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    "endpoint": "/api/sources/divine-comedy/inferno/canto-34.json"
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  "work": {
    "slug": "inferno",
    "name": "Inferno"
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  "parents": [
    {
      "slug": "divine-comedy",
      "name": "Divine Comedy",
      "url": "/sources/divine-comedy/"
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  "chapter": {
    "num": 34,
    "slug": "canto-34",
    "title": "Inferno · Canto 34",
    "of": 34,
    "words": 98612,
    "text": "## Inferno Canto 34\n\n\nCanto XXXIV\n\nArgument\n\nIn the fourth and last round of the ninth circle, those who have betrayed\ntheir benefactors are wholly covered with ice. And in the midst is Lucifer, at\nwhose back Dante and Virgil ascend, till by a secret path they reach the\nsurface of the other hemisphere of the earth, and once more obtain sight of\nthe stars.\n\n\"The banners of Hell's Monarch do come forth\nToward us; therefore look,\" so spake my guide,\n\"If thou discern him.\" As, when breathes a cloud\nHeavy and dense, or when the shades of night\nFall on our hemisphere, seems view'd from far\nA windmill, which the blast stirs briskly round;\nSuch was the fabric then methought I saw.\n\nTo shield me from the wind, forthwith I drew\nBehind my guide: no covert else was there.\n\nNow came I (and with fear I bid my strain\nRecord the marvel) where the souls were all\nWhelm'd underneath, transparent, as through glass\nPellucid the frail stem. Some prone were laid;\nOthers stood upright, this upon the soles,\nThat on his head, a third with face to feet\nArch'd like a bow. When to the point we came,\nWhereat my guide was pleased that I should see\n\nThe creature eminent in beauty once,\nHe from before me stepp'd and made me pause.\n\n\"Lo!\" he exclaim'd, \"lo! Dis; and lo! the place,\nWhere thou hast need to arm thy heart with strength.\"\n\nHow frozen and how faint I then became,\nAsk me not, reader! for I write it not;\nSince words would fail to tell thee of my state.\nI was not dead nor living. Think thyself,\nIf quick conception work in thee at all,\nHow I did feel. That emperor, who sways\nThe realm of sorrow, at mid breast from the ice\nStood forth; and I in stature am more like\nA giant, than the giants are his arms.\nMark now how great that whole must be, which suits\nWith such a part. If he were beautiful\nAs he is hideous now, and yet did dare\nTo scowl upon his Maker, well from him\nMay all our misery flow. Oh what a sight!\nHow passing strange it seem'd, when I did spy\nUpon his head three faces: one in front\nOf hue vermilion, the other two with this\nMidway each shoulder join'd and at the crest;\nThe right 'twixt wan and yellow seem'd; the left\nTo look on, such as come from whence old Nile\nStoops to the lowlands. Under each shot forth\nTwo mighty wings, enormous as became\nA bird so vast. Sails never such I saw\nOutstretch'd on the wide sea. No plumes had they,\nBut were in texture like a bat; and these\nHe flapp'd i' th' air, that from him issued still\nThree winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depth\nWas frozen. At six eyes he wept: the tears\nAdown three chins distill'd with bloody foam.\nAt every mouth his teeth a sinner champ'd,\nBruised as with ponderous engine; so that three\nWere in this guise tormented. But far more\nThan from that gnawing, was the foremost pang'd\nBy the fierce rending, whence oft - times the back\nWas stript of all its skin. \"That upper spirit,\nWho hath worst punishment,\" so spake my guide,\n\"Is Judas, he that hath his head within\nAnd plies the feet without. Of th' other two,\nWhose heads are under, from the murky jaw\nWho hangs, is Brutus:[1] lo! how he doth writhe\nAnd speaks not. The other, Cassius, that appears\nSo large of limb. But night now reascends;\nAnd it is time for parting. All is seen.\"\n\n[1: \"Brutus.\" Landino struggles to extricate Brutus from the unworthy\nlot which is here assigned him. He maintains that by Brutus and Cassius are\nnot meant the individuals known by those names, but any who put a lawful\nmonarch to death. Yet if Caesar was such, the conspirators might be regarded\nas deserving of their doom. If Dante, however, believed Brutus to have been\nactuated by evil motives in putting Caesar to death, the excellence of the\npatriot's character in other respects would only have aggravated his guilt in\nthat particular.]\n\nI clipp'd him round the neck; for so he bade:\nAnd noting time and place, he, when the wings\nEnough were oped, caught fast the shaggy sides,\nAnd down from pile to pile descending stepp'd\nBetween the thick fell and the jagged ice.\n\nSoon as he reach'd the point, whereat the thigh\nUpon the swelling of the haunches turns,\nMy leader there, with pain and struggling hard,\nTurn'd round his head where his feet stood before,\nAnd grappled at the fell as one who mounts;\nThat into Hell methought we turn'd again.\n\n\"Expect that by such stairs as these,\" thus spake\nThe teacher, panting like a man forespent,\n\"We must depart from evil so extreme:\"\nThen at a rocky opening issued forth,\nAnd placed me on the brink to sit, next join'd\nWith wary step my side. I raised mine eyes,\nBelieving that I Lucifer should see\nWhere he was lately left, but saw him now\nWith legs help upward. Let the grosser sort,\nWho see not what the point was I had past,\nBethink them if sore toil oppress'd me then.\n\n\"Arise,\" my master cried, \"upon thy feet.\nThe way is long, and much uncouth the road;\nAnd now within one hour and a half of noon[2]\nThe sun returns.\" It was no palace - hall\n\n[2: The Poet uses the Hebrew manner of computing the day, according\nto which the third hour answers to our twelve o'clock at noon.]\n\nLofty and luminous wherein we stood,\nBut natural dungeon where ill - footing was\nAnd scant supply of light. \"Ere from the abyss\nI separate,\" thus when risen I began:\n\"My guide! vouchsafe few words to set me free\nFrom error's thraldom. Where is now the ice?\nHow standeth he in posture thus reversed?\nAnd how from eve to morn in space so brief\nHath the sun made his transit?\" He in few\nThus answering spake: \"Thou deemest thou art still\nOn the other side the centre, where I grasp'd\nThe abhorred worm that boreth through the world.\nThou wast on the other side, so long as I\nDescended; when I turn'd, thou didst o'erpass\nThat point, to which from every part is dragg'd\nAll heavy substance. Thou art now arrived\nUnder the hemisphere opposed to that,\nWhich the great continent doth overspread,\nAnd underneath whose canopy expired\nThe Man, that was born sinless and so lived.\nThy feet are planted on the smallest sphere,\nWhose other aspect is Judecca. Morn\nHere rises, when there evening sets: and he,\nWhose shaggy pile we scaled, yet standeth fix'd,\nAs at the first. On this part he fell down\nFrom Heaven; and th' earth here prominent before,\nThrough fear of him did veil her with the sea,\nAnd to our hemisphere retired. Perchance,\nTo shun him, was the vacant space left here,\nBy what of firm land on this side appears,[3]\nThat sprang aloof.\" There is a place beneath,\nFrom Belzebub as distant, as extends\nThe vaulted tomb;[4] discover'd not by sight,\nBut by the sound of brooklet, that descends\nThis way along the hollow of a rock,\nWhich, as it winds with no precipitous course,\nThe wave hath eaten. By that hidden way\nMy guide and I did enter, to return\n\n[3: The mountain of Purgatory.]\n\n[4: \"The vaulted tomb\" (\"La tomba\"). This word is used to express the\nwhole depth of the infernal region.]\n\nTo the fair world: and heedless of repose\nWe climb'd, he first, I following his steps,\nTill on our view the beautiful lights of Heaven\nDawn'd through a circular opening in the cave:\nThence issuing we again beheld the stars.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 1\n\n\nCanto I\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet describes the delight he experienced at issuing a little before\ndawn from the infernal regions, into the pure air that surrounds the isle of\nPurgatory; and then relates how, turning to the right, he beheld four stars\nnever seen before, but by our first parents, and met on his left the shade of\nCato of Utica, who, having warned him and Virgil what is needful to be done\nbefore they proceed on their way through Purgatory, disappears; and the two\npoets go toward the shore, where Virgil cleanses Dante's face with the dew,\nand girds him with a reed, as Cato had commanded.\n\nO'er better waves to speed her rapid course\nThe light bark of my genius lifts the sail,\nWell pleased to leave so cruel sea behind;\nAnd of that second region will I sing,\nIn which the human spirit from sinful blot\nIs purged, and for ascent to Heaven prepares.\n\nHere, O ye hallow'd Nine! for in your train\nI follow, here the deaden'd strain revive;\nNor let Calliope refuse to sound\nA somewhat higher song, of that loud tone\nWhich when the wretched birds of chattering note[1]\nHad heard, they of forgiveness lost all hope.\n\n[1: Birds oa chattering note.\" For the fable of the daughters of\nPierus who challenged the muses to sing, and were by them changed into\nmagpies, see Ovid, Met. lib. v. fab. 5.]\n\nSweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread\nO'er the serene aspect of the pure air,\nHigh up as the first circle,[2] to mine eyes\nUnwonted joy renew'd, soon as I 'scaped\nForth from the atmosphere of deadly gloom,\nThat had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief.\nThe radiant planet,[3] that to love invites,\nMade all the orient laugh, and veil'd beneath\nThe Pisces' light,[4] that in his [her] escort came.\n\n[2: \"The first circle.\" Either, as some suppose, the moon; or, as\nLombardi (who likes to be as far off the rest of the commentators as possible)\nwill have it, the highest circle of the stars.]\n\n[3: \"Planet.\" Venus.]\n\n[4: The constellation of the Fish veiled by the more luminous body of\nVenus, then a morning star.]\n\nTo the right hand I turn'd, and fix'd my mind\nOn the other pole attentive, where I saw\nFour stars[5] ne'er seen before save by the ken\nOf our first parents.[6] Heaven of their rays\nSeem'd joyous. O thou northern site! bereft\nIndeed, and widow'd, since of these deprived.\n\n[5: Symbolical of the four cardinal virtues, Prudence, Justice,\nFortitude, and Temperance.]\n\n[6: \"Our first parents.\" In the terrestrial paradise, placed on the\nsummit of Purgatory.]\n\nAs from this view I had desisted, straight\nTurning a little toward the other pole,\nThere from whence now the wain[7] had disappear'd,\nI saw an old man[8] standing by my side\nAlone, so worthy of reverence in his look,\nThat ne'er from son to father more was owed.\nLow down his beard, and mix'd with hoary white,\nDescended, like his locks, which, parting, fell\nUpon his breast in double fold. The beams\nOf those four luminaries on his face\nSo brightly shone, and with such radiance clear\nDeck'd it, that I beheld him as the sun.\n\n[7: Charles' Wain, or Bootes.]\n\n[8: \"An old man.\" Cato.]\n\n\"Say who are ye, that stemming the blind stream,\nForth from the eternal prison - house have fled?\"\nHe spoke and moved those venerable plumes.\n\"Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure\nLights you emerging from the depth of night,\nThat makes the infernal valley ever black?\nAre the firm statutes of the dread abyss\nBroken, or in high Heaven new laws ordain'd,\nThat thus, condemn'd, ye to my caves approach?\"\n\nMy guide, then laying hold on me, by words\nAnd intimations given with hand and head,\nMade my bent knees and eye submissive pay\nDue reverence; then thus to him replied:\n\n\"Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven[9]\nDescending, him besought me in my charge\nTo bring. But since thy will implies, that more\nOur true condition I unfold at large,\nMine is not to deny thee thy request.\n\n[9: Beatrice. See Hell, ii. 54.]\n\nThis mortal ne'er hath seen the farthest gloom;\nBut erring by his folly had approach'd\nSo near, that little space was left to turn.\nThen, as before I told, I was despatch'd\nTo work his rescue; and no way remain'd\nSave this which I have ta'en. I have display'd\nBefore him all the regions of the bad;\nAnd purpose now those spirits to display,\nThat under thy command are purged from sin.\nHow I have brought him would be long to say.\nFrom high descends the virtue, by whose aid\nI to thy sight and hearing him have led.\nNow may our coming please thee. In the search\nOf liberty he journeys: that how dear,\nThey know who for her sake have life refused.\nThou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet\nIn Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds,\nThat in the last great day will shine so bright.\nFor us the eternal edicts are unmoved;\nHe breathes, and I of Minos am not bound,\nAbiding in that circle, where the eyes\nOf thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look\nPrays thee, O hallow'd spirit! to own her thine.\nThen by her love we implore thee, let us pass\nThrough thy seven regions;[10] for which, best thanks\nI for thy favour will to her return,\nIf mention there below thou not disdain.\"\n\n[10: \"Through thy seven regions.\" The seven rounds of Purgatory, in\nwhich the seven capital sins are punished.]\n\n\"Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,\"\nHe then to him rejoin'd, \"while I was there,\nThat all she ask'd me I was fain to grant.\nNow that beyond the accursed stream she dwells,\nShe may no longer move me, by that law,[11]\nWhich was ordain'd me, when I issued thence.\nNot so, if Dame from Heaven, as thou sayst,\nMoves and directs thee; then no flattery needs.\nEnough for me that in her name thou ask.\n\n[11: \"By that law.\" When he was delivered by Christ from Limbo, a\nchange of affections accompanied his change of place.]\n\nGo therefore now: and with a slender reed[12]\nSee that thou duly gird him, and his face\nLave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence.\nFor not with eye, by any cloud obscured,\nWould it be seemly before him to come,\nWho stands the foremost minister in Heaven.\nThis islet all around, there far beneath,\nWhere the wave beats it, on the oozy bed\nProduces store of reeds. No other plant,\nCover'd with leaves, or harden'd in its stalk,\nThere lives, not bending to the water's sway.\nAfter, this way return not; but the sun\nWill show you, that now rises, where to take\nThe mountain in its easiest ascent.\"\n\n[12: A type of simplicity and patience.]\n\nHe disappear'd; and I myself upraised\nSpeechless, and to my guide retiring close,\nToward him turn'd mine eyes. He thus began:\n\"My son! observant thou my steps pursue.\nWe must retreat to rereward; for that way\nThe champain to its low extreme declines.\"\n\nThe dawn had chased the matin hour of prime,\nWhich fled before it, so that from afar\nI spied the trembling of the ocean stream.\n\nWe traversed the deserted plain, as one\nWho, wander'd from his track, thinks every step\nTrodden in vain till he regain the path.\n\nWhen we had come, where yet the tender dew\nStrove with the sun, and in a place where fresh\nThe wind breathed o'er it, while it slowly dried;\nBoth hands extended on the watery grass\nMy master placed, in graceful act and kind.\nWhence I of his intent before apprised,\nStretch'd out to him my cheeks suffused with tears.\nThere to my visage he anew restored\nThat hue which the dun shades of Hell conceal'd.\n\nThen on the solitary shore arrived,\nThat never sailing on its waters saw\nMan that could after measure back his course,\nHe girt me in such manner as had pleased\n\nHim who instructed; and, oh strange to tell!\nAs he selected every humble plant,\nWherever one was pluck'd another there\nResembling, straightway in its place arose.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 2\n\n\nCanto II\n\nArgument\n\nThey behold a vessel under conduct of an angel, coming over the waves\nwith spirits to Purgatory, among whom, when the passengers have landed, Dante\nrecognizes his friend Casella; but, while they are entertained by him with a\nsong, they hear Cato exclaiming against their negligent loitering, and at that\nrebuke hasten forward to the mountain.\n\nNow had the sun[1] to that horizon reach'd,\nThat covers, with the most exalted point\nOf its meridian circle, Salem's walls;\nAnd night, that opposite to him her orb\nRounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth,\nHolding the scales,[2] that from her hands are dropt\nWhen she reigns highest:[3] so that where I was,\nAurora's white and vermeil - tinctured cheek\nTo orange turn'd as she in age increased.\n\n[1: \"Now had the sun.\" Dante was now antipodal to Jerusalem; so that\nwhile the sun was setting with respect to that place, which he supposes to be\nthe middle of the inhabited earth, to him it was rising.]\n\n[2: The constellation Libra.]\n\n[3: \"When she reigns highest\" is (according to Venturi, whom I have\nfollowed) \"when the autumnal equinox is passed.\" Lombardi supposes it to mean\n\"when the nights begin to increase, that is, after the summer solstice.\"]\n\nMeanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink,\nLike men, who, musing on their road, in thought\nJourney, while motionless the body rests.\nWhen lo! as, near upon the hour of dawn,\nThrough the thick vapors Mars with fiery beam\nGlares down in west, over the ocean floor;\nSo seem'd, what once again I hope to view,\nA light, so swiftly coming through the sea,\nNo winged course might equal its career.\nFrom which when for a space I had withdrawn\nMine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide,\nAgain I look'd, and saw it grown in size\nAnd brightness: then on either side appear'd\nSomething, but what I knew not, of bright hue,\n\nAnd by degrees from underneath it came\nAnother. My preceptor silent yet\nStood, while the brightness, that we first discern'd,\nOpen'd the form of wings: then when he knew\nThe pilot, cried aloud, \"Down, down; bend low\nThy knees; behold God's angel: fold thy hands:\nNow shalt thou see true ministers indeed.\nLo! how all human means he sets at naught;\nSo that nor oar he needs, nor other sail\nExcept his wings, between such distant shores.\nLo! how straight up to Heaven he holds them rear'd,\nWinnowing the air with these eternal plumes,\nThat not like mortal hairs fall off or change.\"\n\nAs more and more toward us came, more bright\nAppear'd the bird of God, nor could the eye\nEndure his splendor near: I mine bent down.\nHe drove ashore in a small bark so swift\nAnd light, that in its course no wave it drank.\nThe heavenly steersman at the prow was seen,\nVisibly written Blessed in his looks.\nWithin a hundred spirits and more there sat.\n\n\"In Exitu[4] Israel de Egypto,\"\nAll with one voice together sang, with what\nIn the remainder of that hymn is writ.\nThen soon as with the sign of holy cross\nHe bless'd them, they at once leap'd out on land:\nHe, swiftly as he came, return'd. The crew,\nThere left, appear'd astounded with the place,\nGazing around, as one who sees new sights.\n\n[4: \"In Exitu.\" \"When Israel came out of Egypt.\" Ps. cxiv.]\n\nFrom every side the sun darted his beams,\nAnd with his arrowy radiance from mid heaven\nHad chased the Capricorn, when that strange tribe,\nLifting their eyes toward us: \"If ye know,\nDeclare what path will lead us to the mount.\"\n\nThem Virgil answer'd: \"Ye suppose, perchance,\nUs well acquainted with this place: but here,\nWe, as yourselves, are strangers. Not long erst\nWe came, before you but a little space,\nBy other road so rough and hard, that now\n\nThe ascent will seem to us as play.\" The spirits,\nWho from my breathing had perceived I lived,\nGrew pale with wonder. As the multitude\nFlock round a herald sent with olive branch,\nTo hear what news he brings, and in their haste\nTread one another down; e'en so at sight\nOf me those happy spirits were fix'd, each one\nForgetful of its errand to depart\nWhere, cleansed from sin, it might be made all fair.\n\nThen one I saw darting before the rest\nWith such fond ardour to embrace me, I\nTo do the like was moved. O shadows vain!\nExcept in outward semblance: thrice my hands\nI clasp'd behind it, they as oft return'd\nEmpty into my breast again. Surprise\nI need must think was painted in my looks,\nFor that the shadow smiled and backward drew.\nTo follow it I hasten'd, but with voice\nOf sweetness it enjoin'd me to desist.\nThen who it was I knew, and pray'd of it,\nTo talk with me it would a little pause.\nIt answer'd: \"Thee as in my mortal frame\nI loved, so loosed from it I love thee still,\nAnd therefore pause: but why walkest thou here?\"\n\n\"Not without purpose once more to return,\nThou find'st me, my Casella,[5] where I am,\nJourneying this way;\" I said: \"but how of thee\nHath so much time been lost?\" He answer'd straight:\n\n[5: \"My Casella.\" A Florentine, celebrated for his skill in music,\n\"in whose company, says Landino, \"Dante often recreated his spirits, wearied\nby severer studies,\" See Dr. Burney's History of Music, vol. ii. cap. iv., p.\n322. See also Milton's sonnet to Henry Lawes: \"Dante shall give fame leave to\nset thee higher Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing, Met in the milder\nshades of Purgatory.\"]\n\n\"No outrage hath been done to me, if he,[6]\nWho when and whom he chooses takes, hath oft\nDenied me passage here; since of just will\nHis will he makes. These three months past[7] indeed,\nHe, who so chose to enter, with free leave\n\n[6: \"He.\" The conducting angel.]\n\n[7: \"These three months past.\" Since the time of the Jubilee, during\nwhich all spirits not condemned to eternal punishment were supposed to pass\nover to Purgatory as soon as they pleased.]\n\nHath taken; whence I wandering by the shore[8]\nWhere Tiber's wave grows salt, of him gain'd kind\nAdmittance, at that river's mouth, toward which\nHis wings are pointed; for there always throng\nAll such as not to Acheron descend.\"\n\n[8: \"The shore.\" Ostia.]\n\nThen I: \"If new law taketh not from thee\nMemory or custom of love - tuned song,\nThat whilom all my cares had power to 'swage;\nPlease thee therewith a little to console\nMy spirit, that encumber'd with its frame,\nTravelling so far, of pain is overcome.\"\n\n\"Love, that discourses in my thoughts,\" he then\nBegan in such soft accents, that within\nThe sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide,\nAnd all who came with him, so well were pleased,\nThat seem'd naught else might in their thoughts have room.\n\nFast fix'd in mute attention to his notes\nWe stood, when lo! that old man venerable\nExclaiming, \"How is this, ye tardy spirits?\nWhat negligence detains you loitering here?\nRun to the mountain to cast off those scales,\nThat from your eyes the sight of God conceal.\"\n\nAs a wild flock of pigeons, to their food\nCollected, blade or tares, without their pride\nAccustom'd, and in still and quiet sort,\nIf aught alarm them, suddenly desert\nTheir meal, assail'd by more important care;\nSo I that new - come troop beheld, the song\nDeserting, hasten to the mountain's side,\nAs one who goes, yet, where he tends, knows not.\n\nNor with less hurried step did we depart.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 3\n\n\nCanto III\n\nArgument\n\nOur Poet, perceiving no shadow except that cast by his own body, is\nfearful that Virgil has deserted him; but he is freed from that error, and\nboth arrive together at the foot of the mountain; on finding it too steep to\nclimb, they inquire the way from a troop of spirits that are coming toward\nthem, and are by them shown which is the easiest ascent. Manfredi, King of\nNaples, who is one of these spirits, bids Dante inform his daughter Costanza,\nQueen of Arragon, of the manner in which he had died.\n\nThem sudden flight had scatter'd o'er the plain,\nTurn'd toward the mountain, whither reason's voice\nDrives us: I, to my faithful company\nAdhering, left it not. For how, of him\nDeprived, might I have sped? or who, beside,\nWould o'er the mountainous tract have led my steps?\nHe, with the bitter pang of self - remorse,\nSeem'd smitten. O clear conscience, and upright!\nHow doth a little failing wound thee sore.\n\nSoon as his feet desisted (slackening pace)\nFrom haste, that mars all decency of act,\nMy mind, that in itself before was wrapt,\nIts thought expanded, as with joy restored;\nAnd full against the steep ascent I set\nMy face, where highest to Heaven its top o'erflows.\n\nThe sun, that flared behind, with ruddy beam\nBefore my form was broken; for in me\nHis rays resistance met. I turn'd aside\nWith fear of being left, when I beheld\nOnly before myself the ground obscured.\nWhen thus my solace, turning him around,\nBespake me kindly: \"Why distrustest thou?\nBelievest not I am with thee, thy sure guide?\nIt now is evening there, where buried lies\nThe body in which I cast a shade, removed\nTo Naples[1] from Brundusium's wall. Nor thou\nMarvel, if before me no shadow fall,\nMore than that in the skyey element\nOne ray obstructs not other. To endure\nTorments of heat and cold extreme, like frames\n\n[1: \"To Naples.\" Virgil died at Brundusium, from whence his body is\nsaid to have been removed to Naples.]\n\nThat virtue hath disposed, which, how it works,\nWills not to us should be reveal'd. Insane,\nWho hopes our reason may that space explore,\nWhich holds three persons in one substance knit.\nSeek not the wherefore, race of human kind;\n\nCould ye have seen the whole, no need had been\nFor Mary to bring forth. Moreover, ye\nHave seen such men desiring fruitlessly;\nTo whose desires, repose would have been given,\nThat now but serve them for eternal grief.\nI speak of Plato, and the Stagirite,\nAnd others many more.\" And then he bent\nDownward his forehead, and in troubled mood\nBroke off his speech. Meanwhile we had arrived\nFar as the mountain's foot, and there the rock\nFound of so steep ascent, that nimblest steps\nTo climb it had been vain. The most remote,\nMost wild, untrodden path, in all the tract\n'Twixt Lerice and Turbia,[2] were to this\nA ladder easy and open of access.\n\n[2: \"Twixt Lerice and Turbia.\" At that time the two extremities of\nthe Genoese republic; the former on the east, the latter on the west.]\n\n\"Who knows on which hand now the steep declines?\"\nMy master said, and paused; \"so that he may\nAscend, who journeys without aid of wing?\"\nAnd while, with looks directed to the ground,\nThe meaning of the pathway he explored,\nAnd I gazed upward round the stony height;\nOn the left hand appear'd to us a troop\nOf spirits, that toward us moved their steps;\nYet moving seem'd not, they so slow approach'd.\n\nI thus my guide address'd: \"Upraise thine eyes:\nLo! that way some, of whom thou mayst obtain\nCounsel, if of thyself thou find'st it not.\"\n\nStraightway he look'd, and with free speech replied:\n\"Let us tend thither: they but softly come.\nAnd thou be firm in hope, my son beloved.\"\n\nNow was that crowd from us distant as far,\n(When we some thousand steps, I say, had past,)\nAs at a throw the nervous arm could fling;\n\nWhen all drew backward on the massy crags\nOf the steep bank, and firmly stood unmoved,\nAs one, who walks in doubt, might stand to look.\n\n\"O spirits perfect! O already chosen!\"\nVirgil to them began: \"by that blest peace,\nWhich, as I deem, is for you all prepared,\nInstruct us where the mountain low declines,\nSo that attempt to mount it be not vain.\nFor who knows most, him loss of time most grieves.\"\n\nAs sheep, that step from forth their fold, by one,\nOr pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest\nStand fearfully, bending the eye and nose\nTo ground, and what the foremost does, that do\nThe others, gathering round her if she stops,\nSimple and quiet, nor the cause discern;\nSo saw I moving to advance the first,\nWho of that fortunate crew were at the head,\nOf modest mien, and graceful in their gait.\nWhen they before me had beheld the light\nFrom my right side fall broken on the ground,\nSo that the shadow reach'd the cave; they stopp'd,\nAnd somewhat back retired: the same did all\nWho follow'd though unweeting of the cause.\n\n\"Unask'd of you, yet freely I confess,\nThis is a human body which ye see.\nThat the sun's light is broken on the ground,\nMarvel not; but believe, that not without\nVirtue derived from Heaven, we to climb\nOver this wall aspire.\" So them bespake\nMy master; and that virtuous tribe rejoin'd:\n\"Turn, and before you there the entrance lies;\"\nMaking a signal to us with bent hands.\n\nThen of them one began. \"Whoe'er thou art,\nWho journey'st thus this way, thy visage turn;\nThink if me elsewhere thou hast ever seen.\"\n\nI toward him turn'd, and with fix'd eye beheld.\nComely and fair, and gentle of aspect\nHe seem'd, but on one brow a gash was mark'd.\n\nWhen humbly I disclaim'd to have beheld\nHim ever: \"Now behold!\" he said, and show'd\nHigh on his breast a wound: then smiling spake.\n\n\"I am Manfredi,[3] grandson to the Queen\nCostanza:[4] whence I pray thee, when return'd,\nTo my fair daughter[5] go, the parent glad\nOf Aragonia and Sicilia's pride;\nAnd of the truth inform her, if of me\nAught else be told. When by two mortal blows\nMy frame was shatter'd, I betook myself\nWeeping to Him, who of free will forgives.\nMy sins were horrible: but so wide arms\nHath goodness infinite, that it receives\nAll who turn to it. Had this text divine\nBeen of Cosenza's shepherd better scann'd,\nWho then by Clement[6] on my hunt was set,\nYet at the bridge's head my bones had lain,\nNear Benevento, by the heavy mole\nProtected; but the rain now drenches them,\nAnd the wind drives, out of the kingdom's bounds,\nFar as the stream of Verde,[7] where, with lights\nExtinguish'd, he removed them from their bed.\nYet by their curse we are not so destroy'd,\nBut that the eternal love may turn, while hope\nRetains her verdant blossom. True it is,\nThat such one as in contumacy dies\n\n[3: \"Manfredi.\" King of Naples and Sicily, and the natural son of\nFrederick II. He was lively and agreeable in his manners, delighted in poetry,\nmusic, and dancing. But he was luxurious and ambitious, void of religion, and\nin his philosophy an Epicurean. He fell in the battle with Charles of Anjou in\n1265, alluded to in Canto xxviii of Hell, ver. 13, or rather in that of\nBenevento. The successes of Charles were so rapidly followed up, that our\nauthor, exact as he generally is, might not have thought it necessary to\ndistinguish them in point of time. \"Dying excommunicated, King Charles did not\nallow of his being buried in sacred ground, but he was interred near the\nbridge of Benevento; and on his grave there was cast a stone by every one of\nthe army, whence there was formed a great mound of stones. But some have said,\nthat afterward, by command of the Pope, the Bishop of Cosenza took up his body\nand sent it out of the kingdom, because it was the land of the Church; and\nthat it was buried by the river Verde, on the borders of the kingdom and of\nCampagna.\"]\n\n[4: See Paradise, Canto iii. 121.]\n\n[5: Costanza, the daughter of Manfredi, and wife of Peter III, King\nof Arragon, by whom she was mother to Frederick, King of Sicily, and James,\nKing of Arragon. With the latter of these she was at Rome, 1296.]\n\n[6: \"Clement.\" Pope Clement IV.]\n\n[7: \"The stream of Verde.\" A river near Ascoli, that falls into the\nTronto. The \"extinguished lights\" formed part of the ceremony at the interment\nof one excommunicated.]\n\nAgainst the holy Church, though he repent,\nMust wander thirty - fold for all the time\nIn his presumption past: if such decree\nBe not by prayers of good men shorter made.\nLook therefore if thou canst advance my bliss;\nRevealing to my good Costanza, how\nThou hast beheld me, and beside, the terms\nLaid on me of that interdict; for here\nBy means of those below much profit comes.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 4\n\n\nCanto IV\n\nArgument\n\nDante and Virgil ascend the mountain of Purgatory, by a steep and narrow\npath pent in on each side by rock, till they reach a part of it that opens\ninto a ledge or cornice. There seating themselves, and turning to the east,\nDante wonders at seeing the sun on their left, the cause of which is explained\nto him by Virgil; and while they continue their discourse, a voice addresses\nthem, at which they turn, and find several spirits behind the rock, and among\nthe rest one named Belacqua, who had been known to our Poet on earth, and who\ntells that he is doomed to linger there on account of his having delayed his\nrepentance to the last.\n\nWhen by sensations of delight or pain,\nThat any of our faculties hath seized,\nEntire the soul collects herself, it seems\nShe is intent upon that power alone;\nAnd thus the error is disproved, which holds\nThe soul not singly lighted in the breast.\nAnd therefore whenas aught is heard or seen,\nThat firmly keeps the soul toward it turn'd,\nTime passes, and a man perceives it not.\nFor that, whereby we hearken, is one power;\nAnother that, which the whole spirit hath:\nThis is as it were bound, while that is free.\n\nThis found I true by proof, hearing that spirit\nAnd wondering; for full fifty steps[1] aloft\nThe sun had measured, unobserved of me,\nWhen we arrived where all with one accord\nThe spirits shouted, \"Here is what ye ask.\"\n\n[1: Three hours twenty minutes; fifteen degrees being reckoned to an\nhour.]\n\nA larger aperture oft - times is stopt,\nWith forked stake of thorn by villager,\nWhen the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,\n\nBy which my guide, and I behind him close,\nAscended solitary, when that troop\nDeparting left us. On Sanleo's[2] road\nWho journeys, or to Noli[3] low descends,\nOr mounts Bismantua's[4] height, must use his feet;\nBat here a man had need to fly, I mean\nWith the swift wing and plumes of high desire,\nConducted by his aid, who gave me hope,\nAnd with light furnish'd to direct my way.\n\n[2: \"Sanleo.\" A fortress on the summit of Montefeltro. The situation\nis described by Troya, Veltro Allegorico, p. 11. It is a conspicuous object to\ntravellers along the cornice on the Riviera di Genoa.]\n\n[3: \"Noli\". In the Genoese territory, between Finale and Savona.]\n\n[4: \"Bismantua.\" A steep mountain in the territory of Reggio.]\n\nWe through the broken rock ascended, close\nPent on each side, while underneath the ground\nAsk'd help of hands and feet. When we arrived\nNear on the highest ridge of the steep bank,\nWhere the plain level open'd, I exclaim'd,\n\"O Master! say, which way can we proceed.\"\n\nHe answer'd, \"Let no step of thine recede.\nBehind me gain the mountain, till to us\nSome practised guide appear.\" That eminence\nWas lofty, that no eye might reach its point;\nAnd the side proudly rising, more than line\nFrom the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.\nI, wearied, thus began: \"Parent beloved!\nTurn and behold how I remain alone,\nIf thou stay not.\" - \"My son!\" he straight replied,\n\"Thus far put forth thy strength;\" and to a track\nPointed, that, on this side projecting, round\nCircles the hill. His words so spurr'd me on,\nThat I, behind him, clambering, forced myself,\nTill my feet press'd the circuit plain beneath.\nThere both together seated, turn'd we round\nTo eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft\nMany beside have with delight look'd back.\n\nFirst on the nether shores I turn'd mine eyes,\nThen raised them to the sun, and wondering mark'd\nThat from the left it smote us. Soon perceived\nThat poet sage, how at the car of light\n\nAmazed[5] I stood, where 'twixt us and the north\nIts course it enter'd. Whence he thus to me:\n\"Were Leda's offspring[6] now in company\nOf that broad mirror, that high up and low\nImparts his light beneath, thou mightst behold\nThe ruddy Zodiac nearer to the Bears\nWheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.\nHow that may be, if thou wouldst think; within\nPondering, imagine Sion with this mount\nPlaced on the earth, so that to both be one\nHorizon, and two hemispheres apart,\nWhere lies the path[7] that Phaeton ill knew\nTo guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see[8]\nHow of necessity by this, on one,\nHe passes, while by that on the other side;\nIf with clear view thine intellect attend.\"\n\n[5: \"Amazed.\" He wonders that being turned to the east he should see\nthe sun on his left, since in all the regions on this side of the tropic of\nCancer it is seen on the right of one who turns his face toward the east; not\nrecollecting that he was now antipodal to Europe, from whence he had seen the\nsun taking an opposite course.]\n\n[6: \"As the constellation of the Gemini is nearer the Bears than\nAries is, it is certain that if the sun, instead of being in Aries, had been\nin Gemini, both the sun and that portion of the Zodiac made 'ruddy' by the\nsun, would have been seen to 'wheel nearer to the Bears,' By the 'ruddy\nZodiac' must necessarily be understood that portion of the Zodiac affected or\nmade red by the sun; for the whole of the Zodiac never changes, nor appears to\nchange, with respect to the remainder of the heavens.\" - Lombardi.]\n\n[7: \"The path.\" The ecliptic.]\n\n[8: \"Thou, wilt see.\" \"If you consider that this mountain of\nPurgatory, and that of Sion, are antipodal to each other, you will perceive\nthat the sun must rise on opposite sides of the respective eminences.\"]\n\n\"Of truth, kind teacher! I exclaim'd, \"so clear\nAught saw I never, as I now discern,\nWhere seem'd my ken to fail, that the mid orb[9]\nOf the supernal motion (which in terms\nOf art is call'd the Equator, and remains\nStill 'twixt the sun and winter) for the cause\nThou hast assign'd, from hence toward the north\nDeparts, when those, who in the Hebrew land\nWere dwellers, saw it towards the warmer part.\nBut if it please thee, I would gladly know,\n\n[9: \"That the mid orb.\" \"That the equator (which is always situated\nbetween that part where, when the sun is, he causes summer, and the other\nwhere his absence produces winter) recedes from this mountain toward the\nnorth, at the time when the Jews inhabiting Mount Sion saw it depart toward\nthe south.\" - Lombardi.]\n\nHow far we have to journey: for the hill\nMounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount.\"\n\nHe thus to me: \"Such is this steep ascent,\nThat it is ever difficult at first,\nBut more a man proceeds, less evil grows.[10]\nWhen pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much\nThat upward going shall be easy to thee\nAs in a vessel to go down the tide,\nThen of this path thou wilt have reach'd the end.\nThere hope to rest thee from thy toil. No more\nI answer, and thus far from certain know.\"\nAs he his words had spoken, near to us\nA voice there sounded: \"Yet ye first perchance\nMay to repose you by constraint be led.\"\nAt sound thereof each turn'd; and on the left\nA huge stone we beheld, of which nor I\nNor he before was ware. Thither we drew;\nAnd there were some, who in the shady place\nBehind the rock were standing, as a man\nThrough idleness might stand. Among them one,\nWho seem'd to be much wearied, sat him down,\nAnd with his arms did fold his knees about,\nHolding his face between them downward bent.\n\n[10: Because in ascending he gets rid of the weight of his sins.]\n\n\"Sweet Sir!\" I cried, \"behold that man who shows\nHimself more idle than if laziness\nWere sister to him.\" Straight he turn'd to us,\nAnd, o'er the thigh lifting his face, observed,\nThen in these accents spake: \"Up then, proceed,\nThou valiant one.\" Straight who it was I knew;\nNor could the pain I felt (for want of breath\nStill somewhat urged me) hinder my approach.\nAnd when I came to him, he scarce his head\nUplifted, saying, \"Well has thou discern'd,\nHow from the left the sun his chariot leads?\"\n\nHis lazy acts and broken words my lips\nTo laughter somewhat moved; when I began:\n\"Belacqua,[11] now for thee I grieve no more.\n\n[11: In the margin of the Monte Casino Ms. there is found this brief\nnotice: \"This Belacqua was an excellent master of the harp and lute, but very\nnegligent in his affairs both spiritual and temporal.\"]\n\nBut tell, why thou art seated upright there.\nWaitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?\nOr blame I only thine accustom'd ways?\"\nThen he: \"My brother! of what use to mount,\nWhen, to my suffering, would not let me pass\nThe bird of God, who at the portal sits?\nBehoves so long that Heaven first bear me round\nWithout its limits, as in life it bore;\nBecause I, to the end, repentant sighs\nDelay'd; if prayer do not aid me first,\nThat riseth up from heart which lives in grace.\nWhat other kind avails, not heard in Heaven?\"\n\nBefore me now the poet, up the mount\nAscending, cried: \"Haste thee: for see the sun\nHas touch'd the point meridian; and the night\nNow covers with her foot Marocco's shore.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 5\n\n\nCanto V\n\nArgument\n\nThey meet with others, who had deferred their repentance till overtaken\nby a violent death, when sufficient space being allowed them, they were then\nsaved; and among these, Giacopo del Cassero, Buonconte da Montefeltro, and\nPia, a lady of Siena.\n\nNow had I left those spirits, and pursued\nThe steps of my conductor; when behind,\nPointing the finger at me, one exclaim'd:\n\"See, how it seems as if the light not shone\nFrom the left hand[1] of him beneath,[2] and he,\nAs living, seems to be led on.\" Mine eyes,\nI at that sound reverting, saw them gaze,\nThrough wonder, first at me; and then at me\nAnd the light broken underneath, by turns.\n\"Why are thy thoughts thus riveted,\" my guide\nExclaim'd, \"that thou hast slack'd thy pace? or how\nImports it thee, what thing is whisper'd here?\nCome after me, and to their babblings leave\n\n[1: The sun was, therefore, on the right of our travellers. For, as\nbefore, when seated and looking to the east whence they had ascended, the sun\nwas on their left; so now that they are again going forward, it must be on the\nopposite side of them.]\n\n[2: Of Dante, following Virgil.]\n\nThe crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set,\nShakes not its top for any blast that blows.\nHe, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out,\nStill of his aim is wide, in that the one\nSicklies and wastes to naught the other's strength.\"\n\nWhat other could I answer, save \"I come\"?\nI said it, somewhat with that color tinged,\nWhich oft - times pardon meriteth for man.\n\nMeanwhile traverse along the hill there came,\nA little way before us, some who sang\nThe \"Miserere\" in responsive strains.\nWhen they perceived that through my body I\nGave way not for the rays to pass, their song\nStraight to a long and hoarse exclaim they changed;\nAnd two of them, in guise of messengers,\nRan on to meet us, and inquiring ask'd:\n\"Of your condition we would gladly learn.\"\n\nTo them my guide: \"Ye may return, and bear\nTidings to them who sent you, that his frame\nIs real flesh. If, as I deem, to view\nHis shade they paused, enough is answer'd them:\nHim let them honor: they may prize him well.\"\n\nNe'er saw I fiery vapors with such speed\nCut through the serene air at fall of night,\nNor August's clouds athwart the setting sun,\nThat upward these did not in shorter space\nReturn; and, there arriving, with the rest\nWheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.\n\n\"Many,\" exclaim'd the bard, \"are these, who throng\nAround us: to petition thee, they come.\nGo therefore on, and listen as thou go'st.\"\n\n\"O spirit! who go'st on to blessedness,\nWith the same limbs that clad thee at thy birth,\"\nShouting they came: \"a little rest thy step.\nLook, if thou any one amongst our tribe\nHast e'er beheld, that tidings of him there[3]\nThou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go'st thou on?\nAh, wherefore tarriest thou not? We all\nBy violence died, and to our latest hour\n\n[3: \"There.\" Upon the earth.]\n\nWere sinners, but then warn'd by light from Heaven;\nSo that, repenting and forgiving, we\nDid issue out of life at peace with God,\nWho, with desire to see Him, fills our heart.\"\n\nThen I: \"The visages of all I scan,\nYet none of ye remember. But if aught\nThat I can do may please you, gentle spirits!\nSpeak, and I will perform it; by that peace,\nWhich, on the steps of guide so excellent\nFollowing, from world to world, intent I seek.\"\n\nIn answer he began: \"None here distrusts\nThy kindness, though not promised with an oath;\nSo as the will fail not for want of power.\nWhence I, who sole before the other speak,\nEntreat thee, if thou ever see that land[4]\nWhich lies between Romagna and the realm\nOf Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray\nThose who inhabit Fano, that for me\nTheir adorations duly be put up,\nBy which I may purge off my grievous sins.\nFrom thence I came.[5] But the deep passages,\nWhence issued out the blood[6] wherein I dwelt,\nUpon my bosom in Antenor's land[7]\nWere made, where to be more secure I thought.\nThe author of the deed was Este's prince,\nWho, more than right could warrant, with his wrath\nPursued me. Had I toward Mira fled,\nWhen overta'en at Oriaco, still\nMight I have breathed. But to the marsh I sped;\nAnd in the mire and rushes tangled there\nFell, and beheld my life - blood float the plain.\"\n\n[4: The Marca d' Ancona, between Romagna and Apulia, the kingdom of\nCharles of Anjou.]\n\n[5: Giacopo del Cassero, a citizen of Fano, who having spoken ill of\nAzzo da Este, Marquis of Ferrara, was by his orders put to death. Giacopo was\novertaken by the assassins at Oriaco, near the Brenta, whence, if he had fled\ntoward Mira, higher up on that river, instead of making for the marsh on the\nsea - shore, he might have escaped.]\n\n[6: Supposed to be the seat of life.]\n\n[7: Padua, said to be founded by Antenor. This implies a reflection\non the Paduans. See Hell, xxxii. 89.]\n\nThen said another: \"Ah! so may the wish,\nThat takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd,\nAs thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.\n\nOf Montefeltro I;[8] Buonconte I:\nGiovanna[9] nor none else have care for me;\nSorrowing with these I therefore go.\" I thus:\n\"From Campaldino's field what force or chance\nDrew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?\"\n\n[8: Buonconte, son of Guido da Montefeltro (see also the twenty -\nseventh canto of Hell), fell in the battle of Campaldino (1289), fighting on\nthe side of the Aretini. In this engagement our Poet took a distinguished\npart.]\n\n[9: Wife or kinswoman of Buonconte.]\n\n\"Oh!\" answer'd he, \"at Casentino's foot\nA stream there courseth, named Archiano, sprung\nIn Apennine above the hermit's seat.[10]\nE'en where its name is cancel'd,[11] there came I,\nPierced in the throat, fleeing away on foot,\nAnd bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech\nFail'd me; and, finishing with Mary's name,\nI fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd.\nI will report the truth; which thou again\nTell to the living. Me God's angel took,\nWhilst he of Hell exclaim'd: 'O thou from Heaven!\nSay wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of him\nThe eternal portion bear'st with thee away,\nFor one poor tear that he deprives me of.\nBut of the other, other rule I make.'\n\n[10: The hermitage of Camaldoli.]\n\n[11: Between Bibbiena and Poppi, where the Archiano joins the Arno.]\n\n\"Thou know'st how in the atmosphere collects\nThat vapour dank, returning into water\nSoon as it mounts where cold condenses it.\nThat evil will,[12] which in his intellect\nStill follows evil, came; and raised the wind\nAnd smoky mist, by virtue of the power\nGiven by his nature. Thence the valley, soon\nAs day was spent, he cover'd o'er with cloud,\nFrom Pratomagno to the mountain range;[13]\nAnd stretch'd the sky above; so that the air\nImpregnate changed to water. Fell the rain;\nAnd to the fosses came all that the land\n\n[12: The Devil. This notion of the Evil Spirit having power over the\nelements, appears to have arisen from his being termed the \"prince of the\nair,\" in the New Testament.]\n\n[13: From Pratomagno, now called Prato Vecchio (which divides the\nValdarno from Casentino), as far as to the Apennines.]\n\nContain'd not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,\nTo the great river, with such headlong sweep,\nRush'd, that naught stay'd its course. My stiffen'd frame\nLaid at his mouth, the fell Archiano found,\nAnd dashed it into Arno; from my breast\nLoosening the cross, that of myself I made\nWhen overcome with pain. He hurl'd me on,\nAlong the banks and bottom of his course;\nThen in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt.\"\n\n\"Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return'd,\nAnd rested after thy long road,\" so spake\nNext the third spirit; \"then remember me.\nI once was Pia.[14] Sienna gave me life;\nMaremma took it from me. That he knows,\nWho me with jewel'd ring had first espoused.\"\n\n[14: \"Pia\" She is said to have been a Siennese lady, of the family of\nTolommei, secretly made away with by her husband, Nello della Pietra, of the\nsame city, in Maremma, where he had some possessions.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 6\n\n\nCanto VI\n\nArgument\n\nMany besides, who are in like case with those spoken of in the last\nCanto, beseech our Poet to obtain for them the prayers of their friends, when\nhe shall be returned to this world. This moves him to express a doubt to his\nguide, how the dead can be profited by the prayers of the living; for the\nsolution of which doubt he is referred to Beatrice. Afterward he meets with\nSordello the Mantuan, whose affection, shown to Virgil his countryman, leads\nDante to break forth into an invective against the unnatural divisions with\nwhich Italy, and more especially Florence, was distracted.\n\nWhen from their game of dice men separate,\nHe who hath lost remains in sadness fix'd,\nRevolving in his mind what luckless throws\nHe cast: but, meanwhile, all the company\nGo with the other; one before him runs,\nAnd one behind his mantle twitches, one\nFast by his side bids him remember him.\nHe stops not; and each one, to whom his hand\nIs stretch'd, well knows he bids him stand aside;\nAnd thus[1] he from the press defends himself.\nE'en such was I in that close - crowding throng;\n\n[1: \"And thus.\" It was usual for money to be given to bystanders at\nplay by winners.]\n\nAnd turning so my face around to all,\nAnd promising, I 'scaped from it with pains.\n\nHere of Arezzo him[2] I saw, who fell\nBy Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside,[3]\nWho in his chase was swallow'd by the stream.\nHere Frederic Novello,[4] with his hand\nStretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he,[5]\nWho put the good Marzucco to such proof\nOf constancy. Count Orso[6] I beheld;\nAnd from its frame a soul dismiss'd for spite\nAnd envy, as it said, but for no crime;\nI speak of Peter de la Brosse:[7] and here,\nWhile she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant,\nLet her beware; lest for so false a deed\nShe herd with worse than these. When I was freed\nFrom all those spirits, who pray'd for others' prayers\nTo hasten on their state of blessedness;\nStraight I began: \"O thou, my luminary!\nIt seems expressly in thy text denied,\nThat Heaven's supreme decree can ever bend\nTo supplication; yet with this design\nDo these entreat. Can then their hope be vain?\n\n[2: Benincasa of Arezzo, eminent for his skill in jurisprudence, who\nhaving condemned to death Turrino da Turrita, brother of Ghino di Tacco, for\nhis robberies in Maremma, was murdered by Ghino, in an apartment of his own\nhouse, in the presence of many witnesses. Ghino was not only suffered to\nescape in safety, but obtained so high a reputation by the liberality with\nwhich he dispensed the fruits of his plunder, and treated those who fell into\nhis hands with so much courtesy, that he was afterward invited to Rome, and\nknighted by Boniface VIII.]\n\n[3: Cione, or Ciacco de' Tarlatti of Arezzo, carried by his horse\ninto the Arno, and there drowned, while in pursuit of enemies.]\n\n[4: \"Frederic Novello.\" Son of the Conte Guido da Battifolle, and\nslain by one of the family of Bostoli.]\n\n[5: Farinata de' Scornigiani, of Pisa. His father, Marzucco, who had\nentered the order of the Frati Minori, so entirely overcame his resentment,\nthat he even kissed the hands of the slayer of his son, and as he was\nfollowing the funeral, exhorted his kinsmen to reconciliation.]\n\n[6: \"Count Orso.\" Son of Napoleone da Cerbaia, slain by Alberto da\nMangona, his uncle.]\n\n[7: Secretary of Philip III of France. The courtiers envying the high\nplace which he held in the King's favor, prevailed on Mary of Brabant to\ncharge him falsely with an attempt upon her person; for which supposed crime\nhe suffered death. So say the Italian commentators. Henault represents the\nmatter very differently: \"Pierre de la Brosse, formerly barber to St. Louis,\nafterward the favorite of Philip, fearing the too great attachment of the King\nfor his wife Mary, accuses this princess of having poisoned Louis, eldest son\nof Philip, by his first marriage. This calumny is discovered by a nun of\nNivelle, in Flanders. La Brosse is hanged.\"]\n\nOr is thy saying not to me reveal'd?\"\n\nHe thus to me: \"Both what I write is plain,\nAnd these deceived not in their hope; if well\nThy mind consider, that the sacred height\nOf judgment doth not stoop, because love's flame\nIn a short moment all fulfills, which he,\nWho sojourns here, in right should satisfy.\nBesides, when I this point concluded thus,\nBy praying no defect could be supplied;\nBecause the prayer had none access to God.\nYet in this deep suspicion rest thou not\nContented, unless she assure thee so,\nWho betwixt truth and mind infuses light:\nI know not if thou take me right; I mean\nBeatrice. Her thou shalt behold above,\nUpon this mountain's crown, fair seat of joy.\"\n\nThen I: \"Sir! let us mend our speed; for now\nI tire not as before: and lo! the hill[8]\nStretches its shadow far.\" He answer'd thus:\n\"Our progress with this day shall be as much\nAs we may now despatch; but otherwise\nThan thou supposest is the truth. For there\nThou canst not be, ere thou once more behold\nHim back returning, who behind the steep\nIs now so hidden, that, as erst, his beam\nThou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there\nStands solitary, and toward us looks:\nIt will instruct us in the speediest way.\"\n\n[8: \"The hill.\" It was now past the moon.]\n\nWe soon approach'd it. O thou Lombard spirit!\nHow didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood,\nScarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes.\nIt spoke not aught, but let us onward pass,\nEying us as a lion on his watch.\nBut Virgil, with entreaty mild, advanced,\nRequesting it to show the best ascent.\nIt answer to his question none return'd;\nBut of our country and our kind of life\nDemanded. When my courteous guide began,\n\"Mantua,\" the shadow, in itself absorb'd,\n\nRose toward us from the place in which it stood,\nAnd cried, \"Mantuan! I am thy countryman,\nSordello.\"[9] Each the other then embraced.\n\n[9: Sordello's life is wrapt in obscurity. He distinguished himself\nby his skill in Provencal poetry and many feats of military prowess have been\nattributed to him. It is probable that he was born at the end of the twelfth,\nand died about the middle of the succeeding, century.]\n\nAh, slavish Italy! thou inn of grief!\nVessel without a pilot in loud storm!\nLady no longer of fair provinces,\nBut brothel - house impure! this gentle spirit,\nEven from the pleasant sound of his dear land\nWas prompt to greet a fellow citizen\nWith such glad cheer: while now thy living ones\nIn thee abide not without war; and one\nMalicious gnaws another; ay, of those\nWhom the same wall and the same moat contains.\nSeek, wretched one! around the sea - coasts wide;\nThen homeward to thy bosom turn; and mark,\nIf any part of thee sweet peace enjoy.\nWhat boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand\nRefitted, if thy saddle be unprest?\nNaught doth he now but aggravate thy shame.\nAh, people! thou obedient still should'st live,\nAnd in the saddle let thy Caesar sit,\nIf well thou marked'st that which God commands.\n\nLook how that beast to fellness hath relapsed,\nFrom having lost correction of the spur,\nSince to the bridle thou hast set thine hand,\nO German Albert![10] who abandon'st her\nThat is grown savage and unmanageable,\nWhen thou shouldst clasp her flanks with forked heels.\nJust judgment from the stars fall on thy blood;\nAnd be it strange and manifest to all;\nSuch as may strike thy successor[11] with dread;\nFor that thy sire[12] and thou have suffer'd thus,\n\n[10: The Emperor Albert I succeeded Adolphus in 1298, and was\nmurdered in 1308. See Paradise, Canto xix. 114.]\n\n[11: Henry of Luxemburg, by whose interposition in the affairs of\nItaly our Poet hoped to have been reinstated in his native city.]\n\n[12: The Emperor Rodolph, too intent on increasing his power in\nGermany to give much of his thoughts to Italy, \"the garden of the empire.\"]\n\nThrough greediness of yonder realms detain'd,\nThe garden of the empire to run waste.\nCome, see the Capulets and Montagues,[13]\nThe Filippeschi and Monaldi,[14] man\nWho carest for naught! those sunk in grief, and these\nWith dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one!\nCome, and behold the oppression of the nobles,\nAnd mark their injuries; and thou mayst see\nWhat safety Santafiore can supply.[15]\nCome and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee,\nDesolate widow, day and night with moans,\n\"My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?\"\nCome, and behold what love among thy people:\nAnd if no pity touches thee for us,\nCome, and blush for thine own report. For me,\nIf it be lawful, O Almighty Power!\nWho wast on earth for our sakes crucified,\nAre thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere? or is this\nA preparation, in the wondrous depth\nOf thy sage counsel made, for some good end,\nEntirely from our reach of thought cut off?\nSo are the Italian cities all o'erthrong'd\nWith tyrants, and a great Marcellus made\nOf every petty factious villager.\n\n[13: Two powerful Ghibelline families of Verona.]\n\n[14: Two rival families in Orvieto.]\n\n[15: A place between Pisa and Siena.]\n\nMy Florence! thou mayst well remain unmoved\nAt this digression, which affects not thee:\nThanks to thy people, who so wisely speed.\nMany have justice in their heart, that long\nWaiteth for counsel to direct the bow,\nOr ere it dart unto its aim: but thine\nHave it on their lips' edge. Many refuse\nTo bear the common burdens: readier thine\nAnswer uncall'd, and cry, \"Behold I stoop!\"\n\nMake thyself glad, for thou hast reason now,\nThou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom - fraught!\nFacts best will witness if I speak the truth.\nAthens and Lacedaemon, who of old\nEnacted laws, for civil arts renown'd,\n\nMade little progress in improving life\nToward thee, who usest such nice subtlety,\nThat to the middle of November scarce\nReaches the thread thou in October weavest.\nHow many times within thy memory,\nCustoms, and laws, and coins, and offices\nHave been by thee renew'd, and people changed.\n\nIf thou remember'st well and canst see clear,\nThou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch,\nWho finds no rest upon her down, but oft\nShifting her side, short respite seeks from pain.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 7\n\n\nCanto VII\n\nArgument\n\nThe approach of night hindering further ascent, Sordello conducts our\nPoet apart to an eminence, from whence they behold a pleasant recess, in form\nof a flowery valley, scooped out of the mountain; where are many famous\nspirits, and among them the Emperor Rodolph, Ottocar, King of Bohemia, Philip\nIII of France, Henry of Navarre, Peter III of Arragon, Charles I of Naples,\nHenry III of England, and William, Marquis of Montferrat.\n\nAfter their courteous greetings joyfully\nSeven times exchanged, Sordello backward drew\nExclaiming, \"Who are ye?\" - \"Before this amount\nBy spirits worthy of ascent to God\nWas sought, my bones had by Octavius' care\nBeen buried. I am Virgil; for no sin\nDeprived of Heaven, except for lack of faith.\"\nSo answer'd him in few my gentle guide.\n\nAs one, who aught before him suddenly\nBeholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries,\n\"It is, yet is not,\" wavering in belief;\nSuch he appear'd; then downward bent his eyes,\nAnd, drawing near with reverential step,\nCaught him, where one of mean estate might clasp\nHis lord. \"Glory of Latium!\" he exclaim'd,\n\"In whom our tongue its utmost power display'd;\nBoast of my honor'd birth - place! what desert\nOf mine, what favour, rather, undeserved,\nShows thee to me? If I to hear that voice\nAm worthy, say if from below thou comest,\nAnd from what cloister's pale.\" - \"Through every orb\nOf that sad region,\" he replied, \"thus far\nAm I arrived, by heavenly influence led:\nAnd with such aid I come. Not for my doing,\nBut for not doing, have I lost the sight\nOf that high Sun, whom thou desirest, and who\nBy me too late was known. There is a place[1]\nThere underneath, not made by torments sad,\nBut by dun shades alone; where mourning's voice\nSounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs.\nThere I with little innocents abide,\nWho by death's fangs were bitten, ere exempt\nFrom human taint. There I with those abide,\nWho the three holy virtues[2] put not on,\nBut understood the rest,[3] and without blame\nFollow'd them all\nBut, if thou know'st, and canst,\nDirect us how we soonest may arrive,\nWhere Purgatory its true beginning takes.\"\n\n[1: Limbo. See Hell, Canto iv. 24.]\n\n[2: Faith, Hope, and Charity.]\n\n[3: \"The rest.\" Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance.]\n\nHe answer'd thus\": \"We have no certain place\nAssign'd us: upward I may go, or round.\nFar as I can, I join thee for thy guide.\nBut thou beholdest now how day declines;\nAnd upward to proceed by night, our power\nExcels: therefore it may be well to choose\nA place of pleasant sojourn. To the right\nSome spirits sit apart retired. If thou\nConsentest, I to these will lead thy steps:\nAnd thou wilt know th\nm, not without delight,\"\n\n\"How chances this?\" was answer'd: \"whoso wish'd\nTo ascend by night, would he be thence debarr'd\nBy other, or through his own weakness fail?\"\n\nThe good Sordello then, along the ground\nTrailing his finger, spoke: \"Only this line\nThou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun\nHath disappear'd; not that aught else impedes\nThy going upward, save the shades of night.\nThese, with the want of power, perplex the will.\n\nWith them thou haply mightst return beneath,\nOr to and fro around the mountain's side\nWander, while day is in the horizon shut.\"\n\nMy master straight, as wondering at his speech,\nExclaim'd: \"Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst\nThat, while we stay, we may enjoy delight.\"\n\nA little space we were removed from thence,\nWhen I perceived the mountain hollow'd out,\nEven as large valleys hollow'd out on earth.\n\n\"That way,\" the escorting spirit cried, \"we go,\nWhere in a bosom the high bank recedes:\nAnd thou await renewal of the day.\"\n\nBetwixt the steep and plain, a crooked path\nLed us traverse into the ridge's side,\nWhere more than half the sloping edge expires.\nRefulgent gold, and silver thrice refined,\nAnd scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood\nOf lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds\nBut newly broken, by the herbs and flowers\nPlaced in that fair recess, in color all\nHad been surpass'd, as great surpasses less.\nNor nature only there lavish'd her hues,\nBut of the sweetness of a thousand smells\nA rare and undistinguish'd fragrance made.\n\n\"Salve Regina,\"[4] on the grass and flowers,\nHere chanting, I beheld those spirits sit,\nWho not beyond the valley could be seen.\n\n[4: \"Salve Regina.\" The beginning of a prayer to the Virgin.]\n\n\"Before the westering sun sink to his bed,\"\nBegan the Mantuan, who our steps had turn'd,\n\"'Mid those, desire not that I lead ye on.\nFor from this eminence ye shall discern\nBetter the acts and visages of all,\nThan, in the nether vale, among them mix'd.\nHe, who sits high above the rest, and seems\nTo have neglected that he should have done,\nAnd to the others' song moves not his lip,\nThe Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal'd\nThe wounds whereof fair Italy hath died,\n\nSo that by others she revives but slowly.\nHe, who with kindly visage comforts him,\nSway'd in that country,[5] where the water springs,\nThat Moldaw's river to the Elbe, and Elbe\nRolls to the ocean: Ottocar[6] his name:\nWho in his swaddling - clothes was of more worth\nThan Wenceslaus his son, a bearded man,\nPamper'd with rank luxuriousness and ease.\nAnd that one with the nose deprest,[7] who close\nIn counsel seems with him of gentle look,[8]\nFlying expired, withering the lily's flower.\nLook there, how he doth knock against his breast.\nThe other ye behold, who for his cheek\nMakes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs.\nThey are the father and the father - in - law\nOf Gallia's bane:[9] his vicious life they know\nAnd foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus.\n\n[5: \"That country.\" Bohemia.]\n\n[6: \"Ottocar.\" King of Bohemia, who was killed in the battle of\nMarchfield, fought with Rodolph, August 26, 1278. Wenceslaus II, his son, who\nsucceeded him in the Kingdom of Bohemia, died in 1305. The latter is again\ntaxed with luxury in the Paradise, xix. 123.]\n\n[7: \"That one with the nose deprest.\" Philip III, of France, father\nof Philip IV. He died in 1285, at Perpignan, in his retreat from Arragon.]\n\n[8: \"Him of gentle look.\" Henry of Navarre, father of Jane, married\nto Philip IV, of France, whom Dante calls \"mal di Francia.\" - \"Gallia's\nbane.\"]\n\n[9: \"Gallia's bane.\" G. Villani, lib. vii. cap. cxlvi, speaks with\nequal resentment of Philip IV. \"In 1291, on the night of the calends of May,\nPhilip le Bel, King of France, by advice of Biccio and Musciatto Franzesi,\nordered all the Italians, who were in his country and realm, to be seized,\nunder pretence of seizing the money - lenders, but thus he caused the good\nmerchants also to be seized and ransomed; for which he was much blamed and\nheld in great abhorrence. And from thenceforth the realm of France fell\nevermore into degradation and decline. And it is observable that between the\ntaking of Acre and this seizure in France, the merchants of Florence received\ngreat damage and ruin of their property.\"]\n\n\"He, so robust of limb,[10] who measure keeps\nIn song with him of feature prominent,[11]\nWith every virtue bore his girdle braced.\n\n[10: \"He, so robust of limb.\" Peter III, called the Great, King of\nArragon, who died in 1285, leaving four sons, Alonzo, James, Frederick, and\nPeter. The two former succeeded him in the Kingdom of Arragon, and Frederick\nin that of Sicily.]\n\n[11: \"Him of feature prominent.\" \"Dal maschio naso\" - \"with the\nmasculine nose.\" Charles I, King of Naples, Count of Anjou, and brother of St.\nLouis. He died in 1284. The annalist of Florence remarks that \"there had been\nno sovereign of the house of France, since the time of Charlemagne, by whom\nCharles was surpassed either in military renown and prowess, or in the\nloftiness of his understanding.\"]\n\nAnd if that stripling,[12] who behind sits,\nKing after him had lived, his virtue then\nFrom vessel to like vessel had been pour'd;\nWhich may not of the other heirs be said.\nBy James and Frederick his realms are held;\nNeither the better heritage obtains.\nRarely into the branches of the tree\nDoth human worth mount up: and so ordains\nHe who bestows it, that as His free gift\nIt may be call'd. To Charles[13] my words apply\nNo less than to his brother in song;\nWhich Pouille and Provence now with grief confess.\nSo much that plant degenerates from its seed,\nAs, more than Beatrix and Margaret,\nCostanza,[14] still boasts of her valorous spouse.\n\n[12: \"That stripling.\" Either (as the old commentators suppose)\nAlonzo III, King of Arragon, the eldest son of Peter III, who died in 1291, at\nthe age of 27; or, according to Venturi, Peter, the youngest son. The former\nwas a young prince of virtue sufficient to have justified the eulogium and the\nhopes of Dante.]\n\n[13: \"To Charles.\" \"Al Nausto\" - Charles II, King of Naples, is no\nless inferior to his father, Charles I, than James and Frederick to theirs,\nPeter III.]\n\n[14: \"Costanza.\" Widow of Peter III. She has been already mentioned\nin the third Canto, v. 112. By Beatrix and Margaret are probably meant two of\nthe daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence; the latter married to\nSt. Louis of France, the former to his brother Charles of Anjou, King of\nNaples. See Paradise, Canto vi. 135. Dante therefore considers Peter as the\nmost illustrious of the three monarchs.]\n\n\"Behold the King of simple life and plain,\nHarry of England,[15] sitting there alone:\nHe through his branches better issue[16] spreads.\n\n[15: \"Harry of England.\" Henry III. The contemporary annalist speaks\nof this king in similar terms. G. Villani, lib. v. cap. iv. \"From Richard was\nborn Henry, who reigned after him, who was a plain man of good faith, but of\nlittle courage.\"]\n\n[16: \"Better issue.\" Edward I, of whose glory our Poet was perhaps a\nwitness, in his visit to England. \"From the said Henry was born the good King\nEdward, who reigns in our times, who has done great things, whereof we shall\nmake mention in due place.\" - G. Villani, ibid.]\n\n\"That one, who, on the ground, beneath the rest,\nSits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft,\nIs William, that brave Marquis,[17] for whose cause,\nThe deed of Alexandria and his war\nMakes Montferrat and Canavese weep.\"\n\n[17: \"William, that brave Marquis.\" William, Marquis of Montferrat,\nwas treacherously seized by his own subjects, at Alessandria in Lombardy, A.\nD. 1290, and ended his life in prison. A war ensued between the people of\nAlessandria and those of Montferrat and the Canavese, now part of Piedmont.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 8\n\n\nCanto VIII\n\nArgument\n\nTwo Angels, with flaming swords broken at the points, descend to keep\nwatch over the valley, into which Virgil and Dante entering by desire of\nSordello, our Poet meets with joy the spirit of Nino, the judge of Gallura,\none who was well known to him. Meantime three exceedingly bright stars appear\nnear the pole, and a serpent creeps subtly into the valley, but flees at\nhearing the approach of those angelic guards. Lastly, Conrad Malaspina\npredicts to our Poet his future banishment.\n\nNow was the hour that wakens fond desire\nIn men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart\nWho in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,\nAnd pilgrim newly on his road with love\nThrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far,\nThat seems to mourn for the expiring day:\nWhen I, no longer taking heed to hear,\nBegan, with wonder, from those spirits to mark\nOne risen from its seat, which with its hand\nAudience implored. Both palms it join'd and raised,\nFixing its steadfast gaze toward the east,\nAs telling God, \"I care for naught beside.\"\n\n\"Te Lucis Ante,\"[1] so devoutly then\nCame from its lip, and in so soft a strain,\nThat all my sense in ravishment was lost.\nAnd the rest after, softly and devout,\nFollow'd through all the hymn, with upward gaze\nDirected to the bright supernal wheels.\n\n[1: \"Te lucis ante terminum,\" the first verse of the hymn in the last\npart of the sacred office, termed \"complin.\"]\n\nHere, reader! for the truth make thine eyes keen:\nFor of so subtle texture is this veil,\nThat thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark'd.\n\nI saw that gentle band silently next\nLook up, as if in expectation held,\nPale and in lowly guise; and, from on high,\nI saw, forth issuing descend beneath,\nTwo Angels, with two flame - illumined swords,\nBroken and mutilated of their points.