Part 37

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,

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, That through the rest below sounds so devoutly.”

“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;

Nor did more love cause me to be more ready, For love as much and more up there is burning, As doth the flaming manifest to thee.

But the high charity, that makes us servants Prompt to the counsel which controls the world, Allotteth here, even as thou dost observe.”

“I see full well,” said I, “O sacred lamp! How love unfettered in this court sufficeth To follow the eternal Providence;

But this is what seems hard for me to see, Wherefore predestinate wast thou alone Unto this office from among thy consorts.”

No sooner had I come to the last word, Than of its middle made the light a centre, Whirling itself about like a swift millstone.

When answer made the love that was therein: “On me directed is a light divine, Piercing through this in which I am embosomed,

Of which the virtue with my sight conjoined Lifts me above myself so far, I see The supreme essence from which this is drawn.

Hence comes the joyfulness with which I flame, For to my sight, as far as it is clear, The clearness of the flame I equal make.

But that soul in the heaven which is most pure, That seraph which his eye on God most fixes, Could this demand of thine not satisfy;

Because so deeply sinks in the abyss Of the eternal statute what thou askest, From all created sight it is cut off.

And to the mortal world, when thou returnest, This carry back, that it may not presume Longer tow’rd such a goal to move its feet.

The mind, that shineth here, on earth doth smoke; From this observe how can it do below That which it cannot though the heaven assume it?”

Such limit did its words prescribe to me, The question I relinquished, and restricted Myself to ask it humbly who it was.

“Between two shores of Italy rise cliffs, And not far distant from thy native place, So high, the thunders far below them sound,

And form a ridge that Catria is called, ’Neath which is consecrate a hermitage Wont to be dedicate to worship only.”

Thus unto me the third speech recommenced, And then, continuing, it said: “Therein Unto God’s service I became so steadfast,

That feeding only on the juice of olives Lightly I passed away the heats and frosts, Contented in my thoughts contemplative.