In fashion then as of a snow-white rose
  Displayed itself to me the saintly host,
  Whom Christ in his own blood had made his bride,

But the other host, that flying sees and sings
  The glory of Him who doth enamour it,
  And the goodness that created it so noble,

Even as a swarm of bees, that sinks in flowers
  One moment, and the next returns again
  To where its labour is to sweetness turned,

Sank into the great flower, that is adorned
  With leaves so many, and thence reascended
  To where its love abideth evermore.

Their faces had they all of living flame,
  And wings of gold, and all the rest so white
  No snow unto that limit doth attain.

From bench to bench, into the flower descending,
  They carried something of the peace and ardour
  Which by the fanning of their flanks they won.

Nor did the interposing 'twixt the flower
  And what was o'er it of such plenitude
  Of flying shapes impede the sight and splendour;

Because the light divine so penetrates
  The universe, according to its merit,
  That naught can be an obstacle against it.

This realm secure and full of gladsomeness,
  Crowded with ancient people and with modern,
  Unto one mark had all its look and love.

O Trinal Light, that in a single star
  Sparkling upon their sight so satisfies them,
  Look down upon our tempest here below!

If the barbarians, coming from some region
  That every day by Helice is covered,
  Revolving with her son whom she delights in,

Beholding Rome and all her noble works,
  Were wonder-struck, what time the Lateran
  Above all mortal things was eminent,--

I who to the divine had from the human,
  From time unto eternity, had come,
  From Florence to a people just and sane,

With what amazement must I have been filled!
  Truly between this and the joy, it was
  My pleasure not to hear, and to be mute.

And as a pilgrim who delighteth him
  In gazing round the temple of his vow,
  And hopes some day to retell how it was,

So through the living light my way pursuing
  Directed I mine eyes o'er all the ranks,
  Now up, now down, and now all round about.

Faces I saw of charity persuasive,
  Embellished by His light and their own smile,
  And attitudes adorned with every grace.

The general form of Paradise already
  My glance had comprehended as a whole,
  In no part hitherto remaining fixed,

And round I turned me with rekindled wish
  My Lady to interrogate of things
  Concerning which my mind was in suspense.

One thing I meant, another answered me;
  I thought I should see Beatrice, and saw
  An Old Man habited like the glorious people.

O'erflowing was he in his eyes and cheeks
  With joy benign, in attitude of pity
  As to a tender father is becoming.

And "She, where is she?" instantly I said;
  Whence he: "To put an end to thy desire,
  Me Beatrice hath sent from mine own place.

And if thou lookest up to the third round
  Of the first rank, again shalt thou behold her
  Upon the throne her merits have assigned her."

Without reply I lifted up mine eyes,
  And saw her, as she made herself a crown
  Reflecting from herself the eternal rays.