Paradiso: Canto I
The glory of Him who moveth everything Doth penetrate the
universe, and shine In one part more and in another less.
Within that heaven which most his light receives Was I, and things
beheld which to repeat Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;
Because in drawing near to its desire Our intellect ingulphs itself so far,
That after it the memory cannot go.
Truly whatever of the holy realm I had the power to treasure in my
mind Shall now become the subject of my song.
O good Apollo, for this last emprise Make of me such a vessel of thy
power As giving the beloved laurel asks!
One summit of Parnassus hitherto Has been enough for me, but now
with both I needs must enter the arena left.
Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe As at the time when Marsyas
thou didst draw Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his.
O power divine, lend\'st thou thyself to me So that the shadow of the
blessed realm Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,
Thou\'lt see me come unto thy darling tree, And crown myself
thereafter with those leaves Of which the theme and thou shall make me
worthy.
So seldom, Father, do we gather them For triumph or of Caesar or of
Poet, (The fault and shame of human inclinations,)
That the Peneian foliage should bring forth Joy to the joyous Delphic
deity, When any one it makes to thirst for it.
A little spark is followed by great flame; Perchance with better voices
after me Shall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond!
To mortal men by passages diverse Uprises the world\'s lamp; but by
that one Which circles four uniteth with three crosses,
With better course and with a better star Conjoined it issues, and the
mundane wax Tempers and stamps more after its own fashion.
Almost that passage had made morning there And evening here, and
there was wholly white That hemisphere, and black the other part,