The Rose of Paradise. — St. Bernard. — Prayer to Beatrice. — The glory of the Blessed Virgin.
In form then of a pure white rose the holy host was shown to me, which, in His own blood, Christ made His bride. But the other,1 which, flying, sees and sings the glory of Him who enamours it, and the goodness which made it so great, like a swarm of bees which one while are among the flowers and anon return to the place where their work gets its savor, were descending into the great flower which is adorned with so many leaves, and thence rising up again to where their love always abides. Their faces all were of living flame, and their wings of gold, and the rest so white that no snow reaches that extreme. When they descended into the flower, from bench to bench, they imparted somewhat of the peace and of the ardor which they acquired as they fanned their sides. Nor did the interposing of such a flying plenitude between what was above and the flower impede the sight and the splendor; for the divine light penetrates through the universe, according as it is worthy, so that naught can be an obstacle to it. This secure and joyous realm, thronged with aneient and with modern folk, had all its look and love upon one mark.
1 The angelic host.
O Trinal Light, which in a single star, scintillating on their sight, so satisfies them, look down here upon our tempest!
If the Barbarians, coming from a region such that every day it is covered by Helice,1 revolving with her son of whom she is fond, when they beheld Rome and her arduous work, were wonderstruck, what time Lateran rose above mortal things,2 I, who to the divine from the human, to the eternal from the temporal, had come, and from Florence to a people just and sane, with what amazement must I have been full! Surely what with it and the joy I was well pleased not to hear, and to stand mute. And as a pilgrim who is refreshed in the temple of his vow in looking round, and hopes now to report how it was, so, journeying through the living light, I carried my eyes over the ranks, now up, now down, and now circling about. I saw faces persuasive to love, beautified by the light of Another and by their own smile, and actions ornate with every dignity.
1 The nymph Callisto or Helice bore to Zeus a son, Arcas; she was metamorphosed by Hera into a bear, and then transferred to Heaven by Jupiter as the constellation of the Great Bear, while her son was changed into the constellation of Aretophylax or Bootes. In the far north these constellations remain always above the horizon.
2 When Rome was mistress of the world, and the Lateran the seat of imperial or papal power.
My look had now comprehended the general form of Paradise as a whole, and on no part yet my sight was fixed; and I turned me with re-enkindled wish to ask my Lady about things concerning which my mind was in suspense. One thing I was meaning, and another answered me; I was thinking to see Beatrice, and I saw an old man, robed like the people in glory. His eyes and his cheeks were overspread with benignant joy, in pious mien such as befits a tender father. And, “Where is she?” on a sudden said I. Whereon he, “To terminate thy desire, Beatrice urged me from my place, and if thou lookest up to the third circle from the highest step, thou wilt again see her upon the throne which her merits have allotted to her.” Without answering I lifted up my eyes, and saw her as she made for herself a crown, reflecting from herself the eternal rays. From that region which thunders highest up no mortal eye is so far distant, in whatsoever sea it loses itself the lowest,1 as there from Beatrice was my sight. But this was naught to me, for her image did not descend to me blurred by aught between.
1 From the highest region of the air to the lowest depth of the sea.
“O Lady, in whom my hope is strong, and who, for my salvation, didst endure to leave thy footprints in Hell, of all those things which I have seen, I recognize by thy power and by thy goodness the grace and the virtue. Thou hast drawn me from servitude to liberty by all those ways, by all the modes whereby thou hadst the power to do this. Guard thou in me thine own magnificence so that my soul, which thou hast made whole, may, pleasing to thee, be unloosed from the body.” Thus I prayed; and she, so distant, smiled, as it seemed, and looked at me; then turned to the eternal fountain.
And the holy old man, “In order that thou mayest complete perfectly,” he said, “thy journey, whereto prayer and holy love sent me, fly with thy eyes through this garden; for seeing it will prepare thy look to mount further through the divine radiance. And the Queen of Heaven, for whom I burn wholly with love, will grant us every grace, because I am her faithful Bernard.”1
1 St. Bernard, to whom, because of his fervent devotion to her, the Blessed Virgin had deigned to show herself during his life.
As is he who comes perchance from Croatia to see our Veronica,1 who is not satisfied by its ancient fame, but says in thought, while it is shown, “My Lord Jesus Christ, true God, now was your semblance like to this?” such was I, gazing on the living charity of him who, in this world, in contemplation, tasted of that peace.
1 The likeness of the Saviour miraculously impressed upon the kerchief presented to him by a holy woman, on his way to Calvary, wherewith to wipe the sweat and dust from his face, and now religiously preserved at Rome, and shown at St. Peter’s, on certain holydays.
“Son of Grace, this glad existence,” began he, “will not be known to thee holding thine eyes only below here at the bottom, but look on the circles even to the most remote, until thou seest upon her seat the Queen to whom this realm is subject and devoted.” I lifted up my eyes; and as at morning the eastern parts of the horizon surpass that where the sun declines, thus, as if going with my eyes from valley to mountain, I saw a part on the extreme verge vanquishing in light all the other front. And even as there where the pole which Phaeton guided ill is awaited,1 the flame is brighter, and on this side and that the light grows less, so that pacific oriflamme was vivid at the middle, and on each side in equal measure the flame slackened. And at that mid part I saw more than a thousand jubilant Angels with wings outspread, each distinct both in brightness and in act. I saw there, smiling at their sports and at their songs, a Beauty2 which was joy in the eyes of all the other saints. And if I had such wealth in speech as in imagining, I should. not dare to attempt the least of its delightfulness. Bernard, when he saw my eyes fixed and intent upon its warm glow, turned his own with such affection to it, that he made mine more ardent to gaze anew.
1 Where the chariot of the sun is about to rise.
2 The Virgin.