The glory of him who moves all things pervades the universe, shining more in one part and less in another. Dante was in that heaven which most receives his light, and saw things which to tell again exceeds his power, because the intellect, so near approaching its desire, is absorbed to such depth that memory cannot follow. Nevertheless, whatever of the holy realm he could treasure in his mind shall now be matter of this song. O good Apollo, for this last labour make him such a vessel as thou requirest for the gift of thy loved laurel. One peak of Parnassus has hitherto sufficed; now both are needed. Enter his breast and breathe, as when thou drewest Marsyas from the scabbard of his limbs. If he but mark a single spark of that happy realm, he may come to the foot of the favoured tree and crown himself with leaves. Seldom does Caesar or bard gather thence a wreath, more shame for human wills depraved. From a small spark great flame hath risen: after him perchance others with better voice may pray, and gain from the Cirrhaean city answer kind. Beatrice is standing at his left, her eyes fixed on the sun. He does likewise, as never eagle so fixed his gaze. Much is permitted there which is not permitted here, through the special virtue of that place made for the human kind. He endured it not long, yet not so little that he did not see it sparkle round, like iron that comes boiling from the fire. And suddenly it seemed that day to day was added, as if he who has the power had adorned heaven with a second sun.
Beatrice stood with her eyes still on the eternal wheels, and he fixed his upon her. As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb that made him peer among the ocean gods, so looking at her he was changed within. Words may not tell of that transhuman change; therefore let the example suffice him for whom grace reserves the experience. If he was only that of him which thou didst last create, O Love that governest the heavens, thou knowest, who with thy light didst lift him. When the wheel which thou, being desired, makest eternal, drew him to itself with the harmony which thou attunest and distinguishest, it seemed that so much of the sky was kindled by the sun's flame that never rain nor river made a lake so wide. The newness of the sound and the great light kindled in him a wish sharper than any he had known, to know their cause. She, who saw him as he saw himself, to quiet his agitated mind opened her mouth before he opened his, and began: Thou art not on the earth as thou believest. For lightning escaped from its own proper place never ran as thou hast hither now returned.
If he was divested of his first doubt by these brief little-smiled words, he was the more entangled in a new one. He was already contented, and now he wonders how he can rise through these light bodies. She sighs, with a pitying look, as a mother at a child in frenzy, and begins. All things have order among themselves, and this is the form that makes the universe like God. Here the high creatures see the trace of the eternal Goodness, which is the end to which the aforesaid rule is made. In the order I speak of, all natures have their bent, according to their diverse lots, more or less near to their origin. They move to different ports over the great sea of being, each with the instinct given it to bear it on. This bears the fire toward the moon; this is in the heart of mortal things; this binds the earth together and makes it one. Nor does this bow shoot only unthinking things, but those that have intelligence and love. The providence that is so ordered makes the heaven still, within which that revolves which has the greatest haste. And now thither, as to a site decreed, the virtue of that bowstring bears us, which always aims at a joyful mark. True is it that as the form often does not accord with the intention of the art, because the matter is deaf to answer, so the creature sometimes leaves this course, having the power, thus impelled, to swerve toward some other part. And as one may see fire from a cloud, if the first impulse of the earth twist it downward, so the primal impulse, unresisted, lands the creature in joy. Thou no more admire thy soaring, if I rightly deem, than lapse of torrent downwards from a mountain's height. It would be a marvel if, free of hindrance, thou hadst fixed thyself below, like fire unmoving on the earth.