\nGreen as the tender leaves but newly born,\nTheir vesture was, the which, by wings as green\nBeaten, they drew behind them, fann'd in air.\nA little over us one took his stand;\n\nThe other lighted on the opposing hill;\nSo that the troop were in the midst contain'd.\n\nWell I descried the whiteness on their heads;\nBut in their visages the dazzled eye\nWas lost, as faculty that by too much\nIs overpower'd. \"From Mary's bosom both\nAre come,\" exclaim'd Sordello, \"as a guard\nOver the vale, 'gainst him who hither tends,\nThe serpent.\" Whence, not knowing by which path\nHe came, I turn'd me round; and closely press'd,\nAll frozen, to my leader's trusted side.\n\nSordello paused not: \"To the valley now\n(For it is time) let us descend; and hold\nConverse with those great shadows: haply much\nTheir sight may please ye.\" Only three steps down\nMethinks I measured, ere I was beneath,\nAnd noted one who look'd as with desire\nTo know me. Time was now that air grew dim;\nYet not so dim, that, 'twixt his eyes and mine,\nIt clear'd not up what was conceal'd before.\nMutually toward each other we advanced.\nNino, thou courteous judge![2] what joy I felt,\nWhen I perceived thou wert not with the bad.\n\n[2: Nino di Gallura de' Visconti, nephew to Count Ugolino de'\nGherardeschi, and betrayed by him.]\n\nNo salutation kind on either part\nWas left unsaid. He then inquired: \"How long,\nSince thou arrived'st at the mountain's foot,\nOver the distant waves?\" - \"Oh!\" answer'd I,\n\"Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came;\nAnd still in my first life, thus journeying on,\nThe other strive to gain.\" Soon as they heard\nMy words, he and Sordello backward drew,\nAs suddenly amazed. To Virgil one,\nThe other to a spirit turn'd, who near\nWas seated, crying: \"Conrad![3] up with speed:\nCome, see what of His grace high God hath will'd.\"\nThen turning round to me: \"By that rare mark\nOf honour, which thou owest to Him, who hides\nSo deeply His first cause it hath no ford;\n\n[3: Father to Marcello Malaspina.]\n\nWhen thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves,\nTell my Giovanna,[4] that for me she call\nThere, where reply to innocence is made.\nHer mother,[5] I believe, loves me no more;\nSince she has changed the white and wimpled folds,[6]\nWhich she is doom'd once more with grief to wish.\nBy her it easily may be perceived,\nHow long in woman lasts the flame of love,\nIf sight and touch do not relume it oft.\nFor her so fair a burial will not make\nThe viper,[7] which calls Milan to the field,\nAs had been made by shrill Gallura's bird.\"[8]\n\n[4: The daughter of Nino, and wife of Riccardo da Camino, of\nTrevigi.]\n\n[5: \"Her mother.\" Beatrice, Marchioness of Este, wife of Nino, and\nafter his death married to Galeazzo de' Visconti of Milan.]\n\n[6: The weeds of widowhood.]\n\n[7: The arms of Galeazzo and the ensign of the Milanese.]\n\n[8: The cock was the ensign of Gallura, Nino's province in Sardinia.\nIt is not known whether Beatrice had any further cause to regret her nuptials\nwith Galeazzo, than a certain shame which appears, however unreasonably, to\nhave attached to a second marriage.]\n\nHe spoke, and in his visage took the stamp\nOf that right zeal, which with due temperature\nGlows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes\nMeanwhile to Heaven had travel'd, even there\nWhere the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel\nNearest the axle; when my guide inquired:\n\"What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?\"\n\nI answer'd: \"The three torches,[9] with which here\nThe pole is all on fire.\" He then to me:\n\"The four resplendent stars, thou saw'st this morn,\nAre there beneath; and these, risen in their stead.\"\n\n[9: The three evangelical virtues, Faith, Hope and Charity, are\nsupposed to rise in the evening, to denote their belonging to the\ncontemplative; as the four others are made to rise in the morning to signify\ntheir belonging to the active life: or perhaps it may mark the succession, in\norder of time, of the Gospel to the heathen system of morality.]\n\nWhile yet he spoke, Sordello to himself\nDrew him, and cried: \"Lo there our enemy!\"\nAnd with his hand pointed that way to look.\n\nAlong the side, where barrier none arose\nAround the little vale, a serpent lay,\nSuch haply as gave Eve the bitter food.\nBetween the grass and flowers, the evil snake\nCame on, reverting oft his lifted head;\n\nAnd, as a beast that smooths its polish'd coat,\nLicking his back. I saw not, nor can tell,\nHow those celestial falcons from their seat\nMoved, but in motion each one well described.\nHearing the air cut by their verdant plumes,\nThe serpent fled; and, to their stations, back\nThe Angels up return'd with equal flight.\n\nThe spirit, (who to Nino, when he call'd,\nHad come), from viewing me with fixed ken,\nThrough all that conflict, loosen'd not his sight.\n\n\"So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high,\nFind, in thy free resolve, of wax so much,\nAs may suffice thee to the enamel'd height.\"\nIt thus began: \"If any certain news\nOf Valdimagra and the neighbour part\nThou know'st, tell me, who once was mighty there.\nThey call'd me Conrad Malaspina; not\nThat old one, but from him I sprang. The love\nI bore my people is now here refined.\"\n\n\"In your domains,\" I answer'd, \"ne'er was I.\nBut, through all Europe, where do those men dwell,\nTo whom their glory is not manifest?\nThe fame, that honours your illustrious house,\nProclaims the nobles, and proclaims the land;\nSo that he knows it, who was never there.\nI swear to you, so may my upward route\nProsper, your honoured nation not impairs\nThe value of her coffer and her sword.\nNature and use give her such privilege,\nThat while the world is twisted from his course\nBy a bad head, she only walks aright,\nAnd has the evil way in scorn.\" He then:\n\"Now pass thee on: seven times the tired sun[10]\nRevisits not the couch, which with the four feet\nThe forked Aries covers, ere that kind\nOpinion shall be nail'd into thy brain\n\n[10: The sun shall not enter into the constellation of Aries seven\ntimes more, before thou shalt have still better cause for the good opinion\nthou expressest of Valdimagra, in the kind reception thou shalt there meet\nwith.\" Dante was hospitably received by the Marchese Marcello, or Morello\nMalaspina, during his banishment, A. D. 1307.]\n\nWith stronger nails than other's speech can drive;\nIf the sure course of judgment be not stay'd.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 9\n\n\nCanto IX\n\nArgument\n\nDante is carried up the mountain, asleep and dreaming, by Lucia; and, on\nawakening, finds himself, two hours after sunrise, with Virgil, near the gate\nof Purgatory, through which they are admitted by the Angel deputed by St.\nPeter to keep it.\n\nNow the fair consort of Tithonus old,\nArisen from her name's beloved arms,\nLook'd palely o'er the eastern cliff; her brow,\nLucent with jewels, glitter'd, set in sign\nOf that chill animal,[1] who with his train\nSmites fearful nations: and where then we were,\nTwo steps of her ascent the night had past;\nAnd now the third was closing up its wing,[2]\nWhen I, who had so much of Adam with me,\nSank down upon the grass, o'ercome with sleep,\nThere where all five[3] were seated. In that hour,\nWhen near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,\nRemembering haply ancient grief,[4] renews;\nAnd when our minds, more wanderers from the flesh,\nAnd less by thought restrain'd are, as 't were, full\nOf holy divination in their dreams;\nThen, in a vision, did I seem to view\nA golden - feather'd eagle in the sky,\nWith open wings, and hovering for descent;\nAnd I was in that place, methought, from whence\nYoung Ganymede, from his associates 'reft,\nWas snatch'd aloft to the high consistory.\n\"Perhaps,\" thought I within me, \"here alone\nHe strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains\n\n[1: \"Of that chill animal.\" The scorpion.]\n\n[2: The third was closing up its wing.\" The night being divided into\nfour watches, I think he may mean that the third was past, and the fourth and\nlast was begun, so that there might be some faint glimmering of morning\ntwilight; and not merely, as Lombardi supposes, that the third watch was\ndrawing toward its close, which would still leave an insurmountable difficulty\nin the first verse.]\n\n[3: \"All five.\" Virgil, Dante, Sordello, Nino, and Corrado\nMalaspina.]\n\n[4: \"Remembering haply ancient grief.\" Progne having been changed\ninto a swallow after the outrage done her by Tereus.]\n\nTo pounce upon the prey.\" Therewith, it seem'd,\nA little wheeling in his aery tour,\nTerrible as the lightning, rush'd he down,\nAnd snatch'd me upward even to the fire.\nThere both, I thought, the eagle and myself\nDid burn; and so intense the imagined flames,\nThat needs my sleep was broken off. As erst\nAchilles shook himself, and round him roll'd\nHis waken'd eyeballs, wondering where he was,\nWhenas his mother had from Chiron fled\nTo Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;\nThere whence the Greeks did after sunder him;\nE'en thus I shook me, soon as from my face\nThe slumber parted, turning deadly pale,\nLike one ice - struck with dread. Sole at my side\nMy comfort stood: and the bright sun was now\nMore than two hours aloft: and to the sea\nMy looks were turn'd. \"Fear not,\" my master cried,\n\"Assured we are at happy point. Thy strength\nShrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come\nTo Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff\nThat circling bounds it. Lo! the entrance there,\nWhere it doth seem disparted. Ere the dawn\nUsher'd the day - light, when thy wearied soul\nSlept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath\nA lady came, and thus bespake me: 'I\nAm Lucia.[5] Suffer me to take this man,\nWho slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.'\nSordello and the other gentle shapes\nTarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,\nThis summit reach'd: and I pursued her steps.\nHere did she place thee. First, her lovely eyes\nThat open entrance show'd me; then at once\nShe vanish'd with thy sleep.\" Like one, whose doubts\nAre chased by certainty, and terror turn'd\nTo comfort on discovery of the truth,\nSuch was the change in me: and as my guide\nBeheld me fearless, up along the cliff\nHe moved, and I behind him, toward the height.\n\n[5: \"Lucia.\" See Hell, c. ii 97 and Paradise, c. xxxii. 123.]\n\nReader! thou markest how my theme doth rise;\nNor wonder therefore, if more artfully\nI prop the structure. Nearer now we drew,\nArrived whence, in that part, where first a breach\nAs of a wall appear'd, I could descry\nA portal, and three steps beneath, that led\nFor inlet there, of different colour each;\nAnd one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word.\nAs more and more mine eye did stretch its view,\nI mark'd him seated on the highest step,\nIn visage such, as past my power to bear.\nGrasp'd in his hand, a naked sword glanced back\nThe rays so toward me, that I oft in vain\nMy sight directed. \"Speak, from whence ye stand;\"\nHe cried: \"What would ye? Where is your escort?\nTake heed your coming upward harm ye not.\"\n\n\"A heavenly dame, not skill - less of these things,\"\nReplied the instructor, \"told us, even now,\n'Pass that way: here the gate is.'\" - \"And may she,\nBefriending, prosper your ascent,\" resumed\nThe courteous keeper of the gate: \"Come then\nBefore our steps.\" We straightway thither came.\n\nThe lowest stair[6] was marble white, so smooth\nAnd polish'd, that therein my mirror'd form\nDistinct I saw. The next of hue more dark\nThan sablest grain, a rough and singed block,\nCrack'd lengthwise and across. The third, that lay\nMassy above, seem'd porphyry, that flamed\nRed as the life - blood spouting from a vein.\nOn this God's angel either foot sustain'd,\nUpon the threshold seated, which appear'd\nA rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps\nMy leader cheerly drew me. \"Ask,\" said he,\n\"With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.\"\n\n[6: The white step suggests the conscience of the penitent reflecting\nhis offences; the burnt and cracked one, his contrition on their account; the\nporphyry, the fervor with which he resolves on the future pursuit of piety and\nvirtue.]\n\nPiously at his holy feet devolved\nI cast me, praying him for pity's sake\nThat he would open to me; but first fell\n\nThrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times[7]\nThe letter, that denotes the inward stain,\nHe, on my forehead, with the blunted point\nOf his drawn sword, inscribed. And \"Look,\" he cried,\n\"When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away.\"\n\n[7: \"Seven times.\" Seven P's, to denote the seven sins (Peccata) of\nwhich he was to be cleansed in his passage through Purgatory.]\n\nAshes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground,\nWere of one colour with the robe he wore.\nFrom underneath that vestment forth he drew\nTwo keys,[8] of metal twain: the one was gold,\nIts fellow silver. With the pallid first,\nAnd next the burnish'd he so ply'd the gate,\nAs to content me well. \"Whenever one\nFaileth of these, that in the key - hole straight\nIt turn not, to this alley then expect\nAccess in vain.\" Such were the words he spake.\n\"One is more precious:[9] but the other needs\nSkill and sagacity, large share of eaeh,\nEre its good task to disengage the knot\nBe worthily perform'd. From Peter these\nI hold, of him instructed that I err\nRather in opening, than in keeping fast;\nSo but the suppliant at my feet implore.\"\n\n[8: \"Two keys.\" Lombardi remarks that painters have usually drawn St.\nPeter with two keys, the one of gold and the other of silver; but that Niccolo\nAlemanni, in his Dissertation de Parietinis Lateranensibus, produces instances\nof his being represented with one key, and with three. We have here, however,\nnot St. Peter, but an angel deputed by him.]\n\n[9: The golden key denotes the divine authority by which the priest\nabsolves the sinners; the silver, the learning and judgment requisite for the\ndue discharge of that office.]\n\nThen of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door,\nExclaiming, \"Enter, but this warning hear:\nHe forth again departs who looks behind.\"\n\nAs in the hinges of that sacred ward\nThe swivels turn'd, sonorous metal strong,\nHarsh was the grating; nor so surlily\nRoar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereft\nOf good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss\nTo leanness doom'd. Attentively I turn'd,\nListening the thunder that first issued forth;\nAnd \"We praise thee, O God,\" methought I heard,\n\nIn accents blended with sweet melody.\nThe strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound\nOf choral voices, that in solemn chant\nWith organ[10] mingle, and now high and clear\nCome swelling, now float indistinct away.\n\n[10: \"Organ.\" Organs were used in Italy as early as in the sixth\ncentury. If I remember rightly there is a passage in the Emperor Julian's\nwritings, which shows that the organ was not unknown in his time.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 10\n\n\nCanto X\n\nArgument\n\nBeing admitted at the gate of Purgatory, our Poets ascend a winding path\nup the rock, till they reach an open and level space that extends each way\nround the mountain. On the side that rises, and which is of white marble, are\nseen artfully engraven many stories of humility, which whilst they are\ncontemplating, there approach the souls of those who expiate the sin of pride,\nand who are bent down beneath the weight of heavy stones.\n\nWhen we had passed the threshold of the gate,\n(Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse,\nMaking the crooked seem the straighter path,)\nI heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn'd,\nFor that offence what plea might have avail'd?\n\nWe mounted up the riven rock, that wound\nOn either side alternate, as the wave\nFlies and advances. \"Here some little art\nBehoves us,\" said my leader, \"that our steps\nObserve the varying flexure of the path.\"\n\nThus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb\nThe moon once more o'erhangs her watery couch,\nEre we that strait have threaded. But when free,\nWe came, and open, where the mount above\nOne solid mass retires; I spent with toil,\nAnd both uncertain of the way, we stood,\nUpon a plain more lonesome than the roads\nThat traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink\nBorders upon vacuity, to foot\nOf the steep bank that rises still, the space\nHad measured thrice the stature of a man:\nAnd, distant as mine eye could wing its flight,\nTo leftward now and now to right despatch'd,\nThat cornice equal in extent appear'd.\n\nNot yet our feet had on that summit moved,\nWhen I discover'd that the bank, around,\nWhose proud uprising all ascent denied,\nWas marble white; and so exactly wrought\nWith quaintest sculpture, that not there alone\nHad Polycletus, but e'en nature's self\nBeen shamed. The Angel (who came down to earth\nWith tidings of the peace so many years\nWept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates\nFrom their long interdict) before us seem'd,\nIn a sweet act, so sculptured to the life,\nHe look'd no silent image. One had sworn\nHe had said \"Hail!\" for she was imaged there,\nBy whom the key did open to God's love;\nAnd in her act as sensibly imprest\nThat word, \"Behold the handmaid of the Lord,\"\nAs figure seal'd on wax. \"Fix not thy mind\nOn one place only,\" said the guide beloved,\nWho had me near him on that part where lies\nThe heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn'd,\nAnd mark'd, behind the Virgin Mother's form,\nUpon that side where he that moved me stood,\nAnother story graven on the rock.\n\nI past athwart the bard, and drew me near,\nThat it might stand more aptly for my view.\nThere, in the self - same marble, were engraved\nThe cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,\nThat from unbidden office awes mankind.\nBefore it came much people; and the whole\nParted in seven quires. One sense cried \"Nay,\"\nAnother, \"Yes, they sing.\" Like doubt arose\nBetwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fume\nOf incense breathing up the well - wrought toil.\nPreceding the blest vessel, onward came\nWith light dance leaping, girt in humble guise,\nIsrael's sweet harper: in that hap he seem'd\nLess, and yet more, than kingly. Opposite\nAt a great palace, from the lattice forth\nLook'd Michol, like a lady full of scorn\nAnd sorrow. To behold the tablet next,\nWhich, at the back of Michol, whitely shone,\nI moved me. There, was storied on the rock\nThe exalted glory of the Roman prince,\nWhose mighty worth moved Gregory[1] to earn\nHis mighty conquest, Trajan the Emperor.\nA widow at his bridle stood, attired\nIn tears and mourning. Round about them troop'd\nFull throng of knights; and overhead in gold\nThe eagles floated, struggling with the wind.\nThe wretch appear'd amid all these to say:\n\"Grant vengeance, Sire! for, woe beshrew this heart,\nMy son is murder'd.\" He replying seem'd:\n\"Wait now till I return.\" And she, as one\nMade hasty by her grief: \"O Sire! if thou\nDost not return?\" - \"Where I am, who then is,\nMay right thee.\" - \"What to thee is other's good,\nIf thou neglect thy own?\" - \"Now comfort thee;\"\nAt length he answers. \"It beseemeth well\nMy duty be perform'd, ere I move hence:\nSo justice wills; and pity bids me stay.\"\n\n[1: \"Gregory.\" St. Gregory's prayers are said to have delivered\nTrajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto xx. 40.]\n\nHe, whose ken nothing new surveys, produced\nThat visible speaking, new to us and strange,\nThe like not found on earth. Fondly I gazed\nUpon those patterns of meek humbleness,\nShapes yet more precious for their artist's sake;\nWhen \"Lo!\" the poet whisper'd, \"where this way\n(But slack their pace) a multitude advance,\nThese to the lofty steps shall guide us on.\"\n\nMine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights,\nTheir loved allurement, were not slow to turn.\n\nReader! I would not that amazed thou miss\nOf thy good purpose, hearing how just God\nDecrees our debts be cancel'd. Ponder not\nThe form of suffering. Think on what succeeds:\nThink that, at worst, beyond the mighty doom\nIt cannot pass. \"Instructor!\" I began,\n\"What I see hither tending, bears no trace\nOf human semblance, nor of aught beside\n\nThat my foil'd sight can guess.\" He answering thus:\n\"So curb'd to earth, beneath their heavy terms\nOf torment stoop they, that mine eye at first\nStruggled as thine. But look intently thither;\nAnd disentangle with thy laboring view,\nWhat, underneath those stones, approacheth: now,\nE'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each.\"\n\nChristians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!\nThat, feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust\nUpon unstaid perverseness: know ye not\nThat we are worms, yet made at last to form\nThe winged insect,[2] imp'd with angel plumes,\nThat to Heaven's justice unobstructed soars?\nWhy buoy ye up aloft your unfledged souls?\nAbortive then and shapeless ye remain,\nLike the untimely embryon of a worm.\n\n[2: \"The winged insect.\" The butterfly was an ancient and well -\nknown symbol of the human soul.]\n\nAs, to support incumbent floor or roof,\nFor corbel, is a figure sometimes seen,\nThat crumples up its knees unto its breast;\nWith the feign'd posture, stirring ruth unfeign'd\nIn the beholder's fancy; so I saw\nThese fashion'd, when I noted well their guise.\n\nEach, as his back was laden, came indeed\nOr more or less contracted; and it seem'd\nAs he, who show'd most patience in his look,\nWailing exclaim'd: \"I can endure no more.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 11\n\n\nCanto XI\n\nArgument\n\nAfter a prayer uttered by the spirits, who were spoken of in the last\nCanto, Virgil inquires the way upward, and is answered by one, who declares\nhimself to have been Omberto, son of the Count of Santafiore. Next our Poet\ndistinguishes Oderigi, the illuminator, who discourses on the vanity of\nworldly fame, and points out to him the soul of Provenzano Salvani.\n\nO Thou Almighty Father! who dost make\nThe heavens Thy dwelling, not in bounds confined,\nBut that, with love intenser, there Thou view'st\nThy primal effluence; hallow'd be thy name:\nJoin, each created being, to extol\n\nThy might; for worthy humblest thanks and praise\nIs Thy blest Spirit. May Thy kingdom's peace\nCome unto us; for we, unless it come,\nWith all our striving, thither tend in vain.\nAs, of their will, the Angels unto Thee\nTender meet sacrifice, circling Thy throne\nWith loud hosannas; so of theirs be done\nBy saintly men on earth. Grant us, this day,\nOur daily manna, without which he roams\nThrough this rough desert retrograde, who most\nToils to advance his steps. As we to each\nPardon the evil done us, pardon Thou\nBenign, and of our merit take no count.\n'Gainst the old adversary, prove Thou not\nOur virtue, easily subdued; but free\nFrom his incitements, and defeat his wiles.\nThis last petition, dearest Lord! is made\nNot for ourselves; since that were needless now;\nBut for their sakes who after us remain.\"\n\nThus for themselves and us good speed imploring,\nThose spirits went beneath a weight like that\nWe sometimes feel in dreams; all, sore beset,\nBut with unequal anguish; wearied all;\nRound the first circuit; purging as they go\nThe world's gross darkness off. In our behoof\nIf their vows still be offer'd, what can here\nFor them be vow'd and done by such, whose wills\nHave root of goodness in them? Well beseems\nThat we should help them wash away the stains\nThey carried hence; that so, made pure and light,\nThey may spring upward to the starry spheres.\n\n\"Ah! so may mercy - temper'd justice rid\nYour burdens speedily; that ye have power\nTo stretch your wing, which e'en to your desire\nShall lift you; as ye show us on which hand\nToward the ladder leads the shortest way.\nAnd if there be more passages than one,\nInstruct us of that easiest to ascend:\nFor this man, who comes with me, and bears yet\nThe charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,\nDespite his better will, but slowly mounts.\"\nFrom whom the answer came unto these words,\nWhich my guide spake, appear'd not; but 'twas said:\n\"Along the bank to rightward come with us;\nAnd ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil\nOf living man to climb: and were it not\nThat I am hinder'd by the rock, wherewith\nThis arrogant neck is tamed, whence needs I stoop\nMy visage to the ground; him, who yet lives,\nWhose name thou speak'st not, him I fain would view;\nTo mark if e'er I knew him, and to crave\nHis pity for the fardel that I bear.\nI was of Latium;[1] of a Tuscan born,\nA mighty one: Aldobrandesco's name\nMy sire's, I know not if ye e'er have heard.\nMy old blood and forefathers' gallant deeds\nMade me so haughty, that I clean forgot\nThe common mother; and to such excess\nWax'd in my scorn of all men, that I fell,\nFell therefore; by what fate, Siena's sons.\nEach child in Campagnatico, can tell.\nI am Omberto: not me, only, pride\nHath injured, but my kindred all involved\nIn mischief with her. Here my lot ordains\nUnder this weight to groan, till I appease\nGod's angry justice, since I did it not\nAmongst the living, here amongst the dead.\"\n\n[1: \"I was of Latium.\" Omberto, the son of Guglielmo Aldobrandesco,\nCount of Santafiore, in the territory of Siena. His arrogance provoked his\ncountrymen to such a pitch of fury against him that he was murdered by them at\nCampagnatico.]\n\nListening I bent my visage down: and one\n(Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight\nThat urged him, saw me, knew me straight, and call'd;\nHolding his eyes with difficulty fix'd\nIntent upon me, stooping as I went\nCompanion of their way. \"O!\" I exclaim'd,\n\"Art thou not Oderigi?[2] art not thou\nAgobbio's glory, glory of that art\nWhich they of Paris call the limner's skill?\"\n\n[2: The illuminator, or miniature painter, a friend of Giotto and\nDante.]\n\n\"Brother!\" said he, \"with tints, that gayer smile,\n\nBolognian Franco's[3] pencil lines the leaves.\nHis all the honour now; my light obscured.\nIn truth, I had not been thus courteous to him\nThe whilst I lived, through eagerness of zeal\nFor that pre - eminence my heart was bent on.\nHere, of such pride, the forfeiture is paid.\nNor were I even here, if, able still\nTo sin, I had not turn'd me unto God.\nO powers of man! how vain your glory, nipt\nE'en in its height of verdure, if an age\nLess bright succeed not. Cimabue thought\nTo lord it over painting's field; and now\nThe cry is Giotto's,[4] and his name eclipsed.\nThus hath one Guido from the other[5] snatch'd\nThe letter'd prize: and he, perhaps, is born,\nWho shall drive either from their nest. The noise\nOf worldly fame is but a blast of wind,\nThat blows from diverse points, and shifts its name,\nShifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more\nLive in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh\nPart shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst died\nBefore the coral and the pap were left;\nOr e'er some thousand years have past? and that\nIs, to eternity compared, a space\nBriefer than is the twinkling of an eye\nTo the heaven's slowest orb. He there, who treads\nSo leisurely before me, far and wide\nThrough Tuscany resounded once; and now\nIs in Siena scarce with whispers named:\nThere was he sovereign, when destruction caught\nThe maddening rage of Florence, in that day\nProud as she now is loathsome. Your renown\nIs as the herb, whose hue doth come and go;\n\n[3: Franco of Bologna, who is said to have been a pupil of\nOderigi's.]\n\n[4: \"The cry is Giotto's.\" In Giotto we have a proof at how early a\nperiod the fine arts were encouraged in Italy. His talents were discovered by\nCimabue, while he was tending sheep for his father in the neighborhood of\nFlorence, and he was afterward patronized by Pope Benedict XI and Robert, King\nof Naples; and enjoyed the society and friendship of Dante, whose likeness he\nhas transmitted to posterity.]\n\n[5: Guido Cavalcanti, the friend of our Poet, had eclipsed the\nliterary fame of Guido Guinicelli. See also the twenty - sixth Canto.]\n\nAnd his might withers it, by whom it sprang\nCrude from the lap of earth.\" I thus to him:\n\"True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe\nThe kindly spirit of meekness, and allay\nWhat tumours rankle there. But who is he,\nOf whom thou spakest but now?\" - \"This,\" he replied,\n\"I Provenzano. He is here, because\nHe reach'd with grasp presumptuous, at the sway\nOf all Siena. Thus he still hath gone,\nThus goeth never - resting, since he died.\nSuch is the acquittance render'd back of him,\nWho, in the mortal life, too much hath dared.\"\nI then: \"If soul, that to life's verge delays\nRepentance, linger in that lower space,\nNor hither mount, (unless good prayers befriend),\nOr ever time, long as it lived, be past;\nHow chanced admittance was vouchsafed to him?\"\n\n\"When at his glory's topmost height,\" said he,\n\"Respect of dignity all cast aside,\nFreely he fix'd him on Siena's plain,\nA suitor[6] to redeem his suffering friend,\nWho languish'd in the prison - house of Charles;\nNor, for his sake, refused through every vein\nTo tremble. More I will not say; and dark,\nI know, my words are; but thy neighbours soon\nShall help thee to a comment on the text.\nThis is the work, that from these limits freed him.\"\n\n[6: Provenzano Salvani, for the sake of one of his friends who was\ndetained in captivity by Charles I of Sicily, personally supplicated the\npeople of Siena to contribute the ransom required by the King; and this act of\nself - abasement atoned for his general ambition. He fell at Vald' Elsa, where\nthe Florentines discomfited the Sienese in June, 1269.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 12\n\n\nCanto XII\n\nArgument\n\nDante, being desired by Virgil to look down on the ground which they are\ntreading, observes that it is wrought over with imagery exhibiting various\ninstances of pride recorded in history and fable. They leave the first\ncornice, and are ushered to the next by an angel who points out the way.\n\nWith equal pace, as oxen in the yoke,\nI, with that laden spirit, journey'd on,\nLong as the mild instructor suffer'd me;\nBut, when he bade me quit him, and proceed,\n(For \"Here,\" said he, \"behoves with sail and oars\nEach man, as best he may, push on his bark,\")\nUpright, as one disposed for speed, I raised\nMy body, still in thought submissive bow'd.\n\nI now my leader's track not loth pursued;\nAnd each had shown how light we fared along,\nWhen thus he warned me: \"Bend thine eyesight down,\nFor thou, to ease the way, shalt find it good\nTo ruminate the bed beneath thy feet.\"\n\nAs, in memorial of the buried, drawn\nUpon earth - level tombs, the sculptured form\nOf what was once, appears, (at sight whereof\nTears often stream forth, by remembrance waked,\nWhose sacred stings the piteous often feel),\nSo saw I there, but with more curious skill\nOf portraiture o'erwrought, whate'er of space\nFrom forth the mountain stretches. On one part\nHim I beheld, above all creatures erst\nCreated noblest, lightening fall from Heaven:\nOn the other side, with bolt celestial pierced,\nBriareus; cumbering earth he lay, through dint\nOf mortal ice - stroke. The Thymbraean god,[1]\nWith Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,\nArm'd still, and gazing on the giants' limbs\nStrewn o'er the ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:\nAt foot of the stupendous work he stood,\nAs if bewilder'd, looking on the crowd\nLeagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar's plain.\n\n[1: \"The Thymbraean god.\" Apollo.]\n\nO Niobe! in what a trance of woe\n\nThee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,\nSeven sons on either side thee slain. O Saul!\nHow ghastly didst thou look, on thine own sword\nExpiring, in Gilboa, from that hour\nNe'er visited with rain from heaven, or dew.\n\nO fond Arachne! thee I also saw,\nHalf spider now, in anguish, crawling up\nThe unfinish'd web thou weaved'st to thy bane.\n\nO Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem\nLouring no more defiance; but fear - smote,\nWith none to chase him, in his chariot whirl'd.\n\nWas shown beside upon the solid floor,\nHow dear Alcmaeon forced his mother rate\nThat ornament, in evil hour received:\nHow, in the temple, on Sennacherib fell\nHis sons, and how a corpse they left him there.\nWas shown the scath, and cruel mangling made\nBy Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried,\n\"Blood thou didst thirst for: take thy fill of blood.\"\nWas shown how routed in the battle fled\nThe Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e'en\nThe relics of the carnage. Troy I mark'd,\nIn ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fallen,\nHow abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there.\n\nWhat master of the pencil or the style\nHad traced the shades and lines, that might have made\nThe subtlest workman wonder? Dead, the dead;\nThe living seem'd alive: with clearer view,\nHis eye beheld not, who beheld the truth,\nThan mine what I did tread on, while I went\nLow bending. Now swell out, and with stiff necks\nPass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks,\nLest they descry the evil of your path.\n\nI noted not (so busied was my thought)\nHow much we now had circled of the mount;\nAnd of his course yet more the sun had spent;\nWhen he, who with still wakeful caution went,\nAdmonish'd: \"Raise thou up thy head: for know\nTime is not now for slow suspense. Behold,\nThat way, an Angel hasting toward us. Lo,\nWhen duly the sixth handmaid doth return\nFrom service on the day. Wear thou, in look\nAnd gesture, seemly grace of reverent awe;\nThat gladly he may forward us aloft.\nConsider that this day ne'er dawns again.\"\n\nTime's loss he had so often warn'd me 'gainst,\nI could not miss the scope at which he aim'd.\n\nThe goodly shape approach'd us, snowy white\nIn vesture, and with visage casting streams\nOf tremulous lustre like the matin star.\nHis arms he open'd, then his wings; and spake:\n\"Onward! the steps, behold, are near; and now\nThe ascent is without difficulty gain'd.\"\n\nA scanty few are they, who, when they hear\nSuch tidings, hasten. O, ye race of men!\nThough born to soar, why suffer ye a wind\nSo slight to baffle ye? He led us on\nWhere the rock parted; here, against my front,\nDid beat his wings; then promised I should fare\nIn safety on my way. As to ascend\nThat steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands,[2]\n(O'er Rubaconte, looking lordly down\nOn the well - guided city[3]), up the right\nThe impetuous rise is broken by the steps\nCarved in that old and simple age, when still\nThe registry[4] and label rested safe;\nThus is the acclivity relieved, which here,\nPrecipitous, from the other circuit falls:\nBut, on each hand, the tall cliff presses close.\n\n[2: \"The chapel stands.\" The church of San Miniato in Florence,\nsituated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it is crossed by the\nbridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer Rubaconte da Mandella, of Milan, chief\nmagistrate of Florence, by whom the bridge was founded in 1237. [The bridge is\nnow generally known as the Ponte alle Grazie. - Ed.]]\n\n[3: \"The well - guided city.\" This is said ironically of Florence.]\n\n[4: \"The registry.\" In allusion to certain instances of fraud\ncommitted in Dante's time with respect to the public accounts and measures.]\n\nAs, entering, there we turn'd, voices, in strain\nIneffable, sang: \"Blessed[5] are the poor\nIn spirit.\" Ah! how far unlike to these\n\n[5: \"Blessed.\" \"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the\nkingdom of heaven.\" Matt. v. 3.]\n\nThe straits of Hell: here songs to usher us,\nThere shrieks of woe. We climb the holy stairs:\nAnd lighter to myself by far I seem'd\nThan on the plain before; whence thus I spake:\n\"Say, master, of what heavy thing have I\nBeen lighten'd; that scarce aught the sense of toil\nAffects me journeying?\" He in few replied:\n\"When sin's broad characters,[6] that yet remain\nUpon thy temples, though well nigh effaced,\nShall be, as one is, all clean razed out;\nThen shall thy feet by heartiness of will\nBe so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel\nNo sense of labor, but delight much more\nShall wait them, urged along their upward way.\"\n\n[6: \"Sin's broad characters.\" Of the seven P's, that denoted the same\nnumber of sins (Peccata) whereof he was to be cleansed (see Canto ix. 100),\nthe first had now vanished in consequence of his having passed the place where\nthe sin of pride, the chief of them, was expiated.]\n\nThen like to one, upon whose head is placed\nSomewhat he deems not of, but from the becks\nOf others, as they pass him by; his hand\nLends therefore help to assure him, searches, finds,\nAnd well performs such office as the eye\nWants power to execute; so stretching forth\nThe fingers of my right hand, did I find\nSix only of the letters, which his sword,\nWho bare the keys, had traced upon my brow.\nThe leader, as he mark'd mine action, smiled.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 13\n\n\nCanto XIII\n\nArgument\n\nThey gain the second cornice, where the sin of envy is purged; and having\nproceeded a little to the right, they hear voices uttered by invisible spirits\nrecounting famous examples of charity, and next behold the shades, or souls,\nof the envious clad in sackcloth, and having their eyes sewed up with an iron\nthread. Amongst these Dante finds Sapia, a Siennese lady, from whom he learns\nthe cause of her being there.\n\nWe reach'd the summit of the scale, and stood\nUpon the second buttress of that mount\nWhich healeth him who climbs. A cornice there\nLike to the former, girdles round the hill;\nSave that its arch, with sweep less ample, bends.\n\nShadow, nor image there, is seen: all smooth\nThe rampart and the path, reflecting naught\nBut the rock's sullen hue. \"If here we wait,\nFor some to question,\" said the bard, \"I fear\nOur choice may haply meet too long delay.\"\n\nThen fixedly upon the sun his eyes\nHe fasten'd; made his right the central point\nFrom whence to move; and turn'd the left aside.\n\"O pleasant light, my confidence and hope!\nConduct us thou,\" he cried, \"on this new way,\nWhere now I venture; leading to the bourn\nWe seek. The universal world to thee\nOwes warmth and lustre. If no other cause\nForbid, thy beams should ever be our guide.\"\n\nFar, as in measured for a mile on earth,\nIn brief space had we journey'd; such prompt will\nImpell'd; and toward us flying, now were heard\nSpirits invisible, who courteously\nUnto love's table bade the welcome guest.\nThe voice, that first flew by, call'd forth aloud,\n\"They have no wine,\" so on behind us past,\nThose sounds reiterating, nor yet lost\nIn the faint distance, when another came\nCrying, \"I am Orestes,\"[1] and alike\nWing'd its fleet way. \"O father!\" I exclaim'd,\n\"What tongues are these?\" and as I question'd, lo!\nA third exclaiming, \"Love ye those have wrong'd you.\"\n\n[1: \"Orestes.\" Alluding to his friendship with Pylades.]\n\n\"This circuit,\" said my teacher, \"knots the scourge\nFor envy; and the cords are therefore drawn\nBy charity's correcting hand. The curb\nIs of a harsher sound; as thou shalt hear\n(If I deem rightly) ere thou reach the pass,\nWhere pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyes\nIntently through the air; and thou shalt see\nA multitude before thee seated, each\nAlong the shelving grot.\" Then more than erst\nI oped mine eyes; before me view'd; and saw\nShadows with garments dark as was the rock;\nAnd when we pass'd a little forth, I heard\n\nA crying, \"Blessed Mary! pray for us,\nMichael and Peter! all ye saintly host!\"\n\nI do not think there walks on earth this day\nMan so remorseless, that he had not yearn'd\nWith pity at the sight that next I saw.\nMine eyes a load of sorrow teem'd, when now\nI stood so near them, that their semblances\nCame clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile\nTheir covering seem'd; and, on his shoulder, one\nDid stay another, leaning; and all lean'd\nAgainst the cliff. E'en thus the blind and poor,\nNear the confessionals, to crave an alms,\nStand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk;\nSo most to stir compassion, not by sound\nOf words alone, but that which moves not less,\nThe sight of misery. And as never beam\nOf noon - day visiteth the eyeless man,\nE'en so was heaven a niggard unto these\nOf his fair light: for, through the orbs of all,\nA thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,\nAs for the taming of a haggard hawk.\nIt were a wrong, methought, to pass and look\nOn others, yet myself the while unseen.\nTo my sage counsel therefore did I turn.\nHe knew the meaning of the mute appeal,\nNor waited for my questioning, but said:\n\"Speak; and be brief, be subtile in thy words.\"\n\nOn that part of the cornice, whence no rim\nEngarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come;\nOn the other side me were the spirits, their cheeks\nBathing devout with penitential tears,\nThat through the dread impalement forced a way.\n\nI turn'd me to them, and \"O shades!\" said I,\n\"Assured that to your eyes unveil'd shall shine\nThe lofty light, sole object of your wish,\nSo may Heaven's grace clear whatsoe'er of foam\nFloats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth\nThe stream of mind roll limpid from its source;\nAs ye declare (for so shall ye impart\nA boon I dearly prize) if any soul\nOf Latium dwell among ye: and perchance\nThat soul may profit, if I learn so much.\"\n\n\"My brother! we are, each one, citizens\nOf one true city.[2] Any, thou wouldst say,\nWho lived a stranger in Italia's land.\"\n\n[2: \"_____ Citizens of one true city!\" \"For here we have no\ncontinuing city, but we seek one to come.\" - Heb. xiii. 14.]\n\nSo heard I answering, as appear'd, a voice\nThat onward came some space from whence I stood.\n\nA spirit I noted, in whose look was mark'd\nExpectance. Ask ye how? The chin was raised\nAs in one reft of sight. \"Spirit,\" said I,\n\"Who for thy rise art tutoring, (if thou be\nThat which didst answer to me), or by place,\nOr name, disclose thyself, thy I may know thee.\"\n\n\"I was,\" it answer'd, \"of Sienna: here\nI cleanse away with these the evil life,\nSoliciting with tears that He, who is,\nVouchsafe Him to us. Though Sapia[3] named,\nIn sapience I excell'd not; gladder far\nOf other's hurt, than of the good befell me.\nThat thou mayst own I now deceive thee not,\nHear, if my folly were not as I speak it.\nWhen now my tears sloped waning down the arch,\nIt so bechanced, my fellow - citizens\nNear Colle met their enemies in the field;\nAnd I pray'd God to grant what He had will'd.[4]\nThere were they vanquish'd, and betook themselves\nUnto the bitter passages of flight.\nI mark'd the hunt; and waxing out of bounds\nIn gladness, lifted up my shameless brow,\nAnd, like the merlin[5] cheated by a gleam,\nCried: 'Itcis over. Heaven! I fear thee not.'\nUpon my verge of life I wish'd for peace\nWith God; nor yet repentance had supplied\nWhat I did lack of duty, were it not\n\n[3: \"Sapia.\" A lady of Sienna, living in exile at Colle, so overjoyed\nat a defeat which her countrymen sustained near that place, that she declared\nnothing more was wanting to make her die contended.]\n\n[4: \"_____ What He had will'd.\" That her countrymen should be\ndefeated in battle.]\n\n[5: Induced by a gleam of fine weather in the winter to escape from\nhis master, the merlin was soon oppressed by the rigor of the season.]\n\nThe hermit Piero,[6] touch'd with charity,\nIn his devout orisons though on me.\nBut who art thou that question'st of our state,\nWho go'st, as I believe, with lids unclosed,\nAnd breathest in thy talk?\" - \"Mine eyes,\" said I,\n\"May yet be here ta'en from me; but not long;\nFor they have not offended grievously\nWith envious glances. But the woe beneath[7]\nUrges my soul with more exceeding dread.\nThat nether load already weighs me down.\"\n\n[6: \"The hermit Piero.\" Piero Pettinagno, a holy hermit of Florence.]\n\n[7: Dante felt that he was much more subject to the sin of pride,\nthan to that of envy.]\n\nShe thus: \"Who then, amongst us here aloft,\nHath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?\"\n\n\"He,\" answered I, \"who standeth mute beside me.\nI live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit!\nIf thou desire I yonder yet should move\nFor thee my mortal feet.\" - \"Oh!\" she replied,\n\"This is so strange a thing, it is great sign\nThat God doth love thee. Therefore with thy prayer\nSometime assist me: and, by that I crave,\nWhich most thou covetest, that if thy feet\nE'er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame\nAmongst my kindred. Them shalt thou behold\nWith that vain multitude,[8] who set their hope\nOn Telamone's haven; there to fail\nConfounded, more than when the fancied stream\nThey sought, of Dian call'd: but they, who lead\nTheir navies, more than ruin'd hopes shall mourn.\"\n\n[8: The Sienese.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 14\n\n\nCanto XIV\n\nArgument\n\nOur Poet on this second cornice finds also the souls of Guido del Duca of\nBrettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli of Romagna; the latter of whom, hearing\nthat he comes from the banks of the Arno, inveighs against the degeneracy of\nall those who dwell in the cities visited by that stream; and the former, in\nlike manner, against the inhabitants of Romagna. On leaving these, our Poets\nhear voices recording noted instances of envy.\n\n\"Say,[1] who is he around our mountain winds,\nOr ever death has pruned his wing to flight;\nThat opens his eyes, and covers them at will?\"\n\"I know not who he is, but know thus much;\nHe comes not singly. Do thou ask of him,\nFor thou art nearer to him; and take heed,\nAccost him gently, so that he may speak.\"\n\n[1: \"Say.\" The two spirits who thus speak to each other are Guido del\nDuca, of Brettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli, of Romagna.]\n\nThus on the right two spirits, bending each\nToward the other, talk'd of me; then both\nAddressing me, their faces backward lean'd,\nAnd thus the one[2] began: \"O soul, who yet\nPent in the body, tendest towards the sky!\nFor charity, we pray thee, comfort us;\nRecounting whence thou comest, and who thou art:\nFor thou dost make us, at the favor shown thee,\nMarvel, as at a thing that ne'er hath been.\"\n\n[2: \"The one.\" Guido del Duca.]\n\n\"There stretches through the midst of Tuscany,\"\nI straight began, \"a brooklet,[3] whose well - head\nSprings up in Falterona; with his race\nNot satisfied, when he some hundred miles\nHath measured. From his banks bring I this frame.\nTo tell you who I am were words mis - spent:\nFor yet my name scarce sounds on rumour's lip.\"\n\n[3: The Arno, that rises in Falterona, a mountain in the Apennines.\nIts course is 120 miles.]\n\n\"If well I do incorporate with my thought\nThe meaning of thy speech,\" said he, who first\nAddress'd me, \"thou dost speak of Arno's wave.\"\n\nTo whom the other:[4] \"Why hath he conceal'd\nThe title of that river, as a man\nDoth of some horrible thing?\" The spirit, who\n\n[4: Rinieri da Calboli.]\n\nThereof was question'd, did acquit him thus:\n\"I know not: but 'tis fitting well the name\nShould perish of that vale; for from the source,[5]\nWhere teems so plenteously the Alpine steep\nMaim'd of Pelorus, (that doth scarcely pass\nBeyond that limit), even to the point\nWhere unto ocean is restored what heaven\nDrains from the exhaustless store for all earth's streams,\nThroughout the space is virtue worried down,\nAs't were a snake, by all, for mortal foe;\nOr through disastrous influence on the place,\nOr else distortion of misguided wills\nThat custom goads to evil: whence in those,\nThe dwellers in that miserable vale,\nNature is so transform'd, it seems as they\nHad shared of Circe's feeding. 'Midst brute swine,[6]\nWorthier of acorns than of other food\nCreated for man's use, he shapeth first\nHis obscure way; then, sloping onward, finds\nCurs,[7] snarlers more in spite than power, from whom\nHe turns with scorn aside: still journeying down,\nBy how much more the curst and luckless foss[8]\nSwells out to largeness, e'en so much it finds\nDogs turning into wolves.[9] Descending still\nThrough yet more hollow eddies, next he meets\nA race of foxes,[10] so replete with craft,\nThey do not fear that skill can master it.\nNor will I cease because my words are heard[11]\nBy other ears than thine. It shall be well\nFor this man,[12] if he keep in memory\nWhat from no erring spirit I reveal.\nLo! I behold thy grandson,[13] that becomes\n\n[5: From the rise of the Arno in the Apennines, whence Pelorus in\nSicily was torn by a convulsion of the earth, even to the point where the same\nriver unites with the ocean, Virtue is persecuted by all.]\n\n[6: The people of Casentino.]\n\n[7: \"Curs.\" The Arno leaves Arezzo about four miles to the left.]\n\n[8: \"Foss.\" So in his anger he terms the Arno.]\n\n[9: \"Wolves.\" The Florentines.]\n\n[10: \"Foxes.\" The Pisans.]\n\n[11: Guido still addresses Rinieri.]\n\n[12: For Dante, who has told us that he comes from the banks of\nArno.]\n\n[13: \"Thy grandson.\" Fulcieri da Calboli, grandson of Rinieri da\nCalboli, who is here spoken to. The atrocities predicted came to pass in\n1302.]\n\nA hunter of those wolves, upon the shore\nOf the fierce stream; and cows them all with dread.\nTheir flesh, yet living, sets he up to sale,\nThen, like an aged beast, to slaughter dooms.\nMany of life he reaves, himself of worth\nAnd goodly estimation. Smear'd with gore,\nMark how he issues from the rueful wood;\nLeaving such havoc, that in thousand years\nIt spreads not to prime lustihood again.\"\n\nAs one, who tidings hears of woe to come,\nChanges his looks perturb'd, from whate'er part\nThe peril grasp him; so beheld I change\nThat spirit, who had turn'd to listen; struck\nWith sadness, soon as he had caught the word.\n\nHis visage, and the other's speech, did raise\nDesire in me to know the names of both;\nWhereof, with meek entreaty, I inquired.\n\nThe shade, who late address'd me, thus resumed:\n\"Thy wish imports, that I vouchsafe to do\nFor thy sake what thou wilt not do for mine.\nBut, since God's will is that so largely shine\nHis grace in thee, I will be liberal too.\nGuido of Duca know then that I am.\nEnvy so parch'd my blood, that had I seen\nA fellow man made joyous, thou had'st mark'd\nA livid paleness overspread my cheek.\nSuch harvest reap I of the seed I sow'd.\nO man! why place thy heart where there doth need\nExclusion of participants in good?\nThis is Rinieri's spirit; this, the boast\nAnd honour of the house of Calboli;\nWhere of his worth no heritage remains.\nNor his the only blood, that hath been stript\n('Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore[14])\nOf all that truth or fancy asks for bliss:\nBut, in those limits, such a growth has sprung\nOf rank and venom'd roots, as long would mock\nSlow culture's toil. Where is good Lizio?[15] where\n\n[14: The boundaries of Romagna.]\n\n[15: \"Lizio.\" Lizio da Valbona introduced into Boccaccio's Decameron,\nG. v. N. 4.]\n\nMainardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna?[16]\nO bastard slips of old Romagna's line!\nWhen in Bologna the low artisan,[17]\nAnd in Faenza yon Bernardin[18] sprouts,\nA gentle cyon from ignoble stem.\nWonder not, Tuscan, if thou see me weep,\nWhen I recall to mind those once loved names,\nGuido of Prata,[19] and of Azzo him[20]\nThat dwelt with us; Tignoso[21] and his troop,\nWith Traversaro's house and Anastagio's,[22]\n(Each race disherited); and beside these,\nThe ladies and the knights, the toils and ease,\nThat witch'd us into love and courtesy;\nWhere now such malice reigns in recreant hearts\nO Brettinoro![23] wherefore tarriest still,\nSince forth of thee thy family hath gone,\nAnd many, hating evil, join'd their steps?\nWell doeth he, that bids his lineage cease,\nBagnacavallo;[24] Castrocaro ill,\nAnd Conio worse,[25] who care to propagate\nA race of Counties[26] from such blood as theirs.\nWell shall ye also do, Pagani,[27] then\nWhen from amongst you hies your demon child;\nNot so, howe'er, that thenceforth there remain\n\n[16: Arrigo Manardi, of Faenza, or, as some say, of Brettinoro; Pier\nTraversaro, Lord of Ravenna; and Guido di Carpigna, of Montefeltro.]\n\n[17: One who had been a mechanic, named Lambertaccio, arrived at\nalmost supreme power in Bologna.]\n\n[18: Benardin di Fosco, a man of low origin, but great talents, who\ngoverned at Faenza.]\n\n[19: \"Prata.\" A place between Faenza and Ravenna.]\n\n[20: \"Of Azzo him.\" Ugolino, of the Ubaldini family in Tuscany.]\n\n[21: Federigo Tignoso of Rimini.]\n\n[22: Two noble families of Ravenna.]\n\n[23: \"O Brettinoro.\" A beautifully situated castle in Romagna, the\nhospitable residence of Guido del Duca, who is here speaking. Landino relates\nthat there were several of this family who, when a stranger arrived among them\ncontended with one another by whom he should be entertained; and that in order\nto end this dispute, they set up a pillar with as many rings as there were\nfather of families among them, a ring being assigned to each, and that\naccordingly as a stranger on his arrival hung his horse's bridle on one or\nother of these, he became his guest to whom the ring belonged.]\n\n[24: \"Bagnacavallo.\" A castle between Imola and Ravenna.]\n\n[25: \"- Castrocaro ill, and Conio worse.\" Both in Romagna.]\n\n[26: \"Counties.\" I have used this word here for \"counts,\" as it is in\nShakespeare.]\n\n[27: \"Pagani.\" The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola. One of\nthem, Machinardo, was named \"the Demon,\" from his treachery. See Hell, Canto\nxxvii. 47 and note.]\n\nTrue proof of what ye were. O Hugolin,[28]\nThou sprung of Fantolini's line! thy name\nIs safe; since none is look'd for after thee\nTo cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock.\nBut, Tuscan! go thy ways; for now I take\nFar more delight in weeping, than in words.\nSuch pity for your sakes hath wrung my heart.\"\n\n[28: \"Hugolin.\" Ugolino Ubaldini, a noble and virtuous person in\nFaenza, who, on account of his age probably, was not likely to leave any\noffspring behind him.]\n\nWe knew those gentle spirits, at parting, heard\nOur steps. Their silence therefore, of our way,\nAssured us. Soon as we had quitted them,\nAdvancing onward, lo! a voice, that seem'd\nLike volley'd lightning, when it rives the air,\nMet us, and shouted, \"Whosoever finds\nWill slay me\"; then fled from us, as the bolt\nLanced sudden from a downward - rushing cloud.\nWhen it had given short truce unto our hearing,\nBehold the other with a crash as loud\nAs the quick - following thunder: \"Mark in me\nAglauros, turn'd to rock.\" I, at the sound\nRetreating, drew more closely to my guide.\n\nNow in mute stillness rested all the air;\nAnd thus he spake: \"There was the galling bit,\nWhich should keep man within his boundary.\nBut your old enemy so baits the hook,\nHe drags you eager to him. Hence nor curb\nAvails you, nor reclaiming call. Heaven calls,\nAnd, round about you wheeling, courts your gaze\nWith everlasting beauties. Yet your eye\nTurns with fond doting still upon the earth.\nTherefore He smites you who discerneth all.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 15\n\n\nCanto XV\n\nArgument\n\nAn Angel invites them to ascend the next steep. On their way Dante\nsuggests certain doubts, which are resolved by Virgil; and, when they reach\nthe third cornice, where the sin of anger is purged, our Poet, in a kind of\nwaking dream, beholds remarkable instances of patience; and soon after they\nare enveloped in a dense fog.\n\nAs much as 'twixt the third hour's close and dawn,\nAppeareth of Heaven's sphere, that ever whirls\nAs restless as an infant in his play;\nSo much appear'd remaining to the sun\nOf his slope journey towards the western goal.\n\nEvening was there, and here the noon of night;\nAnd full upon our forehead smote the beams.\nFor round the mountain, circling, so our path\nHad led us, that toward the sunset now\nDirect we journey'd; when I felt a weight\nOf more exceeding splendour, than before,\nPress on my front. The cause unknown, amaze\nPossess'd me! and both hands against my brows\nLifting, I interposed them, as a screen,\nThat of its gorgeous superflux of light\nClips the diminish'd orb. As when the ray,\nStriking on water or the surface clear\nOf mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,\nAscending at a glance, e'en as it fell,\nAnd as much differs from the stone, that falls\nThrough equal space, (so practic skill hath shown);\nThus, with refracted light, before me seem'd\nThe ground there smitten; whence, in sudden haste,\nMy sight recoil'd. \"What is this, sire beloved!\n'Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?\"\nCried I, \"and which toward us moving seems?\"\n\n\"Marvel not, if the family of Heaven,\"\nHe answer'd, \"yet with dazzling radiance dim\nThy sense. It is a messenger who comes,\nInviting man's ascent. Such sights ere long,\nNot grievous, shall impart to thee delight,\nAs thy perception is by nature wrought\nUp to their pitch.\" The blessed Angel, soon\nAs we had reach'd him, hail'd us with glad voice:\n\"Here enter on a ladder far less steep\nThan ye have yet encounter'd.\" We forthwith\nAscending, heard behind us chanted sweet,\n\"Blessed the merciful,\"[1] and \"Happy thou,\nThat conquer'st.\" Lonely each, my guide and I,\nPursued our upward way; and as we went,\nSome profit from his words I hoped to win,\nAnd thus of him inquiring, framed my speech:\n\"What meant Romagna's spirit,[2] when he spake\nOf bliss exclusive, with no partner shared?\"\n\n[1: \"Blessed the merciful.\" Matt. v. 7.]\n\n[2: Guido del Duca, of Brettinoro.]\n\nHe straight replied: \"No wonder, since he knows\nWhat sorrow waits on his own worst defect,\nIf he chide others, that they less may mourn.\nBecause ye point your wishes at a mark,\nWhere, by communion of possessors, part\nIs lessen'd, envy bloweth up men's sighs.\nNo fear of that might touch ye, if the love\nOf higher sphere exalted your desire.\nFor there, by how much more they call it ours,\nSo much propriety of each in good\nIncreases more, and heighten'd charity\nWraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.\"\n\n\"Now lack I satisfaction more,\" said I,\n\"Than if thou hadst been silent at the first;\nAnd doubt more gathers on my labouring thought.\nHow can it chance, that good distributed,\nThe many, that possess it, makes more rich,\nThan if 't were shared by few?\" He answering thus:\n\"Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,\nStrikes darkness from true light. The highest Good\nUnlimited, ineffable, doth so speed\nTo love, as beam to lucid body darts,\nGiving as much of ardour as it finds.\nThe sempiternal effluence streams abroad,\nSpreading, wherever charity extends;\nSo that the more aspirants to that bliss\nAre multiplied, more good is there to love,\nAnd more is loved; as mirrors, that reflect,\n\nEach unto other, propagated light.\nIf these my words avail not to allay\nThy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,\nWho of this want, and of all else thou hast,\nShall rid thee to the full. Provide but thou,\nThat from thy temples may be soon erased,\nE'en as the two already, those five scars,\nThat, when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal.\"\n\n\"Thou,\" I had said, \"content'st me\"; when I saw\nThe other round was gain'd, and wondering eyes\nDid keep me mute. There suddenly I seem'd\nBy an ecstatic vision wrapt away;\nAnd in a temple saw, methought, a crowd\nOf many persons; and at the entrance stood\nA dame, whose sweet demeanour did express\nA mother's love, who said, \"Child! why hast thou\nDealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and I\nSorrowing have sought thee\"; and so held her peace;\nAnd straight the vision fled. A female next\nAppear'd before me, down whose visage coursed\nThose waters, that grief forces out from one\nBy deep resentment stung, who seem'd to say:\n'If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeed\nOver this city,[3] named with such debate\nOf adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,\nAvenge thee of those arms, whose bold embrace\nHath clasp'd our daughter\"; and to her, meseem'd,\nBenign and meek, with visage undisturb'd,\nHer sovran spake: \"How shall we those requite[4]\nWho wish us evil, if we thus condemn\nThe man that loves us?\" After that I saw\nA multitude, in fury burning, slay\nWith stones a stripling youth,[5] and shout amain\n\"Destroy, destroy\"; and him I saw, who bow'd\n\n[3: \"Over this city.\" Athens, named after Minerva (AONVN), in\nconsequence of her having produced a more valuable gift for it in the olive\nthan Neptune had done in the horse.]\n\n[4: \"How shall we those requite?\" The answer of Pisistratus the\ntyrant to his wife, when she urged him to inflict the punishment of death on a\nyoung man, who, inflamed with love for his daughter, had snatched a kiss from\nher in public.]\n\n[5: \"A stripling youth.\" The Protomartyr Stephen.]\n\nHeavy with death unto the ground, yet made\nHis eyes, unfolded upward, gates to Heaven,\nPraying forgiveness of the Almighty Sire,\nAmidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,\nWith looks that win compassion to their aim.\n\nSoon as my spirit, from her airy flight\nReturning, sought again the things whose truth\nDepends not on her shaping, I observed\nShe had not roved to falsehood in her dreams.\n\nMeanwhile the leader, who might see I moved\nAs one who struggles to shake off his sleep,\nExclaim'd: \"What ails thee, that thou canst not hold\nThy footing firm; but more than half a league\nHast travel'd with closed eyes and tottering gait,\nLike to a man by wine or sleep o'ercharged?\"\n\n\"Beloved father! so thou deign,\" said I,\n\"To listen, I will tell thee what appear'd\nBefore me, when so fail'd my sinking steps.\"\n\nHe thus: \"Not if thy countenance were mask'd\nWith hundred vizards, could a thought of thine,\nHow small soe'er, elude me. What thou saw'st\nWas shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heart\nTo the waters of peace, that flow diffused\nFrom their eternal fountain. I not ask'd,\nWhat ails thee? for such cause as he doth, who\nLooks only with that eye, which sees no more,\nWhen spiritless the body lies; but ask'd,\nTo give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goads,\nThe slow and loitering need; that they be found\nNot wanting, when their hour of watch returns.\"\n\nSo on we journey'd, through the evening sky\nGazing intent, far onward as our eyes,\nWith level view, could stretch against the bright\nVespertine ray: and lo! by slow degrees\nGathering, a fog made towards us, dark as night.\nThere was no room for 'scaping; and that mist\nBereft us, both of sight and the pure air.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 16\n\n\nCanto XVI\n\nArgument\n\nAs they proceed through the mist, they hear the voices of spirits\npraying. Marco Lombardo, one of these, points out to Dante the error of such\nas impute our actions to necessity; explains to him that man is endued with\nfree will; and shows that much of human depravity results from the undue\nmixture of spiritual and temporal authority in rulers.\n\nHell's dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark,\nOf every planet 'reft, and pall'd in clouds,\nDid never spread before the sight a veil\nIn thickness like that fog, nor to the sense\nSo palpable and gross. Entering its shade,\nMine eye endured not with unclosed lids;\nWhich marking, near me drew the faithful guide,\nOffering me his shoulder for a stay.\n\nAs the blind man behind his leader walks,\nLest he should err, or stumble unawares\nOn what might harm him or perhaps destroy;\nI journey'd through that bitter air and foul,\nStill listening to my escort's warning voice,\n\"Look that from me thou part not.\" Straight I heard\nVoices, and each one seem'd to pray for peace,\nAnd for compassion, to the Lamb of God\nThat taketh sins away. Their prelude still\nWas \"Agnus Dei\"; and through all the choir,\nOne voice, one measure ran, that perfect seem'd\nThe concord of their song. \"Are these I hear\nSpirits, O master?\" I exclaim'd; and he,\n\"Thou aim'st aright: these loose the bonds of wrath.\"\n\n\"Now who art thou, that through our smoke dost cleave,\nAnd speak'st of us, as thou thyself e'en yet\nDividedst time by calends?\" So one voice\nBespake me; whence my master said. \"Reply;\nAnd ask, if upward hence the passage lead.\"\n\n\"O being! who dost make thee pure, to stand\nBeautiful once more in thy Maker's sight;\nAlong with me: and thou shalt hear and wonder.\"\nThus, I whereto the spirit answering spake:\n\"Long as 'tis lawful for me, shall my steps\nFollow on thine; and since the cloudy smoke\nForbids the seeing, hearing in its stead\nShall keep us join'd.\" I then forthwith began:\n\"Yet in my mortal swathing, I ascend\nTo higher regions; and am hither come\nThorough the fearful agony of Hell.\nAnd, if so largely God hath doled His grace,\nThat, clean beside all modern precedent,\nHe wills me to behold His kingly state;\nFrom me conceal not who thou wast, ere death\nHad loosed thee; but instruct me: and instruct\nIf rightly to the pass I tend; thy words\nThe way directing, as a safe escort.\"\n\n\"I was of Lombardy, and Marco call'd:[1]\nNot inexperienced of the world, that worth\nI still affected, from which all have turn'd\nThe nerveless bow aside. Thy course tends right\nUnto the summit:\" and, replying thus,\nHe added, \"I beseech thee pray for me,\nWhen thou shalt come aloft.\" And I to him:\n\"Accept my faith for pledge I will perform\nWhat thou requirest. Yet one doubt remains,\nThat wrings me sorely, if I solve it not.\nSingly before it urged me, doubled now\nBy thine opinion, when I couple that\nWith one elsewhere declared; each strengthening other.\nThe world indeed is even so forlorn\nOf all good, as thou speak'st it, and so swarms\nWith every evil. Yet, beseech thee, point\nThe cause out to me, that myself may see,\nAnd unto others show it: for in Heaven\nOne places it, and one on earth below.\"\n\n[1: Venetian gentleman. \"Lombardo\" both was his surname and denoted\nthe country to which he belonged. G. Villani, lib. vii. cap. cxx., terms him\n\"a wise and worthy courtier.\" Benvenuto da Imola, says Landino, relates of\nhim, that being imprisoned and not able to pay his ransom, he wrote to his\nfriend Riccardo da Camino, lord of Trevigi, who raised a contribution among\nthe nobles of Lombardy; of which when Marco was informed, he wrote back with\nmuch indignation to Riccardo, that he had rather die than remain under\nobligations to so many benefactors. Riccardo then paid the whole out of his\nown purse.]\n\nThen heaving forth a deep and audible sigh,\n\"Brother!\" he thus began, \"the world is blind;\nAnd thou in truth comest from it. Ye, who live,\n\nDo so each cause refer to Heaven above,\nE'en as its motion, of necessity,\nDrew with it all that moves, If this were so,\nFree choice in you were none; nor justice would\nThere should be joy for virtue, woe for ill.\nYour movements have their primal bent from Heaven;\nNot all: yet said I all; what then ensues?\nLight have ye still to follow evil or good,\nAnd of the will free power, which, if it stand\nFirm and unwearied in Heaven's first assay,\nConquers at last, so it be cherish'd well,\nTriumphant over all. To mightier force,\nTo better nature subject, ye abide\nFree, not constrain'd by that which forms in you\nThe reasoning mind uninfluenced of the stars.\nIf then the present race of mankind err,\nSeek in yourselves the cause, and find it there;\nHerein thou shalt confess me no false spy.\n\n\"Forth from His plastic hand, who charm'd beholds\nHer image ere she yet exist, the soul\nComes like a babe, that wantons sportively,\nWeeping and laughing in its wayward moods;\nAs artless, and as ignorant of aught,\nSave that her Maker being one who dwells\nWith gladness ever, willingly she turns\nTo whate'er yields her joy. Of some slight good\nThe flavour soon she tastes; and, snared by that,\nWith fondness she pursues it; if no guide\nRecall, no rein direct her wandering course.\nHence it behoved, the law should be a curb;\nA sovereign hence behoved, whose piercing view\nMight mark at least the fortress[2] and main tower\nOf the true city. Laws indeed there are:\nBut who is he observes them? None; not he,\nWho goes before, the shepherd of the flock,\n\n[2: Justice, the most necessary virtue in the chief magistrate, as\nthe commentators for the most part explain it. See also Dante's De Monarchia,\nbook I. Yet Lombardi understands the law here spoken of to be the law of God;\n\"the sovereign,\" a spiritual ruler, and \"the true city,\" the society of true\nbelievers; so that \"the fortress,\" according to him, denotes the principal\nparts of Christian duty.]\n\nWho[3] chews the cud but doth not cleave the hoof.\nTherefore the multitude, who see their guide\nStrike at the very good they covet most,\nFeed there and look no further. Thus the cause\nIs not corrupted nature in yourselves,\nBut ill - conducting, that hath turn'd the world\nTo evil. Rome, that turn'd it unto good,\nWas wont to boast two suns,[4] whose several beams\nCast light on either way, the world's and God's.\nOne since hath quench'd the other; and the sword\nIs grafted on the crook; and, so conjoin'd,\nEach must perforce decline to worse, unawed\nBy fear of other. If thou doubt me, mark\nThe blade: each herb is judged of by its seed.\nThat land,[5] through which Adice and the Po\nTheir waters roll, was once the residence\nOf courtesy and valour, ere the day[6]\nThat frown'd on Frederick; now secure may pass\nThose limits, whosoe'er hath left, for shame,\nTo talk with good men, or come near their haunts.\nThree aged ones are still found there, in whom\nThe old time chides the new: these deem it long\nEre God restore them to a better world:\nThe good Gherardo,[7] of Palazzo he,\nConrad;[8] and Guido of Castello,[9] named\nIn Gallic phrase more fitly the plain Lombard.\nOn this at last conclude. The Church of Rome,\nMixing two governments that ill assort,\nHath miss'd her footing, fallen into the mire,\nAnd there herself and burden much defiled.\"\n\n[3: \"Who.\" He compares the Pope, on account of the union of the\ntemporal with the spiritual power in his person, to an unclean beast in the\nLevitical law. \"The camel, because he cheweth the cud, but divideth not the\nhoof.\" Levit. vi. 4.]\n\n[4: The Emperor and Bishop of Rome.]\n\n[5: \"The land.\" Lombardy.]\n\n[6: Before the Emperor Frederick II was defeated at Parma, in 1248.]\n\n[7: Gherardo da Camino, of Trevigi. He is honorably mentioned in our\nPoet's Convito, p. 173. \"Let us suppose that Gherardo da Camino had been the\ngrandson of the meanest hind that ever drank of the Sile or the Cagnano, and\nthat his grandfather was not yet forgotten; who will dare to say that Gherardo\nda Camino was a mean man, and who will not agree with me in calling him\nnoble?\"]\n\n[8: Currado da Palazzo of Brescia.]\n\n[9: Of Reggio. All the Italians were called Lombards by the French.]\n\n\"O Marco!\" I replied, \"thine arguments\nConvince me: and the cause I now discern,\nWhy of the heritage no portion came\nTo Levi's offspring. But resolve me this:\nWho that Gherardo is, that as thou say'st\nIs left a sample of the perish'd race,\nAnd for rebuke to this untoward age?\"\n\n\"Either thy words,\" said he, \"deceive, or else\nAre meant to try me; that thou, speaking Tuscan,\nAppear'st not to have heard of good Gherardo;\nThe sole addition that, by which I know him;\nUnless I borrow'd from his daughter Gaia[10]\nAnother name to grace him. God be with you.\nI bear you company no more. Behold\nThe dawn with white ray glimmering through the mist.\nI must away - the angel comes - ere he\nAppear.