Oppressed with stupor, I unto my guide     Turned like a little child who always runs     For refuge there where he confideth most;

And she, even as a mother who straightway     Gives comfort to her pale and breathless boy     With voice whose wont it is to reassure him,

Said to me: “Knowest thou not thou art in heaven,     And knowest thou not that heaven is holy all     And what is done here cometh from good zeal?

After what wise the singing would have changed thee     And I by smiling, thou canst now imagine,     Since that the cry has startled thee so much,

In which if thou hadst understood its prayers     Already would be known to thee the vengeance     Which thou shalt look upon before thou diest.

The sword above here smiteth not in haste     Nor tardily, howe’er it seem to him     Who fearing or desiring waits for it.

But turn thee round towards the others now,     For very illustrious spirits shalt thou see,     If thou thy sight directest as I say.”

As it seemed good to her mine eyes I turned,     And saw a hundred spherules that together     With mutual rays each other more embellished.

I stood as one who in himself represses     The point of his desire, and ventures not     To question, he so feareth the too much.

And now the largest and most luculent     Among those pearls came forward, that it might     Make my desire concerning it content.

Within it then I heard: “If thou couldst see     Even as myself the charity that burns     Among us, thy conceits would be expressed;

But, that by waiting thou mayst not come late     To the high end, I will make answer even     Unto the thought of which thou art so chary.

That mountain on whose slope Cassino stands     Was frequented of old upon its summit     By a deluded folk and ill-disposed;

And I am he who first up thither bore     The name of Him who brought upon the earth     The truth that so much sublimateth us.

And such abundant grace upon me shone     That all the neighbouring towns I drew away     From the impious worship that seduced the world.

These other fires, each one of them, were men     Contemplative, enkindled by that heat     Which maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.

Here is Macarius, here is Romualdus,     Here are my brethren, who within the cloisters     Their footsteps stayed and kept a steadfast heart.”

And I to him: “The affection which thou showest     Speaking with me, and the good countenance     Which I behold and note in all your ardours,

In me have so my confidence dilated     As the sun doth the rose, when it becomes     As far unfolded as it hath the power.

Therefore I pray, and thou assure me, father,     If I may so much grace receive, that I     May thee behold with countenance unveiled.”

He thereupon: “Brother, thy high desire     In the remotest sphere shall be fulfilled,     Where are fulfilled all others and my own.

There perfect is, and ripened, and complete,     Every desire; within that one alone     Is every part where it has always been;

For it is not in space, nor turns on poles,     And unto it our stairway reaches up,     Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away.

Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw it     Extending its supernal part, what time     So thronged with angels it appeared to him.

But to ascend it now no one uplifts     His feet from off the earth, and now my Rule     Below remaineth for mere waste of paper.

The walls that used of old to be an Abbey     Are changed to dens of robbers, and the cowls     Are sacks filled full of miserable flour.

But heavy usury is not taken up     So much against God’s pleasure as that fruit     Which maketh so insane the heart of monks;

For whatsoever hath the Church in keeping     Is for the folk that ask it in God’s name,     Not for one’s kindred or for something worse.

The flesh of mortals is so very soft,     That good beginnings down below suffice not     From springing of the oak to bearing acorns.

Peter began with neither gold nor silver,     And I with orison and abstinence,     And Francis with humility his convent.

And if thou lookest at each one’s beginning,     And then regardest whither he has run,     Thou shalt behold the white changed into brown.

In verity the Jordan backward turned,     And the sea’s fleeing, when God willed were more     A wonder to behold, than succour here.”

Thus unto me he said; and then withdrew     To his own band, and the band closed together;     Then like a whirlwind all was upward rapt.

The gentle Lady urged me on behind them     Up o’er that stairway by a single sign,     So did her virtue overcome my nature;

Nor here below, where one goes up and down     By natural law, was motion e’er so swift     That it could be compared unto my wing.

Reader, as I may unto that devout     Triumph return, on whose account I often     For my transgressions weep and beat my breast,—

Thou hadst not thrust thy finger in the fire     And drawn it out again, before I saw     The sign that follows Taurus, and was in it.

O glorious stars, O light impregnated     With mighty virtue, from which I acknowledge     All of my genius, whatsoe’er it be,

With you was born, and hid himself with you,     He who is father of all mortal life,     When first I tasted of the Tuscan air;

And then when grace was freely given to me     To enter the high wheel which turns you round,     Your region was allotted unto me.

To you devoutly at this hour my soul     Is sighing, that it virtue may acquire     For the stern pass that draws it to itself.

“Thou art so near unto the last salvation,”     Thus Beatrice began, “thou oughtest now     To have thine eves unclouded and acute;

And therefore, ere thou enter farther in,     Look down once more, and see how vast a world     Thou hast already put beneath thy feet;

So that thy heart, as jocund as it may,     Present itself to the triumphant throng     That comes rejoicing through this rounded ether.”

I with my sight returned through one and all     The sevenfold spheres, and I beheld this globe     Such that I smiled at its ignoble semblance;

And that opinion I approve as best     Which doth account it least; and he who thinks     Of something else may truly be called just.

I saw the daughter of Latona shining     Without that shadow, which to me was cause     That once I had believed her rare and dense.

The aspect of thy son, Hyperion,     Here I sustained, and saw how move themselves     Around and near him Maia and Dione.

Thence there appeared the temperateness of Jove     ’Twixt son and father, and to me was clear     The change that of their whereabout they make;

And all the seven made manifest to me     How great they are, and eke how swift they are,     And how they are in distant habitations.

The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,     To me revolving with the eternal Twins,     Was all apparent made from hill to harbour!

Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes I turned.