# Paradise Canto 33

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-20 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Paradise Canto 32  
> 
> Canto XXXIII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      St. Bernard supplicates the Virgin Mary that Dante may have grace given
> him to contemplate the brightness of the Divine Majesty, which is accordingly
> granted; and Dante then himself prays to God for ability to show forth some
> part of the celestial glory in his writings. Lastly, he is admitted to a
> glimpse of the great mystery; the Trinity, and the Union of Man with God.
> 
> "O Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son!
> Created beings all in lowliness
> Surpassing, as in height above them all;
> Term by the eternal counsel pre - ordain'd;
> Ennobler of thy nature, so advanced
> In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn,
> To make Himself his own creation;
> For in thy womb rekindling shone the love
> Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now
> This flower to germin in eternal peace:
> Here thou to us, of charity and love,
> Art, as the noon - day torch; and art, beneath,
> To mortal men, of hope a living spring.
> So mighty art thou, Lady, and so great,
> That he, who grace desireth, and comes not
> To thee for aidance, fain would have desire
> Fly without wings. Not only him, who asks,
> Thy bounty succours; but doth freely oft
> Forerun the asking. Whatsoe'er may be
> Of excellence in creature, pity mild,
> Relenting mercy, large munificence,
> Are all combined in thee. Here kneeleth one,
> Who of all spirits hath review'd the state,
> From the world's lowest gap unto this height.
> Suppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace
> For virtue yet more high, to lift his ken
> Toward the bliss supreme. And I, who ne'er
> Coveted sight, more fondly, for myself,
> Than now for him, my prayers to thee prefer,
> (And pray they be not scant), that thou wouldst
> Each cloud of his mortality away, [drive
> Through thine own prayers, that on the sovran joy
> Unveil'd he gaze. This yet, I pray thee, Queen,
> Who canst do what thou wilt; that in him thou
> Wouldst, after all he hath beheld, preserve
> Affection sound, and human passions quell.
> Lo! where, with Beatrice, many a saint
> Stretch their clasp'd hands, in furtherance of my suit."
> 
> The eyes, that Heaven with love and awe regards,
> Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign
> She looks on pious prayers: then fasten'd they
> On the everlasting light, wherein no eye
> Of creature, as may well be thought, so far
> Can travel inward. I, meanwhile, who drew
> Near to the limit, where all wishes end,
> The ardour of my wish (for so behoved)
> Ended within me. Beckoning smiled the sage,
> That I should look aloft: but, ere he bade,
> Already of myself aloft I look'd;
> For visual strength, refining more and more,
> Bare me into the ray authentical
> Of sovran light. Thenceforward, what I saw,
> Was not for words to speak, nor memory's self
> To stand against such outrage on her skill.
> 
> As one, who from a dream awaken'd, straight,
> All he hath seen forgets; yet still retains
> Impression of the feeling in his dream;
> E'en such am I: for all the vision dies,
> As 'twere, away; and yet the sense of sweet,
> That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart.
> Thus in the sun - thaw is the snow unseal'd;
> Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost
> The Sibyl's sentence. O eternal beam! [soar?]
> (Whose height what reach of mortal thought may
> Yield me again some little particle
> Of what Thou then appearedst; give my tongue
> Power, but to leave one sparkle of Thy glory,
> Unto the race to come, that shall not lose
> Thy triumph wholly, if Thou waken aught
> Of memory in me, and endure to hear
> The record sound in this unequal strain.
> 
> Such keenness from the living ray I met,
> That, if mine eyes had turn'd away, methinks,
> I had been lost; but, so embolden'd, on
> I pass'd, as I remember, till my view
> Hover'd the brink of dread infinitude.
> 
> O grace, unenvying of Thy boon! that gavest
> Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken
> On the everlasting splendour, that I look'd,
> While sight was unconsumed, and, in that depth,
> Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whate'er
> The universe unfolds; all properties
> Of substance and of accident, beheld,
> Compounded, yet one individual light
> The whole. And of such bond methinks I saw
> The universal form; for that whene'er
> I do but speak of it, my soul dilates
> Beyond her proper self; and, till I speak,
> One moment seems a longer lethargy,
> Than five - and - twenty ages had appear'd
> To that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder
> At Argo's shadow darkening on his flood.
> 
> With fixed heed, suspense and motionless,
> Wondering I gazed; and admiration still
> Was kindled as I gazed. It may not be,
> That one, who looks upon that light, can turn
> To other object, willingly, his view.
> For all the good, that will may covet, there
> Is summ'd; and all, elsewhere defective found,
> Complete. My tongue shall utter now, no more
> E'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's
> That yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast.
> Not that the semblance of the living light
> Was changed, (that ever as at first remain'd),
> But that my vision quickening, in that sole
> Appearance, still new miracles descried,
> And toil'd me with the change. In that abyss
> Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd, methought,
> Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound:[1]
> And, from another, one reflected seem'd,
> 
> [1: "Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound." The Trinity. This
> passage may be compared to what Plato, in his second Epistle, enigmatically
> says of a first, second, and third, and of the impossibility that the human
> soul should attain to what it desires to know of them, by means of anything
> akin to itself.]
> 
> As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third
> Seem'd fire, breathed equally from both. O speech!
> How feeble and how faint art thou, to give
> Conception birth. Yet this to what I saw
> Is less than little. O eternal Light!
> Sole in Thyself that dwell'st; and of Thyself
> Sole understood, past, present, or to come;
> Thou smiledst, on that circling,[2] which in Thee
> Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mused;
> For I therein, methought, in its own hue
> Beheld our image painted: steadfastly
> I therefore pored upon the view. As one,
> Who versed in geometric lore, would fain
> Measure the circle; and, though pondering long
> And deeply, that beginning, which he needs,
> Finds not: e'en such was I, intent to scan
> The novel wonder, and trace out the form,
> How to the circle fitted, and therein
> How placed: but the flight was not for my wing;
> Had not a flash darted athwart my mind,
> And, in the spleen, unfolded what it sought.
> 
> [2: "That circling." The second of the circles, "Light of Light," in
> which he dimly beheld the mystery of the Incarnation.]
> 
> Here vigour fail'd the towering fantasy:
> But yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel
> In even motion, by the Love impell'd,
> That moves the sun in Heaven and all the stars.
>
> — *Paradise Canto 33*