\" He said, and would not hear me more.\n\n[10: \"His daughter Gaia.\" A lady equally admired for her modesty, the\nbeauty of her person, and the excellency of her talents. Gaia may perhaps lay\nclaim to the praise of having been the first among the Italian ladies, by whom\nthe vernacular poetry was cultivated.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 17\n\n\nCanto XVII\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy\nrepresents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This\nimagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them\nonward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference\nis purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of\nlove, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the\nsoul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either\nin respect of object or of degree.\n\nCall to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er\nHast on an Alpine height been ta'en by cloud,\nThrough which thou saw'st no better than the mole\nDoth through opacous membrane; then, whene'er\nThe watery vapours dense began to melt\nInto thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere\nSeem'd wading through them: so thy nimble thought\nMay image, how at first I rebeheld\nThe sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.\n\nThus, with my leader's feet still equaling pace,\nFrom forth that could I came, when now expired\n\nThe parting beams from off the nether shores.\n\nO quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost\nSo rob us of ourselves, we take no mark\nThough round about us thousand trumpets clang;\nWhat moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light\nMoves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self - inform'd;\nOr, likelier, gliding down with swift illapse\nBy will divine. Portray'd before me came\nThe traces of her dire impiety,\nWhose form was changed into the bird, that most\nDelights itself in song:[1] and here my mind\nWas inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place\nTo aught that ask'd admittance from without.\nNext shower'd into my fantasy a shape\nAs of one crucified, whose visage spake\nFell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;\nAnd round him Ahasuerus the great king;\nEsther his bride; and Mordecai the just,\nBlameless in word and deed. As of itself\nThat unsubstantial coinage of the brain\nBurst, like a bubble, when the water fails\nThat fed it; in my vision straight uprose\nA damsel[2] weeping loud, and cried, \"O queen!\nO mother! wherefore has intemperate ire\nDriven thee to loathe thy being? Not to lose\nLavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.\nNow hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears\nMourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end.\"\n\n[1: I cannot think, with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant.\nDante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer's\n\"Odyssey,\" b. xix. 518. Philomela intended to slay the son of her husband's\nbrother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children,\nwhile herself had only two, but through mistake slew her own son Itylus, and\nfor her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.]\n\n[2: Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief\nand indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself.]\n\nE'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly\nNew radiance strikes upon the closed lids,\nThe broken slumber quivering ere it dies;\nThus, from before me, sunk that imagery,\nVanishing, soon as on my face there struck\nThe light, outshining far our earthly beam.\n\nAs round I turn'd me to survey what place\nI had arrived at, \"Here ye mount\": exclaim'd\nA voice, that other purpose left me none\nSave will so eager to behold who spake,\nI could not chuse but gaze. As 'fore the sun,\nThat weighs our vision down, and veils his form\nIn light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'd\nUnequal. \"This is Spirit from above,\nWho marshals us our upward way, unsought;\nAnd in his own light shrouds him. As a man\nDoth for himself, so now is done for us.\nFor whoso waits imploring, yet sees need\nOf his prompt aidance, sets himself prepared\nFor blunt denial, ere the suit be made.\nRefuse we not to lend a ready foot\nAt such inviting: haste we to ascend,\nBefore it darken: for we may not then,\nTill morn again return.\" So spake my guide;\nAnd to one ladder both address'd our steps;\nAnd the first stair approaching, I perceived\nNear me as't were the waving of a wing,\nThat fann'd my face, and whisper'd: \"Blessed they,\nThe peace - makers: they know not evil wrath.\"\n\nNow to such height above our heads were raised\nThe last beams, follow'd close by hooded night,\nThat many a star on all sides through the gloom\nShone out. \"Why partest from me, O my strength?\"\nSo with myself I communed; for I felt\nMy o'ertoil'd sinews slacken. We had reach'd\nThe summit, and were fix'd like to a bark\nArrived at land. And waiting a short space,\nIf aught should meet mine ear in that new round,\nThen to my guide I turn'd, and said: \"Loved sire!\nDeclare what guilt is on this circle purged.\nIf our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause.\"\n\nHe thus to me: \"The love of good, whate'er\nWanted of just proportion, here fulfils.\nHere plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.\nBut that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,\nGive ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull\nSome fruit may please thee well, from this delay.\n\n\"Creator, nor created being, e'er,\nMy son,\" he thus began, \"was without love,\nOr natural, or the free spirit's growth,\nThou hast not that to learn. The natural still\nIs without error: but the other swerves,\nIf on ill object bent, or through excess\nOf vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks\nThe primal blessings,[3] or with measure due\nThe inferior,[4] no delight, that flows from it,\nPartakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,\nOr with more ardour than behoves, or less,\nPursue the good; the thing created then\nWorks 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer\nThat love is germin of each virtue in ye,\nAnd of each act no less, that merits pain.\nNow[5] since it may not be, but love intend\nThe welfare mainly of the thing it loves,\nAll from self - hatred are secure; and since\nNo being can be thought to exist apart,\nAnd independent of the first, a bar\nOf equal force restrains from hating that.\n\n[3: \"The primal blessings.\" Spiritual good.]\n\n[4: \"The inferior.\" Temporal good.]\n\n[5: \"Now.\" \"It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself, or\nto hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore rejoice\nonly in the evil which befalls others.\"]\n\n\"Grant the distinction just; and it remains\nThe evil must be another's, which is loved.\nThree ways such love is gender'd in your clay.\nThere is[6] who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest)\nPre - eminence himself; and covets hence,\nFor his own greatness, that another fall.\nThere is[7] who so much fears the loss of power,\nFame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount\nAbove him), and so sickens at the thought,\nHe loves their opposite: and there is he,[8]\nWhom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame,\nThat he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needs\nMust dote on other's evil. Here beneath,\n\n[6: \"There is.\" The proud.]\n\n[7: There is.\" The envious.]\n\n[8: \"There is he.\" The resentful.]\n\nThis threefold love is mourn'd. Of the other sort\nBe now instructed; that which follows good,\nBut with disorder'd and irregular course.\n\n\"All indistinctly apprehend a bliss,\nOn which the soul may rest; the hearts of all\nYearn after it; and to that wished bourn\nAll therefore strive to tend. If ye behold,\nOr seek it, with a love remiss and lax;\nThis cornice, after just repenting, lays\nIts penal torment on ye. Other good\nThere is, where man finds not his happiness:\nIt is not true fruition; not that blest\nEssence, of every good the branch and root.\nThe love too lavishly bestow'd on this,\nAlong three circles over us, is mourn'd.\nAccount of that division tripartite\nExpect not, fitter for thine own research.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 18\n\n\nCanto XVIII\n\nArgument\n\nVirgil discourses further concerning the nature of love. Then a multitude\nof spirits rush by; two of whom, in van of the rest, record instances of zeal\nand fervent affection, and another, who was Abbot of San Zeno in Verona,\ndeclares himself to Virgil and Dante; and lastly follow other spirits,\nshouting forth memorable examples of the sin for which they suffer. The Poet,\npursuing his meditations, falls into a dreamy slumber.\n\nThe teacher ended, and his high discourse\nConcluding, earnest in my looks inquired\nIf I appear'd content; and I, whom still\nUnsated thirst to hear him urged, was mute,\nMute outwardly, yet inwardly I said:\n\"Perchance my too much questioning offends.\"\nBut he, true father, mark'd the secret wish\nBy diffidence restrain'd; and, speaking, gave\nMe boldness thus to speak: \"Master! my sight\nGathers so lively virtue from thy beams,\nThat all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.\nWherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heart\nHolds dearest, thou wouldst deign by proof t' unfold\nThat love, from which, as from their source, thou bring'st\nAll good deeds and their opposite.\" He then:\n\"To what I now disclose be thy clear ken\nDirected; and thou plainly shalt behold\nHow much those blind have err'd, who make themselves\nThe guides of men. The soul, created apt\nTo love, moves versatile which way soe'er\nAught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is waked\nBy pleasure into act. Of substance true\nYour apprehension forms its counterfeit;\nAnd, in you the ideal shape presenting,\nAttracts the soul's regard. If she, thus drawn,\nIncline toward it; love is that inclining,\nAnd a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.\nThen, as the fire points up, and mounting seeks\nHis birth - place and his lasting seat, e'en thus\nEnters the captive soul into desire,\nWhich is a spiritual motion, that ne'er rests\nBefore enjoyment of the thing it loves.\nEnough to show thee, how the truth from those\nIs hidden, who aver all love a thing\nPraiseworthy in itself; although perhaps\nIts matter seem still good. Yet if the wax\nBe good, it follows not the impression must.\"\n\n\"What love is,\" I return'd, \"thy words, O guide!\nAnd my own docile mind, reveal. Yet thence\nNew doubts have sprung. For, from without, if love\nBe offered to us, and the spirit knows\nNo other footing; tend she right or wrong,\nIs no desert of hers.\" He answering thus:\n\"What reason here discovers, I have power\nTo show thee: that which lies beyond, expect\nFrom Beatrice, faith not reason's task.\nSpirit, substantial form, with matter join'd,\nNot in confusion mix'd, hath in itself\nSpecific virtue of that union born,\nWhich is not felt except it work, nor proved\nBut through effect, as vegetable life\nBy the green leaf. From whence his intellect\nDeduced its primal notices of things,\nMan therefore knows not, or his appetites\nTheir first affections; such in you, as zeal\nIn bees to gather honey; at the first,\nVolition, meriting nor blame nor praise.\nBut o'er each lower faculty supreme,\nThat, as she list, are summon'd to her bar,\nYe have that virtue[1] in you, whose just voice\nUttereth counsel, and whose word should keep\nThe threshold of assent. Here is the source,\nWhence cause of merit in you is derived;\nE'en as the affections, good or ill, she takes,\nOr severs, winnow'd as the chaff. Those men,[2]\nWho, reasoning, went to depth profoundest, mark'd\nThat innate freedom; and were thence induced\nTo leave their moral teaching to the world.\nGrant then, that from necessity arise\nAll love that glows within you; to dismiss\nOr harbour it, the power is in yourselves.\nRemember, Beatrice, in her style,\nDenominates free choice by eminence\nThe noble virtue; if in talk with thee\nShe touch upon that theme.\" The moon, well nigh\nTo midnight hour belated, made the stars\nAppear to wink and fade; and her broad disk\nSeem'd like a crag on fire, as up the vault[3]\nThat course she journey'd, which the sun then warms\nWhen they of Rome behold him at his set\nBetwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.\nAnd now the weight, that hung upon my thought,\nWas lighten'd by the aid of that clear spirit,\nWho raiseth Andes[4] above Mantua's name.\nI therefore, when my questions had obtain'd\nSolution plain and ample, stood as one\nMusing in dreamy slumber; but not long\nSlumber'd; for suddenly a multitude,\nThe steep already turning from behind,\n\n[1: \"That virtue.\" Reason.]\n\n[2: \"Those men.\" The great moral philosophers among the heathen.]\n\n[3: \"Up the vault.\" The moon passed with a motion opposite to that of\nthe heavens, through the constellation of the Scorpion, in which the sun is,\nwhen to those who are in Rome he appears to set between the isles of Corsica\nand Sardinia.]\n\n[4: \"Andes.\" Andes, now Pietola, made more famous than Mantua, near\nwhich it is situated, by having been the birthplace of Virgil.]\n\nRush'd on. With fury and like random rout,\nAs echoing on their shores at midnight heard\nIsmenus and Asopus,[5] for his Thebes\nIf Bacchus' help were needed; so came these\nTumultuous, curving each his rapid step,\nBy eagerness impell'd of holy love.\n\n[5: \"Ismenus and Asopus.\" Rivers near Thebes.]\n\nSoon they o'ertook us; with such swiftness moved\nThe mighty crowd. Two spirits at their head\nCried, weeping, \"Blessed Mary[6] sought with haste\nThe hilly region. Caesar,[7] to subdue\nIlerda, darted in Marseilles his sting,\nAnd flew to Spain.\" - \"Oh, tarry not: away!\"\nThe others shouted; \"let not time be lost\nThrough slackness of affection. Hearty zeal\nTo serve reanimates celestial grace.\"\n\n[6: And Mary arose in those days, and went into the hill country with\nhaste, into a city of Judah; and entered into the house of Zacharias and\nsaluted Elisabeth.\" - Luke i. 39.]\n\n[7: Caesar left Brutus to complete the siege of Marseilles, and\nhastened on to the attack of Afranius and Petreius, the generals of Pompey, at\nIlerda (Lerida) in Spain.]\n\n\"O ye! in whom intenser fervency\nHaply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail'd,\nSlow or neglectful, to absolve your part\nOf good and virtuous; this man, who yet lives,\n(Credit my tale, though strange,) desires to ascend,\nSo morning rise to light us. Therefore say\nWhich hand leads nearest to the rifted rock.\"\n\nSo spake my guide; to whom a shade return'd:\n\"Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.\nWe may not linger: such resistless will\nSpeeds our unwearied course. Vouchsafe us then\nThy pardon, if our duty seem to thee\nDiscourteous rudeness. In Verona I\nWas Abbot[8] of San Zeno, when the hand\nOf Barbarossa grasp'd imperial sway,\nThat name ne'er utter'd without tears in Milan.\nAnd there is he,[9] hath one foot in his grave,\n\n[8: Alberto, Abbot of San Zeno in Verona, when Frederick I was\nEmperor, by whom Milan was besieged and reduced to ashes, in 1162.]\n\n[9: \"There is he.\" Alberto della Scala, Lord of Verona, who had made\nhis natural son Abbot of San Zeno.]\n\nWho for that monastery ere long shall weep,\nRuing his power misused: for that his son,\nOf body ill compact, and worse in mind,\nAnd born in evil, he hath set in place\nOf its true pastor.\" Whether more he spake,\nOr here was mute, I know not: he had sped\nE'en now so far beyond us. Yet thus much\nI heard, and in remembrance treasured it.\n\nHe then, who never fail'd me at my need,\nCried, \"Hither turn. Lo! two with sharp remorse\nChiding their sin.\" In rear of all the troop\nThese shouted: \"First they died,[10] to whom the sea\nOpen'd, or ever Jordan saw his heirs:\nAnd they,[11] who with Aeneas to the end\nEndured not suffering, for their portion chose\nLife without glory.\" Soon as they had fled\nPast reach of sight, new thought within me rose\nBy others follow'd fast, and each unlike\nIts fellow: till led on from thought to thought,\nAnd pleasured with the fleeting train, mine eye\nWas closed, and meditation changed to dream.\n\n[10: \"First they died.\" The Israelites, who on account of their\ndisobedience died before reaching the promised land.]\n\n[11: \"And they.\" Those Trojans, who wearied with their voyage, chose\nrather to remain in Sicily with Acestes than accompany Aeneas to Italy.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 19\n\n\nCanto XIX\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet, after describing his dream, relates how, at the summoning of an\nAngel, he ascends with Virgil to the fifth cornice, where the sin of avarice\nis cleansed, and where he finds Pope Adrian the fifth.\n\nIt was the hour,[1] when of diurnal heat\nNo reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,\nO'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway\nOf Saturn; and the geomancer[2] sees\nHis Greater Fortune up the east ascend,\nWhere gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone,\n\n[1: \"The hour.\" Near the dawn.]\n\n[2: \"The geomancer.\" The geomancers, when they divined, drew a figure\nconsisting of sixteen marks, named from so many stars which constitute the end\nof Aquarius and the beginning of Pisces. One of these they called \"the greater\nfortune.\"]\n\nWhen, 'fore me in my dream, a woman's shape[3]\nThere came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,\nDistorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.\n\n[3: \"A woman's shape.\" Worldly happiness. This allegory reminds us of\nthe \"Choice of Hercules.\"]\n\nI look'd upon her: and, as sunshine cheers\nLimbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my look\nUnloosed her tongue; next, in brief space, her form\nDecrepit raised erect, and faded face\nWith love's own hue illumed. Recovering speech,\nShe forthwith, warbling, such a strain began,\nThat I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have held\nAttention from the song. \"I,\" thus she sang,\n\"I am the Syren, she, whom mariners\nOn the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear;\nSuch fullness of delight the listener feels.\nI, from his course, Ulysses[4] by my lay\nEnchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once,\nParts seldom: so I charm him, and his heart\nContented knows no void.\" Or ere her mouth\nWas closed, to shame her, at my side appear'd\nA dame[5] of semblance holy. With stern voice\nShe utter'd: \"Say, O Virgil! who is this?\"\nWhich hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bent\nToward that goodly presence: the other seized her,\nAnd, her robes tearing, open'd her before,\nAnd show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,\nExhaling loathsome, waked me. Round I turn'd\nMine eyes: and thus the teacher: \"At the least\nThree times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone.\nLet us the opening find where thou mayst pass.\"\n\n[4: \"Ulysses.\" It is not easy to determine why Ulysses, contrary to\nthe authority of Homer, is said to have been drawn aside from his course by\nthe song of the Siren. No improbable way of accounting for the contradiction\nis, to suppose that she is here represented as purposely deviating from the\ntruth. Or Dante may have followed some legend of the Middle Ages.]\n\n[5: \"A dame.\" Philosophy, or perhaps Truth.]\n\nI straightway rose. Now day, pour'd down from high,\nFill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;\nAnd, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smote\nThe early ray. I follow'd, stooping low\nMy forehead, as a man, o'ercharged with thought,\n\nWho bends him to the likeness of an arch\nThat midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,\n\"Come, enter here,\" in tone so soft and mild,\nAs never met the ear on mortal strand.\n\nWith swan - like wings dispred and pointing up,\nWho thus had spoken marshal'd us along,\nWhere, each side of the solid masonry,\nThe sloping walls retired; then moved his plumes,\nAnd fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn,[6]\nAre blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.\n\n[6: \"Who mourn.\" \"Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be\ncomforted.\" - Matt. v. 4]\n\n\"What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?\"\nBegan my leader; while the angelic shape\nA little over us his station took.\n\n\"New vision,\" I replied, \"hath raised in me\nSurmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereon\nMy soul int nt allows no other thought\nOr room, or entrance.\" - \"Hast thou seen,\" said he\n\"That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone\nThe spirits o'er us weep for? Hast thou seen\nHow man may free him of her bonds? Enough.\nLet thy heels spurn the earth; and thy raised ken\nFix on the lure, which Heaven's eternal King\nWhirls in the rolling spheres.\" As on his feet\nThe falcon first looks down, then to the sky\nTurns, and forth stretches eager for the food,\nThat woos him thither; so the call I heard:\nSo onward, far as the dividing rock\nGave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.\n\nOn the fifth circle when I stood at large,\nA race appear'd before me, on the ground\nAll downward lying prone and weeping sore.\n\"My soul hath cleaved to the dust,\" I heard\nWith sighs so deep, they well nigh choked the words.\n\n\"O ye elect of God! whose penal woes\nBoth hope and justice mitigate, direct\nTowards the steep rising our uncertain way.\"\n\n\"If ye approach secure from this our doom,\nProstration, and would urge your course with speed,\n\nSee that ye still to rightward keep the brink.\"\n\nSo them the bard besought; and such the words,\nBeyond us some short space, in answer came.\n\nI noted what remain'd yet hidden from them:[7]\nThence to my liege's eyes mine eyes I bent,\nAnd he, forthwith interpreting their suit,\nBeckon'd his glad assent. Free then to act\nAs pleased me, I drew near, and took my stand\nOver that shade whose words I late had mark'd.\nAnd, \"Spirit!\" I said, \"in whom repentant tears\nMature that blessed hour when thou with God\nShalt find acceptance, for a while suspend\nFor me that mightier care. Say who thou wast;\nWhy thus ye grovel on your bellies prone;\nAnd if, in aught, ye wish my service there,\nWhence living I am come.\" He answering spake:\n\"The cause why Heaven our back towards his cope\nReverses, shalt thou know: but me know first,\nThe successor of Peter,[8] and the name\nAnd title of my lineage, from that stream[9]\nThat 'twixt Chiaveri and Siestri draws\nHis limpid waters through the lowly glen.\nA month and little more by proof I learnt,\nWith what a weight that robe of sovereignty\nUpon his shoulder rests, who from the mire\nWould guard it; that each other fardel seems\nBut feathers in the balance. Late, alas!\nWas my conversion: but, when I became\nRome's pastor, I discerned at once the dream\nAnd cozenage of life; saw that the heart\nRested not there, and yet no prouder height\nLured on the climber: whereof, of that life\nNo more enamor'd, in my bosom love\nOf purer being kindled. For till then\n\n[7: \"I noted what remain'd yet hidden from them.\" They were ignorant,\nit appeared, whether Dante was come there to be purged of his sins.]\n\n[8: \"The successor of Peter.\" Ottobuono, of the family of Fieschi,\nCounts of Lavagno, died thirty - nine days after he became Pope, with the\ntitle of Adrian V, in 1276.]\n\n[9: \"That stream.\" The river Lavagno, in the Genoese territory; to\nthe east of which territory are situated Siestri and Chiaveri.]\n\nI was a soul in misery, alienate\nFrom God, and covetous of all earthly things;\nNow, as thou seest, here punish'd for my doting.\nSuch cleansing from the taint of avarice,\nDo spirits, converted, need. This mount inflicts\nNo direr penalty. E'en as our eyes\nFasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier clime\nWere lifted; thus hath justice level'd us,\nHere on the earth. As avarice quench'd our love\nOf good, without which is no working; thus\nHere justice holds us prison'd, hand and foot\nChain'd down and bound, while Heaven's just Lord shall please,\nSo long to tarry, motionless, outstretch'd.\"\n\nMy knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke; but he,\nEre my beginning, by his ear perceived\nI did him reverence; and \"What cause,\" said he,\n\"Hath bow'd thee thus?\" - \"Compunction,\" I rejoin'd,\n\"And inward awe of your high dignity.\"\n\n\"Up,\" he exclaim'd, \"brother! upon thy feet\nArise; err not: thy fellow - servant I,\n(Thine and all others') of one Sovran Power.\nIf thou hast ever mark'd those holy sounds\nOf gospel truth, 'nor shall be given in marriage,'\nThou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.\nGo thy ways now; and linger here no more.\nThy tarrying is a let unto the tears,\nWith which I hasten that whereof thou spakest.\nI have on earth a kinswoman;[10] her name\nAlagia, worthy in herself, so ill\nExample of our house corrupt her not:\nAnd she is all remaineth of me there.\"\n\n[10: \"A kinswoman.\" Alagia is said to have been the wife of the\nMarchese Marcello Malaspina, one of the Poet's protectors during his exile.\nSee Canto viii. 133.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 20\n\n\nCanto XX\n\nArgument\n\nAmong those of the fifth cornice, Hugh Capet records illustrious examples\nof voluntary poverty and of bounty; then tells who himself is, and speaks of\nhis descendants on the French throne; and, lastly, adds some noted instances\nof avarice. When he has ended, the mountain shakes, and all the spirits sing\n\"Glory to God.\"\n\nIll strives the will, 'gainst will more wise that strives:\nHis pleasure therefore to mine own preferr'd,\nI drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.\nOnward I moved: he also onward moved,\nWho led me, coasting still, wherever place\nAlong the rock was vacant; as a man\nWalks near the battlements on narrow wall.\nFor those on the other part, who drop by drop\nWring out their all - infecting malady,\nToo closely press the verge. Accurst be thou,\nInveterate wolf![1] whose gorge ingluts more prey,\nThan every beast beside, yet is not fill'd;\nSo bottomless thy maw. Ye spheres of Heaven!\nTo whom there are, as seems, who attribute\nAll change in mortal state, when is the day\nOf his appearing,[2] for whom fate reserves\nTo chase her hence? With wary steps and slow\nWe pass'd; and I attentive to the shades,\nWhom piteously I heard lament and wail;\nAnd, 'midst the wailing, one before us heard\nCry out \"O blessed Virgin!\" as a dame\nIn the sharp pangs of childbed; and \"How poor\nThou wast,\" it added, \"witness that low roof\nWhere thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.\nO good Fabricius! thou didst virtue choose\nWith poverty, before great wealth with vice.\"\n\n[1: \"Wolf.\" Avarice.]\n\n[2: He is thought to allude to Can Grande della Scala. See Hell,\nCanto i. 98.]\n\nThe words so pleased me, that desire to know\nThe spirit, from whose lip they seem'd to come,\nDid draw me onward. Yet it spake the gift\nOf Nicholas,[3] which on the maidens he\n\n[3: An angel having revealed to him that the father of a family was\nso impoverished as to resolve on exposing the chastity of his three daughters\nto sale, Nicholas threw in at the window of their house three bags of money,\ncontaining a sufficient portion for each of them.]\n\nBounteous bestow'd, to save their youthful prime\nUnblemish'd. \"Spirit! who dost speak of deeds\nSo worthy, tell me who thou wast,\" I said,\n\"And why thou dost with single voice renew\nMemorial of such praise. That boon vouchsafed\nHaply shall meet reward; if I return\nTo finish the short pilgrimage of life,\nStill speeding to its close on restless wing.\"\n\n\"I,\" answer'd he, \"will tell thee; not for help,\nWhich thence I look for; but that in thyself\nGrace so exceeding shines, before thy time\nOf mortal dissolution. I was root[4]\nOf that ill plant, whose shade such poison sheds\nO'er all the Christian land, that seldom thence\nGood fruit is gather'd. Vengeance soon should come,\nHad Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power;[5]\nAnd vengeance I of Heaven's great Judge implore.\nHugh Capet was I hight: from me descend\nThe Philips and the Louis, of whom France\nNewly is govern'd: born of one, who plied\nThe slaughterer's trade[6] at Paris. When the race\nOf ancient kings had vanish'd (all save one[7]\nWrapt up in sable weeds) within my gripe\nI found the reins of empire, and such powers\nOf new acquirement, with full store of friends,\nThat soon the widow'd circlet of the crown\nWas girt upon the temples of my son,[8]\nHe, from whose bones the anointed race begins.\n\n[4: \"Root.\" Hugh Capet, ancestor of Philip IV.]\n\n[5: These cities had lately been seized by Philip IV. The spirit\nintimates the approaching defeat of the French army by the Flemings, in the\nbattle of Courtrai, which happened in 1302.]\n\n[6: \"The slaughterer's trade.\" This reflection on the birth of his\nancestor induced Francis I to forbid the reading of Dante in his dominions.\nHugh Capet, who came to the throne of France in 987, was, however, the\ngrandson of Robert, who was the brother of Eudes, King of France in 888; and\nit may, therefore, well be questioned whether by Beccaio di Parigi is meant\nliterally one who carried on the trade of a butcher, at Paris, and whether the\nsanguinary disposition of Hugh Capet's father is not stigmatized by this\nopprobrious appellation.]\n\n[7: The posterity of Charlemain, the second race of French monarchs,\nhad failed, with the exception of Charles of Lorraine, who is said, on account\nof the melancholy temper of his mind, to have always clothed himself in black.\nVenturi suggests that Dante may have confounded him with Childeric III, the\nlast of the Merovingian, or first, race, who was deposed and made a monk in\n751.]\n\n[8: Hugh Capet caused his son Robert to be crowned at Orleans.]\n\nTill the great dower of Provence[9] had removed\nThe stains, that yet obscured our lowly blood,\nIts sway indeed was narrow; but howe'er\nIt wrought no evil: there, with force and lies,\nBegan its rapine: after, for amends,\nPoitou it seized, Navarre and Gascony.\nTo Italy came Charles; and for amends,\nYoung Conradine,[10] an innocent victim, slew;\nAnd sent the angelic teacher[11] back to Heaven,\nStill for amends. I see the time at hand,\nThat forth from France invites another Charles[12]\nTo make himself and kindred better known.\nUnarm'd he issues, saving with that lance,\nWhich the arch - traitor tilted with,[13] and that\nHe carries with so home a thrust, as rives\nThe bowels of poor Florence. No increase\nOf territory hence, but sin and shame\nShall be his guerdon; and so much the more\nAs he more lightly deems of such foul wrong.\nI see the other[14] (who a prisoner late\n\n[9: \"The great dower of Provence.\" Louis IX and his brother Charles\nof Anjou married two of the four daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of\nProvence. See Paradise, c. vi. 135.]\n\n[10: \"Young Conradine.\" Charles of Anjou put Conradino to death in\n1268, and became King of Naples.]\n\n[11: \"The angelic teacher.\" Thomas Aquinas. He was reported to have\nbeen poisoned by a physician, who wished to ingratiate himself with Charles of\nAnjou. \"In the year 1323, at the end of July, by the said Pope John and by his\ncardinals, was canonized at Avignon, Thomas Aquinas, of the order of Saint\nDominic, a master in divinity and philosophy. A man most excellent in all\nscience, and who expounded the sense of Scripture better than anyone since the\ntime of Augustin. He lived in the time of Charles I, King of Sicily; and going\nto the council at Lyons, it is said that he was killed by a physician of the\nsaid king, who put poison for him into some sweetmeats, thinking to ingratiate\nhimself with King Charles, because he was of the lineage of the Lords of\nAquino, who had rebelled against the king, and doubting lest he should be made\ncardinal; whence the Church of God received great damage. He died at the abbey\nof Fossanova, in Campagna.\" G. Villani, lib. ix.]\n\n[12: \"Another Charles.\" Charles of Valois, brother of Philip IV, was\nsent by Pope Boniface VIII to settle the disturbed state of Florence. In\nconsequence of the measures he adopted for that purpose, our Poet and his\nfriends were condemned to exile and death.]\n\n[13: \"_______ with that lance.\" If I remember right, in one of the\nold romances, Judas is represented tilting with our Saviour.]\n\n[14: \"The other.\" Charles, King of Naples, the eldest son of Charles\nof Anjou, having, contrary to the directions of his father, engaged with\nRuggieri de Lauria, the admiral of Peter of Arragon, was made prisoner, and\ncarried into Sicily, June, 1284. He afterward, in consideration of a large sum\nof money, married his daughter to Azzo VIII, Marquis of Ferrara.]\n\nHad stept on shore) exposing to the mart\nHis daughter, whom he bargains for, as do\nThe Corsairs for their slaves. O avarice!\nWhat canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood\nSo wholly to thyself, they feel no care\nOf their own flesh? To hide with direr guilt\nPast ill and future, lo! the flower - de - luce[15]\nEnters Alagna; in his Vicar Christ\nHimself a captive, and his mockery\nActed again. Lo! to his holy lip\nThe vinegar and gall once more applied;\nAnd he 'twixt living robbers doom'd to bleed.\nLo! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty\nSuch violence cannot fill the measure up,\nWith no decree to sanction, pushes on\nInto the temple[16] his yet eager sails.\n\n[15: \"The flower-de-luce.\" Boniface VIII was seized at Alagna in\nCampagna, by the order of Philip IV, in the year 1303, and soon after died of\ngrief. G. Villani, lib. viii. cap. lxiii. \"As it pleased God, the heart of\nBoniface being petrified with grief, through the injury he had sustained, when\nhe came to Rome, he fell into a strange malady, for he gnawed himself as one\nfrantic, and in this state expired.\" His character is strongly drawn by the\nannalist in the next chapter. Thus, says Landino, was verified the prophecy of\nCelestine respecting him, that he should enter on the popedom like a fox,\nreign like a lion, and die like a dog.]\n\n[16: It is uncertain whether our Poet alludes still to the event\nmentioned in the preceding note, or to the destruction of the order of the\nTemplars in 1310, but the latter appears more probable.]\n\n\"O sovran Master! when shall I rejoice\nTo see the vengeance, which Thy wrath, well - pleased,\nIn secret silence broods? - While daylight lasts,\nSo long what thou didst hear of her, sole spouse\nOf the Great Spirit, and on which thou turn'dst\nTo me for comment, is the general theme\nOf all our prayers; but, when it darkens, then\nA different strain we utter; then record\nPygmalion, whom his gluttonous thirst of gold\nMade traitor, robber, parricide: the woes\nOf Midas, which his greedy wish ensued,\nMark'd for derision to all future times:\nAnd the fond Achan,[17] how he stole the prey,\nThat yet he seems by Joshua's ire pursued.\nSapphira with her husband next we blame;\nAnd praise the forefeet, that with furious ramp\n\n[17: \"Achan.\" Joshua vii.]\n\nSpurn'd Heliodorus.[18] All the mountain round\nRings with the infamy of Thracia's king,[19]\nWho slew his Phrygian charge: and last a shout\nAscends: 'Declare, O Crassus![20] for thou know'st,\nThe flavour of thy gold.' The voice of each\nNow high, now low, as each his impulse prompts,\nIs led through many a pitch, acute or grave.\nTherefore, not singly, I erewhile rehearsed\nThat blessedness we tell of in the day:\nBut near me, none, beside, his accent raised.\"\n\n[18: \"Heliodorus.\" \"For there appeared unto them an horse, with a\nterrible rider upon him, and adorned with a very fair covering, and he ran\nfiercely and smote at Heliodorus with his fore feet.\" 2 Maccabees iii. 25.]\n\n[19: \"Thracia's king.\" Polymnestor, the murderer of Polydorus. Hell,\nCanto xxx. 19.]\n\n[20: \"Crassus.\" Marcus Crassus, who fell miserably in the Parthian\nwar.]\n\nFrom him we now had parted, and essay'd\nWith utmost efforts to surmount the way;\nWhen I did feel, as nodding to its fall,\nThe mountain tremble; whence an icy chill\nSeized on me, as on one to death convey'd.\nSo shook not Delos, when Latona there\nCouch'd to bring forth the twin - born eyes of Heaven.\n\nForthwith from every side a shout arose\nSo vehement, that suddenly my guide\nDrew near, and cried: \"Doubt not, while I conduct thee.\"\n\"Glory!\" all shouted (such the sounds mine ear\nGather'd from those, who near me swell'd the sounds),\n\"Glory in the highest be to God.\" We stood\nImmovably suspended, like to those,\nThe shepherds, who first heard in Bethlehem's field\nThat song: till ceased the trembling, and the song\nWas ended: then our hallow'd path resumed,\nEying the prostrate shadows, who renew'd\nTheir custom'd mourning. Never in my breast\nDid ignorance so struggle with desire\nOf knowledge, if my memory do not err,\nAs in that moment; nor through haste dared I\nTo question, nor myself could aught discern.\nSo on I fared, in thoughtfulness and dread.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 21\n\n\nCanto XXI\n\nArgument\n\nThe two Poets are overtaken by the spirit of Statius, who, being\ncleansed, is on his way to Paradise, and who explains the cause of the\nmountain shaking, and of the hymn; his joy at beholding Virgil.\n\nThe natural thirst, ne'er quench'd but from the well[1]\nWhereof the woman of Samaria craved,\nExcited; haste, along the cumber'd path,\nAfter my guide, impell'd; and pity moved\nMy bosom for the 'vengeful doom though just.\nWhen lo! even as Luke[2] relates, that Christ\nAppear'd unto the two upon their way,\nNew - risen from His vaulted grave; to us\nA shade appear'd, and after us approach'd,\nContemplating the crowd beneath its feet.\nWe were not ware of it; so first it spake,\nSaying, \"God give you peace, my brethren!\" then\nSudden we turn'd: and Virgil such salute,\nAs fitted that kind greeting, gave; and cried:\n\"Peace in the blessed council be thy lot,\nAwarded by that righteous court which me\nTo everlasting banishment exiles.\"\n\n[1: \"The well.\" \"The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water,\nthat I thirst not.\" - John, iv. 15.]\n\n[2: \"Luke.\" Chapter xxiv. 13.]\n\n\"How!\" he exclaim'd, nor from his speed meanwhile\nDesisting; \"If that ye be spirits whom God\nVouchsafes not room above; who up the height\nHas been thus far your guide?\" To whom the bard:\n\"If thou observe the tokens,[3] which this man,\nTraced by the finger of the Angel, bears;\n'Tis plain that in the kingdom of the just\nHe needs must share. But sithence she,[4] whose wheel\nSpins day and night, for him not yet had drawn\nThat yarn, which on the fatal distaff piled,\nClotho apportions to each wight that breathes;\nHis soul, that sister is to mine and thine,\nNot of herself could mount; for not like ours\n\n[3: \"The tokens.\" The letter P for Peccata, sins, inscribed upon his\nforehead by the Angel, in order to his being cleared of them in his passage\nthrough Purgatory to Paradise.]\n\n[4: \"She.\" Lachesis, one of the three fates.]\n\nHer ken: whence I, from forth the ample gulf\nOf Hell, was ta'en, to lead him, and will lead\nFar as my lore avails. But, if thou know,\nInstruct us for what cause, the mount erewhile\nThus shook, and trembled: wherefore all at once\nSeem'd shouting, even from his wave - wash'd foot.\"\n\nThat questioning so tallied with my wish,\nThe thirst did feel abatement of its edge\nE'en from expectance. He forthwith replied:\n\"In its devotion, nought irregular\nThis mount can witness, or by punctual rule\nUnsanction'd; here from every change exempt,\nOther than that, which Heaven in itself\nDoth of itself receive, no influence\nCan reach us. Tempest none, shower, hail, or snow,\nHoar frost, or dewy moistness, higher falls\nThan that brief scale of threefold steps: thick clouds,\nNor scudding rack, are ever seen: swift glance\nNe'er lightens; nor Thaumantian Iris gleams,\nThat yonder often shifts on each side Heaven.\nVapour adust doth never mount above\nThe highest of the trinal stairs, whereon\nPeter's vicegerent stands. Lower perchance,\nWith various motion rock'd, trembles the soil:\nBut here, through wind in earth's deep hollow pent,\nI know not how, yet never trembled: then\nTrembles, when any spirit feels itself\nSo purified, that it may rise, or move\nFor rising; and such loud acclaim ensues.\nPurification, by the will alone,\nIs proved, that free to change society\nSeizes the soul rejoicing in her will.\nDesire of bliss is present from the first;\nBut strong propension hinders, to that wish\nBy the just ordinance of Heaven opposed;\nPropension now as eager to fulfill\nThe allotted torment, as erewhile to sin.\nAnd I, who in this punishment had lain\nFive hundred years and more, but now have felt\nFree wish for happier clime. Therefore thou felt'st\nThe mountain tremble; and the spirits devout\nHeard'st, over all his limits, utter praise\nTo that liege Lord, whom I entreat their joy\nTo hasten.\" Thus he spake: and, since the draught\nIs grateful ever as the thirst is keen,\nNo words may speak my fullness of content.\n\n\"Now,\" said the instructor sage, \"I see the net\nThat takes ye here; and how the toils are loosed;\nWhy rocks the mountain, and why ye rejoice.\nVouchsafe, that from thy lips I next may learn\nWho on the earth thou wast; and wherefore here,\nSo many an age, wert prostrate.\" - \"In that time,\nWhen the good Titus,[5] with Heaven's King to help,\nAvenged those piteous gashes, whence the blood\nBy Judas sold did issue; with the name[6]\nMost lasting and most honor'd, there, was I\nAbundantly renown'd,\" the shade replied,\n\"Nor yet with faith endued. So passing sweet\nMy vocal spirit; from Tolosa, Rome\nTo herself drew me, where I merited\nA myrtle garland to inwreathe my brow.\nStatius they name me still. Of Thebes I sang,\nAnd next of great Achilles; but i' the way\nFell with the second burden. Of my flame\nThose sparkles were the seeds, which I derived\nFrom the bright fountain of celestial fire\nThat feeds unnumber'd lamps; the song I mean\nWhich sounds Aeneas' wanderings: that the breast\nI hung at; that the nurse, from whom my veins\nDrank inspiration: whose authority\nWas ever sacred with me. To have lived\nCoeval with the Mantuan, I would bide\nThe revolution of another sun\nBeyond my stated years in banishment.\"\n\n[5: \"When the good Titus.\" When it was so ordered by the divine\nProvidence that Titus, by the destruction of Jerusalem, should avenge the\ndeath of our Saviour on the Jews.]\n\n[6: \"The name.\" The name of Poet.]\n\nThe Mantuan, when he heard him, turn'd to me;\nAnd holding silence, by his countenance\nEnjoin'd me silence: but the power, which wills,\n\nBears not supreme control: laughter and tears\nFollow so closely on the passion prompts them,\nThey wait not for the motions of the will\nIn natures most sincere. I did but smile,\nAs one who winks; and thereupon the shade\nBroke off, and peer'd into mine eyes, where best\nOur looks interpret. \"So to good event\nMayst thou conduct such great emprise,\" he cried,\n\"Say, why across thy visage beam'd, but now,\nThe lightning of a smile.\" On either part\nNow am I straiten'd; one conjures me speak,\nThe other to silence binds me: whence a sigh\nI utter, and the sigh is heard. \"Speak on,\"\nThe teacher cried: \"and do not fear to speak;\nBut tell him what so earnestly he asks.\"\nWhereon I thus: \"Perchance, O ancient spirit!\nThou marvel'st at my smiling. There is room\nFor yet more wonder. He, who guides my ken\nOn high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom\nThou didst presume of men and gods to sing.\nIf other cause thou deem'dst for which I smiled,\nLeave it as not the true one: and believe\nThose words, thou spakest of him, indeed the cause.\"\n\nNow down he bent to embrace my teacher's feet;\nBut he forbade him: \"Brother! do it not:\nThou art a shadow, and behold'st a shade.\"\nHe, rising, answer'd thus: \"Now hast thou proved\nThe force and ardour of the love I bear thee,\nWhen I forget we are but things of air,\nAnd, as a substance, treat an empty shade.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 22\n\n\nCanto XXII\n\nArgument\n\nDante, Virgil, and Statius mount to the sixth cornice, where the sin of\ngluttony is cleansed, the two Latin Poets discoursing by the way. Turning to\nthe right, they find a tree hung with sweet - smelling fruit, and watered by a\nshower that issues from the rock. Voices are heard to proceed from among the\nleaves, recording examples of temperance.\n\nNow we had left the Angel, who had turn'd\nTo the sixth circle our ascending step;\nOne gash from off my forehead razed; while they,\nWhose wishes tend to justice, shouted forth,\n\"Blessed!\"[1] and ended with \"I thirst\"; and I,\nMore nimble than along the other straits,\nSo journey'd, that, without the sense of toil,\nI follow'd upwards the swift - footed shades;\nWhen Virgil thus began: \"Let its pure flame\nFrom virtue flow, and love can never fail\nTo warm another's bosom, so the light\nShine manifestly forth. Hence, from that hour,\nWhen, 'mongst us in the purlieus of the deep,\nCame down the spirit of Aquinum's bard,\nWho told of thine affection, my good will\nHath been for thee of quality as strong\nAs ever link'd itself to one not seen.\nTherefore these stairs will now seem short to me.\nBut tell me: and, if too secure, I loose\nThe rein with a friend's license, as a friend\nForgive me, and speak now as with a friend:\nHow chanced it covetous desire could find\nPlace in that bosom, 'midst such ample store\nOf wisdom, as thy zeal had treasured there?\"\n\n[1: \"Blessed.\" \"Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after\nrighteousness, for they shall be filled.\" - Matt. v. 6.]\n\nFirst somewhat moved to laughter by his words,\nStatius replied: \"Each syllable of thine\nIs a dear pledge of love. Things oft appear,\nThat minister false matter to our doubts,\nWhen their true causes are removed from sight.\nThy question doth assure me, thou believest\nI was on earth a covetous man; perhaps\n\nBecause thou found'st me in that circle placed.\nKnow then I was too wide of avarice:\nAnd e'en for that excess, thousands of moons\nHave wax'd and waned upon my sufferings.\nAnd were it not that I with heedful care\nNoted, where thou exclaim'st, as if in ire,\nWith human nature, 'Why, thou cursed thirst\nOf gold! dost not with juster measure guide\nThe appetite of mortals?' I had met\nThe fierce encounter of the voluble rock.\nThen was I ware that, with too ample wing,\nThe hands may haste to lavishment; and turn'd,\nAs from my other evil, so from this,\nIn penitence. How many from their grave\nShall with shorn locks[2] arise, who living, ay,\nAnd at life's last extreme, of this offence,\nThrough ignorance, did not repent! And know,\nThe fault, which lies direct from any sin\nIn level opposition, here, with that,\nWastes its green rankness on one common heap.\nTherefore, if I have been with those, who wail\nTheir avarice, to cleanse me; through reverse\nOf their transgression, such hath been my lot.\"\n\n[2: \"With shorn locks.\" See Hell, Canto vii, 58.]\n\nTo whom the sovran of the pastoral song:\n\"While thou didst sing that cruel warfare waged\nBy the twin sorrow of Jocasta's womb[3]\nFrom thy discourse with Clio there, it seems\nAs faith had not been thine; without the which,\nGood deeds suffice not. And if so, what sun\nRose on thee, or what candle pierced the dark,\nThat thou didst after see to hoise the sail,\nAnd follow where the fisherman had led?\"\n\n[3: \"The twin sorrow of Jocasta's womb.\" Eteocles and Polynices.]\n\nHe answering thus: \"By thee conducted first,\nI enter'd the Parnassian grots, and quaff'd\nOf the clear spring: illumined first by thee,\nOpen'd mine eyes to God. Thou didst, as one\nWho, journeying through the darkness, bears a light\nBehind, that profits not himself, but makes\n\nHis followers wise, when thou exclaimed'st, 'Lo!\nA renovated world, Justice return'd,\nTimes of primeval innocence restored,\nAnd a new race descended from above.'\nPoet and Christian both to thee I owed.\nThat thou mayst mark more clearly what I trace,\nMy hand shall stretch forth to inform the lines\nWith livelier colouring. Soon o'er all the world,\nBy messengers from Heaven, the true belief\nTeem'd now prolific; and that word of thine,\nAccordant, to the new instructors chimed.\nInduced by which agreement, I was wont\nResort to them; and soon their sanctity\nSo won upon me, that, Domitian's rage\nPursuing them, I mix'd my tears with theirs;\nAnd, while on earth I stay'd, still succor'd them;\nAnd their most righteous customs made me scorn\nAll sects besides. Before I led the Greeks,\nIn tuneful fiction, to the streams of Thebes,\nI was baptized; but secretly, through fear,\nRemain'd a Christian, and conform'd long time\nTo Pagan rites. Four centuries and more,\nI, for that lukewarmness, was fain to pace\nRound the fourth circle. Thou then, who hast raised\nThe covering which did hide such blessing from me,\nWhilst much of this ascent is yet to climb,\nSay, if thou know, where our old Terence bides,\nCaecilius, Plautus, Varro: if condemn'd\nThey dwell, and in what province of the deep.\"\n\"These,\" said my guide, \"with Persius and myself,\nAnd others many more, are with that Greek,[4]\nOf mortals, the most cherish'd by the Nine,\nIn the first ward[5] of darkness. There, oft - times,\nWe of that mount hold converse, on whose top\nFor aye our nurses live. We have the bard\nOf Pella,[6] and the Teian,[7] Agatho,\nSimonides, and many a Grecian else\nIngarlanded with laurel. Of thy train,\n\n[4: \"That Greek.\" Homer.]\n\n[5: \"In the first ward.\" In Limbo.]\n\n[6: Euripides.]\n\n[7: \"The Teian.\" Anacreon.]\n\nAntigone is there, Deiphile,\nArgia, and as sorrowful as erst\nIsmene, and who show'd Langia's wave:[8]\nDeidamia with her sisters there,\nAnd blind Tiresias' daughter,[9] and the bride\nSea - born of Peleus.\"[10] Either poet now\nWas silent; and no longer by the ascent\nOr the steep walls obstructed, round them cast\nInquiring eyes. Four handmaids of the day\nHad finish'd now their office, and the fifth\nWas at the chariot - beam, directing still\nIts flamy point aloof; when thus my guide:\n\"Methinks, it well behoves us to the brink\nBend the right shoulder, circuiting the mount,\nAs we have ever used.\" So custom there\nWas usher to the road; the which we chose\nLess doubtful, as that worthy shade[11] complied.\n\n[8: Hypsipile.]\n\n[9: \"Tiresias' daughter.\" Dante, as some have thought, had forgotten\nthat he had placed Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, among the sorcerers. See\nHell, Canto xx. Vellutello endeavors to reconcile the apparent inconsistency,\nby observing, that although she was placed there as a sinner, yet, as one of\nfamous memory, she had also a place among the worthies in Limbo.]\n\n[10: Thetis.]\n\n[11: \"That worthy shade.\" Statius.]\n\nThey on before me went: I sole pursued,\nListening their speech, that to my thoughts convey'd\nMysterious lessons of sweet poesy.\nBut soon they ceased; for midway of the road\nA tree we found, with goodly fruitage hung,\nAnd pleasant to the smell: and as a fir,\nUpward from bough to bough, less ample spreads;\nSo downward this less ample spread; that none,\nMethinks, aloft may climb. Upon the side,\nThat closed our path, a liquid crystal fell\nFrom the steep rock, and through the sprays above\nStream'd showering. With associate step the bards\nDrew near the plant; and, from amidst the leaves,\nA voice was heard: \"Ye shall be chary of me;\"\nAnd after added: \"Mary took more thought\nFor joy and honour of the nuptial feast,\nThan for herself, who answers now for you.\n\nThe women of old Rome were satisfied\nWith water for their beverage. Daniel[12] fed\nOn pulse, and wisdom gain'd. The primal age\nWas beautiful as gold: and hunger then\nMade acorns tasteful; thirst, each rivulet\nRun nectar. Honey and locusts were the food,\nWhereon the Baptist in the wilderness\nFed, and that eminence of glory reach'd\nAnd greatness, which the Evangelist records.\"\n\n[12: \"Daniel.\" \"Then said Daniel to Melzar, whom the prince of the\neunuchs had set over Daniel, Hananiah, Michael, and Azariah, 'Prove thy\nservants, I beseech thee, ten days; and let them give us pulse to eat, and\nwater to drink.'\" - Dan. i. II, 12. \"Thus Melzar took away the portion of\ntheir meat, and the wine that they should drink: and gave them pulse. As for\nthese four children, God gave them knowledge and skill in all learning and\nwisdom: and Daniel had understanding in all visions and dreams.\" - Ibid. 16,\n17.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 23\n\n\nCanto XXIII\n\nArgument\n\nThey are overtaken by the spirit of Forese, who had been a friend of our\nPoet's on earth, and who now inveighs bitterly against the immodest dress of\ntheir countrywomen at Florence.\n\nOn the green leaf mine eyes were fix'd, like his\nWho throws away his days in idle chase\nOf the diminutive birds, when thus I heard\nThe more than father warn me: \"Son! our time\nAsks thriftier using. Linger not: away!\"\nThereat my face and steps at once I turn'd\nToward the sages, by whose converse cheer'd\nI journey'd on, and felt no toil: and lo!\nA sound of weeping, and a song: \"My lips,[1]\nO Lord!\" and these so mingled, it gave birth\nTo pleasure and to pain. \"O Sire beloved!\nSay what is this I hear.\" Thus I inquired.\n\n[1: \"O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall show forth thy\npraise.\" - Psalm li. 15.]\n\n\"Spirits,\" said he, \"who, as they go, perchance,\nTheir debt of duty pay.\" As on their road\nThe thoughtful pilgrims, overtaking some\nNot known unto them, turn to them, and look,\nBut stay not; thus, approaching from behind\nWith speedier motion, eyed us, as they pass'd,\nA crowd of spirits, silent and devout.\n\nThe eyes of each were dark and hollow; pale\nTheir visage, and so lean withal, the bones\nStood staring through the skin. I do not think\nThus dry and meagre Erisichthon show'd,\nWhen pinch'd by sharp - set famine to the quick.\n\n\"Lo!\" to myself I mused, \"the race, who lost\nJerusalem, when Mary with dire beak\nPrey'd on her child.\" The sockets seem'd as rings,\nFrom which the gems were dropt. Who reads the name[2]\nOf man upon his forehead, there the M\nHad traced most plainly. Who would deem, that scent\nOf water and an apple could have proved\nPowerful to generate such pining want,\nNot knowing how it wrought? While now I stood,\nWondering what thus could waste them, (for the cause\nOf their gaunt hollowness and scaly rind\nAppear'd not,) lo! a spirit turn'd his eyes\nIn their deep - sunken cells, and fasten'd them\nOn me, then cried with vehemence aloud:\n\"What grace is this vouchsafed me?\" By his looks\nI ne'er had recognized him: but the voice\nBrought to my knowledge what his cheer conceal'd.\nRemembrance of his alter'd lineaments\nWas kindled from that spark; and I agnized\nThe visage of Forese.[3]. \"Ah! respect\nThis wan and leprous - wither'd skin,\" thus he\nSuppliant implored, \"this macerated flesh.\nSpeak to me truly of thyself. And who\nAre those twain spirits, that escort thee there?\nBe it not said thou scorn'st to talk with me.\"\n\n[2: The temples, nose, and forehead are supposed to represent this\nletter [of the Latin word (H)OMO - man], and the eyes the two O's.]\n\n[3: A brother of Piccarda. See also Canto xxiv. and Paradise, Canto\niii. Cionacci is referred to by Lombardi, in order to show that Forese was\nalso the brother of Corso Donati, our author's political enemy.]\n\n\"That face of thine,\" I answer'd him, \"which dead\nI once bewail'd, disposes me not less\nFor weeping, when I see it thus transform'd.\nSay then, by Heaven, what blasts ye thus? The whilst\nI wonder, ask not speech from me: unapt\nIs he to speak, whom other will employs.\"\n\nHe thus: \"The water and the plant, we pass'd\nWith power are gifted, by the eternal will\nInfused; the which so pines me. Every spirit,\nWhose song bewails his gluttony indulged\nToo grossly, here in hunger and in thirst\nIs purified. The odour, which the fruit,\nAnd spray that showers upon the verdure, breathe,\nInflames us with desire to feed and drink.\nNor once alone, encompassing our route,\nWe come to add fresh fuel to the pain:\nPain, said I? solace rather: for that will,\nTo the tree, leads us, by which Christ was led\nTo call on Eli, joyful, when he paid\nOur ransom from his vein.\" I answering thus:\n\"Forese! from that day, in which the world\nFor better life thou changedst, not five years\nHave circled. If the power of sinning more\nWere first concluded in thee, ere thou knew'st\nThat kindly grief which re - espouses us\nTo God, how hither art thou, come so soon?\nI thought to find thee lower,[4] there, where time\nIs recompense for time.\" He straight replied:\n\"To drink up the sweet wormwood of affliction\nI have been brought thus early, by the tears\nStream'd down my Nella's cheeks. Her prayers devout,\nHer sighs have drawn me from the coast,[5] where oft\nExpectance lingers; and have set me free\nFrom the other circles. In the sight of God\nSo much the dearer is my widow prized,\nShe whom I loved so fondly, as she ranks\nMore singly eminent for virtuous deeds.\nThe tract, most barbarous of Sardinia's isle,[6]\nHath dames more chaste, and modester by far,\nThan that wherein I left her. O sweet brother!\nWhat wouldst thou have me say? A time to come\nStands full within my view, to which this hour\nShall not be counted of an ancient date,\n\n[4: In the Ante - Purgatory. See Canto ii.]\n\n[5: The wife of Forese.]\n\n[6: The Barbagia is a part of Sardinia, to which that name was given,\non account of the uncivilized state of its inhabitants, who are said to have\ngone nearly naked.]\n\nWhen from the pulpit shall be loudly warn'd\nThe unblushing dames of Florence, lest they bare\nUnkerchief'd bosoms to the common gaze.\nWhat savage women hath the world e'er seen,\nWhat Saracens,[7] for whom there needed scourge\nOf spiritual or other discipline,\nTo force them walk with covering on their limbs?\nBut did they see, the shameless ones, what Heaven\nWafts on swift wing toward them while I speak,\nTheir mouths were oped for howling: they shall taste\nOf sorrow (unless foresight cheat me here),\nOr e'er the cheek of him be clothed with down,\nWho is now rock'd with lullaby asleep.\nAh! now, my brother, hide thyself no more:\nThou seest how not I alone, but all,\nGaze, where thou veil'st the intercepted sun.\"\nWhence I replied: \"If thou recall to mind\nWhat we were once together, even yet\nRemembrance of those days may grieve thee sore.\nThat I forsook that life, was due to him\nWho there precedes me, some few evenings past,\nWhen she was round, who shines with sister lamp\nTo his that glisters yonder,\" and I show'd\nThe sun. \"'Tis. he, who through profoundest night\nOf the true dead has brought me, with this flesh\nAs true, that follows. From that gloom the aid\nOf his sure comfort drew me on to climb,\nAnd, climbing, wind along this mountain - steep,\nWhich rectifies in you whate'er the world\nMade crooked and depraved. I have his word,\nThat he will bear me company as far\nAs till I come where Beatrice dwells:\nBut there must leave me. Virgil is that spirit,\nWho thus hath promised,\" and I pointed to him;\n\"The other is that shade, for whom so late\nYour realm, as he arose, exulting, shook\nThrough every pendent cliff and rocky bound.\"\n\n[7: \"Saracens.\" This word, during the Middle Ages, was applied to all\nnations (except the Jews) who did not profess Christianity.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 24\n\n\nCanto XXIV\n\nArgument\n\nForese points out several others by name who are here, like himself,\npurifying themselves from the vice of gluttony; and amongst the rest,\nBuonaggiunta of Lucca, with whom our Poet converses. Forese then predicts the\nviolent end of Dante's political enemy, Corso, Donati; and when he has quitted\nthem, the Poet, in company with Statius and Virgil, arrives at another tree,\nfrom whence issue voices that record ancient examples of gluttony; and\nproceeding forward, they are directed by an Angel which way to ascend to the\nnext cornice of the mountain.\n\nOur journey was not slacken'd by our talk,\nNor yet our talk by journeying. Still we spake,\nAnd urged our travel stoutly, like a ship\nWhen the wind sits astern. The shadowy forms,\nThat seem'd things dead and dead again, drew in\nAt their deep - delved orbs rare wonder of me,\nPerceiving I had life; and I my words\nContinued, and thus spake: \"He journeys up\nPerhaps more tardily than else he would,\nFor others' sake. But tell me, if thou know'st,\nWhere is Piccarda? Tell me, if I see\nAny of mark, among this multitude\nWho eye me thus.\" - \"My sister (she for whom,\n'Twixt beautiful and good, I cannot say\nWhich name was fitter) wears e'en now her crown,\nAnd triumphs in Olympus.\" Saying this,\nHe added: Since spare diet hath so worn\nOur semblance out, 'tis lawful here to name\nEach one. This,\" and his finger then he raised,\n'Is Buonaggiunta,[1] - Buonaggiunta, he\nOf Lucca: and that face beyond him, pierced\nUnto a leaner fineness than the rest,\nHad keeping of the Church; he was of Tours,[2]\nAnd purges by wan abstinence away\nBolsena's eels and cups of muscadel.\"\n\n[1: \"Buonaggiunta.\" Buonaggiunta Urbiciani, of Lucca.]\n\n[2: \"He was of Tours.\" Simon of Tours became Pope with the title of\nMartin IV in 1281, and died in 1285.]\n\nHe show'd me many others one by one:\nAnd all, as they were named, seem'd well content;\nFor no dark gesture I discern'd in any.\nI saw, through hunger, Ubaldino[3] grind\n\n[3: \"Ubaldino degli Ubaldini, of Pila, in the Florentine territory.]\n\nHis teeth on emptiness; and Boniface,[4]\nThat waved the crozier o'er a numerous flock.\nI saw the Marquis, who had time erewhile\nTo swill at Forli with less drought; yet so,\nWas one ne'er stated. I howe'er, like him\nThat, gazing 'midst a crowd, singles out one,\nSo singled him of Lucca; for methought\nWas none amongst them took such note of me.\nSomewhat I heard him whisper of Gentucca:\nThe sound was indistinct and murmur'd there,\nWhere justice, that so strips them, fix'd her sting.\n\n[4: \"Boniface,\" Archbishop of Ravenna. By Venturi he is called\nBonifazio de' Fieschi, a Genoese; by Vellutello, the son of the above -\nmentioned Ubaldini; and by Landino, Francioso, a Frenchman.]\n\n\"Spirit!\" said I, \"it seems as thou wouldst fain\nSpeak with me. Let me hear thee. Mutual wish\nTo converse prompts, which let us both indulge.\"\n\nHe, answering, straight began: \"Woman is born,\nWhose brow no wimple shades yet, that shall make\nMy city please thee, blame it as they may.\nGo then with this forewarning. If aught false\nMy whisper too implied, the event shall tell.\nBut say, if of a truth I see the man\nOf that new lay the inventor, which begins\nWith \"Ladies, ye that con the lore of love.'\"\n\nTo whom I thus: \"Count of me but as one,\nWho am the scribe of love; that, when he breathes,\nTake up my pen, and, as he dictates, write.\"\n\n\"Brother!\" said he, \"the hindrance, which once held\nThe notary, with Guittone and myself,\nShort of that new and sweeter style I hear,\nIs now disclosed: I see how ye your plumes\nStretch, as the inditer guides them; which, no question,\nOurs did not. He that seeks a grace beyond,\nSees not the distance parts one style from other.\"\nAnd, as contented, here he held his peace.\n\nLike as the birds, that winter near the Nile,\nIn squared regiment direct their course,\nThen stretch themselves in file for speedier flight;\nThus all the tribe of spirits, as they turn'd\n\nTheir visage, faster fled, nimble alike\nThrough leanness and desire. And as a man,\nTired with the motion of a trotting steed,\nSlacks pace, and stays behind his company,\nTill his o'erbreathed lungs keep temperate time;\nE'en so Forese let that holy crew\nProceed, behind them lingering at my side,\nAnd saying: \"When shall I again behold thee?\"\n\n\"How long my life may last,\" said I, \"I know not:\nThis know, how soon soever I return,\nMy wishes will before me have arrived:\nSithence the place,[5] where I am set to live,\nIs, day by day, more scoop'd of all its good;\nAnd dismal ruin seems to threaten it,\".\n\n[5: \"The place.\" Florence.]\n\n\"Go now,\" he cried: \"lo! he,[6] whose guilt is most,\nPasses before my vision, dragg'd at heels\nOf an infuriate beast. Toward the vale,\nWhere guilt hath no redemption, on its speeds,\nEach step increasing swiftness on the last;\nUntil a blow it strikes, that leaveth him\nA corse most vilely shatter'd. No long space\nThose wheels have yet to roll,\" (therewith his eyes\nLook'd up to Heaven,) \"ere thou shalt plainly see\nThat which my words may not more plainly tell.\nI quit thee: time is precious here: I lose\nToo much, thus measuring my pace with thine.\"\n\n[6: \"He.\" Corso Donati was suspected of aiming at the sovereignty of\nFlorence. To escape the fury of his fellow - citizens, he fled away on\nhorseback, but falling, was overtaken and slain, A.D. 1308. The contemporary\nannalist, after relating at length the circumstances of his fate, adds, \"that\nhe was one of the wisest and most valorous knights, the best speaker, the most\nexpert statesman, the most renowned and enterprising man of his age in Italy,\na comely knight and of graceful carriage, but very worldly, and in his time\nhad formed many conspiracies in Florence, and entered into many scandalous\npractices for the sake of attaining state and lordship.\" G. Villani, lib. v.]\n\nAs from a troop of well - rank'd chivalry,\nOne knight, more enterprising than the rest,\nPricks forth at gallop, eager to display\nHis prowess in the first encounter proved;\nSo parted he from us, with lengthen'd strides;\nAnd left me on the way with those twain spirits,\nWho were such mighty marshals of the world.\n\nWhen he beyond us had so fled, mine eyes\nNo nearer reach'd him, than my thoughts his words,\nThe branches of another fruit, thick hung,\nAnd blooming fresh, appear'd. E'en as our steps\nTurn'd thither; not far off, it rose to view.\nBeneath it were a multitude, that raised\nTheir hands, and shouted forth I know not what\nUnto the boughs; like greedy and fond brats,\nThat beg, and answer none obtain from him,\nOf whom they beg; but more to draw them on,\nHe, at arm's length, the object of their wish\nAbove them holds aloft, and hides it not.\n\nAt length, as undeceived, they went their way:\nAnd we approach the tree, whom vows and tears\nSue to in vain; the mighty tree. \"Pass on,\nAnd come not near. Stands higher up the wood,\nWhereof Eve tasted: and from it was ta'en\nThis plant.\" Such sounds from midst the thickets came\nWhence I, with either bard, close to the side\nThat rose, pass'd forth beyond. \"Remember,\" next\nWe heard, \"those unblest creatures of the clouds,[7]\nHow they their twofold bosoms, overgorged,\nOpposed on fight to Theseus: call to mind\nThe Hebrews, how, effeminate, they stoop'd\nTo ease their thirst; whence Gideon's ranks were thinn'd,\nAs he to Midian[8] march'd adown the hills.\"\n\n[7: The Centaurs.]\n\n[8: Judges, vii.]\n\nThus near one border coasting, still we heard\nThe sins of gluttony, with woe erewhile\nReguerdon'd. Then along the lonely path,\nOnce more at large, full thousand paces on\nWe travel'd, each contemplative and mute.\n\n\"Why pensive journey so ye three alone?\"\nthus suddenly a voice exclaim'd: whereat\nI shook, as doth a scared and paltry beast;\nThen raised my head, to look from whence it came.\n\nWas ne'er, in furnace, glass, or metal, seen\nSo bright and glowing red, as was the shape\nI now beheld. \"If ye desire to mount,\"\nHe cried; \"here must ye turn. This way he goes,\n\nWho goes in quest of peace.\" His countenance\nHad dazzled me; and to my guides I faced\nBackward, like one who walks as sound directs.\n\nAs when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up\nOn Freshen'd wing the air of May, and breathes\nOf fragrance, all impregn'd with herb and flowers;\nE'en such a wind I felt upon my front\nBlow gently, and the moving of a wing\nPerceived, that, moving, shed ambrosial smell;\nAnd then a voice: \"Blessed are they, whom grace\nDoth so illume, that appetite in them\nExhaleth no inordinate desire,\nStill hungering as the rule of temperance wills.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 25\n\n\nCanto XXV\n\nArgument\n\nVirgil and Statius resolve some doubts that have arisen in the mind of\nDante from what he had just seen. They all arrive on the seventh and last\ncornice, where the sin of incontinence is purged in fire; and the spirits of\nthose suffering therein are heard to record illustrious instances of chastity.\n\nIt was an hour, when he who climbs, had need\nTo walk uncrippled: for the sun[1] had now\nTo Taurus the meridian circle left,\nAnd to the Scorpion left the night. As one,\nThat makes no pause, but presses on his road,\nWhate'er betide him, if some urgent need\nImpel; so enter'd we upon our way,\nOne before other; for, but singly, none\nThat steep and narrow scale admits to climb.\n\n[1: \"The sun.\" The sun had passed the meridian two hours, and that\nmeridian was now occupied by the constellation of Taurus, to which as the\nScorpion is opposite, the latter constellation was co sequently at the\nmeridian of night.]\n\nE'en as the young stork lifteth up his wing\nThrough wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit\nThe nest, and drops it; so in me desire\nOf questioning my guide arose, and fell,\nArriving even to the act that marks\nA man prepared for speech. Him all our haste\nRestrain'd not; but thus spake the sire beloved:\n\"Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip\n\nStands trembling for its flight.\" Encouraged thus,\nI straight began: \"How there can leanness come,\nWhere is no want of nourishment to feed?\"\n\n\"If thou,\" he answer'd, hadst remember'd thee,\nHow Meleager[2] with the wasting brand\nWasted alike, by equal fires consumed;\nThis would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought,\nHow in the mirror[3] your reflected form\nWith mimic motion vibrates; what now seems\nHard, had appear'd no harder than the pulp\nOf summer - fruit mature. But that thy will\nIn certainty may find its full repose,\nLo Statius here! on him I call, and pray\nThat he would now be healer of thy wound.\"\n\n[2: Virgil reminds Dante that, as Meleager was wasted away by the\ndecree of the fates, and not through want of blood; so by the divine\nappointment, there may be leanness where there is no need of nourishment.]\n\n[3: As the reflection of a form in a mirror is modified with the\nmodification of the form itself; so the soul, separated from the earthly body,\nimpresses the ghost of that body with its own affections.]\n\n\"If, in thy presence, I unfold to him\nThe secrets of Heaven's vengeance, let me plead\nThine own injunction to exculpate me.\"\nSo Statius answer'd, and forthwith began:\n\"Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind\nReceive them; so shall they be light to clear\nThe doubt thou offer'st. Blood, concocted well,\nWhich by the thirsty veins is ne'er imbibed,\nAnd rests as food superfluous, to be ta'en\nFrom the replenish'd table, in the heart\nDerives effectual virtue, that informs\nThe several human limbs, as being that\nWhich passes through the veins itself to make them.\nYet more concocted it descends, where shame\nForbids to mention: and from thence distils\nIn natural vessel on another's blood.\nThere each unite together; one disposed\nTo endure, to act the other, through that power\nDerived from whence it came; and being met,\nIt' gins to work, coagulating first;\nThen vivifies what its own substance made\n\nConsist. With animation now indued,\nThe active virtue (differing from a plant\nNo further, than that this is on the way,\nAnd at its limit that) continues yet\nTo operate, that now it moves, and feels,\nAs sea - sponge clinging to the rock: and there\nAssumes the organic powers its seed convey'd.