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    Canto XXVI - Page 2

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    the right have placed me on the shore.
    The leaves, wherewith embowered is all the garden
    Of the Eternal Gardener, do I love
    As much as he has granted them of good."
    As soon as I had ceased, a song most sweet
    Throughout the heaven resounded, and my Lady
    Said with the others, "Holy, holy, holy!"
    And as at some keen light one wakes from sleep
    By reason of the visual spirit that runs
    Unto the splendour passed from coat to coat,
    And he who wakes abhorreth what he sees,
    So all unconscious is his sudden waking,
    Until the judgment cometh to his aid,
    So from before mine eyes did Beatrice
    Chase every mote with radiance of her own,
    That cast its light a thousand miles and more.
    Whence better after than before I saw,
    And in a kind of wonderment I asked
    About a fourth light that I saw with us.
    And said my Lady: "There within those rays
    Gazes upon its Maker the first soul
    That ever the first virtue did create."
    Even as the bough that downward bends its top
    At transit of the wind, and then is lifted
    By its own virtue, which inclines it upward,
    Likewise did I, the while that she was speaking,
    Being amazed, and then I was made bold
    By a desire to speak wherewith I burned.
    And I began: "O apple, that mature
    Alone hast been produced, O ancient father,
    To whom each wife is daughter and daughter-in-law,
    Devoutly as I can I supplicate thee
    That thou wouldst speak to me; thou seest my wish;
    And I, to hear thee quickly, speak it not."
    Sometimes an animal, when covered, struggles
    So that his impulse needs must be apparent,
    By reason of the wrappage following it;
    And in like manner the primeval soul
    Made clear to me athwart its covering
    How jubilant it was to give me pleasure.
    Then breathed: "Without thy uttering it to me,
    Thine inclination better I discern
    Than thou whatever thing is surest to thee;
    For I behold it in the truthful mirror,
    That of Himself all things parhelion makes,
    And none makes Him parhelion of itself.
    Thou fain wouldst hear how long ago God placed me
    Within the lofty garden, where this Lady
    Unto so long a stairway thee disposed.
    And how long to mine eyes it was a pleasure,
    And of the great disdain the proper cause,
    And the language that I used and that I made.

    Now, son of mine, the tasting of the tree
    Not in itself was cause of so great exile,
    But solely the o'erstepping of the bounds.
    There, whence thy Lady moved Virgilius,
    Four thousand and three hundred and two circuits
    Made by the sun, this Council I desired;
    And him I saw return to all the lights
    Of his highway nine hundred times and thirty,
    Whilst I upon the earth was tarrying.
    The language that I spake was quite extinct
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