of him, Who musing, in this world that peace enjoy'd, Stood livelily before me. "Child of grace!"
Thus he began: "Thou shalt not knowledge gain Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held Still in this depth below. But search around The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy Seated in state, the Queen that of this realm Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I raised; and bright, As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime Above the horizon, where the sun declines;
So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part Excell'd in lustre all the front opposed.
And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave, That waits the ascending team, which Phaeton Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;
So burn'd the peaceful oriflame, and slack'd On every side the living flame decay'd.
[6: "Bernard." St. Bernard, the venerable Abbot of Clairvaux, and the great promoter of the Second Crusade, who died A. D. 1153, in his sixty - third year. He has been termed the last of the fathers of the Church. That the part he acts in the present poem should be assigned to him, appears somewhat remarkable, when we consider that he severely censured the new festival established in honor of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, and "opposed the doctrine itself with the greatest vigor, as it supposed her being honored with a privilege which belonged to Christ alone."]
[7: A copy in miniature of the picture of Christ, which is supposed to have been miraculously imprinted upon a handkerchief preserved in the church of St. Peter at Rome.]
[8: \"Him." St. Bernard.]
[9: \"The queen." The Virgin Mary.]
And in that midst their sportive pennons waved Thousands of Angels; in resplendence each Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven, That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.
Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, As is the colouring in fancy's loom,
'Twere all too poor to utter the least part Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes Intent on her, that charm'd him; Bernard gazed With so exceeding fondness, as infused Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.
