SIGNS OF THE OLD LOVE

The Heavenly Pageant halts before Dante. Turning to the triumphal chariot, the prophets sing the passionate words of the Song of Solomon, “Come with me from Lebanon, my bride.” Angels above shout the joyful cry of the Gospel, “Benedictus qui venis,” “Blessed are you who come in the name of the Lord” – and also, scattering flowers, Anchises' tender words of mourning for the fate of Marcellus, “Manibus o date lilia plenis,” “O give lilies with full hands.” Readers who, with Dante, have followed Virgil's guidance up to this point, seeking an understanding of love through the eyes of his pre-Christian sensibility, are likely to experience a jolt. These words of grief seem inappropriate to a context of joyful welcome. There will be more such jolts, as Virgil, and the pagan sensibility, depart from the poem.

I have often seen at daybreak (Dante now observes) the eastern horizon glow rose, the sky above hang limpid and serene – and the sun's face come forth veiled in mist, so that the eye can look at it without pain. Even so, from that chariot, from within a cloud of flowers, a lady appeared before me, her white veil crowned with olive, her cloak green (symbol of hope), and, beneath it, in her gown, the color of living flame (symbol of Christian love).