| PARADISO CANTO 33 Mandelbaum Tr. and Longfellow Tr. | Notes | Ann. |
"Virgin mother, daughter of your Son, more humble and sublime than any creature, fixed goal decreed from all eternity, "THOU Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son Humble and high beyond all other creature, The limit fixed of the eternal counsel, |
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you are the one who gave to human nature so much nobility that its Creator did not disdain His being made its creature. Thou art the one who such nobility To human nature gave, that its Creator Did not disdain to make himself its creature. |
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That love whose warmth allowed this flower to bloom within the everlasting peace-was love rekindled in your womb; for us above, Within thy womb rekindled was the love, By heat of which in the eternal peace After such wise this flower has germinated. |
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you are the noonday torch of charity, and there below, on earth, among the mortals, you are a living spring of hope. Lady, Here unto us thou art a noonday torch Of charity, and below there among mortals Thou art the living fountain-head of hope. |
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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. Lady thou art so great, and so prevailing, That he who wishes grace, nor runs to thee His aspirations without wings would fly. |
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Your loving-kindness does not only answer the one who asks, but it is often ready to answer freely long before the asking. Not only thy benignity gives succour To him who asketh it, but oftentimes Forerunneth of its own accord the asking |
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In you compassion is, in you is pity, in you is generosity, in you is every goodness found in any creature. In thee compassion is, in thee is pity, In thee magnificence, in thee unites Whate'er of goodness is in any creature. |
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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 Now doth this man, who from the lowest depth Of the universe as far as here has seen One after one the spiritual lives, |
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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. Supplicate thee through grace for so much power That with his eyes he may uplift himself Higher towards the uttermost salvation. |
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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 And I, who never hurned for my own seeing More than I do for his, all of my prayers Proffer to thee, and pray they come not short, |
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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. That thou wouldst scatter from him every cloud Of his mortality so with thy prayers, That the Chief Pleasure be to him displayed. |
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This, too, o Queen, who can do what you would, I ask of you: that after such a vision, his sentiments preserve their perseverance. Still farther do I pray thee, Queen, who canst Whate'er thou wilt, that sound thou mayst preserve After so great a vision his affections. |
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May your protection curb his mortal passions. See Beatrice-how many saints with her! They join my prayers! They clasp their hands to you!" Let thy protection conquer human movements; See Beatrice and all the blessed ones My prayers to second clasp their handls to thee!" |
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The eyes that are revered and loved by God, now fixed upon the supplicant, showed us how welcome such devotions are to her; The eyes beloved and revered of God, Fastened upon the speaker, showed to us How grateful unto her are prayers devout; |
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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. Then unto the Eternal Light they turned, On which it is not credible could be By any creature bent an eye so clear. |
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And I, who now was nearing Him who is the end of all desires, as I ought, lifted my longing to its ardent limit. And I, who to the end of all desires Was now approaching, even as I ought The ardour of desire within me ended. |
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Bernard was signaling-he smiled-to me to turn my eyes on high; but I, already was doing what he wanted me to do, Bernand was beckoning unto me, and smiling, That I should upward look; but I already Was of my own accord such as he wished |
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because my sight, becoming pure, was able to penetrate the ray of Light more deeply- that Light, sublime, which in Itself is true. Because my sight, becoming purified, Was entering more and more into the ray Of the High Light which of itself is true. |
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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. From that time forward what I saw was greater Than our discourse, that to such vision yields, And yields the memory unto such excess. |
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As one who sees within a dream, and, later, the passion that had been imprinted stays, but nothing of the rest returns to mind, Even as he is who seeth in a dream, And after dreaming the imprinted passion Remains, and to his mind the rest returns not, |
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such am I, for my vision almost fades completely, yet it still distills within my heart the sweetness that was born of it. Even such am I, for almost utterly Ceases my vision, and distilleth yet Tithin my heart the sweetness born of it; |
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So is the snow, beneath the sun, unsealed; and so, on the light leaves, beneath the wind, the oracles the Sibyl wrote were lost. Even thus the snow is in the sun unsealed, Even thus upon the wind in the light leaves Were the soothsayings of the Sibyl lost. |
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O Highest Light, You, raised so far above the minds of mortals, to my memory give back something of Your epiphany, O Light Supreme, that dost so far uplift thee From the conceits of mortals, to my mimd Of what thou didst appear re-lend a little, |
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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 And make my tongue of so great puissance, That but a single sparkle of thy glory It may bequeath unto the future people; |
