51.
That all the ears of corn that may be reaped
In burning Apuleia, or sunbrowned Lybia,
With all that they unto the winds entrust,
Or that the rays from the great planet sent,
Should number those sad pains of my glad soul,
Which she from those two burning stars receives
With mournful joy in sweetest agony,
Forbid me Sense and Reason to believe.
What would'st thou more, sweet foe?
What wish is that which moves thee still to hurt,
Since this my heart of but one wound is made?
So that there lies no part that now may be
By thee or others printed, stabbed, or pierced,
Turn thee aside, turn otherwhere thy bow,
For thou dost waste thy powers, oh beauteous god!
In slaying him who lies already dead.
The meaning of all this is metaphorical, like the rest, and may be
understood in the same sense as that. Here the number of darts which
have wounded and do wound the heart, signify the innumerable individuals
and species of things, in which shine the splendour of Divine Beauty,
according to their degrees, and whence the affection for the good, well
proposed and well apprehended warms us. The which through the causes of
potentiality and actuality, of possibility and of effect, crucify and
console, give the sense of sweetness and also make the bitter to be
felt. But where the entire affection is all turned towards God, that is
towards the Idea of Ideas, from the light of intelligible things, the
mind becomes exalted to the super-essential unity, and, all love, all
one, it feels itself no longer solicited by various objects, which
distract it, but is one sole wound, in the which the whole affection
concurs and which comes to be one and the same affection. Then there is
no love or desire of any particular thing, that can urge, nor even
present itself before the will; for there is nothing more straight than
the straight, nothing more beautiful than beauty, nothing better than
goodness, nothing can be found larger than size, nor anything lighter
than that light which with its presence darkens and obliterates all
lights.
CES. To the perfect, if it be perfect, there is nothing that can be
added; therefore the will is not capable of any other desire, when that
which is of the perfect is present with it, highest and best. Therefore
I understand the conclusion where he says to Love, "Turn otherwhere thy
bow," and wherefore should he try to kill him who is already dead, that
is, he, who has no more life nor sense about other things, so that he
cannot be stabbed or pierced or become exposed to other species. And
this lament proceeds from him, who having tasted of the highest unity,
desires to be in all things severed and withdrawn from the multitude.
MAR. You understand quite well.