\nThis is the moment, son! at which the virtue,\nThat from the generating heart proceeds,\nIs pliant and expansive; for each limb\nIs in the heart by forgetful nature plann'd.\nHow babe of animal becomes, remains\nFor thy considering. At this point, more wise,\nThan thou, has err'd, making the soul disjoin'd\nFrom passive intellect, because he saw\nNo organ for the latter's use assign'd.\n\n\"Open thy bosom to the truth that comes.\nKnow, soon as in the embryo, to the brain\nArticulation is complete, then turns\nThe primal Mover with a smile of joy\nOn such great work of nature; and imbreathes\nNew spirit replete with virtue, that what here\nActive it finds, to its own substance draws;\nAnd forms an individual soul, that lives,\nAnd feels, and bends reflective on itself.\nAnd that thou less may'st marvel at the word,\nMark the sun's heat; how that to wine doth change,\nMix'd with the moisture filter'd through the vine.\n\n\"When Lachesis hath spun the thread,[4] the soul\nTakes with her both the human and divine,\nMemory, intelligence, and will, in act\nFar keener than before; the other powers\nInactive all and mute. No pause allow'd,\nIn wondrous sort self - moving, to one strand\nOf those, where the departed roam, she falls:\nHere learns her destined path. Soon as the place\nReceives her, round the plastic virtue beams,\nDistinct as in the living limbs before:\nAnd as the air, when saturate with showers,\n\n[4: \"When Lachesis hath spun the thread.\" When a man's life on earth\nis at an end.]\n\nThe casual beam refracting, decks itself\nWith many a hue; so here the ambient air\nWeareth that form, which influence of the soul\nImprints on it: and like the flame, that where\nThe fire moves, thither follows; so, henceforth,\nThe new form on the spirit follows still:\nHence hath it semblance, and is shadow call'd,\nWith each sense, even to the sight, indued:\nHence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs,\nWhich thou mayst oft have witness'd on the mount.\nThe obedient shadow fails not to present\nWhatever varying passion moves within us.\nAnd this the cause of what thou marvel'st at.\"\n\nNow the last flexure of our way we reach'd;\nAnd to the right hand turning, other care\nAwaits us. Here the rocky precipice\nHurls forth redundant flames; and from the rim\nA blast up - blown, with forcible rebuff\nDriveth them back, sequester'd from its bound.\n\nBehoved us, one by one, along the side,\nThat border'd on the void, to pass; and I\nFear'd on one hand the fire, on the other fear'd\nHeadlong to fall: when thus the instructor warn'd:\n\"Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes.\nA little swerving and the way is lost.\"\n\nThen from the bosom of the burning mass,\n\"O God of mercy!\"[5] heard I sung, and felt\nNo less desire to turn. And when I saw\nSpirits along the flame proceeding, I\nBetween their footsteps and mine own was fain\nTo share by turns my view. At the hymn's close\nThey shouted loud, \"I do not know a man;\"[6]\nThen in low voice again took up the strain;\nWhich once more ended, \"To the wood,\" they cried,\n\"Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto stung\nWith Cytherea's poison\"; then return'd\nUnto their song; then many a pair extoll'd,\n\n[5: \"Summae Deus clementiae.\" The beginning of the hymn sung on the\nSabbath at matins, as in the ancient breviaries; in the modern it is \"summae\nparens clementiae.\"]\n\n[6: Luke, i. 34.]\n\nWho lived in virtue chastely and the bands\nOf wedded love. Nor from that task, I ween,\nSurcease they; whilesoe'er the scorching fire\nEnclasps them. Of such skill appliance needs,\nTo medicine the wound that healeth last.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 26\n\n\nCanto XXVI\n\nArgument\n\nThe spirits wonder at seeing the shadow cast by the body of Dante on the\nflame as he passes it. This moves one of them to address him. It proves to be\nGuido Guinicelli, the Italian poet, who points out to him the spirit of\nArnault Daniel, the Provencal, with whom he also speaks.\n\nWhile singly thus along the rim we walk'd,\nOft the good master warn'd me: \"Look thou\nAvail it that I caution thee.\" The sun [well.\nNow all the western clime irradiate changed\nFrom azure tinct to white; and, as I pass'd,\nMy passing shadow made the umber'd flame\nBurn ruddier. At so strange a sight I mark'd\nThat many a spirit marvel'd on his way.\n\nThis bred occasion first to speak of me.\n\"He seems,\" said they, \"no insubstantial frame:\"\nThen, to obtain what certainty they might,\nStretch'd tow'rd me, careful not to overpass\nThe burning pale. \"O thou, who followest\nThe others, haply not more slow than they,\nBut moved by reverence; answer me, who burn\nIn thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these\nAll for thine answer do more thirst, than doth\nIndian or Aethiop for the cooling stream.\nTell us, how is it that thou makest thyself\nA wall against the sun, as thou not yet\nInto the inextricable toils of death\nHadst enter'd?\" Thus spake one; and I had straight\nDeclared me, if attention had not turn'd\nTo new appearance. Meeting these, there came,\nMidway the burning path, a crowd, on whom\nEarnestly gazing, from each part I view\nThe shadows all press forward, severally\nEach snatch a hasty kiss, and then away.\nE'en so the emmets, 'mid their dusky troops,\nPeer closely one at other, to spy out\nTheir mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.\n\nThat friendly greeting parted, ere despatch\nOf the first onward step, from either tribe\nLoud clamour rises: those, who newly come,\nShout \"Sodom and Gomorrah!\" these, \"The cow\nPasiphae enter'd, that the beast she woo'd\nMight rush unto her luxury.\" Then as cranes,\nThat part toward the Riphaean mountains fly,\nPart toward the Lybic sands, these to avoid\nThe ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off\nOne crowd, advances the other; and resume\nTheir first song, weeping, and their several shout.\n\nAgain drew near my side the very same,\nWho had erewhile besought me; and their looks\nMark'd eagerness to listen. I, who twice\nTheir will had noted, spake: \"O spirits! secure,\nWhene'er the time may be, of peaceful end;\nMy limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age,\nHave I left yonder: here they bear me, fed\nWith blood, and sinew - strung. That I no more\nMay live in blindness, hence I tend aloft.\nThere is a Dame on high, who wins for us\nThis grace, by which my mortal through your realm\nI bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet\nSuch full fruition, that the orb of heaven,\nFullest of love, and of most ample space,\nReceive you; as ye tell (upon my page\nHenceforth to stand recorded) who ye are;\nAnd what this multitude, that at your backs\nHave pass'd behind us.\" As one, mountain - bred,\nRugged and clownish, if some city's walls\nHe chance to enter, round him stares agape,\nConfounded and struck dumb; e'en such appear'd\nEach spirit. But when rid of that amaze,\n(Not long the inmate of a noble heart,)\nHe, who before had question'd thus resumed:\n\"O blessed! who, for death preparing, takest\nExperience of our limits, in thy bark;\nTheir crime, who not with us proceed, was that\nFor which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard\nThe shout of 'queen,' to taunt him. Hence their cry\nOf 'Sodom,' as they parted; to rebuke\nThemselves, and aid the burning by their shame.\nOur sinning was hermaphrodite: but we,\nBecause the law of human kind we broke,\nFollowing like beasts our vile concupiscence,\nHence parting from them, to our own disgrace\nRecord the name of her, by whom the beast\nIn bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds\nThou know'st, and how we sinn'd. If thou by name\nWouldst haply know us, time permits not now\nTo tell so much, nor can I. Of myself\nLearn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I;\nWho having truly sorrow'd ere my last,\nAlready cleanse me.\" With such pious joy,\nAs the two sons upon their mother gazed\nFrom sad Lycurgus[1] rescued; such my joy\n(Save that I more repress'd it) when I heard\nFrom his own lips the name of him pronounced,\nWho was a father to me, and to those\nMy betters, who have ever used the sweet\nAnd pleasant rhymes of love. So naught I heard,\nNor spake; but long time thoughtfully I went,\nGazing on him; and, only for the fire,\nApproached not nearer. When my eyes were fed\nBy looking on him; with such solemn pledge,\nAs forces credence, I devoted me\nUnto his service wholly. In reply\nHe thus bespake me: \"What from thee I hear\nIs graved so deeply on my mind, the waves\nOf Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make\nA whit less lively. But as now thy oath\nHas seal'd the truth, declare what cause impels\n\n[1: Hypsipile had left her infant charge, the son of Lycurgus, on a\nbank, where it was destroyed by a serpent, when she went to show the Argive\narmy the river of Langia; and on her escaping the effects of Lycurgus'\nresentment, the joy her own children felt at the sight of her was such as our\nPoet felt on beholding his predecessor Guinicelli.]\n\nThat love, which both thy looks and speech bewray.\"\n\n\"Those dulcet lays,\" I answer'd; \"which, as long\nAs of our tongue the beauty does not fade,\nShall make us love the very ink that traced them.\"\n\n\"Brother!\" he cried, and pointed at the shade\nBefore him, \"there is one, whose mother speech\nDoth owe to him a fairer ornament.\nHe[2] in love ditties, and the tales of prose,\nWithout a rival stands; and lets the fools\nTalk on, who think the songster of Limoges[3]\nO'ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice\nThey look to, more than truth; and so confirm\nOpinion, ere by art or reason taught.\nThus many of the elder time cried up\nGuittone, giving him the prize, till truth\nBy strength of numbers vanquish'd. If thou own\nSo ample privilege, as to have gain'd\nFree entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ\nIs Abbot of the college; say to him\nOne paternoster for me, far as needs\nFor dwellers in this world, where power to sin\nNo longer tempts us.\" Haply to make way\nFor one that follow'd next, when that was said,\nHe vanish'd through the fire, as through the wave\nA fish, that glances diving to the deep.\n\n[2: Dante and Petrarch place Arnault Daniel first among Povencal\npoets.]\n\n[3: Giraud de Borneil, of Sideuil, a castle in Limoges. He was a\nTroubadour, much admired and caressed in his day, and appears to have been in\nfavor with the monarchs of Castile, Leon, Navarre, and Arragon.]\n\nI, to the spirit he had shown me, drew\nA little onward, and besought his name,\nFor which my heart, I said, kept gracious room.\nHe frankly thus began: \"Thy courtesy[4]\nSo wins on me, I have nor power nor will\nTo hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs,\nSorely waymenting for my folly past,\nThorough this ford of fire I wade, and see\nThe day, I hope for, smiling in my view.\nI pray ye by the worth that guides ye up\n\n[4: Arnault is here made to speak in his own tongue, the Provencal.]\n\nUnto the summit of the scale, in time\nRemember ye my sufferings.\" With such words\nHe disappear'd in the refining flame.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 27\n\n\nCanto XXVII\n\nArgument\n\nAn Angel sends them forward through the fire to the last ascent, which\nleads to the terrestrial Paradise, situated on the summit of the mountain.\nThey have not proceeded many steps on their way upward, when the fall of night\nhinders them from going further; and our Poet, who has lain down with Virgil\nand Statius to rest, beholds in a dream two females, figuring the active and\ncontemplative life. With the return of morning, they reach the height; and\nhere Virgil gives Dante full liberty to use his own pleasure and judgment in\nthe choice of his way, till he shall meet with Beatrice.\n\nNow was the sun[1] so station'd as when first\nHis early radiance quivers on the heights,\nWhere stream'd his Maker's blood; while Libra hangs\nAbove Hesperian Ebro; and new fires,\nMeridian, flash on Ganges' yellow tide.\n\n[1: \"The sun,\" At Jerusalem it was dawn, in Spain midnight, and in\nIndia noonday, in Purgatory sunset.]\n\nSo day was sinking, when the Angel of God\nAppear'd before us. Joy was in his mien.\nForth of the flame he stood upon the brink;\nAnd with a voice, whose lively clearness far\nSurpass'd our human, \"Blessed[2] are the pure\nIn heart,\" he sang: then near him as we came,\n\"Go ye not further, holy spirits!\" he cried,\n\"Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list\nAttentive to the song ye hear from thence.\"\n\n[2: \"Blessed.\" - Matt. v. 8.]\n\nI, when I heard his saying, was as one\nLaid in the grave. My hands together clasp'd,\nAnd upward stretching, on the fire I look'd;\nAnd busy fancy conjured up the forms\nErewhile beheld alive consumed in flames.\n\nThe escorting spirits turn'd with gentle looks\nToward me; and the Mantuan spake: \"My son,\nHere torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death.\nRemember thee, remember thee, if I\nSafe e'en on Geryon brought thee; now I come\nMore near to God, wilt thou not trust me now?\n\nOf this be sure; though in its womb that flame\nA thousand years contain'd thee, from thy head\nNo hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth,\nApproach; and with thy hand thy vesture's hem\nStretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief.\nLay now all fear, oh! lay all fear aside.\nTurn hither, and come onward undismay'd.\"\n\nI still, though conscience urged, no step advanced.\n\nWhen still he saw me fix'd and obstinate.\nSomewhat disturb'd he cried: \"Mark now, my son,\nFrom Beatrice thou art by this wall\nDivided.\" As at Thisbe's name the eye\nOf Pyramus was open'd, (when life ebb'd\nFast from his veins), and took one parting glance,\nWhile vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn'd\nTo my sage guide, relenting, when I heard\nThe name that springs forever in my breast.\n\nHe shook his forehead; and, \"How long,\" he said,\n\"Linger we now?\" then smiled, as one would smile\nUpon a child that eyes the fruit and yields.\nInto the fire before me then he walk'd;\nAnd Statius, who erewhile no little space\nHad parted us, he pray'd to come behind.\n\nI would have cast me into molten glass\nTo cool me, when I enter'd; so intense\nRaged the conflagrant mass. The sire beloved,\nTo comfort me, as he proceeded, still\nOf Beatrice talk'd. \"Her eyes,\" saith he,\n\"E'en now I seem to view.\" From the other side\nA voice, that sang, did guide us; and the voice\nFollowing, with heedful ear, we issued forth,\nThere where the path led upward. \"Come,\"[3] we heard,\n\"Come, blessed of my Father.\" Such the sounds,\nThat hail'd us from within a light, which shone\nSo radiant, I could not endure the view.\n\"The sun,\" it added, \"hastes: and evening comes.\nDelay not: ere the western sky is hung\nWith blackness, strive ye for the pass.\" Our way\nUpright within the rock arose, and faced\nSuch part of heaven, that from before my steps\n\n[3: \"Come.\" - Matt. xxv. 34.]\n\nThe beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.\n\nNor many stairs were overpast, when now\nBy fading of the shadow we perceived\nThe sun behind us couch'd; and ere one face\nOf darkness o'er its measureless expanse\nInvolved the horizon, and the night her lot\nHeld individual, each of us had made\nA stair his pallet; not that will, but power,\nHad fail'd us, by the nature of that mount\nForbidden further travel. As the goats,\nThat late have skipt and wanton'd rapidly\nUpon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta'en\nTheir supper on the herb, now silent lie\nAnd ruminate beneath the umbrage brown,\nWhile noon - day rages; and the goatherd leans\nUpon his staff, and leaning watches them:\nAnd as the swain, that lodges out all night\nIn quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey\nDisperse them: even so all three abode,\nI as a goat, and as the shepherds they,\nClose pent on either side by shelving rock.\n\nA little glimpse of sky was seen above;\nYet by that little I beheld the stars,\nIn magnitude and lustre shining forth\nWith more than wonted glory. As I lay,\nGazing on them, and in that fit of musing\nSleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft\nTidings of future hap. About the hour,\nAs I believe, when Venus from the east\nFirst lighten'd on the mountain, she whose orb\nSeems always glowing with the fire of love,\nA lady young and beautiful, I dream'd,\nWas passing o'er a lea; and, as she came,\nMethought I saw her ever and anon\nBending to cull the flowers, and thus she sang:\n\"Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,\nThat I am Leah:[4] for my brow to weave\n\n[4: Leah, the active life; Rachel, the contemplative; Michael Angelo\nhas used these allegorical personages on his monument of Julius II in the\nchurch of S. Pietro in Vincolo.]\n\nA garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.\nTo please me at the crystal mirror, here\nI deck me. But my sister Rachel, she\nBefore her glass abides the livelong day,\nHer radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less,\nThan I with this delightful task. Her joy\nIn contemplation, as in labour mine.\"\n\nAnd now as glimmering dawn appear'd, that breaks\nMore welcome to the pilgrim still, as he\nSojourns less distant on his homeward way,\nDarkness from all sides fled, and with it fled\nMy slumber; whence I rose, and saw my guide\nAlready risen. \"That delicious fruit,\nWhich through so many a branch the zealous care\nOf mortals roams in quest of, shall this day\nAppease thy hunger.\" Such the words I heard\nFrom Virgil's lip; and never greeting heard,\nSo pleasant as the sounds. Within me straight\nDesire so grew upon desire to mount,\nThenceforward at each step I felt the wings\nIncreasing for my flight. When we had run\nO'er all the ladder to its topmost round,\nAs there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix'd\nHis eyes, and thus he spake: \"Both fires, my son,\nThe temporal and eternal, thou hast seen;\nAnd art arrived, where of itself my ken\nNo further reaches. I, with skill and art,\nThus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take\nFor guide. Thou hast o'ercome the steeper way,\nO'ercome the straiter. Lo! the sun, that darts\nHis beam upon my forehead: lo! the herb,\nThe arboreta and flowers, which of itself\nThis land pours forth profuse. Till those bright eyes[5]\nWith gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste\nTo succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down,\nOr wander where thou wilt. Expect no more\nSanction of warning voice or sign from me,\nFree of thy own arbitrament to chose,\nDiscreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense\n\n[5: The eyes of Beatrice.]\n\nWere henceforth error. I invest thee then\nWith crown and mitre, sovereign o'er thyself.\"\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 28\n\n\nCanto XXVIII\n\nArgument\n\nDante wanders through the forest of the terrestrial Paradise, till he is\nstopped by a stream, on the other side of which he beholds a fair lady,\nculling flowers. He speaks to her; and she, in reply, explains to him certain\nthings touching the nature of that place, and tells that the water, which\nflows between them, is here called Lethe, and in another place has the name of\nEunoe.\n\nThrough that celestial forest, whose thick shade\nWith lively greenness the new - springing day\nAttemper'd, eager now to roam, and search\nIts limits round, forthwith I left the bank;\nAlong the champain leisurely my way\nPursuing, o'er the ground, that on all sides\nDelicious odour breathed. A pleasant air,\nThat intermitted never, never veer'd,\nSmote on my temples, gently, as a wind\nOf softest influence: at which the sprays,\nObedient all, lean'd trembling to that part[1]\nWhere first the holy mountain casts his shade;\nYet were not so disorder'd, but that still\nUpon their top the feather'd quiristers\nApplied their wonted art, and with full joy\nWelcomed those hours of prime, and warbled shrill\nAmid the leaves, that to their jocund lays\nKept tenour; even as from branch to branch,\nAlong the piny forests on the shore\nOf Chiassi, rolls the gathering melody,\nWhen Eolus hath from his cavern loosed\nThe dripping south. Already had my steps,\nThough slow, so far into that ancient wood\nTransported me, I could not ken the place\nWhere I had enter'd; when, behold! my path\nWas bounded by a rill, which, to the left,\nWith little rippling waters bent the grass\nThat issued from its brink. On earth no wave\nHow clean soe'er, that would not seem to have\n\n[1: \"To that part.\" The west.]\n\nSome mixture in itself, compared with this,\nTranspicuous clear; yet darkly on it roll'd,\nDarkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne'er\nAdmits or sun or moon - light there to shine.\n\nMy feet advanced not; but my wondering eyes\nPass'd onward, o'er the streamlet to survey\nThe tender May - bloom, flush'd through many a hue,\nIn prodigal variety: and there,\nAs object, rising suddenly to view,\nThat from our bosom every thought beside\nWith the rare marvel chases, I beheld\nA lady[2] all alone, who, singing, went,\nAnd culling flower from flower, wherewith her way\nWas all o'er painted. \"Lady beautiful!\nThou, who (if looks, that use to speak the heart,\nArt worthy of our trust) with love's own beam\nDost warm thee,\" thus to her my speech I framed;\n\"Ah! please thee hither toward the streamlet bend\nThy steps so near, that I may list thy song.\nBeholding thee and this fair place, methinks,\nI call to mind where wander'd and how look'd\nProserpine, in that season, when her child\nThe mother lost, and she the bloomy spring.\"\n\n[2: Most of the commentators suppose that this lady, who in the last\nCanto is called Matilda, is the Countess Matilda, who endowed the Holy See\nwith the estates called the Patrimony of St. Peter, and died in 1115. But it\nseems more probable that she should be intended for an allegorical personage.]\n\nAs when a lady, turning in the dance,\nDoth foot it featly, and advances scarce\nOne step before the other to the ground;\nOver the yellow and vermilion flowers,\nThus turn'd she at my suit, most maiden - like\nValing her sober eyes; and came so near,\nThat I distinctly caught the dulcet sound.\nArriving where the limpid waters now\nLaved the greensward, her eyes she deign'd to raise,\nThat shot such splendour on me, as I ween\nNe'er glanced from Cytherea's, when her son\nHad sped his keenest weapon to her heart.\nUpon the opposite bank she stood and smiled;\nAs through her graceful fingers shifted still\n\nThe intermingling dyes, which without seed\nThat lofty land unbosoms. By the stream\nThree paces only were we sunder'd: yet,\nThe Hellespont, where Xerxes pass'd it o'er,\n(A curb for ever to the pride of man,[3])\nWas by Leander not more hateful held\nFor floating, with inhospitable wave,\n'Twixt Sestos and Abydos, than by me\nThat flood, because it gave no passage thence.\n\n[3: Because Xerxes had been so humbled, when he was compelled to\nrepass the Hellespont in one small bark, after having a little before crossed\nwith a prodigious army, in the hopes of subduing Greece.]\n\n\"Strangers ye come; and haply in this place,\nThat cradled human nature in its birth,\nWondering, ye not without suspicion view\nMy smiles: but that sweet strain of psalmody,\n'Thou, Lord! hast made me glad,'[4] will give ye light,\nWhich may uncloud your minds. And thou, who stand'st\nThe foremost, and didst make thy suit to me,\nSay if aught else thou wish to hear: for I\nCame prompt to answer every doubt of thine.\"\n\n[4: \"Thou, Lord! hast made me glad.\" - Psalm xcii. 4.]\n\nShe spake; and I replied: \"I know not how\nTo reconcile this wave, and rustling sound\nOf forest leaves, with what I late have heard\nOf opposite report.\" She answering thus:\n\"I will unfold the cause, whence that proceeds,\nWhich makes thee wonder; and so purge the cloud\nThat hath enwrapt thee. The First Good, whose joy\nIs only in Himself, created man,\nFor happiness; and gave this goodly place,\nHis pledge and earnest of eternal peace.\nFavour'd thus highly, through his own defect\nHe fell; and here made short sojourn; he fell,\nAnd, for the bitterness of sorrow, changed\nLaughter unblamed and ever - new delight.\nThat vapours none, exhaled from earth beneath,\nOr from the waters, (which, wherever heat\nAttracts them, follow), might ascend thus far\nTo vex man's peaceful state, this mountain rose\nSo high toward the Heaven, nor fears the rage\n\nOf elements contending; from that part\nExempted, where the gate his limit bars.\nBecause the circumambient air, throughout,\nWith its first impulse circles still, unless\nAught interpose to check or thwart its course;\nUpon the summit, which on every side\nTo visitation of the impassive air\nIs open, doth that motion strike, and makes\nBeneath its sway the umbrageous wood resound:\nAnd in the shaken plant such power resides,\nThat it impregnates with its efficacy\nThe voyaging breeze, upon whose subtle plume\nThat, wafted, flies abroad; and the other land,[5]\nReceiving, (as 'tis worthy in itself,\nOr in the clime, that warms it,) doth conceive;\nAnd from its womb produces many a tree\nOf various virtue. This when thou hast heard,\nThe marvel ceases, if in yonder earth\nSome plant, without apparent seed, be found\nTo fix its fibrous stem. And further learn,\nThat with prolific foison of all seeds\nThis holy plain is fill'd, and in itself\nBears fruit that ne'er was pluck'd on other soil.\n\n[5: The continent, inhabited by the living, and separated from\nPurgatory by the ocean, is affected (and that diversely, according to the\nnature of the soil, or the climate) by a virtue, conveyed to it by the winds\nfrom plants growing in the terrestrial Paradise, which is situated on the\nsummit of Purgatory; and this is the cause why some plants are found on earth\nwithout any apparent seed to produce them.]\n\n\"The water, thou behold'st, springs not from vein,\nRestored by vapour, that the cold converts;\nAs stream that intermittently repairs\nAnd spends his pulse of life; but issues forth\nFrom fountain, solid, undecaying, sure:\nAnd, by the Will Omnific, full supply\nFeeds whatsoe'er on either side it pours;\nOn this, devolved with power to take away\nRemembrance of offence; on that, to bring\nRemembrance back of every good deed done.\nFrom whence its name of Lethe on this part;\nOn the other, Eunoe: both of which must first\n\nBe tasted, ere it work; the last exceeding\nAll flavours else. Albeit thy thirst may now\nBe well contented, if I here break off,\nNo more revealing; yet a corollary\nI freely give beside: nor deem my words\nLess grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass\nThe stretch of promise. They, whose verse of yore\nThe golden age recorded and its bliss,\nOn the Parnassian mountain, of this place\nPerhaps had dream'd. Here was man guiltless; here\nPerpetual spring, and every fruit; and this\nThe far - famed nectar.\" Turning to the bards,\nWhen she had ceased, I noted in their looks\nA smile at her conclusion; then my face\nAgain directed to the lovely dame.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 29\n\n\nCanto XXIX\n\nArgument\n\nThe lady, who in a following Canto is called Matilda, moves along the\nside of the stream in a contrary direction to the current, and Dante keeps\nequal pace with her on the opposite bank. A marvellous sight, preceded by\nmusic, appears in view.\n\nSinging, as if enamour'd, she resumed\nAnd closed the song, with \"Blessed they[1] whose sins\nAre cover'd.\" Like the wood - nymphs then, that\nSingly across the sylvan shadows; one [tripp'd\nEager to view, and one to escape the sun;\nSo moved she on, against the current, up\nThe verdant rivage. I, her mincing step\nObserving, with as tardy step pursued.\n\n[1: \"Blessed they.\" - Psalm xxxii. 1.]\n\nBetween us not an hundred paces trod,\nThe bank, on each side bending equally,\nGave me to face the orient. Nor our way\nFar onward brought us, when to me at once\nShe turn'd, and cried: \"My brother! look, and hearken.\"\nAnd lo! a sudden lustre ran across\nThrough the great forest on all parts, so bright,\nI doubted whether lightning were abroad;\nBut that, expiring ever in the spleen\n\nThat doth unfold it, and this during still,\nAnd waxing still in splendour, made me question\nWhat it might be: and a sweet melody\nRan through the luminous air. Then did I chide,\nWith warrantable zeal, the hardihood\nOf our first, parent; for that there, where earth,\nStood in obedience to the Heavens, she only,\nWoman, the creature of an hour, endured not\nRestraint of any veil, which had she borne\nDevoutly, joys, ineffable as these,\nHad from the first, and long time since, been mine.\n\nWhile, through that wilderness of primly sweets\nThat never fade, suspense I walk'd, and yet\nExpectant of beatitude more high;\nBefore us, like a blazing fire, the air\nUnder the green boughs glow'd; and, for a song,\nDistinct the sound of melody was heard.\n\nO ye thrice holy virgins! for your sakes\nIf e'er I suffer'd hunger, cold, and watching,\nOccasion calls on me to crave your bounty.\nNow through my breast let Helicon his stream\nPour copious, and Urania[2] with her choir\nArise to aid me; while the verse unfolds\nThings, that do almost mock the grasp of thought.\n\n[2: \"Urania.\" Landino observes, that intending to sing of heavenly\nthings, he rightly invokes Urania. Thus Milton: \"Descend from Heaven, Urania,\nby that name If rightly thou art call'd.\" Paradise Lost, b. vii. 1.]\n\nOnward a space, what seem'd seven trees of gold\nThe intervening distance to mine eye\nFalsely presented; but, when I was come\nSo near them, that no lineament was lost\nOf those, with which a doubtful object, seen\nRemotely, plays on the misdeeming sense;\nThen did the faculty, that ministers\nDiscourse to reason, these for tapers of gold[3]\nDistinguish; and i' the singing trace the sound\n\"Hosanna!\" Above, their beauteous garniture\nFlamed with more ample lustre, than the moon\nThrough cloudless sky at midnight, in her noon.\n\n[3: See Rev. i. 12.]\n\nI turn'd me, full of wonder, to my guide;\nAnd he did answer with a countenance\nCharged with no less amazement: whence my view\nReverted to those lofty things, which came\nSo slowly moving toward us, that the bride\nWould have outstript them on her bridal day.\n\nThe lady call'd aloud: \"Why thus yet burns\nAffection in thee for these living lights,\nAnd dost not look on that which follows them?\"\n\nI straightway mark'd a tribe behind them walk,\nAs if attendant on their leaders, clothed\nWith raiment of such whiteness, as on earth\nWas never. On my left, the watery gleam\nBorrow'd, and gave me back, when there I look'd,\nAs in a mirror, my left side portray'd.\n\nWhen I had chosen on the river's edge\nSuch station, that the distance of the stream\nAlone did separate me; there I stay'd\nMy steps for clearer prospect, and beheld\nThe flames go onward, leaving, as they went,\nThe air behind them painted as with trail\nOf liveliest pencils; so distinct were mark'd\nAll those seven listed colours, whence the sun\nMaketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone.\nThese streaming gonfalons did flow beyond\nMy vision; and ten paces, as I guess,\nParted the outermost. Beneath a sky\nSo beautiful, came four and twenty elders[4],\nBy two and two, with flower - de - luces crown'd.\nAll sang one song: \"Blessed be thou[5] among\nThe daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness\nBlessed forever!\" After that the flowers,\nAnd the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink,\nWere free from that elected race; as light\nIn heaven doth second light, came after them\nFour[6] animals, each crown'd with verdurous leaf.\nWith six wings each was plumed; the plumage full\n\n[4: \"Upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting.\" - Rev. iv.\n4.]\n\n[5: \"Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy\nwomb.\" - Luke 1. 42.]\n\n[6: \"Four.\" The four evangelists.]\n\nOf eyes; and the eyes of Argus would be such,\nWere they endued with life. Reader! more rhymes\nI will not waste in shadowing forth their form:\nFor other need so straitens, that in this\nI may not give my bounty room. But read\nEzekiel;[7] for he paints them, from the north\nHow he beheld them come by Chebar's flood,\nIn whirlwind, cloud, and fire; and even such\nAs thou shalt find them character'd by him,\nHere were they; save as to the pennons: there,\nFrom him departing, John[8] accords with me.\n\n[7: \"Ezekiel.\" \"And I looked, and behold, a whirlwind came out of the\nnorth, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about\nit, and out of the midst thereof as the color of amber, out of the midst of\nfire. Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living\ncreatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man. And\nevery one had four faces, and every one had four wings.\" - Ezekiel, i. 4, 5,\n6.]\n\n[8: \"John.\" \"And the four beasts had each of them six wings about\nhim.\" - Rev. iv. 8.]\n\nThe space, surrounded by the four, enclosed\nA car triumphal:[9] on two wheels it came,\nDrawn at a Gryphon's[10] neck; and he above\nStretch'd either wing uplifted, 'tween the midst\nAnd the three listed hues, on each side, three;\nSo that the wings did cleave or injure none;\nAnd out of sight they rose. The members, far\nAs he was bird, were golden; white the rest,\nwith vermeil interven'd. So beautiful\nA car, in Rome, ne'er graced Augustus' pomp,\nOr Africanus': e'en the sun's itself\nWere poor to this; that chariot of the sun,\nErroneous, which in blazing ruin fell\nAt Tellus' prayer devout, by the just doom\nMysterious of all - seeing Jove. Three nymphs[11],\nAt the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance:\nThe one so ruddy, that her form had scarce\nBeen known within a furnace of clear flame;\n\n[9: Either the Christian Church or perhaps the papal chair.]\n\n[10: Under the griffin (gryphon), an imaginary creature, the fore -\npart of which is an eagle, and the hinder a lion, is shadowed forth the union\nof the divine and the human nature in Jesus Christ.]\n\n[11: The three evangelical virtues: Charity, Hope, and Faith. Faith\nmay be produced by charity, or charity by faith, but the inducements to hope\nmust arise either from one or other of these.]\n\nThe next did look, as if the flesh and bones\nWere emerald; snow new - fallen seem'd the third.\nNow seem'd the white to lead, the ruddy now;\nAnd from her song who led, the others took\nTheir measure, swift or slow. At the other wheel,\nA band quaternion[12], each in purple clad,\nAdvanced with festal step, as, of them, one\nThe rest conducted;[13] one, upon whose front\nThree eyes were seen. In rear of all this group,\nTwo old men[14] I beheld, dissimilar\nIn raiment, but in port and gesture like,\nSolid and mainly grave; of whom, the one\nDid show himself some favor'd counsellor\nOf the great Coan,[15] him, whom nature made\nTo serve the costliest creature of her tribe:\nHis fellow mark'd an opposite intent;\nBearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge,\nE'en as I viewed it with the flood between,\nAppall'd me. Next, four others[16] I beheld\nOf humble seeming: and, behind them all,\nOne single old man,[17] sleeping as he came,\nWith a shrewd visage. And these seven, each\nLike the first troop were habited; but wore\nNo braid of lilies on their temples wreathed.\nRather, with roses and each vermeil flower,\nA sight, but little distant, might have sworn,\nThat they were all on fire above their brow.\n\n[12: The four moral virtues, of whom Prudence directs the others.]\n\n[13: Prudence, described with three eyes, because she regards the\npast, the present, and the future.]\n\n[14: \"Two old men.\" St. Luke, the physician, characterized as the\nwriter of the Acts of the Apostles, and St. Paul, represented with a sword, on\naccount, as it should seem, of the power of his style.]\n\n[15: Hippocrates, \"whom nature made for the benefit of her favorite\ncreature, man.\"]\n\n[16: \"The commentators,\" says Venturi, \"suppose these four to be the\nfour evangelists; but I should rather take them to be four principal doctors\nof the Church.\" Yet both Landino and Vellutello expressly call them the\nauthors of the epistles, James, Peter, John, and Jude.]\n\n[17: As some say, St. John, under the character of the author of the\nApocalypse.]\n\nWhen as the car was o'er against me, straight\nWas heard a thundering, at whose voice it seem'd\nThe chosen multitude were stay'd; for there,\nWith the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 30\n\n\nCanto XXX\n\nArgument\n\nBeatrice descends from Heaven, and rebukes the Poet.\n\nSoon as that polar light,[1] fair ornament\nOf the first Heaven, which hath never known\nSetting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil\nOf other cloud than sin, to duty there\nEach one convoying, as that lower doth\nThe steersman to his port, stood firmly fix'd;\nForthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van\nBetween the Gryphon and its radiance came,\nDid turn them to the car, as to their rest:\nAnd one, as if commission'd from above,\nIn holy chant thrice shouted forth aloud;\n\"Come,[2] spouse! from Libanus:\" and all the rest\nTook up the song. - At the last audit, so\nThe blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each\nUplifting lightly his new - vested flesh;\nAs, on the sacred litter, at the voice\nAuthoritative of that elder, sprang\nA hundred ministers and messengers\nOf life eternal. \"Blessed[3] thou, who comest!\"\nAnd, \"Oh!\" they cried, \"from full hands scatter ye\nUnwithering lilies\": and, so saying, cast\nFlowers overhead and round them on all sides.\n\n[1: The seven candlesticks of gold, which he calls the polar light of\nHeaven itself, because they perform the same office for Christians that the\npolar star does for mariners, in guiding them to their port.]\n\n[2: \"Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me, from Lebanon.\" -\nSong of Solomon, iv. 8.]\n\n[3: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.\" - Matt. xxi.\n9.]\n\nI have beheld, ere now, at break of day,\nThe eastern clime all roseate; and the sky\nOpposed, one deep and beautiful serene;\nAnd the sun's face so shaded, and with mists\nAttemper'd, at his rising, that the eye\nLong while endured the sight: thus, in a cloud\nOf flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,\nAnd down within and outside of the car\nFell showering, in white veil with olive wreathed,\nA virgin in my view appear'd, beneath\n\nGreen mantle, robed in hue of living flame:\nAnd o'er my spirit, that so long a time\nHad from her presence felt no shuddering dread,\nAlbeit mine eyes discern'd her not, there moved\nA hidden virtue from her, at whose touch\nThe power of ancient love was strong within me.\n\nNo sooner on my vision streaming, smote\nThe heavenly influence, which, years past, and e'en\nIn childhood, thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I\nTurn'd me to leftward; panting, like a babe,\nThat flees for refuge to his mother's breast,\nIf aught have terrified or work'd him woe:\nAnd would have cried, \"There is no dram of blood,\nThat doth not quiver in me. The old flame\nThrows out clear tokens of reviving fire.\"\nBut Virgil had bereaved us of himself;\nVirgil, my best - loved father, Virgil, he\nTo whom I gave me up for safety: nor\nAll, our prime mother lost, avail'd to save\nMy undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears.\n\n\"Dante! weep not that Virgil leaves thee; nay,\nWeep thou not yet: behoves thee feel the edge\nOf other sword; and thou shalt weep for that.\"\n\nAs to the prow or stern, some admiral\nPaces the deck, inspiriting his crew,\nWhen 'mid the sail - yards all hands ply aloof;\nThus, on the left side of the car, I saw\n(Turning me at the sound of mine own name,\nWhich here I am compell'd to register)\nThe virgin station'd, who before appear'd\nVeil'd in that festive shower angelical.\n\nTowards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;\nThough from her brow the veil descending, bound\nWith foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not\nThat I beheld her clearly: then with act\nFull royal, still insulting o'er her thrall,\nAdded, as one who, speaking, keepeth back\nThe bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:\n\"Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am\nBeatrice. What! and hast thou deign'd at last\nApproach the mountain? Knewest not, O man!\nThy happiness is here?\" Down fell mine eyes\nOn the clear fount; but there, myself espying,\nRecoil'd, and sought the greensward; such a weight\nOf shame was on my forehead. With a mien\nOf that stern majesty, which doth surround\nA mother's presence to her awe - struck child,\nShe look'd; a flavor of such bitterness\nWas mingled in her pity. There her words\nBrake off; and suddenly the angels sang,\n\"In thee, O gracious Lord! my hope hath been\":\nBut[4] went no further than, \"Thou, Lord! hast set\nMy feet in ample room\" As snow, that lies,\nAmidst the living rafters on the back\nOf Italy, congeal'd, when drifted high\nAnd closely piled by rough Sclavonian blasts;\nBreathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,\nAnd straightway melting it distills away,\nLike a fire - wasted taper: thus was I,\nWithout a sigh or tear, or everithese\nDid sing, that, with the chiming of Heaven's sphere,\nStill in their warbling chime: but when the strain\nOf dulcet symphony express'd for me\nTheir soft compassion, more than could the words,\n\"Virgin! why so consumest him?\" then, the ice\nCongeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself\nTo spirit and water; and with anguish forth\nGush'd, through the lips and eyelids, from the heart.\n\n[4: \"But.\" They sang the thirty - first Psalm, to the end of the\neighth verse. What follows would not have suited the place or the occasion.]\n\nUpon the chariot's same edge still she stood,\nImmovable; and thus address'd her words\nTo those bright semblances with pity touch'd:\n\"Ye in the eternal day your vigils keep;\nSo that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,\nConveys from you a single step, in all\nThe goings on of time: thence, with more heed\nI shape mine answer, for his ear intended,\nWho there stands weeping; that the sorrow now\nMay equal the transgression. Not alone\n\nThrough operation of the mighty orbs,\nThat mark each seed to some predestined aim,\nAs with aspect or fortunate or ill\nThe constellations meet; but through benign\nLargess of heavenly graces, which rain down\nFrom such a height as mocks our vision, this man\nWas, in the freshness of his being, such,\nSo gifted virtually, that in him\nAll better habits wondrously had thrived\nThe more of kindly strength is in the soil,\nSo much doth evil seed and lack of culture\nMar it the more, and make it run to wildness.\nThese looks sometime upheld him; for I show'd\nMy youthful eyes, and led him by their light\nIn upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd\nTee threshold of my second age, and changed\nMy mortal for immortal; then he left me,\nAnd gave himself to others. When from flesh\nTo spirit I had risen, and increase\nOf beauty and of virtue circled me,\nI was less dear to him, and valued less.\nHis steps were turn'd into deceitful ways,\nFollowing false images of good, that make\nNo promise perfect. Nor avail'd me aught\nTo sue for inspirations, with the which,\nI, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,\nDid call him back; of them, so little reck'd him.\nSuch depth he fell, that all device was short\nOf his preserving, save that he should view\nThe children of perdition. To this end\nI visited the purlieus of the dead:\nAnd one, who hath conducted him thus high,\nReceived my supplications urged with weeping.\nIt were a breaking of God's high decree,\nIf Lethe should be pass'd, and such food[5] tasted,\nWithout the cost of some repentant tear.\"\n\n[5: The oblivion of sins.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 31\n\n\nCanto XXXI\n\nArgument\n\nBeatrice continues her reprehension of Dante, who confesses his error,\nand falls to the ground; coming to himself again, he is by Matilda drawn\nthrough the waters of Lethe, and presented first to the four virgins who\nfigure the cardinal virtues; these in their turn lead him to the Gryphon, a\nsymbol of our Saviour; and the three virgins, representing the evangelical\nvirtues, intercede for him with Beatrice, that she would display to him her\nsecond beauty.\n\n\"O Thou!\" her words she thus without delay\nResuming, turn'd their point on me, to whom\nThey, with but lateral edge,[1] seem'd harsh before:\n\"Say thou, who stand'st beyond the holy stream,\nIf this be true. A charge, so grievous, needs\nThine own avowal.\" On my faculty\nSuch strange amazement hung, the voice expired\nImperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.\n\n[1: \"With but lateral edge.\" The words of Beatrice, when not\naddressed directly to himself, but spoken of him to the Angel, Dante had\nthought sufficiently harsh.]\n\nA little space refraining, then she spake:\n\"What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave\nOn thy remembrances of evil yet\nHath done no injury.\" A mingled sense\nOf fear and of confusion, from my lips\nDid such a \"Yea\" produce, as needed help\nOf vision to interpret. As when breaks,\nIn act to be discharged, a cross - bow bent\nBeyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o'erstretch'd;\nThe flagging weapon feebly hits the mark:\nThus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst,\nBeneath the heavy load: and thus my voice\nWas slacken'd on its way. She straight began:\n\"When my desire invited thee to love\nThe good, which sets a bound to our aspirings;\nWhat bar of thwarting foss or linked chain\nDid meet thee, that thou so shouldst quit the hope\nOf further progress? or what bait of ease,\nOr promise of allurement, led thee on\nElsewhere, that thou elsewhere shouldst rather wait?\"\n\nA bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice\nTo answer; hardly to these sounds my lips\n\nGave utterance, wailing: \"Thy fair looks withdrawn,\nThings present, with deceitful pleasures, turn'd\nMy steps aside.\" She answering spake: \"Hadst thou\nBeen silent, or denied what thou avow'st,\nThou hadst not hid thy sin the more; such eye\nObserves it. But whene'er the sinner's cheek\nBreaks forth into the precious - streaming tears\nOf self - accusing, in our court the wheel\nOf justice doth run counter to the edge.[2]\nHowe'er, that thou mayst profit by thy shame\nFor errors past, and that henceforth more strength\nMay arm thee, when thou hear'st the Syren - voice;\nLay thou aside the motive to this grief,\nAnd lend attentive ear, while I unfold\nHow opposite a way my buried flesh\nShould have impell'd thee. Never didst thou spy,\nIn art or nature, aught so passing sweet,\nAs were the limbs that in their beauteous frame\nEnclosed me, and are scatter'd now in dust.\nIf sweetest thing thus fail'd thee with my death,\nWhat, afterward, of moral, should thy wish\nHave tempted? When thou first hadst felt the dart\nOf perishable things, in my departing\nFor better realms, thy wing thou shouldst have pruned\nTo follow me; and never stoop'd again,\nTo 'bide a second blow, for a slight girl,[3]\nOr other gaud as transient and as vain.\nThe new and inexperienced bird[4] awaits,\nTwice it may be, or thrice, the fowler's aim;\nBut in the sight of one whose plumes are full,\nIn vain the net is spread, the arrow wing'd.\"\n\n[2: \"The weapons of divine justice are blunted by the confession and\nsorrow of the offender.\"]\n\n[3: \"For a slight girl.\" Daniello and Venturi say that this alludes\nto Gentucca of Lucca, mentioned in the twenty - fourth Canto.]\n\n[4: \"Bird.\" \"Surely in vain the net is spread in the sight of any\nbird.\" - Prov. i. 17.]\n\nI stood, as children silent and ashamed\nStand, listening, with their eyes upon the earth,\nAcknowledging their fault, and self - condemn'd.\nAnd she resumed: \"If, but to hear, thus pains thee,\nRaise thou thy beard, and lo! what sight shall do.\"\n\nWith less reluctance yields a sturdy holm,\nRent from its fibres by a blast, that blows\nFrom off the pole, or from Iarbas' land,[5]\nThan I at her behest my visage raised:\nAnd thus the face denoting by the beard,\nI mark'd the secret sting her words convey'd.\n\n[5: \"From Iarbas' land.\" The south.]\n\nNo sooner lifted I mine aspect up,\nThan I perceived those primal creatures cease\nTheir flowery sprinkling; and mine eyes beheld\n(Yet unassured and wavering in their view)\nBeatrice; she, who toward the mystic shape,\nThat joins two natures in one form, had turn'd:\nAnd, even under shadow of her veil,\nAnd parted by the verdant rill that flow'd\nBetween, in loveliness she seem'd as much\nHer former self surpassing, as on earth\nAll others she surpass'd. Remorseful goads\nShot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more\nIts love had late beguiled me, now the more\nWas loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote\nThe bitter consciousness, that on the ground\nO'erpower'd I fell: and what my state was then,\nShe knows, who was the cause. When now my strength\nFlow'd back, returning outward from the heart,\nThe lady,[6] whom alone I first had seen,\nI found above me. \"Loose me not,\" she cried:\n\"Loose not thy hold:\" and lo! had dragg'd me high\nAs to my neck into the stream; while she,\nStill as she drew me after, swept along,\nSwift as a shuttle, bounding o'er the wave.\n\n[6: \"The lady.\" Matilda.]\n\nThe blessed shore approaching, then was heard\nSo sweetly, \"Tu asperges me,\" that I\nMay not remember, much less tell the sound.\n\nThe beauteous dame, her arms expanding, clasp'd\nMy temples, and immerged me where 'twas fit\nThe wave should drench me: and, thence raising up,\nWithin the fourfold dance of lovely nymphs\nPresented me so laved; and with their arm\nThey each did cover me. \"Here are we nymphs,\n\nAnd in the heaven are stars. Or ever earth\nWas visited of Beatrice, we,\nAppointed for her handmaids, tended on her.\nWe to her eyes will lead thee: but the light\nOf gladness, that is in them, well to scan,\nThose yonder three, of deeper ken than ours,\nThy sight shall quicken.\" Thus began their song:\nAnd then they led me to the Gryphon's breast,\nWhere, turn'd toward us, Beatrice stood.\n\"Spare not thy vision. We have station'd thee\nBefore the emeralds, whence love, erewhile,\nHath drawn his weapons on thee.\" As they spake,\nA thousand fervent wishes riveted\nMine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood,\nStill fix'd toward the Gryphon, motionless.\nAs the sun strikes a mirror, even thus\nWithin those orbs the twofold being shone;\nForever varying, in one figure now\nReflected, now in other. Reader! muse\nHow wondrous in my sight it seem'd, to mark\nA thing, albeit steadfast in itself,\nYet in its imaged semblance mutable.\n\nFull of amaze, and joyous, while my soul\nFed on the viand, whereof still desire\nGrows with satiety; the other three,\nWith gesture that declared a loftier line,\nAdvanced: to their own carol, on they came\nDancing, in festive ring angelical.\n\n\"Turn, Beatrice!\" was their song: \"Oh! turn\nThy saintly sight on this thy faithful one,\nWho, to behold thee, many a wearisome pace\nHath measured. Gracious at our prayer, vouchsafe\nUnveiled to him thy cheeks; that he may mark\nThy second beauty, now conceal'd.\" O splendour!\nO sacred light eternal! who is he,\nSo pale with musing in Pierian shades,\nOr with that fount so lavishly imbued,\nWhose spirit should not fail him in the essay\nTo represent thee such as thou didst seem,\nWhen under cope of the still - chiming Heaven\nThou gavest to open air thy charms reveal'd?\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 32\n\n\nCanto XXXII\n\nArgument\n\nDante is warned not to gaze too fixedly on Beatrice. The procession moves\non, accompanied by Matilda, Statius, and Dante, till they reach an exceeding\nlofty tree, where divers strange chances befall.\n\nMine eyes with such an eager coveting\nWere bent to rid them of their ten years' thirst,[1]\nNot other sense was waking: and e'en they\nWere fenced on either side from heed of aught;\nSo tangled, in its custom'd toils, that smile\nOf saintly brightness drew me to itself:\nWhen forcibly, toward the left, my sight\nThe sacred virgins turn'd; for from their lips\nI heard the warning sounds: \"Too fix'd a gaze!\"\n\n[1: \"Their ten years' thirst.\" Beatrice had been dead ten years.]\n\nA while my vision labour'd; as when late\nUpon the o'erstrained eyes the sun hath smote:\nBut soon, to lesser object, as the view\nWas now recover'd, (lesser in respect\nTo that excess of sensible, whence late\nI had perforce been sunder'd), on their right\nI mark'd that glorious army wheel, and turn,\nAgainst the sun and sevenfold lights, their front.\nAs when, their bucklers for protection raised,\nA well - ranged troop, with portly banners curl'd,\nWheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground;\nE'en thus the goodly regiment of Heaven\nProceeding, all did pass us, ere the car\nHad sloped his beam. Attendant at the wheels\nThe damsels turn'd; and on the Gryphon moved\nThe sacred burden, with a pace so smooth,\nNo feather on him trembled. The fair dame,\nWho through the wave had drawn me, companied\nBy Statius and myself, pursued the wheel,\nWhose orbit, rolling, mark'd a lesser arch.\n\nThrough the high wood, now void, (the more her blame,\nWho by the serpent was beguiled), I pass'd,\nWith step in cadence to the harmony\nAngelic. Onward had we moved, as far,\nPerchance, as arrow at three several flights\nFull wing'd had sped, when from her station down\nDescended Beatrice. With one voice\nAll murmur'd \"Adam\"; circling next a plant\nDespoil'd of flowers and leaf, on every bough,\nIts tresses, spreading more as more they rose,\nWere such, as 'midst their forest wilds, for height,\nThe Indians might have gazed at. \"Blessed thou,\nGryphon![2] whose beak hath never pluck'd that tree\nPleasant to taste: for hence the appetite\nWas warp'd to evil.\" Round the stately trunk\nThus shouted forth the rest, to whom return'd\nThe animal twice - gender'd: \"Yea! for so\nThe generation of the just are saved.\"\nAnd turning to the chariot - pole, to foot\nHe drew it of the widow'd branch, and bound\nThere, left unto the stock whereon it grew.\n\n[2: \"Gryphon.\" Our Saviour's submission to the Roman Empire appears\nto be intended, and particularly his injunction to \"render unto Caesar the\nthings that are Caesar's.\"]\n\nAs when large floods of radiance from above\nStream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends\nNext after setting of the scaly sign,\nOur plants then burgeon, and each wears anew\nHis wonted colours, ere the sun have yoked\nBeneath another star his flamy steeds;\nThus putting forth a hue more faint than rose,\nAnd deeper than the violet, was renew'd\nThe plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.\nUnearthly was the hymn, which then arose.\nI understood it not, nor to the end\nEndured the harmony. Had I the skill\nTo pencil forth how closed the unpitying eyes\nSlumbering, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paid\nSo dearly for their watching), then, like painter,\nThat with a model paints, I might design\n\nThe manner of my falling into sleep.\nBut feign who will the slumber cunningly,\nI pass it by to when I waked; and tell,\nHow suddenly a flash of splendour rent\nThe curtain of my sleep, and one cries out,\n\"Arise; what dost thou?\" As the chosen three,\nOn Tabor's mount, admitted to behold\nThe blossoming of that fair tree,[3] whose fruit\nIs coveted of Angels, and doth make\nPerpetual feast in Heaven; to themselves\nReturning, at the word whence deeper sleeps[4]\nWere broken, they their tribe diminish'd saw;\nBoth Moses and Elias gone, and changed\nThe stole their Master wore; thus to myself\nReturning, over me beheld I stand\nThe piteous one,[5] who, cross the stream, had brought\nMy steps. \"And where,\" all doubting, I exclaim'd,\n\"Is Beatrice?\" - \"See her,\" she replied,\n\"Beneath the fresh leaf, seated on its root.\nBehold the associate choir that circles her.\nThe others, with a melody more sweet\nAnd more profound, journeying to higher realms,\nUpon the Gryphon tend.\" If there her words\nWere closed, I know not; but mine eyes had now\nTa'en view of her, by whom all other thoughts\nWere barr'd admittance. On the very ground\nAlone she sat, as she had there been left\nA guard upon the wain, which I beheld\nBound to the twoform beast. The seven nymphs\nDid make themselves a cloister round about her;\nAnd, in their hands, upheld those lights[6] secure\nFrom blast septentrion and the gusty south.\n\n[3: \"The blossoming of that fair tree.\" Our Saviour's\ntransfiguration. \"As the apple - tree among the trees of the wood, so is my\nbeloved among the sons.\" - Solomon's Song, ii. 3.]\n\n[4: \"Deeper sleeps.\" The sleep of death, in the instance of the ruler\nof the synagogue's daughter and of Lazarus.\"]\n\n[5: \"The piteous one.\" Matilda.]\n\n[6: \"Those lights.\" The tapers of gold.]\n\n\"A little while thou shalt be forester here;\nAnd citizen shalt be, forever with me,\nOf that true Rome,[7] wherein Christ dwells a Roman,\n\n[7: \"Of that true Rome.\" Of Heaven.]\n\nTo profit the misguided world, keep now\nThine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest,\nTake heed thou write, returning to that place.\"[8]\n\n[8: \"To that place.\" To the earth.]\n\nThus Beatrice: at whose feet inclined\nDevout, at her behest, my thought and eyes\nI, as she bade, directed. Never fire,\nWith so swift motion, forth a stormy cloud\nLeap'd downward from the welkin's farthest bound,\nAs I beheld the bird of Jove,[9] descen\nDown through the tree; and, as he rush'd, the rind\nDisparting crush beneath him; buds much more,\nAnd leaflets. On the car, with all his might\nHe struck; whence, staggering, like a ship it reel'd,\nAt random driven, to starboard now, o'ercome,\nAnd now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.\n\n[9: \"The bird of Jove.\" This, which is imitated from Ezekiel, xvii.\n3, 4, is typical of the persecutions which the Church sustained from the Roman\nemperors.]\n\nNext, springing up into the chariot's womb,\nA fox[10] I saw, with hunger seeming pined\nOf all good food. But, for his ugly sins\nThe saintly maid rebuking him, away\nScampering he turn'd, fast as his hide - bound corpse\nWould bear him. Next, from whence before he came,\nI saw the eagle dart into the hull\nO' the car, and leave it with his feathers lined:[11]\nAnd then a voice, like that which issues forth\nFrom heart with sorrow rived, did issue forth\nFrom Heaven, and \"O poor bark of mine!\" it cried,\n\"How badly art thou freighted.\" Then it seem'd\nThat the earth open'd, between either wheel;\nAnd I beheld a dragon[12] issue thence,\nThat through the chariot fix'd his forked train;\nAnd like a wasp, that draggeth back the sting,\nSo drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg'd\nPart of the bottom forth; and went his way,\nExulting. What remain'd, as lively turf\n\n[10: \"A fox.\" By the fox probably is represented the treachery of the\nheretics.]\n\n[11: \"With his feathers lined.\" In allusion to the donations made by\nConstantine to the Church.]\n\n[12: \"A dragon.\" Probably Mohammed; for what Lombardi offers to the\ncontrary is far from satisfactory.]\n\nWith green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes,[13]\nWhich haply had, with purpose chaste and kind,\nBeen offer'd; and therewith were clothed the wheels,\nBoth one and other, and the beam, so quickly,\nA sigh were not breathed sooner. Thus transform'd,\nThe holy structure, through its several parts,\nDid put forth heads;[14] three on the beam, and one\nOn every side: the first like oxen horn'd;\nBut with a single horn upon their front,\nThe four. Like monster, sight hath never seen.\nO'er it[15] methought there sat, secure as rock\nOn mountain's lofty top, a shameless whore,\nWhose ken roved loosely round her. At her side,\nAs 't were that none might bear her off, I saw\nA giant stand; and ever and anon\nThey mingled kisses. But, her lustful eyes\nChancing on me to wander, that fell minion\nScourged her from head to foot all o'er; then full\nOf jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloosed\nThe monster, and dragg'd on,[16] so far across\nThe forest, that from me its shades alone\nShielded the harlot and the new - form'd brute.\n\n[13: \"With plumes.\" The increase of wealth and temporal dominion,\nwhich followed the supposed gift of Constantine.]\n\n[14: \"Heads.\" By the seven heads, it is supposed with sufficient\nprobability, are meant the seven capital sins: by the three with two horns,\npride, anger, and avarice, injurious both to man himself and to his neighbor:\nby the four with one horn, gluttony, gloominess, concupiscence, and envy,\nhurtful, at least in their primary effects, chiefly to him who is guilty of\nthem.]\n\n[15: \"O'er it.\" The harlot is thought to represent the state of the\nChurch under Boniface VIII, and the giant to figure Philip IV of France.]\n\n[16: \"Dragg'd on.\" The removal of the Pope's residence from Rome to\nAvignon is pointed at.]\n\n\n## Purgatory Canto 33\n\n\nCanto XXXIII\n\nArgument\n\nAfter a hymn sung, Beatrice leaves the tree, and takes with her the seven\nvirgins, Matilda, Statius, and Dante. She then darkly predicts to our Poet\nsome future events. Lastly, the whole band arrive at the fountain, from whence\nthe two streams, Lethe and Eunoe, separating, flow different ways; and\nMatilda, at the desire of Beatrice, causes our Poet to drink of the latter\nstream.\n\n\"The heathen,[1] Lord! are come:\" responsive thus,\nThe trinal now, and now the virgin band\nQuaternion, their sweet psalmody began,\nWeeping; and Beatrice listen'd, sad\nAnd sighing, to the song, in such a mood,\nThat Mary, as she stood beside the Cross,\nWas scarce more changed. But when they gave her place\nTo speak, then, risen upright on her feet,\nShe, with a colour glowing bright as fire,\nDid answer: \"Yet a little while,[2] and ye\nShall see me not; and, my beloved sisters!\nAgain a little while, and ye shall see me.\"\n\n[1: \"The heathen.\" \"O God, the heathen are come into thine\ninheritance.\" - Psalm lxxix. 1.]\n\n[2: \"Yet a little while.\" \"A little while, and ye shall not see me;\nand again a little while, and ye shall see me.\" - John xvi. 16.]\n\nBefore her then she marshal'd all the seven;\nAnd, beckoning only, motion'd me, the dame,\nAnd that remaining sage,[3] to follow her.\n\n[3: \"That remaining sage.\" Statius.]\n\nSo on she pass'd; and had not set, I ween,\nHer tenth step to the ground, when, with mine eyes\nHer eyes encountered; and, with visage mild,\n\"So mend thy pace,\" she cried, \"that if my words\nAddress thee, thou mayst still be aptly placed\nTo hear them.\" Soon as duly to her side\nI now had hasten'd: \"Brother!\" she began,\n\"Why makest thou no attempt at questioning,\nAs thus we walk together?\" Like to those\nWho, speaking with too reverent an awe\nBefore their betters, draw not forth the voice\nAlive unto their lips, befell me then\nThat I in sounds imperfect thus began:\n\"Lady! what I have need of, that thou know'st;\nAnd what will suit my need.\" She answering thus:\n\n\"Of fearfulness and shame, I will that thou\nHenceforth do rid thee; that thou speak no more,\nAs one who dreams. Thus far be taught of me:\nThe vessel which thou saw'st the serpent break,\nWas, and is not:[4] let him, who hath the blame,\nHope not to scare God's vengeance with a sop.[5]\nWithout an heir forever shall not be\nThat eagle,[6] he, who left the chariot plumed,\nWhich monster made it first and next a prey.\nPlainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars\nE'en now approaching, whose conjunction, free\nFrom all impediment and bar, brings on\nA season, in the which, one sent from God,\n(Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out,)\nThat foul one, and the accomplice of her guilt,\nThe giant, both, shall slay. And if perchance\nMy saying, dark as Themis or as Sphinx,\nFail to persuade thee, (since like them it foils\nThe intellect with blindness), yet ere long\nEvents shall be the Naiads, that will solve\nThis knotty riddle; and no damage light\nOn flock or field. Take heed; and as these words\nBy me are utter'd, teach them even so\nTo those who live that life, which is a race\nTo death: and when thou writest them, keep in mind\nNot to conceal how thou hast seen the plant,\nThat twice[7] hath now been spoil'd. This whoso robs,\nThis whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed\nSins against God, who for His use alone\nCreating hallow'd it. For taste of this,\n\n[4: \"Was, and is not.\" \"The beast that was, and is not.\" - Rev. xvii.\n11.]\n\n[5: \"Hope not to scare God's vengeance with a sop.\" \"Let not him who\nhath occasioned the destruction of the Church, that vessel which the serpent\nbrake, hope to appease the anger of the Deity by any outward acts of\nreligious, or rather superstitious, ceremony; such as was that, in our Poet's\ntime, performed by a murderer at Florence, who imagined himself secure from\nvengeance, if he ate a sop of bread in wine upon the grave of the person\nmurdered, within the space of nine days.\"]\n\n[6: \"That eagle.\" He prognosticates that the Emperor of Germany will\nnot always continue to submit to the usurpations of the Pope, and foretells\nthe coming of Henry VII, Duke of Luxemburg, signified by the numerical figures\nDVX; or, as Lombardi supposes, of Can Grande della Scala, appointed the leader\nof the Ghibelline forces.]\n\n[7: \"Twice.\" First by the eagle and next by the giant.]\n\nIn pain and in desire, five thousand years\nAnd upward, the first soul did yearn for him\nWho punish'd in himself the fatal gust.\n\n\"Thy reason slumbers, if it deem this height,\nAnd summit thus inverted, of the plant,\nWithout due cause: and were not vainer thoughts,\nAs Elsa's numbing waters,[8] to thy soul,\nAnd their fond pleasures had not dyed it dark\nAs Pyramus the mulberry; thou hadst seen,\nIn such momentous circumstance alone,\nGod's equal justice morally implied\nIn the forbidden tree. But since I mark thee,\nIn understanding, harden'd into stone,\nAnd, to that hardness, spotted too and stain'd,\nSo that thine eye is dazzled at my word;\nI will, that, if not written, yet at least\nPainted thou take it in thee, for the cause,\nThat one brings home his staff inwreathed with palm.\"\n\n[8: \"Elsa's numbing waters.\" The Elsa, a little stream, which flows\ninto the Arno about twenty miles below Florence, is said to possess a\npetrifying quality.]\n\nI thus: \"As wax by seal, that changeth not\nIts impress, now is stamp'd my brain by thee.\nBut wherefore soars thy wish'd - for speech so high\nBeyond my sight, that loses it the more,\nThe more it strains to reach it?\" - \"To the end\nThat thou mayst know,\" she answer'd straight, \"the school,\nThat thou hast follow'd; and how far behind,\nWhen following my discourse, its learning halts:\nAnd mayst behold your art, from the divine\nAs distant, as the disagreement is\n'Twixt earth and Heaven's most high and rapturous orb.\"\n\n\"I not remember,\" I replied, \"that e'er\nI was estranged from thee; nor for such fault\nDoth conscience chide me.\" Smiling she return'd:\n\"If thou canst not remember, call to mind\nHow lately thou hast drunk of Lethe's wave;\nAnd, sure as smoke doth indicate a flame,\nIn that forgetfulness itself conclude\nBlame from thy alienated will incurr'd.\n\nFrom henceforth, verily, my words shall be\nAs naked, as will suit them to appear\nIn thy unpractised view.\" More sparkling now,\nAnd with retarded course, the sun possess'd\nThe circle of mid - day, that varies still\nAs the aspect varies of each several clime;\nWhen, as one, sent in vaward of a troop\nFor escort, pauses, if perchance he spy\nVestige of somewhat strange and rare; so paused\nThe sevenfold band, arriving at the verge\nOf a dun umbrage hoar, such as is seen,\nBeneath green leaves and gloomy branches, oft\nTo overbrow a bleak and alpine cliff.\nAnd, where they stood, before them, as it seem'd,\nI, Tigris and Euphrates both, beheld\nForth from one fountain issue; and, like friends,\nLinger at parting. \"O enlightening beam!\nO glory of our kind! beseech thee say\nWhat water this, which, from one source derived,\nItself removes to distance from itself?\"\n\nTo such entreaty answer thus was made:\n\"Entreat Matilda, that she teach thee this.\"\n\nAnd here, as one who clears himself of blame\nImputed, the fair dame return'd: \"Of me\nHe this and more hath learnt; and I am safe\nThat Lethe's water hath not hid it from him.\"\n\nAnd Beatrice: \"Some more pressing care,\nThat oft the memory 'reaves, perchance hath made\nHis mind's eye dark. But lo, where Eunoe flows!\nLead thither; and, as thou art wont, revive\nHis fainting virtue.\" As a courteous spirit,\nThat proffers no excuses, but as soon\nAs he hath token of another's will,\nMakes it his own; when she had ta'en me, thus\nThe lovely maiden moved her on, and call'd\nTo Statius, with an air most lady - like:\n\"Come thou with him.\" Were further space allow'd,\nThen, Reader! might I sing, though but in part,\nThat beverage, with whose sweetness I had ne'er\nBeen sated. But, since all the leaves are full,\nAppointed for this second strain, mine art\nWith warning bridle checks me. I return'd\nFrom the most holy wave, regenerate,\nE'en as new plants renew'd with foliage new,\nPure and made apt for mounting to the stars.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 1\n\n\nCanto I\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet ascends with Beatrice toward the first heaven; and is, by her,\nresolved of certain doubts which arise in his mind.\n\nHis glory, by whose might all things are moved,\nPierces the universe, and in one part\nSheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In\nThat largeliest of His light partakes, was I, [Heaven\nWitness of things, which, to relate again,\nSurpasseth power of him who comes from thence;\nFor that, so near approaching its desire,\nOut intellect is to such depth absorb'd,\nThat memory cannot follow. Nathless all,\nThat in my thoughts I of that sacred realm\nCould store, shall now be matter of my song.\n\nBenign Apollo! this last labour aid;\nAnd make me such a vessel of thy worth,\nAs thy own laurel claims, of me beloved.\nThus far[1] hath one of steep Parnassus' brows\nSufficed me; henceforth, there is need of both\nFor my remaining enterprise. Do thou[2]\nEnter into my bosom, and there breathe\nSo, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg'd\nForth from his limbs, unsheathed. O power divine!\nIf thou to me of thine impart so much,\nThat of that happy realm the shadow'd form\nTraced in my thoughts I may set forth to view;\nThou shalt behold me of thy favour'd tree\nCome to the foot, and crown myself with leaves:\nFor to that honour thou, and my high theme\n\n[1: \"Thus far.\" He appears to mean nothing more than that this part\nof his poem will require a greater exertion of his powers than the former.]\n\n[2: \"Do thou.\" Make me thine instrument; and, through me, utter such\nsound as when thou didst contend with Marsyas.]\n\nWill fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire!\nTo grace his triumph, gathers thence a wreath\nCaesar, or bard, (more shame for human wills\nDepraved), joy to the Delphic god must spring\nFrom the Peneian foliage, when one breast\nIs with such thirst inspired. From a small spark\nGreat flame hath risen: after me, perchance,\nOthers with better voice may pray, and gain,\nFrom the Cyrrhaean city, answer kind.\n\nThrough divers passages, the world's bright lamp\nRises to mortals; but through that[3] which joins\nFour circles with the threefold cross, in best\nCourse, and in happiest constellation[4] set,\nHe comes; and, to the worldly wax, best gives\nIts temper and impression. Morning there,[5]\nHere eve was well - nigh by such passage made;\nAnd whiteness had o'erspread that hemisphere,\nBlackness the other part; when to the left[6]\nI saw Beatrice turn'd, and on the sun\nGazing, as never eagle fix'd his ken.