And, in believing, kindled to such fire

Of genuine love, that at the second death
Worthy it was to come unto this joy.

The other one, through grace, that from so deep
A fountain wells that never hath the eye

Of any creature reached its primal wave,
Set all his love below on righteousness;

Wherefore from grace to grace did God unclose

His eye to our redemption yet to be,

Whence he believed therein, and suffered not
From that day forth the stench of paganism,

And he reproved therefor the folk perverse.
Those Maidens three, whom at the right-hand wheel
Thou didst behold, were unto him for baptism
More than a thousand years before baptizing.

O thou predestination, how remote

Thy root is from the aspect of all those
Who the First Cause do not behold entire !

And
you,
O mortals! hold yourselves restrained
In judging; for ourselves, who look on God,

We do not know as yet all the elect;

And sweet to us is such a deprivation,

Because our good in this good is made perfect,
That whatsoe'er God wills, we also will."

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After this manner by that shape divine,

To make clear in me my short-sightedness,

Was given to me a pleasant medicine;

And as good singer a good lutanist

Accompanies with vibrations of the chords,
Whereby more pleasantness the song acquires,

So, while it spake, do I remember me

That I beheld both of those blessed lights, Even as the winking of the eyes concords, Moving unto the words their little flames.

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CANTO XXI.

ALREADY on my Lady's face mine eyes
Again were fastened, and with these my mind,
And from all other purpose was withdrawn;
And she smiled not; but "If I were to smile,"
She unto me began, "thou wouldst become
Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes.

Because my beauty, that along the stairs

Of the eternal palace more enkindles,
As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend,
If it were tempered not, is so resplendent

That all thy mortal power in its effulgence
Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes.
We are uplifted to the seventh splendor,

That underneath the burning Lion's breast
Now radiates downward mingled with his

Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind,

And make of them a mirror for the figure
That in this mirror shall appear to thee."

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power. 15

He who could know what was the pasturage

My sight had in that blessed countenance,

When I transferred me to another care,
Would recognize how grateful was to me

Obedience unto my celestial escort,
By counterpoising one side with the other.
Within the crystal which, around the world

Revolving, bears the name of its dear leader,
Under whom every wickedness lay dead,
Colored like gold, on which the sunshine gleams,
A stairway I beheld to such a height
Uplifted, that mine eye pursued it not.
Likewise beheld I down the steps descending

So many splendors, that I thought each light
That in the heaven appears was there diffused.
And as accordant with their natural custom

The rooks together at the break of day
Bestir themselves to warm their feathers cold;

Then some of them fly off without return,

Others come back to where they started from,
And others, wheeling round, still keep at home;

Such fashion it appeared to me was there

Within the sparkling that together came,

As soon as on a certain step it struck,

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And that which nearest unto us remained

Became so clear, that in my thought I said,
"Well I perceive the love thou showest me;
But she, from whom I wait the how and when
Of speech and silence, standeth still; whence I
Against desire do well if I ask not."

She thereupon, who saw my silentness

In the sight of Him who seeth everything, Said unto me, "Let loose thy warm desire." And I began: "No merit of my own

Renders me worthy of response from thee;

But for her sake who granteth me the asking,

Thou blessed life that dost remain concealed

In thy beatitude, make known to me

The cause which draweth thee so near my side;

And tell me why is silent in this wheel

The dulcet symphony of Paradise,

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That through the rest below sounds so devoutly." 60 Thou hast thy hearing mortal as thy sight,"

It answer made to me; "they sing not here,

For the same cause that Beatrice has not smiled.

Thus far adown the holy stairway's steps

Have I descended but to give thee welcome

With words, and with the light that mantles me;

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