The world used in its peril to believe That the fair Cypria delirious love Rayed out, in the third epicycle turning;
Wherefore not only unto her paid honour Of sacrifices and of votive cry The ancient nations in the ancient error, But both Dione honoured they and Cupid, That as her mother, this one as her son, And said that he had sat in Dido's lap;
And they from her, whence I beginning take, Took the denomination of the star That woos the sun, now following, now in front.
I was not ware of our ascending to it;
But of our being in it gave full faith My Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.
And as within a flame a spark is seen, And as within a voice a voice discerned, When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes, Within that light beheld I other lamps Move in a circle, speeding more and less, Methinks in measure of their inward vision.
From a cold cloud descended never winds, Or visible or not, so rapidly They would not laggard and impeded seem To any one who had those lights divine Seen come towards us, leaving the gyration Begun at first in the high Seraphim.
And behind those that most in front appeared Sounded "Osanna!" so that never since To hear again was I without desire.
Then unto us more nearly one approached, And it alone began: "We all are ready Unto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.
We turn around with the celestial Princes, One gyre and one gyration and one thirst, To whom thou in the world of old didst say, 'Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;'
And are so full of love, to pleasure thee A little quiet will not be less sweet."
After these eyes of mine themselves had offered Unto my Lady reverently, and she Content and certain of herself had made them, Back to the light they turned, which so great promise Made of itself, and "Say, who art thou?" was My voice, imprinted with a great affection.
O how and how much I beheld it grow With the new joy that superadded was Unto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!
Thus changed, it said to me: "The world possessed me Short time below; and, if it had been more, Much evil will be which would not have been.
My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee, Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide me Like as a creature swathed in its own silk.
Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;
For had I been below, I should have shown thee Somewhat beyond the foliage of my love.
That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itself In Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue, Me for its lord awaited in due time, And that horn of Ausonia, which is towned With Bari, with Gaeta and Catona, Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.
Already flashed upon my brow the crown Of that dominion which the Danube waters After the German borders it abandons;
And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky 'Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulf Which greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)