\nAs from the first a second beam is wont\nTo issue, and reflected upward rise,\nEven as a pilgrim bent on his return;\nSo of her act, that through the eyesight pass'd\nInto my fancy, mine was form'd: and straight,\nBeyond our mortal wont, I fix'd mine eyes\nUpon the sun. Much is allow'd us there,\nThat here exceeds our power; thanks to the place\nMade for the dwelling of the human kind.\n\n[3: \"Where the four circles, the horizon, the zodiac, the equator,\nand the equinoctial colure join; the last three intersecting each other so as\nto form three crosses, as may be seen in the armillary sphere.\"]\n\n[4: Aries. Some understand the planet Venus by the \"migliore\nstella.\"]\n\n[5: \"Morning there.\" It was morning where he then was, and about\neventide on the earth.]\n\n[6: \"To the left.\" Being in the opposite hemisphere to ours,\nBeatrice, that she may behold the rising sun, turns herself to the left.]\n\nI suffer'd it not long; and yet so long,\nThat I beheld it bickering sparks around,\nAs iron that comes boiling from the fire.\nAnd suddenly upon the day appear'd\nA day new - risen; as he, who hath the power,\n\nHad with another sun bedeck'd the sky.\n\nHer eyes fast fix'd on the eternal wheels,\nBeatrice stood unmoved; and I with ken\nFix'd upon her, from upward gaze removed,\nAt her aspect, such inwardly became\nAs Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb\nThat made him peer among the ocean gods:\nWords may not tell of that trans - human change;\nAnd therefore let the example serve, though weak,\nFor those whom grace hath better proof in store.\n\nIf I were only what thou didst create,\nThen newly, Love! by whom the Heaven is ruled;\nThou know'st, who by Thy light didst bear me up.\nWhenas the wheel which Thou dost ever guide,\nDesired Spirit! with its harmony,\nTemper'd of Thee and measured, charm'd mine ear,\nThen seem'd to me so much of Heaven to blaze\nWith the sun's flame, that rain or flood ne'er made\nA lake so broad. The newness of the sound,\nAnd that great light, inflamed me with desire,\nKeener than e'er was felt, to know their cause.\n\nWhence she, who saw me, clearly as myself,\nTo calm my troubled mind, before I ask'd,\nOpen'd her lips, and gracious thus began:\n\"With false imagination thou thyself\nMakest dull; so that thou seest not the thing,\nWhich thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off.\nThou art not on the earth as thou believest;\nFor lightning, scaped from its own proper place,\nNe'er ran, as thou has hither now return'd.\"\n\nAlthough divested of my first - raised doubt\nBy those brief words accompanied with smiles,\nYet in new doubt was I entangled more,\nAnd said: \"Already satisfied, I rest\nFrom admiration deep; but now admire\nHow I above those lighter bodies rise.\"\n\nWhence, after utterance of a piteous sigh,\nShe toward me bent her eyes, with such a look,\nAs on her frenzied child a mother casts;\nThen thus began: \"Among themselves all things\nHave order; and from hence the form,[7] which makes\nThe universe resemble God. In this\nThe higher creatures see the printed steps\nOf that eternal worth, which is the end\nWhither the line is drawn.[8] All natures lean,\nIn this their order, diversely; some more,\nSome less approaching to their primal source.\nThus they to different havens are moved on\nThrough the vast sea of being, and each one\nWith instinct given, that bears it in its course:\nThis to the lunar sphere directs the fire;\nThis moves the hearts of mortal animals;\nThis the brute earth together knits, and binds.\nNor only creatures, void of intellect,\nAre aim'd at by this bow; but even those,\nThat have intelligence and love, are pierced.\nThat Providence, who so well orders all,\nWith her own light makes ever calm the Heaven,[9]\nIn which the substance, that hath greatest speed,[10]\nIs turn'd: and thither now, as to our seat\nPredestined, we are carried by the force\nOf that strong cord, that never looses dart\nBut at fair aim and glad. Yet is it true,\nThat as, oft - times, but ill accords the form\nTo the design of art, through sluggishness\nOr unreplying matter; so this course\nIs sometimes quitted by the creature, who\nHath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere;\nAs from a cloud the fire is seen to fall,\nFrom its original impulse warp'd, to earth,\nBy vitious fondness. Thou no more admire\nThy soaring (if I rightly deem) that lapse\nOf torrent downward from a mountain's height.\nThere would in thee for wonder be more cause,\nIf, free of hindrance, thou hadst stay'd below,\n\n[7: This order it is, that gives to the universe the form of unity,\nand therefore resemblance to God.]\n\n[8: All things, as they have their beginning from the Supreme Being,\nso are they referred to Him gain.]\n\n[9: \"The Heaven.\" The empyrean, which is always motionless.]\n\n[10: \"The substance, etc.\" The primum mobile.]\n\nAs living fire unmoved upon the earth.\"\n\nSo said, she turn'd toward the Heaven her face.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 2\n\n\nCanto II\n\nArgument\n\nDante and his celestial guide enter the moon. The cause of the spots or\nshadows, which appear in that body, is explained to him.\n\nAll ye, who in small bark have following sail'd,\nEager to listen, on the adventurous track\nOf my proud keel, that singing cuts her way,\nBackward return with speed, and your own shores\nRevisit; nor put out to open sea,\nWhere losing me, perchance ye may remain\nBewilder'd in deep maze. The way I pass,\nNe'er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale;\nApollo guides me; and another Nine,\nTo my rapt sight, the arctic beams reveal.\nYe other few who have outstretch'd the neck\nTimely for food of angels, on which here\nThey live, yet never know satiety;\nThrough the deep brine ye fearless may put out\nYour vessel; marking well the furrow broad\nBefore you in the wave, that on both sides\nEqual returns. Those, glorious, who pass'd o'er\nTo Colchis, wonder'd not as ye will do,\nWhen they saw Jason following the plough.\n\nThe increate perpetual thirst, that draws\nToward the realm of God's own form, bore us\nSwift almost as the Heaven ye behold.\n\nBeatrice upward gazed, and I on her;\nAnd in such space as on the notch a dart\nIs placed, then loosen'd flies, I saw myself\nArrived, where wonderous thing engaged my sight.\nWhence she, to whom no care of mine was hid,\nTurning to me, with aspect glad as fair,\nBespake me: \"Gratefully direct thy mind\nTo God, through whom to this first star[1] we come.\"\n\n[1: \"This first star.\" The moon.]\n\nMeseem'd as if a cloud had cover'd us,\n\nTranslucent, solid, firm, and polish'd bright,\nLike adamant, which the sun's beam had smit.\nWithin itself the ever - during pearl\nReceived us; as the wave a ray of light\nReceives, and rests unbroken. If I then\nWas of corporeal frame, and it transcend\nOur weaker thought, how one dimension thus\nAnother could endure, which needs must be\nIf body enter body; how much more\nMust the desire inflame us to behold\nThat Essence, which discovers by what means\nGod and our nature join'd! There will be seen\nThat, which we hold through faith; not shown by proof,\nBut in itself intelligibly plain,\nE'en as the truth that man at first believes.\n\nI answer'd: \"Lady! I with thoughts devout,\nSuch as I best can frame, give thanks to Him,\nWho hath removed me from the mortal world.\nBut tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots\nUpon this body, which below on earth\nGive rise to talk of Cain in fabling quaint?\"\n\nShe somewhat smiled, then spake: \"If mortals err\nIn their opinion, when the key of sense\nUnlocks not, surely wonder's weapon keen\nOught not to pierce thee: since thou find'st, the wings\nOf reason to pursue the senses' flight\nAre short. But what thy own thought is, declare.\"\n\nThen I: \"What various here above appears,\nIs caused, I deem, by bodies dense or rare.\"\n\nShe then resumed: \"Thou certainly wilt see\nIn falsehood thy belief o'erwhelm'd, if well\nThou listen to the arguments which I\nShall bring to face it. The eighth sphere displays\nNumberless lights, the which, in kind and size,\nMay be remark'd of different aspects:\nIf rare or dense of that were cause alone,\nOne single virtue then would be in all;\nAlike distributed, or more, or less.\nDifferent virtues needs must be the fruits\nOf formal principles; and these, save one,\nWill by thy reasoning be destroy'd. Beside,\nIf rarity were of that dusk the cause,\nWhich thou inquirest, either in some part\nThat planet must throughout be void, nor fed\nWith its own matter; or, as bodies share\nTheir fat and leanness, in like manner this\nMust in its volume change the leaves.[2] The first,\nIf it were true, had through the sun's eclipse\nBeen manifested, by transparency\nOf light, as through aught rare beside effused.\nBut this is not. Therefore remains to see\nThe other cause: and, if the other fall,\nErroneous so must prove what seem'd to thee.\nIf not from side to side this rarity\nPass through, there needs must be a limit, whence\nIts contrary no further lets it pass.\nAnd hence the beam, that from without proceeds,\nMust be pour'd back; as colour comes, through glass\nReflected, which behind it lead conceals.\nNow wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue,\nThan, in the other part, the ray is shown,\nBy being thence refracted farther back.\nFrom this perplexity will free thee soon\nExperience, if thereof thou trial make,\nThe mountain whence your arts derive their streams.\nThree mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove\nFrom thee alike; and more remote the third,\nBetwixt the former pair, shall meet thine eyes:\nThen turn'd toward them, cause behind thy back\nA light to stand, that on the three shall shine,\nAnd thus reflected come to thee from all.\nThough that, beheld most distant, do not stretch\nA space so ample, yet in brightness thou\nWilt own it equaling the rest. But now,\nAs under snow the ground, if the warm ray\nSmites it, remains dismantled of the hue\nAnd cold, that cover'd it before; so thee,\nDismantled in thy mind, I will inform\n\n[2: \"Change the leaves.\" Would, like leaves of parchment, be darker\nin some parts than in others.]\n\nWith light so lively, that the tremulous beam\nShall quiver where it falls. Within the heaven,[3]\nWhere peace divine inhabits, circles round\nA body, in whose virtue lies the being\nOf all that it contains. The following Heaven,\nThat hath so many lights, this being divides,\nThrough different essences, from it distinct,\nAnd yet contain'd within it. The other orbs\nTheir separate distinctions variously\nDispose, for their own seed and produce apt.\nThus do these organs of the world proceed,\nAs thou beholdest now, from step to step;\nTheir influences from above deriving,\nAnd thence transmitting downward. Mark me well;\nHow through this passage to the truth I ford,\nThe truth thou lovest; that thou henceforth, alone,\nMayst know to keep the shallows, safe, untold.\n\n[3: According to our Poet's system, there are ten Heavens. The\nHeaven, \"where peace divine inhabits,\" is the empyrean; the body within it,\nthat \"circles round,\" is the primum mobile; \"the following Heaven,\" that of\nthe fixed stars; and \"the other orbs\" the seven lower Heavens, are Saturn,\nJupiter, Mars, the Sun, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon. Thus Milton, \"Paradise\nLost\" b. iii. 481.]\n\n\"The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs,\nAs mallet by the workman's hand, must needs\nBy blessed movers[4] be inspired. This Heaven,[5]\nMade beauteous by so many luminaries,\nFrom the deep spirit,[6] that moves its circling sphere,\nIts image takes and impress as a seal:\nAnd as the soul, that dwells within your dust,\nThrough members different, yet together form'd,\nIn different powers resolves itself; e'en so\nThe intellectual efficacy unfolds\nIts goodness multiplied throughout the stars;\nOn its own unity revolving still.\nDifferent virtue[7] compact different\nMakes with the precious body it enlivens,\nWith which it knits, as life in you is knit.\n\n[4: \"By blessed movers.\" By Angels.]\n\n[5: \"This Heaven.\" The Heaven of fixed stars.]\n\n[6: \"The deep spirit.\" The moving Angel.]\n\n[7: \"Different virtue.\" \"There is one glory of the sun, and another\nglory of the moon, and another glory of the stars; for one star differeth from\nanother star in glory.\" - 1 Cor. xv. 41]\n\nFrom its original nature full of joy,\nThe virtue mingled through the body shines,\nAs joy through pupil of the living eye.\nFrom hence proceeds that which from light to light\nSeems different, and not from dense or rare.\nThis is the formal cause, that generates,\nProportion'd to its power, the dusk or clear.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 3\n\n\nCanto III\n\nArgument\n\nIn the moon Dante meets with Piccarda, the sister of Forese, who tells\nhim that this planet is allotted to those, who, after having made profession\nof chastity and a religious life, had been compelled to violate their vows;\nand she then points out to him the spirit of the Empress Costanza.\n\nThat sun,[1] which erst with love my bosom warmed,\nHad of fair truth unveil'd the sweet aspect,\nBy proof of right, and of the false reproof;\nAnd I, to own myself convinced and free\nOf doubt, as much as needed, raised my head\nErect for speech. But soon a sight appear'd,\nWhich, so intent to mark it, held me fix'd\nThat of confession I no longer thought.\n\n[1: \"That sun.\" Beatrice.]\n\nAs through translucent and smooth glass, or wave\nClear and unmoved, and flowing not so deep\nAs that its bed is dark, the shape returns\nSo faint of our impictured lineaments,\nThat, on white forehead set, a pearl as strong\nComes to the eye; such saw I many a face,\nAll stretch'd to speak; from whence I straight conceived,\nDelusion[2] opposite to that, which raised,\nBetween the man and fountain, amorous flame.\n\n[2: \"Delusion.\" \"An error the contrary to that of Narcissus; because\nhe mistook a shadow for a substance; I, a substance for a shadow.\"]\n\nSudden, as I perceived them, deeming these\nReflected semblances, to see of whom\nThey were, I turn'd mine eyes, and nothing saw;\nThen turn'd them back, directed on the light\nOf my sweet guide, who, smiling, shot forth beams\nFrom her celestial eyes. \"Wonder not thou,\"\n\nShe cried, \"at this my smiling, when I see\nThy childish judgment; since not yet on truth\nIt rests the foot, but, as it still is wont,\nMakes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.\nTrue substances are these, which thou behold'st,\nHither through failure of their vow exiled.\nBut speak thou with them; listen, and believe,\nThat the true light, which fills them with desire,\nPermits not from its beams their feet to stray.\"\n\nStraight to the shadow, which for converse seem'd\nMost earnest, I address'd me; and began\nAs one by over - eagerness perplex'd:\n\"O spirit, born of joy! who in the rays\nOf life eternal, of that sweetness know'st\nThe flavour, which, not tasted, passes far\nAll apprehension; me it well would please,\nIf thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this\nYour station here.\" Whence she with kindness prompt\nAnd eyes glist'ring with smiles: \"Our charity,\nTo any wish by justice introduced,\nBars not the door; no more than She above,\nWho would have all her court be like herself.\nI was a virgin sister in the earth;\nAnd if thy mind observe me well, this form,\nWith such addition graced of loveliness,\nWill not conceal me long; but thou wilt know\nPiccarda,[3] in the tardiest sphere thus placed,\nHere 'mid these other blessed also blest.\nOur hearts, whose high affections burn alone\nWith pleasure from the Holy Spirit conceived,\nAdmitted to His order, dwell in joy.\nAnd this condition, which appears so low,\nIs for this cause assign'd us, that our vows\nWere, in some part, neglected and made void.\"\n\n[3: \"Piccarda.\" The sister of Corso Donati, and of Forese, whom we\nhave seen in the Purgatory, Canto xxiv. Petrarch has been supposed to allude\nto this lady in his \"Triumph of Chastity,\" v. 160, etc.]\n\nWhence I to her replied: \"Something divine\nBeams in your countenances wondrous fair;\nFrom former knowledge quite transmitting you.\n\nTherefore to recollect was I so slow.\nBut what thou say'st hath to my memory\nGiven now such aid, that to retrace your forms\nIs easier. Yet inform me, ye, who here\nAre happy; long ye for a higher place,\nMore to behold, and more in love to dwell?\"\n\nShe with those other spirits gently smiled;\nThen answer'd with such gladness, that she seem'd\nWith love's first flame to glow: \"Brother! our will\nIs, in composure, settled by the power\nOf charity, who makes us will alone\nWhat we possess, and naught beyond desire:\nIf we should wish to be exalted more,\nThen must our wishes jar with the high will\nOf Him, who sets us here; which in these orbs\nThou wilt confess not possible, if here\nTo be in charity must needs befall,\nAnd if her nature well thou contemplate.\nRather it is inherent in this state\nOf blessedness, to keep ourselves within\nThe Divine Will, by which our wills with His\nAre one. So that as we, from step to step,\nAre placed throughout this kingdom, pleases all,\nEven as our King, who in us plants His will;\nAnd in His will is our tranquillity:\nIt is the mighty ocean, whither tends\nWhatever it creates and Nature makes.\"\n\nThen saw I clearly how each spot in Heaven\nIs Paradise, though with like gracious dew\nThe supreme virtue shower not over all.\n\nBut as it chances, if one sort of food\nHath satiated, and of another still\nThe appetite remains, that this is ask'd,\nAnd thanks for that return'd; e'en so did I,\nIn word and motion, bent from her to learn\nWhat web it was,[4] through which she had not drawn\nThe shuttle to its point. She thus began:\n\"Exalted worth and perfectness of life\n\n[4: \"What vow of religious life it was that she had been hindered\nfrom completing, had been compelled to break.\"]\n\nThe Lady[5] higher up inshrine in Heaven,\nBy whose pure laws upon your nether earth\nThe robe and veil they wear; to that intent,\nThat e'en till death they may keep watch, or sleep,\nWith their great Bridegroom, who accepts each vow,\nWhich to His gracious pleasure love conforms.\nI from the world, to follow her, when young\nEscaped; and, in her vesture mantling me,\nMade promise of the way her sect enjoins.\nThereafter men, for ill than good more apt,\nForth snatch'd me from the pleasant cloister's pale.\nGod knows[6] how, after that, my life was framed.\nThis other splendid shape, which thou behold'st\nAt my right side, burning with all the light\nOf this our orb, what of myself I tell\nMay to herself apply. From her, like me\nA sister, with like violence were torn\nThe saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows.\nE'en when she to the world again was brought\nIn spite of her own will and better wont,\nYet not for that the bosom's inward veil\nDid she renounce. This is the luminary\nOf mighty Constance,[7] who from that loud blast,\nWhich blew the second[8] over Suabia's realm,\nThat power produced, which was the third and last.\"\n\n[5: St. Clare, the foundress of the order called after her. She was\nborn at Assisi, in 1193, and died in 1253.]\n\n[6: Rodolfo da Tossignano, Hist. Seraph. Relig., relates the\nfollowing legend of Piccarda: \"Her brother Corso, inflamed with rage against\nhis virgin sister, having joined with him Farinata, an infamous assassin, and\ntwelve other abandoned ruffians, entered the monastery by a ladder, and\ncarried away his sister forcibly to his own house; and then tearing off her\nreligious habit, compelled her to go in a secular garment to her nuptials.\nBefore the spouse of Christ came together with her new husband, she knelt down\nbefore a crucifix and recommended her virginity to Christ. Soon after her\nwhole body was smitten with leprosy; in a few days, through the divine\ndisposal, she passed with a palm of virginity to the Lord.]\n\n[7: Daughter of Ruggieri, King of Sicily, who being taken by force\nout of a monastery was married to the Emperor Henry VI and by him was mother\nof Frederick II. She was fifty years old or more at the time, and \"because it\nwas not credited that she could have a child at that age, she was delivered in\na pavilion, and it was given out that any lady, who pleased, was at liberty to\nsee her.\"]\n\n[8: Henry VI, son of Frederick I, was the second emperor of the house\nof Suabia; and his son Frederick II \"the third and last.\"]\n\nShe ceased from further talk, and then began\n\n\"Ave Maria\" singing; and with that song\nVanish'd, as heavy substance through deep wave.\n\nMine eye, that, far as it was capable,\nPursued her, when in dimness she was lost,\nTurn'd to the mark where greater want impell'd\nAnd bent on Beatrice all its gaze.\nBut she, as lightning, beam'd upon my looks;\nSo that the sight sustain'd it not at first.\nWhence I to question her became less prompt.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 4\n\n\nCanto IV\n\nArgument\n\nWhile they still continue in the moon, Beatrice removes certain doubts\nwhich Dante had conceived respecting the place assigned to the blessed, and\nrespecting the will absolute or conditional. He inquires whether it is\npossible to make satisfaction for a vow broken.\n\nBetween two kinds of food, both equally\nRemote and tempting, first a man might die\nOf hunger, ere he one could freely chuse.\nE'en so would stand a lamb between the maw\nOf two fierce wolves, in dread of both alike:\nE'en so between two deer a dog would stand.\nWherefore, if I was silent, fault nor praise\nI to myself impute; by equal doubts\nHeld in suspense; since of necessity\nIt happen'd. Silent was I, yet desire\nWas painted in my looks; and thus I spake\nMy wish more earnestly than language could.\n\nAs Daniel,[1] when the haughty king he freed\nFrom ire, that spurr'd him on to deeds unjust\nAnd violent; so did Beatrice then.\n\n[1: \"Daniel.\" See Dan. ii. Beatrice did for Dante what Daniel did for\nNebuchadnezzar, when he freed the King from the uncertainty respecting his\ndream, which had enraged him against the Chaldeans. See Hell, Canto xiv.]\n\n\"Well I discern,\" she thus her words address'd,\n\"How thou art drawn by each of these desires;[2]\nSo that thy anxious thought is in itself\nBound up and stifled, nor breathes freely forth.\nThou arguest: if the good intent remain;\nWhat reason that another's violence\n\n[2: His desire to have each of the doubts, which Beatrice mentions,\nresolved.]\n\nShould stint the measure of my fair desert?\n\n\"Cause too thou find'st for doubt, in that it seems,\nThat spirits to the stars, as Plato[3] deem'd,\nReturn. These are the questions which thy will\nUrge equally; and therefore I, the first,\nOf that[4] will treat which hath the more of gall.[5]\nOf Seraphim[6] he who is most enskied,\nMoses and Samuel, and either John\nChuse which thou wilt, nor even Mary's self,\nHave not in any other Heaven their seats,\nThan have those spirits which so late thou saw'st;\nNor more or fewer years exist; but all\nMake the first circle[7] beauteous, diversely\nPartaking of sweet life, as more or less\nAfflation of eternal bliss pervades them.\nHere were they shown thee, not that fate assigns\nThis for their sphere, but for a sign to thee\nOf that celestial furthest from the height.\nThus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak:\nSince from things sensible alone ye learn\nThat, which, digested rightly, after turns\nTo intellectual. For no other cause\nThe Scripture, condescending graciously\nTo your perception, hands and feet to God\nAttributes, nor so means: and holy Church\nDoth represent with human countenance\nGabriel, and Michael, and him who made\nTobias whole. Unlike what here thou seest,\nThe judgment of Timaeus, who affirms\nEach soul restored to its particular star;\nBelieving it to have been taken thence,\nWhen nature gave it to inform her mold:\nYet to appearance his intention is\n\n[3: \"Plato.\" Plato, Timaeus, v. ix. p. 326. \"The Creator, when he had\nframed the universe, distributed to the stars an equal number of souls,\nappointing to each soul its several star.\"]\n\n[4: \"Of that.\" Plato's opinion.]\n\n[5: Which is the more dangerous.]\n\n[6: She first resolves his doubt whether souls do not return to their\nown stars, as he had read in the Timaeus of Plato. Angels, then, and beatified\nspirits, she declares, dwell all and eternally together, only partaking more\nor less of the divine glory, in the empyrean; although, in condescension to\nhuman understanding, they appear to have different spheres allotted to them.]\n\n[7: \"The first circle.\" The empyrean.]\n\nNot what his words declare: and so to shun\nDerision, haply thus he hath disguised\nHis true opinion. If his meaning be,\nThat to the influencing of these orbs revert\nThe honour and the blame in human acts,\nPerchance he doth not wholly miss the truth.\nThis principle, not understood aright,\nErewhile perverted well - nigh all the world;\nSo that it fell to fabled names of Jove,\nAnd Mercury, and Mars. That other doubt,\nWhich moves thee, is less harmful; for it brings\nNo peril of removing thee from me.\n\"That, to the eye of man,[8] our justice seems\nUnjust, is argument for faith, and not\nFor heretic declension. But, to the end\nThis truth[9] may stand more clearly in your view,\nI will content thee even to thy wish.\n\n[8: \"That the ways of divine justice are often inscrutable to man,\nought rather to be a motive to faith than an inducement to heresy.\"]\n\n[9: \"This truth.\" That it is no impeachment of God's justice, if\nmerit be lessened through compulsion of others, without any failure of good\nintention on the part of the meritorious. After all, Beatrice ends by\nadmitting that there was a defect in the will, which hindered Constance and\nthe others from seizing the first opportunity of returning to the monastic\nlife.]\n\n\"If violence be, when that which suffers, nought\nConsents to that which forceth, not for this\nThese spirits stood exculpate. For the will,\nThat wills not, still survives, unquench'd, and doth,\nAs nature doth in fire, though violence\nWrest it a thousand times; for, if it yield\nOr more or less, so far it follows force.\nAnd thus did these, when they had power to seek\nThe hallow'd place again. In them, had will\nBeen perfect, such as once upon the bars\nHeld Laurence[10] firm, or wrought in Scaevola\nTo his own hand remorseless; to the path,\nWhence they were drawn, their steps had hasten'd back,\nWhen liberty return'd: but in too few,\nResolve, so stedfast, dwells. And by these words,\nIf duly weigh'd, that argument is void,\nWhich oft might have perplex'd thee still. But now\n\n[10: Martyr of the third century.]\n\nAnother question thwarts thee, which, to solve,\nMight try thy patience without better aid.\nI have, no doubt, instill'd into thy mind,\nThat blessed spirit may not lie; since near\nThe source of primal truth it dwells for aye:\nAnd thou mightst after of Piccarda learn\nThat Constance held affection to the veil;\nSo that she seems to contradict me here.\nNot seldom, brother, it hath chanced for men\nTo do what they had gladly left undone;\nYet, to shun peril, they have done amiss:\nE'en as Alcmaeon, at his father's[11] suit\nSlew his own mother;[12] so made pitiless,\nNot to lose pity. On this point bethink thee,\nThat force and will are blended in such wise\nAs not to make the offence excusable.\nAbsolute will agrees not to the wrong;\nBut inasmuch as there is fear of woe\nFrom non - compliance, it agrees. Of will[13]\nThus absolute, Piccarda spake, and I\nOf the other; so that both have truly said.\"\n\n[11: \"His father's.\" Amphiaraus.]\n\n[12: \"His own mother.\" Eriphyle.]\n\n[13: \"Of will.\" What Piccarda asserts of Constance, that she retained\nher affection to the monastic life, is said absolutely and without relation to\ncircumstances; and that, which I affirm, is spoken of the will conditionally\nand respectively: so that \"both have truly said.\"]\n\nSuch was the flow of that pure rill, that well'd\nFrom forth the fountain of all truth; and such\nThe rest, that to my wandering thoughts I found.\n\n\"O thou, of primal love the prime delight,\nGoddess!\" I straight replied, \"whose lively words\nStill shed new heat and vigour through my soul;\nAffection fails me to requite thy grace\nWith equal sum of gratitude: be His\nTo recompense, who sees and can reward thee.\nWell I discern, that by that Truth[14] alone\nEnlighten'd, beyond which no truth may roam,\nOur mind can satisfy her thirst to know:\nTherein she resteth, e'en as in his lair\nThe wild beast, soon as she hath reach'd that bound.\nAnd she hath power to reach it; else desire\n\n[14: The light of divine truth.]\n\nWere given to no end. And thence doth doubt\nSpring, like a shoot, around the stock of truth;\nAnd it is nature which, from height to height,\nOn to the summit prompts us. This invites,\nThis doth assure me, Lady! reverently\nTo ask thee of another truth, that yet\nIs dark to me. I fain would know, if man\nBy other works well done may so supply\nThe failure of his vows, that in your scale\nThey lack not weight.\" I spake; and on me straight\nBeatrice look'd, with eyes that shot forth sparks\nOf love celestial, in such copious stream,\nThat, virtue sinking in me overpower'd,\nI turn'd; and downward bent, confused, my sight.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 5\n\n\nCanto V\n\nArgument\n\nThe question proposed in the last Canto is answered. Dante ascends with\nBeatrice to the planet Mercury, which is the second heaven; and here he finds\na multitude of spirits, one of whom offers to satisfy him of anything he may\ndesire to know from them.\n\n\"If beyond earthly wont,[1] the flame of love\nIllume me, so that I o'ercome thy power\nOf vision, marvel not: but learn the cause\nIn that perfection of the sight, which, soon\nAs apprehending, hasteneth on to reach\nThe good it apprehends. I well discern,\nHow in thine intellect already shines\nThe light eternal, which to view alone\nNe'er fails to kindle love; and if aught else\nYour love seduces, 'tis but that it shows\nSome ill - mark'd vestige of that primal beam.\n\n[1: \"If beyond earthly wont.\" Dante having been unable to sustain the\nsplendor of Beatrice, as we have seen at the end of the last Canto, she tells\nhim to attribute her increase of brightness to the place in which they were.]\n\n\"This wouldst thou know: if failure of the vow\nBy other service may be so supplied,\nAs from self - question to assure the soul.\"\n\nThus she her words, not heedless of my wish,\nBegan; and thus, as one who breaks not off\n\nDiscourse, continued in her saintly strain.\n\"Supreme of gifts,[2] which God, creating, gave\nOf His free bounty, sign most evident\nOf goodness, and in His account most prized\nWas liberty of will; the boon, wherewith\nAll intellectual creatures, and them sole,\nHe hath endow'd. Hence now thou mayst infer\nOf what high worth the vow, which so is framed\nThat when man offers, God well - pleased accepts:\nFor in the compact between God and him,\nThis treasure, such as I describe it to thee,\nHe makes the victim; and of his own act.\nWhat compensation therefore may he find?\nIf that, whereof thou hast oblation made,\nBy using well thou think'st to consecrate,\nThou wouldst of theft do charitable deed.\nThus I resolve thee of the greater point.\n\n[2: \"Supreme of gifts.\" So in the \"De Monarchia,\" lib. i. pp. 107 and\n108. \"If then the judgment altogether move the appetite, and is in no wise\nprevented by it, it is free. But if the judgment be moved by the appetite in\nany way preventing it, it cannot be free: because it acts not of itself, but\nis led captive by another. And hence it is that brutes cannot have free\njudgment, because their judgments are always prevented by appetite. And hence\nit may also appear manifest that intellectual substances, whose wills are\nimmutable, and likewise souls separated from the body, and departing from it\nwell and holily, lose not the liberty of choice on account of the immutability\nof the will, but retain it most perfectly and powerfully. This being\ndiscerned, it is again plain that this liberty, or principle of all our\nliberty, is the greatest good conferred on human nature by God; because by\nthis very thing we are here made happy, as men; by this we are elsewhere\nhappy, as divine beings.\"]\n\n\"But forasmuch as holy Church, herein\nDispensing, seems to contradict the truth\nI have discover'd to thee, yet behoves\nThou rest a little longer at the board,\nEre the crude aliment which thou hast ta'en,\nDigested fitly, to nutrition turn.\nOpen thy mind to what I now unfold;\nAnd give it inward keeping. Knowledge comes\nOf learning well retain'd, unfruitful else.\n\n\"This sacrifice, in essence, of two things\nConsisteth: one is that, whereof 'tis made;\nThe covenant, the other[3]. For the last,\n\n[3: The one, the substance of the vow, as of a single life, or of\nkeeping fast; the other, the compact.]\n\nIt ne'er is cancel'd, if not kept: and hence\nI spake, erewhile, so strictly of its force.\nFor this it was enjoin'd the Israelites[4], [change\nThough leave were given them, as thou know'st, to\nThe offering, still to offer. The other part,\nThe matter and the substance of the vow,\nMay well be such, as that, without offence,\nIt may for other substance be exchanged.\nBut, at his own discretion, none may shift\nThe burden on his shoulders; unreleased\nBy either key,[5] the yellow and the white.\nNor deem of any change, as less than vain,\nIf the last bond[6] be not within the new\nIncluded, as the quatre in the six.\nNo satisfaction therefore can be paid\nFor what so precious in the balance weighs,\nThat all in counterpoise must kick the beam.\nTake then no vow at random: ta'en, with faith\nPreserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once,\nBlindly to execute a rash resolve,\nWhom better it had suited to exclaim,\n'I have done ill,' than to redeem his pledge\nBy doing worse: or, not unlike to him\nIn folly, that great leader of the Greeks;\nWhence, on the altar, Iphigenia mourn'd\nHer virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn\nBoth wise and simple, even all, who hear\nOf so fell sacrifice. Be ye more staid,\nO Christians! not, like feather, by each wind\nRemovable; nor think to cleanse yourselves\nIn every water. Either testament,\nThe old and new, is yours: and for your guide,\nThe shepherd of the Church. Let this suffice\nTo save you. When by evil lust enticed,\nRemember ye be men, not senseless beasts;\nNor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets,\nHold you in mockery. Be not, as the lamb,\nThat, fickle wanton, leaves its mother's milk,\n\n[4: See Lev. c. xii. and xxvii.]\n\n[5: Purgatory, Canto ix. 108.]\n\n[6: If the thing substituted be not more precious than the thing\nreleased.]\n\nTo dally with itself in idle play.\"\n\nSuch were the words that Beatrice spake:\nThese ended, to that region, where the world\nIs liveliest, full of fond desire she turn'd.\n\nThough mainly prompt new question to propose,\nHer silence and changed look did keep me dumb.\nAnd as the arrow, ere the cord is still,\nLeapeth unto its mark; so on we sped\nInto the second realm. There I beheld\nThe dame, so joyous, enter, that the orb\nGrew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star\nWere moved to gladness, what then was my cheer,\nWhom nature hath made apt for every change!\n\nAs in a quiet and clear lake the fish,\nIf aught approach them from without, do draw\nToward it, deeming it their food; so drew\nFull more than thousand splendours toward us;\nAnd in each one was heard: \"Lo! one arrived\nTo multiply our loves!\" and as each came,\nThe shadow, streaming forth effulgence new,\nWitness'd augmented joy. Here, Reader! think,\nIf thou didst miss the sequel of my tale,\nTo know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave;\nAnd thou shalt see what vehement desire\nPossess'd me, soon as these had met my view,\nTo know their state. \"O born in happy hour!\nThou, to whom grace vouchsafes, or e'er thy close\nOf fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones\nOf that eternal triumph; know, to us\nThe light communicated, which through Heaven\nExpatiates without bound. Therefore, if aught\nThou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid,\nSpare not; and, of our radiance, take thy fill.\"\n\nThus of those piteous spirits one bespake me;\nAnd Beatrice next: \"Say on; and trust\nAs unto gods.\" - \"How in the light supreme\nThou harbour'st, and from thence the virtue bring'st,\nThat, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy,\nI mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek;\nOr wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot\nThis sphere[7] assign'd, that oft from mortal ken\nIs veil'd by other's beams.\" I said; and turn'd\nToward the lustre, that with greeting kind\nErewhile had hail'd me. Forthwith, brighter far\nThan erst, it wax'd: and, as himself the sun\nHides through excess of light, when his warm gaze[8]\nHath on the mantle of thick vapours prey'd;\nWithin its proper ray the saintly shape\nWas, through increase of gladness, thus conceal'd;\nAnd, shrouded so in splendour, answer'd me,\nE'en as the tenour of my song declares.\n\n[7: \"This sphere.\" The planet Mercury, which being nearest to the\nsun, is oftenest hidden by that luminary.]\n\n[8: \"When his warm gaze.\" When the sun has dried up the vapors that\nshaded his brightness.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 6\n\n\nCanto VI\n\nArgument\n\nThe spirit, who had offered to satisfy the inquiries of Dante, declares\nhimself to be the Emperor Justinian; and after speaking of his own actions,\nrecounts the victories, before him, obtained under the Roman Eagle. He then\ninforms our Poet that the soul of Romeo the pilgrim is in the same star.\n\n\"After that Constantine the eagle turn'd[1]\nAgainst the motions of the Heaven, that roll'd\nConsenting with its course, when he of yore,\nLavinia's spouse, was leader of the flight;\nA hundred years twice told and more,[2] his seat\nAt Europe's extreme point,[3] the bird of Jove\nHeld, near the mountains, whence he issued first;\nThere under shadow of his sacred plumes\nSwaying the world, till through successive hands\nTo mine he came devolved. Caesar I was\nAnd am Justinian; destined by the will\nOf that prime love, whose influence I feel,\n\n[1: Constantine, in transferring the seat of empire from Rome to\nByzantium, carried the eagle, the imperial ensign, from the west to the east.\nAeneas, on the contrary, had, with better augury, moved along with the sun's\ncourse, when he passed from Troy to Italy.]\n\n[2: \"A hundred years twice told and more.\" The Emperor Constantine\nentered Byzantium in 324; and Justinian began his reign in 527.]\n\n[3: \"At Europe's extreme point.\" Constantine being situated at the\nextreme of Europe, and on the borders of Asia, near those mountains in the\nneighborhood of Troy, from whence the first founders of Rome had emigrated.]\n\nFrom vain excess to clear the incumber'd laws.[4]\nOr e'er that work engaged me, I did hold\nIn Christ one nature only;[5] with such faith\nContented. But the blessed Agapete,[6]\nWho was chief shepherd, he with warning voice\nTo the true faith recall'd me. I believed\nHis words: and what he taught, now plainly see,\nAs thou in every contradiction seest\nThe true and false opposed. Soon as my feet\nWere to the Church reclaim'd, to my great task,\nBy inspiration of God's grace impell'd,\nI gave me wholly; and consign'd mine arms\nTo Belisarius, with whom Heaven's right hand\nWas link'd in such conjointment, 'twas a sign\nThat I should rest. To thy first question thus\nI shape mine answer, which were ended here,\nBut that its tendency doth prompt perforce\nTo some addition; that thou well mayst mark,\nWhat reason on each side they have to plead,\nBy whom that holiest banner is withstood,\nBoth who pretend its power[7] and who oppose.[8]\n\n[4: The code of laws was abridged and reformed by Justinian.]\n\n[5: Justinian is said to have been a follower of heretical opinions\nheld by Eutyches, \"who taught that in Christ there was but one nature, viz.,\nthat of the incarnate Word.\" Maclaine's Mosheim.]\n\n[6: \"Agapete.\" \"Agapetus, Bishop of Rome, whose Scheda Regia,\naddressed to the Emperor Justinian, procured him a place among the wisest and\nmost judicious writers of this country.\" Ibid.]\n\n[7: The Ghibellines.]\n\n[8: The Guelfs.]\n\n\"Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died\nTo give it rule, behold the valorous deeds\nHave made it worthy reverence. Not unknown\nTo thee, how for three hundred years and more\nIt dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists\nWhere, for its sake, were met the rival three;[9]\nNor aught unknown to thee, which it achieved\nDown[10] from the Sabines' wrong to Lucrece' woe,\nWith its seven kings conquering the nations round;\nNor all it wrought, by Roman worthies borne\n'Gainst Brennus and the Epirot prince,[11] and hosts\nOf single chiefs, or states in league combined\n\n[9: The Horatii and Curiatii.]\n\n[10: \"From the rape of the Sabine women to the violation of\nLucretia.\"]\n\n[11: King Pyrrhus.]\n\nOf social warfare: hence, Torquatus stern,\nAnd Quintius[12] named of his neglected locks,\nThe Decii, and the Fabii hence acquired\nTheir fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm.\nBy it the pride of Arab hordes[13] was quell'd,\nWhen they, led on by Hannibal, o'erpass'd\nThe Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po!\nBeneath its guidance, in their prime of days\nScipio and Pompey triumph'd; and that hill[14]\nUnder whose summit[15] thou didst see the light,\nRued its stern bearing. After, near the hour,[16]\nWhen Heaven was minded that o'er all the world\nHis own deep calm should brood, to Caesar's hand\nDid Rome consign it; and what then it wrought[17]\nFrom Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere's flood,\nSaw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills\nThe torrent Rhone. What after that it wrought,\nWhen from Ravenna it came forth, and leap'd\nThe Rubicon, was of so bold a flight,\nThat tongue nor pen may follow it. Toward Spain\nIt wheel'd its bands, then toward Dyrrachium smote,\nAnd on Pharsalia, with so fierce a plunge,\nE'en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang;\nIts native shores Antandros, and the streams\nOf Simois revisited, and there\nWhere Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy\nHis pennons shook again; lightening thence fell\nOn Juba, and the next, upon your west,\nAt sound of the Pompeian trump, return'd.\n\n[12: Quintius Cincinnatus.]\n\n[13: The Arabians seem to be put for the barbarians in general.]\n\n[14: \"That hill.\" The city of Fiesole, which was sacked by the Romans\nafter the defeat of Catiline.]\n\n[15: \"Under whose summit.\" \"At the foot of which is situated\nFlorence, thy birth - place.\"]\n\n[16: \"Near the hour.\" Of our Saviour's birth.]\n\n[17: \"What then it wrought.\" In the following fifteen lines the Poet\nhas comprised the exploits of Julius Caesar, for which, and for the allusions\nin the greater part of this speech of Justinian's, I must refer my reader to\nthe history of Rome.]\n\n\"What following, and in its next bearer's gripe,[18]\nIt wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus\nBark'd of in Hell; and by Perugia's sons,\nAnd Modena's, was mourn'd. Hence weepeth still\n\n[18: With Augustus Caesar.]\n\nSad Cleopatra, who pursued by it,\nTook from the adder black and sudden death.\nWith him it ran e'en to the Red Sea coast;\nWith him composed the world to such a peace,\nThat of his temple Janus barr'd the door.\n\n\"But all the mighty standard yet had wrought,\nAnd was appointed to perform thereafter,\nThroughout the mortal kingdom which it sway'd,\nFalls in appearance dwindled and obscured,\nIf one with steady eye and perfect thought\nOn the third Caesar[19] look; for to his hands,\nThe living Justice, in whose breath I move,\nCommitted glory, e'en into his hands,\nTo execute the vengeance of its wrath.\n\n[19: \"The third Caesar.\" The eagle in the hand of Tiberius, the third\nof the Caesars, outdid all its achievements, both past and future, by becoming\nthe instrument of that mighty and mysterious act of satisfaction made to the\ndivine justice in the crucifixion of our Lord.]\n\n\"Hear now, and wonder at, what next I tell.\nAfter with Titus it was sent to wreak\nVengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin.\nAnd, when the Lombard tooth, with fang impure,\nDid gore the bosom of the holy Church,\nUnder its wings, victorious Charlemain[20]\nSped to her rescue. Judge then for thyself\nOf those, whom I erewhile accused to thee,\nWhat they are, and how grievous their offending,\nWho are the cause of all your ills. The one[21]\nAgainst the universal ensign rears\nThe yellow lilies;[22] and with partial aim,\nThat, to himself, the other[23] arrogates:\nSo that 'tis hard to see who most offends.\nBe yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your hearts\nBeneath another standard: ill is this\nFollow'd of him, who severs it and justice:\nAnd let not with his Guelfs the new - crown'd Charles\n\n[20: \"Charlemain.\" Dante could not be ignorant that the reign of\nJustinian was long prior to that of Charlemagne; but the spirit of the former\nemperor is represented, both in this instance and in what follows, as\nconscious of the events that had taken place after his own time.]\n\n[21: \"The one.\" The Guelf party.]\n\n[22: The French ensign.]\n\n[23: The Ghibelline party.]\n\nAssail it;[24] but those talons hold in dread,\nWhich from a lion of more lofty port\nHave rent the casing. Many a time ere now\nThe sons have for the sire's transgression wail'd:\nNor let him trust the fond belief, that Heaven\nWill truck its armour for his lilied shield.\n\n[24: \"Charles.\" The commentators explain this to mean Charles II,\nKing of Naples and Sicily. Is it not more likely to allude to Charles of\nValois, son of Philip III of France, who was sent for, about this time, into\nItaly by Pope Boniface, with the promise of being made Emperor? See G.\nVillani, lib. viii. cap. xlii.]\n\n\"This little star is furnish'd with good spirits,\nWhose mortal lives were busied to that end,\nThat honour and renown might wait on them:\nAnd, when desires[25] thus err in their intention,\nTrue love must needs ascend with slacker beam.\nBut it is part of our delight, to measure\nOur wages with the merit; and admire\nThe close proportion. Hence doth heavenly justice\nTemper so evenly affection in us,\nIt ne'er can warp to any wrongfulness.\nOf diverse voices is sweet music made:\nSo in our life the different degrees\nRender sweet harmony among these wheels.\n\n[25: When honour and fame are the chief motives to action, the love\nfor Heaven must become less fervent.]\n\n\"Within the pearl, that now encloseth us,\nShines Romeo's light,[26] whose goodly deed and fair\nMet ill acceptance. But the Provencals,\nThat were his foes, have little cause for mirth.\nIll shapes that man his course, who makes his wrong\nOf other's worth. Four daughters[27] were there born\nTo Raymond Berenger; and every one\nBecame a queen: and this for him did Romeo,\nThough of mean state and from a foreign land.\n\n[26: After he had long been faithful steward to Raymond Berenger,\nCount of Provence, and last of the house of Barcelona, who died 1245, when an\naccount was required from him of the revenues which his master had lavishly\ndisbursed, he demanded the little mule, the staff, and the scrip, with which\nhe had first entered into the Count's service, a stranger pilgrim from the\nshrine of St. James, in Galicia, and parted as he came.]\n\n[27: Of the four daughters of Raymond, Margaret, the eldest, was\nmarried to Louis IX of France; Eleanor to Henry III of England; Sancha to\nRichard, Henry's brother, and King of the Romans; and the youngest, Beatrix,\nto Charles I, King of Naples and Sicily, and brother to Louis.]\n\nYet envious tongues incited him to ask\nA reckoning of that just one, who return'd\nTwelve fold to him for ten. Aged and poor\nHe parted thence: and if the world did know\nThe heart he had, begging his life by morsels,\n'Twould deem the praise, it yields him, scantly dealt.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 7\n\n\nCanto VII\n\nArgument\n\nIn consequence of what had been said by Justinian, who together with the\nother spirits has now disappeared, some doubts arise in the mind of Dante\nrespecting the human redemption. These difficulties are fully explained by\nBeatrice.\n\n\"Hosanna[1] Sanctus Deus Sabaoth,\nSuperillustrans claritate tua\nFelices ignes horum malahoth.\"\nThus chanting saw I turn that substance bright,[2]\nWith fourfold lustre to its orb again,\nRevolving; and the rest, unto their dance,\nWith it, moved also; and, like swiftest sparks,\nIn sudden distance from my sight were veil'd.\n\n[1: \"Hosanna.\" \"Hosanna holy God of Sabaoth, abundantly illumining\nwith thy brightness the blessed fires of these kingdoms.\"]\n\n[2: Justinian.]\n\nMe doubt possess'd; and \"Speak,\" it wispher'd me,\n\"Speak, speak unto thy lady; that she quench\nThy thirst with drops of sweetness.\" Yet blank awe,\nWhich lords it o'er me, even at the sound\nOf Beatrice's name, did bow me down\nAs one in slumber held. Not long that mood\nBeatrice suffer'd; she, with such a smile,\nAs might have made one blest amid the flames,[3]\nBeaming upon me, thus her words began:\n\"Thou in thy thought art pondering (as I deem,\nAnd what I deem is truth) how just revenge\nCould be with justice punish'd: from which doubt\nI soon will free thee; so thou mark my words;\nFor they of weighty matter shall possess thee.\nThrough suffering not a curb upon the power\nThat will'd in him, to his own profiting,\nThat man, who was unborn,[4] condemn'd himself;\n\n[3: So Giusto de' Conti.]\n\n[4: Adam.]\n\nAnd, in himself, all, who since him have lived,\nHis offspring: whence, below, the human kind\nLay sick in grievous error many an age;\nUntil it pleased the Word of God to come\nAmongst them down, to His own person joining\nThe nature from its Maker far estranged,\nBy the mere act of His eternal love.\nContemplate here the wonder I unfold:\nThe nature with its Maker thus conjoin'd,\nCreated first was blameless, pure and good;\nBut, through itself alone, was driven forth\nFrom Paradise, because it had eschew'd\nThe way of truth and life, to evil turn'd.\nNe'er then was penalty so just as that\nInflicted by the Cross, if thou regard\nThe nature in assumption doom'd; ne'er wrong\nSo great, in reference to Him, who took\nSuch nature on Him, and endured the doom.\nSo different effects[5] flow'd from one act:\nFor by one death God and the Jews were pleased;\nAnd Heaven was open'd, though the earth did quake.\nCount it not hard henceforth, when thou dost hear\nThat a just vengeance[6] was, by righteous court,\nJustly revenged. But yet I see thy mind,\nBy thought on thought arising, sore perplex'd;\nAnd, with how vehement desire, it asks\nSolution of the maze. What I have heard,\nIs plain, thou sayst: but wherefore God this way\nFor our redemption chose, eludes my search.\n\n[5: The death of Christ was pleasing to God, inasmuch as it satisfied\nthe divine justice; and to the Jews, because it gratified their malignity; and\nwhile Heaven opened for joy at man's ransom, the earth trembled through\ncompassion for its Maker.]\n\n[6: The punishment of Christ by the Jews, although just as far as\nregarded the human nature assumed by Him, and so a righteous vengeance of sin,\nyet being unjust as regards the divine nature, was itself justly revenged on\nthe Jews by the destruction of Jerusalem.]\n\n\"Brother! no eye of man not perfected,\nNor fully ripen'd in the flame of love,\nMay fathom this decree. It is a mark,\nIn sooth, much aim'd at, and but little kenn'd:\nAnd I will therefore show thee why such way\n\nWas worthiest. The celestial Love, that spurns\nAll envying in its bounty, in itself\nWith such effulgence blazeth, as sends forth\nAll beauteous things eternal. What distils\nImmediate thence, no end of being knows;\nBearing its seal immutably imprest.\nWhatever thence immediate falls, is free,\nFree wholly, uncontrollable by power\nOf each thing new: by such conformity\nMore grateful to its Author, whose bright beams,\nThough all partake their shining, yet in those\nAre liveliest, which resemble Him the most.\nThese tokens of pre - eminence[7] on man\nLargely bestow'd, if any of them fail,\nHe needs must forfeit his nobility,\nNo longer stainless. Sin alone is that,\nWhich doth disfranchise him, and make unlike\nTo the Chief Good; for that its light in him\nIs darken'd. And to dignity thus lost\nIs no return; unless, where guilt makes void,\nHe for ill pleasure pay with equal pain.\nYour nature, which entirely in its seed\nTransgress'd, from these distinctions fell, no less\nThan from its state in Paradise; nor means\nFound of recovery (search all methods out\nAs strictly as thou may) save one of these,\nThe only fords were left through which to wade:\nEither, that God had of His courtesy\nReleased him merely; or else, man himself\nFor his own folly by himself atoned.\n\n[7: The before - mentioned gifts of immediate creation by God,\nindependence on secondary causes, and consequent similitude and agreeableness\nto the Divine Being, all at first conferred on man.]\n\n\"Fix now thine eye, intently as thou canst,\nOn the everlasting counsel; and explore,\nInstructed by my words, the dread abyss.\n\n\"Man in himself had ever lack'd the means\nOf satisfaction, for he could not stoop\nObeying, in humility so low,\nAs high, he, disobeying, thought to soar:\n\nAnd, for this reason, he had vainly tried,\nOut of his own sufficiency to pay\nThe rigid satisfaction. Then behoved\nThat God should by His own ways lead him back\nUnto the life, from whence he fell, restored;\nBy both His ways, I mean, or one alone.[8]\nBut since the deed is ever prized the more,\nThe more the doer's good intent appears;\nGoodness celestial, whose broad signature\nIs on the universe, of all its ways\nTo raise ye up, was fain to leave out none.\nNor aught so vast or so magnificent,\nEither for Him who gave or who received,\nBetween the last night and the primal day,\nWas or can be. For God more bounty show'd,\nGiving Himself to make man capable\nOf his return to life, than had the terms\nBeen mere and unconditional release.\nAnd for His justice, every method else\nWere all too scant, had not the Son of God\nHumbled Himself to put on mortal flesh.\n\n[8: Either by mercy and justice united or by mercy alone.]\n\n\"Now, to content thee fully, I revert;\nAnd further in some part[9] unfold my speech,\nThat thou mayst see it clearly as myself.\n\n[9: She reverts to that part of her discourse where she had said that\nwhat proceeds immediately from God \"no end of being knows.\" She then proceeds\nto tell him that the elements, which, though he knew them to be created, he\nyet saw dissolved, received their form not immediately from God, but from a\nvirtue or power created by God; that the soul of brutes and plants is in like\nmanner drawn forth by the stars with a combination of those elements meetly\ntempered. \"di complession potenziata\"; but that the angels and the heavens may\nbe said to be created in that very manner in which they exist, without any\nintervention of agency.]\n\n\"I see, thou sayst, the air, the fire I see,\nThe earth and water, and all things of them\nCompounded, to corruption turn, and soon\nDissolve. Yet these were also things create.\nBecause, if what were told me, had been true,\nThey from corruption had been therefore free.\n\n\"The Angels, O my brother! and this clime\nWherein thou art, impassable and pure,\nI call created, even as they are\n\nIn their whole being. But the elements,\nWhich thou hast named, and what of them is made,\nAre by created virtue inform'd: create,\nTheir substance; and create, the informing virtue\nIn these bright stars, that round them circling move.\nThe soul of every brute and of each plant,\nThe ray and motion of the sacred lights,\nDraw from complexion with meet power endued.\nBut this our life the Eternal Good inspires\nImmediate, and enamours of itself;\nSo that our wishes rest for ever here.\n\n\"And hence thou mayst by inference conclude\nOur resurrection certain, if thy mind\nConsider how the human flesh was framed,\nWhen both our parents at the first were made.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 8\n\n\nCanto VIII\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet ascends with Beatrice to the third heaven, the planet Venus; and\nhere finds the soul of Charles Martel, King of Hungary, who had been Dante's\nfriend on earth, and who now, after speaking of the realms to which he was\nheir, unfolds the cause why children differ in disposition from their parents.\n\nThe world[1] was, in its day of peril dark,\nWont to believe the dotage of fond love,\nFrom the fair Cyprian deity, who rolls\nIn her third epicycle, shed on men\nBy stream of potent radiance: therefore they\nOf elder time, in their old error blind,\nNot her alone with sacrifice adored\nAnd invocation, but like honours paid\nTo Cupid and Dione, deem'd of them\nHer mother, and her son, him whom they feign'd\nTo sit in Dido's bosom: and from her,\nWhom I have sung preluding, borrow'd they\nThe appellation of that star, which views\nNow obvious, and now averse, the sun.\n\n[1: The Poet, on his arrival at the third Heaven, tells us that the\nworld, in its days of heathen darkness, believed the influence of sensual love\nto proceed from the star, to which, under the name of Venus, they paid divine\nhonors; as they worshipped the supposed mother and son of Venus, under the\nnames of Dione and Cupid.]\n\nI was not ware that I was wafted up\nInto its orb; but the new loveliness,\nThat graced my lady, gave me ample proof\nThat we had enter'd there. And as in flame\nA sparkle is distinct, or voice in voice\nDiscern'd, when one its even tenour keeps,\nThe other comes and goes; so in that light\nI other luminaries saw, that coursed\nIn circling motion, rapid more or less,\nAs their eternal vision each impels.\n\nNever was blast from vapour charged with cold,\nWhether invisible to eye or no,\nDescended with such speed, it had not seem'd\nTo linger in dull tardiness, compared\nTo those celestial lights, that toward us came,\nLeaving the circuit of their joyous ring,\nConducted by the lofty Seraphim.\nAnd after them, who in the van appear'd,\nSuch an Hossana sounded as hath left\nDesire, ne'er since extinct in me, to hear\nRenew'd the strain. Then, parting from the rest,\nOne near us drew, and sole began: \"We all\nAre ready at thy pleasure, well disposed\nTo do thee gentle service. We are they\nTo whom thou in the world erewhile didst sing;\n'O ye! whose intellectual ministry\nMoves the third Heaven:' and in one orb we roll,\nOne motion, one impulse, with those who rule\nPrincedoms in Heaven; yet are of love so full,\nThat to please thee 'twill be as sweet to rest.\"\n\nAfter mine eyes had with meek reverence\nSought the celestial guide, and were by her\nAssured, they turn'd again unto the light,\nWho had so largely promised; and with voice\nThat bare the lively pressure of my zeal,\n\"Tell who ye are,\" I cried. Forthwith it grew\nIn size and splendour, through augmented joy;\nAnd thus it answer'd: \"A short date, below,\nThe world possess'd me.[2] Had the time been more,\nMuch evil, that will come, had never chanced.\nMy gladness hides thee from me, which doth shine\nAround, and shroud me, as an animal\nIn its own silk enswathed. Thou lovedst me well,[3]\nAnd hadst good cause; for had my sojourning\nBeen longer on the earth, the love I bare thee\nHad put forth more than blossoms. The left bank,[4]\nThat Rhone, when he hath mix'd with Sorga, laves,\nIn me its lord expected, and that horn\nOf fair Ausonia,[5] with its boroughs old,\nBari, and Croton, and Gaeta piled,\nFrom where the Trento disembogues his waves\nWith Verde mingled, to the salt - sea flood.\nAlready on my temples beam'd the crown,\nWhich gave me sovereignty over the land[6]\nBy Danube wash'd, whenas he strays beyond\nThe limits of his German shores. The realm,\nWhere, on the gulf by stormy Eurus lash'd,\nBetwixt Pelorus and Pachynian heights,\nThe beautiful Trinacria[7] lies in gloom,\n(Not through Typhoeus,[8] but the vapoury cloud\nBituminous upsteam'd), that too did look\nTo have its sceptre wielded by a race [Rodolph,[9]\nOf monarchs, sprung through me from Charles and\nHad not ill - lording,[10] which doth desperate make\n\n[2: The spirit now speaking is Charles Martel, crowned King of\nHungary, and son of Charles II, King of Naples and Sicily, to which throne,\ndying in his father's lifetime, he did not succeed. The evil, that would have\nbeen prevented by the longer life of Charles Martel, was that resistance which\nhis brother Robert, King of Sicily, who succeeded him, made to the Emperor\nHenry VII.]\n\n[3: Charles Martel might have been known to our Poet at Florence,\nwhither he came to meet his father in 1259, the year of his death. G. Villani\nsays that \"he remained more than twenty days in Florence, waiting for his\nfather, King Charles, and his brothers.\" Lib. vii. cap. xiii. His brother\nRobert, King of Naples, was the friend of Petrarch.]\n\n[4: \"The left bank.\" Provence.]\n\n[5: The kingdom of Naples.]\n\n[6: \"The land.\" Hungary.]\n\n[7: Sicily; so called from its three promontories of which Pachynus\nand Pelorus, here mentioned, are two.]\n\n[8: The giant, whom Jupiter overwhelmed under Mount Aetna, whence he\nvomited forth smoke and flame.]\n\n[9: \"Sicily would be still ruled by monarchs, descended through me\nfrom Charles I and Rodolph I, the former my grandfather, King of Naples and\nSicily; the latter, Emperor of Germany, my father - in - law;\" both celebrated\nin the \"Purgatory,\" Canto vii.]\n\n[10: If the ill - conduct of our governors in Sicily had not excited\nthe people to that dreadful massacre at the Sicilian vespers in consequence of\nwhich the kingdom fell into the hands of Peter III of Arragon, in 1282.]\n\nThe people ever, in Palermo raised\nThe shout of 'death,' re - echoed loud and long.\nHad but my brother's foresight[11] kenn'd as much,\nHe had been warier, that the greedy want\nOf Catalonia might not work his bale.\nAnd truly need there is that he forecast,\nOr other for him, lest more freight be laid\nOn his already over - laden bark.\nNature in him, from bounty fallen to thrift,\nWould ask the guard of braver arms, than such\nAs only care to have their coffers fill'd.\"\n\n[11: He seems to tax his brother Robert with employing necessitous\nand greedy Catalonians to administer the affairs of his kingdom.]\n\n\"My liege! it doth enhance the joy thy words\nInfuse into me, mighty as it is,\nTo think my gladness manifest to thee,\nAs to myself, who own it, when thou look'st\nInto the source and limit of all good,\nThere, where thou markest that which thou dost speak,\nThence prized of me the more. Glad thou hast made\nNow make intelligent, clearing the doubt [me:\nThy speech hath raised in me; for much I muse,\nHow bitter can spring up,[12] when sweet is sown.\"\n\n[12: \"How a covetous son can spring from a liberal father.\" Yet that\nfather has himself been accused of avarice in the \"Purgatory,\" Canto xx. 78;\nthough his general character was that of a bounteous prince.]\n\nI thus inquiring; he forthwith replied:\n\"If I have power to show one truth, soon that\nShall face thee, which thy questioning declares\nBehind thee now conceal'd. The Good,[13] that guides\n\n[13: The Supreme Being uses these spheres as the intelligent\ninstruments of His providence in the conduct of terrestrial natures; so that\nthese natures cannot but be conducted aright, unless these heavenly bodies\nshould themselves fail from not having been made perfect at first, or the\nCreator of them should fail. To this Dante replies, that Nature, he is\nsatisfied, thus directed must do her part. Charles Martel then reminds him\nthat he had learned from Aristotle that human society requires a variety of\nconditions, and consequently a variety of qualifications in its members.\nAccordingly, men are born with different powers and capacities, caused by the\ninfluence of the heavenly bodies at the time of their nativity; on which\ninfluence, and not on their parents, those powers and capacities depend.\nCharles Martel adds, by way of corollary, that the want of observing their\nnatural bent, in the destination of men to their several offices in life, is\nthe occasion of much of the disorder that prevails in the world.]\n\nAnd blessed makes this realm which thou dost mount,\nOrdains its providence to be the virtue\nIn these great bodies: nor the natures only\nThe all - perfect Mind provides for, but with them\nThat which preserves them too; for naught, that lies\nWithin the range of that unerring bow,\nBut is as level with the destined aim,\nAs ever mark to arrow's point opposed.\nWere it not thus, these Heavens, thou dost visit,\nWould their effect so work, it would not be\nArt, but destruction; and this may not chance,\nIf the intellectual powers, that move these stars,\nFail not, and who, first faulty made them, fail.\nWilt thou this truth more clearly evidenced?\"\n\nTo whom I thus: \"It is enough: no fear,\nI see, lest nature in her part should tire.\"\n\nHe straight rejoin'd: \"Say, were it worse for man,\nIf he lived not in fellowship on earth?\"\n\n\"Yea,\" answer'd I; \"nor here a reason needs.\"\n\n\"And may that be, if different estates\nGrow not of different duties in your life?\nConsult your teacher,[14] and he tells you 'no.'\"\n\n[14: Aristotle, De Rep., lib. iii. cap. 4: Since a state is made up\nof members differing from one another (for even as an animal, in the first\ninstance, consists of soul and body; and the soul, of reason and desire; and a\nfamily, of man and woman; and property, of master and slave; in like manner a\nstate consists both of all these, and besides these of other dissimilar\nkinds); it necessarily follows that the excellence of all the members of the\nstate cannot be one and the same.]\n\nThus did he come, deducing to this point,\nAnd then concluded: \"For this cause behoves,\nThe roots, from whence your operations come,\nMust differ. Therefore one is Solon born;\nAnother, Xerxes; and Melchisedec\nA third; and he a fourth, whose airy voyage\nCost him his son.[15] In her circuitous course,\nNature, that is the seal to mortal wax,\nDoth well her art, but no distinction owns\n'Twixt one or other household. Hence befals\nThat Esau is so wide of Jacob: hence\nQuirinus[16] of so base a father springs,\n\n[15: Daedalus.]\n\n[16: \"Quirinus.\" Romulus, born of so obscure a father that his\nparentage was attributed to Mars.]\n\nHe dates from Mars his lineage. Were it not\nThat Providence celestial overruled,\nNature, in generation, must the path\nTraced by the generator still pursue\nUnswervingly. Thus place I in thy sight\nThat, which was late behind thee. But, in sign\nOf more affection for thee, 'tis my will\nThou wear this corollary. Nature ever,\nFinding discordant fortune, like all seed\nOut of its proper climate, thrives but ill.\nAnd were the world below content to mark\nAnd work on the foundation nature lays,\nI would not lack supply of excellence.\nBut ye perversely to religion strain\nHim, who was born to gird on him the sword,\nAnd of the fluent phraseman make your king:\nTherefore your steps have wander'd from the path.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 9\n\n\nCanto IX\n\nArgument\n\nThe next spirit who converses with our Poet in the planet Venus is the\namorous Cunizza. To her succeeds Folco, or Folques, the Provencal bard, who\ndeclares that the soul of Rahab the harlot is there also; and then, blaming\nthe Pope for his neglect of the Holy Land, prognosticates some reverse to the\npapal power.\n\nAfter solution of my doubt, thy Charles,\nO fair Clemenza,[1] of the treachery[2] spake,\nThat must befal his seed; but, \"Tell it not,\"\nSaid he, \"and let the destined years come round.\"\nNor may I tell thee more, save that the meed\nOf sorrow well - deserved shall quit your wrongs.\n\n[1: Daughter of Charles Martel, and second wife of Louis X of\nFrance.]\n\n[2: \"The treachery.\" He alludes to the occupation of the Kingdom of\nSicily by Robert, in exclusion of his brother's son Carobert, or Charles\nRobert, the rightful heir.]\n\nAnd now the visage of that saintly light[3]\nWas to the sun, that fills it, turn'd again,\nAs to the good, whose plenitude of bliss\nSufficeth all. O ye misguided souls!\nInfatuate, who from such a good estrange\nYour hearts, and bend your gaze on vanity,\nAlas for you! - And lo! toward me, next,\n\n[3: Charles Martel.]\n\nAnother of those splendent forms approach'd,\nThat, by its outward brightening, testified\nThe will it had to pleasure me. The eyes\nOf Beatrice, resting, as before,\nFirmly, upon me, manifested forth\nApproval of my wish. \"And O,\" I cried,\n\"Blest spirit! quickly be my will perform'd;\nAnd prove thou to me,[4] that my inmost thoughts\nI can reflect on thee.\" Thereat the light,\nThat yet was new to me, from the recess,\nWhere it before was singing, thus began,\nAs one who joys in kindness: \"In that part[5]\nOf the depraved Italian land, which lies\nBetween Rialto and the fountain springs\nOf Brenta and of Piava, there doth rise,\nBut to no lofty eminence, a hill,\nFrom whence erewhile a firebrand did descend,\nThat sorely shent the region. From one root\nI and it sprang; my name on earth Cunizza:[6]\nAnd here I glitter, for that by its light\nThis star o'ercame me. Yet I naught repine,[7]\nNor grudge myself the cause of this my lot:\nWhich haply vulgar hearts can scarce conceive.\n\n[4: The thoughts of all created minds being seen by the Deity, and\nall that is in the Deity being the object of vision to beatified spirits, such\nspirits must consequently see the thoughts of all created minds. Dante,\ntherefore, requests of the spirit, who now approaches him, a proof of this\ntruth with regard to his own thoughts. See v. 70.]\n\n[5: Between Rialto in the Venetian territory, and the sources of the\nrivers Brenta and Piava, is situated a castle called Romano, the birthplace of\nthe famous tyrant Ezzolino or Azzolino, the brother of Cunizza, who is now\nspeaking. See Hell, Canto xii. v. 110.]\n\n[6: \"Cunizza.\" The adventures of Cunizza, overcome by the influence\nof her star, are related by the chronicler Rolandino, of Padua. She eloped\nfrom her first husband, Richard of St. Boniface, in the company of Sordello,\nwith whom she is supposed to have cohabited before her marriage: then lived\nwith a soldier of Trevigi, whose wife was living at the same time in the same\ncity; and, on his being murdered by her brother the tyrant, was by her brother\nmarried to a nobleman of Braganzo: lastly, when he also had fallen by the same\nhand, she after her brother's death, was again, wedded in Verona.]\n\n[7: \"I am not dissatisfied that I am not allotted a higher place.\"]\n\n\"This[8] jewel, that is next me in our Heaven,\nLustrous and costly, great renown hath left,\nAnd not to perish, ere these hundred years\n\n[8: \"This.\" Folco of Genoa, a celebrated Provencal poet, commonly\ntermed Folques of Marseilles, of which place he was perhaps bishop.]\n\nFive times[9] absolve their round. Consider thou,\nIf to excel be worthy man's endeavour,\nWhen such life may attend the first.[10] Yet they\nCare not for this, the crowd[11] that now are girt\nBy Adice and Tagliamento, still\nImpenitent, though scourged. The hour is near[12]\nWhen for their stubbornness, at Padua's marsh\nThe water shall be changed, that laves Vicenza.\nAnd where Cagnano meets with Sile, one[13]\nLords it, and bears his head aloft, for whom\nThe web[14] is now a - warping. Feltro[15] too\nShall sorrow for its godless shepherd's fault,\nOf so deep stain, that never, for the like,\nWas Malta's[16] bar unclosed. Too large should be\nThe skillet[17] that would hold Ferrara's blood,\nAnd wearied he, who ounce by ounce would weigh it,\nThe which this priest,[18] in show of party - zeal,\nCourteous will give; nor will the gift ill suit\nThe country's custom. We descry above\nMirrors, ye call them Thrones, from which to us\nReflected shine the judgments of our God:\nWhence these our sayings we avouch for good.\"\n\n[9: The 500 years are elapsed.]