truly and with true shame and so be stronger
against the Siren’s song another time,
control your tears and listen with your soul
to learn how my departure from the flesh
ought to have spurred you to the higher goal.
Nothing in Art or Nature could call forth
such joy from you, as sight of that fair body
which clothed me once and now sifts back to earth.
And if my dying turned that highest pleasure
to very dust, what joy could still remain
in mortal things for you to seek and treasure?
At the first blow you took from such vain things
your every thought should have been raised to follow
my flight above decay. Nor should your wings
have been weighed down by any joy below—
love of a maid, or any other fleeting
and useless thing—to wait a second blow.
The fledgling waits a second shaft, a third;
but nets are spread and the arrow sped in vain
in sight or hearing of the full-grown bird.”
As a scolded child, tongue-tied for shame, will stand
and recognize his fault, and weep for it,
bowing his head to a just reprimand,
so did I stand. And she said: “If to hear me
grieves you, now raise your beard and let your eyes
show you a greater cause for misery.”
The blast that blows from Libya’s hot sand,
or the Alpine gale, overcomes less resistance
uprooting oaks than I, at her command,
overcame then in lifting up my face;
for when she had referred to it as my “beard”
I sensed too well the venom of her phrase.
When I had raised my eyes with so much pain,
I saw those Primal Beings, now at rest,
who had strewn blossoms round her thick as rain;
and with my tear-blurred and uncertain vision
I saw Her turned to face that beast which is
one person in two natures without division.
Even veiled and across the river from me
her face outshone its first-self by as much
as she outshone all mortals formerly.
And the thorns of my repentance pricked me so
that all the use and substance of the world
I most had loved, now most appeared my foe.
Such guilty recognition gnawed my heart
I swooned for pain; and what I then became
she best knows who most gave me cause to smart.
When I returned to consciousness at last
I found the lady who had walked alone
bent over me. “Hold fast!” she said, “Hold fast!”
She had drawn me into the stream up to my throat,
and pulling me behind her, she sped on
over the water, light as any boat.
Nearing the sacred bank, I heard her say
in tones so sweet I cannot call them back,
much less describe them here: “Asperges me.”
Then the sweet lady took my head between
her open arms, and embracing me, she dipped me
and made me drink the waters that make clean.
Then raising me in my new purity
she led me to the dance of the Four Maidens;
each raised an arm and so joined hands above me.
“Here we are nymphs; stars are we in the skies.
Ere Beatrice went to earth we were ordained
her handmaids. We will lead you to her eyes;
but that your own may see what joyous light
shines in them, yonder Three, who see more deeply,
will sharpen and instruct your mortal sight.”
Thus they sang, then led me to the Griffon.
Behind him, Beatrice waited. And when I stood
at the Griffon’s breast, they said in unison:
“Look deep, look well, however your eyes may smart.
We have led you now before those emeralds
from which Love shot his arrows through your heart.”
A thousand burning passions, every one
hotter than any flame, held my eyes fixed
to the lucent eyes she held fixed on the Griffon.
Like sunlight in a glass the twofold creature
shone from the deep reflection of her eyes,
now in the one, now in the other nature.
Judge, reader, if I found it passing strange
to see the thing unaltered in itself
yet in its image working change on change.
And while my soul in wonder and delight
was savoring that food which in itself
both satisfies and quickens appetite,
the other Three, whose bearing made it clear
they were of higher rank, came toward me dancing
to the measure of their own angelic air.
“Turn, Beatrice, oh turn the eyes of grace,”
was their refrain, “upon your faithful one
who comes so far to look upon your face.
Grant us this favor of your grace: reveal
your mouth to him, and let his eyes behold
the Second Beauty, which your veils conceal.”
O splendor of the eternal living light!
who that has drunk deep of Parnassus’ waters,
or grown pale in the shadow of its height,
would not, still, feel his burdened genius fail
attempting to describe in any tongue
how you appeared when you put by your veil
in that free air open to heaven and earth
whose harmony is your shining shadowed forth!
NOTES
1. the other side: Of Lethe. But also the other side of the immortal life, i.e., still living.
2-3. edge . . . point: The image of the sword (of Justice) is carried over from lines 56-57 of the preceding Canto. It is continued in line 42, below. So far the sword has only cut, now it pierces.
11. the waters: Of Lethe.
16 ff. arbalest . . . snap . . . diminished blow: The figure is a bit confusing. Dante seems to say that the bolt (corresponding to an arrow) of a crossbow strikes the target with less force when the bow snaps. He does not stop to consider that the bolt may miss the target entirely. Nevertheless, the intent of his figure is clear enough.
