# Paradise Canto 31

*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 30  Next: Paradise Canto 32  
> 
> Canto XXXI
> 
> Argument
> 
>      The Poet expatiates further on the glorious vision described in the last
> Canto. On looking round for Beatrice, he finds that she has left him, and that
> an old man is at his side. This proves to be St. Bernard, who shows him that
> Beatrice has returned to her throne, and then points out to him the
> blessedness of the Virgin Mother.
> 
> In fashion, as a snow white rose, lay then
> Before my view the saintly multitude,[1]
> Which in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile,
> That other host,[2] that soar aloft to gaze
> And celebrate His glory, whom they love,
> Hover'd around; and, like a troop of bees,
> Amid the vernal sweets alighting now,
> Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows,
> Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose
> From the redundant petals, streaming back
> Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy,
> Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold:
> 
> [1: Human souls, advanced to this state of glory through the
> mediation of Christ.]
> 
> [2: "That other host." The Angels.]
> 
> The rest was whiter than the driven snow;
> And, as they flitted down into the flower,
> From range to range, fanning their plumy loins,
> Whisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won
> From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast
> Interposition of such numerous flight
> Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view
> Obstructed aught. For, through the universe,
> Wherever merited, celestial light
> Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.
> 
> All there, who reign in safety and in bliss,
> Ages long past or new, on one sole mark
> Their love and vision fix'd. O trinal beam
> Of individual star, that charm'st them thus!
> Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below.[3]
> 
> [3: To guide us through the dangers of this tempestuous life.]
> 
> If the grim brood,[4] from Arctic shores that roam'd,
> (Where Helice[5] for ever, as she wheels,
> Sparkles a mother's fondness on her son),
> Stood in mute wonder' mid the works of Rome,
> When to their view the Lateran arose
> In greatness more than earthly; I, who then
> From human to divine had past, from time
> Unto eternity, and out of Florence
> To justice and to truth, how might I chuse
> But marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze,
> In sooth no will had I to utter aught,
> Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests
> Within the temple of his vow, looks round
> In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell
> Of all its goodly state; e'en so mine eyes
> Coursed up and down along the living light,
> Now low, and now aloft, and now around,
> Visiting every step. Looks I beheld,
> Where charity in soft persuasion sat;
> Smiles from within, and radiance from above;
> And, in each gesture, grace and honour high.
> 
> [4: "If the grim brood." The northern hordes who invaded Rome.]
> 
> [5: "Helice." Callistro, and her son Arcas, changed into the
> constellation of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes.]
> 
> So roved my ken, and in its general form
> All Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd
> With purpose of my lady to inquire
> Once more of things, that held my thought suspense.
> But answer found from other than I ween'd;
> For, Beatrice, when I thought to see,
> I saw instead a senior, at my side,
> Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign
> Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused,
> With gestures such as spake a father's love.
> And, "Whither is she vanish'd?" straight I ask'd.
> 
> "By Beatrice summon'd," he replied,
> "I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft
> To the third circle from the highest, there
> Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit
> Hath placed her." Answering not, mine eyes I raised,
> And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow
> A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.
> Not from the centre of the sea so far
> Unto the region of the highest thunder,
> As was my ken from hers; and yet the form
> Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure.
> 
> "O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest;
> Who, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in Hell
> To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd;
> for all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power
> And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave
> Thou hast to freedom brought me: and no means,
> For my deliverance apt, hast left untried.
> Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep:
> That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole,
> Is loosen'd from this body, it may find
> Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr'd:
> And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down,
> And smiled; then toward the eternal fountain turn'd.
> 
> And thus the senior, holy and revered:
> "That thou at length mayst happily conclude
> Thy voyage, (to which end I was despatch'd,
> By supplication moved and holy love),
> Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large,
> This garden through: for so, by ray divine
> Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount;
> And from Heaven's Queen, whom fervent I adore,
> All gracious aid befriend us; for that I
> Am her own faithful Bernard."[6] Like a wight,
> Who haply from Croatia wends to see
> Our Veronica,[7] and, the while 'tis shown,
> Hangs over it with never - sated gaze,
> And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith
> Unto himself in thought: "And didst Thou look
> E'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God?
> And was this semblance Thine?" So gazed I then
> Adoring; for the charity of him,[8]
> Who musing, in this world that peace enjoy'd,
> Stood livelily before me. "Child of grace!"
> Thus he began: "Thou shalt not knowledge gain
> Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held
> Still in this depth below. But search around
> The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy
> Seated in state, the Queen[9] that of this realm
> Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I raised; and bright,
> As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime
> Above the horizon, where the sun declines;
> So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale
> To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part
> Excell'd in lustre all the front opposed.
> And as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave,
> That waits the ascending team, which Phaeton
> Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light
> Diminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;
> So burn'd the peaceful oriflame, and slack'd
> On every side the living flame decay'd.
> 
> [6: "Bernard." St. Bernard, the venerable Abbot of Clairvaux, and the
> great promoter of the Second Crusade, who died A. D. 1153, in his sixty -
> third year. He has been termed the last of the fathers of the Church. That the
> part he acts in the present poem should be assigned to him, appears somewhat
> remarkable, when we consider that he severely censured the new festival
> established in honor of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, and "opposed
> the doctrine itself with the greatest vigor, as it supposed her being honored
> with a privilege which belonged to Christ alone."]
> 
> [7: A copy in miniature of the picture of Christ, which is supposed
> to have been miraculously imprinted upon a handkerchief preserved in the
> church of St. Peter at Rome.]
> 
> [8: "Him." St. Bernard.]
> 
> [9: "The queen." The Virgin Mary.]
> 
> And in that midst their sportive pennons waved
> Thousands of Angels; in resplendence each
> Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee
> And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven,
> That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.
> 
> Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich,
> As is the colouring in fancy's loom,
> 'Twere all too poor to utter the least part
> Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes
> Intent on her, that charm'd him; Bernard gazed
> With so exceeding fondness, as infused
> Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.
>
> — *Paradise Canto 31*