\n\n[10: When the mortal life of man may be attended by so lasting and\nglorious a memory, which is a kind of second life.]\n\n[11: The people who inhabited the country bounded by the Tagliamento\nto the east and Adice to the west.]\n\n[12: Cunizza foretells the defeat of Giacopo da Carrara and the\nPaduans, by Can Grande, at Vicenza, on September 18, 1314.]\n\n[13: \"One.\" She predicts also the fate of Riccardo da Camino, who is\nsaid to have been murdered at Trevigi (where the rivers Sile and Cagnano meet)\nwhere he was engaged in playing at chess.]\n\n[14: \"The web.\" The net, or snare, into which he is destined to\nfall.]\n\n[15: The Bishop of Feltro having received a number of fugitives from\nFerrara, who were in opposition to the Pope, under a promise of protection,\nafterward gave them up; so that they were reconducted to that city, and the\ngreater part of them there put to death.]\n\n[16: \"Malta's.\" A tower, either in the citadel of Padua, which, under\nthe tyranny of Ezzolino, had been \"with many a foul and midnight murder fed\";\nor (as some say) near a river of the same name, that falls into the Lake of\nBolsena, in which the Pope was accustomed to imprison such as had been guilty\nof an irremissible sin.]\n\n[17: \"The skillet.\" The blood shed could not be contained in such a\nvessel, if it were of the usual size.]\n\n[18: The bishop, who, to show himself a zealous partisan of the Pope,\nhad committed the above - mentioned act of treachery. The commentators are not\nagreed as to his name. Troya calls him Alessandro Novello, and relates the\ncircumstances at full.]\n\nShe ended; and appear'd on other thoughts\nIntent, re - entering on the wheel she late\nHad left. That other joyance meanwhile wax'd\nA thing to marvel at, in splendour glowing,\nLike choicest ruby stricken by the sun.\nFor, in that upper clime, effulgence[19] comes\nOf gladness, as here laughter: and below,\nAs the mind saddens, murkier grows the shade.\n\n[19: As joy is expressed by laughter on earth, so is it by an\nincrease of splendor in Paradise; and, on the contrary, grief is betokened in\nHell by augmented darkness.]\n\n\"God seeth all: and in Him is thy sight,\"\nSaid I, \"blest spirit! Therefore will of His\nCannot to thee be dark. Why then delays\nThy voice to satisfy my wish untold;\nThat voice, which joins the inexpressive song,\nPastime of Heaven, the which those Ardours sing,\nThat cowl them with six shadowing wings[20] outspread?\nI would not wait thy asking, wert thou known\nTo me, as thoroughly I to thee am known.\"\n\n[20: \"Above it stood the seraphims; each one had six wings.\" - Is.\nvi. 2.]\n\nHe, forthwith answering, thus, his words began:\n\"The valley of waters,[21] widest next to that[22]\nWhich doth the earth engarland, shapes its course,\nBetween discordant shores,[23] against the sun\nInward so far, it makes meridian[24] there,\nWhere was before the horizon. Of that vale\nDwelt I upon the shore, 'twixt Ebro's stream\nAnd Macra's,[25] that divides with passage brief\nGenoan bounds from Tuscan. East and west\nAre nearly one to Begga[26] and my land\nWhose haven[27] erst was with its own blood warm.\nWho knew my name, were wont to call me Folco;\nAnd I did bear impression of this Heaven,[28]\n\n[21: The Mediterranean Sea.]\n\n[22: \"That.\" The great ocean.]\n\n[23: Europe and Africa.]\n\n[24: \"Meridian.\" Extending to the east, the Mediterranean at last\nreaches the coast of Palestine, which is on its horizon when it enters the\nStraits of Gibraltar.]\n\n[25: Ebro, a river to the west, and Macra, a river to the east, of\nGenoa, where Folco was born; others think that Marseilles, and not Genoa, is\nhere described; and then Ebro must be understood of the river in Spain.]\n\n[26: \"Begga.\" A place in Africa.]\n\n[27: Alluding to the slaughter of the Genoese by the Saracens in\n936.]\n\n[28: The planet Venus, by which Folco declares himself to have been\nformerly influenced.]\n\nThat now bears mine: for not with fiercer flame\nGlow'd Belus' daughter,[29] injuring alike\nSichaeus and Creusa, than did I,\nLong as it suited the unripen'd down\nThat fledged my cheek; nor she of Rhodope,[30]\nThat was beguiled of Demophoon;\nNor Jove's son,[31] when the charms of Iole\nWere shrined within his heart. And yet there bides\nNo sorrowful repentance here, but mirth,\nNot for the fault, (that doth not come to mind,)\nBut for the virtue, whose o'erruling sway\nAnd providence have wrought thus quaintly. Here\nThe skill is look'd into, that fashioneth\nWith such effectual working, and the good\nDiscern'd, accruing to the lower world\nFrom this above, But fully to content\nThy wishes all that in this sphere have birth,\nDemands my further parle. Inquire thou wouldst,\nWho of this light is denizen, that here\nBeside me sparkles, as the sunbeam doth\nOn the clear wave. Know then, the soul of Rahab[32]\nIs in that gladsome harbour; to our tribe\nUnited, and the foremost rank assign'd.\nShe to this Heaven,[33] at which the shadow ends\nOf your sublunar world, was taken up,\nFirst, in Christ's triumph, of all soul redeem'd:\nFor well behoved, that, in some part of Heaven,\nShe should remain a trophy, to declare\nThe mighty conquest won with either palm;[34]\nFor that she favour'd first the high exploit\nOf Joshua on the Holy Land, whereof\nThe Pope[35] recks little now. Thy city, plant\nOf him,[36] that on his Maker turn'd the back,\nAnd of whose envying so much woe hath sprung,\n\n[29: \"Belus' daughter.\" Dido.]\n\n[30: \"She of Rhodope.\" Phyllis.]\n\n[31: \"Jove's son.\" Hercules.]\n\n[32: \"Rahab.\" Heb. xi. 31.]\n\n[33: \"This planet of Venus, at which the shadow of the earth ends\n(Almagest) writes Ptolemy.\" - Vellutello.]\n\n[34: By both hands nailed to the cross.]\n\n[35: \"Who cares not that the Holy Land is in the possession of the\nSaracens.\"]\n\n[36: \"Of him.\" Of Satan.]\n\nEngenders and expands the cursed flower,[37]\nThat hath made wander both the sheep and lambs,\nTurning the shepherd to a wolf. For this,\nThe Gospel and great teachers laid aside,\nThe decretals,[38] as their stuff margins show,\nAre the sole study. Pope and Cardinals,\nIntent on these, ne'er journey but in thought\nTo Nazareth, where Gabriel oped his wings.\nYet it may chance, ere long, the Vatican,[39]\nAnd other most selected parts of Rome,\nThat were the grave of Peter's soldiery,\nShall be deliver'd from the adulterous bond.\"\n\n[37: The coin of Florence, the florin; the covetous desire of which\nhas excited the Pope to so much evil.]\n\n[38: \"The decretals.\" The canon law. So in the \"De Monarchia,\" lib.\niii. p. 137: \"There are also a third set, whom they call Decretalists. These,\nalike ignorant of theology and philosophy, relying wholly on their decretals\n(which I indeed esteem not unworthy of reverence), in the hope I suppose of\nobtaining for them a paramount influence, derogate from the authority of the\nempire. Nor is this to be wondered at, when I have heard one of them\nimpudently maintaining, that traditions are the foundation of the faith of the\nChurch.\"]\n\n[39: He alludes either to the death of Pope Boniface VIII or to the\ncoming of the Emperor Henry VII into Italy; or else to the transfer of the\nHoly See from Rome to Avignon, which took place in the pontificate of Clement\nV.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 10\n\n\nCanto X\n\nArgument\n\nTheir next ascent carries them into the sun, which is the fourth heaven.\nHere they are encompassed with a wreath of blessed spirits, twelve in number.\nThomas Aquinas, who is one of these, declares the names and endowments of the\nrest.\n\nLooking into His First - Born with the Love,\nWhich breathes from both eternal, the first Might\nIneffable, wherever eye or mind\nCan roam, hath in such order all disposed,\nAs none may see and fail to enjoy. Raise, then,\nO reader! to the lofty wheels, with me,\nThy ken directed to the point,[1] whereat\nOne motion strikes on the other. There begin\nThy wonder of the mighty Architect,\n\n[1: To that part of heaven where the equinoctial circle and the\nZodiac intersect each other, where the common motion of the heavens from east\nto west may be said to strike with greatest force against the motion proper to\nthe planets, and this repercussion, as it were, is here the strongest, because\nthe velocity of each is increased to the utmost by their respective distances\nfrom the poles.]\n\nWho loves His work so inwardly, His eye\nDoth ever watch it. See, how thence oblique[2]\nBrancheth the circle, where the planets roll\nTo pour their wished influence on the world;\nWhose path not bending thus, in Heaven above[3]\nMuch virtue would be lost, and here on earth\nAll power well - nigh extinct; or, from direct\nWere its departure distant more or less,\nI' the universal order, great defect\nMust, both in Heaven and here beneath, ensue.\n\n[2: \"Oblique.\" The Zodiac.]\n\n[3: If the planets did not preserve that order in which they move,\nthey would not receive nor transmit their due influences; and if the Zodiac\nwere not thus oblique; if toward the north it either passed or went short of\nthe tropic of Cancer, or else toward the south it passed, or went short of the\ntropic of Capricorn, it would not divide the seasons as it now does.]\n\nNow rest thee, reader! on thy bench, and muse\nAnticipative of the feast to come\nSo shall delight make thee not feel thy toil.\nLo! I have set before thee; for thyself\nFeed now: the matter I indite, henceforth\nDemands entire my thought. Join'd with the part,[4]\nWhich late we told of, the great minister[5]\nOf nature that upon the world imprints\nThe virtue of the Heaven, and doles out\nTime for us with his beam, went circling on\nAlong the spires,[6] where[7] each hour sooner comes;\nAnd I was with him, weetless of ascent,\nBut as a man,[8] that weets his thought, ere thinking.\n\n[4: The intersection of the equinoctial circle and the Zodiac.]\n\n[5: \"Minister.\" The sun.]\n\n[6: According to Dante, as the earth is motionless, the sun passes by\na spiral motion, from one tropic to another.]\n\n[7: \"Where.\" In which the sun rises earlier every day after the\nvernal equinox.]\n\n[8: \"But as a man.\" That is, he was quite insensible of it.]\n\nFor Beatrice, she who passeth on\nSo suddenly from good to better, time\nCounts not the act, oh then how great must needs\nHave been her brightness! What there was i' th' sun,\n(Where I had enter'd,) not through change of hue,\nBut light transparent - did I summon up\nGenius, art, practice - I might not so speak,\nIt should be e'er imagined: yet believed\n\nIt may be, and the sight be justly craved.\nAnd if our fantasy fail of such height,\nWhat marvel, since no eye above the sun\nHath ever travel'd? Such are they dwell here,\nFourth family[9] of the Omnipotent Sire,\nWho of His Spirit and of His Offspring[10] shows;\nAnd holds them still enraptured with the view.\nAnd thus to me Beatrice: \"Thank, oh thank\nThe Sun of Angels, Him, who by His grace\nTo this perceptible hath lifted thee.\"\n\n[9: \"Fourth family.\" The inhabitants of the sun, the fourth planet.]\n\n[10: The procession of the third and the generation of the second\nperson in the Trinity.]\n\nNever was heart in such devotion bound,\nAnd with complacency so absolute\nDisposed to render up itself to God,\nAs mine was at those words: and so entire\nThe love for Him, that held me, it eclipsed\nBeatrice in oblivion. Nought displeased\nWas she, but smiled thereat so joyously,\nThat of her laughing eyes the radiance brake\nAnd scatter'd my collected mind abroad.\n\nThen saw I a bright band, in liveliness\nSurpassing, who themselves did make the crown,\nAnd us their centre: yet more sweet in voice,\nThan, in their visage, beaming. Cinctured thus,\nSometime Latona's daughter we behold,\nWhen the impregnate air retains the thread\nThat weaves her zone. In the celestial court,\nWhence I return, are many jewels found,\nSo dear and beautiful, they cannot brook\nTransporting from that realm: and of these lights\nSuch was the song.[11] Who doth not prune his wing\nTo soar up thither, let him[12] look from thence\nFor tidings from the dumb. When, singing thus,\nThose burning suns had circled round us thrice,\nAs nearest stars around the fixed pole;\nThen seem'd they like to ladies, from the dance\nNot ceasing, but suspense, in silent pause,\n\n[11: The song of these spirits was like a jewel so highly prized that\nthe exportation of it is prohibited by law.]\n\n[12: Let him not expect intelligence of that place, for it surpasses\ndirection.]\n\nListening, till they have caught the strain anew:\nSuspended so they stood: and, from within,\nThus heard I one, who spake: \"Since with its beam\nThe Grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame,\nThat after doth increase by loving, shines\nSo multiplied in thee, it leads thee up\nAlong this ladder, down whose hallow'd steps\nNone e'er descend, and mount them not again;\nWho from his phial should refuse thee wine\nTo slake thy thirst, no less constrained[13] were,\nThan water flowing not unto the sea.\nThou fain wouldst hear, what plants are these, that bloom\nIn the bright garland, which, admiring, girds\nThis fair dame round, who strengthens thee for Heaven.\nI, then,[14] was of the lambs, that Dominic\nLeads, for his saintly flock, along the way\nWhere well they thrive, not swoln with vanity.\nHe, nearest on my right hand, brother was,\nAnd master to me: Albert of Cologne[15]\nIs this; and, of Aquinum, Thomas[16] I.\nIf thou of all the rest wouldst be assured,\nLet thine eye, waiting on the words I speak,\nIn circuit journey round the blessed wreath.\nThat next resplendence issues from the smile\nOf Gratian,[17] who to either forum[18] lent\n\n[13: \"The rivers might as easily cease to flow toward the sea, as we\ncould deny thee thy request.\"]\n\n[14: \"I was of the Dominican order.\"]\n\n[15: Albertus Magnus was born at Laugingen, in Thuringia, in 1193,\nand studied at Paris and at Padua; at the latter place he entered into the\nDominican order. He then taught theology in various parts of Germany, and\nparticularly at Cologne. Thomas Aquinas was his favorite pupil In 1260 he\nreluctantly accepted the bishopric of Ratisbon, and in two years after\nresigned it, and returned to his cell in Cologne, where the remainder of his\nlife was passed in superintending the school, and in composing his voluminous\nworks on divinity and natural science. He died in 1280.]\n\n[16: Thomas Aquinas, of whom Bucer is reported to have said, \"Take\nbut Thomas away, and I will overturn the Church of Rome:; and whom Hooker\nterms \"the greatest among the school divines\" - (\"Eccl. Pol.\" b. iii. section\n9), was born of noble parents, who anxiously but vainly endeavored to divert\nhim from a life of celibacy and study. He died in 1274, at the age of forty -\nseven.]\n\n[17: \"Gratian.\" Gratian, a Benedictine monk belonging to the convent\nof St. Felix and Nabor, at Bologna, and by birth a Tuscan, composed, about the\nyear 1130, for the use of the schools, an abridgement or epitome of canon law,\ndrawn from the letters of the pontiffs, the decrees of councils and the\nwritings of the ancient doctors.]\n\n[18: \"To either forum.\" By reconciling the civil with the canon law.]\n\nSuch help, as favour wins in Paradise.\nThe other, nearest, who adorns our quire,\nWas Peter,[19] he that with the widow gave\nTo holy Church his treasure. The fifth light,[20]\nGoodliest of all, is by such love inspired,\nThat all your world craves tidings of his doom.[21]\nWithin, there is a lofty light, endow'd\nWith sapience so profound, if truth be truth,\nThat with a ken of such wide amplitude\nNo second hath arisen. Next behold\nThat taper's radiance,[22] to whose view was shown,\nClearliest, the nature and the ministry\nAngelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt.\nIn the other little light serenely smiles\nThat pleader[23] for the Christian temples, he,\nWho did provide Augustin of his lore.\nNow, if thy mind's eye pass from light to light,\nUpon my praises following, of the eighth[24]\nThy thirst is next. The saintly soul, that shows\nThe world's deceitfulness, to all who hear him,\nIs, with the sight of all the good that is,\nBlest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, lie\n\n[19: \"Peter.\" Pietro Lombardo was of obscure origin, nor is the place\nof his birth in Lombardy ascertained. With a recommendation from the Bishop of\nLucca to St. Bernard, he went into France to continue his studies; and for\nthat purpose remained some time at Rheims, whence he proceeded to Paris. Here\nhis reputation was so great that Philip, brother of Louis VII, being chosen\nBishop of Paris, resigned that dignity to Pietro, whose pupil he had been. He\nheld his bishopric only one year, and died 1160. His \"Liber Sententiarum\" is\nhighly esteemed. It contains a system of scholastic theology, much more\ncomplete than any which had been yet seen.]\n\n[20: \"The fifth light.\" Solomon.]\n\n[21: \"His doom.\" It was a common question, it seems, whether Solomon\nwere saved or no.]\n\n[22: St. Dionysius, the Areopagite. \"The famous Grecian fanatic, who\ngave himself out for Dionysius the Areopagite, disciple of St. Paul, and who,\nunder the protection of this venerable name, gave laws and instructions to\nthose that were desirous of raising their souls above all human things, in\norder to unite them to their great source by sublime contemplation, lived most\nprobably in the fourth century.\" Maclaine's Mosheim.]\n\n[23: \"That pleader.\" In the fifth century, Paulus Orosius \"acquired a\nconsiderable degree of reputation by the history he wrote to refute the cavils\nof the Pagans against Christianity, and by his books against the Pelagians and\nPriscillianists.\" Ibid.]\n\n[24: Boetius, whose book \"de Consolatione Philosophiae,\" excited so\nmuch attention during the Middle Ages, was born about 470. \"In 524 he was\ncruelly put to death by Theodoric, either on real or pretended suspicion of\nhis being engaged in a conspiracy.\" Della Lett. Ital.]\n\nDown in Cieldauro;[25] and from martyrdom\nAnd exile came it here. Lo! further on,\nWhere flames the arduous spirit of Isidore;[26]\nOf Bede;[27] and Richard,[28] more than man, erewhile,\nIn deep discernment. Lastly this, from whom\nThy look on me reverteth, was the beam\nOf one, whose spirit, on high musings bent,\nRebuked the lingering tardiness of death.\nIt is the eternal light of Sigebert[29]\nWho 'scaped not envy, when of truth he argued,\nReading in the straw - litter'd street.\"[30] Forthwith,\nAs clock, that calleth up the spouse of God[31]\nTo win her Bridegroom's love at matin's hour,\nEach part of other fitly drawn and urged,\nSends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet,\nAffection springs in well - disposed breast;\nThus saw I move the glorious wheel; thus heard\nVoice answering voice, so musical and soft,\nIt can be known but where day endless shines.\n\n[25: \"Cieldauro.\" Boetius was buried at Pavia, in the monastery of\nSt. Pietro in Ciel d'Oro.]\n\n[26: He was Archbishop of Seville during forty years, and died in\n635.]\n\n[27: \"Bede.\" Bede, whose virtues obtained him the appellation of the\nVenerable, was born in 672, at Wearmouth and Jarrow in the bishopric of\nDurham, and died at Jarrow in 735. Invited to Rome by Pope Sergius I, he\npreferred passing almost the whole of his life in the seclusion of a\nmonastery.]\n\n[28: Richard of St. Victor, a native either of Scotland or Ireland,\nwas canon and prior of the monastery of that name at Paris; and died in 1173.\n\"He was at the head of the Mystics in this century; and his treatise, entitled\nthe \"Mystical Ark,\" which contains as it were the marrow of this kind of\ntheology, was received with the greatest avidity.\" Maclaine's Mosheim.]\n\n[29: A monk of the Abbey of Gemblours, in high repute at the end of\nthe eleventh, and beginning of the twelfth century.]\n\n[30: The name of a street in Paris; the \"Rue de Fouarre.\"]\n\n[31: The Church.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 11\n\n\nCanto XI\n\nArgument\n\nThomas Aquinas enters at large into the life and character of St.\nFrancis; and then solves one of two difficulties, which he perceived to have\nrisen in Dante's mind from what he had heard in the last Canto.\n\nO fond anxiety of mortal men!\nHow vain and inconclusive arguments\nAre those, which make thee beat thy wings below.\nFor statutes one, and one for aphorisms[1]\n\n[1: The study of medicine.]\n\nWas hunting; this the priesthood follow'd; that,\nBy force or sophistry, aspired to rule;\nTo rob, another; and another sought,\nBy civil business, wealth; one, moiling, lay\nTangled in net of sensual delight;\nAnd one to wistless indolence resign'd;\nWhat time from all these empty things escaped,\nWith Beatrice, I thus gloriously\nWas raised aloft, and made the guest of Heaven.\n\nThey of the circle to that point, each one,\nWhere erst it was, had turn'd; and steady glow'd,\nAs candle in his socket. Then within\nThe lustre,[2] that erewhile bespake me, smiling\nWith merer gladness, heard I thus begin:\n\n[2: The spirit of Thomas Aquinas.]\n\n\"E'en as His beam illumes me, so I look\nInto the Eternal Light, and clearly mark\nThy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt,\nAnd wouldst, that I should bolt my words afresh\nIn such plain open phrase, as may be smooth\nTo thy perception, where I told thee late\nThat 'well they thrive';[3] and that 'no second such[4]\nHath risen,' which no small distinction needs.\n\n[3: See the last Canto, v. 93.]\n\n[4: See the last Canto, v. III.]\n\n\"The Providence, that governeth the world,\nIn depth of counsel by created ken\nUnfathomable, to the end that she,[5]\nWho with loud cries was 'spoused in precious blood,\nMight keep her footing toward her well - beloved,[6]\nSafe in herself and constant unto Him,\nHath two ordain'd, who should on either hand\nIn chief escort her: one,[7] seraphic all\nIn fervency; for wisdom upon earth,\nThe other,[8] splendour of cherubic light.\nI but of one will tell: he tells of both,\nWho one commendeth, which of them soe'er\nBe taken: for their deeds were to one end.\n\n[5: \"She.\" The Church.]\n\n[6: Jesus Christ.]\n\n[7: \"One.\" St. Francis.]\n\n[8: \"The other.\" St. Dominic.]\n\n\"Between Tupino,[9] and the wave that falls\nFrom blest Ubaldo's chosen hill, there hangs\nRich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold[10]\nAre wafted through Perugia's eastern gate:\nAnd Nocera with Gualdo, in its rear,\nMourn for their heavy yoke.[11] Upon that side,\nWhere it doth break its steepness most, arose\nA sun upon the world, as duly this\nFrom Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speak\nOf that place, say Ascesi; for its name\nWere lamely so deliver'd; but the East,\nTo call things rightly, be it henceforth styled.\nHe was not yet much distant from his rising,\nWhen his good influence 'gan to bless the earth.\nA dame,[12] to whom none openeth pleasure's gate\nMore than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will,[13]\nHis stripling choice: and he did make her his,\nBefore the spiritual court,[14] by nuptial bonds,\nAnd in his father's sight: from day to day,\nThen loved her more devoutly. She, bereaved\nOf her first Husband,[15] slighted and obscure,\nThousand and hundred years and more, remain'd\nWithout a single suitor, till he came.\nNor aught avail'd, that, with Amyclas,[16] she\nWas found unmoved at rumour of his voice,\nWho shook the world: nor aught her constant boldness,\nWhereby with Christ she mounted on the Cross,\nWhen Mary stay'd beneath. But not to deal\n\n[9: Thomas Aquinas describes the birthplace of St. Francis, between\nTupino, a rivulet near Assisi, or Ascesi, where the saint was born in 1182,\nand Chiascio, a stream that rises in a mountain near Agobbio, chosen by St.\nUbaldo for his retirement.]\n\n[10: Cold from the snow, and heart from the reflection of the sun.]\n\n[11: Vellutello understands this of the vicinity of the \"mountain\" to\nNocera and Gualdo; and Venturi of the heavy impositions laid on those places\nby the Perugians.]\n\n[12: In the under church of St. Francis, Assisi, is a picture painted\nby Giotto from this subject. It is considered one of the artist's best works.\nSee Kugler's \"Handbook of the History of Painting, translated by a lady.\"\nLond. 1842, p. 48.]\n\n[13: In opposition to the wishes of his natural father.]\n\n[14: He made a vow of poverty in the presence of the bishop and of\nhis natural father.]\n\n[15: \"Her first Husband.\" Christ.]\n\n[16: Lucan makes Caesar exclaim, on witnessing the secure poverty of\nthe fisherman Amyclas: -\n\n\"O happy poverty! thou greatest good\nBestow'd by Heaven, but seldom understood!\nHere nor the cruel spoiler seeks his prey,\nNor ruthless armies take their dreadful way.\" etc. - Rowe.]\n\nThus closely with thee longer, take at large\nThe lovers' titles - Poverty and Francis.\nTheir concord and glad looks, wonder and love,\nAnd sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,\nSo much, that venerable Bernard[17] first\nDid bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace\nSo heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow.\nO hidden riches! O prolific good!\nEgidius[18] bares him next, and next Sylvester,[19]\nAnd follow, both, the bridegroom: so the bride\nCan please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way,\nThe father and the master, with his spouse,\nAnd with that family, whom now the cord[20]\nGirt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart\nWeigh down his eyelids, for that he was son\nOf Pietro Bernardone,[21] and by men\nIn wondrous sort despised. But royally\nHis hard intention he to Innocent[22]\nSet forth; and, from him, first received the seal\nOn his religion. Then, when numerous flock'd\nThe tribe of lowly ones, that traced his steps,\nWhose marvellous life deservedly were sung\nIn heights empyreal; through Honorius'[23] hand\nA second crown, to deck their Guardian's virtues,\nWas by the eternal Spirit inwreathed: and when\nHe had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up\nIn the proud Soldan's presence,[24] and there preach'd\nChrist and His followers, but found the race\nUnripen'd for conversion; back once more\nHe hasted (not to intermit his toil)\nAnd reap'd Ausonian lands. On the hard rock,[25]\n\n[17: Of Quintavalle; one of the first followers of the saint.]\n\n[18: \"Egidius.\" The third of his disciples, who died in 1262. His\nwork, entitled \"Verba Aurea,\" was published in 1534, at Antwerp.]\n\n[19: Another of his earliest associates.]\n\n[20: \"Whom now the cord.\" St. Francis bound his body with a cord, in\nsign that it required, like a beast, to be led by a halter.]\n\n[21: A man in an humble station of life at Assisi.]\n\n[22: Pope Innocent III.]\n\n[23: \"Honorius.\" His successor Honorius III, who granted certain\nprivileges to the Franciscans.]\n\n[24: The Soldan of Egypt, before whom St. Francis is said to have\npreached.]\n\n[25: Mt. Alverna in the Apennines.]\n\n'Twixt Arno and the Tiber, he from Christ\nTook the last signet,[26] which his limbs two years\nDid carry. Then, the season come that He,\nWho to such good had destined him, was pleased\nTo advanced him to the meed, which he had earn'd\nBy his self - humbling; to his brotherhood,\nAs their just heritage, he gave in charge\nHis dearest lady:[27] and enjoin'd their love\nAnd faith to her; and, from her bosom, will'd\nHis goodly spirit should move forth, returning\nTo its appointed kingdom; nor would have\nHis body[28] laid upon another bier.\n\n[26: \"The last signet.\" Alluding to the stigmata, or marks resembling\nthe wounds of Christ, said to have been found on the saint's body.]\n\n[27: \"His dearest lady.\" Poverty.]\n\n[28: He forbade any funeral pomp to be observed at his burial; and,\nas it is said, ordered that his remains should be deposited in a place where\ncriminals were executed and interred.]\n\n\"Think now of one, who were a fit colleague\nTo keep the bark of Peter, in deep sea,\nHelm'd to right point; and such our Patriarch[29] was.\nTherefore who follow him as he enjoins,\nThou mayst be certain, take good lading in.\nBut hunger of new viands tempts his flock;[30]\nSo that they needs into strange pastures wide\nMust spread them: and the more remote from him\nThe stragglers wander, so much more they come\nHome, to the sheep - fold, destitute of milk.\nThere are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,\nAnd to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,\nA little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.\n\n[29: St. Dominic, to whose order Thomas Aquinas belonged.]\n\n[30: \"His flock.\" The Dominicans.]\n\n\"Now, if my words be clear; if thou have ta'en\nGood heed; if that, which I have told, recall\nTo mind; thy wish may be in part fulfill'd:\nFor thou wilt see the plant from whence they split;[31]\nAnd he shall see, who girds him, what that means,\n'That well they thrive, not swoln with vanity.'\"\n\n[31: \"The rule of their order, which the Dominicans neglect to\nobserve.\"]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 12\n\n\nCanto XII\n\nArgument\n\nA second circle of glorified souls encompasses the first. Buonaventura,\nwho is one of them, celebrates the praises of St. Dominic, and informs Dante\nwho the other eleven are, that are in this second circle of garland.\n\nSoon as its final word the blessed flame[1]\nHad raised for utterance, straight the holy mill[2]\nBegan to wheel; nor yet had once revolved,\nOr e'er another, circling, compass'd it,\nMotion to motion, song to song, conjoining;\nSong, that as much our muses doth excel,\nOur Syrens with their tuneful pipes, as ray\nOf primal splendour doth its faint reflex.\n\n[1: Thomas Aquinas.]\n\n[2: The circle of spirits.]\n\nAs when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth,\nTwo arches parallel, and trick'd alike,\nSpan the thin cloud, the outer taking birth\nFrom that within (in manner of that voice[3]\nWhom love did melt away, as sun the mist),\nAnd they who gaze, presageful call to mind\nThe compact, made with Noah, of the world\nNo more to be o'erflow'd; about us thus,\nOf sempiternal roses, bending, wreathed\nThose garlands twain; and to the innermost\nE'en thus the external answer'd. When the footing,\nAnd other great festivity, of song,\nAnd radiance, light with light accordant, each\nJocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still'd,\n(E'en as the eyes, by quick volition moved,\nAre shut and raised together), from the heart\nOf one[4] amongst the new lights[5] moved a voice,\n\n[3: One rainbow giving back the image of the other, as sound is\nreflected by Echo, that nymph, who was melted away by her fondness for\nNarcissus, as vapor is melted by the sun. The reader will observe in the text\nnot only a second and third simile within the first, but two mythological and\none sacred allusion bound up together with the whole. Even after his\naccumulation of imagery, the two circles of spirits, by whom Beatrice and\nDante were encompassed, are by a bold figure termed two garlands of\nneverfading roses.]\n\n[4: \"One.\" St. Buonaventura, general of the Franciscan order, in\nwhich he effected some reformation; and one of the most profound divines of\nhis age. \"He refused the archbishopric of York, which was offered him by\nClement IV, but afterward was prevailed on to accept the bishopric of Albano\nand a cardinal's hat. He was born at Bagnoregio or Bagnorea, in Tuscany, A. D.\n1221, and died in 1274.\" Dict. Histor, par Chaudon et Delandine, Ed. Lyon.\n1804.]\n\n[5: In the circle that had newly surrounded the first.]\n\nThat made me seem[6] like needle to the star,\nIn turning to its whereabout; and thus\nBegan: \"The love,[7] that makes me beautiful,\nPrompts me to tell of the other guide, for whom\nSuch good of mine is spoken. Where one is,\nThe other worthily should also be;\nThat as their warfare was alike, alike\nShould be their glory. Slow, and full of doubt,\nAnd with thin ranks, after its banner moved\nThe army of Christ, (which it so dearly cost\nTo reappoint), when its imperial Head\nWho reigneth ever, for the drooping host\nDid make provision, through grace alone,\nAnd not through its deserving. As thou heard'st,[8]\nTwo champions to the succour of His spouse\nHe sent, who by their deeds and words might join\nAgain His scatter'd people. In that clime,[9]\nWhere springs the pleasant west - wind to unfold\nThe fresh leaves, with which Europe sees herself\nNew - garmented; nor from those billows[10] far,\nBeyond whose chiding, after weary course,\nThe sun doth sometimes[11] hide him; safe abides\nThe happy Callaroga,[12] under guard\nOf the great shield, wherein the lion lies\nSubjected and supreme. And there was born\nThe loving minion of the Christian faith,[13]\nThe hallow'd wrestler, gentle to his own,\n\n[6: \"That made me turn to it, as the needle does to the pole.\"]\n\n[7: \"The love.\" By an act of mutual courtesy, Bounaventura, a\nFranciscan, is made to proclaim the praises of St. Dominic, as Thomas Aquinas,\na Dominican, has celebrated those of St. Francis; and in like manner each\nblames the irregularities, not of the other's order, but of that to which\nhimself belonged. Even Macchiavelli, no great friend to the Church, attributes\nthe revival of Christianity to the influence of these two saints.]\n\n[8: See the last Canto, v. 33.]\n\n[9: \"In that clime.\" Spain.]\n\n[10: \"Those billows.\" The Atlantic.]\n\n[11: During the summer solstice.]\n\n[12: \"Callaroga.\" Between Osma and Aranda, in Old Castile designated\nby the royal coat - of - arms.]\n\n[13: Dominic was born April 5, 1170, and died August 6, 1221. His\nbirthplace Callaroga; his father and mother's names. Felix, and Joanna; his\nmother's dream; his name of Dominic, given him in consequence of a vision by\nhis godmother, are all told in an anonymous life of the saint, said to have\nbeen written in the thirteenth century.]\n\nAnd to his enemies terrible. So replete\nHis soul with lively virtue, that when first\nCreated, even in the mother's womb,[14]\nIt prophesied. When, at the sacred font,\nThe spousals were complete 'twixt faith and him,\nWhere pledge of mutual safety was exchanged,\nThe dame,[15] who was his surety, in her sleep\nBeheld the wondrous fruit, that was from him\nAnd from his heirs to issue. And that such\nHe might be construed, as indeed he was,\nShe was inspired to name him of his owner,\nWhose he was wholly; and so call'd him Dominic.\nAnd I speak of him, as the labourer,\nWhom Christ in His own garden chose to be\nHis help - mate. Messenger he seem'd, and friend\nFast - knit to Christ; and the first love he show'd,\nWas after the first counsel[16] that Christ gave.\nMany a time[17] his nurse, at entering, found\nThat he had risen in silence, and was prostrate,\nAs who should say, 'My errand was for this,'\nO happy father! Felix[18] rightly named.\nO favour'd mother! rightly named Joanna;\nIf that do mean, as men interpret it.[19]\nNot for the world's sake, for which now they toil\nUpon Ostiense[20] and Taddeo's[21] lore;\nBut for the real manna, soon he grew\nMighty in learning; and did set himself\n\n[14: His mother, when pregnant with him, is said to have dreamt that\nshe should bring forth a white and black dog with a lighted torch in his\nmouth, which were signs of the habit to be worn by his order, and of his\nfervent zeal.]\n\n[15: His godmother's dream was, that he had one star in his forehead\nand another in the nape of his neck, from which he communicated light to the\neast and the west.]\n\n[16: \"Jesus said unto him, If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that\nthou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven; and\ncome and follow me.\" - Matt. xix. 21. Dominic is said to have followed this\nadvice.]\n\n[17: His nurse, when she returned to him, often found that he had\nleft his bed, and was prostrate, and in prayer.]\n\n[18: \"Felix.\" Felix Gusman.]\n\n[19: Grace or gift of the Lord.]\n\n[20: Arrigo (about 1250 A. D.), a native of Susa, and cardinal of\nOstia and Velletri, hence his name of Ostiense, was celebrated for his\nlectures on the Decretals.]\n\n[21: \"Taddeo. Either the physician or the lawyer of that name. The\nformer, T. d' Alderotto, a Florentine, called the Hippocratean, translated the\nEthics of Aristotle into Latin; and died toward the end of the thirteenth\ncentury. The other, of Bologna, left no writings behind him.]\n\nTo go about the vineyard, that soon turns\nTo wan and wither'd, if not tended well:\nAnd from the see[22] (whose bounty to the just\nAnd needy is gone by, not through its fault,\nBut his who fills it basely), he besought,\nNo dispensation[23] for commuted wrong,\nNor the first vacant fortune,[24] nor the tenths\nThat to God's paupers rightly appertain,\nBut, 'gainst an erring and degenerate world,\nLicense to fight, in favour of that seed[25]\nFrom which the twice twelve cions gird thee round.\nThen, with sage doctrine and good will to help,\nForth on his great apostleship he fared,\nLike torrent bursting from a lofty vein;\nAnd, dashing 'gainst the stocks of heresy,\nSmote fiercest, where resistance was most stout.\nThence many rivulets have since been turn'd,\nOver the garden catholic to lead\nTheir living waters, and have fed its plants.\n\n[22: \"The apostolic see, which no longer continues its wonted\nliberality toward the indigent and deserving; not indeed through its own\nfault, as its doctrines are still the same, but through the fault of the\npontiff, who is seated in it.\"]\n\n[23: Dominic did not ask for license to compound for the use of\nunjust acquisitions by dedicating a part of them to pious purposes.]\n\n[24: The first benefice that fell vacant.]\n\n[25: \"For that seed of the divine Word, from which have sprung up\nthese four - and - twenty plants, these holy spirits that now environ thee.\"]\n\n\"If such, one wheel[26] of that two - yoked car,\nWherein the holy Church defended her,\nAnd rode triumphant through the civil broil;\nThou canst not doubt its fellow's excellence,\nWhich Thomas,[27] ere my coming, hath declared\nSo courteously unto thee. But the track,[28]\nWhich its smooth fellies made, is now deserted:\nThat, mouldy mother is, where late were less.\nHis family, that wont to trace his path,\nTurn backward, and invert their steps; erelong\nTo rue the gathering in of their ill crop,\nWhen the rejected tares[29] in vain shall ask\n\n[26: Dominic; as the other wheel is Francis.]\n\n[27: \"Thomas.\" Thomas Aquinas.]\n\n[28: \"But the track.\" \"But the rule of St. Francis is already\ndeserted; and the lees of the wine are turned into mouldiness.\"]\n\n[29: \"Tares.\" He adverts to the parable of the tares and the wheat.]\n\nAdmittance to the barn. I question not[30]\nBut he, who search'd our volume, leaf by leaf,\nMight still find page with this inscription on't,\n\"I am as I was wont.\" Yet such were not\nFrom Acquasparta nor Casale, whence,\nOf those who come to meddle with the text,\nOne stretches and another cramps its rule.\nBonaventura's life in me behold,\nFrom Bagnoregio; one, who, in discharge\nOf my great offices, still laid aside\nAll sinister aim. Illuminato here,\nAnd Agostino[31] join me: two they were,\nAmong the first of those barefooted meek ones,\nWho sought God's friendship in the cord: with them\nHugues of Saint Victor,[32] Pietro Mangiadore;[33]\nAnd he of Spain[34] in his twelve volumes shining;\nNathan the prophet; Metropolitan\nChrysostom;[35] and Anselmo;[36] and, who deign'd\nTo put his hand to the first art, Donatus.\n\n[30: \"I question not.\" \"Some indeed might be found, who still observe\nthe rule of the order; but such would come neither from Casale nor\nAcquasparta.\" At Casale, in Monferrat, the discipline had been enforced by\nUberto with unnecessary rigor; and at Acquasparta, in the territory of Todi,\nit had been equally relaxed by the Cardinal Matteo, general of the order.]\n\n[31: Two among the earliest followers of St. Francis.]\n\n[32: \"Hugues of Saint Victor.\" He was of the monastery of St. Victor\nat Paris, and died in 1142, at the age of forty - four. His ten books,\nillustrative of the celestial hierarchy of Dionysius the Areopagite, according\nto the translation of Joannes Scotus, are inscribed to King Louis, son of\nLouis le Gros, by whom the monastery had been founded.]\n\n[33: \"Pietro Mangiadore.\" Petrus Comestor, or the Eater, born at\nTroyes, was canon and dean of that church, and afterward chancellor of the\nchurch of Paris. He relinquished these benefices to become a regular canon of\nSt. Victor at Paris, where he died in 1198.]\n\n[34: To Pope Adrian V succeeded John XXI, a native of Lisbon; a man\nof great genius and extraordinary acquirements, especially in logic and in\nmedicine, as his books, written in the name of Peter of Spain, (by which he\nwas known before he became Pope), may testify. He was killed at Viterbo, by\nthe falling in of the roof of his chamber, after he had been pontiff only\neight months and as many days, A. D. 1277.]\n\n[35: \"Chrysostom.\" The eloquent Patriarch of Constantinople.]\n\n[36: Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, was born at Aosta, about 1034,\nand studied under Lanfranc, at the monastery of Bec in Normandy, where he\nafterward devoted himself to a religious life, in his twenty - seventh year.\nIn three years he was made prior, and then abbot of that monastery; from\nwhence he was taken, in 1093, to succeed to.the archbishopric, vacant by the\ndeath of Lanfranc. He enjoyed this dignity till his death in 1109, though it\nwas disturbed by many dissensions with William II and Henry I respecting\nimmunities and investitures.]\n\nRaban[37] is here; and at my side there shines\nCalabria's abbot, Joachim,[38] endow'd\nWith soul prophetic. The bright courtesy\nOf friar Thomas and his goodly lore,\nHave moved me to the blazon of a peer[39]\nSo worthy; and with me have moved this throng.\"\n\n[37: Rabanus Maurus, Archbishop of Mentz, 847, is placed at the head\nof the Latin writers of this age.]\n\n[38: Abbot of Flora in Calabria; whom the multitude revered as\ndivinely inspired, and equal to the most illustrious prophets of ancient\ntimes.]\n\n[39: \"A Peer.\" St. Dominic.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 13\n\n\nCanto XIII\n\nArgument\n\nThomas Aquinas resumes his speech. He solves the other of those doubts\nwhich he discerned in the mind of Dante, and warns him earnestly against\nassenting to any proposition without having duly examined it.\n\nLet him,[1] who would conceive what now I saw,\nImagine, (and retain the image firm\nAs mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak,)\nOf stars, fifteen, from midst the ethereal host\nSelected that, with lively ray serene,\nO'ercome the massiest air: thereto imagine\nThe wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,\nSpins ever on its axle night and day,\nWith the bright summit of that horn, which swells\nDue from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,\nTo have ranged themselves in fashion of two signs\nIn Heaven, such as Ariadne made,\nWhen death's chill seized her; and that one of them\nDid compass in the other's beam; and both\nIn such sort whirl around, that each should tend\nWith opposite motion; and, conceiving thus,\nOf that true constellation, and the dance\nTwofold, that circled me, he shall attain\nAs 'twere the shadow; for things there as much\nSurpass our usage, as the swiftest Heaven\nIs swifter than the Chiana.[2] There was sung\n\n[1: \"Let him.\" \"Whoever would conceive the sight that now presented\nitself to me, must imagine to himself fifteen of the brightest stars in\nheaven, together with seven stars of Arcturus Major and two of Arcturus Minor,\nranged in two circles, one within the other, each resembling the crown of\nAriadne, and moving round in opposite directions.\"]\n\n[2: See Hell, Canto xxix. 45.]\n\nNo Bacchus, and no Io Paean, but\nThree Persons in the Godhead, and in one\nPerson that nature and the human join'd.\n\nThe song and round were measured: and to us\nThose saintly lights attended, happier made\nAt each new ministering. Then silence brake\nAmid the accordant sons of Deity,\nThat luminary,[3] in which the wondrous life\nOf the meek man of God[4] was told to me;\nAnd thus it spake: \"One ear[5] o' the harvest thresh'd,\nAnd its grain safely stored, sweet charity\nInvites me with the other to like toil.\n\n[3: Thomas Aquinas.]\n\n[4: St. Francis. See Canto xi. 25.]\n\n[5: Having solved one of thy questions, I proceed to answer the\nother. Thou thinkest then that Adam and Christ were both endued with all the\nperfection of which the human nature is capable; and therefore wonderest at\nwhat has been said concerning Solomon.\"]\n\n\"Thou know'st, that in the bosom,[6] whence the rib\nWas ta'en to fashion that fair cheek, whose taste\nAll the world pays for; and in that, which pierced\nBy the keen lance, both after and before\nSuch satisfaction offer'd as outweighs\nEach evil in the scale; whate'er of light\nTo human nature is allow'd, must all\nHave by His virtue been infused, who form'd\nBoth one and other: and thou thence admirest\nIn that I told thee, of beatitudes,\nA second there is none to him enclosed\nIn the fifth radiance. Open now thine eyes\nTo what I answer thee; and thou shalt see\nThy deeming and my saying meet in truth,\nAs centre in the round. That[7] which dies not,\nAnd that which can die, are but each the beam\nOf that idea, which our Sovereign Sire\nEngendereth loving; for that lively light,[8]\n\n[6: Thou knowest that in the breast of Adam, whence the rib was taken\nto make that fair cheek of Eve, which, by tasting the apple, brought death\ninto the world; and also in the breast of Christ, which, being pierced by the\nlance, made satisfaction for the sins of the whole world; as much wisdom\nresided, as human nature was capable of: and thou dost therefore wonder that I\nshould have spoken of Solomon as the wisest.\" See Canto x. 105.]\n\n[7: \"That.\" Things, corruptible and incorruptible, are only\nemanations from the archetypal idea residing in the Divine Mind.]\n\n[8: The Word; the Son of God.]\n\nWhich passeth from His splendour, not disjoin'd\nFrom Him, nor from His love triune with them,[9]\nDoth, through His bounty, congregate itself,\nMirror'd, as 'twere, in new existences;[10]\nItself unalterable, and ever one.\n\n[9: \"His love triune with them.\" The Holy Ghost.]\n\n[10: Angels and human souls.]\n\n\"Descending hence unto the lowest powers,[11]\nIts energy so sinks, at last it makes\nBut brief contingencies; for so I name\nThings generated, which the heavenly orbs\nMoving, with seed or without seed, produce.\nTheir wax, and that which moulds it,[12] differ much:\nAnd thence with lustre, more or less, it shows\nThe ideal stamp imprest: so that one tree,\nAccording to his kind, hath better fruit,\nAnd worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men,\nAre in your talents various. Were the wax\nMoulded with nice exactness, and the heaven[13]\nIn its disposing influence supreme,\nThe brightness of the seal[14] should be complete:\nBut nature renders it imperfect ever;\nResembling thus the artist, in his work,\nWhose faltering hand is faithless to his skill.\nTherefore,[15] if fervent Love dispose, and mark\nThe lustrous Image of the primal Virtue,\nThere all perfection is vouchsafed; and such\nThe clay[16] was made, accomplish'd with each gift,\nThat life can teem with; such the burden fill'd\nThe Virgin's bosom: so that I commend\nThy judgment, that the human nature ne'er\nWas, or can be, such as in them it was.\n\n[11: Irrational life and brute matter.]\n\n[12: \"Their wax, and that which moulds it.\" Matter, and the virtue or\nenergy that acts on it.]\n\n[13: \"The heaven.\" The influence of the planetary bodies.]\n\n[14: The brightness of the Divine idea before spoken of.]\n\n[15: \"Therefore.\" Daniello remarks that our Poet intends this for a\nbrief description of the Trinity: the primal virtue signifying the Father; the\nlustrous image, the Son; the fervent love, the Holy Ghost.]\n\n[16: \"The clay.\" Adam.]\n\n\"Did I advance no further than this point;\n'How then had he no peer?' thou might'st reply.\nBut, that what now appears not, may appear\n\nRight plainly, ponder, who he was, and what\n(When he was bidden 'Ask') the motive, sway'd\nTo his requesting. I have spoken thus,\nThat thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask'd[17]\nFor wisdom, to the end he might be king\nSufficient: not, the number to search out\nOf the celestial movers; or to know,\nIf necessary with contingent e'er\nHave made necessity; or whether that\nBe granted, that first motion[18] is; or if,\nOf the mid - circle,[19] can by art be made\nTriangle, with its corner blunt or sharp.\n\n[17: \"Who ask'd.\" \"He did not desire to know the number of the\ncelestial intelligences, or to pry into the subtleties of logical,\nmetaphysical, or mathematical science: but asked for that wisdom which might\nfit him for his kingly office.\"]\n\n[18: \"That first motion.\" \"If we must allow one first motion, which\nis not caused by other motion; a question resolved affirmatively by\nmetaphysics, according to that principle, repugnant in causis processus in\ninfinitum.\" Lombardi.]\n\n[19: \"Of the mid - circle.\" \"If in the half of the circle a\nrectilinear triangle can be described, one side of which shall be the diameter\nof the same circle, without its forming a right angle with the other two\nsides; which geometry shows to be impossible.\" Lombardi.]\n\n\"Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this,\nThou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn,\nAt which the dart of my intention aims.\nAnd, marking clearly, that I told thee, 'Risen,'\nThou shalt discern it only hath respect\nTo kings, of whom are many, and the good\nAre rare. With this distinction take my words;\nAnd they may well consist with that which thou\nOf the first human father dost believe,\nAnd of our well - beloved. And let this\nHenceforth be lead unto thy feet, to make\nThee slow in motion, as a weary man,\nBoth to the 'yea' and to the 'nay' thou seest not.\nFor he among the fools is down full low,\nWhose affirmation, or denial, is\nWithout distinction, in each case alike.\nSince it befalls, that in most instances\nCurrent opinion leans to false: and then\nAffection bends the judgment to her ply.\n\n\"Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore,\n\nSince he returns not such as he set forth,\nWho fishes for the truth and wanteth skill.\nAnd open proofs of this unto the world\nHave been afforded in Parmenides,\nMelissus, Bryso,[20] and the crowd beside,\nWho journey'd on, and knew not whither: so did\nSabellius, Arius,[21] and the other fools,\nWho, like to scimitars,[22] reflected back\nThe scripture - image by distortion marr'd.\n\n[20: \"_____ Parmenides, Melissus, Bryso.\" For the singular opinions\nentertained by the two former of these heathen philosophers, see Diogenes\nLaertius, lib. ix.]\n\n[21: \"Sabellius, Arius.\" Well - known heretics.]\n\n[22: \"Scrimitars.\" Bertradon de la Brocquiere, who wrote before\nDante, informs us that the wandering Arabs used their scimitars as mirrors.]\n\n\"Let not the people be too swift to judge;\nAs one who reckons on the blades in field,\nOr e'er the crop be ripe. For I have seen\nThe thorn frown rudely all the winter long,\nAnd after bear the rose upon its top;\nAnd bark, that all her way across the sea\nRan straight and speedy, perish at the last\nE'en in the haven's mouth. Seeing one steal,\nAnother bring his offering to the priest,\nLet not[23] Dame Birtha and Sir Martin[24] thence\nInto Heaven's counsels deem that they can pry;\nFor one of these may rise, the other fall.\"\n\n[23: \"Let not.\" \"Let not shortsighted mortals presume to decide on\nthe future doom of any man, from a consideration of his present character and\nactions.\" This is meant as an answer to the doubts entertained respecting the\nsalvation of Solomon. See Canto x. 107.]\n\n[24: \"Dame Birtha and Sir Martin.\" Names put generally for persons\nwho have more curiosity than discretion.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 14\n\n\nCanto XIV\n\nArgument\n\nSolomon, who is one of the spirits in the inner circle, declares what the\nappearance of the blest will be after the resurrection of the body. Beatrice\nand Dante are translated into the fifth heaven, which is that of Mars; and\nhere behold the souls of those, who had died fighting for the true faith,\nranged in the sign of the cross, athwart which the spirits move to the sound\nof a melodious hymn.\n\nFrom centre to the circle, and so back\nFrom circle to the centre, water moves\nIn the round chalice, even as the blow\nImpels it, inwardly, or from without.\nSuch was the image[1] glanced into my mind,\nAs the great spirit of Aquinum ceased;\nAnd Beatrice, after him, her words\nResumed alternate: \"Need there is (though yet\nHe tells it to you not in words, nor e'en\nIn thought) that he should fathom to its depth\nAnother mystery. Tell him, if the light,\nWherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you\nEternally, as now; and, if it doth,\nHow, when[2] ye shall regain your visible forms,\nThe sight may without harm endure the change,\nThat also tell.\" As those, who in a ring\nTread the light measure, in their fitful mirth\nRaise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound;\nThus, at the hearing of that pious suit,\nThe saintly circles, in their tourneying\nAnd wondrous note, attested new delight.\n\n[1: The voice of Thomas Aquinas proceeding from the circle to the\ncentre; and that of Beatrice, from the centre to the circle.]\n\n[2: \"When.\" When ye shall be again clothed with your bodies at the\nresurrection.]\n\nWhoso laments, that we must doff this garb\nOf frail mortality, thenceforth to live\nImmortally above; he hath not seen\nThe sweet refreshing of that heavenly shower.[3]\n\n[3: That effusion of beatific light.]\n\nHim, who lives ever, and forever reigns\nIn mystic union of the three in one,\nUnbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice\nSang, with such melody, as, but to hear,\nFor highest merit were an ample meed.\n\nAnd from the lesser orb the goodliest light,[4]\nWith gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps\nThe Angel's once to Mary, thus replied:\n\"Long as the joy of Paradise shall last,\nOur love shall shine around that raiment, bright\nAs fervent; fervent as, in vision, blest;\nAnd that as far, in blessedness, exceeding,\nAs it hath grace, beyond its virtue, great.\nOur shape, regarmented with glorious weeds\nOf saintly flesh, must, being thus entire,\nShow yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase\nWhate'er, of light, gratuitous imparts\nThe Supreme Good; light, ministering aid,\nThe better to disclose His glory; whence,\nThe vision needs increasing, must increase\nThe fervour, which it kindles; and that too\nThe ray, that comes from it. But as the gleed\nWhich gives out flame, yet in its whiteness shines\nMore livelily than that, and so preserves\nIts proper semblance; thus this circling sphere\nOf splendour shall to view less radiant seem,\nThan shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth\nNow covers. Nor will such excess of light\nO'erpowtr us, in corporeal organs made\nFirm, and susceptible of all delight.\"\n\n[4: \"The goodliest light.\" Solomon.]\n\nSo ready and so cordial an \"Amen\"\nFollow'd from either choir, as plainly spoke\nDesire of their dead bodies; yet perchance\nNot for themselves, but for their kindred dear,\nMothers and sires, and those whom best they loved,\nEre they were made imperishable flame.\n\nAnd lo! forthwith there rose up round about\nA lustre, over that already there;\nOf equal clearness, like the brightening up\nOf the horizon. As at evening hour\nOf twilight, new appearances through Heaven\nPeer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried;\nSo, there, new substances, methought, began\nTo rise in view beyond the other twain,\n\nAnd wheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.\n\nO genuine glitter of eternal Beam!\nWith what a sudden whiteness did it flow,\nO'erpowering vision in me. But so fair,\nSo passing lovely, Beatrice show'd,\nMind cannot follow it, nor words express\nHer infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain'd\nPower to look up; and I beheld myself,\nSole with my lady, to more lofty bliss[5]\nTranslated: for the star, with warmer smile\nImpurpled, well denoted our ascent.\n\n[5: \"To more lofty bliss.\" To the planet Mars.]\n\nWith all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks\nThe same in all, an holocaust I made\nTo God, befitting the new grace vouchsafed.\nAnd from my bosom had not yet upsteam'd\nThe fuming of that incense, when I knew\nThe rite accepted. With such mighty sheen\nAnd mantling crimson, in two listed rays\nThe splendours shot before me, that I cried,\n\"God of Sabaoth! that dost prank them thus!\"\n\nAs leads the galaxy from pole to pole,\nDistinguish'd into greater lights and less,\nIts pathway, which the wisest fail to spell;\nSo thickly studded, in the depth of Mars,\nThose rays described the venerable sign,\nThat quadrants in the round conjoining frame.\n\nHere memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ\nBeam'd on that cross; and pattern fails me now.\nBut whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ,\nWill pardon me for that I leave untold,\nWhen in the flecker'd dawning he shall spy\nThe glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn,\nAnd 'tween the summit and the base, did move\nLights, scintillating, as they met and pass'd.\nThus oft are seen with ever - changeful glance,\nStraight or athwart, now rapid and now slow,\nThe atomies of bodies, long or short,\nTo move along the sunbeam, whose slant line\nCheckers the shadow interposed by art\n\nAgainst the noontide heat. And as the chime\nOf minstrel music, dulcimer, and harp\nWith many strings, a pleasant dinning makes\nTo him, who heareth not distinct the note;\nSo from the lights, which there appear'd to me,\nGather'd along the cross a melody,\nThat, indistinctly heard, with ravishment\nPossess'd me. Yet I mark'd it was a hymn\nOf lofty praises; for there came to me\n\"Arise,\" and \"Conquer,\" as to one who hears\nAnd comprehends not. Me such ecstasy\nO'ercame, that never, till that hour, was thing\nThat held me in so sweet imprisonment.\n\nPerhaps my saying overbold appears,\nAccounting less the pleasure of those eyes,\nWhereon to look fulfilleth all desire.\nBut he, who is aware those living seals\nOf every beauty work with quicker force,\nThe higher they are risen; and that there\nI had not turn'd me to them; he may well\nExcuse me that, whereof in my excuse\nI do accuse me, and may own my truth;\nThat holy pleasure here not yet reveal'd\nWhich grows in transport as we mount aloof.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 15\n\n\nCanto XV\n\nArgument\n\nThe spirit of Cacciaguida, our Poet's ancestor, glides rapidly to the\nfoot of the cross; tells who he is; and speaks of the simplicity of the\nFlorentines in his days, since then much corrupted.\n\nTrue love, that ever shows itself as clear\nIn kindness, as loose appetite in wrong,\nSilenced that lyre harmonious, and still'd\nThe sacred cords, that are by Heaven's right hand\nUnwound and tighten'd. How to righteous prayers\nShould they not hearken, who, to give me will\nFor praying, in accordance thus were mute?\nHe hath in sooth good cause for endless grief,\nWho, for the love of thing that lasteth not,\nDespoils himself forever of that love.\n\nAs oft along the still and pure serene,\nAt nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire,\nAttracting with involuntary heed\nThe eye to follow it, erewhile at rest;\nAnd seems some star that shifted place in Heaven,\nOnly that, whence it kindles, none is lost,\nAnd it is soon extinct: thus from the horn,\nThat on the dexter of the cross extends,\nDown to its foot, one luminary ran\nFrom mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem\nDropp'd from its foil: and through the beamy list,\nLike flame in alabaster, glow'd its course.\n\nSo forward stretch'd him (if of credence aught\nOur greater muse may claim) the pious ghost\nOf old Anchises, in the Elysian bower,\nWhen he perceived his son. \"O thou, my blood!\nO most exceeding grace divine! to whom,\nAs now to thee, hath twice the heavenly gate\nBeen e'er unclosed?\" So spake the light: whence I\nTurn'd me toward him; then unto my dame\nMy sight directed: and on either side\nAmazement waited me; for in her eyes\nWas lighted such a smile, I thought that mine\nHad dived unto the bottom of my grace\nAnd of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith,\nTo hearing and to sight grateful alike,\nThe spirit to his proem added things\nI understood not, so profound he spake:\nYet not of choice, but through necessity,\nMysterious; for his high conception soar'd\nBeyond the mark of mortals. When the flight\nOf holy transport had so spent its rage,\nThat nearer to the level of our thought\nThe speech descended; the first sounds I heard\nWere, \"Blest be thou, Triunal Deity!\nThat hast such favour in my seed vouchsafed.\"\nThen follow'd. \"No unpleasant thirst, though long,\nWhich took me reading in the sacred book,\nWhose leaves or white or dusky never change,\nThou hast allay'd, my son! within this light,\nFrom whence my voice thou hear'st: more thanks to her,\nWho, for such lofty mounting, has with plumes\nBegirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me\nFrom Him transmitted, who is first of all,\nE'en as all numbers ray from unity;\nAnd therefore dost not ask me who I am,\nOr why to thee more joyous I appear,\nThan any other in this gladsome throng.\nThe truth is as thou deem'st; for in this life\nBoth less and greater in that Mirror look,\nIn which thy thoughts, or e'er thou think'st, are shown.\nBut, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever,\nUrging with sacred thirst of sweet desire,\nMay be contented fully; let thy voice,\nFearless, and frank, and jocund, utter forth\nThy will distinctly, utter forth the wish,\nWhereto my ready answer stands decreed.\"\n\nI turn'd me to Beatrice; and she heard\nEre I had spoken, smiling an assent,\nThat to my will gave wings; and I began:\n\"To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn'd\nThe nature, in whom naught unequal dwells,\nWisdom and love were in one measure dealt;\nFor that they are so equal in the Sun,\nFrom whence ye drew your radiance and your heat,\nAs makes all likeness scant. But will and means,\nIn mortals, for the cause ye well discern,\nWith unlike wings are fledged. A mortal, I\nExperience inequality like this;\nAnd therefore give no thanks, but in the heart,\nFor thy paternal greeting. This howe'er\nI pray thee, living topaz! that ingemm'st\nThis precious jewel; let me hear thy name.\"\n\n\"I am thy root,[1] O leaf! whom to expect\nEven, hath pleased me.\" Thus the prompt reply\nPrefacing, next it added: \"He, of whom[2]\n\n[1: \"I am thy root.\" Cacciaguida, father to Alighieri, of whom our\nPoet was the great - grandson.]\n\n[2: \"He, of whom.\" \"Thy great - grandfather, Alighieri, has been in\nthe first round of Purgatory more than a hundred years; and it is fit that\nthou by thy good deserts shouldst endeavor to shorten the time of his\nremaining there.\" His son Bellincione was living in 1266; and of him was born\nthe father of our Poet, whom Benvenuto da Imola calls a lawyer by profession.]\n\nThy kindred appellation comes, and who,\nThese hundred years and more, on its first ledge\nHath circuited the mountain, was my son,\nAnd thy great - grandsire. Well befits, his long\nEndurance should he shorten'd by thy deeds.\n\n\"Florence, within her ancient limit - mark,\nWhich calls her still[3] to matin prayers and noon,\nWas chaste and sober, and abode in peace.\nShe had no armlets and no head - tires then;\nNo purfled dames; no zone, the caught the eye\nMore than the person did. Time was not yet,\nWhen[4] at his daughter's birth the sire grew pale,\nFor fear the age and dowry should exceed,\nOn each side, just proportion. House was none\nVoid[5] of its family: nor yet had come\nSardanapalus,[6] to exhibit feats\nOf chamber prowess. Montemalo[7] yet\nO'er our suburban turret[8] rose; as much\nTo be surpass in fall, as in its rising.\nI saw Bellincion Berti[9] walk abroad\nIn leathern girdle, and a clasp of bone;\nAnd, with no artful colouring on her cheeks,\n\n[3: The public clock being still within the circuit of the ancient\nwalls.]\n\n[4: When the women were not married at too early an age, and did not\nexpect too large a portion.]\n\n[5: Through the civil wars and banishments. Or he may mean that\nhouses were not formerly built merely for show, nor of greater size than was\nnecessary for containing the families that inhabited them.]\n\n[6: The luxurious monarch of Assyria.]\n\n[7: Either an elevated spot between Rome and Viterbo; or Monte Mario,\nthe site of the villa Mellini, commanding a view of Rome.]\n\n[8: Uccellatojo, near Florence, whence that city was discovered.\nFlorence had not yet vied with Rome in the grandeur of her public buildings.]\n\n[9: \"Bellincion Berti.\" Hell, Canto xvi. 38, and notes. \"And observe\nthat in the time of the said people (A. D. 1259), and before and for a long\ntime after, the citizens of Florence lived soberly, on coarse viands, and at\nlittle cost, and in many customs and courtesies of life were rude and\nunpolished; and dressed themselves and their women in coarse cloths: many wore\nplain leather, without cloth over it; bonnets on their heads; and all, boots\non the feet; and the Florentine women were without ornament; the better sort\ncontent with a close gown of scarlet cloth of Ypres or of camlet, bound with a\ngirdle in the ancient mode, and a mantle lined with fur, and a hood to it,\nwhich was worn on the head; the common sort of women were clad in a coarse\ngown of Cambrai in like manner . . . and with their coarse way of living and\npoverty [the Florentines] did greater and more virtuous deeds than have been\ndone in our times with greater refinement and wealth.\" - G. Villani, lib. vi.\nc. lxxi.]\n\nHis lady leave the glass. The sons I saw\nOf Nerli, and of Vecchio,[10] well content\nWith unrobed jerkin; and their good dames handling\nThe spindle and the flax: O happy they!\nEach[11] sure of burial in her native land,\nAnd none left desolate a - bed for France.\nOne waked to tend the cradle, hushing it\nWith sounds that lull'd the parent's infancy:\nAnother, with her maidens, drawing off\nThe tresses from the distaff, lectured them\nOld tales of Troy, and Fesole, and Rome.\nA Salterello and Cianghella[12] we\nHad held a strange a marvel, as ye would\nA Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.\n\n[10: Two opulent families in Florence.]\n\n[11: \"Each.\" \"None fearful either of dying in banishment, or of being\ndeserted by her husband on a scheme of traffic in France.\"]\n\n[12: The latter of shameless woman of the family of Tosa, married to\nLito degli Alidosi of Imola: the former Lapo Salterello, a lawyer, with whom\nDante was at variance. \"We should have held an abandoned character, like\nthese, as a great wonder, as ye would the contrary now.\"]\n\n\"In such composed and seemly fellowship,\nSuch faithful and such fair equality,\nIn so sweet household, Mary[13] at my birth\nBestow'd me, call'd on with loud cries; and there,\nIn your old baptistery, I was made\nChristian at once and Cacciaguida; as were\nMy brethren, Eliseo and Moronto.\n\n[13: \"Mary.\" The Virgin was invoked in the pains of child - birth.\nPurgatory, Canto xx.21.]\n\n\"From Valdipado[14] came to me my spouse;\nAnd hence thy surname grew. I follow'd then\nThe Emperor Conrad:[15] and his knighthood he\nDid gird on me; in such a good part he took\nMy valiant service. After him I went\nTo testify against that evil law,\nWhose people,[16] by the Shepherd's fault, possess\nYour right usurp'd. There I by that foul crew\nWas disentangled from the treacherous world\n\n[14: Cacciaguida's wife, whose family name was Alighieri, came from\nFerrara, called Val di Pado, from its being watered by the Po.]\n\n[15: \"Conrad.\" The Emperor Conrad III, who died in 1152.]\n\n[16: The Mohammedans, who were left in the possession of the Holy\nLand, through the supineness of the Pope. See Canto iv. 123.]\n\nWhose base affection many a spirit soils;\nAnd from the martyrdom came to this peace.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 16\n\n\nCanto XVI\n\nArgument\n\nCacciaguida relates the time of his birth; and, describing the extent of\nFlorence when he lived there, recounts the names of the chief families who\nthen inhabited it. Its degeneracy, and subsequent disgrace, he attributes to\nthe introduction of families from the neighboring country and villages, and to\ntheir mixture with the primitive citizens.\n\nO slight respect of man's nobility!\nI never shall account it marvellous,\nThat our infirm affection here below\nThou movest to boasting; when I could not chuse,\nE'en in that region of unwarp'd desire,\nIn Heaven itself, but make my vaunt in thee.\nYet cloak thou art soon shorten'd; for that Time,\nUnless thou be eked out from day to day,\nGoes round thee with his shears. Resuming then,\nWith greeting[1] such as Rome was first to bear,\nBut since hath disaccustom'd, I began:\nAnd Beatrice, that a little space\nWas sever'd, smiled; reminding me of her,\nWhose cough embolden'd (as the story holds)\nTo first offence the doubting Guenever.[2]\n\n[1: \"With greeting.\" The Poet, who had addressed the spirit, not\nknowing him to be his ancestor, with a plain \"Thou,\" now uses more ceremony,\nand calls him \"You,\" according to a custom of the Romans in the latter times\nof the empire.]\n\n[2: Beatrice's smile reminded him of the female servant who, by her\ncoughing, emboldened Queen Guenever to encourage Lancelot. See Hell, Canto v.\n124.]\n\n\"You are my sire,\" said I: \"you give me heart\nFreely to speak my thought: above myself\nYou raise me. Through so many streams with joy\nMy soul is fill'd, that gladness wells from it;\nSo that it bears the mighty tide, and bursts not.\nSay then, my honour'd stem! what ancestors\nWere those you sprang from, and what years were mark'd\nIn your first childhood? Tell me of the fold,[3]\nThat hath Saint John for guardian, what was then\nIts state, and who in it were highest seated!\"\n\n[3: Florence, of which John the Baptist was the patron saint.]\n\nAs embers, at the breathing of the wind,\nTheir flame enliven; so that light I saw\nShine at my blandishments; and, as it grew\nMore fair to look on, so with voice more sweet,\nYet not in this our modern phrase, forthwith\nIt answer'd: \"From the day,[4] when it was said\n'Hail Virgin!' to the throes by which my mother,\nWho now is sainted, lighten'd her of me\nWhom she was heavy with, this fire had come\nFive hundred times and fourscore, to relume\nIts radiance underneath the burning foot\nOf its own lion. They, of whom I sprang,\nAnd I, had there our birth - place, where the last[5]\nPartition of our city first if reach'd\nBy him that runs her annual game. Thus much\nSuffice of my forefathers: who they were,\nAnd whence they hither came, more honourable\nIt is to pass in silence than to tell.\nAll those, who at that time were there, betwixt\nMars and the Baptist, fit to carry arms,\nWere but the fifth of them this day alive.\nBut then the citizen's blood, that now is mix'd\nFrom Campi and Certaldo and Fighine,[6]\nRan purely through the last mechanic's veins.\nO how much better were it, that these people[7]\nWere neighbours to you; and that at Galluzzo\nAnd at Trespiano ye should have your boundary;\nThan to have them within, and bear the stench\nOf Aguglione's hind, and Signa's,[8] him,\nThat hath his eye already keen for bartering.\nHad not the people,[9] which of all the world\n\n[4: From the incarnation of our Lord to the birth of Cacciaguida, the\nplanet Mars had returned 580 times to the constellation of Leo, with which it\nis supposed to have a congenial influence. As Mars then completed his\nrevolution in a period of forty - three days short of two years, Cacciaguida\nwas born about 1090.]\n\n[5: The city was divided into four compartments. The Elisei, the\nancestors of Dante, resided near the entrance of that named from the Porta S.\nPiero, which was the last reached by the competitor in the annual race at\nFlorence.]\n\n[6: Country places near Florence.]