"Paradise" by Dante Alighieri, Cantos 28–33

Hence,
If in this wondrous and angelic temple,
That hath for confine only light and love,
My wish may have completion I must know,
Wherefore such disagreement is between
Th’ exemplar and its copy: for myself,
Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause.

As when the sturdy north blows from his cheek
A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,
Clear’d of the rack, that hung on it before,
Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil’d,
The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles;

And when the words were ended, not unlike
To iron in the furnace, every cirque
Ebullient shot forth scintillating fires:
And every sparkle shivering to new blaze,
In number did outmillion the account
Reduplicate upon the chequer’d board.

No longer than what time Latona’s twins
Cover’d of Libra and the fleecy star,
Together both, girding the’ horizon hang,
In even balance from the zenith pois’d,
Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,
Part the nice level; e’en so brief a space
Did Beatrice’s silence hold.

Beyond time’s limit or what bound soe’er
To circumscribe his being, as he will’d,
Into new natures, like unto himself,
Eternal Love unfolded.

For do not doubt,
But to receive the grace, which heav’n vouchsafes,
Is meritorious, even as the soul
With prompt affection welcometh the guest.

Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears,
Bandied about more frequent, than the names
Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets.

Noon’s fervid hour perchance six thousand miles
From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone
Almost to level on our earth declines;
When from the midmost of this blue abyss
By turns some star is to our vision lost.

“Forth from the last corporeal are we come
Into the heav’n, that is unbodied light,
Light intellectual replete with love,
Love of true happiness replete with joy,
Joy, that transcends all sweetness of delight.

All is one beam,
Reflected from the summit of the first,
That moves, which being hence and vigour takes,
And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes
Its image mirror’d in the crystal flood,
As if t’ admire its brave appareling
Of verdure and of flowers: so, round about,
Eyeing the light, on more than million thrones,
Stood, eminent, whatever from our earth
Has to the skies return’d.

Into the yellow of the rose
Perennial, which in bright expansiveness,
Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent
Of praises to the never-wint’ring sun,
As one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace,
Beatrice led me;

Shadow none, the vast
Interposition of such numerous flight
Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view
Obstructed aught.

And in that midst their sportive pennons wav’d
Thousands of angels; in resplendence each
Distinct, and quaint adornment.

And so beseems: for that he bare the palm
Down unto Mary, when the Son of God
Vouchsaf’d to clothe him in terrestrial weeds.

Whatsoe’er may be
Of excellence in creature, pity mild,
Relenting mercy, large munificence,
Are all combin’d in thee.