第 24 节
Which I endured would have bewildered me;
If but mine eyes had been averted from it;
And I remember that I was more bold
On this account to bear; so that I joined
My aspect with the Glory Infinite。
O grace abundant; by which I presumed
To fix my sight upon the Light Eternal;
So that the seeing I consumed therein!
I saw that in its depth far down is lying
Bound up with love together in one volume;
What through the universe in leaves is scattered;
Substance; and accident; and their operations;
All interfused together in such wise
That what I speak of is one simple light。
The universal fashion of this knot
Methinks I saw; since more abundantly
In saying this I feel that I rejoice。
One moment is more lethargy to me;
Than five and twenty centuries to the emprise
That startled Neptune with the shade of Argo!
My mind in this wise wholly in suspense;
Steadfast; immovable; attentive gazed;
And evermore with gazing grew enkindled。
In presence of that light one such becomes;
That to withdraw therefrom for other prospect
It is impossible he e'er consent;
Because the good; which object is of will;
Is gathered all in this; and out of it
That is defective which is perfect there。
Shorter henceforward will my language fall
Of what I yet remember; than an infant's
Who still his tongue doth moisten at the breast。
Not because more than one unmingled semblance
Was in the living light on which I looked;
For it is always what it was before;
But through the sight; that fortified itself
In me by looking; one appearance only
To me was ever changing as I changed。
Within the deep and luminous subsistence
Of the High Light appeared to me three circles;
Of threefold colour and of one dimension;
And by the second seemed the first reflected
As Iris is by Iris; and the third
Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed。
O how all speech is feeble and falls short
Of my conceit; and this to what I saw
Is such; 'tis not enough to call it little!
O Light Eterne; sole in thyself that dwellest;
Sole knowest thyself; and; known unto thyself
And knowing; lovest and smilest on thyself!
That circulation; which being thus conceived
Appeared in thee as a reflected light;
When somewhat contemplated by mine eyes;
Within itself; of its own very colour
Seemed to me painted with our effigy;
Wherefore my sight was all absorbed therein。
As the geometrician; who endeavours
To square the circle; and discovers not;
By taking thought; the principle he wants;
Even such was I at that new apparition;
I wished to see how the image to the circle
Conformed itself; and how it there finds place;
But my own wings were not enough for this;
Had it not been that then my mind there smote
A flash of lightning; wherein came its wish。
Here vigour failed the lofty fantasy:
But now was turning my desire and will;
Even as a wheel that equally is moved;
The Love which moves the sun and the other stars。
APPENDIX
SIX SONNETS ON DANTE'S DIVINE COMEDY
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW (1807…1882)
I
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door
A laborer; pausing in the dust and heat;
Lay down his burden; and with reverent feet
Enter; and cross himself; and on the floor
Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
Far off the noises of the world retreat;
The loud vociferations of the street
Become an undistinguishable roar。
So; as I enter here from day to day;
And leave my burden at this minster gate;
Kneeling in prayer; and not ashamed to pray;
The tumult of the time disconsolate
To inarticulate murmurs dies away;
While the eternal ages watch and wait。
II
How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers!
This crowd of statues; in whose folded sleeves
Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves
Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers;
And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves
Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves;
And; underneath; the traitor Judas lowers!
Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain;
What exultations trampling on despair;
What tenderness; what tears; what hate of wrong;
What passionate outcry of a soul in pain;
Uprose this poem of the earth and air;
This mediaeval miracle of song!
III
I enter; and I see thee in the gloom
Of the long aisles; O poet saturnine!
And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine。
The air is filled with some unknown perfume;
The congregation of the dead make room
For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine;
Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine;
The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb。
From the confessionals I hear arise
Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies;
And lamentations from the crypts below
And then a voice celestial that begins
With the pathetic words; 〃Although your sins
As scarlet be;〃 and ends with 〃as the snow。〃
IV
With snow…white veil; and garments as of flame;
She stands before thee; who so long ago
Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe
From which thy song in all its splendors came;
And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name;
The ice about thy heart melts as the snow
On mountain heights; and in swift overflow
Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame。
Thou makest full confession; and a gleam
As of the dawn on some dark forest cast;
Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase;
Lethe and Eunoethe remembered dream
And the forgotten sorrowbring at last
That perfect pardon which is perfect peace。
V
I Lift mine eyes; and all the windows blaze
With forms of saints and holy men who died;
Here martyred and hereafter glorified;
And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph; and the angelic roundelays;
With splendor upon splendor multiplied;
And Beatrice again at Dante's side
No more rebukes; but smiles her words of praise。
And then the organ sounds; and unseen choirs
Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love
And benedictions of the Holy Ghost;
And the melodious bells among the spires
O'er all the house…tops and through heaven above
Proclaim the elevation of the Host!
VI
O star of morning and of liberty!
O bringer of the light; whose splendor shines
Above the darkness of the Apennines;
Forerunner of the day that is to be!
The voices of the city and the sea;
The voices of the mountains and the pines;
Repeat thy song; till the familiar lines
Are footpaths for the thought of Italy!
Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights;
Through all the nations; and a sound is heard;
As of a mighty wind; and men devout;
Strangers of Rome; and the new proselytes;
In their own language hear thy wondrous word;
And many are amazed and many doubt。
End