\n\n[7: \"That the inhabitants of the above - mentioned places had not\nbeen mixed with the citizens; nor the limits of Florence extended beyond\nGalluzzo and Trespiano.\"]\n\n[8: Baldo of Aguglione, and Bonifazio of Signa.]\n\n[9: If Rome had continued in her allegiance to the Emperor, and the\nGuelfi - Ghibelline factions had thus been prevented, Florence would not have\nbeen polluted by a race of upstarts, nor lost her best element.]\n\nDegenerates most, been stepdame unto Caesar,\nBut, as a mother to her son, been kind,\nSuch one, as hath become a Florentine,\nAnd trades and traffics, hath been turn'd adrift\nTo Simifonte,[10] where his grandsire plied\nThe beggar's craft: the Conti were possest\nOf Montemurlo[11] still: the Cerchi still\nWere in Acone's parish: nor had haply\nFrom Valdigreve passed the Buondelmonti.\nThe city's malady hath ever source\nIn the confusion of its persons, as\nThe body's, in variety of food:\nAnd the blind bull falls with a steeper plunge,\nThan the blind lamb: and oftentimes one sword\nDoth more and better execution,\nThan five. Mark Luni; Urbisaglia[12] mark;\nHow they are gone; and after them how go\nChiusi and Sinigaglia![13] and't will seem\nNo longer new, or strange to thee, to hear\nThat families fail, when cities have their end.\nAll things that appertain to ye, like yourselves,\nAre mortal: but mortality in some\nYe mark not; they endure so long, and you\nPass by so suddenly. And as the moon\nDoth, by the rolling of her heavenly sphere,\nHide and reveal the strand unceasingly;\nSo fortune deals with Florence. Hence admire not\nAt what of them I tell thee, whose renown\nTime covers, the first Florentines. I saw\nThe Ughi, Catilini, and Filippi,\nThe Alberichi, Greci, and Ormanni,\nNow in their wane, illustrious citizens;\nAnd great as ancient, of Sannella him,\nWith him of Arca saw, and Soldanieri,\n\n[10: A castle dismantled by the Florentines. The person here alluded\nto is not known.]\n\n[11: The Conti Guidi, unable to defend their castle from the\nPistoians, sold it to the state of Florence.]\n\n[12: Cities formerly of importance, but then fallen to decay.]\n\n[13: The same.]\n\nAnd Ardinghi, and Bostichi. At the poop[14]\nThat now is laden with new felony\nSo cumbrous it may speedily sink the bark,\nThe Ravignani sat, or whom is sprung\nThe County Guido, and whoso hath since\nHis title from the famed Bellincion ta'en.\nFair governance was yet an art well prized\nBy him of Pressa: Galigaio show'd\nThe gilded hilt and pommel,[15] in his house;\nThe column, clothed with verrey,[16] still was seen\nUnshaken; the Sacchetti still were great,\nGiuochi, Fifanti, Galli, and Barucci,\nWith them[17] who blush to hear the bushel named.\nOf the Calfucci still the branchy trunk\nWas in its strength: and, to the curule chairs,\nSizii and Arrigucci[18] yet were drawn.\nHow mighty them[19] I saw, whom, since, their pride\nHath undone! And in all their goodly deeds\nFlorence was, by the bullets of bright gold,[20]\nO'erflourish'd. Such the sires of those,[21] who now,\nAs surely as your church is vacant, flock\nInto her consistory, and at leisure\nThere stall them and grow fat. The o'erweening broad,[22]\nThat plays the dragon after him that flees,\nBut unto such as turn and show the tooth,\nAy or the purse, is gentle as a lamb,\nWas on its rise, but yet so slight esteem'd,\nThat Ubertino of Donati grudged\nHis father - in - law should yoke him to its tribe.\n\n[14: The Cerchi, Dante's enemies, had succeeded to the houses over\nthe gate of St. Peter.]\n\n[15: The symbols of knighthood.]\n\n[16: The arms of the Pigli, or as some wrote it, the Billi.]\n\n[17: Either the Chiaramontesi, or the Tosinghi; one of which had\ncommitted a fraud in measuring out the wheat from the public granary. See\nPurgatory, Canto xii. 99.]\n\n[18: \"These families still obtained the magistracies.\"]\n\n[19: \"Them.\" The Uberti.]\n\n[20: The arms of the Abbati, or of the Lamberti.]\n\n[21: Of the Visdomini, the Tosinghi, and the Cortigiani, who, being\nsprung from the founders of the bishopric of Florence, are the curators of its\nrevenues, which they do not spare, whenever it becomes vacant.]\n\n[22: This family was so little esteemed that Ubertino Donato, of the\nsame stock as his wife, was offended with his father - in - law, Bellincion\nBerti, for giving another daughter to one of them.]\n\nAlready Caponsacco[23] had descended\nInto the mart from Fesole: and Giuda\nAnd Infangato[24] were good citizens.\nA thing incredible I tell, though true:\nThe gateway, named from those of Pera, led\nInto the narrow circuit of your wells.\nEach one, who bears the sightly quarterings\nOf the great Baron,[25] (he whose name and worth\nThe festival of Thomas still revives,)\nHis knighthood and his privilege retain'd;\nAlbeit one,[26] who borders them with gold,\nThis day is mingled with the common herd.\nIn Borgo yet the Gualterotti dwelt,\nAnd Importuni;[27] well for its repose,\nHad it still lack'd of newer neighbourhood.[28]\nThe house,[29] from whence your tears have had their spring,\nThrough the just anger, that hath murder'd ye\nAnd put a period to your gladsome days,\nWas honour'd; it, and those consorted with it.\nO Buondelmonte! what ill counselling\nPrevail'd on thee to break the plighted bond?\nMany, who now are weeping, would rejoice,\nHad God to Ema[30] given thee, the first time\nThou near our city camest. But so was doom'd:\n\n[23: The Caponsacchi, who had removed from Fiesole.]\n\n[24: Guida Guidi and the family of Infangati.]\n\n[25: The Marchese Ugo, who resided at Florence as lieutenant of the\nEmperor Otho III, gave many of the chief families license to bear his arms. A\nvision is related, in consequence of which he sold all his possessions in\nGermany, and founded seven abbeys, in one whereof his memory was celebrated at\nFlorence on St. Thomas' day. \"The marquis, when hunting, strayed away from\nhis people, and, wandering through a forest, came to a smithy, where he saw\nblack and deformed men tormenting others with fire and hammers; and, asking\nthe meaning of this, he was told that they were condemned souls, who suffered\nthis punishment, and that the soul of the Marchese Ugo was doomed to suffer\nthe same, if he did not repent. Struck with horror, he commended himself to\nthe Virgin Mary; and soon after founded the seven religious houses.\"]\n\n[26: Giano della Bella, of one of the families thus distinguished,\nwho no longer retained his place among the nobility, and had yet added to his\narms a bordure or.]\n\n[27: Two families in the compartment of the city called Borgo.]\n\n[28: Some understand this of the Bardi; and others, of the\nBuondelmonti.]\n\n[29: \"The house.\" Of Amidei.]\n\n[30: \"To Ema.\" \"It had been well for the city if thy ancestor had\nbeen drowned in the Ema when he crossed that stream on his way from Montebuono\nto Florence.\"]\n\nFlorence! on that maim'd stone[31] which guards the bridge\nThe victim, when thy peace departed, fell.\n\n[31: Near the remains of the statute of Mars, Buondelmonti was slain,\nas if he had been a victim to the god; and Florence had not since known the\nblessing of peace.]\n\n\"With these and others like to them, I saw\nFlorence in such assured tranquillity,\nShe had no cause at which to grieve: with these\nSaw her so glorious and so just, that ne'er\nThe lily[32] from the lance had hung reverse,\nOr through division been with vermeil dyed.\"\n\n[32: The arms of Florence had never hung reversed on the spear of her\nenemies; nor been changed from argent to gules; as they afterward were, when\nthe Guelfi gained the predominance.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 17\n\n\nCanto XVII\n\nArgument\n\nCacciaguida predicts to our Poet his exile and the calamities he had to\ninfer; and, lastly, exhorts him to write the present poem.\n\nSuch as the youth,[1] who came to Clymene,\nTo certify himself of that reproach\nWhich had been fasten'd on him, (he whose end,\nStill makes the fathers chary to their sons),\nE'en such was I; nor unobserved was such\nOf Beatrice, and that saintly lamp,[2]\nWho had erewhile for me his station moved;\nWhen thus my lady: \"Give thy wish free vent,\nThat it may issue, bearing true report\nOf the mind's impress: not that aught thy words\nMay to our knowledge add, but to the end\nThat thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst,[3]\nAnd men may mingle for thee when they hear.\"\n\n[1: Phaeton, who came to his mother Clymene, to inquire if he were\nindeed the son of Apollo.]\n\n[2: Cacciaguida.]\n\n[3: \"That thou mayst obtain from others a solution of any doubt that\nmay occur to thee.\"]\n\n\"O plant, from whence I spring! revered and loved!\nWho soar'st so high a pitch, that thou as clear,[4]\nAs earthly thought determines two obtuse\nIn one triangle not contain'd, so clear\nDost see contingencies, ere in themselves\nExistent, looking at the point[5] whereto\nAll times are present; I, the whilst I scaled\nWith Virgil the soul - purifying mount\nAnd visited the nether world of woe,\nTouching my future destiny have heard\nWords grievous, though I feel me on all sides\nWell squared to fortune's blows. Therefore my will\nWere satisfied to know the lot awaits me;\nThe arrow, seen beforehand, slacks his flight.\"\n\n[4: \"Thou beholdest future events with the same clearness of evidence\nthat we discern the simplest mathematical demonstrations.\"]\n\n[5: The divine nature.]\n\nSo said I to the brightness, which erewhile\nTo me had spoken; and my will declared,\nAs Beatrice will'd, explicitly.\nNor with oracular response obscure,\nSuch as, or e'er the Lamb of God was slain,\nBeguiled the credulous nations: but, in terms\nPrecise, and unambiguous lore, replied\nThe spirit of paternal love, enshrined,\nYet in his smile apparent; and thus spake:\n\"Contingency,[6] whose verge extendeth not\nBeyond the tablet of your mortal mold,\nIs all depictured in the eternal sight;\nBut hence deriveth not necessity,[7]\nMore than the tall ship, hurried down the flood,\nIs driven by the eye that looks on it.\nFrom thence,[8] as to the ear sweet harmony\nFrom organ comes, so comes before mine eye\nThe time prepared for thee. Such as driven out\nFrom Athens, by his cruel stepdame's[9] wiles,\nHippolytus departed; such must thou\nDepart from Florence. This they wish, and this\nContrive, and will ere long effectuate, there,[10]\nWhere gainful merchandize is made of Christ\nThroughout the live - long day. The common cry,[11]\nWill, as 'tis ever wont, affix the blame\n\n[6: \"Contingency.\" Contingency, which has no place beyond the limits\nof the material world.]\n\n[7: \"The evidence with which we see casual events portrayed in the\nsource of all truth, no more necessitates those events, than does the image,\nreflected in the sight by a ship sailing down a stream, necessitate the motion\nof the vessel.\"]\n\n[8: From the view of the Deity Himself.]\n\n[9: Phaedra.]\n\n[10: \"There.\" At Rome, where the expulsion of Dante's party from\nFlorence was then plotting, in 1300.]\n\n[11: The multitude will, as usual, be ready to blame those who are\nsufferers, whose cause will at last be vindicated by the overthrow of their\nenemies.]\n\nUnto the party injured: but the truth\nShall, in the vengeance it dispenseth, find\nA faithful witness. Thou shalt leave each thing\nBeloved most dearly: this is the first shaft\nShot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove\nHow salt the savour is of other's bread;\nHow hard the passage, to descend and climb\nBy other's stairs. But that shall gall thee most,\nWill be the worthless and vile company,\nWith whom thou must be thrown into these straits.\nFor all ungrateful, impious all, and mad,\nShall turn 'gainst thee: but in a little while,\nTheirs,[12] and not thine, shall be the crimson'd brow.\nTheir course shall so evince their brutishness,\nTo have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee.\n\n[12: \"They shall be ashamed of the part they have taken against\nthee.\"]\n\n\"First refuge thou must find, first place of rest,\nIn the great Lombard's[13] courtesy, who bears,\nUpon the ladder perch'd, the sacred bird.\nHe shall behold thee with such kind regard,\nThat 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that\nWhich 'falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall\nForerun the asking. With him shalt thou see\nThat mortal,[14] who was at his birth imprest\nSo strongly from this star, that of his deeds\nThe nations shall take note. His unripe age\nYet holds him from observance; for these wheels\nOnly nine years have compasst him about.\nBut, ere the Gascon[15] practise on great Harry,[16]\nSparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him,\nIn equal scorn of labours and of gold\nHis bounty shall be spread abroad so widely,\nAs not to let the tongues, e'en of his foes,\nBe idle in its praise. Look thou to him,\nAnd his beneficence: for he shall cause\nReversal of their lot to many people;\n\n[13: Either Bartolommeo della Scala or Alboino his brother. Their\ncoat-of-arms was a ladder and an eagle.]\n\n[14: \"That mortal.\" Can Grande della Scala, born under the influence\nof Mars, but at this time only nine years old. He was a son of Alberto della\nScala.]\n\n[15: \"The Gascon.\" Pope Clement V.]\n\n[16: The Emperor Henry VII.]\n\nRich men and beggars interchanging fortunes.\nAnd thou shalt bear this written in thy soul'\nOf him, but tell it not:\" and things he told\nIncredible to those who witness them;\nThen added: \"So interpret thou, my son,\nWhat hath been told thee. - Lo! the ambushment\nThat a few circling seasons hide for thee.\nYet envy not thy neighbours: time extends\nThy span beyond their treason's chastisement.\"\n\nSoon as the saintly spirit, by silence, mark'd\nCompletion of that web, which I had stretch'd\nBefore it, warp'd for weaving; I began,\nAs one, who in perplexity desires\nCounsel of other, wise, benign and friendly:\n\"My father! well I mark how time spurs on\nToward me, ready to inflict the blow,\nWhich falls most heavily on him who most\nAbandoneth himself. Therefore 'tis good\nI should forecast, that, driven from the place[17]\nMost dear to me, I may not lose myself[18]\nAll other by my song. Down through the world\nOf infinite mourning; and along the mount,\nFrom whose fair height my lady's eyes did lift me;\nAnd, after, through this Heaven, from light to light;\nHave I learnt that, which if I tell again,\nIt may with many wofully disrelish:\nAnd, if I am a timid friend to truth,\nI fear my life may perish among those,\nTo whom these days shall be of ancient date.\"\n\n[17: \"The place.\" Our poet here discovers both that Florence, much as\nhe inveighs against it, was still the dearest object of his affections, and\nthat it was not without some scruple he indulged his satirical vein.]\n\n[18: \"That being driven out of my country, I may not deprive myself\nof every other place by the boldness with which I expose in my writings the\nvices of mankind.\"]\n\nThe brightness, where enclosed the treasure[19] smiled,\nWhich I had found there, first shone glisteringly,\nLike to a golden mirror in the sun;\nNext answer'd: \"Conscience, dimm'd or by its own\nOr other's shame, will feel thy saying sharp.\nThou, notwithstanding, all deceit removed,\n\n[19: \"The treasure.\" Cacciaguida.]\n\nSee the whole vision be made manifest;\nAnd let them wince, who have their withers wrung.\nWhat though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove\nUnwelcome: on digestion, it will turn\nTo vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest,\nShall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits;\nWhich is of honour no light argument.\nFor this, there only have been shown to thee,\nThroughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep,\nSpirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind\nOf him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce\nAnd fix its faith, unless the instance brought\nBe palpable, and proof apparent urge.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 18\n\n\nCanto XVIII\n\nArgument\n\nDante sees the souls of many renowned warriors and crusaders in the\nplanet Mars; and then ascends with Beatrice to Jupiter, the sixth heaven, in\nwhich he finds the souls of those who had administered justice rightly in the\nworld, so disposed, as to form the figure of an eagle. The Canto concludes\nwith an invective against the avarice of the clergy, and especially of the\npope.\n\nNow in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd\nThat blessed spirit and I fed on mine,\nTempering the sweet with bitter. She meanwhile,\nWho led me unto God, admonish'd: \"Muse\nOn other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him\nI dwell, who recompenseth every wrong.\"\n\nAt the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn'd;\nAnd, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,\nI leave in silence here, nor through distrust\nOf my words only, but that to such bliss\nThe mind remounts not without aid. Thus much\nYet may I speak; that, as I gazed on her,\nAffection found no room for other wish.\nWhile the everlasting pleasure, that did full\nOn Beatrice shine, with second view\nFrom her fair countenance my gladden'd soul\nContended; vanquishing me with a beam\nOf her soft smile, she spake: \"Turn thee, and list.\nThese eyes are not thy only Paradise.\"\n\nAs here, we sometimes in the looks may see\nThe affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en\nThe spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light,[1]\nTo whom I turn'd, flashing, bewray'd its will\nTo talk yet further with me, and began:\n\"On this fifth lodgment of the tree,[2] whose life\nIs from its top, whose fruit is ever fair\nAnd leaf unwithering, blessed spirits abide,\nThat were below, ere they arrived in Heaven,\nSo mighty in renown, as every muse\nMight grace her triumph with them. On the horns\nLook, therefore, of the cross: he whom I name,\nShall there enact, as doth in summer cloud\nIts nimble fire.\" Along the cross I saw,\nAt the repeated name of Joshua,\nA splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,\nEre it was done: then, at the naming, saw,\nOf the great Maccabee,[3] another move\nWith whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge\nUnto that top. The next for Charlemain\nAnd for the peer Orlando, two my gaze\nPursued, intently, as the eye pursues\nA falcon flying. Last, along the cross,\nWilliam, and Renard,[4] and Duke Godfrey[5] drew\nMy ken, and Robert Guiscard.[6] And the soul\nWho spake with me, among the other lights\nDid move away, and mix; and with the quire\nOf heavenly songsters proved his tuneful skill.\n\n[1: In which the spirit of Cacciaguida was enclosed.]\n\n[2: Mars, the fifth of the heavens.]\n\n[3: Judas Maccabaeus.]\n\n[4: Probably not William II of Orange, and his kinsman Raimbaud, two\nof the crusaders under Godfrey of Bouillon, but rather the two more celebrated\nheroes in the age of Charlemain. The former, William I of Orange, supposed to\nhave been the founder of the present illustrious family of that name, died\nabout 808. The latter has been celebrated by Ariosto, under the name of\nRinaldo.]\n\n[5: Godfrey of Bouillon.]\n\n[6: See Hell, Canto xxviii. 12.]\n\nTo Beatrice on my right I bent,\nLooking for intimation, or by word\nOr act, what next behoved; and did descry\nSuch mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,\nIt pass'd all former wont. And, as by sense\nOf new delight, the man, who perseveres\nIn good deeds, doth perceive, from day to day,\n\nHis virtue growing; I e'en thus perceived,\nOf my ascent, together with the Heaven,\nThe circuit widen'd; noting the increase\nOf beauty in that wonder. Like the change\nIn a brief moment on some maiden's cheek,\nWhich, from its fairness, doth discharge the weight\nOf pudency, that stain'd it; such in her,\nAnd to mine eyes so sudden was the change,\nThrough silvery whiteness of that temperate star,\nWhose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,\nWithin that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks\nOf love, that reign'd there, fashion to my view\nOur language. And as birds, from river banks\nArisen, now in round, now lengthen'd troop,\nArray them in their flight, greeting, as seems\nTheir new - found pastures; so, within the lights,\nThe saintly creatures flying, sang; and made\nNow D, now I, now L, figured i' the air\nFirst singing to their notes they moved; then, one\nBecoming of these signs, a little while\nDid rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine\nOf Pegasean race! who souls, which thou\nInspirest, makest glorious and long - lived, as they\nCities and realms by thee; thou with thyself\nInform me; that I may set forth the shapes,\nAs fancy doth present them: be thy power\nDisplay'd in this brief song. The characters,\nVocal and consonant, were five - fold seven.\nIn order, each, as they appear'd, I mark'd.\nDiligite Justitiam, the first,\nBoth verb and noun all blazon'd; and the extreme,\nQui judicatis terram. In the M\nOf the fifth word they held their station;\nMaking the star seem silver streak'd with gold.\nAnd on the summit of the M, I saw\nDescending other lights, that rested there,\nSinging, methinks, their bliss and primal good.\nThen, as at shaking of a lighted brand,\nSparkles innumerable on all sides\nRise scatter'd, source of augury to the unwise;\nThus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence\nSeem'd reascending; and a higher pitch\nSome mounting, and some less, e'en as the sun,\nWhich kindleth them, decreed. And when each one\nHad settled in his place; the head and neck\nThen saw I of an eagle, livelily\nGraved in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,[7]\nHath none to guide Him: of Himself He guides:\nAnd every line and texture of the nest\nDoth own from Him the virtue fashions it.\nThe other bright beatitude,[8] that seem'd\nErewhile, with lilied crowning, well content\nTo over-canopy the M, moved forth,\nFollowing gently the impress of the bird.\n\n[7: \"Who painteth there.\" The Deity himself.]\n\n[8: The band of spirits.]\n\nSweet star; what glorious and thick - studded gems\nDeclared to me our justice on the earth\nTo be the effluence of that Heaven, which thou,\nThyself a costly jewel, dost inlay.\nTherefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom\nThy motion and thy virtue are begun,\nThat He would look from whence the fog doth rise,\nTo vitiate thy beam; so that once more[9]\nHe may put forth his hand 'gainst such, as drive\nTheir traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls\nWith miracles and martyrdoms were built.\n\n[9: That he may again drive out those who buy and sell in the\ntemple.]\n\nYe host of Heaven, whose glory I survey!\nO beg ye grace for those, that are, on earth,\nAll after ill example gone astray.\nWar once had for his instrument the sword:\nBut now 'tis made, taking the bread away,[10]\nWhich the good Father locks from none. - And thou,\nThat writest but to cancel,[11] think, that they,\nWho for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,\nPeter and Paul, live yet, and mark thy doings.\n\n[10: \"Taking the bread away.\" Excommunication, or interdiction of the\nEucharist, is now employed as a weapon of warfare.]\n\n[11: \"That writest but to cancel.\" \"And thou, Pope Boniface, who\nwritest thy ecclesiastical censures for no other purpose than to be paid for\nrevoking them.\"]\n\nThou hast good cause to cry, \"My heart so cleaves\nTo him,[12] that lived in solitude remote,\nAnd for a dance was dragg'd to martyrdom,\nI wist not of the Fisherman nor Paul.\"\n\n[12: \"To him.\" The coin of Florence was stamped with the impression\nof John the Baptist; and, for this, the avaricious Pope is made to declare\nthat he felt more devotion, than either for Peter or Paul.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 19\n\n\nCanto XIX\n\nArgument\n\nThe eagle speaks as with one voice proceeding from a multitude of\nspirits, that compose it; and declares the cause for which it is exalted to\nthat state of glory. It then solves a doubt, which our Poet had entertained,\nrespecting the possibility of salvation without belief in Christ; exposes the\ninefficacy of a mere profession of such belief; and prophesies the evil\nappearance that many Christian potentates will make at the day of judgment.\n\nBefore my sight appear'd, with open wings,\nThe beauteous image; in fruition sweet,\nGladdening the thronged spirits. Each did seem\nA little ruby, whereon so intense\nThe sun - beam glow'd, that to mine eyes it came\nIn clear refraction. And that, which next\nBefalls me to portray, voice hath not utter'd,\nNor hath ink written, nor in fantasy\nWas e'er conceived. For I beheld and heard\nThe beak discourse; and, what intention form'd\nOf many, singly as of one express,\nBeginning: \"For that I was just and piteous,\nI am exalted to this height of glory,\nThe which no wish exceeds: and there on earth\nHave I my memory left, e'en by the bad\nCommended, while they leave its course untrod.\"\n\nThus is one heat from many embers felt;\nAs in that image many were the loves,\nAnd one the voice, that issued from them all:\nWhence I address'd them: \"O perennial flowers\nOf gladness everlasting! that exhale\nIn single breath your odours manifold;\nBreathe now: and let the hunger be appeased,\nThat with great craving long hath held my soul,\nFinding no food on earth. This well I know;\n\nThat if there be in Heaven a realm, that shows\nIn faithful mirror the celestial Justice,\nYours without veil reflects it. Ye discern\nThe heed, wherewith I do prepare myself\nTo hearken; ye, the doubt, that urges me\nWith such inveterate craving.\" Straight I saw,\nLike to a falcon issuing from the hood,\nThat rears his head, and claps him with his wings,\nHis beauty and his eagerness bewraying;\nSo saw I move that stately sign, with praise\nOf grace divine inwoven, and high song\nOf inexpressive joy. \"He,\" it began,\n\"Who turn'd His compass on the world's extreme,\nAnd in that space so variously hath wrought,\nBoth openly and in secret; in such wise\nCould not, through all the universe, display\nImpression of His glory, that the Word\nOf His omniscience should not still remain\nIn infinite excess. In proof whereof,\nHe first through pride supplanted, who was sum\nOf each created being, waited not\nFor light celestial; and abortive fell.\nWhence needs each lesser nature is but scant\nReceptacle unto that God, which knows\nNo limit, measured by itself alone.\nTherefore your sight, of the omnipresent Mind\nA single beam, its orgin must own\nSurpassing far its utmost potency.\nThe ken, your world is gifted with, descends\nIn the everlasting Justice as low down,\nAs eye doth in the sea; which, though it mark\nThe bottom from the shore, in the wide main\nDiscerns it not; and ne'ertheless it is;\nBut hidden through its deepness. Light is none,\nSave that which cometh from the pure serene\nOf ne'er disturbed ether: for the rest,\n'Tis darkness all; or shadow of the flesh,\nOr else its poison. Here confess reveal'd\nThat covert, which hath hidden from thy search\nThe living justice, of the which thou madest\nSuch frequent question; for thou said'st - 'A man\nIs born on Indus' banks, and none is there\nWho speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write;\nAnd all his inclinations and his acts,\nAs far as human reason sees, are good;\nAnd he offendeth not in word or deed:\nBut unbaptized he dies, and void of faith.\nWhere is the justice that condemns him? where\nHis blame, if he believeth not?' - What then,\nAnd who art thou, that on the stool wouldst sit\nTo judge at distance of a thousand miles\nWith the short - sighted vision of a span?\nTo him, who subtilizes thus with me,\nThere would assuredly be room for doubt\nEven to wonder, did not the safe word\nOf Scripture hold supreme authority.\n\n\"O animals of clay! O spirits gross!\nThe Primal Will,[1] that in itself is good,\nHath from itself, the chief Good, ne'er been moved.\nJustice consists in consonance with it,\nDerivable by no created good,\nWhose very cause depends upon its beam.\"\n\n[1: The divine will.]\n\nAs on her nest the stork, that turns about\nUnto her young, whom lately she hath fed,\nWhiles they with upward eyes do look on her;\nSo lifted I my gaze; and, bending so,\nThe ever - blessed image waved its wings,\nLabouring with such deep counsel. Wheeling round\nIt warbled, and did say: \"As are my notes\nTo thee, who understand'st them not; such is\nThe eternal judgment unto mortal ken.\"\n\nThen still abiding in that ensign ranged,\nWherewith the Romans overawed the world,\nThose burning splendours of the Holy Spirit\nTook up the strain; and thus it spake again:\n\"None ever hath ascended to this realm,\nWho hath not a believer been in Christ,\nEither before or after the blest limbs\nWere nail'd upon the wood. But lo! of those\n\nWho call 'Christ, Christ,'[2] there shall be many found,\nIn judgment, further off from Him by far,\nThan such to whom His name was never known.\nChristians like these the Aethiop[3] shall condemn:\nWhen that the two assemblages shall part;\nOne rich eternally, the other poor.\n\n[2: \"Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into\nthe kingdom of heaven.\" - Matt. vii. 21.]\n\n[3: \"The Aethiop.\" \"The men of Nineveh shall rise in judgment with\nthis generation, and shall condemn it.\" - Matt. xii. 41.]\n\n\"What may the Persians say unto your kings,\nWhen they shall see that volume,[4] in the which\nAll their dispraise is written, spread to view?\nThere amidst Albert's[5] works shall that be read,\nWhich will give speedy motion to the pen,\nWhen Prague[6] shall mourn her desolated realm.\nThere shall be read the woe, that he[7] doth work\nWith his adulterate money on the Seine,\nWho by the tusk will perish; there be read\nThe thirsting pride, that maketh fool alike\nThe English and Scot,[8] impatient of their bound.\nThere shall be seen the Spaniard's luxury;[9]\nThe delicate living there of the Bohemian,[10]\nWho still to worth has been a willing stranger.\nThe halter of Jerusalem[11] shall see\nA unit for his virtue; for his vices,\nNo less a mark than million. He,[12] who guards\n\n[4: \"That volume.\" \"And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before\nGod; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book\nof life; and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in\nthe books, according to their works.\" - Rev. xx. 12.]\n\n[5: \"Albert.\" Purgatory, Canto vi. 98.]\n\n[6: \"Prague.\" The eagle predicts the devastation of Bohemia by\nAlbert, which happened soon after this time, when that Emperor obtained the\nkingdom for his eldest son Rodolph.]\n\n[7: \"He.\" Philip IV of France, after the battle of Courtrai, 1302, in\nwhich the French were defeated by the Flemings, raised the nominal value of\nthe coin. This King died in consequence of his horse being thrown to the\nground by a wild boar, in 1314.]\n\n[8: \"The English and Scot.\" He adverts to the disputes between John\nBaliol and Edward I, the latter of whom is commended in the Purgatory, Canto\nvii. 130.]\n\n[9: \"The Spaniard's luxury.\" It seems probable that the allusion is\nto Ferdinand IV, who came to the crown in 1295, and died in 1312, at the age\nof twenty - four, in consequence, as it was supposed, of his extreme\nintemperance.]\n\n[10: \"The Bohemian.\" Wenceslaus II. Purgatory, Canto vii. 99.]\n\n[11: \"The halter of Jerusalem.\" Charles II of Naples and Jerusalem,\nwho was lame.]\n\n[12: \"He.\" Frederick of Sicily, son of Peter III of Arragon.\nPurgatory, Canto vii. 117. The isle of fire is Sicily, where was the tomb of\nAnchises.]\n\nThe isle of fire by old Anchises honour'd,\nShall find his avarice there and cowardice;\nAnd better to denote his littleness,\nThe writing must be letters maim'd, that speak\nMuch in a narrow space. All there shall know\nHis uncle[13] and his brother's[14] filthy doings,\nWho so renown'd a nation and two crowns\nHave bastardized. And they, of Portugal[15]\nAnd Norway,[16] there shall be exposed, with him\nOf Ratza,[17] who hath counterfeited ill\nThe coin of Venice. O blest Hungary![18]\nIf thou no longer patiently abidest\nThy ill - entreating: and, O blest Navarre![19]\nIf with thy mountainous girdle[20] thou wouldst arm thee.\nIn earnest of that day, e'en now are heard\nWailings and groans in Famagosta's streets\nAnd Nicosia's,[21] grudging at their beast,\nWho keepeth even footing with the rest.\"\n\n[13: \"His uncle.\" James, King of Majorca and Minorca, brother to\nPeter III.]\n\n[14: \"His brother.\" James II of Arragon, who died in 1327. See\nPurgatory, Canto vii. 117.]\n\n[15: \"Of Portugal.\" In the time of Dante, Dionysius was King of\nPortugal. He died in 1325, after a reign of nearly forty - six years, and does\nnot seem to have deserved the stigma here fastened on him. Perhaps the\nrebellious son of Dionysius may be alluded to.]\n\n[16: \"Norway.\" Haquin, King of Norway, is probably meant; who having\ngiven refuge to the murderers of Eric VII, King of Denmark, A. D. 1288,\ncommenced a war against his successor, Eric VIII, \"which continued for nine\nyears, almost to the utter ruin and destruction of both kingdoms.\"]\n\n[17: \"_____ him Of Ratza.\" One of the dynasty of the house of\nNemagna, which ruled the Kingdom of Rassia or Ratza, in Sclavonia, from 1161\nto 1371, and whose history may be found in Mauro Orbino. Uladislaus appears to\nhave been the sovereign in Dante's time; but the disgraceful forgery, adverted\nto in the text, is not recorded by the historian.]\n\n[18: \"Hungary.\" The kingdom of Hungary was about this time disputed\nby Carobert, son of Charles Martel, and Wenceslaus, prince of Bohemia, son of\nWenceslaus II.]\n\n[19: \"Navarre.\" Navarre was now under the yoke of France. It soon\nafter (in 1328) followed the advice of Dante, and had a monarch of its own.]\n\n[20: \"Mountainous girdle.\" The Pyrenees.]\n\n[21: \"_____ Famagosta's streets And Nicosia's.\" Cities in the Kingdom\nof Cyprus, at that time ruled by Henry VII, a pusillanimous prince. The\nmeaning appears to be, that the complaints made by those cities of their weak\nand worthless governor may be regarded as an earnest of his condemnation at\nthe last doom.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 20\n\n\nCanto XX\n\nArgument\n\nThe eagle celebrates the praise of certain kings, whose glorified spirits\nform the eye of the bird. In the pupil is David; and, in the circle round it,\nTrajan, Hezekiah, Constantine, William II of Sicily, and Ripheus. It explains\nto our Poet how the souls of those whom he supposed to have had no means of\nbelieving in Christ, came to be in Heaven; and concludes with an admonition\nagainst presuming to fathom the counsels of God.\n\nWhen, disappearing from our hemisphere,\nThe world's enlightener vanishes, and day\nOn all sides wasteth; suddenly the sky,\nErewhile irradiate only with his beam,\nIs yet again unfolded, putting forth\nInnumerable lights wherein one shines.\nOf such vicissitude in Heaven I thought;\nAs the great sign,[1] that marshaleth the world\nAnd the world's leaders, in the blessed beak\nWas silent: for that all those living lights,\nWaxing in splendour, burst forth into songs,\nSuch as from memory glide and fall away.\n\n[1: The eagle, the imperial ensign.]\n\nSweet Love, that doth apparel thee in smiles!\nHow lustrous was thy semblance in those sparkles,\nWhich merely are from holy thoughts inspired.\n\nAfter[2] the precious and bright beaming stones,\nThat did ingem the sixth light, ceased the chiming\nOf their angelic bells; methought I heard\nThe murmuring of a river, that doth fall\nFrom rock to rock transpicuous, making known\nThe richness of his spring - head: and as sound\nOf cittern, at the fret - board, or of pipe,\nIs, at the wind - hole, modulate and tuned;\nThus up the neck, as it were hollow, rose\nThat murmuring of the eagle; and forthwith\nVoice there assumed; and thence along the beak\nIssued in form of words, such as my heart\nDid look for, on whose tables I inscribed them.\n\n[2: \"After.\" \"After the spirits in the sixth planet (Jupiter) had\nceased their singing.\"]\n\n\"The part in me, that sees and bears the sun\nIn mortal eagles,\" it began, \"must now\nBe noted steadfastly: for, of the fires\nThat figure me, those, glittering in mine eye,\nAre chief of all the greatest. This, that shines\nMidmost for pupil, was the same who[3] sang\nThe Holy Spirit's song, and bare about\nThe ark from town to town: now doth he know\nThe merit of his soul - impassion'd strains\nBy their well - fitted guerdon. Of the five,\nThat make the circle of the vision, he,[4]\nWho to the beak is nearest, comforted\nThe widow for her son: now doth he know,\nHow dear it costeth not to follow Christ;\nBoth from experience of this pleasant life,\nAnd of its opposite. He next,[5] who follows\nIn the circumference, for the over - arch,\nBy true repenting slack'd the pace of death:\nNow knoweth he, that the decrees of Heaven[6]\nAlter not, when, through pious prayer below,\nTo - day is made to - morrow's destiny.\nThe other following,[7] with the laws and me,\nTo yield the Shepherd room, pass'd o'er[8] to Greece;\nFrom good intent, producing evil fruit:\nNow knoweth he, how all the ill, derived\nFrom his well doing, doth not harm him aught;\nThough it have brought destruction on the world.\nThat, which thou seest in the under bow,\nWas William,[9] whom that land bewails, which weeps\nFor Charles and Frederick living: now he knows,\nHow well is loved in Heaven the righteous king;\nWhich he betokens by his radiant seeming.\nWho, in the erring world beneath, would deem\n\n[3: \"Who.\" David.]\n\n[4: \"Trajan. See Purgatory, x. 68.]\n\n[5: \"He next.\" Hezekiah.]\n\n[6: The eternal counsels of God are indeed ummutable, though they\nappear to us men to be altered by the prayers of the pious.]\n\n[7: Constantine. No passage in which Dante's opinion of the evil that\nhad arisen from the mixture of the civil with the ecclesiastical power is more\nunequivocally declared.]\n\n[8: Left the Roman State to the Pope, and transferred the seat of the\nempire to Constantinople.]\n\n[9: William II, called \"the Good,\" King of Sicily, at the latter part\nof the twelfth century. He was of the Norman line of sovereigns. His loss was\nas much the subject of regret in his dominions, as the presence of Charles II\nof Anjou, and Frederick of Arragon, was of sorrow.]\n\nThat Trojan Ripheus,[10] in this round, was set,\nFifth of the saintly splendours? now he knows\nEnough of that, which the world cannot see;\nThe grace divine: albeit e'en his sight\nReach not its utmost depth.\" Like to the lark,\nThat warbling in the air expatiates long,\nThen, trilling out his last sweet melody,\nDrops, satiate with the sweetness; such appear'd\nThat image, stampt by the everlasting pleasure,\nWhich fashions, as they are, all things that be.\n\n[10: \"Then Ripheus fell, the justest far of all the sons of Troy.\" -\nVirgil, Aeneid. lib. ii. 427.]\n\nI, though my doubting were as manifest,\nAs is through glass the hue that mantles it,\nIn silence waited not; for to my lips\n\"What things are these?\" involuntary rush'd,\nAnd forced a passage out: whereat I mark'd\nA sudden lightening and new revelry.\nThe eye was kindled; and the blessed sign,\nNo more to keep me wondering and suspense,\nReplied: \"I see that thou believest these things,\nBecause I tell them, but discern'st not how;\nSo that thy knowledge waits not on thy faith:\nAs one, who knows the name of thing by rote,\nBut is a stranger to its properties,\nTill other's tongue reveal them. Fervent love,\nAnd lively hope, with violence assail\nThe Kingdom of the Heavens, and overcome\nThe will of the Most High; not in such sort\nAs man prevails o'er man; but conquers it,\nBecause 'tis willing to be conquer'd; still,\nThough conquer'd, by its mercy, conquering.\n\n\"Those, in the eye who live the first and fifth,\nCause thee to marvel, in that thou behold'st\nThe region of the Angels deck'd with them.\nThey quitted not their bodies, as thou deem'st,\nGentiles, but Christians; in firm rooted faith,\nThis,[11] of the feet in future to be pierced,\nThat,[12] of feet nail'd already to the Cross.\n\n[11: \"This.\" Ripheus.]\n\n[12: \"That.\" Trajan.]\n\nOne from the barrier of the dark abyss,\nWhere never any with good will returns,\nCame back unto his bones. Of lively hope\nSuch was the meed; of lively hope, that wing'd\nThe prayers[13] sent up to God for his release,\nAnd put power into them to bend his will.\nThe glorious Spirit, of whom I speak to thee;\nA little while returning to the flesh,\nBelieved in Him, who had the means to help;\nAnd, in believing, nourish'd such a flame\nOf holy love, that at the second death\nHe was made sharer in our gamesome mirth.\nThe other, through the riches of that grace,\nWhich from so deep a fountain doth distil,\nAs never eye created saw its rising,\nPlaced all his love below on just and right:\nWherefore, of grace, God oped in him the eye\nTo the redemption of mankind to come;\nWherein believing, he endured no more\nThe filth of Paganism, and for their ways\nRebuked the stubborn nations. The three nymphs,[14]\nWhom at the right wheel thou beheld'st advancing,\nWere sponsors for him, more than thousand years\nBefore baptizing. O how far removed,\nPredestination! is thy root from such\nAs see not the First Cause entire: and ye,\nO mortal men! be wary how ye judge:\nFor we, who see our Maker, know not yet\nThe number of the chosen; and esteem\nSuch scantiness of knowledge our delight:\nFor all our good is, in that Primal Good,\nConcentrate; and God's will and ours are one.\"\n\n[13: The prayers of St. Gregory.]\n\n[14: \"The three nymphs.\" Faith, Hope, and Charity. Purgatory, Canto\nxxix. 116.]\n\nSo, by that form divine, was given to me\nSweet medicine to clear and strengthen sight.\nAnd, as one handling skilfully the harp,\nAttendant on some skilful songster's voice\nBids the chord vibrate; and therein the song\nAcquires more pleasure: so the whilst it spake.\n\nIt doth remember me, that I beheld\nThe pair[15] of blessed luminaries move,\nLike the accordant twinkling of two eyes,\nTheir beamy circlets, dancing to the sounds.\n\n[15: Ripheus and Trajan.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 21\n\n\nCanto XXI\n\nArgument\n\nDante ascends with Beatrice to the seventh heaven, which is the planet\nSaturn; wherein is placed a ladder, so lofty, that the top of it is out of his\nsight. Here are the souls of those who had passed their life in holy\nretirement and contemplation. Piero Damiano comes near them, and answers\nquestions put to him by Dante; then declares who he was on earth; and ends by\ndeclaiming against the luxury of pastors and prelates in those times.\n\nAgain mine eyes were fix'd on Beatrice;\nAnd, with mine eyes, my soul that in her looks\nFound all contentment. Yet no smile she wore:\nAnd, \"Did I smile,\" quoth she, \"thou wouldst be straight\nLike Semele when into ashes turn'd;\nFor, mounting these eternal palace - stairs,\nMy beauty, which the loftier it climbs,\nAs thou hast noted, still doth kindle more,\nSo shines, that, were no tempering interposed,\nThy mortal puissance would from its rays\nShrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt.\nInto the seventh splendour[1] are we wafted,\nThat, underneath the burning lion's breast,[2]\nBeams, in this hour, commingled with his might.\nThy mind be with thine eyes; and, in them, mirror'd[3]\nThe shape, which in this mirror shall be shown.\"\n\n[1: The planet Saturn.]\n\n[2: The constellation Leo.]\n\n[3: \"In them, mirror'd.\" \"Let the form which thou shalt now behold in\nthis mirror,\" the planet, that is, of Saturn (soon after, v. 22, called the\ncrystal), \"be reflected in the mirror of thy sight.\")]\n\nWhoso can deem, how fondly I had fed\nMy sight upon her blissful countenance,\nMay know, when to new thoughts I changed, what joy\nTo do the bidding of my heavenly guide;\nIn equal balance,[4] poising either weight.\n\n[4: \"My pleasure was as great in complying with her will, as in\nbeholding her countenance.\"]\n\nWithin the crystal, which records the name\n(As its remoter circle girds the world)\nOf that loved monarch,[5] in whose happy reign\nNo ill had power to harm, I saw rear'd up,\nIn colour like to sun - illumined gold,\nA ladder, which my ken pursued in vain,\nSo lofty was the summit; down whose steps\nI saw the splendours in such multitude\nDescending, every light in Heaven, methought,\nWas shed thence. As the rooks, at dawn of day,\nBestirring them to dry their feathers chill,\nSome speed their way a - field; and homeward some,\nReturning, cross their flight; while some abide,\nAnd wheel around their airy lodge: so seem'd\nThat glitterance,[6] wafted on alternate wing,\nAs upon certain stair it came, and clash'd\nIts shining. And one, lingering near us, wax'd\nSo bright, that in my thought I said: \"The love,\nWhich this betokens me, admits no doubt.\"\n\n[5: Saturn. Compare Hell, Canto xiv. 91.]\n\n[6: That multitude of shining spirits, who, coming to a certain point\nof the ladder, made those different movements, as of birds.]\n\nUnwillingly from question I refrain;\nTo her, by whom my silence and my speech\nAre order'd, looking for a sign: whence she,\nWho in the sight of Him, that seeth all,\nSaw wherefore I was silent, prompted me\nTo indulge the fervent wish; and I began:\n\"I am not worthy, of my own desert,\nThat thou shouldst answer me: but for her sake,\nWho hath vouchsafed my asking, spirit blest,\nThat in thy joy art shrouded! say the cause,\nWhich bringeth thee so near: and wherefore, say,\nDoth the sweet symphony of Paradise\nKeep silence here, pervading with such sounds\nOf rapt devotion every lower sphere?\"\n\"Mortal art thou in hearing, as in sight;\"\nWas the reply: \"and what forbade the smile[7]\nOf Beatrice interrupts our song.\nOnly to yield thee gladness of my voice,\nAnd of the light that vests me, I thus far\nDescend these hallow'd steps; not that more love\n\n[7: Because it would have overcome thee.]\n\nInvites me; for, lo! there aloft,[8] as much\nOr more of love is witness'd in those flames:\nBut such my lot by charity assign'd,\nThat makes us ready servants, as thou seest,\nTo execute the counsel of the Highest.\"\n\n[8: \"There aloft.\" Where the other souls were.]\n\n\"That in this court,\" said I, \"O sacred lamp!\nLove no compulsion needs, but follows free\nThe eternal Providence, I well discern:\nThis harder find to deem: why, of thy peers,\nThou only, to this office wert foredoom'd.\"\n\nI had not ended, when, like rapid mill,\nUpon its centre whirl'd the light; and then\nThe love that did inhabit there, replied:\n\"Splendour eternal, piercing through these folds,\nIts virtue to my vision knits; and thus\nSupported, lifts me so above myself,\nThat on the sovran Essence, which it wells from,\nI have the power to gaze: and hence the joy,\nWherewith I sparkle, equaling with my blaze\nThe keenness of my sight. But not the soul,[9]\nThat is in Heaven most lustrous, nor the Seraph,\nThat hath his eyes most fix'd on God, shall solve\nWhat thou hast ask'd: for in the abyss it lies\nOf th' everlasting statute sunks so low,\nThat no created ken may fathom it.\nAnd, to the mortal world when thou return'st,\nBe this reported: that none henceforth dare\nDirect his footsteps to so dread a bourn.\nThe mind, that here is radiant, on the earth\nIs wrapt in mist. Look then if she may do\nBelow, what passeth her ability\nWhen she is ta'en to Heaven.\" By words like these\nAdmonish'd, I the question urged no more;\nAnd of the spirit humbly sued alone\nTo instruct me of its state. \"'Twixt either shore[10]\nOf Italy, nor distant from thy land,\nA stony ridge[11] ariseth; in such sort,\n\n[9: \"Not the soul.\" The particular ends of Providence being concealed\nfrom the very Angels themselves.]\n\n[10: Between the Adriatic Gulf and the Mediterranean Sea.]\n\n[11: A part of the Apennines.]\n\nThe thunder doth not lift his voice so high.\nThey call it Catria:[12] at whose foot, a cell\nIs sacred to the lonely Eremite;\nFor worship set apart and holy rites.\"\nA third time thus it spake; then added: \"There\nSo firmly to God's service I adhered,\nThat with no costlier viands than the juice\nOf olives, easily I pass'd the heats\nOf summer and the winter frosts; content\nIn heaven - ward musings. Rich were the returns\nAnd fertile, which that cloister once was used\nTo render to these Heavens: now 'tis fallen\nInto a waste so empty, that ere long\nDetection must lay bare its vanity.\nPietro Damiano[13] there was I y - clept:\nPietro the sinner, when before I dwelt,\nBeside the Adriatic,[14] in the house\nOf our blest Lady. Near upon my close\nOf mortal life, through much importuning\nI was constrain'd to weat the hat,[15] that still\nFrom bad to worse is shifted. - Cephas[16] came:\nHe came, who was the Holy Spirit's vessel;[17]\nBarefoot and lean; eating their bread, as chanced,\nAt the first table. Modern Shepherds need\n\n[12: Now the Abbey of Santa Croce, in the Duchy of Urbino, about half\nway between Gubbio and La Pergola. Here Dante is said to have resided for some\ntime.]\n\n[13: \"Pietro Damiano.\" \"S. Pietro Damiano obtained a great and well -\nmerited reputation by the pains he took to correct the abuses among the\nclergy. Ravenna is supposed to have been the place of his birth, about 1007.\nHe was employed in several important missions, and rewarded by Stephen IX with\nthe dignity of cardinal, and the bishopric of Ostia, to which, however, he\npreferred his former retreat in the monastery of Fonte Avellana, and prevailed\non Alexander II to permit him to retire thither. Yet he did not long continue\nin this seclusion, before he was sent on other embassies. He died at Faenza in\n1072. His letters throw much light on the obscure history of these times.\nBesides them, he has left several treatises on sacred and ecclesiastical\nsubjects. His eloquence is worthy of a better age.\" Tiraboschi, Storia della\nLett. Ital.]\n\n[14: Some editions and manuscripts have \"fu,\" instead of \"fui.\"\nAccording to the former of these readings, S. Pietro Damiano is made to\ndistinguish himself from S. Pietro degli Onesti, surnamed \"Il Peccator,\"\nfounder of the monastery of S. Maria del Porto, on the Adriatic coast, near\nRavenna, who died in 1119, at about eighty years of age.]\n\n[15: \"The hat.\" The cardinal's hat.]\n\n[16: \"Cephas.\" St. Peter.]\n\n[17: St. Paul. See Hell, Canto ii. 30.]\n\nThose who on either hand may prop and lead them,\nSo burly are they grown; and from behind,\nOthers to hoist them. Down the palfrey's sides\nSpread their broad mantles, so as both the beasts\nAre cover'd with one skin. O patience! thou\nThat look'st on this, and dost endure so long.\"\n\nI at those accents saw the splendours down\nFrom step to step alight, and wheel, and wax,\nEach circuiting, more beautiful. Round this[18]\nThey came, and stay'd them; utter'd then a shout\nSo loud, it hath no likeness here: nor I\nWist what it spake, so deafening was the thunder.\n\n[18: \"Round this.\" Round the spirit of Pietro Damiano.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 22\n\n\nCanto XXII\n\nArgument\n\nHe beholds many other spirits of the devout and contemplative; and among\nthese is addressed by St. Benedict, who, after disclosing his own name and the\nnames of certain of his companions in bliss, replies to the request made by\nour Poet that he might look on the form of the saint, without that covering of\nsplendor, which then invested it; and then proceeds, lastly, to inveigh\nagainst the corruption of the monks. Next Dante mounts with his heavenly\nconductress to the eighth heaven, or that of the fixed stars, which he enters\nat the constellation of the Twins; and thence looking back, reviews all the\nspace he has passed between his present station and the earth.\n\nAstounded, to the guardian of my steps\nI turn'd me, like the child, who always runs\nThither for succour, where he trusteth most:\nAnd she was like the mother, who her son\nBeholding pale and breathless, with her voice\nSoothes him, and he is cheer'd; for thus she spake,\nSoothing me: \"Know'st not thou, thou art in Heaven?\nAnd know'st not thou, whatever is in Heaven,\nIs holy; and that nothing there is done,\nBut is done zealously and well? Deem now,\nWhat change in thee the song, and what my smile\nHad wrought, since thus the shout had power to move thee;\nIn which, couldst thou have understood their prayers,\nThe vengeance[1] were already known to thee,\nWhich thou must witness ere thy mortal hour.\n\n[1: \"The vengeance.\" Beatrice, it is supposed, intimates the\napproaching fate of Boniface VIII. See Purgatory, Canto xx. 86.]\n\nThe sword of Heaven is not in haste to smite,\nNor yet doth linger; save unto his seeming,\nWho, in desire or fear, doth look for it.\nBut elsewhere now I bid thee turn thy view;\nSo shalt thou many a famous spirit behold.\"\n\nMine eyes directing, as she will'd, I saw\nA hundred little spheres, that fairer grew\nBy interchange of splendour. I remain'd,\nAs one, who fearful of o'er - much presuming,\nAbates in him the keenness of desire,\nNor dares to question; when, amid those pearls,\nOne largest and most lustrous onward drew,\nThat it might yield contentment to my wish;\nAnd, from within it, these the sounds I heard.\n\n\"If thou, like me, beheld'st the charity\nThat burns amongst us; what thy mind conceives\nWere utter'd. But that, ere the lofty bound\nThou reach, expectance may not weary thee;\nI will make answer even to the thought,\nWhich thou hast such respect of. In old days,\nThat mountain, at whose sidehCassino[2] rests,\nWas, on its height, frequented by a race\nDeceived and ill - disposed: and I it was,[3]\nWho thither carried first the name of Him,\nWho brought the soul - subliming truth to man.\nAnd such a speeding grace shone over me,\nThat from their impious worship I reclaim'd\nThe dwellers round about, who with the world\nWere in delusion lost. These other flames,\nThe spirits of men contemplative, were all\nEnliven'd by that warmth, whose kindly force\nGives birth to flowers and fruits of holiness.\nHere is Macarius;[4] Romoaldo[5] here;\n\n[2: A castle in the Terra di Lavoro.]\n\n[3: \"A new order of monks, which in a manner absorbed all the others\nthat were established in the west, was instituted, 529, by Benedict of Nursia,\na man of piety and reputation for the age he lived in.\" Maclaine's Mosheim,\nEccles. Hist.]\n\n[4: \"Macarius, an Egyptian monk, deserves the first rank among the\npractical writers of the fourth century, as his works displayed, some few\nthings excepted, the brightest and most lovely portraiture of sanctity and\nvirtue.\" Ibid.]\n\n[5: S. Romoaldo, a native of Ravenna, and the founder of the order of\nCamaldoli, died in 1027. He was the author of a commentary on the Psalms.]\n\nAnd here my brethren, who their steps refrain'd\nWithin the cloisters, and held firm their heart.\"\n\nI answering thus: \"Thy gentle words and kind,\nAnd this the cheerful semblance I behold,\nNot unobservant, beaming in ye all,\nHave raised assurance in me; wakening it\nFull - blossom'd in my bosom, as a rose\nBefore the sun, when the consummate flower\nHas spread to utmost amplitude. Of thee\nTherefore intreat I, father, to declare\nIf I may gain such favour, as to gaze\nUpon thine image by no covering veil'd.\"\n\n\"Brother!\" he thus rejoin'd, \"in the last sphere[6]\nExpect completion of thy lofty aim:\nFor there on each desire completion waits,\nAnd there on mine; where every aim is found\nPerfect, entire, and for fulfillment ripe.\nThere all things are as they have ever been:\nFor space is none to bound; nor pole divides.\nOur ladder reaches even to that clime;\nAnd so, at giddy distance, mocks thy view.\nThither the patriarch Jacob[7] saw it stretch\nIts topmost round; when it appear'd to him\nWith Angels laden. But to mount it now\nNone lifts his foot from earth: and hence my rule\nIs left a profitless stain upon the leaves;\nThe walls, for abbey rear'd, turn'd into dens;\nThe cowls, to sacks choak'd up with musty meal.\nFoul usury doth not more lift itself\nAgainst God's pleasure, than that fruit, which makes,\nThe hearts of monks so wanton: for whate'er\nIs in the Church's keeping, all pertains\nTo such, as sue for Heaven's sweet sake; and not\nTo those, who in respect of kindred claim,\nOr on more vile allowance. Mortal flesh\n\n[6: \"In the last sphere.\" The Empyrean, where he afterward sees St.\nBenedict, Canto xxxii. 30. Beatified spirits, though they have different\nheavens allotted them, have all their seats in that higher sphere.]\n\n[7: \"The patriarch Jacob.\" \"And he dreamed, and behold, a ladder set\nupon the earth, and the top of it reached to heaven: and behold the angels of\nGod ascending and descending on it.\" - Gen. xxviii. 12.]\n\nIs grown so dainty, good beginnings last not\nFrom the oak's birth unto the acorn's setting.\nHis convent Peter founded without gold\nOr silver; I, with prayers and fasting, mine;\nAnd Francis, his in meek humility.\nAnd if thou note the point, whence each proceeds,\nThen look what it hath err'd to; thou shalt find\nThe white grown murky. Jordan was turn'd back:\nAnd a less wonder, than the refluent sea,\nMay, at God's pleasure, work amendment here.\"\n\nSo saying, to his assembly back he drew:\nAnd they together cluster'd into one;\nThen all roll'd upward, like an eddying wind.\n\nThe sweet dame beckon'd me to follow them:\nAnd, by that influence only, so prevail'd\nOver my nature, that no natural motion,\nAscending or descending here below,\nHad, as I mounted, with my pennon vied.\n\nSo, reader, as my hope is eo return\nUnto the holy triumph, for the which\nI oft - times wail my sins, and smite my breast;\nThou hadst been longer drawing out and thrusting\nThy finger in the fire, than I was, ere\nThe sign,[8] that followeth Taurus, I beheld,\nAnd enter'd its precinct. O glorious stars!\nO light impregnate with exceeding virtue!\nTo whom whate'er of genius lifteth me\nAbove the vulgar, grateful I refer;\nWith ye the parent[9] of all mortal life\nArose and set, when I did first inhale\nThe Tuscan air; and afterward, when grace\nVouchsafed me entrance to the lofty wheel[10]\nThat in its orb impels ye, fate decreed\nMy passage at your clime. To you my soul\nDevoutly sighs, for virtue, even now,\nTo meet the hard emprise that draws me on.\n\n[8: \"The sign.\" The constellation of Gemini.]\n\n[9: \"The parent.\" The sun was in the constellation of the Twins at\nthe time of Dante's birth.]\n\n[10: \"The lofty wheel.\" The eighth heaven; that of the fixed stars.]\n\n\"Thou art so near the sum of blessedness,\"\nSaid Beatrice, \"that behoves thy ken\nBe vigilant and clear. And, to this end,\nOr ever thou advance thee further, hence\nLook downward, and contemplate, what a world\nAlready stretch'd under our feet there lies:\nSo as thy heart may, in its blithest mood,\nPresent itself to the triumphal throng,\nWhich, through the ethereal concave, comes rejoicing.\"\n\nI straight obey'd; and with mine eye return'd\nThrough all the seven spheres; and saw this globe\nSo pitiful of semblance, that perforce\nIt moved my smiles: and him in truth I hold\nFor wisest, who esteems it least; whose thoughts\nElsewhere are fix'd, him worthiest call and best.\nI saw the daughter of Latona shine\nWithout the shadow,[11] whereof late I deem'd\nThat dense and rare were cause. Here I sustain'd\nThe visage, Hyperion, of thy son;[12]\nAnd mark'd, how near him with their circles, round\nMove Maia and Dione;[13] here discern'd\nJove's tempering 'twixt his sire and son;[14] and hence,\nTheir changes and their various aspects,\nDistinctly scann'd. Nor might I not descry\nOf all the seven, how bulky each, how swift;\nNor, of their several distances, not learn.\nThis petty area, (o'er the which we stride\nSo fiercely), as along the eternal Twins\nI wound my way, appear'd before me all,\nForth from the havens stretch'd unto the hills.\nThen, to the beauteous eyes, mine eyes return'd.\n\n[11: \"Without the shadow.\" See Canto ii. 71.]\n\n[12: \"Of thy son.\" The sun.]\n\n[13: \"Maia and Dione.\" The planets Mercury and Venus, Dione being the\nmother of the latter, and Maia of the former deity.]\n\n[14: \"'Twixt his sire and son.\" Betwixt Saturn and Mars.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 23\n\n\nCanto XXIII\n\nArgument\n\nHe sees Christ triumphing with his Church. The Saviour ascends followed\nby his Virgin Mother. The others remain with St. Peter.\n\nE'en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower\nHas, in her nest, sat darkling through the night,\nWith her sweet brood; impatient to descry\nTheir wished looks, and to bring home their food,\nIn the fond quest unconscious of her toil:\nShe, of the time prevenient, on the spray,\nThat overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze\nExpects the sun; nor ever, till the dawn,\nRemoveth from the east her eager ken:\nSo stood the dame erect, and bent her glance\nWistfully on that region,[1] where the sun\nAbateth most his speed; that, seeing her\nSuspense and wondering, I became as one,\nIn whom desire is waken'd, and the hope\nOf somewhat new to come fills with delight.\n\n[1: \"That region.\" Toward the south, where the course of the sun\nappears less rapid, than when he is in the east or the west.]\n\nShort space ensued; I was not held, I say,\nLong in expectance, when I saw the Heaven\nWax more and more resplendent; and, \"Behold,\"\nCried Beatrice, \"the triumphal hosts\nOf Christ, and all the harvest gather'd in,\nMade ripe by these revolving spheres.\" Meseem'd,\nThat, while she spake, her image all did burn;\nAnd in her eyes such fulness was of joy,\nAs I am fain to pass unconstrued by.\n\nAs in the calm full moon, when Trivia[2] smiles,\nIn peerless beauty, 'mid the eternal nymphs,[3]\nThat paint through all its gulfs the blue profound;\nIn bright pre - eminence so saw I there\nO'er million lamps a Sun, from whom all drew\nTheir radiance, as from ours the starry train:\nAnd, through the living light, so lustrous glow'd\nThe substance, that my ken endured it not.\n\n[2: \"Trivia.\" A name of Diana.]\n\n[3: \"The eternal nymphs.\" The stars. Those starry nymphs which dance\nabout the pole. Drummond Sonnet.]\n\nO Beatrice! sweet and precious guide,\nWho cheer'd me with her comfortable words:\n\"Against the virtue, that o'erpowereth thee,\nAvails not to resist. Here is the Might,[4]\nAnd here the Wisdom, which did open lay\nThe path, that had been yearned for so long,\nBetwixt the Heaven and earth.\" Like to the fire,\nThat, in a cloud imprison'd, doth break out\nExpansive, so that from its womb enlarged,\nIt falleth against nature to the ground;\nThus, in that heavenly banqueting, my soul\nOutgrew herself; and, in the transport lost,\nHolds now remembrance none of what she was.\n\n[4: \"The Might.\" Our Saviour.]\n\n\"Ope thou thine eyes, and mark me: thou hast seen\nThings, that empower thee to sustain my smile.\"\n\nI was as one, when a forgotten dream\nDoth come across him, and he strives in vain\nTo shape it in his fantasy again:\nWhenas that gracious boon was proffer'd me,\nWhich never may be cancel'd from the book\nWherein the past is written. Now were all\nThose tongues to sound, that have, on sweetest milk\nOf Polyhymnia and her sisters, fed\nAnd fatten'd; not with all their help to boot,\nUnto the thousandth parcel of the truth,\nMy song might shadow forth that saintly smile,\nHow merely, in her saintly looks, it wrought.\nAnd, with such figuring of Paradise,\nThe sacred strain must leap, like one that meets\nA sudden interruption to his road.\nBut he, who thinks how ponderous the theme,\nAnd that 'tis laid upon a mortal shoulder,\nMay pardon, if it tremble with the burden.\nThe track, our venturous keel must furrow, brooks\nNo unribb'd pinnace, no self - sparing pilot.\n\n\"Why doth my face,\" said Beatrice, \"thus\nEnamour thee, as that thou dost not turn\nUnto the beautiful garden, blossoming\n\nBeneath the rays of Christ? Here is the Rose,[5]\nWherein the Word Divine was made incarnate;\nAnd here the lilies,..[6] by whose odour known\nThe way of life was follow'd.\" Prompt I heard\nHer bidding, and encounter'd once again\nThe strife of aching vision. As, erewhile, [cloud,\nThrough glance of sun - light, stream'd through broken\nMine eyes a flower - besprinkled mead have seen;\nThough veil'd themselves in shade: so saw I there\nLegions of splendours, on whom burning rays\nShed lightnings from above; yet saw I not\nThe fountain whence they flow'd. O gracious Virtue\nThou, whose broad stamp is on them, higher up\nThou didst exalt Thy glory,[7] to give room\nTo my o'erlabour'd sight; when at the name\nOf that fair flower,[8] whom duly I invoke\nBoth morn and eve, my soul with all her might\nCollected, on the goodliest ardour fix'd.\nAnd, as the bright dimensions of the star\nIn Heaven excelling, as once here on earth,\nWere, in my eye - balls livelily pourtray'd;\nLo! from within the sky a cresset[9] fell,\nCircling in fashion of a diadem;\nAnd girt the star; and, hovering, round it wheel'd.\n\n[5: \"The rose.\" The Virgin Mary, who is termed by the Church, \"Rosa\nMystica.\" \"I was exalted like a palm - tree in Engaddi, and as a rose - plant\nin Jericho.\" - Ecclesiasticus, xxiv. 14.]\n\n[6: \"The lilies.\" The Apostles. \"And give ye a sweet savour as\nfrankincense, and flourish as a lily.\" - Ecclesiasticus, xxxix. 14.]\n\n[7: \"Thou didst exalt thy glory.\" The divine light retired upward, to\nrender the eyes of Dante more capable of enduring the spectacle which now\npresented itself.]\n\n[8: \"_____ the name Of that fair flower.\" The name of the Virgin.]\n\n[9: \"A cresset.\" The angel Gabriel.]\n\nWhatever melody sounds sweetest here,\nAnd draws the spirit most onto itself,\nMight seem a rent cloud, when it grates the thunder;\nCompared unto the sounding of that lyre,[10]\nWherewith the goodliest sapphire,[11] that inlays\nThe floor of Heaven was crown'd. \"Angelic Love\nI am, who thus with hovering flight enwheel\nThe lofty rapture from that womb inspired,\nWhere our desire did dwell: and round thee so,\nLady of Heaven! will hover; long as thou\nThy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy\nShall from thy presence gild the highest sphere.\"\n\n[10: \"That lyre.\" By synecdoche, the lyre is put for the angel.]\n\n[11: The Virgin.]\n\nSuch close was to the circling melody:\nAnd, as it ended, all the other lights\nTook up the strain, and echoed Mary's name.\n\nThe robe,[12] that with its regal folds enwraps\nThe world, and with the nearer breath of God\nDoth burn and quiver, held so far retired\nIts inner hem and skirting over us,\nThat yet no glimmer of its majesty\nHad stream'd unto me: therefore were mine eyes\nUnequal to pursue the crowned flame,[13]\nThat towering rose, and sought the seed[14] it bore.\nAnd like to babe, that stretches forth its arms\nFor every eagerness toward the breast,\nAfter the milk is taken; so outstretch'd\nTheir wavy summits all the fervent band,\nThrough zealous love to Mary: then, in view,\nThere halted; and \"Regina Coeli\"[15] sang\nSo sweetly, the delight hath left me never.\n\n[12: \"The robe.\" The ninth heaven, the primum mobile, that enfolds\nand moves the eight lower heavens.]\n\n[13: \"The crowned flame.\" The Virgin, with the angel hovering over\nher.]\n\n[14: \"The seed.\" Our Saviour.]\n\n[15: \"Regina Coeli.\" \"The beginning of an anthem, sung by the Church\nat Easter, in honor of Our Lady.\"]\n\nOh! what o'erflowing plenty is up - piled\nIn those rich - laden coffers,[16] which below\nSow'd the good seed, whose harvest now they keep.\nHere are the treasures tasted, that with tears\nWere in the Babylonian exile[17] won,\nWhen gold had fail'd them. Here, in synod high\nOf ancient council with the new convened,\nUnder the Son of Mary and of God,\nVictorious he[18] his mighty triumph holds,\nTo whom the keys of glory were assign'd.\n\n[16: \"Those rich - laden coffers.\" Those spirits, who, having sown\nthe seed of good works on earth, now contain the fruit of their pious\nendeavors.]\n\n[17: \"In the Babylonian exile.\" During their abode in this world.]\n\n[18: \"He.\" St. Peter, with the other holy men of the Old and New\nTestaments.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 24\n\n\nCanto XXIV\n\nArgument\n\nSt. Peter examines Dante touching Faith, and is contented with his\nanswers.\n\n\"O Ye! in chosen fellowship advanced\nTo the great supper of the blessed Lamb,\nWhereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill'd;\nIf to this man through God's grace be vouchsafed\nForetaste of that, which from your table falls,\nOr ever death his fated term prescribe;\nBe ye not heedless of his urgent will:\nBut may some influence of your sacred dews\nSprinkle him. Of the fount ye always drink,\nWhence flows what most he craves.\" Beatrice spake;\nAnd the rejoicing spirits, like to spheres\nOn firm - set poles revolving, trail'd a blaze\nOf comet splendour: and as wheels, that wind\nTheir circles in the horologe, so work\nThe stated rounds, that to the observant eye\nThe first seems still, and as it flew, the last;\nE'en thus their carols weaving variously,\nThey, by the measure paced, or swift, or slow,\nMade me to rate the riches of their joy.\n\nFrom that, which I did note in beauty most\nExcelling, saw I issue forth a flame\nSo bright, as none was left more goodly there.\nRound Beatrice thrice it wheel'd about,\nWith so divine a song, that fancy's ear\nRecords it not; and the pen passeth on,\nAnd leaves a blank: for that our mortal speech,\nNor e'en the inward shaping of the brain,\nHath colours fine enough to trace such folds.\n\n\"O saintly sister mine! thy prayer devout\nIs with so vehement affection urged,\nThou dost unbind me from that beauteous sphere.\"\n\nSuch were the accents towards my lady breathed\nFrom that blest ardour, soon as it was stay'd;\nTo whom she thus: \"O everlasting light\nOf him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord\nDid leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss\nHe bare below! tent this man as thou wilt,\nWith lighter probe or deep, touching the faith,\nBy the which thou didst on the billows walk.\nIf he in love, in hope, and in belief,\nBe steadfast, is not hid from thee: for thou\nHast there thy ken, where all things are beheld\nIn liveliest portraiture. But since true faith\nHas peopled this fair realm with citizens;\nMeet is, that to exalt its glory more,\nThou, in his audience, shouldst thereof discourse.\"\n\nLike to the bachelor, who arms himself,\nAnd speaks not, till the master have proposed\nThe question, to approve, and not to end it;\nSo I, in silence, arm'd me, while she spake,\nSummoning up each argument to aid;\nAs was behoveful for such questioner,\nAnd such profession: \"As good Christian ought,\nDeclare thee, what is faith?\" Whereat I raised\nMy forehead to the light, whence this had breathed;\nThen turn'd to Beatrice; and in her looks\nApproval met, that from their inmost fount\nI should unlock the waters. \"May the grace,\nThat giveth me the captain of the Church\nFor confessor,\" said I, \"vouchsafe to me\nApt utterance for my thoughts;\" then added: \"Sire!\nE'en as set down by the unerring style\nOf thy dear brother, who with thee conspired\nTo bring Rome in unto the way of life,\nFaith of things hoped is substance, and the proof\nOf things not see; and herein doth consist\nMethinks its essence.\" - \"Rightly hast thou deem'd,\"\nWas answer'd; \"if thou well discern, why first\nHe hath defined it substance, and then proof.\"\n\n\"The deep things,\" I replied, \"which here I scan\nDistinctly, are below from mortal eye\nSo hidden, they have in belief alone\nTheir being; on which credence, hope sublime\nIs built: and, therefore substance, it intends.\nAnd inasmuch as we must needs infer\nFrom such belief our reasoning, all respect\nTo other view excluded; hence of proof\nThe intention is derived.\" Forthwith I heard:\n\"If thus, whate'er by learning men attain,\nWere understood; the sophist would want room\nTo exercise his wit.\" So breathed the flame\nOf love; then added: \"Current is the coin\nThou utter'st, both in weight and in alloy.\nBut tell me, if thou hast it in thy purse.\"\n\n\"Even so glittering and so round,\" said I,\n\"I not a whit misdoubt of its assay.\"\nNext issued from the deep - imbosom'd splendour:\n\"Say, whence the costly jewel, on the which\nIs founded every virtue, came to thee.