OF SIX MEDIÆVAL WOMEN
She it is who bears grief and love together. In the morning in the dew is the most intimate rapture which first penetrates the soul."
Then speak her Chamberlains, which are the five senses: "Lady, thou must adorn thyself. We have heard a whisper that the Prince comes to meet thee in the dew, and the sweet song of the birds. Tarry not, Lady."
So she puts on a shift of gentle humility, so humble that nothing could be more so, and over it a white robe of pure chastity, so pure that she cannot endure thoughts, words, or desires which might stain it. Then she wraps herself in a cloak of holy desire, which she has wrought in gold with all the virtues. So she goes into the wood, which is the company of holy people. The sweetest nightingales sing there, day and night, of the right union with God. She tries to join in the festal dance, that is, to imitate the example of the elect. Then comes the youth and says to her: "Thou shalt dance merrily even as my Elect." And she answers: "I cannot dance, Lord, if Thou dost not lead me. If Thou wilt that I leap joyfully, Thou must first Thyself sing. Then will I leap for love, from love to knowledge, from knowledge to fruition, from fruition to beyond all human senses. There will I remain, and circle evermore."[1]
- ↑ It may be recalled that Dante (Par. xxiv.) sees the Saints in Paradise as circling lights from whence issues divine song, and again (Par. xxv.) "wheeling round in such guise as their burning love befitted."
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