30: Beatrice

1 Just as at night the seven stars we call

The Plough and Charlie’s Wain and The Great Bear

guide all good steersmen on the salt sea plain,

4 so three great Christian virtues: Faith, Hope, Love,

with Courage, Wisdom, Justice, Temperance

(four virtues Pagans recognise) create

7 to eyes not blinded by the fog of sin,

the candelabrum holding seven flames

which light for us the way to God above.

10 The Heavenly Grace I know as Beatrice

is carried by His chariot, the Kirk

whose baring pole is the true cross of Christ.

13 After it halted, all the twenty-four

pure white-robed, leaf-crowned patriarchs between

candles and griffin turned toward the car

16 with smiling faces, blissfully serene,

and one inspired by Heaven, sang three times,

O come to me from Lebanon, my bride.

19 The others joined their melody to his

like blessèd souls on Resurrection Day,

raised by the clang of the last trump to sing

hosannas with rejuvenated tongue. 22

At the great sound I saw above the car

a hundred angel ministers appear

who sang, Blessèd is she who comes, and then, 25

O give her lilies with full hands. They flung

up and around flowers of every kind.

I once saw in the dawning of a day 28

a rosy eastern sky, clear blue above,

while low white mist so gently veiled the sun,

my eyes could linger on its perfect sphere. 31

Thus in the cloud of blooms from angel hands

that whirled and fell inside the car and out,

a lady came, with olive garland crowned 34

and white veil, misting a green dress through which

her loveliness shone like a living flame.

I had not felt the awe now filling me 37

for many years. I had first felt it when

a child of nine, I met another child

I loved unselfishly, and so knew then 40

what press of adult care made me forget –

that love can be and ought to be divine.

The goddess now reminded me of this. 43

I turned to Virgil in my sore distress

as a child turns to mother in a fright

meaning to say, “I tremble with despair – 46

how can I make my treachery come right?”

He was not there. Virgil, my dearest friend,

49 the good guide who had led me safe through Hell,

and washed my cheeks with dew to make me fit

to climb so close to my salvation

52 had vanished. Gone. I wept, then heard a voice.

“Don’t weep now, Dante. You must shed more tears

for worse than loss of Virgil’s company.”

55 Hearing my name I turned and saw her stand

within the car, speaking across the stream

as admirals commanding fleets address

58 a sailor, from a flagship’s highest deck.

The veil descending from her head, held there

by olive-wreath-sprays from Minerva’s tree

61 did not allow a clear view of her face,

and yet the regal way she spoke conveyed

her harshness was restrained by tenderness.

64 “Look well at me. I am your Beatrice.

How dare you weep up here? Did you not know

this paradise is made for happiness?”

67 Ashamed, I stared down into the pure stream;

saw my glum face reflected; turned away.

Stern pity has for me a bitter taste.

70 She spoke no further as the angels sang

the psalm that starts, My hope is in the Lord,

ending with, You give freedom to my feet.

73 They seemed to say, Lady, why blame him so?

Such Heavenly compassion warmed and thawed

ice that had bound my heart. This flowed away

like candlewax in flame, or frozen snow 76

packed hard by northern blasts between the firs

upon the Apennines (Italy’s spine)

melting in breezes out of Africa. 79

I who had never so profoundly grieved,

poured from my eyes and mouth, water and sighs.

They proved my agony was honesty. 82

Still upright in her car my lady said,

“You spirits living in eternal day

know well why he’s to blame. I only asked 85

to let him hear me make his falseness plain.

Repentance needs his grief to equal guilt,

sorrow to balance his dead weight of sin. 88

The starry wheels that turn the universe

let folk bring gifts from God to splendid ends,

but only through their will. He had great gifts. 91

With care they would have yielded splendid fruit,

yet in good soil foul weeds may also sprout.

Our childhood love preserved his innocence. 94

His adolescence brought new friends, but sight

of my young eyes at times still kept him right.

When twenty-five I died and was reborn 97

in purity, while his acquaintances

misled his will, because he now pursued

visions of good that could not be made real. 100

In dreams and memories I called him back.

He did not heed, sank low till Heaven feared

103 for his salvation. Only showing him

the wholly lost in Hell could save his soul;

and so I went to Limbo, found the man

106 who led him here where I will be his guide,

for I must lead him to a greater height

that poetry may show to folk on Earth

109 the architecture of eternity.

But Heaven would undo its high decrees

were he not first washed clean in Lethe’s stream.

112 The saltest tears must pay his entrance fees.”