Between the third hour’s close and dawn of day, Much as appears of the celestial sphere Ever in motion, like a child at play, So much appeared now of the sun’s career To be remaining towards his western way. There it was evening; here the middle night; And on our front, the rays directly beat, For we had circled so the hill that right On towards the sunset we inclined our feet; When on my brows I felt a load of light, Greater in splendor than before had been, And o’er my sense, as ’twere from things unknown, A stupor stole; and of my palms a screen I made against the excess of light that shone. As when from water or a mirror’s face The ray leaps upward to the opponent side, Mounting in like mode as through equal space The ray descendeth, and with line as wide From the direct line of a falling stone (As science shows, and art hath verified), So did I seem, by some reflected light Before me there, to be so struck that fain I would have suddenly withdrawn my sight. “What is it, gentle Father, that in vain I shield my visage from, and still towards us Seems as in motion?” He made this reply: “Marvel not if, as yet, the splendor thus Of heaven’s bright household overpowers thine eye. This one is sent to ask men up the height; Soon it shall be that to behold these things Will cause thee no dismay, but bring delight, Even as thy soul due disposition brings.” Soon as we reached the blessèd angel’s side He said, with glad voice: “Here you enter in By steps more easy than you yet have tried.” We thence departed, and, ascending now, Heard _Beati Misericordes_ chanted Below, behind us, and, “Be joyful thou To whom to conquer in this pass is granted!” My Master and myself in lonely mood Still mounting, I considered as I went How I might gather from his word some good, And turned to him inquiringly: “What meant That spirit of Romagna speaking so _Of partnership forbid_?” He made reply: “Of his own worst defect he now doth know The torment; therefore, do not wonder why Others he chides to make their penance less. Because you point your wishes at a prize Where part is lost if it permit largesse, Envy’s bad bellows move your selfish sighs. But if the love of the supernal sphere Heavenward exalted every wish of yours, Your bosom would not harbor that low fear; For so much more as there they speak of Ours, More love in that celestial cloister glows, And so much more of good each soul secures.”