There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, That, whither love aspires, there shall my dwelling THE IMAGE OF GOD. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. O LORD! that seest, from yon starry height, Yet, in the hoary winter of my days, For ever green shall be my trust in Heaven. Before my spirit, and an image fair Shall meet that look of mercy from on high, As the reflected image in a glass Doth meet the look of him who seeks it there, be. The soul of April, unto whom are born As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles count! Thou shun'st the haunts of man, to dwell in limpid THE CELESTIAL PILOT. FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, II. AND now, behold! as at the approach of morning, Appeared to me,-may I again behold it!— And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little Thereafter, on all sides of it, appeared I knew not what of white, and underneath, fount! THE CELESTIAL PILOT. My master yet had uttered not a word, He cried aloud: 66 Quick, quick, and bow the knee! Behold the Angel of God! fold up thy hands! Henceforward shalt thou see such officers! 'See, how he scorns all human arguments, So that no oar he wants, nor other sail Than his own wings, between so distant shores ! "See, how he holds them, pointed straight to heaven, Fanning the air with the eternal pinions, That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!" And then, as nearer and more near us came But down I cast it; and he came to shore Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot! "In exitu Israel out of Egypt!" Thus sang they all together in one voice, Then made he sign of holy rood upon them, THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE. FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXVIII. LONGING already to search in and round Withouten more delay I left the bank, Over the soil, that everywhere breathed fragrance. A gently-breathing air, that no mutation. Whereat the tremulous branches readily Did all of them bow downward towards that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain; Yet not from their upright direction bent But, with full-throated joy, the hours of prime Even as from branch to branch it gathering swelle, Through the pine forests on the shore of Chiassi, When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. Already my slow steps had led me on Could see no more the place where I had entered. |