Divine Comedy, H.F. Cary’s Translation, Paradise

Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321

Judith Smith [email protected]

THE VISION OR, HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE OF DANTE ALIGHIERI TRANSLATED BY THE REV. H. F. CARY, A.M.

PARADISE

CANTO I

His glory, by whose might all things are mov’d, Pierces the universe, and in one part Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In heav’n, That largeliest of his light partakes, was I, Witness of things, which to relate again Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence; For that, so near approaching its desire Our intellect is to such depth absorb’d, That memory cannot follow. Nathless all, That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm Could store, shall now be matter of my song.
Benign Apollo! this last labour aid, And make me such a vessel of thy worth, As thy own laurel claims of me belov’d. Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus’ brows Suffic’d me; henceforth there is need of both For my remaining enterprise Do thou Enter into my bosom, and there breathe So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg’d Forth from his limbs unsheath’d. O power divine! If thou to me of shine impart so much, That of that happy realm the shadow’d form Trac’d in my thoughts I may set forth to view, Thou shalt behold me of thy favour’d tree Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves; For to that honour thou, and my high theme Will fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire! To grace his triumph gathers thence a wreath Caesar or bard (more shame for human wills Deprav’d) joy to the Delphic god must spring From the Pierian foliage, when one breast Is with such thirst inspir’d. From a small spark Great flame hath risen: after me perchance Others with better voice may pray, and gain From the Cirrhaean city answer kind.
Through diver passages, the world’s bright lamp Rises to mortals, but through that which joins Four circles with the threefold cross, in best Course, and in happiest constellation set He comes, and to the worldly wax best gives Its temper and impression. Morning there, Here eve was by almost such passage made; And whiteness had o’erspread that hemisphere, Blackness the other part; when to the left I saw Beatrice turn’d, and on the sun Gazing, as never eagle fix’d his ken. As from the first a second beam is wont To issue, and reflected upwards rise, E’en as a pilgrim bent on his return, So of her act, that through the eyesight pass’d Into my fancy, mine was form’d; and straight, Beyond our mortal wont, I fix’d mine eyes Upon the sun. Much is allowed us there, That here exceeds our pow’r; thanks to the place Made for the dwelling of the human kind
I suffer’d it not long, and yet so long That I beheld it bick’ring sparks around, As iron that comes boiling from the fire. And suddenly upon the day appear’d A day new-ris’n, as he, who hath the power, Had with another sun bedeck’d the sky.
Her eyes fast fix’d on the eternal wheels, Beatrice stood unmov’d; and I with ken Fix’d upon her, from upward gaze remov’d At her aspect, such inwardly became As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb, That made him peer among the ocean gods; Words may not tell of that transhuman change: And therefore let the example serve, though weak, For those whom grace hath better proof in store
If I were only what thou didst create, Then newly, Love! by whom the heav’n is rul’d, Thou know’st, who by thy light didst bear me up. Whenas the wheel which thou dost ever guide, Desired Spirit! with its harmony Temper’d of thee and measur’d, charm’d mine ear, Then seem’d to me so much of heav’n to blaze With the sun’s flame, that rain or flood ne’er made A lake so broad. The newness of the sound, And that great light, inflam’d me with desire, Keener than e’er was felt, to know their cause.
Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself, To calm my troubled mind, before I ask’d, Open’d her lips, and gracious thus began: "With false imagination thou thyself Mak’st dull, so that thou seest not the thing, Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off. Thou art not on the earth as thou believ’st; For light’ning scap’d from its own proper place Ne’er ran, as thou hast hither now return’d."
Although divested of my first-rais’d doubt, By those brief words, accompanied with smiles, Yet in new doubt was I entangled more, And said: "Already satisfied, I rest From admiration deep, but now admire How I above those lighter bodies rise."
Whence, after utt’rance of a piteous sigh, She tow’rds me bent her eyes, with such a look, As on her frenzied child a mother casts; Then thus began: "Among themselves all things Have order; and from hence the form, which makes The universe resemble God. In this The higher creatures see the printed steps Of that eternal worth, which is the end Whither the line is drawn. All natures lean, In this their order, diversely, some more, Some less approaching to their primal source. Thus they to different havens are mov’d on Through the vast sea of being, and each one With instinct giv’n, that bears it in its course; This to the lunar sphere directs the fire, This prompts the hearts of mortal animals, This the brute earth together knits, and binds. Nor only creatures, void of intellect, Are aim’d at by this bow; hut even those, That have intelligence and love, are pierc’d. That Providence, who so well orders all, With her own light makes ever calm the heaven, In which the substance, that hath greatest speed, Is turn’d: and thither now, as to our seat Predestin’d, we are carried by the force Of that strong cord, that never looses dart, But at fair aim and glad. Yet is it true, That as ofttimes but ill accords the form To the design of art, through sluggishness Of unreplying matter, so this course Is sometimes quitted by the creature, who Hath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere; As from a cloud the fire is seen to fall, From its original impulse warp’d, to earth, By vicious fondness. Thou no more admire Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem,) than lapse Of torrent downwards from a mountain’s height. There would in thee for wonder be more cause, If, free of hind’rance, thou hadst fix’d thyself Below, like fire unmoving on the earth."
So said, she turn’d toward the heav’n her face.