\"\n\n\"The flood,\" I answer'd, \"from the Spirit of God\nRain'd down upon the ancient bond and new,[1] -\nHere is the reasoning that convinceth me\nSo feelingly, each argument beside\nSeems blunt and forceless in comparison.\"\nThen heard I: \"Wherefore holdest thou that each,\nThe elder proposition and the new,\nWhich so persuade thee, are the voice of Heaven?\"\n\n[1: \"The ancient bond and new.\" The Old and New Testaments.]\n\n\"The works, that follow'd, evidence their truth,\"\nI answer'd: \"Nature did not make for these\nThe iron hot, or on her anvil mould them.\"\n\n\"Who voucheth to thee of the works themselves,\"\nWas the reply, \"that they in very deed\nAre that they purport? None hath sworn so to thee.\"\n\n\"That all the world,\" said I, \"should have been turn'd\nTo Christian, and no miracle been wrought,\nWould in itself be such a miracle,\nThe rest were not an hundredth part so great.\nE'en thou went'st forth in poverty and hunger\nTo set the goodly plant, that, from the vine\nIt once was, now is grown unsightly bramble.\"\n\nThat ended, through the high celestial court\nResounded all the spheres, \"Praise we one God!\"\nIn song of most unearthly melody.\nAnd when that Worthy[2] thus, from branch to branch,\nExamining, had led me, that we now\nApproach'd the topmost bough; he straight resumed:\n\"The grace, that holds sweet dalliance with thy soul\nSo far discreetly hath thy lips unclosed;\nThat, whatsoe'er has past them, I commend.\nBehoves thee to express, what thou believest,\nThe next; and, whereon, thy belief hath grown.\"\n\n[2: \"Quel Baron.\" In the next Canto, St. James is called \"Barone.\" So\nin Boccaccio, G. vi. N. 10, we find \"Baron Messer Santo Antonio.\"]\n\n\"O saintly sire and spirit!\" I began,\n\"Who seest that, which thou didst so believe,\nAs to outstrip feet younger than thine own,\nToward the sepulchre; thy will is here,\nThat I the tenour of my creed unfold;\nAnd thou, the cause of it, hast likewise ask'd.\nAnd I reply: I in one God believe;\nOne sole eternal Godhead, of whose love\nAll Heaven is moved, Himself unmoved the while.\nNor demonstration physical alone,\nOr more intelligential and abstruse,\nPersuades me to this faith: but from that truth\nIt cometh to me rather, which is shed\nThrough Moses; the rapt Prophets; and the Psalms;\nThe Gospel; and what ye yourselves did write,\nWhen ye were gifted of the Holy Ghost.\nI\nthree eternal Persons I believe;\nEssence threefold and one; mysterious league\nOf union absolute, which, many a time,\nThe word of gospel lore upon my mind\nImprints: and from this germ, this firstling spark\nThe lively flame dilates; and, like Heaven's star,\nDoth glitter in me.\" As the master hears,\nWell pleased, and then enfoldeth in his arms\nThe servant, who hath joyful tidings brought,\nAnd having told the errand keeps his peace;\nThus benediction uttering with song,\nSoon as my peace I held, compass'd me thrice\n\nThe apostolic radiance, whose behest\nHad oped my lips: so well their answer pleased.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 25\n\n\nCanto XXV\n\nArgument\n\nSt. James questions our Poet concerning Hope. Next St. John appears; and,\non perceiving that Dante looks intently on him, informs him that he, St. John,\nhad left his body resolved into earth, upon the earth, and that Christ and the\nVirgin alone had come with their bodies into Heaven.\n\nIf e'er the sacred poem, that hath made\nBoth Heaven and earth copartners in its toil,\nAnd with lean abstinence, through many a year,\nFaded my brow, be destined to prevail\nOver the cruelty, which bars me forth\nOf the fair sheep-fold,[1] where, a sleeping lamb,\nThe wolves set on and fain had worried me;\nWith other voice, and fleece of other grain,\nI shall forthwith return; and, standing up\nAt my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath\nDue to the poet's temples: for I there\nFirst enter'd on the faith, which maketh souls\nAcceptable to God: and, for its sake,[2]\nPeter had then circled my forehead thus.\n\n[1: Florence, whence he was banished.]\n\n[2: For the sake of that faith.]\n\nNext from the squadron, whence had issued forth\nThe first fruit of Christ's vicars on the earth,\nToward us moved a light, at view whereof\nMy Lady, full of gladness, spake to me:\n\"Lo! lo! behold the peer of mickle might,\nThat makes Galicia throng'd with visitants.\"[3]\n\n[3: \"At the time that the sepulchre of the apostle St. James was\ndiscovered, the devotion for that place extended itself not only over all\nSpain, but even round about to foreign nations. Multitudes from all parts of\nthe world came to visit it. Many others were deterred by the difficulty of the\njourney, by the roughness and barrenness of those parts, and by the incursions\nof the Moors, who made captives many of the pilgrims. The canons of St. Eloy,\nafterward (the precise time is not known), with a desire of remedying these\nevils, built, in many places along the whole road, which reached as far as to\nFrance, hospitals for the reception of the pilgrims.\"]\n\nAs when the ring - dove by his mate alights;\nIn circles, each about the other wheels,\nAnd, murmuring, coos his fondness; thus saw I\nOne, of the other[4] great and glorious prince,\nWith kindly greeting, hail'd; extolling, both,\nTheir heavenly banqueting: but when an end\nWas to their gratulation, silent, each,\nBefore me sat they down, so burning bright,\nI could not look upon them. Smiling then,\nBeatrice spake: \"O life in glory shrined!\nWho[5] didst the largess of our kingly court\nSet down with faithful pen, let now thy voice,\nOf hope the praises, in this height resound.\nFor well thou know'st, who figurest it as oft,\nAs Jesus, to ye three, more brightly shone.\"\n\"Lift up thy head; and be thou strong in trust:\nFor that, which hither from the mortal world\nArriveth, must be ripen'd in our beam.\"\n\n[4: \"One , of the other.\" St. Peter and St. James.]\n\n[5: 'Who.\" The Epistle of St. James is here attributed to the elder\napostle of that name, whose shrine was at Compostella, in Galicia.]\n\nSuch cheering accents from the second flame[6]\nAssured me; and mine eyes I lifted up[7]\nUnto the mountains, that had bow'd them late\nWith over - heavy burden. \"Sith our Liege\nWills of His grace, that thou, or e'er thy death,\nIn the most secret council with His lords\nShouldst be confronted, so that having view'd\nThe glories of our court, thou mayest therewith\nThyself, and all who hear, invigorate\nWith hope, that leads to blissful end; declare,\nWhat is that hope? how it doth flourish in thee?\nAnd whence thou hadst it?\" Thus, proceeding still,\nThe second light: and she, whose gentle love\nMy soaring pennons in that lofty flight\nEscorted, thus preventing me, rejoin'd:\n\"Among her sons, not one more full of hope,\nHath the Church Militant: so 'tis of him\nRecorded in the Sun, whose liberal orb\nEnlightened all our tribe: and ere his term\nOf warfare, hence permitted he is come,\n\n[6: \"The second flame.\" St. James.]\n\n[7: \"I lifted up.\" \"I looked up to the apostles.\" \"I will lift up\nmine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help.\" - Psalm cxxi. I.]\n\nFrom Egypt to Jerusalem,[8] to see.\nThe other points, both which[9] thou hast inquired,\nNot for more knowledge, but that he may tell\nHow dear thou hold'st the virtue; these to him\nLeave I: for he may answer thee with ease,\nAnd without boasting, so God give him grace.\"\n\n[8: From the lower world to Heaven.]\n\n[9: One point Beatrice has herself answered: \"how that hope\nflourishes in him.\" The other two remain for Dante to resolve.]\n\nLike to the scholar, practised in his task,\nWho, willing to give proof of diligence,\nSeconds his teacher gladly; \"Hope,\" said I,\n\"Is of the joy to come a sure expectance,\nThe effect of grace divine and merit preceding.\nThis light from many a star, visits my heart;\nBut flow'd to me, the first, from him who sang\nThe songs of the Supreme; himself supreme\nAmong his tuneful brethren. 'Let all hope\nIn thee,' so spake his anthem, 'who have known\nThy name;' and, with my faith, who knows not that?\nFrom thee, the next, distilling from his spring,\nIn thine epistle, fell on me the drops\nSo plenteously, that I on others shower\nThe influence of their dew.\" Whileas I spake,\nA lamping, as of quick and volley'd lightning,\nWithin the bosom of that mighty sheen[10]\nPlay'd tremulous; then forth these accents breathed:\n\"Love for the virtue, which attended me\nE'en to the palm, and issuing from the field,\nGlows vigorous yet within me; and inspires\nTo ask of thee, whom also it delights,\nWhat promise thou from hope, in chief, dost win.\"\n\n[10: \"That mighty sheen.\" The spirit of St. James.]\n\n\"Both scriptures, new and ancient,\" I replied,\n\"Propose the mark (which even now I view)\nFor souls beloved of God. Isaias[11] saith,\n'That, in their own land, each one must be clad\nIn two - fold vesture;' and their proper land\nIs this delicious life. In terms more full,\n\n[11: \"Isaias.\" \"He hath clothed me with the garments of salvation, he\nhath covered me with the robe of righteousness. - Chap. lxi. 10.]\n\nAnd clearer far, thy brother[12] hath set forth\nThis revelation to us, where he tells\nOf the white raiment destined to the saints.\"\nAnd, as the words were ending, from above,\n\"They hope in Thee!\" first heard we cried: whereto\nAnswer'd the carols all. Amidst them next,\nA light of so clear amplitude emerged,\nThat winter's month were but a single day,\nWere such a crystal in the Cancer's sign.\n\n[12: \"Thy brother.\" St. John in the Rev. vii. 9.]\n\nLike as a virgin riseth up, and goes,\nAnd enters on the mazes of the dance;\nThough gay, yet innocent of worse intent,\nThan to do fitting honour to the bride:\nSo I beheld the new effulgence come\nUnto the other two, who in a ring\nWheel'd, as became their rapture. In the dance,\nAnd in the song, it mingled. And the dame\nHeld on them fix'd her looks; e'en as the spouse,\nSilent, and moveless. \"This[13] is he, who lay\nUpon the bosom of our Pelican:\nThis he, into whose keeping, from the Cross,\nThe mighty charge was given.\" Thus she spake:\nYet therefore naught the more removed her sight\nFrom marking them: or e'er her words began,\nOr when they closed. As he, who looks intent,\nAnd strives with searching ken, how he may see\nThe sun in his eclipse, and, through desire\nOf seeing, loseth power of sight; so I[14]\nPeer'd on that last resplendence, while I heard:\n\"Why dazzlest thou thine eyes in seeking that,\nWhich here abides not? Earth my body is,\nIn earth; and shall be, with the rest, so long,\nAs till our number equal the decree\nOf the Most High. The two[15] that have ascended,\n\n[13: St. John, who reclined on the bosom of our Saviour, and to whose\ncharge Jesus recommended his mother.]\n\n[14: \"So I.\" He looked so earnestly, to descry whether St. John were\npresent there in body, or in spirit only; having had his doubts raised by that\nsaying of our Saviour's: \"If I will, that he tarry till I come, what is that\nto thee?\"]\n\n[15: Christ and Mary, described in Canto xxiii. as rising above his\nsight.]\n\nIn this our blessed cloister, shine alone\nWith the two garments. So report below.\"\n\nAs when, for ease of labour, or to shun\nSuspected peril, at a whistle's breath,\nThe oars, erewhile dash'd frequent in the wave,\nAll rest: the flamy circle at that voice\nSo rested; and the mingling sound was still,\nWhich from the trinal band, soft - breathing, rose.\nI turn'd, but ah! how trembled in my thought,\nWhen, looking at my side again to see\nBeatrice, I described her not; although,\nNot distant, on the happy coast she stood.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 26\n\n\nCanto XXVI\n\nArgument\n\nSt. John examines our Poet touching Charity. Afterward Adam tells when he\nwas created, and placed in the terrestrial Paradise; how long he remained in\nthat state; what was the occasion of his fall; when he was admitted into\nHeaven; and what language he spake.\n\nWith dazzled eyes, whilst wondering I remain'd;\nForth of the beamy flame,[1] which dazzled me,\nIssued a breath, that in attention mute\nDetain'd me; and these words it spake: \"'Twere well\nThat, long as till thy vision, on my form\nO'erspent, regain its virtue, with discourse\nThou compensate the brief delay. Say then,\nBeginning, to what point thy soul aspires:\nAnd meanwhile rest assured, that sight in thee\nIs but o'erpower'd a space, not wholly quench'd;\nSince thy fair guide and lovely, in her look\nHath potency, the like to that, which dwelt\nIn Ananias' hand.\"[2] I answering thus:\n\"Be to mine eyes the remedy, or late\nOr early, at her pleasure; for they were\nThe gates, at which she enter'd, and did light\nHer never - dying fire. My wishes here\nAre centred: in this palace is the weal,\nThat Alpha and Omega is, to all\n\n[1: \"The beamy flame.\" St. John.]\n\n[2: \"Ananias' hand.\" Who, by putting his hand on St. Paul, restored\nhis sight. Acts, ix. 17.]\n\nThe lessons love can read me.\" Yet again\nThe voice, which had dispersed my fear when dazed\nWith that excess, to converse urged, and spake:\n\"Behoves thee sift more narrowly thy terms;\nAnd say, who level'd at this scope thy bow.\"\n\"Philosophy,\" said I, \"hath arguments,\nAnd this place hath authority enough,\nTo imprint in me such love: for, of constraint,\nGood, inasmuch as we perceive the good,\nKindles our love; and in degree the more,\nAs it comprises more of goodness in 't.\nThe essence then, where such advantage is,\nThat each good, found without it, is naught else\nBut of His light the beam, must needs attract\nThe soul of each one, loving, who the truth\nDiscerns, on which this proof is built. Such truth\nLearn I from Him, who shows me the first love\nOf all intelligential substances\nEternal: from His voice I learn, whose word\nIs truth; that of Himself to Moses saith,\n'I will make all My good before thee pass:'\nLastly, from thee I learn, who chief proclaim'st,\nE'en at the outset[3] of thy heralding,\nIn mortal ears the mystery of Heaven.\"\n\n[3: \"At the outset.\" John i. I, etc.]\n\n\"Through human wisdom, and the authority\nTherewith agreeing,\" heard I answer'd, \"keep\nThe choicest of thy love for God. But say,\nIf thou yet other cords within thee feel'st,\nThat draw thee towards Him; so that thou report\nHow many are the fangs, with which this love\nIs grappled to thy soul.\" I did not miss,\nTo what intent the eagle of our Lord[4]\nHad pointed his demand; yea, noted well\nThe avowal which he led to; and resumed:\n\"All grappling bonds, that knit the heart to God,\nConfederate to make fast our charity.\nThe being of the world; and mine own being;\nThe death which He endured, that I should live;\nAnd that, which all the faithful hope, as I do;\n\n[4: \"The eagle of our Lord.\" St. John.]\n\nTo the foremention'd lively knowledge join'd;\nHave from the sea of ill love saved my bark,\nAnd on the coast secured it of the right.\nAs for the leaves,[5] that in the garden bloom,\nMy love for them is great, as is the good\nDealt by the eternal hand, that tends them all.\"\n\n[5: \"The leaves.\" Created beings.]\n\nI ended: and therewith a song most sweet\nRang through the spheres; and \"Holy, holy, holy,\"\nAccordant with the rest, my lady sang.\nAnd as a sleep is broken and dispersed\nThrough sharp encounter of the nimble light,\nWith the eye's spirit running forth to meet\nThe ray, from membrane on to membrane urged;\nAnd the upstartled wight loathes that he sees;\nSo, at his sudden waking, he misdeems\nOf all around him, till assurance waits\nOn better judgment: thus the saintly dame\nDrove from before mine eyes the motes away,\nWith the resplendence of her own, that cast\nTheir brightness downward, thousand miles below.\nWhence I my vision, clearer than before,\nRecover'd; and well nigh astounded, ask'd\nOf a fourth light, that now with us I saw.\n\nAnd Beatrice: \"The first living soul,[6]\nThat ever the first Virtue framed, admires\nWithin these rays his Maker.\" Like the leaf,\nThat bows its lithe top till the blast is blown;\nBy its own virtue rear'd, then stands aloof:\nSo I, the whilst she said, awe - stricken bow'd.\nThen eagerness to speak embolden'd me;\nAnd I began: \"O fruit! that wast alone\nMature, when first engender'd; ancient father!\nThat doubly seest in every wedded bride\nThy daughter, by affinity and blood;\nDevoutly as I may, I pray thee hold\nConverse with me: my will thou seest: and I,\nMore speedily to hear thee, tell it not.\"\n\n[6: \"The first living soul.\" Adam.]\n\nIt chanceth oft some animal bewrays,\nThrough the sleek covering of his furry coat,\n\nThe fondness, that stirs in him, and conforms\nHis outside seeming to the cheer within:\nAnd in like guise was Adam's spirit moved\nTo joyous mood, that through the covering shone,\nTransparent, when to pleasure me it spake:\n\"No need thy will be told, which I untold\nBetter discern, than thou whatever thing\nThou hold'st most certain: for that will I see\nIn Him, who is truth's mirror; and Himself,\nParhelion unto all things, and naught else,\nTo Him. This wouldst thou hear: how long since, God\nPlaced me in that high garden, from whose bounds\nShe led thee up this ladder, steep and long;\nWhat space endured my season of delight;\nWhence truly sprang the wrath that banish'd me;\nAnd what the language, which I spake and framed.\nNot that I tasted of the tree, my son,\nWas in itself the cause of that exile,\nBut only my transgressing of the mark\nAssign'd me. There, whence[7] at thy lady's hest\nThe Mantuan moved him, still was I debarr'd\nThis council, till the sun had made complete,\nFour thousand and three hundred rounds and twice,\nHis annual journey; and, through every light\nIn his broad pathway, saw I him return,\nThousand save seventy times, the whilst I dwelt\nUpon the earth. The language I did use\nWas worn away, or ever Nimrod's race\nTheir unaccomplishable work began.\nFor naught, that man inclines to, e'er was lasting;\nLeft by his reason free, and variable\nAs is the sky that sways him. That he speaks,\nIs nature's prompting: whether thus, or thus,\nShe leaves to you, as ye do most affect it.\nEre I descended into Hell's abyss,\nEl was the name on earth of the Chief Good,\nWhose joy enfolds me: Eli then 'twas call'd.\n\n[7: \"Whence.\" That is, from Limbo. See Hell, Canto ii. 53. Adam says\nthat 5,232 years elapsed from his creation to the time of his deliverance,\nwhich followed the death of Christ.]\n\nAnd so beseemeth: for, in mortals, use\nIs as the leaf upon the bough: that goes,\nAnd other comes instead. Upon the mount\nMost high above the waters, all my life,\nBoth innocent and guilty, did but reach\nFrom the first hour, to that which cometh next\n(As the sun changes quarter) to the sixth.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 27\n\n\nCanto XXVII\n\nArgument\n\nSt. Peter bitterly rebukes the covetousness of his successors in the\nApostolic See, while all the heavenly host sympathize in his indignation; they\nthen vanish upward. Beatrice bids Dante again cast his view below. Afterward\nthey are borne into the ninth heaven, of which she shows him the nature and\nproperties; blaming the perverseness of man, who places his will on low and\nperishable things.\n\nThen \"Glory to the Father, to the Son,\nAnd to the Holy Spirit,\" rang aloud\nThroughout all Paradise; that with the song\nMy spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain.\nAnd what I saw was equal ecstasy:\nOne universal smile it seem'd of all things;\nJoy past compare; gladness unutterable;\nImperishable life of peace and love;\nExhaustless riches, and unmeasured bliss.\n\nBefore mine eyes stood the four torches[1] lit:\nAnd that,[2] which first had come, began to wax\nIn brightness; and, in semblance, such became,\nAs Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds,\nAnd interchanged their plumes. Silence ensued,\nThrough the blest quire; by Him, who here appoints\nVicissitude of ministry, enjoin'd;\nWhen thus I heard: \"Wonder not, if my hue\nBe changed; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see\nAll in like manner change with me. My place\nHe[3] who usurps on earth, (my place, ay, mine,\nWhich in the presence of the Son of God\nIs void,) the same hath made my cemetery\nA common sewer of puddle and of blood:\n\n[1: \"Four torches.\" St. Peter, St. James, St. John, and Adam.]\n\n[2: \"That.\" St. Peter, who looked as the planet Jupiter would, if it\nassumed the sanguine appearance of Mars.]\n\n[3: \"He.\" Boniface VIII.]\n\nThe more below his triumph, who from hence\nMalignant fell.\" Such colour, as the sun,\nAt eve or morning, paints an adverse cloud,\nThen saw I sprinkled over all the sky.\nAnd as the unblemish'd dame, who, in herself\nSecure of censure, yet at bare report\nOf other's failing, shrinks with maiden fear;\nSo Beatrice, in her semblance, changed:\nAnd such eclipse in Heaven, methinks, was seen,\nWhen the Most Holy suffer'd. Then the words\nProceeded, with voice, alter'd from itself\nSo clean, the semblance did not alter more.\n\"Not to this end was Christ's spouse with my blood,\nWith that of Linus, and of Cletus,[4] fed;\nThat she might serve for purchase of base gold:\nBut for the purchase of this happy life,\nDid Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed,\nAnd Urban;[5] they, whose doom was not without\nMuch weeping seal'd. No purpose was of ours,[6]\nThat on the right hand of our successors,\nPart of the Christian people should be set,\nAnd part upon their left; nor that the keys,\nWhich were vouchsafed me, should for ensign serve\nUnto the banners, that do levy war\nOn the baptized; nor I, for sigil - mark,\nSet upon sold and lying privileges:\nWhich makes me oft to bicker and turn red.\nIn shepherd's clothing, greedy wolves[7] below\nRange wide o'er all the pastures. Arm of God!\nWhy longer sleep'st thou? Cahorsines and Gascons[8]\nPrepare to quaff our blood. O good beginning!\nTo what a vile conclusion must thou stoop.\nBut the high Providence, which did defend,\n\n[4: Bishops of Rome in the first century.]\n\n[5: The former two, bishops of the same see, in the second; and the\nothers, in the fourth century.]\n\n[6: \"We did not intend that our successors should take any part in\nthe political divisions among Christians; or that my figure (the seal of St.\nPeter) should serve as a mark to authorize iniquitous grants and privileges.\"]\n\n[7: \"Wolves shall succeed to teachers, grievous wolves.\" - Milton,\n\"Paradise Lost,\" b. xii 508.]\n\n[8: He alludes to Jacques d'Ossa, a native of Cahors, pope, as John\nXXII, in 1316, after the chair had been two years vacant, and to Clement V, a\nGascon.]\n\nThrough Scipio, the world's empery for Rome,\nWill not delay its succour: and thou, son,\nWho through thy mortal weight shalt yet again\nReturn below, open thy lips, nor hide\nWhat is by me not hidden.\" As a flood\nOf frozen vapours streams adown the air,\nWhat time the she - goat[9] with her skiey horn\nTouches the sun; so saw I there stream wide\nThe vapours, who with us had linger'd late,\nAnd with glad triumph deck the ethereal cope.\nOnward my sight their semblances pursued;\nSo far pursued, as till the space between\nFrom its reach sever'd them: whereat the guide\nCelestial, marking me no more intent\nOn upward gazing, said, \"Look down, and see\nWhat circuit thou hast compast.\" From the hour[10]\nWhen I before had cast my view beneath,\nAll the first region overpast I saw,\nWhich from the midmost to the boundary winds;\nThat onward, thence, from Gades,[11] I beheld\nThe unwise passage of Laertes' son;\nAnd hitherward the shore,[12] where thou Europa,\nMadest thee a joyful burden; and yet more\nOf this dim spot had seen, but that the sun,[13]\nA constellation off and more, had ta'en\nHis progress in the zodiac underneath.\n\n[9: When the sun is in Capricorn.]\n\n[10: \"From the hour.\" Since he had last looked (see Canto xxii) he\nperceived that he had passed from the meridian circle to the eastern horizon;\nthe half of our hemisphere, and a quarter of the heaven.]\n\n[11: See Hell, Canto xxvi. 106.]\n\n[12: Phoenicia, where Europa, daughter of Agenor, mounted on the back\nof Jupiter, in his shape of a bull.]\n\n[13: \"The sun.\" Dante was in the constellation of Gemini, and the sun\nin Aries. There was, therefore, part of those two constellations, and the\nwhole of Taurus, between them.]\n\nThen by the spirit, that doth never leave\nIts amorous dalliance with my lady's looks,\nBack with redoubled ardour were mine eyes\nLed unto her: and from her radiant smiles,\nWhenas I turn'd me, pleasure so divine\nDid lighten on me, that whatever bait\nOr art or nature in the human flesh,\nOr in its limn'd resemblance, can combine\n\nThrough greedy eyes to take the soul withal,\nWere, to her beauty, nothing. Its boon influence\nFrom the fair nest of Leda[14] rapt me forth,\nAnd wafted on into the swiftest Heaven.\n\n[14: \"The fair nest of Leda.\" From the Gemini; thus called, because\nLeda was the mother of the twins, Castor and Pollux.]\n\nWhat place for entrance Beatrice chose,\nI may not say; so uniform was all,\nLiveliest and loftiest. She my secret wish\nDivined; and, with such gladness, that God's love\nSeem'd from her visage shining, thus began:\n\"Here is the goal, whence motion on his race\nStarts: motionless the centre, and the rest\nAll moved around. Except the soul divine.\nPlace in this Heaven is none; the soul divine,\nWherein the love, which ruleth o'er its orb,\nIs kindled, and the virtue, that it sheds:\nOne circle, light and love, enclasping it,\nAs this doth clasp the others; and to Him,\nWho draws the bound, its limit only known.\nMeasured itself by none, it doth divide\nMotion to all, counted unto them forth,\nAs by the fifth or half ye count forth ten.\nThe vase, wherein time's roots are plunged, thou seest:\nLook elsewhere for the leaves. O mortal lust!\nThat canst not lift thy head above the waves\nWhich whelm and sink thee down. The will in man\nBears goodly blossoms; but its ruddy promise\nIs, by the dripping of perpetual rain,\nMade mere abortion: faith and innocence\nAre met with but in babes; each taking leave,\nEre cheeks with down are sprinkled: he, that fasts\nWhile yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose\nGluts every food alike in every moon:\nOne, yet a babbler, loves and listens to\nHis mother; but no sooner hath free use\nOf speech, than he doth wish her in her grave.\nSo suddenly doth the fair child of him,\nWhose welcome is the morn and eve his parting,\nTo negro blackness change her virgin white.\n\n\"Thou, to abate thy wonder, note, that none\nBears rule in earth; and its frail family\nAre therefore wanderers. Yet before the date,\nWhen through the hundredth in his reckoning dropt,\nPale January must be shoved aside\nFrom winter's calendar, these heavenly spheres\nShall roar so loud, that fortune shall be fain[15]\nTo turn the poop, where she hath now the prow;\nSo that the fleet run onward: and true fruit,\nExpected long, shall crown at last the bloom.\"\n\n[15: \"Fortune shall be fain.\" The commentators in general suppose\nthat our Poet here augurs that great reform which he vainly hoped would follow\non the arrival of the Emperor Henry VII in Italy.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 28\n\n\nCanto XXVIII\n\nArgument\n\nStill in the ninth heaven, our Poet is permitted to behold the divine\nessence; and then sees, in three hierarchies, the nine choirs of angels.\nBeatrice clears some difficulties which occur to him on this occasion.\n\nSo she, who doth imparadise my soul,\nHad drawn the veil from off our present life,\nAnd bared the truth of poor mortality:\nWhen lo! as one who, in a mirror, spies\nThe shining of a flambeau at his back,\nLit sudden ere he deem of its approach,\nAnd turneth to resolve him, if the glass\nHave told him true, and sees the record faithful\nAs note is to its metre; even thus,\nI well remember, did befal to me,\nLooking upon the beauteous eyes, whence love\nHad made the leash to take me. As I turn'd:\nAnd that which none, who in that volume looks,\nCan miss of, in itself apparent, struck\nMy view; a point I saw, that darted light\nSo sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear up\nAgainst its keenness. The least star we ken\nFrom hence, had seem'd a moon; set by its side,\nAs star by side of star. And so far off,\nPerchance, as is the halo from the light\nWhich paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads;\n\nThere wheel'd about the point a circle of fire,\nMore rapid than the motion which surrounds,\nSpeediest, the world. Another this enring'd;\nAnd that a third; the third a fourth, and that\nA fifth encompass'd; which a sixth next bound;\nAnd over this, a seventh, following, reach'd\nCircumference so ample, that its bow,\nWithin the span of Juno's messenger,\nHad scarce been held entire. Beyond a seventh,\nEnsued yet other two. And every one,\nAs more in number distant from the first,\nWas tardier in motion: and that glow'd\nWith flame most pure, that to the sparkle of truth,\nWas nearest; as partaking most, methinks,\nOf its reality. The guide beloved\nSaw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake:\n\"Heaven, and all nature, hangs upon that point.\nThe circle thereto most conjoin'd observe;\nAnd know, that by intenser love its course\nIs, to this swiftness, wing'd.\" To whom I thus:\n\"It were enough; nor should I further seek,\nHad I but witness'd order, in the world\nAppointed, such as in these wheels is seen.\nBut in the sensible world such difference is,\nThat in each round shows more divinity,\nAs each is wider from the centre. Hence,\nIf in this wondrous and angelic temple,\nThat hath, for confine, only light and love,\nMy wish may have completion, I must know,\nWherefore such disagreement is between\nThe exemplar and its copy: for myself,\nContemplating, I fail to pierce the cause.\"\n\n\"It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil'd\nDo leave the knot untied: so hard 'tis grown\nFor want of tenting.\" Thus she said: \"But take,\"\nShe added, \"if thou wish thy cure, my words,\nAnd entertain them subtly. Every orb,\nCorporeal, doth proportion its extent\nUnto the virtue through its parts diffused.\nThe greater blessedness preserves the more,\nThe greater is the body (if all parts\nShare equally) the more is to preserve.\nTherefore the circle, whose swift course enwheels\nThe universal frame, answers to that\nWhich is supreme in knowledge and in love.\nThus by the virtue, not the seeming breadth\nOf substance, measuring, thou shalt see the Heavens,\nEach to the intelligence that ruleth it,\nGreater to more, and smaller unto less,\nSuited in strict and wondrous harmony.\"\n\nAs when the north blows from his milder cheek\nA blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,\nClear'd of the rack that hung on it before,\nGlitters; and, with his beauties all unveil'd,\nThe firmament looks forth serene, and smiles:\nSuch was my cheer, when Beatrice drove\nWith clear reply the shadows back, and truth\nWas manifested, as a star in Heaven.\nAnd when the words were ended, not unlike\nTo iron in the furnace, every cirque,\nEbullient, shot forth scintillating fires:\nAnd every sparkle shivering to new blaze,\nIn number[1] did outmillion the account\nReduplicate upon the chequer'd board.\nThen heard I echoing on, from choir to choir,\n\"Hosanna,\" to the fixed point, that holds,\nAnd shall for ever hold them to their place,\nFrom everlasting, irremovable.\n\n[1: \"In number.\" The sparkles exceeded the number which would be\nproduced by the sixty - four squares of a chess - board, if for the first we\nreckoned one; for the next, two; for the third, four; and so went on doubling\nto the end of the account.]\n\nMusing awhile I stood: and she, who saw\nMy inward meditations, thus began:\n\"In the first circles, they, whom thou beheld'st\nAre Seraphim and Cherubim. Thus swift\nFollow their hoops, in likeness to the point,\nNear as they can, approaching; and they can\nThe more, the loftier their vision. Those\nThat round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,\nAre Thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And all\n\nAre blessed, even as their sight descends\nDeeper into the Truth, wherein rest is\nFor every mind. Thus happiness hath root\nIn seeing, not in loving, which of sight\nIs aftergrowth. And of the seeing such\nThe meed, as unto each, in due degree,\nGrace and good - will their measure have assign'd.\nThe other trine, that with still opening buds\nIn this eternal springtide blossom fair,\nFearless of bruising from the nightly ram,[2]\nBreathe up in warbled melodies threefold\nHosannas, blending ever; from the three,\nTransmitted, hierarchy of gods, for aye\nRejoicing; dominations first; next them,\nVirtues; and powers the third; the next to whom\nAre princedoms and archangels, with glad round\nTo tread their festal ring; and last, the band\nAngelical, disporting in their sphere.\nAll, as they circle in their orders, look\nAloft; and, downward, with such sway prevail,\nThat all with mutual impulse tend to God.\nThese once a mortal view beheld. Desire\nIn Dionysius,[3] so intensely wrought,\nThat he, as I have done, ranged them; and named,\nTheir orders, marshal'd in his thought. From him,\nDissentient, one refused his sacred read.\nBut soon as in this Heaven his doubting eyes\nWere open'd, Gregory[4] at his error smiled.\nNor marvel, that a denizen of earth\nShould scan such secret truth; for he had learnt[5]\n\n[2: Not injured, like spring products, by the influence of autumn,\nwhen the constellation Aries rises at sunset.]\n\n[3: The Areopagite, in his book \"De Coelesti Hierarchia.\"]\n\n[4: \"Gregory.\" Gregory the Great.]\n\n[5: \"He had learnt.\" Dionysius, he says, had learnt from St. Paul.\nThe book above referred to, which goes under his name, was the production of a\nlater age. In Bishop Bull's seventh sermon, which treats of the different\ndegrees of beatitude in Heaven, there is much that resembles what is said on\nthe same subject by our Poet. The learned prelate, however, appears a little\ninconsistent, when, after having blamed Dionysius the Areopagite, \"for\nreckoning up exactly the several orders of the angelical hierarchy, as if he\nhad seen a muster of the heavenly host before his eyes\" (v. i. p. 313), he\nhimself speaks more particularly of the several orders in the celestial\nhierarchy than Holy Scripture warrants.]\n\nBoth this and much beside of these our orbs,\nFrom an eye - witness to Heaven's mysteries.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 29\n\n\nCanto XXIX\n\nArgument\n\nBeatrice beholds, in the mirror of divine truth, some doubts which had\nentered the mind of Dante. These she resolves; and then digresses into a\nvehement reprehension of certain theologians and preachers in those days,\nwhose ignorance or avarice induced them to substitute their own inventions for\nthe pure word of the Gospel.\n\nNo longer, than what time Latona's twins\nCover'd of Libra and the fleecy star,\nTogether both, girding the horizon hang;\nIn even balance, from the zenith poised;\nTill from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,\nPart the nice level; e'en so brief a space\nDid Beatrice's silence hold. A smile\nSat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze\nBent on the point, at which my vision fail'd:\nWhen thus, her words resuming, she began:\n\"I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;\nFor I have mark'd it, where all time and place\nAre present. Not for increase to Himself\nOf good, which may not be increased, but forth\nTo manifest His glory by its beams;\nInhabiting His own eternity,\nBeyond time's limit or what bound soe'er\nTo circumscribe His being; as He will'd,\nInto new natures, like unto Himself,\nEternal Love unfolded. Nor before,\nAs if in dull inaction, torpid, lay.\nFor, not in process of before or aft,\nUpon these waters moved the Spirit of God.\nSimple and mix'd, both form and substance, forth\nTo perfect being started, like three darts\nShot from a bow three - corded. And as ray\nIn crystal, glass, and amber, shines entire,\nE'en at the moment of its issuing; thus\nDid, from the eternal Sovran, beam entire\nHis threefold operation, at one act\nProduced coeval. Yet, in order, each\nCreated his due station knew: those highest,\nWho pure intelligence were made; mere power,\nThe lowest; in the midst, bound with strict league,\nIntelligence and power, unsever'd bond.\nLong tract of ages by the Angels past,\nEre the creating of another world,\nDescribed on Jerome's pages,[1] thou hast seen.\nBut that what I disclose to thee is true,\nThose penmen,[2] whom the Holy Spirit moved\nIn many a passage of their sacred book,\nAttest; as thou by diligent search shalt find:\nAnd reason,[3] in some sort, discerns the same,\nWho scarce would grant the heavenly ministers,\nOf their perfection void, so long a space.\nThus when and where these spirits of love were made,\nThou know'st, and how: and, knowing, hast allay'd\nThy thirst, which from the triple question[4] rose.\nEre one had reckon'd twenty, e'en so soon,\nPart of the Angels fell: and in their fall,\nConfusion to your elements ensued.\nThe others kept their station: and this task,\nWhereon thou look'st, began, with such delight,\nThat they surcease not ever, day nor night,\nTheir circling. Of that fatal lapse the cause\nWas the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen\nPent with the world's incumbrance. Those, whom here\nThou seest, were lowly to confess themselves\nOf His free bounty, who had made them apt\nFor ministeries so high: therefore their views\nWere, by enlightening grace and their own merit,\nExalted; so that in their will confirm'd\nThey stand, nor fear to fall. For do not doubt,\nBut to receive the grace, which Heaven vouchsafes,\n\n[1: Jerome had described the Angels as created long before the rest\nof the universe; an opinion which Thomas Aquinas controverted.]\n\n[2: As in Gen. i. I, and Eccles. xviii. I.]\n\n[3: \"Reason.\" The heavenly ministers (\"motori\") would have existed to\nno purpose if they had been created before the corporeal world, which they\nwere to govern.]\n\n[4: He had wished to know where, when, and how the Angels had been\ncreated, and these three questions had been resolved.]\n\nIs meritorious, even as the soul\nWith prompt affection welcometh the guest.\nNow, without further help, if with good heed\nMy words thy mind have treasured, thou henceforth\nThis consistory round about mayst scan,\nAnd gaze thy fill. But, since thou hast on earth\nHeard vain disputers, reasoners in the schools,\nCanvass the angelic nature, and dispute\nIts powers of apprehension, memory, choice;\nTherefore, 'tis well thou take from me the truth,\nPure and without disguise; which they below,\nEquivocating, darken and perplex.\n\n\"Know thou, that, from the first, these substances,\nRejoicing in the countenance of God,\nHave held unceasingly their view, intent\nUpon the glorious vision, from the which\nNought absent is nor hid: where then no change\nOf newness, with succession, interrupts,\nRemembrance, there, needs none to gather up\nDivided thought and images remote.\n\n\"So that men, thus at variance with the truth,\nDream, though their eyes be open; reckless some\nOf error; others well aware they err,\nTo whom more guilt and shame are justly due.\nEach the known track of sage philosophy\nDeserts, and has a bye - way of his own:\nSo much the restless eagerness to shine,\nAnd love of singularity prevail.\nYet this, offensive as it is, provokes\nHeaven's anger less, than when the Book of God\nIs forced to yield to man's authority,\nOr from its straightness warp'd: no reckoning made\nWhat blood the sowing of it in the world\nHas cost; what favour for himself he wins,\nWho meekly clings to it. The aim of all\nIs how to shine: e'en they, whose office is\nTo preach the Gospel, let the Gospel sleep,\nAnd pass their own inventions off instead.\nOne tells, how at Christ's suffering the wan moon\nBent back her steps, and shadow'd o'er the sun\nWith intervenient disk, as she withdrew:\nAnother, how the light shrouded itself\nWithin its tabernacle, and left dark\nThe Spaniard, and the Indian, with the Jew.\nSuch fables Florence in her pulpit hears,\nBandied about more frequent, than the names\nOf Bindi and of Lapi[5] in her streets.\nThe sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return\nFrom pasture, fed with wind: and what avails\nFor their excuse, they do not see their harm?\nChrist said not to His first conventicle,\n'Go forth and preach impostures to the world,'\nBut gave them truth to build on; and the sound\nWas mighty on their lips: nor needed they,\nBeside the Gospel, other spear or shield,\nTo aid them in their warfare for the faith.\nThe preacher now provides himself with store\nOf jests and gibes; and, so there be no lack\nOf laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl\nDistends, and he has won the meed he sought:\nCould but the vulgar catch a glimpse the while\nOf that dark bird which nestles in his hood,\nThey scarce would wait to hear the blessing said,\nWhich now the dotards hold in such esteem,\nThat every counterfeit, who spreads abroad\nThe hands of holy promise, finds a throng\nOf credulous fools beneath. Saint Anthony\nFattens with this his swine,[6] and others worse\nThan swine, who diet at his lazy board,\nPaying with unstampt metal[7] for their fare,\n\n[5: Common names at Florence.]\n\n[6: On the sale of these blessings, the brothers of St. Anthony\nsupported themselves and their paramours. From behind the swine of St.\nAnthony, our Poet levels a blow at Boniface VIII, from whom, in 1297, they\nobtained the privileges of an independent congregation.]\n\n[7: With false indulgences.]\n\n\"But (for we far have wander'd) let us seek\nThe forward path again; so as the way\nBe shorten'd with the time. No mortal tongue,\nNor thought of man, hath ever reach'd so far,\nThat of these natures he might count the tribes.\nWhat Daniel[8] of their thousands hath reveal'd,\n\n[8: \"Daniel.\" \"Thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten\nthousand times ten thousand stood before him\" - Dan. vii. 10.]\n\nWith finite number, infinite conceals.\nThe fountain, at whose source these drink their beams,\nWith light supplies them in as many modes,\nAs there are splendours that it shines on: each\nAccording to the virtue it conceives,\nDiffering in love and sweet affection.\nLook then how lofty and how huge in breadth\nThe eternal Might, which, broken and dispersed\nOver such countless mirrors, yet remains\nWhole in itself and one, as at the first.\"\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 30\n\n\nCanto XXX\n\nArgument\n\nDante is taken up with Beatrice into the empyrean; and there having his\nsight strengthened by her aid, and by the virtue derived from looking on the\nriver of light, he sees the triumph of the Angels and of the souls of the\nblessed.\n\nNoon's fervid hour perchance six thousand miles[1]\nFrom hence is distant; and the shadowy cone\nAlmost to level on our earth declines;\nWhen, from the midmost of this blue abyss,\nBy turns some star is to our vision lost.\nAnd straightway as the handmaid of the sun\nPuts forth her radiant brow, all, light by light,\nFade; and the spangled firmament shuts in,\nE'en to the loveliest of the glittering throng.\nThus vanish'd gradually from my sight\nThe triumph, which plays ever round the point,\nThat overcame me, seeming (for it did)\nEngirt[2] by that it girdeth. Wherefore love,\nWith loss of other object, forced me bend\nMine eyes on Beatrice once again.\n\n[1: He compares the vanishing of the vision to the fading away of the\nstars at dawn, when it is noonday 6,000 miles off, and the shadow, formed by\nthe earth over the part of it inhabited by the Poet, is about to disappear.]\n\n[2: \"Appearing to be encompassed by these angelic bands, which are in\nreality encompassed by it.\"]\n\nIf all, that hitherto is told of her,\nWere in one praise concluded, 'twere too weak\nTo furnish out this turn. Mine eyes did look\nOn beauty, such, as I believe in sooth,\n\nNot merely to exceed our human; but,\nThat save its Maker, none can to the full\nEnjoy it. At this point o'erpower'd I fail;\nUnequal to my theme; as never bard\nOf buskin or of sock hath fail'd before.\nFor as the sun doth to the feeblest sight,\nE'en so remembrance of that witching smile\nHath dispossest my spirit of itself.\nNot from that day, when on this earth I first\nBeheld her charms, up to that view of them,\nHave I with song applausive ever ceased\nTo follow; but now follow them no more;\nMy course here bounded, as each artist's is,\nWhen it doth touch the limit of his skill.\n\nShe (such as I bequeath her to the bruit\nOf louder trump than mine, which hasteneth on\nUrging its arduous matter to the close)\nHer words resumed, in gesture and in voice\nResembling one accustom'd to command:\n\"Forth[3] from the last corporeal are we come\nInto the Heaven, that is unbodied light;\nLight intellectual, replete with love;\nLove of true happiness, replete with joy;\nJoy, that transcends all sweetness of delight.\nHere shalt thou look on either mighty host[4]\nOf Paradise; and one in that array,\nWhich in the final judgment thou shalt see.\"\n\n[3: From the ninth sphere to the empyrean, which is mere light.]\n\n[4: Of Angels, that remained faithful, and of beatified souls; the\nlatter in the form they will have at the last day.]\n\nAs when the lightning, in a sudden spleen\nUnfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes\nThe visive spirits, dazzled and bedimm'd;\nSo, round about me, fulminating streams\nOf living radiance play'd, and left me swathed\nAnd veiled in dense impenetrable blaze.\nSuch weal is in the love, that stills this heaven;\nFor its own flame[5] the torch thus fitting ever.\n\n[5: Thus disposing the spirits to receive its own beatific light.]\n\nNo sooner to my listening ear had come\nThe brief assurance, than I understood\nNew virtue into me infused, and sight\nKindled afresh, with vigour to sustain\nExcess of light however pure. I look'd;\nAnd, in the likeness of a river, saw\nLight flowing, from whose amber - seeming waves\nFlash'd up effulgence, as they glided on\n'Twixt banks, on either side, painted with spring,\nIncredible how fair: and, from the tide,\nThere ever and anon, outstarting, flew\nSparkles instinct with life; and in the flowers\nDid set them, like to rubies, chased in gold:\nThen, as if drunk with odours, plunged again\nInto the wondrous flood; from which, as one\nRe - enter'd, still another rose. \"The thirst\nOf knowledge high, whereby thou art inflamed,\nTo search the meaning of what here thou seest,\nThe more it warms thee, pleases me the more,\nBut first behoves thee of this water drink,\nOr e'er that longing be allay'd.\" So spake\nThe day - star of mine eyes: then thus subjoin'd:\n\"This stream; and these, forth issuing from its gulf,\nAnd diving back, a living topaz each;\nWith all this laughter on its bloomy shores;\nAre but a preface, shadowy of the truth\nThey emblem: not that, in themselves, the things\nAre crude; but on thy part is the defect,\nFor that thy views not yet aspire so high.\"\n\nNever did babe, that had outslept his wont,\nRush, which such eager straining, to the milk,\nAs I toward the water; bending me,\nTo make the better mirrors of mine eyes\nIn the refining wave: and as the eaves\nOf mine eyelids did drink of it, forthwith\nSeem'd it unto me turn'd from length to round.\nThen as a troop of maskers, when they put\nTheir vizors off, look other than before;\nThe counterfeited semblance thrown aside:\nSo into greater jubilee were changed\nThose flowers and sparkles; and distinct I saw,\nBefore me, either court of Heaven display'd.\n\nO prime enlightener! thou who gavest me strength\nOn the high triumph of Thy realm to gaze;\nGrant virtue not to utter what I kenn'd.\n\nThere is in Heaven a light, whose goodly shine\nMakes the Creator visible to all\nCreated, that in seeing Him alone\nHave peace; and in a circle spreads so far,\nThat the circumference were too loose a zone\nTo girdle in the sun. All is one beam,\nReflected from the summit of the first,\nThat moves, which being hence and vigour takes.\nAnd as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes\nHis image mirror'd in the crystal flood,\nAs if to admire his brave apparelling\nOf verdure and of flowers; so, round about,\nEying the light, on more than million thrones,\nStood, eminent, whatever from our earth\nHas to the skies return'd. How wide the leaves,\nExtended to their utmost, of this rose,\nWhose lowest step embosoms such a space\nOf ample radiance! Yet, nor amplitude\nNor height impeded, but my view with ease\nTook in the full dimensions of that joy.\nNear or remote, what there avails, where God\nImmediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends\nHer sway? Into the yellow of the rose\nPerennial, which, in bright expansiveness,\nLays forth its gradual blooming, redolent\nOf praises to the never - wintering sun,\nAs one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace,\nBeatrice led me; and, \"Behold,\" she said,\n\"This fair assemblage; stoles of snowy white,\nHow numberless. The city, where we dwell,\nBehold how vast; and these our seats so throng'd,\nFew now are wanting here. In that proud stall,\nOn which, the crown, already o'er its state\nSuspended, holds thine eyes - or e'er thyself\nMayst at the wedding sup - shall rest the soul\nOf the great Harry,[6] he who, by the world\nAugustus hail'd, to Italy must come,\nBefore her day be ripe. But ye are sick,\nAnd in your tetchy wantonness as blind,\nAs is the bantling, that of hunger dies,\nAnd drives away the nurse. Nor may it be,\nThat he,[7] who in the sacred forum sways,\nOpenly or in secret, shall with him\nAccordant walk: whom God will not endure\nI' the holy office long; but thrust him down\nTo Simon Magus, where Alagna's priest[8]\nWill sink beneath him: such will be his meed.\"\n\n[6: \"Of the great Harry.\" The Emperor Henry VII, who died in 1313.\n\"Henry, Count of Luxemburg, held the imperial power three years, seven months\nand eighteen days from his first coronation to his death. He was a man wise,\nand just, and gracious; brave and intrepid in arms; a man of honor and a good\ncatholic; and although by his lineage he was of no great condition, yet he was\nof a magnanimous heart, much feared and held in awe; and if he had lived\nlonger, would have done the greatest things.\" G. Villani.]\n\n[7: Clement V. See Canto xxvii. 53.]\n\n[8: \"Alagna's priest.\" Pope Boniface VIII. Hell, Canto xix. 79.]\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 31\n\n\nCanto XXXI\n\nArgument\n\nThe Poet expatiates further on the glorious vision described in the last\nCanto. On looking round for Beatrice, he finds that she has left him, and that\nan old man is at his side. This proves to be St. Bernard, who shows him that\nBeatrice has returned to her throne, and then points out to him the\nblessedness of the Virgin Mother.\n\nIn fashion, as a snow white rose, lay then\nBefore my view the saintly multitude,[1]\nWhich in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile,\nThat other host,[2] that soar aloft to gaze\nAnd celebrate His glory, whom they love,\nHover'd around; and, like a troop of bees,\nAmid the vernal sweets alighting now,\nNow, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows,\nFlew downward to the mighty flower, or rose\nFrom the redundant petals, streaming back\nUnto the steadfast dwelling of their joy,\nFaces had they of flame, and wings of gold:\n\n[1: Human souls, advanced to this state of glory through the\nmediation of Christ.]\n\n[2: \"That other host.\" The Angels.]\n\nThe rest was whiter than the driven snow;\nAnd, as they flitted down into the flower,\nFrom range to range, fanning their plumy loins,\nWhisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won\nFrom that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast\nInterposition of such numerous flight\nCast, from above, upon the flower, or view\nObstructed aught. For, through the universe,\nWherever merited, celestial light\nGlides freely, and no obstacle prevents.\n\nAll there, who reign in safety and in bliss,\nAges long past or new, on one sole mark\nTheir love and vision fix'd. O trinal beam\nOf individual star, that charm'st them thus!\nVouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below.[3]\n\n[3: To guide us through the dangers of this tempestuous life.]\n\nIf the grim brood,[4] from Arctic shores that roam'd,\n(Where Helice[5] for ever, as she wheels,\nSparkles a mother's fondness on her son),\nStood in mute wonder' mid the works of Rome,\nWhen to their view the Lateran arose\nIn greatness more than earthly; I, who then\nFrom human to divine had past, from time\nUnto eternity, and out of Florence\nTo justice and to truth, how might I chuse\nBut marvel too? 'Twixt gladness and amaze,\nIn sooth no will had I to utter aught,\nOr hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests\nWithin the temple of his vow, looks round\nIn breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell\nOf all its goodly state; e'en so mine eyes\nCoursed up and down along the living light,\nNow low, and now aloft, and now around,\nVisiting every step. Looks I beheld,\nWhere charity in soft persuasion sat;\nSmiles from within, and radiance from above;\nAnd, in each gesture, grace and honour high.\n\n[4: \"If the grim brood.\" The northern hordes who invaded Rome.]\n\n[5: \"Helice.\" Callistro, and her son Arcas, changed into the\nconstellation of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes.]\n\nSo roved my ken, and in its general form\nAll Paradise survey'd: when round I turn'd\nWith purpose of my lady to inquire\nOnce more of things, that held my thought suspense.\nBut answer found from other than I ween'd;\nFor, Beatrice, when I thought to see,\nI saw instead a senior, at my side,\nRobed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign\nGlow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused,\nWith gestures such as spake a father's love.\nAnd, \"Whither is she vanish'd?\" straight I ask'd.\n\n\"By Beatrice summon'd,\" he replied,\n\"I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft\nTo the third circle from the highest, there\nBehold her on the throne, wherein her merit\nHath placed her.\" Answering not, mine eyes I raised,\nAnd saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow\nA wreath reflecting of eternal beams.\nNot from the centre of the sea so far\nUnto the region of the highest thunder,\nAs was my ken from hers; and yet the form\nCame through that medium down, unmix'd and pure.\n\n\"O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest;\nWho, for my safety, hast not scorn'd, in Hell\nTo leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd;\nfor all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power\nAnd goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave\nThou hast to freedom brought me: and no means,\nFor my deliverance apt, hast left untried.\nThy liberal bounty still toward me keep:\nThat, when my spirit, which thou madest whole,\nIs loosen'd from this body, it may find\nFavour with thee.\" So I my suit preferr'd:\nAnd she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down,\nAnd smiled; then toward the eternal fountain turn'd.\n\nAnd thus the senior, holy and revered:\n\"That thou at length mayst happily conclude\nThy voyage, (to which end I was despatch'd,\nBy supplication moved and holy love),\nLet thy upsoaring vision range, at large,\nThis garden through: for so, by ray divine\nKindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount;\nAnd from Heaven's Queen, whom fervent I adore,\nAll gracious aid befriend us; for that I\nAm her own faithful Bernard.\"[6] Like a wight,\nWho haply from Croatia wends to see\nOur Veronica,[7] and, the while 'tis shown,\nHangs over it with never - sated gaze,\nAnd, all that he hath heard revolving, saith\nUnto himself in thought: \"And didst Thou look\nE'en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God?\nAnd was this semblance Thine?\" So gazed I then\nAdoring; for the charity of him,[8]\nWho musing, in this world that peace enjoy'd,\nStood livelily before me. \"Child of grace!\"\nThus he began: \"Thou shalt not knowledge gain\nOf this glad being, if thine eyes are held\nStill in this depth below. But search around\nThe circles, to the furthest, till thou spy\nSeated in state, the Queen[9] that of this realm\nIs sovran.\" Straight mine eyes I raised; and bright,\nAs, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime\nAbove the horizon, where the sun declines;\nSo to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale\nTo mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part\nExcell'd in lustre all the front opposed.\nAnd as the glow burns ruddiest o'er the wave,\nThat waits the ascending team, which Phaeton\nIll knew to guide, and on each part the light\nDiminish'd fades, intensest in the midst;\nSo burn'd the peaceful oriflame, and slack'd\nOn every side the living flame decay'd.\n\n[6: \"Bernard.\" St. Bernard, the venerable Abbot of Clairvaux, and the\ngreat promoter of the Second Crusade, who died A. D. 1153, in his sixty -\nthird year. He has been termed the last of the fathers of the Church. That the\npart he acts in the present poem should be assigned to him, appears somewhat\nremarkable, when we consider that he severely censured the new festival\nestablished in honor of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, and \"opposed\nthe doctrine itself with the greatest vigor, as it supposed her being honored\nwith a privilege which belonged to Christ alone.\"]\n\n[7: A copy in miniature of the picture of Christ, which is supposed\nto have been miraculously imprinted upon a handkerchief preserved in the\nchurch of St. Peter at Rome.]\n\n[8: \"Him.\" St. Bernard.]\n\n[9: \"The queen.\" The Virgin Mary.]\n\nAnd in that midst their sportive pennons waved\nThousands of Angels; in resplendence each\nDistinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee\nAnd carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven,\nThat joy was in the eyes of all the blest.\n\nHad I a tongue in eloquence as rich,\nAs is the colouring in fancy's loom,\n'Twere all too poor to utter the least part\nOf that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes\nIntent on her, that charm'd him; Bernard gazed\nWith so exceeding fondness, as infused\nArdour into my breast, unfelt before.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 32\n\n\nCanto XXXII\n\nArgument\n\nSt. Bernard shows him, on their several thrones, the other blessed souls,\nof both the Old and New Testament; explains to him that their places are\nassigned them by grace, and not according to merit; and, lastly, tells him\nthat if he would obtain power to descry what remained of the heavenly vision,\nhe must unite with him in supplication to Mary.\n\nFreely the sage, though wrapt in musings high,\nAssumed the teacher's part, and mild began:\n\"The wound, that Mary closed, she[1] open'd first,\nWho sits so beautiful at Mary's feet.\nThe third in order, underneath her, lo!\nRachel with Beatrice: Sarah next;\nJudith; Rebecca; and the gleaner - maid,\nMeek ancestress[2] of him, who sang the songs\nOf sore repentance in his sorrowful mood.\nAll, as I name them, down from leaf to leaf,\nAre, in gradation, throned on the rose.\nAnd from the seventh step, successively,\nAdown the breathing tresses of the flower,\nStill doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed.\nFor these are a partition wall, whereby\nThe sacred stairs are sever'd, as the faith\nIn Christ divides them. On this part, where blooms\nEach leaf in full maturity, are set\nSuch as in Christ, or e'er He came, believed.\nOn the other, where an intersected space\n\n[1: Eve.]\n\n[2: Ruth, the ancestress of David.]\n\nYet shows the semicircle void, abide\nAll they, who look'd to Christ already come\nAnd as our Lady on her glorious stool,\nAnd they who on their stools beneath her sit,\nThis way distinction make; e'en so on his,\nThe mighty Baptist that way marks the line\n(He who endured the desert, and the pains\nOf martyrdom, and, for two years,[3] of Hell,\nYet still continued holy), and beneath,\nAugustin;[4] Francis;[5] Benedict;[6] and the rest,\nThus far from round to round. So Heaven's decree\nForecasts, this garden equally to fill,\nWith faith in either view, past or to come.\nLearn too, that downward from the step, which cleaves,\nMidway, the twain compartments, none there are\nWho place obtain for merit of their own,\nBut have through others' merit been advanced,\nOn set conditions; spirits all released,\nEre for themselves they had the power to chuse.\nAnd, if thou mark and listen to them well,\nTheir childish looks and voice declare as much.\n\n[3: The time that elapsed between the death of the Baptist and his\nredemption by the death of Christ.]\n\n[4: Bishop of Hippo, fourth century. See also Canto x. 117.]\n\n[5: \"Francis.\" See Canto xi.]\n\n[6: \"Benedict.\" See Canto xxii.]\n\n\"Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt;\nAnd gladly will I loose the knot, wherein\nThy subtile thoughts have bound thee. From this realm\nExcluded, chance no entrance here may find;\nNo more than hunger, thirst, or sorrow can.\nA law immutable hath stablish'd all;\nNor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit,\nExactly, as the finger to the ring.\nIt is not, therefore, without cause, that these\nO'erspeedy comers to immortal life,\nAre different in their shares of excellence.\nOur Sovran Lord, that settleth this estate\nIn love and in delight so absolute,\nThat wish can dare no further, every soul,\nCreated in His joyous sight to dwell,\nWith grace, at pleasure, variouslyeendows.\n\nAnd for a proof the effect may well suffice.\nAnd 'tis moreover most expressly mark'd\nIn holy Scripture, where the twins are said\nTo have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as grace\nInweaves the coronet, so every brow\nWeareth its proper hue of orient light.\nAnd merely in respect to his prime gift,\nNot in reward of meritorious deed,\nHath each his several degree assign'd.\nIn early times with their own innocence\nMore was not wanting than the parents' faith,\nTo save them: those first ages past, behoved\nThat circumcision in the males should imp\nThe flight of innocent wings: but since the day\nOf grace hath come, without baptismal rites\nIn Christ accomplish'd, innocence herself\nMust linger yet below. Now raise thy view\nUnto the visage most resembling Christ:\nFor, in her splendour only, shalt thou win\nThe power to look on Him.\" Forthwith I saw\nSuch floods of gladness on her visage shower'd,\nFrom holy spirits, winging that profound;\nThat, whatsoever I had yet beheld,\nHad not so much suspended me with wonder,\nOr shown me such similitude of God.\nAnd he, who had to her descended, once,\nOn earth, now hail'd in Heaven; and on poised wing,\n\"Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena,\" sang:\nTo whose sweet anthem all the blissful court,\nFrom all parts answering, rang: that holier joy\nBrooded the deep serene. \"Father revered!\nWho deign'st, for me, to quit the pleasant place\nWherein thou sittest, by eternal lot;\nSay, who that Angel is, that with such glee\nBeholds our Queen, and so enamour'd glows\nOf her high beauty, that all fire he seems.\"\n\nSo I again resorted to the lore\nOf my wise teacher, he, whom Mary's charms\nEmbellish'd, as the sun the morning star;\nWho thus in answer spake: \"In him are summ'd,\nWhate'er of buxomness and free delight\nMay be in spirit, or in Angel, met:\nAnd so beseems: for that he bare the palm\nDown unto Mary, when the Son of God\nVouchsafed to clothe Him in terrestial weeds.\nNow let thine eyes wait heedful on my words;\nAnd note thou of this just and pious realm\nThe chiefest nobles. Those, highest in bliss,\nThe twain, on each hand next our Empress throned,\nAre as it were two roots unto this rose:\nHe to the left, the parent, whose rash taste\nProves bitter to his seed; and, on the right,\nThat ancient father of the holy Church,\nInto whose keeping Christ did give the keys\nOf this sweet flower; near whom behold the seer,[7]\nThat, ere, he died, saw all the grievous times\nOf the fair bride, who with the lance and nails\nWas won. And, near unto the other, rests\nThe leader, under whom, on manna, fed\nThe ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse.\nOn the other part, facing to Peter, lo!\nWhere Anna sits, so well content to look\nOn her loved daughter, that with moveless eye\nShe chants the loud hosanna: while, opposed\nTo the first father of your mortal kind,\nIs Lucia,[8] at whose hest thy lady sped,\nWhen on the edge of ruin closed thine eye.\n\n[7: St. John.]\n\n[8: See Hell, Canto ii. 97, and Purgatory, Canto ix. 50.]\n\n\"But (for the vision hasteneth to an end)\nHere break we off, as the good workman doth,\nThat shapes the clock according to the cloth;\nAnd to the Primal Love our ken shall rise;\nThat thou mayst penetrate the brightness, far\nAs sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in sooth\nBeating thy pennons, thinking to advance,\nThou backward fall'st. Grace then must first be gain'd;\nHer grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayer\nSeek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue,\nAttend, and yield me all thy heart.\" He said;\nAnd thus the saintly orison began.\n\n\n## Paradise Canto 33\n\n\nCanto XXXIII\n\nArgument\n\nSt. Bernard supplicates the Virgin Mary that Dante may have grace given\nhim to contemplate the brightness of the Divine Majesty, which is accordingly\ngranted; and Dante then himself prays to God for ability to show forth some\npart of the celestial glory in his writings. Lastly, he is admitted to a\nglimpse of the great mystery; the Trinity, and the Union of Man with God.\n\n\"O Virgin Mother, daughter of thy Son!\nCreated beings all in lowliness\nSurpassing, as in height above them all;\nTerm by the eternal counsel pre - ordain'd;\nEnnobler of thy nature, so advanced\nIn thee, that its great Maker did not scorn,\nTo make Himself his own creation;\nFor in thy womb rekindling shone the love\nReveal'd, whose genial influence makes now\nThis flower to germin in eternal peace:\nHere thou to us, of charity and love,\nArt, as the noon - day torch; and art, beneath,\nTo mortal men, of hope a living spring.\nSo mighty art thou, Lady, and so great,\nThat he, who grace desireth, and comes not\nTo thee for aidance, fain would have desire\nFly without wings. Not only him, who asks,\nThy bounty succours; but doth freely oft\nForerun the asking. Whatsoe'er may be\nOf excellence in creature, pity mild,\nRelenting mercy, large munificence,\nAre all combined in thee. Here kneeleth one,\nWho of all spirits hath review'd the state,\nFrom the world's lowest gap unto this height.\nSuppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace\nFor virtue yet more high, to lift his ken\nToward the bliss supreme. And I, who ne'er\nCoveted sight, more fondly, for myself,\nThan now for him, my prayers to thee prefer,\n(And pray they be not scant), that thou wouldst\nEach cloud of his mortality away, [drive\nThrough thine own prayers, that on the sovran joy\nUnveil'd he gaze. This yet, I pray thee, Queen,\nWho canst do what thou wilt; that in him thou\nWouldst, after all he hath beheld, preserve\nAffection sound, and human passions quell.\nLo! where, with Beatrice, many a saint\nStretch their clasp'd hands, in furtherance of my suit.\"\n\nThe eyes, that Heaven with love and awe regards,\nFix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign\nShe looks on pious prayers: then fasten'd they\nOn the everlasting light, wherein no eye\nOf creature, as may well be thought, so far\nCan travel inward. I, meanwhile, who drew\nNear to the limit, where all wishes end,\nThe ardour of my wish (for so behoved)\nEnded within me. Beckoning smiled the sage,\nThat I should look aloft: but, ere he bade,\nAlready of myself aloft I look'd;\nFor visual strength, refining more and more,\nBare me into the ray authentical\nOf sovran light. Thenceforward, what I saw,\nWas not for words to speak, nor memory's self\nTo stand against such outrage on her skill.\n\nAs one, who from a dream awaken'd, straight,\nAll he hath seen forgets; yet still retains\nImpression of the feeling in his dream;\nE'en such am I: for all the vision dies,\nAs 'twere, away; and yet the sense of sweet,\nThat sprang from it, still trickles in my heart.\nThus in the sun - thaw is the snow unseal'd;\nThus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost\nThe Sibyl's sentence. O eternal beam! [soar?]\n(Whose height what reach of mortal thought may\nYield me again some little particle\nOf what Thou then appearedst; give my tongue\nPower, but to leave one sparkle of Thy glory,\nUnto the race to come, that shall not lose\nThy triumph wholly, if Thou waken aught\nOf memory in me, and endure to hear\nThe record sound in this unequal strain.\n\nSuch keenness from the living ray I met,\nThat, if mine eyes had turn'd away, methinks,\nI had been lost; but, so embolden'd, on\nI pass'd, as I remember, till my view\nHover'd the brink of dread infinitude.\n\nO grace, unenvying of Thy boon! that gavest\nBoldness to fix so earnestly my ken\nOn the everlasting splendour, that I look'd,\nWhile sight was unconsumed, and, in that depth,\nSaw in one volume clasp'd of love, whate'er\nThe universe unfolds; all properties\nOf substance and of accident, beheld,\nCompounded, yet one individual light\nThe whole. And of such bond methinks I saw\nThe universal form; for that whene'er\nI do but speak of it, my soul dilates\nBeyond her proper self; and, till I speak,\nOne moment seems a longer lethargy,\nThan five - and - twenty ages had appear'd\nTo that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder\nAt Argo's shadow darkening on his flood.\n\nWith fixed heed, suspense and motionless,\nWondering I gazed; and admiration still\nWas kindled as I gazed. It may not be,\nThat one, who looks upon that light, can turn\nTo other object, willingly, his view.\nFor all the good, that will may covet, there\nIs summ'd; and all, elsewhere defective found,\nComplete. My tongue shall utter now, no more\nE'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's\nThat yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast.\nNot that the semblance of the living light\nWas changed, (that ever as at first remain'd),\nBut that my vision quickening, in that sole\nAppearance, still new miracles descried,\nAnd toil'd me with the change. In that abyss\nOf radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd, methought,\nThree orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound:[1]\nAnd, from another, one reflected seem'd,\n\n[1: \"Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound.\" The Trinity. This\npassage may be compared to what Plato, in his second Epistle, enigmatically\nsays of a first, second, and third, and of the impossibility that the human\nsoul should attain to what it desires to know of them, by means of anything\nakin to itself.]\n\nAs rainbow is from rainbow: and the third\nSeem'd fire, breathed equally from both. O speech!\nHow feeble and how faint art thou, to give\nConception birth. Yet this to what I saw\nIs less than little. O eternal Light!\nSole in Thyself that dwell'st; and of Thyself\nSole understood, past, present, or to come;\nThou smiledst, on that circling,[2] which in Thee\nSeem'd as reflected splendour, while I mused;\nFor I therein, methought, in its own hue\nBeheld our image painted: steadfastly\nI therefore pored upon the view. As one,\nWho versed in geometric lore, would fain\nMeasure the circle; and, though pondering long\nAnd deeply, that beginning, which he needs,\nFinds not: e'en such was I, intent to scan\nThe novel wonder, and trace out the form,\nHow to the circle fitted, and therein\nHow placed: but the flight was not for my wing;\nHad not a flash darted athwart my mind,\nAnd, in the spleen, unfolded what it sought.\n\n[2: \"That circling.\" The second of the circles, \"Light of Light,\" in\nwhich he dimly beheld the mystery of the Incarnation.]\n\nHere vigour fail'd the towering fantasy:\nBut yet the will roll'd onward, like a wheel\nIn even motion, by the Love impell'd,\nThat moves the sun in Heaven and all the stars.",
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