The Portable Dante (69 page)

nor will such light be difficult to bear, the organs of our bodies will be strengthened and ready for whatever gives us joy. ”

So quick and eager to cry out “Amen!” were both those choirs that it was very clear how much they yearned to have their bodies back—

not for themselves as much as for their mothers, their fathers, and for all those they held dear before they turned into eternal flame.

And suddenly! around us was a light growing as bright as all the light it circled, like an horizon brightening with the dawn.

Just as at twilight all across the heavens new things appear—the faint appearances of what we see or what we seem to see,

so I began to see, it seemed, new shapes of spirits forming there, making a ring around the other two circumferences.

Oh sparks of truth that are the Holy Spirit! How quick, how bright the brilliance of that light grew for my eyes, now overwhelmed by glory!

But Beatrice showed herself to me smiling so radiantly, it must be left among those sights the mind cannot retrace.

It gave me strength to raise my eyes again, and looking up I saw myself translated, alone with her, to more exalted bliss.

I was aware of having risen higher because I saw the star’s candescent smile glow redder than it ever had before.

Then in the language common to all men, with all my heart, I made an offering unto the Lord befitting His fresh grace.

Nor had the sacrifice within my breast ceased burning when I knew my prayer of thanks had been accepted, and propitiously,

for with such mighty sheen, such ruby glow, within twin rays, such splendor came to me, I cried: “O Helios, who adorns them so!”

Just as the Milky Way adorned with stars, some large, some small, gleams white between the Poles, baffling the wisest of astrologers,

so, constellated in the depths of Mars, these rays of light crossed in the holy sign which quadrants make when joining in a circle;

but here my memory defeats my art: I see that cross as it flames forth with Christ, yet cannot find the words that will describe it.

But who takes up his cross and follows Christ will pardon me for what I leave unsaid beholding Heaven’s whiteness glow with Christ.

From top to base, across from arm to arm bright lights were moving, sparkling brilliantly as they would meet and pass each other’s glow.

So, here on earth, along a shaft of light that sometimes streaks the shade that men devise by means of arts and crafts for their protection,

our eyes see particles of matter move straight or aslant, some swift, some floating slow— an ever-changing scene of shapes and patterns.

And as the viol and harp, their many strings

tuned into harmony, will ring out sweetly even for the one who does not catch the tune,

so from the spread of lights along the cross there gathered in the air a melody that held me in a trance, though I could not

tell what the hymn was—only that it sang of highest praise: I heard “Arise” and “Conquer” as one who hears but does not understand.

This music raised my soul to heights of love: until that moment nothing had existed that ever bound my soul in such sweet chains—

but this, perhaps, may seem too rash a statement, forgetting, as it were, those lovely eyes, the source of bliss in which my gaze finds rest,

but since those vivid crowning beauties grow in strength the higher they ascend, and since I had not turned to look at them as yet,

one must excuse me for what I accuse myself of to excuse myself, and see the truth: that sacred joy is not excluded,

since it grows in perfection as we rise.

The magnanimity in which true love always resolves itself (as does that other, self-seeking love into iniquity)

silenced the notes of that sweet-sounding harp and hushed the music of those holy strings tuned tight or loose by Heaven’s hand itself.

How could such beings be deaf to righteous prayers, those beings who to encourage my desire to beg of them fell silent, all of them?

And right it is that he forever mourn who out of love for what does not endure loses that other love eternally.

As now and then through calm and cloudless skies a sudden streak of fire cuts the dark, catching the eye that watches listlessly,

as if a star were changing places there (except that from the place where it flared up no star is missing, and the blaze dies down),

so, from the right arm of the cross a star belonging to that brilliant constellation sped to the center, then, down to the foot,

and as it coursed along the radial lines, this gem contained within its setting seemed like fire behind an alabaster screen.

With like affection did Anchises’ shade rush forth, if we may trust our greatest Muse, when in Elysium he beheld his son.

“O sanguis meus, o superinfusa gratïa Deï, sicut tibi, cui bis unquam celi ianüa reclusa?”

So spoke that brilliance, and I stared at him. Then I turned round to see my lady’s face; I stood amazed between the two of them,

for such a smile was glowing in her eyes, it seemed that with my own I touched the depths of my beatitude, my paradise.

And then this light of joy to eye and ear began to add to his first words such things I could not grasp, his speech was so profound.

It did not hide its thought deliberately; there was no other choice: its argument soared far beyond the target of man’s mind.

Then once the bow of his affection had released its love, allowing what he said to hit the mark of human intellect,

the first words that I comprehended were: “Blessed be Thou, Three Persons in One Being, Who showest such great favor to my seed!”

Then he went on: “A long-felt, welcome thirst born from perusal of that mighty book whose black and white will never altered be,

you have assuaged, my son, within this flame from which I speak to you, thanks be to her who gave you wings to make this lofty flight.

Since you believe your thought flows forth to me from Primal thought, as five and six from one, if understood, ray forth from unity,

therefore, you do not ask me who I am or why I show more joy in seeing you than any other in this joyful throng.

What you believe is right. We in this life, greatest or least alike, gaze in that Mirror where thoughts are thought before they are expressed.

Yet, that the Sacred Love in which I gaze eternally on God, and which creates sweet thirstiness in me, be best fulfilled,

let your own voice, confident, bold, and joyous, express your will, express your heart’s desire— my answer has already been decreed. ”

I turned to Beatrice who had heard my words before I spoke, and with her smile she gave strength to the wings of my desire.

Then I began: “Love and intelligence achieved their equipoise in each of you once you saw plain the First Equality,

because the sun that warmed and lighted you with heat and light is poised so perfectly that all comparisons fall short of it.

But utterance and feeling among mortals for reasons which are evident to you, have different feathers making up their wings.

I, too, as man feel this disparity deeply, so only with my heart can I give thanks for your paternal welcome here.

1 beg of you, rich topaz, living gem within the setting of this precious jewel, to satisfy my wish to know your name. ”

“Branch of my tree, the mere expectancy of whose arrival here gave me delight, I was your root”—this was his preface, then

he said: “He after whom your family was named, whose soul a hundred years and more still circles the first terrace of the Mount,

father of your grandfather, was my son. And meet it were that you offer your prayers to shorten the long sentence of his weight.

Florence, enclosed within her ancient walls from which she still hears terce and nones ring out, once lived in peace, a pure and temperate town:

no necklace or tiara did she wear, no lavish gowns or fancy belts that were more striking than the woman they adorned.

In those days fathers had no cause to fear a daughter’s birth: the marriageable age was not too low, the dowry not too high.

Houses too large to live in were not built, and Sardanapalus had not yet come to show to what use bedrooms can be put.

Not yet had your Uccellatoi surpassed Rome’s Montemalo, which in its ascent being surpassed, will be so in its fall.

Bellincion Berti I have seen walk by belted in leather and bone, and his good wife come from her mirror with unpainted face;

de’Nerli I have seen, del Vecchio too, content to wear plain leather, and their wives to handle flax and spindle all day long.

O happy wives! Each one of them was sure of her last resting place—none of them yet lay lonely in her bed because of France.

One watching tenderly above the cradle, soothing her infant in that idiom which all new parents love to use at first;

another, working at her spinning-wheel surrounded by her children, would tell tales about the Trojans, Rome, and Fiesole.

A Lapo Salterello, a Cianghella would have amazed them then as much as now a Cincinnatus or Cornelia would.