25. moats . . . chain-lengths: These were, of course, defensive military measures. The moats guarded castles. The chains were strung to block roads, bridges, and gates. Both measures imply great labor forces. Thus the point of Beatrice’s question: “What enormous forces blocked your way?” The block was, of course, within Dante himself.
42. the grindstone is turned back against the blade: Turning the grindstone away from the blade sharpens it. Turning it back against the blade dulls it. Thus Beatrice is saying that when a soul openly confesses in true repentance what could not in any case be hidden from God, the sword of Justice is blunted, i.e., no longer cuts as deeply.
49-60. DANTE’S FOLLY. If the beauty of her earthly body was Dante’s supreme joy and still decayed to mere dust, says Beatrice, how could Dante have placed his trust in any other earthly thing? love of a maid: Dante mentions another maiden in some of his songs but in an indefinite way. No specific reference can be attached to these words.
62. nets: Were sometimes used for trapping birds.
68-75. your beard: Beatrice means “your face,” but the word choice is especially cutting. She has been accusing Dante of acting like a child or a fledgling bird. To refer to his beard, therefore, is a sarcastic way of reminding him that he is, presumably, a full-grown man. a greater cause for misery: The sight of her accompanied by the guilty knowledge that he had turned away from so much beauty and perfection.
80-81. that beast which is one person in two natures: The Griffon. He is the masque of Christ and r
epresents His two aspects as man and God.
83. first-self: Her mortal self.
92. the lady who had walked alone: Matilda.
94. She had drawn me into the stream: Dante wakens to find Matilda bending over him. She has already pulled Dante into Lethe and he is in the water up to his throat, but Matilda walks upon the water. The fact that this particular miracle is attributed specifically to Christ cannot fail to suggest an allegorical meaning.
97. the sacred bank: The far bank, the other side. One bank of Lethe is nearer the world, the other nearer Heaven. The sacred bank, moreover, lies the other side of the absolution of Lethe’s water. On the near side sin may still be said to exist; on the sacred side, even the memory of sin has been washed away. Contrast Beatrice’s words in line 1.
99. Asperges me: Asperges me hyssopo, et mundabor; lavabis me, et super nivem dealbabor. (“Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.”) Psalms, li, 7. These are the words the priest utters when he sprinkles holy water over the confessed sinner to absolve him. Matilda, that is to say, is performing the office of absolution. Her action, therefore, must be seen as being directly connected with Dante’s confession and repentance, for nothing else could prepare him for absolution.
104. the Four Maidens: The Four Cardinal Virtues: Justice, Prudence, Fortitude, and Temperance. In their present manifestation they are nymphs. In another manifestation they are the four stars Dante saw above him when he arrived at the base of the mountain. (I, 23, note.) As the Cardinal Virtues (i.e., the best man can achieve without the revelation of Christ’s Church) they cannot themselves bring the soul to the Second Vision (of Divine Love receiving the soul) but they can lead to the First Vision (of the Two Natures of Christ), and thence to the Three Theological Virtues, through which the Second Vision may be received.
Since Beatrice, in one of her present manifestations, represents the Authority of the Church, lines 107-108 must mean that the Four Cardinal Virtues were ordained to be the handmaidens of the Church even before it was founded, working in the virtuous pagans, and in all men, to prepare the way for the triumph of the Church.
110. yonder Three: The Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity (i.e., Caritas).
116. those emeralds: The eyes of Beatrice. Dante may have intended to describe them as green (hazel) but more likely his choice of words here is meant only to signify “jewel bright.” Green is, of course, the color of Hope, and an allegorical significance may be implied in that.
118-126. THE EYES OF BEATRICE. Led by the Four Cardinal Virtues, Dante takes his place before the Griffon and receives a first beatific vision of its nature, seeing now the lion (the human) and now the eagle (the divine); now one, now the other, constantly shifting, though the Griffon itself remains immovable (i.e., constant, perfect). He does not, however, see the two natures as one. For that revelation he must wait till he reaches the top of Paradiso.
Note that Dante does not achieve his revelation by looking at the Griffon itself, but rather by looking at its reflection in the eyes of Beatrice (as the Church). Thus he achieves here the first fruits of Faith, seeing as much of the nature of God as is perceivable in the first life. The final revelation can happen only in Heaven, in the rapturous presence of God.
129. both satisfies and quickens appetite: “They that eat me shall yet be hungry, and they that drink me shall yet be thirsty.” (Ecclesiasticus, xxiv, 21.)
