The Portable Dante (54 page)

As she said this, I quickly turned around to my two poets: I saw, still lingering, the smile her final words brought to their lips.

Then I turned back to face her loveliness.

Then, like a lady moved by love, she sang (her revelations now come to an end):
Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata!

And like those nymphs that used to stroll alone through shaded woodlands, one seeking the sun, another trying to avoid its light,

so she began to walk along the bank, moving upstream, and I kept pace with her, matching on my side her small, graceful steps.

Not a hundred steps between us had we gone, when the two river banks curved perfectly parallel—and I faced the east again;

when we had gone a little farther on, the lady stopped and, turning to me, said: “My brother, look and listen. ” Suddenly,

a burst of incandescence cut the air, with one quick flash it lit up all the woods— at first I thought it was a lightning flash.

But lightning goes as quickly as it comes; what I saw stayed, its radiance increased. “What can this be?” I thought, and as I did,

a gentle melody was drifting through the luminous atmosphere. Then righteous zeal made me curse the presumptuousness of Eve:

to think that, while all earth and Heaven obeyed His will, a single woman, newly made, would dare strip off the veil imposed by Him!

Had she remained submissive to His will, I could on these ineffable delights have feasted sooner and for much more time.

As I was moving in a blissful trance among these first fruits of eternal joy, yearning for still more happiness to come,

the air, beneath green boughs, became transformed before our eyes into a blazing light, and the sweet sound had now become a chant.

Most holy Virgins, if because of you hunger or cold or vigils I endured, allow me now to ask for my reward:

let Helicon pour forth its streams for me, and let Urania help me with her choir to put in verse things difficult to grasp.

A little farther on, I saw what seemed to be seven trees of gold—a false effect caused by the distance separating us;

but when I had come close enough to them that distance could no longer hide detail, and what had tricked my senses now was clear,

that power which feeds the process of our thought identified the shapes as candlesticks and heard the word
Hosanna
in the chant.

Above the splendid gold—a brilliant light, brighter than moonlight in a cloudless sky at midnight shining in her bright mid-month!

Full of bewilderment, I turned around to my good Virgil. His answer was a glance charged with no less amazement than I felt.

Then I turned back to gaze at those high things moving toward us as though they did not move— more slowly than a modest, newmade bride.

The lady cried: “Why are you so intent on looking only at those living lights? Have you no wish to see what comes behind?”

Then I saw people following the glow, as if they were attendants; all were clothed in garments supernaturally white.

The waters on my left received the light, and when I looked into this shining glass, my left side was reflected clearly there.

When I had reached the point along my bank where only water separated us, I stopped to watch the scene more carefully:

I saw the slender flames as they advanced, leaving the air behind them color-streaked— so many streaming pennants overhead!

And thus the sky became a painted flow of seven bands of light, all the same shades as Delia’s cincture or Apollo’s bow.

These bands extended farther back than eyes could see and, all together, I would say, they measured, side by side, a good ten strides.

And under that magnificence of Heaven came four-and-twenty elders, two by two, all of them wearing crowns of fleur-de-lis.

They sang as they moved on:
“Benedicta
thou of all of Adam’s daughters, blessed be thy beauty throughout all eternity!”

When once the group of God’s elect had passed (the flowers and the tender grass that grew along the other bank once more in view),

as groups of stars will replace other stars high in the heavens, following them there came four creatures wearing crowns of forest green.

Each had six wings with feathers that were all covered with eyes; were Argus still alive, his eyes would be exactly like all those.

Reader, I cannot spend more verses now describing them, for I have other needs constraining me—here I must spare my words;

but you can read Ezekiel’s account: he saw them once approaching from the north borne on the wind, moving in cloud and fire,

and as he pictured them, so were they here, except that, in the matter of their wings, Saint John agrees with me and not with him.

The four of them were corners for a space filled by a triumphal two-wheeled chariot drawn by a griffin, harnessed to its neck.

He kept both wings raised high, and each one flanked the mid-banner between the three and three: so perfectly that neither one was cut.

His wings rose higher than my sight could rise; the parts of him that were a bird were gold and all the rest was white, with deep red marks.

An Africanus or Augustus never had such a splendid chariot from their Rome; indeed, that of the Sun could not compare—

that of the Sun which strayed and was destroyed at the devout petition of the Earth, when Jove in his mysterious way was just.

There were three ladies circling in a dance near the right wheel, and one was red, so red she hardly would be visible in fire;

the second looked as if her flesh and bones were fashioned out of emerald; the third had all the whiteness of new-fallen snow;

at times the white one led the dance, at times, the red, and from the song the red one sang the others took the tempo of their dance.

Beside the left wheel, dancing festively, were four more ladies—dressed in purple robes and led by one with three eyes in her head.

Behind the dancing figures, three and four, there came two aged men, differently dressed, but similar in bearing, staid and grave.

One wore the garments of a follower of great Hippocrates, whom Nature made to heal those creatures that she loved the most;

the other seemed to be his counterpart: he bore a sword, so sharp, gleaming so bright, that I, though on the other bank, felt fear.

Then I saw coming four of humble mien, and, last of all, an old man, by himself, who moved in his own dream, his face inspired.

And these last seven, just like the group up front, were clad in white, except the wreaths that crowned their heads were not entwined with lily blooms,

but roses and other flowers that are red. Had I been farther off, I would have sworn a crown of flames encircled every head.

And when the chariot was opposite me, thunder was heard! The exalted creatures, then, as though forbidden to move on, stopped short,

as did the flaming ensigns at the front.

When the Septentrion of the First Heaven (which never sets nor rises nor has known any cloud other than the veil of sin),

which showed to everyone his duty there (just as our lower constellation guides the helmsman on his way to port on earth),

stopped short, that group of prophets of the truth who were between the griffin and those lights turned to the car as to their source of peace;

then, one of them, as sent from Heaven, sang
Veni, sponsa, de Libano,
three times, and all the other voices followed his.

As at the Final Summons all the blest will rise out of their graves, ready to raise new-bodied voices singing ‘Hallelujah!’

just so rose up above the heavenly cart a hundred spirits
ad vocem tanti senis,
eternal heralds, ministers of God,

all shouting:
Benedictus qui venis!
then, tossing a rain of flowers in the air,
Manibus, O, date lilia plenis!