Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri — Read

-"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son, Created beings all in lowliness Surpassing, as in height, above them all, Term by th' eternal counsel pre-ordain'd, Ennobler of thy nature, so advanc'd In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn, Himself, in his own work enclos'd to dwell! 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. Nor 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 combin'd 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 drive Each cloud of his mortality away; That on the sovran pleasure he may gaze. This also I entreat of thee, O 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 heav'n with love and awe regards, Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign She looks on pious pray'rs: then fasten'd they On th' 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 behooved), Ended within me. Beck'ning smil'd 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 't were, 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 Sybil's sentence. O eternal beam! (Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?) 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.