Looking upon his Son with all the Love
that each of them eternally breathes forth,
the first and ineffable Power
created everything that revolves
before the mind or eye
with such perfect order—
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No one can behold this sight without finding joy in Him.
Reader, lift your vision with me to those lofty spheres,
straight to that place where one celestial motion strikes against another,
and there begin to contemplate with wonder
the art of that Master who loves His work so deeply
that His eye never turns away from it.
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See how from that point branches off
the slanted circle that carries the planets,
answering the world that calls upon them.
If their pathway were not bent just so,
much power in the heavens would be wasted,
and nearly every force below would die.
If that departure from the straight line
were more or less than what it is,
the cosmic order above and below would collapse.
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Stay seated now, Reader, on your bench,
thinking through what I've given you to taste—
you'll find joy instead of weariness.
I've set the feast before you; now feed yourself,
for all my attention must turn
to that theme I've been chosen to record.
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The greatest minister of nature,
who stamps the world with heaven's power
and measures time for us with his light,
joined with that sphere I mentioned above,
was spiraling along those paths
where he appears earlier each day.
I was with him, but I felt no sense
of rising, like someone barely aware
of a thought before it fully forms.
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And Beatrice, who moves
from good to better so swiftly
that time cannot measure her action—
how radiant she must have been within herself!
What dwelt within the sun that I entered,
visible not by color but by light,
I cannot tell, though I call upon
genius, art, and all my skill—
it could never be imagined.
One can only believe, and long to see it.
If our fantasies fall short
of such heights, it's no wonder,
since no eye has ever looked beyond the sun.
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Such was the fourth family gathered here
of the exalted Father, who forever satisfies them,
showing how He breathes forth and begets.
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Beatrice began: "Give thanks, give thanks
to the Sun of Angels, who by His grace
has raised you to this visible light!"
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Never was a mortal heart so ready
to worship, so prepared to offer itself
to God with complete gratitude,
as I became at those words.
All my love was so absorbed in Him
that Beatrice faded from my awareness.
This didn't displease her—she smiled
so that the splendor of her laughing eyes
divided my focused mind among many things.
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I saw many lights, brilliant and triumphant,
making us their center as they formed a circle,
sweeter in voice than radiant in appearance.
Just as we sometimes see Latona's daughter
crowned with a halo when the air is thick enough
to hold the thread that makes her belt.
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In heaven's court, from which I return,
are found many gems so beautiful and precious
they cannot be carried from that realm—
and among them was the song of these lights.
Whoever doesn't take wings to fly up there
must wait for news from the voiceless!
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When those blazing suns had circled us
three times with their singing,
like stars near the fixed poles,
they seemed like dancers not released
from the dance, but pausing in silence,
listening until they catch the new melody.
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From within one light I heard these words begin:
"Since the radiance of grace that kindles
true love, and then grows through loving,
shines so brilliantly within you
that it leads you up that stair
which none descends without climbing again,
whoever would refuse wine from his flask
to quench your thirst would be no more free
than water that doesn't flow to the sea.
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You want to know what flowers bloom
in this garland that circles with delight
the beautiful Lady who strengthens you for heaven.
I was one of the lambs in that holy flock
that Dominic leads along the road
where souls grow fat if they don't stray.
The one nearest me on the right
was my brother and teacher—Albert
of Cologne. I am Thomas of Aquinas.
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If you want to know all the others,
follow my words with your sight,
tracing upward around this blessed garland.
That next radiance streams from the smile
of Gratian, who served both courts so well
that it brings pleasure here in Paradise.
The other who adorns our choir nearby
was Peter, who like the poor widow
offered his treasure to Holy Church.
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The fifth light, most beautiful among us,
breathes with such love that the whole world below
hungers to hear news of it.
Within burns that lofty mind given knowledge
so deep that, if truth be true,
no second soul ever rose to see so much.
Next you see the light of that candle
who, while in flesh below, looked deepest
into the angelic nature and its work.
In that other small light smiles
the defender of Christian times,
whose rhetoric furnished Augustine's arguments.
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Now if you train your mind's eye
from light to light, following my praise,
you're already thirsting for the eighth.
Through seeing all good, there rejoices
that blessed soul who makes the world's deception
clear to anyone who listens well.
The body from which it was driven out
lies below in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom
and exile it came to this peace.
See blazing beyond, the fiery breath
of Isidore, of Bede, and of Richard,
who in contemplation was more than man.
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This one, to whom your gaze returns,
is the light of a spirit who found
death too slow for his deep meditations.
This is the eternal light of Siger,
who teaching in the Street of Straw
reasoned truths that stirred up envy."
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Then like a clock that calls us
when God's Bride rises up
with matins to her Spouse, that He may love her—
where each part pulls and drives the other,
chiming with notes so sweet
they swell the well-ordered spirit with love—
so I saw that glorious wheel turn,
voice answering voice in harmony
and sweetness that can only be known
there where joy is made eternal.
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