[2] “That as sin had reigned unto deaths, even so might grace reign through righteousness unto eternal life, by Jesus Christ, our Lord.”—Id., v. 21.
[3] This pole, the mystic type of the cross of Christ, supposed to have been made of the wood of this tree.
As our plants, when the great light falls downward mingled with that which shines behind the celestial Carp,[1] become swollen, and then renew themselves, each in its own color, ere the sun yoke his coursers under another star, so disclosing a color less than of roses and more than of violets, the plant renewed itself, which first had its boughs so bare.[2] I did not understand the hymn, and it is not sung here,[3] which that folk then sang, nor did I hear the melody to the end.
[1] In this spring, when the Sun is in Aries, the sign which follows that of the Pisces here termed the Carp.
[2] This tree, after the death of Christ, still remains this symbol of the knowledge of good and of evil, as well as this sign of obedience to the Divine Will. Its renewal with flowers and foliage seems to he the image at once of the revelation of Divine truth through Christ, and of his obedience unto death.
[3] On earth.
If I could portray how the pitiless eyes[1] sank to slumber, while hearing of Syrinx, the eyes to which too much watching cost so dear, hike a painter who paints from a model I would depict how I fell asleep; but whoso would, let him be one who can picture slumber well.[2] Therefore I pass on to when I awoke, and say that a splendor rent for me the veil of sleep, and a call, “Arise, what doest thou?”
[1] The hundred eyes of Argus, who, when watching Io, fell asleep while listening to the tale of the loves of Pan and Syrinx, and was then slain by Mercury.
[2] The sleep of Dante may signify the impotency of human reason to explain the mysteries of redemption.
As, to see some of the flowerets of the apple-tree[1] which makes the Angels greedy of its fruit,[2] and makes perpetual bridal feasts in Heaven,[3] Peter and John and James were led,[4] and being overcome, came to themselves at the word by which greater slumbers[5] were broken, and saw their band diminished alike by Moses and Elias, and the raiment of their Master changed, so I came to myself, and saw that compassionate one standing above me, who first had been conductress of my steps along the stream; and all in doubt I said, “Where is Beatrice?” And she, “Behold her under the new leafage sitting upon its root. Behold the company that surrounds her; the rest are going on high behind the griffon, with sweeter song and more profound.”[6] And if her speech was more diffuse I know not, because already in my eyes was she who from attending to aught else had closed me in. Alone she was sitting upon the bare ground, like a guard left there of the chariot which I had seen bound by the biform animal. In a circle the seven Nymphs were making of themselves an enclosure for her, with those lights in their hands that are secure from Aquilo and from Auster.[7]