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returning somewhat to my memory and echoing awhile within these lines, Your victory will be more understood. For by returning to my memory somewhat, And by a little sounding in these verses, More of thy victory shall be conceived! |
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The living ray that I endured was so acute that I believe I should have gone astray had my eyes turned away from it. I think the keenness of the living ray Which I endured would have bewildered me, If but mine eyes had been averted from it; |
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I can recall that I, because of this, was bolder in sustaining it until my vision reached the Infinite Goodness. And I remember that I was more bold On this account to bear, so that I joined My aspect with the Glory Infinite. |
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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! O grace abundant, by which I presumed To fix my sight upon the Light Eternal, So that the seeing I consumed therein! |
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In its profundity I saw-ingathered and bound by love into one single volume- what, in the universe, seems separate, scattered: I saw that in its depth far down is lying Bound up with love together in one volume, What through the universe in leaves is scattered; |
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substances, accidents, and dispositions as if conjoined-in such a way that what I tell is only rudimentary. Substance, and accident, and their operations, All interfused together in such wise That what I speak of is one simple light. |
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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 The universal fashion of this knot Methinks I saw, since more abundantly In saying this I feel that I rejoice. |
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brings more forgetfulness to me than twenty- five centuries have brought to the endeavor that startled Neptune with the Argo's shadow! One moment is more lethargy to me, Than five and twenty centuries to the emprise That startled Neptune with the shade of Argo! |
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So was my mind-completely rapt, intent, steadfast, and motionless-gazing; and it grew ever more enkindled as it watched. My mind in this wise wholly in suspense, Steadfast, immovable, attentive gazed, And evermore with gazing grew enkindled. |
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Whoever sees that Light is soon made such that it would be impossible for him to set that Light aside for other sight; In presence of that light one such becomes, That to withdraw therefrom for other prospect It is impossible he e'er consent; |
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because the good, the object of the will, is fully gathered in that Light; outside that Light, what there is perfect is defective. Because the good, which object is of will, Is gathered all in this, and out of it That is defective which is perfect there. |
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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. Shorter henceforward will my language fall Of what I yet remember, than an infant's Who still his tongue doth moisten at the breast |
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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- Not because more than one unmingled semblance Was in the living light on which I looked, For it is always what it was before; |
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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 But through the sight, that fortified itself In me by looking, one appearance only To me was ever changing as I changed. |
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essence of that exalted Light, three circles appeared to me; they had three different colors, but all of them were of the same dimension; Within the deep and luminous subsistence Of the High Light appeared to me three circles, Of threefold colour and of one dimension |
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one circle seemed reflected by the second, as rainbow is by rainbow, and the third seemed fire breathed equally by those two circles. And by the second seemed the first reflected As Iris is by Iris, and the third Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed. |
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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. O how all speech is feeble and falls short Of my conceit, and this to what I saw Is such, 'tis not enough to call it little! |
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Eternal Light, You only dwell within Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing, Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself! O Light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest, Sole knowest thyself, and, known unto thyself And knowing, lovest and smilest on thyself! |
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That circle-which, begotten so, appeared in You as light reflected-when my eyes had watched it with attention for some time, That circulation, which being thus conceived Appeared in thee as a reflected light, When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes, |
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within itself and colored like itself, to me seemed painted with our effigy, so that my sight was set on it completely. Within itself, of its own very colour Seemed to me painted with our effigy, Wherefore my sight was all absorbed therein. |
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As the geometer intently seeks to square the circle, but he cannot reach, through thought on thought, the principle he needs, As the geometrician, who endeavours To square the circle, and discovers not. By taking thought, the principle he wants, |
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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- Even such was I at that new apparition; I wished to see how the image to the circle Conformed itself, and how it there finds place; |
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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. But my own wings were not enough for this, Had it not been that then my mind there smote A flash of lightning, wherein came its wish. |
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Here force failed my high fantasy; but my desire and will were moved already-like a wheel revolving uniformly-by Here vigour failed the lofty fantasy: But now was turning my desire and will, Even as a wheel that equally is moved, |
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the Love that moves the sun and the other stars. The Love which moves the sun and the other stars. |
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