And not yet from my bosom was exhausted The ardour of sacrifice, before I knew This offering was accepted and auspicious; For with so great a lustre and so red Splendours appeared to me in twofold rays, I said: “O Helios who dost so adorn them!” Even as distinct with less and greater lights Glimmers between the two poles of the world The Galaxy that maketh wise men doubt, Thus constellated in the depths of Mars, Those rays described the venerable sign That quadrants joining in a circle make. Here doth my memory overcome my genius; For on that cross as levin gleamed forth Christ, So that I cannot find ensample worthy; But he who takes his cross and follows Christ Again will pardon me what I omit, Seeing in that aurora lighten Christ. From horn to horn, and ’twixt the top and base, Lights were in motion, brightly scintillating As they together met and passed each other; Thus level and aslant and swift and slow We here behold, renewing still the sight, The particles of bodies long and short, Across the sunbeam move, wherewith is listed Sometimes the shade, which for their own defence People with cunning and with art contrive. And as a lute and harp, accordant strung With many strings, a dulcet tinkling make To him by whom the notes are not distinguished, So from the lights that there to me appeared Upgathered through the cross a melody, Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn. Well was I ware it was of lofty laud, Because there came to me, “Arise and conquer!” As unto him who hears and comprehends not. So much enamoured I became therewith, That until then there was not anything That e’er had fettered me with such sweet bonds. Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold, Postponing the delight of those fair eyes, Into which gazing my desire has rest; But who bethinks him that the living seals Of every beauty grow in power ascending, And that I there had not turned round to those, Can me excuse, if I myself accuse To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly: For here the holy joy is not disclosed, Because ascending it becomes more pure. Paradiso: Canto XV A will benign, in which reveals itself Ever the love that righteously inspires, As in the iniquitous, cupidity, Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre, And quieted the consecrated chords, That Heaven’s right hand doth tighten and relax. How unto just entreaties shall be deaf Those substances, which, to give me desire Of praying them, with one accord grew silent? ’Tis well that without end he should lament, Who for the love of thing that doth not last Eternally despoils him of that love! As through the pure and tranquil evening air There shoots from time to time a sudden fire, Moving the eyes that steadfast were before,