# Paradise Canto 14

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-19 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Paradise Canto 13  Next: Paradise Canto 15  
> 
> Canto XIV
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Solomon, who is one of the spirits in the inner circle, declares what the
> appearance of the blest will be after the resurrection of the body. Beatrice
> and Dante are translated into the fifth heaven, which is that of Mars; and
> here behold the souls of those, who had died fighting for the true faith,
> ranged in the sign of the cross, athwart which the spirits move to the sound
> of a melodious hymn.
> 
> From centre to the circle, and so back
> From circle to the centre, water moves
> In the round chalice, even as the blow
> Impels it, inwardly, or from without.
> Such was the image[1] glanced into my mind,
> As the great spirit of Aquinum ceased;
> And Beatrice, after him, her words
> Resumed alternate: "Need there is (though yet
> He tells it to you not in words, nor e'en
> In thought) that he should fathom to its depth
> Another mystery. Tell him, if the light,
> Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you
> Eternally, as now; and, if it doth,
> How, when[2] ye shall regain your visible forms,
> The sight may without harm endure the change,
> That also tell." As those, who in a ring
> Tread the light measure, in their fitful mirth
> Raise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound;
> Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit,
> The saintly circles, in their tourneying
> And wondrous note, attested new delight.
> 
> [1: The voice of Thomas Aquinas proceeding from the circle to the
> centre; and that of Beatrice, from the centre to the circle.]
> 
> [2: "When." When ye shall be again clothed with your bodies at the
> resurrection.]
> 
> Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb
> Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live
> Immortally above; he hath not seen
> The sweet refreshing of that heavenly shower.[3]
> 
> [3: That effusion of beatific light.]
> 
> Him, who lives ever, and forever reigns
> In mystic union of the three in one,
> Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice
> Sang, with such melody, as, but to hear,
> For highest merit were an ample meed.
> 
> And from the lesser orb the goodliest light,[4]
> With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps
> The Angel's once to Mary, thus replied:
> "Long as the joy of Paradise shall last,
> Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright
> As fervent; fervent as, in vision, blest;
> And that as far, in blessedness, exceeding,
> As it hath grace, beyond its virtue, great.
> Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds
> Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire,
> Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase
> Whate'er, of light, gratuitous imparts
> The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid,
> The better to disclose His glory; whence,
> The vision needs increasing, must increase
> The fervour, which it kindles; and that too
> The ray, that comes from it. But as the gleed
> Which gives out flame, yet in its whiteness shines
> More livelily than that, and so preserves
> Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere
> Of splendour shall to view less radiant seem,
> Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth
> Now covers. Nor will such excess of light
> O'erpowtr us, in corporeal organs made
> Firm, and susceptible of all delight."
> 
> [4: "The goodliest light." Solomon.]
> 
> So ready and so cordial an "Amen"
> Follow'd from either choir, as plainly spoke
> Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance
> Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear,
> Mothers and sires, and those whom best they loved,
> Ere they were made imperishable flame.
> 
> And lo! forthwith there rose up round about
> A lustre, over that already there;
> Of equal clearness, like the brightening up
> Of the horizon. As at evening hour
> Of twilight, new appearances through Heaven
> Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried;
> So, there, new substances, methought, began
> To rise in view beyond the other twain,
> 
> And wheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.
> 
> O genuine glitter of eternal Beam!
> With what a sudden whiteness did it flow,
> O'erpowering vision in me. But so fair,
> So passing lovely, Beatrice show'd,
> Mind cannot follow it, nor words express
> Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain'd
> Power to look up; and I beheld myself,
> Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss[5]
> Translated: for the star, with warmer smile
> Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.
> 
> [5: "To more lofty bliss." To the planet Mars.]
> 
> With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks
> The same in all, an holocaust I made
> To God, befitting the new grace vouchsafed.
> And from my bosom had not yet upsteam'd
> The fuming of that incense, when I knew
> The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen
> And mantling crimson, in two listed rays
> The splendours shot before me, that I cried,
> "God of Sabaoth! that dost prank them thus!"
> 
> As leads the galaxy from pole to pole,
> Distinguish'd into greater lights and less,
> Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;
> So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,
> Those rays described the venerable sign,
> That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.
> 
> Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ
> Beam'd on that cross; and pattern fails me now.
> But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ,
> Will pardon me for that I leave untold,
> When in the flecker'd dawning he shall spy
> The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn,
> And 'tween the summit and the base, did move
> Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass'd.
> Thus oft are seen with ever - changeful glance,
> Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow,
> The atomies of bodies, long or short,
> To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line
> Checkers the shadow interposed by art
> 
> Against the noontide heat. And as the chime
> Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and harp
> With many strings, a pleasant dinning makes
> To him, who heareth not distinct the note;
> So from the lights, which there appear'd to me,
> Gather'd along the cross a melody,
> That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment
> Possess'd me. Yet I mark'd it was a hymn
> Of lofty praises; for there came to me
> "Arise," and "Conquer," as to one who hears
> And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy
> O'ercame, that never, till that hour, was thing
> That held me in so sweet imprisonment.
> 
> Perhaps my saying overbold appears,
> Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes,
> Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.
> But he, who is aware those living seals
> Of every beauty work with quicker force,
> The higher they are risen; and that there
> I had not turn'd me to them; he may well
> Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse
> I do accuse me, and may own my truth;
> That holy pleasure here not yet reveal'd
> Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.
>
> — *Paradise Canto 14*