Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, The atomies of bodies, long or short, To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line Checkers the shadow interposed by art Against the noontide heat. And as the chime Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and harp With many strings, a pleasant dinning makes To him, who heareth not distinct the note; So from the lights, which there appeared to me, Gathered along the cross a melody, That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment Possessed me. Yet I marked it was a hymn Of lofty praises; for there came to me "Arise," and "Conquer," as to one who hears And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy O'ercame, that never, till that hour, was thing That held me in so sweet imprisonment. * * * * * THE SAINTS IN GLORY. CANTO XXXI. In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which is his own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile, That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate his glory, whom they love, Hovered around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labor glows, Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy. Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold: The rest was whiter than the driven snow; And, as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whispered the peace and ardor, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents. All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, Ages long past or new, on one sole mark Their love and vision fixed. O trinal beam Of individual star, that charm'st them thus! Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below. If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roamed (Where Helice forever, as she wheels, Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son), Stood in mute wonder mid the works of Rome, When to their view the Lateran arose In greatness more than earthly; I, who then From human to divine had passed, from time Unto eternity, and out of Florence To justice and to truth, how might I chuse But marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze, In sooth, no will had I to utter aught, Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests Within the temple of his vow, looks round In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell Of all its goodly state; e'en so mine eyes Coursed up and down along the living light, Now low, and now aloft, and now around, Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, Where charity in soft persuasion sat; Smiles from within, and radiance from above; And, in each gesture, grace and honor high.