The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Paradise: Canto XXXIII

"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son,     Created beings all in lowliness     Surpassing, as in height, above them all,     Term by th' eternal counsel pre-ordain'd,     Ennobler of thy nature, so advanc'd     In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn,     Himself, in his own work enclos'd to dwell!     For in thy womb rekindling shone the love     Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now     This flower to germin in eternal peace!     Here thou to us, of charity and love,     Art, as the noon-day torch: and art, beneath,     To mortal men, of hope a living spring.     So mighty art thou, lady! and so great,     That he who grace desireth, and comes not     To thee for aidance, fain would have desire     Fly without wings. Nor only him who asks,     Thy bounty succours, but doth freely oft     Forerun the asking. Whatsoe'er may be     Of excellence in creature, pity mild,     Relenting mercy, large munificence,     Are all combin'd in thee. Here kneeleth one,     Who of all spirits hath review'd the state,     From the world's lowest gap unto this height.     Suppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace     For virtue, yet more high to lift his ken     Toward the bliss supreme. And I, who ne'er     Coveted sight, more fondly, for myself,     Than now for him, my prayers to thee prefer,     (And pray they be not scant) that thou wouldst drive     Each cloud of his mortality away;     That on the sovran pleasure he may gaze.     This also I entreat of thee, O queen!     Who canst do what thou wilt! that in him thou     Wouldst after all he hath beheld, preserve     Affection sound, and human passions quell.     Lo! Where, with Beatrice, many a saint     Stretch their clasp'd hands, in furtherance of my suit!"     The eyes, that heav'n with love and awe regards,     Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign     She looks on pious pray'rs: then fasten'd they     On th' everlasting light, wherein no eye     Of creature, as may well be thought, so far     Can travel inward. I, meanwhile, who drew     Near to the limit, where all wishes end,     The ardour of my wish (for so behooved),     Ended within me. Beck'ning smil'd the sage,     That I should look aloft: but, ere he bade,     Already of myself aloft I look'd;     For visual strength, refining more and more,     Bare me into the ray authentical     Of sovran light. Thenceforward, what I saw,     Was not for words to speak, nor memory's self     To stand against such outrage on her skill.     As one, who from a dream awaken'd, straight,     All he hath seen forgets; yet still retains     Impression of the feeling in his dream;     E'en such am I: for all the vision dies,     As 't were, away; and yet the sense of sweet,     That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart.     Thus in the sun-thaw is the snow unseal'd;     Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost     The Sybil's sentence. O eternal beam!     (Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?)     Yield me again some little particle     Of what thou then appearedst, give my tongue     Power, but to leave one sparkle of thy glory,     Unto the race to come, that shall not lose     Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught     Of memory in me, and endure to hear     The record sound in this unequal strain.     Such keenness from the living ray I met,     That, if mine eyes had turn'd away, methinks,     I had been lost; but, so embolden'd, on     I pass'd, as I remember, till my view     Hover'd the brink of dread infinitude.     O grace! unenvying of thy boon! that gav'st     Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken     On th' everlasting splendour, that I look'd,     While sight was unconsum'd, and, in that depth,     Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whatever     The universe unfolds; all properties     Of substance and of accident, beheld,     Compounded, yet one individual light     The whole. And of such bond methinks I saw     The universal form: for that whenever     I do but speak of it, my soul dilates     Beyond her proper self; and, till I speak,     One moment seems a longer lethargy,     Than five-and-twenty ages had appear'd     To that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder     At Argo's shadow darkening on his flood.     With fixed heed, suspense and motionless,     Wond'ring I gaz'd; and admiration still     Was kindled, as I gaz'd. It may not be,     That one, who looks upon that light, can turn     To other object, willingly, his view.     For all the good, that will may covet, there     Is summ'd; and all, elsewhere defective found,     Complete. My tongue shall utter now, no more     E'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's     That yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast.     Not that the semblance of the living light     Was chang'd (that ever as at first remain'd)     But that my vision quickening, in that sole     Appearance, still new miracles descry'd,     And toil'd me with the change. In that abyss     Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd methought,     Three orbs of triple hue clipt in one bound:     And, from another, one reflected seem'd,     As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third     Seem'd fire, breath'd equally from both. Oh speech     How feeble and how faint art thou, to give     Conception birth! Yet this to what I saw     Is less than little. Oh eternal light!     Sole in thyself that dwellst; and of thyself     Sole understood, past, present, or to come!     Thou smiledst; on that circling, which in thee     Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mus'd;     For I therein, methought, in its own hue     Beheld our image painted: steadfastly     I therefore por'd upon the view. As one     Who vers'd in geometric lore, would fain     Measure the circle; and, though pondering long     And deeply, that beginning, which he needs,     Finds not; e'en such was I, intent to scan     The novel wonder, and trace out the form,     How to the circle fitted, and therein     How plac'd: but the flight was not for my wing;     Had not a flash darted athwart my mind,     And in the spleen unfolded what it sought.     Here vigour fail'd the tow'ring fantasy:     But yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel     In even motion, by the Love impell'd,     That moves the sun in heav'n and all the stars.