CANTO XXXIII

               Virgin mother, daughter of your Son,   

                       more humble and sublime than any creature,   

                       fixed goal decreed from all eternity,

4             you are the one who gave to human nature

                       so much nobility that its Creator

                       did not disdain His being made its creature.

7             That love whose warmth allowed this flower to bloom   

                       within the everlasting peace—was love

                       rekindled in your womb; for us above,

10           you are the noonday torch of charity,

                       and there below, on earth, among the mortals,

                       you are a living spring of hope. Lady,

13           you are so high, you can so intercede,

                       that he who would have grace but does not seek   

                       your aid, may long to fly but has no wings.

16           Your loving-kindness does not only answer   

                       the one who asks, but it is often ready

                       to answer freely long before the asking.

19           In you compassion is, in you is pity,

                       in you is generosity, in you

                       is every goodness found in any creature.

22           This man—who from the deepest hollow in

                       the universe, up to this height, has seen

                       the lives of spirits, one by one—now pleads

25           with you, through grace, to grant him so much virtue

                       that he may lift his vision higher still

                       may lift it toward the ultimate salvation.

28           And I, who never burned for my own vision

                       more than I burn for his, do offer you

                       all of my prayers—and pray that they may not

31           fall short—that, with your prayers, you may disperse

                       all of the clouds of his mortality

                       so that the Highest Joy be his to see.

34           This, too, o Queen, who can do what you would,   

                       I ask of you: that after such a vision,

                       his sentiments preserve their perseverance.

37           May your protection curb his mortal passions.

                       See Beatrice—how many saints with her!   

                       They join my prayers! They clasp their hands to you!”

40           The eyes that are revered and loved by God,

                       now fixed upon the supplicant, showed us

                       how welcome such devotions are to her;

43           then her eyes turned to the Eternal Light

                       there, do not think that any creature’s eye

                       can find its way as clearly as her sight.

46           And I, who now was nearing Him who is

                       the end of all desires, as I ought,

                       lifted my longing to its ardent limit.

49           Bernard was signaling—he smiled—to me

                       to turn my eyes on high; but I, already

                       was doing what he wanted me to do,

52           because my sight, becoming pure, was able

                       to penetrate the ray of Light more deeply

                       that Light, sublime, which in Itself is true.

55           From that point on, what I could see was greater

                       than speech can show: at such a sight, it fails

                       and memory fails when faced with such excess.

58           As one who sees within a dream, and, later,   

                       the passion that had been imprinted stays,

                       but nothing of the rest returns to mind,

61           such am I, for my vision almost fades

                       completely, yet it still distills within

                       my heart the sweetness that was born of it.

64           So is the snow, beneath the sun, unsealed;   

                       and so, on the light leaves, beneath the wind,

                       the oracles the Sibyl wrote were lost.

67           O Highest Light, You, raised so far above

                       the minds of mortals, to my memory

                       give back something of Your epiphany,

70           and make my tongue so powerful that I

                       may leave to people of the future one

                       gleam of the glory that is Yours, for by

73           returning somewhat to my memory

                       and echoing awhile within these lines,

                       Your victory will be more understood.   

76           The living ray that I endured was so   

                       acute that I believe I should have gone

                       astray had my eyes turned away from it.

79           I can recall that I, because of this,

                       was bolder in sustaining it until

                       my vision reached the Infinite Goodness.

82           O grace abounding, through which I presumed

                       to set my eyes on the Eternal Light

                       so long that I spent all my sight on it!

85           In its profundity I saw—ingathered   

                       and bound by love into one single volume

                       what, in the universe, seems separate, scattered:

88           substances, accidents, and dispositions   

                       as if conjoined—in such a way that what

                       I tell is only rudimentary.

91           I think I saw the universal shape

                       which that knot takes; for, speaking this, I feel

                       a joy that is more ample. That one moment

94           brings more forgetfulness to me than twenty-five

                       centuries have brought to the endeavor

                       that startled Neptune with the Argo’s shadow!   

97           So was my mind—completely rapt, intent,

                       steadfast, and motionless—gazing; and it

                       grew ever more enkindled as it watched.

100         Whoever sees that Light is soon made such

                       that it would be impossible for him

                       to set that Light aside for other sight;

103         because the good, the object of the will,

                       is fully gathered in that Light; outside

                       that Light, what there is perfect is defective.

106         What little I recall is to be told,

                       from this point on, in words more weak than those

                       of one whose infant tongue still bathes at the breast.

109         And not because more than one simple semblance   

                       was in the Living Light at which I gazed

                       for It is always what It was before

112         but through my sight, which as I gazed grew stronger,

                       that sole appearance, even as I altered,

                       seemed to be changing. In the deep and bright

115         essence of that exalted Light, three circles

                       appeared to me; they had three different colors,

                       but all of them were of the same dimension;

118         one circle seemed reflected by the second,   

                       as rainbow is by rainbow, and the third

                       seemed fire breathed equally by those two circles.

121         How incomplete is speech, how weak, when set

                       against my thought! And this, to what I saw

                       is such—to call it little is too much.

124         Eternal Light, You only dwell within

                       Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing,

                       Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself!

127         That circle—which, begotten so, appeared   

                       in You as light reflected—when my eyes

                       had watched it with attention for some time,

130         within itself and colored like itself,

                       to me seemed painted with our effigy,

                       so that my sight was set on it completely.

133         As the geometer intently seeks   

                       to square the circle, but he cannot reach,

                       through thought on thought, the principle he needs,

136         so I searched that strange sight: I wished to see

                       the way in which our human effigy

                       suited the circle and found place in it

139         and my own wings were far too weak for that.

                       But then my mind was struck by light that flashed

                       and, with this light, received what it had asked.

142         Here force failed my high fantasy; but my

                       desire and will were moved already—like

                       a wheel revolving uniformly—by

145         the Love that moves the sun and the other stars.