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 III

• That sun which erst had warmed my heart with love,
• by proving and refuting, had revealed
• to me the pleasing face of lovely truth;
• and I, in order to confess myself
• corrected and assured, lifted my head
• as high as utterance of assent required.

• But, that I might behold it, there appeared
• a sight, which to itself so closely held me,
• that my confession I remembered not.

• Even as from polished or transparent glasses,
• or waters clear and still, but not so deep,
• that wholly lost to vision is their bed,
• the features of our faces are returned
• so faintly, that upon a pallid brow
• a pearl comes no less faintly to our eyes;
• thus saw I many a face that longed to speak;
• I therefore ran into the fault opposed
• to that which kindled love ’tween man and fount.

• As soon as I became aware of them,
• supposing they were mirrored images,
• to find out whose they were, I turned mine eyes;

• and seeing nothing, back again I turned them
• straight on into the light of my sweet Guide,
• whose holy eyes were glowing as she smiled.

• “Be not surprised” she said, “that I should smile
• at what is childish in thy present thought,
• since on the truth it trusts not yet its foot,
• but, as its wont is, turneth thee in vain.
• Real substances are these whom thou perceivest,
• assigned here for a vow not wholly kept.
• Speak to them, then, and hear them, and believe;
• for from Itself the True Light which contents them,
• permits them not to turn their feet away.”

• And I addressed me to the shade which seemed
• most eager to converse, and I began,
• like one confounded by too great desire:

• “O well-created spirit, that in rays
• of life eternal dost that sweetness taste,
• which never is, untasted, understood,
• ’t will grateful be to me, if thou content me
• with thine own name, and thy companions’ lot.”

• Hence promptly and with laughing eyes she said:
• “Not otherwise doth our love lock its doors
• against a just desire, than that Love doth,
• who wills that all His court be like Himself.
• A virgin sister was I in the world;
• and if within itself thy mind look well,
• my being fairer will not hide me from thee,

• but thou wilt recognize that I ’m Piccarda,
• who, placed here with these other blessèd ones,
• am happy in the slowest moving sphere.
• Our wishes, which are only set on fire
• by that which is the Holy Spirit’s pleasure,
• rejoice in that our joy was willed by Him.
• And this allotment, which appears so low,
• is therefore giv’n to us, because our vows
• neglected were, and not completely kept.”

• Hence I to her: “In these your wondrous faces
• there shines I know not what that is divine,
• which from your old appearance changes you;
• hence in remembering you I was not quick;
• but what thou now dost tell me helps me so,
• that I more easily recall thy face.
• But, tell me, ye who here so happy are,
• are ye desirous of a higher place,
• that ye may see more friends, or make you more?”

• First with those other shades she smiled a little,
• and then replied to me so joyously,
• that she appeared to burn with love’s first fire:

• “Brother, love’s virtue sets our will at rest,
• and makes us wish for only what we have,
• and doth not make us thirsty for aught else.
• If higher we desired to be, our wishes
• would be discordant with the will of Him,
• who here discerneth us, which, thou wilt see,

• can in these circles not occur, if love
• be necessary to existence here,
• and if love’s nature thou consider well.
• Nay more, essential to this blessèd life
• it is, that we should be within the Will
• Divine, whereby our wills become one will;
• and so, even as we are, from grade to grade
• throughout this Realm, to all the Realm is pleasing,
• as to its King, who in His Will in-wills us;
• and His Will is our Peace; and that
• the Ocean is, whereunto moveth all
• that It creates, and all that Nature makes.”

• Clear was it then to me that every where
• in Heaven is Paradise, and yet the Grace
• of Good Supreme rains there in many ways.

• But as it happens that, if one food sate,
• and longing for another still remain,
• for one we ask, and one decline with thanks;
• even thus with word and act did I, to learn
• from her what was the nature of the web,
• whose shuttle she drew not unto its end.

• “High worth and perfect life in-heaven” she said,
• “a lady higher up here, in whose rule
• the robe and veil are worn, that, till death come,
• both watch and sleep they may beside that Spouse,
• who every vow accepts, which love conforms
• to that which pleases Him. To follow her,

• when I was but a girl I fled the world,
• and in her habit clothing me, I promised
• that I would keep within her order’s path.
• Thereafter men more used to ill than good,
• out of that pleasant cloister dragged me forth,
• and God knows what my life was after that.

• This other splendor also, which reveals
• itself to thee upon my right, and glows
• with all the radiance of this sphere of ours,
• takes to herself what of myself I say;
• a nun she was, and likewise from her head
• the shadow of the sacred veils was torn.
• But when she, too, was brought back to the world
• against her wishes and against good usage,
• she never from the heart’s veil freed herself.
• This is the splendor of the great Costanza,
• who by the second Wind of Swabia gave
• the third and final Power birth.” She thus
• addressed me, and thereat ‘Ave, Maria’
• began to sing, and, singing, disappeared,
• as through deep water heavy objects do.

• Mine eyes which followed after her as far
• as it was possible, on losing her,
• back to the mark of greater longing turned,
• and unto Beatrice reverted wholly;
• but she so flashed upon me, as I gazed,
• that first my sight endured it not; and this
• the slower made me in my questioning.