138. the Second Beauty: The smile of Beatrice (Divine Love). Dante was led to the First Beauty by the Four Cardinal Virtues. Now the Three Theological Virtues, as higher beings, lead him to the second, and higher, beauty, which is the joy of Divine Love in receiving the purified soul.
140. Parnassus’ waters: The fountain of Castalia. To drink from it is to receive poetic gifts. To grow pale in the shadow of Parnassus signifies to labor at mastering the art of poetry. Note that Dante makes no effort to describe the smile of Divine Love, but only his rapture at beholding it.
145-146. that free air: Dante has earlier made the point that the Earthly Paradise possesses an atmosphere that is entirely unconstrained by earthly influences, but moves only in perfect harmony with the primal motion. That harmony is, however, no more than the shadow of the shining of Perfect Love.
Canto XXXII
THE EARTHLY PARADISE
Beatrice Unveiled
Departure of the Heavenly Pageant
Transformation of the Chariot
Beatrice unveils and for the first time in ten years Dante looks upon her face. When he recovers from that blinding sight, Dante finds the Heavenly Pageant has wheeled about and is heading east. Dante and Statius follow the Chariot to THE TREE OF GOOD AND EVIL, which rises to vast heights but bears neither leaves nor flowers. The Griffon ties the pole of the Chariot to the Tree, and the Tree immediately breaks into leaf and flower. The Heavenly Pageant greets this wonder with a hymn unknown to mortals. Overpowered by the singing DANTE SLEEPS.
He awakens to find himself, as he believes at first, alone with Matilda. The Heavenly Pageant has, in fact, departed, but as Dante soon learns, Beatrice has remained behind to guard the chariot and the Seven Nymphs have remained to attend her. She is seated upon the ground, on the roots of the tree and under its shade.
Dante then witnesses an allegorical masque of THE CORRUPTION OF THE CHURCH THROUGH WEALTH. First AN EAGLE (the Roman Empire) attacks the tree and the chariot. Then A FOX (heresy). Then the Eagle returns and covers the chariot with its feathers. Immediately A DRAGON (Satan) rips at the chariot’s foundation. The chariot then covers itself with the feathers (riches) and is converted into A MONSTROUS BEAST on which rides A HARLOT (the corrupted Papacy) attended by A GIANT (the French Monarchy) that beats the harlot and drags the monster into the woods and out of sight.
My eyes were fixed with such intensity
on quenching, at long last, their ten years’ thirst
that every sense but sight abandoned me.
Tranced by the holy smile that drew me there
into the old nets, I forgot all else—
my eyes wore blinders, and I could not care.
When suddenly my gaze was wrenched away
and forced to turn left to those goddesses:
“He stares too fixedly,” I heard them say.
And as a man is blinded by the light
when he has looked directly at the sun,
just so I found that I had lost my sight.
When I could make out lesser (I mean, of course,
“less sensible objects”) as compared to the greater
from which I had been called away by force,
I saw the legion of those souls in grace
had turned right-wheel-about, and marched back now
with the sun and the seven torches in its face.
As forward troops when they are giving ground
turn under their shields, and their standards face about
before the rest of the column has turned round—
just so the vanguard of that heavenly force
had all gone by before the chariot
had swung its pole around to the new course.
Then to their wheels the ladies turned together,
and the Griffon once more pulled the sacred car,
not ruffling so much as a single feather.
Statius and I followed across that park
with the lady who had led me through the ford,
behind the wheel that turned the lesser arc.
We marched across the sacred wood which she
who heeded a forked tongue had left deserted,
our steps timed by angelic melody.
We had moved on, I think, about as far
as three good bowshots, end to end, might reach,
when Beatrice descended from the car.
“Adam!” I heard all murmur, censuring him.
Then they all formed a circle round a tree
that bore no leaf nor flower on any limb.
> It soared so high that even in woods like those
the Indians know it would have seemed a wonder;
and the crown spread out the more the more it rose.
“Blessed art thou, Griffon, whose beak hath rent
no morsel of the sweet wood of this tree,
for it grips the belly with a raging torment!”
—So shouted all the others as they stood
about the tree. And the two-natured being:
“Thus is preserved the seed of every good!”
Then he drew up before the widowed mast
the chariot’s pole, and what came from the tree
he gave it back, and tied the two stems fast.
As in the spring on earth, when the great light
falls mingled with the rays of those sweet stars
that follow Pisces into Heaven’s height,
the trees begin to swell, then burgeon full,