The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• The Trinity of Love
• Preface
• Paradiso I
• Paradiso Ii
• Paradiso Iii
• Paradiso Iv
• Paradiso V
• Paradiso Vi
• Paradiso Vii
• Paradiso Viii
• Paradiso Ix
• Paradiso X
• Paradiso Xi
• Paradiso Xii
• Paradiso Xiii
• Paradiso Xiv
• Paradiso Xv
• Paradiso Xvi
• Paradiso Xvii
• Paradiso Xviii
• Paradiso Xix
• Paradiso Xx
• Paradiso Xxi
• Paradiso Xxii
• Paradiso Xxiii
• Paradiso Xxiv
• Paradiso Xxv
• Paradiso Xxvi
• Paradiso Xxvii
• Paradiso Xxviii
• Paradiso Xxix
• Paradiso Xxx
• Paradiso Xxxi
• Paradiso Xxxii
• Paradiso Xxxiii

PARADISO I

• The Glory of Him who moveth everything,
• penetrates all the Universe, and shines
• more brightly in one part, and elsewhere less.

• Within the Heaven which most receives His Light
• I was; and saw what he who thence descends
• neither knows how, nor hath the power, to tell;
• for as it draweth near to its Desire,
• our intellect so deeply sinks therein,
• that recollection cannot follow it.
• As much, however, of the holy Realm
• as in my memory I could treasure up,
• shall now become the subject of my song.

• O Good Apollo, for my final task
• make me as worthy a vessel of Thy Power,
• as Thou dost ask for Thy dear laurel’s gift.
• One of Parnassus’ peaks hath hitherto
• sufficed me; but with both of them I now
• must start upon the course which still remains.
• Enter my breast, and breathe Thou as of old
• Thou didst, when from the scabbard of his limbs
• Thou drewest Marsyas forth.

• O Power Divine,
• if Thou but lend Thyself to me so much,
• that I may show the blessèd Kingdom’s shadow
• which in my mind is stamped; to Thy dear tree
• Thou ’lt see me come, and crown me with the leaves
• my theme and Thou shall cause me to deserve.
• So seldom, Father, are there any picked,
• to grace a Caesar’s or a Poet’s triumph,
• (the fault of human wills, and to their shame),
• that His Peneian leaf should bring forth joy
• within the Joyous Delphic Deity,
• when for itself it causes one to thirst.

• A great flame follows from a little spark;
• perhaps with better voices after me
• shall men so pray, that Cyrrha will reply.

• For mortal men the lantern of the world
• rises through divers passes; but from that
• which with three crosses brings four rings together,
• it issues on a more propitious course,
• and in conjunction with a kinder star,
• and more in its own image moulds and seals
• the mundane wax. A pass almost like this
• had made it morning there and evening here;
• and all that hemisphere was white, and black
• the other side; when Beatrice I saw
• turned toward her left, and looking at the sun;
• no eagle ever gazed at it so keenly.

• And even as from the first a second ray
• is wont to come, and upward start again,
• as would a pilgrim longing to return;
• even so to her act, by mine eyes infused
• through my imagination, mine conformed;
• and on the sun I gazed beyond our wont.

• Much is permitted there, which is not here
• allowed our faculties, thanks to the site
• created as the human race’s home.

• Not long did I endure it, nor so briefly,
• as not to see it sparkle all around,
• as molten iron doth, when out of fire
• it issues boiling; day then all at once
• seemed joined to day, as if the One who can
• had with another sun adorned the sky.

• With eyes fixed wholly on the eternal wheels
• stood Beatrice; and I on her fixed mine,
• from there above removed. Looking at her,
• I such became within, as Glaucus did
• on tasting of the herb, which in the sea
• made him a fellow of the other Gods.

• Transhumanizing could not be expressed
• by words; let this case, therefore, him suffice,
• for whom Grace holds experience in reserve.

• If I, O Love that rulest Heaven, was only
• that part of me, which Thou didst last create,
• Thou know’st, that with Thy Light didst raise me up.

• When the rotation Thou, by being longed for,
• dost make eternal, drew me to itself
• by harmonies distributed and tuned
• by Thee, it seemed that so much of the sky
• was by the sun’s flame set on fire, that rain
• nor river ever made so broad a lake.

• The newness of the sound, and brilliant light
• kindled in me a wish to know their cause,
• never with so great keenness felt; whence she,
• who saw me ev’n as I behold myself,
• opened her mouth to calm my troubled mind,
• ere I did mine to question, and began:

• “With false imagining dost thou so dull
• thyself, that thou perceivest not what else
• thou wouldst perceive, if thou hadst thrown it off.
• Thou ’rt not on earth, as thou dost think thyself;
• but lightning fleeing from its proper place
• ne’er ran as thou, that art thereto returning.”

• If I was by her little smiled-out words
• of my first doubt relieved, within a new one
• was I the more ensnared; I therefore said:
• “Already sated, I had found repose
• from great amazement; but I wonder now
• how I can these light elements transcend.”

• Heaving, thereat, a pitying sigh, she turned
• her eyes upon me with the look a mother
• gives her delirious child; and then began:

• “All things, whate’er they be, an order have
• among themselves; and form this order is,
• which makes the Universe resemble God.
• Therein exalted creatures see the trace
• of that Eternal Worth, which is the end
• for which the mentioned order is created.
• Within the ordered state whereof I speak,
• all natures have their place with different lots,
• as nearer to their source they are, or less;
• wherefore toward different ports they wend their way
• through the vast sea of being, each endowed
• with instinct, granted it to bear it on.
• This instinct toward the moon impelleth fire;
• this is the motive force in mortal hearts;
• this binds together and unites the earth;
• nor doth this bow impel those creatures only
• which lack intelligence, but those that have
• intelligence and love. The Providence
• which ordereth all this, with Its own Light
• e’er calms the heaven, inside of which revolves
• the one that moveth with the greatest speed.
• And thither now, as to a place ordained,
• that bowstring’s power is bearing us along,
• which to a glad mark speeds whate’er it shoots.
• ’T is true that, as a form is frequently
• discordant with the intention of an art,
• because its matter in response is deaf;

• so likewise from this natural course at times
• a creature turns away; for power it hath,
• though thus impelled, to bend aside elsewhere,
• (as one may see fire falling from a cloud),
• if, by false pleasure drawn, that primal impulse
• turn it aside to earth. If well I judge,
• no further shouldst thou wonder at thy rising,
• than at a stream thou dost, which to its foot
• down from a lofty mountain’s top descends.
• As great a marvel would it be in thee,
• if, rid of hindrance, thou hadst sat thee down,
• as rest, on earth, would in a living flame.”

• Then toward the sky she turned her face again.