Part 106

And my sweet Father, to encourage me, Discoursing still of Beatrice went on, Saying: “Her eyes I seem to see already!”

A voice, that on the other side was singing, Directed us, and we, attent alone On that, came forth where the ascent began.

“Venite, benedicti Patris mei,” Sounded within a splendour, which was there Such it o’ercame me, and I could not look.

“The sun departs,” it added, “and night cometh; Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps, So long as yet the west becomes not dark.”

Straight forward through the rock the path ascended In such a way that I cut off the rays Before me of the sun, that now was low.

And of few stairs we yet had made assay, Ere by the vanished shadow the sun’s setting Behind us we perceived, I and my Sages.

And ere in all its parts immeasurable The horizon of one aspect had become, And Night her boundless dispensation held,

Each of us of a stair had made his bed; Because the nature of the mount took from us The power of climbing, more than the delight.

Even as in ruminating passive grow The goats, who have been swift and venturesome Upon the mountain-tops ere they were fed,

Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot, Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staff Is leaning, and in leaning tendeth them;

And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors, Passes the night beside his quiet flock, Watching that no wild beast may scatter it,

Such at that hour were we, all three of us, I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they, Begirt on this side and on that by rocks.

Little could there be seen of things without; But through that little I beheld the stars More luminous and larger than their wont.

Thus ruminating, and beholding these, Sleep seized upon me,—sleep, that oftentimes Before a deed is done has tidings of it.

It was the hour, I think, when from the East First on the mountain Citherea beamed, Who with the fire of love seems always burning;

Youthful and beautiful in dreams methought I saw a lady walking in a meadow, Gathering flowers; and singing she was saying:

“Know whosoever may my name demand That I am Leah, and go moving round My beauteous hands to make myself a garland.

To please me at the mirror, here I deck me, But never does my sister Rachel leave Her looking-glass, and sitteth all day long.

To see her beauteous eyes as eager is she, As I am to adorn me with my hands; Her, seeing, and me, doing satisfies.”

And now before the antelucan splendours That unto pilgrims the more grateful rise, As, home-returning, less remote they lodge,

The darkness fled away on every side, And slumber with it; whereupon I rose, Seeing already the great Masters risen.

“That apple sweet, which through so many branches The care of mortals goeth in pursuit of, To-day shall put in peace thy hungerings.”

Speaking to me, Virgilius of such words As these made use; and never were there guerdons That could in pleasantness compare with these.

Such longing upon longing came upon me To be above, that at each step thereafter For flight I felt in me the pinions growing.

When underneath us was the stairway all Run o’er, and we were on the highest step, Virgilius fastened upon me his eyes,

And said: “The temporal fire and the eternal, Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art come Where of myself no farther I discern.

By intellect and art I here have brought thee; Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth; Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou.

Behold the sun, that shines upon thy forehead; Behold the grass, the flowerets, and the shrubs Which of itself alone this land produces.