“Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes,” Such was their song, “unto thy faithful one, Who has to see thee ta’en so many steps. In grace do us the grace that thou unveil Thy face to him, so that he may discern The second beauty which thou dost conceal.” O splendour of the living light eternal! Who underneath the shadow of Parnassus Has grown so pale, or drunk so at its cistern, He would not seem to have his mind encumbered Striving to paint thee as thou didst appear, Where the harmonious heaven o’ershadowed thee, When in the open air thou didst unveil? Purgatorio: Canto XXXII So steadfast and attentive were mine eyes In satisfying their decennial thirst, That all my other senses were extinct, And upon this side and on that they had Walls of indifference, so the holy smile Drew them unto itself with the old net When forcibly my sight was turned away Towards my left hand by those goddesses, Because I heard from them a “Too intently!” And that condition of the sight which is In eyes but lately smitten by the sun Bereft me of my vision some short while; But to the less when sight re-shaped itself, I say the less in reference to the greater Splendour from which perforce I had withdrawn, I saw upon its right wing wheeled about The glorious host returning with the sun And with the sevenfold flames upon their faces. As underneath its shields, to save itself, A squadron turns, and with its banner wheels, Before the whole thereof can change its front, That soldiery of the celestial kingdom Which marched in the advance had wholly passed us Before the chariot had turned its pole. Then to the wheels the maidens turned themselves, And the Griffin moved his burden benedight, But so that not a feather of him fluttered. The lady fair who drew me through the ford Followed with Statius and myself the wheel Which made its orbit with the lesser arc. So passing through the lofty forest, vacant By fault of her who in the serpent trusted, Angelic music made our steps keep time. Perchance as great a space had in three flights An arrow loosened from the string o’erpassed, As we had moved when Beatrice descended. I heard them murmur altogether, “Adam!” Then circled they about a tree despoiled Of blooms and other leafage on each bough. Its tresses, which so much the more dilate As higher they ascend, had been by Indians Among their forests marvelled at for height. “Blessed art thou, O Griffin, who dost not Pluck with thy beak these branches sweet to taste, Since appetite by this was turned to evil.” After this fashion round the tree robust The others shouted; and the twofold creature: “Thus is preserved the seed of all the just.” And turning to the pole which he had dragged, He drew it close beneath the widowed bough, And what was of it unto it left bound.