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In presence of that light one such becomes；
That to withdraw therefrom for other prospect
It is impossible he e'er consent；
Because the good； which object is of will；
Is gathered all in this； and out of it
That is defective which is perfect there。
Shorter henceforward will my language fall
Of what I yet remember； than an infant's
Who still his tongue doth moisten at the breast。
Not because more than one unmingled semblance
Was in the living light on which I looked；
For it is always what it was before；
But through the sight； that fortified itself
In me by looking； one appearance only
To me was ever changing as I changed。
Within the deep and luminous subsistence
Of the High Light appeared to me three circles；
Of threefold colour and of one dimension；
And by the second seemed the first reflected
As Iris is by Iris； and the third
Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed。
O how all speech is feeble and falls short
Of my conceit； and this to what I saw
Is such； 'tis not enough to call it little！
O Light Eterne； sole in thyself that dwellest；
Sole knowest thyself； and； known unto thyself
And knowing； lovest and smilest on thyself！
That circulation； which being thus conceived
Appeared in thee as a reflected light；
When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes；
Within itself； of its own very colour
Seemed to me painted with our effigy；
Wherefore my sight was all absorbed therein。
As the geometrician； who endeavours
To square the circle； and discovers not；
By taking thought； the principle he wants；
Even such was I at that new apparition；
I wished to see how the image to the circle
Conformed itself； and how it there finds place；
But my own wings were not enough for this；
Had it not been that then my mind there smote
A flash of lightning； wherein came its wish。
Here vigour failed the lofty fantasy：
But now was turning my desire and will；
Even as a wheel that equally is moved；
The Love which moves the sun and the other stars。
APPENDIX
SIX SONNETS ON DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW （1807…1882）
I
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
A laborer； pausing in the dust and heat；
Lay down his burden； and with reverent feet
Enter； and cross himself； and on the floor
Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er；
Far off the noises of the world retreat；
The loud vociferations of the street
Become an undistinguishable roar。
So； as I enter here from day to day；
And leave my burden at this minster gate；
Kneeling in prayer； and not ashamed to pray；
The tumult of the time disconsolate
To inarticulate murmurs dies away；
While the eternal ages watch and wait。
II
How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers！
This crowd of statues； in whose folded sleeves
Birds build their nests； while canopied with leaves
Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers；
And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers！
But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves；
And； underneath； the traitor Judas lowers！
Ah！ from what agonies of heart and brain；
What exultations trampling on despair；
What tenderness； what tears； what hate of wrong；
What passionate outcry of a soul in pain；
Uprose this poem of the earth and air；
This mediaeval miracle of song！
III
I enter； and I see thee in the gloom
Of the long aisles； O poet saturnine！
And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine。
The air is filled with some unknown perfume；
The congregation of the dead make room
For thee to pass； the votive tapers shine；
Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine；
The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb。
From the confessionals I hear arise
Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies；
And lamentations from the crypts below
And then a voice celestial that begins
With the pathetic words； 〃Although your sins
As scarlet be；〃 and ends with 〃as the snow。〃
IV
With snow…white veil； and garments as of flame；
She stands before thee； who so long ago
Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe
From which thy song in all its splendors came；
And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name；
The ice about thy heart melts as the snow
On mountain heights； and in swift overflow
Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame。
Thou makest full confession； and a gleam
As of the dawn on some dark forest cast；
Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase；
Lethe and Eunoethe remembered dream
And the forgotten sorrowbring at last
That perfect pardon which is perfect peace。
V
I Lift mine eyes； and all the windows blaze
With forms of saints and holy men who died；
Here martyred and hereafter glorified；
And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph； and the angelic roundelays；
With splendor upon splendor multiplied；
And Beatrice again at Dante's side
No more rebukes； but smiles her words of praise。
And then the organ sounds； and unseen choirs
Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love
And benedictions of the Holy Ghost；
And the melodious bells among the spires
O'er all the house…tops and through heaven above
Proclaim the elevation of the Host！
VI
O star of morning and of liberty！
O bringer of the light； whose splendor shines
Above the darkness of the Apennines；
Forerunner of the day that is to be！
The voices of the city and the sea；
The voices of the mountains and the pines；
Repeat thy song； till the familiar lines
Are footpaths for the thought of Italy！
Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights；
Through all the nations； and a sound is heard；
As of a mighty wind； and men devout；
Strangers of Rome； and the new proselytes；
In their own language hear thy wondrous word；
And many are amazed and many doubt。
End