O Ye, who in some pretty little boat, Eager to listen, have been following Behind my ship, that singing sails along, Turn back to look again upon your shores;

Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure, In losing me, you might yourselves be lost.

The sea I sail has never yet been passed;

Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo, And Muses nine point out to me the Bears.

Ye other few who have the neck uplifted Betimes to th' bread of Angels upon which One liveth here and grows not sated by it, Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you Upon the water that grows smooth again.

Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be, When Jason they beheld a ploughman made!

The con-created and perpetual thirst For the realm deiform did bear us on, As swift almost as ye the heavens behold.

Upward gazed Beatrice, and I at her;

And in such space perchance as strikes a bolt And flies, and from the notch unlocks itself, Arrived I saw me where a wondrous thing Drew to itself my sight; and therefore she From whom no care of mine could be concealed, Towards me turning, blithe as beautiful, Said unto me: "Fix gratefully thy mind On God, who unto the first star has brought us."

It seemed to me a cloud encompassed us, Luminous, dense, consolidate and bright As adamant on which the sun is striking.

Into itself did the eternal pearl Receive us, even as water doth receive A ray of light, remaining still unbroken.

If I was body, (and we here conceive not How one dimension tolerates another, Which needs must be if body enter body,)

More the desire should be enkindled in us That essence to behold, wherein is seen How God and our own nature were united.

There will be seen what we receive by faith, Not demonstrated, but self-evident In guise of the first truth that man believes.

I made reply: "Madonna, as devoutly As most I can do I give thanks to Him Who has removed me from the mortal world.

But tell me what the dusky spots may be Upon this body, which below on earth Make people tell that fabulous tale of Cain?"

Somewhat she smiled; and then, "If the opinion Of mortals be erroneous," she said, "Where'er the key of sense doth not unlock, Certes, the shafts of wonder should not pierce thee Now, forasmuch as, following the senses, Thou seest that the reason has short wings.

But tell me what thou think'st of it thyself."

And I: "What seems to us up here diverse, Is caused, I think, by bodies rare and dense."

And she: "Right truly shalt thou see immersed In error thy belief, if well thou hearest The argument that I shall make against it.

Lights many the eighth sphere displays to you Which in their quality and quantity May noted be of aspects different.

If this were caused by rare and dense alone, One only virtue would there be in all Or more or less diffused, or equally.

Virtues diverse must be perforce the fruits Of formal principles; and these, save one, Of course would by thy reasoning be destroyed.