Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir,
“Hosanna,” to the fixed point, that holds,
And shall for ever hold them to their place,
From everlasting, irremovable. 
     Musing awhile I stood:  and she, who saw
by inward meditations, thus began: 
“In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst,
Are seraphim and cherubim.  Thus swift
Follow their hoops, in likeness to the point,
Near as they can, approaching; and they can
The more, the loftier their vision.  Those,
That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,
Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends.  And all
Are blessed, even as their sight descends
Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is
For every mind.  Thus happiness hath root
In seeing, not in loving, which of sight
Is aftergrowth.  And of the seeing such
The meed, as unto each in due degree
Grace and good-will their measure have assign’d. 
The other trine, that with still opening buds
In this eternal springtide blossom fair,
Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram,
Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold
Hosannas blending ever, from the three
Transmitted. hierarchy of gods, for aye
Rejoicing, dominations first, next then
Virtues, and powers the third.  The next to whom
Are princedoms and archangels, with glad round
To tread their festal ring; and last the band
Angelical, disporting in their sphere. 
All, as they circle in their orders, look
Aloft, and downward with such sway prevail,
That all with mutual impulse tend to God. 
These once a mortal view beheld.  Desire
In Dionysius so intently wrought,
That he, as I have done rang’d them; and nam’d
Their orders, marshal’d in his thought.  From him
Dissentient, one refus’d his sacred read. 
But soon as in this heav’n his doubting eyes
Were open’d, Gregory at his error smil’d
Nor marvel, that a denizen of earth
Should scan such secret truth; for he had learnt
Both this and much beside of these our orbs,
From an eye-witness to heav’n’s mysteries.”

CANTO XXIX

No longer than what time Latona’s twins
Cover’d of Libra and the fleecy star,
Together both, girding the’ horizon hang,
In even balance from the zenith pois’d,
Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,
Part the nice level; e’en so brief a space
Did Beatrice’s silence hold.  A smile
Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix’d gaze
Bent on the point, at which my vision fail’d: 
When thus her words resuming she began: 
“I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;
For I have mark’d it, where all time and place
Are present.  Not for increase to himself
Of good, which may not be increas’d, but forth
To manifest his glory by its beams,
Inhabiting his own eternity,
Beyond time’s limit or what bound soe’er
To circumscribe his being, as he will’d,