CANTO II

All ye, who in small bark have following sail’d, Eager to listen, on the advent’rous track Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way, Backward return with speed, and your own shores Revisit, nor put out to open sea, Where losing me, perchance ye may remain Bewilder’d in deep maze. The way I pass Ne’er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale, Apollo guides me, and another Nine To my rapt sight the arctic beams reveal. Ye other few, who have outstretch’d the neck. Timely for food of angels, on which here They live, yet never know satiety, Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out Your vessel, marking, well the furrow broad Before you in the wave, that on both sides Equal returns. Those, glorious, who pass’d o’er To Colchos, wonder’d not as ye will do, When they saw Jason following the plough.
The increate perpetual thirst, that draws Toward the realm of God’s own form, bore us Swift almost as the heaven ye behold.
Beatrice upward gaz’d, and I on her, And in such space as on the notch a dart Is plac’d, then loosen’d flies, I saw myself Arriv’d, where wond’rous thing engag’d my sight. Whence she, to whom no work of mine was hid, Turning to me, with aspect glad as fair, Bespake me: "Gratefully direct thy mind To God, through whom to this first star we come."
Me seem’d as if a cloud had cover’d us, Translucent, solid, firm, and polish’d bright, Like adamant, which the sun’s beam had smit Within itself the ever-during pearl Receiv’d us, as the wave a ray of light Receives, and rests unbroken. If I then Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus Another could endure, which needs must be If body enter body, how much more Must the desire inflame us to behold That essence, which discovers by what means God and our nature join’d! There will be seen That which we hold through faith, not shown by proof, But in itself intelligibly plain, E’en as the truth that man at first believes.
I answered: "Lady! I with thoughts devout, Such as I best can frame, give thanks to Him, Who hath remov’d me from the mortal world. But tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots Upon this body, which below on earth Give rise to talk of Cain in fabling quaint?"
She somewhat smil’d, then spake: "If mortals err In their opinion, when the key of sense Unlocks not, surely wonder’s weapon keen Ought not to pierce thee; since thou find’st, the wings Of reason to pursue the senses’ flight Are short. But what thy own thought is, declare."
Then I: "What various here above appears, Is caus’d, I deem, by bodies dense or rare."
She then resum’d: "Thou certainly wilt see In falsehood thy belief o’erwhelm’d, if well Thou listen to the arguments, which I Shall bring to face it. The eighth sphere displays Numberless lights, the which in kind and size May be remark’d of different aspects; If rare or dense of that were cause alone, One single virtue then would be in all, Alike distributed, or more, or less. Different virtues needs must be the fruits Of formal principles, and these, save one, Will by thy reasoning be destroy’d. Beside, If rarity were of that dusk the cause, Which thou inquirest, either in some part That planet must throughout be void, nor fed With its own matter; or, as bodies share Their fat and leanness, in like manner this Must in its volume change the leaves. The first, If it were true, had through the sun’s eclipse Been manifested, by transparency Of light, as through aught rare beside effus’d. But this is not. Therefore remains to see The other cause: and if the other fall, Erroneous so must prove what seem’d to thee. If not from side to side this rarity Pass through, there needs must be a limit, whence Its contrary no further lets it pass. And hence the beam, that from without proceeds, Must be pour’d back, as colour comes, through glass Reflected, which behind it lead conceals. Now wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue Than in the other part the ray is shown, By being thence refracted farther back. From this perplexity will free thee soon Experience, if thereof thou trial make, The fountain whence your arts derive their streame. Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove From thee alike, and more remote the third. Betwixt the former pair, shall meet thine eyes; Then turn’d toward them, cause behind thy back A light to stand, that on the three shall shine, And thus reflected come to thee from all. Though that beheld most distant do not stretch A space so ample, yet in brightness thou Will own it equaling the rest. But now, As under snow the ground, if the warm ray Smites it, remains dismantled of the hue And cold, that cover’d it before, so thee, Dismantled in thy mind, I will inform With light so lively, that the tremulous beam Shall quiver where it falls. Within the heaven, Where peace divine inhabits, circles round A body, in whose virtue dies the being Of all that it contains. The following heaven, That hath so many lights, this being divides, Through different essences, from it distinct, And yet contain’d within it. The other orbs Their separate distinctions variously Dispose, for their own seed and produce apt. Thus do these organs of the world proceed, As thou beholdest now, from step to step, Their influences from above deriving, And thence transmitting downwards. Mark me well, How through this passage to the truth I ford, The truth thou lov’st, that thou henceforth alone, May’st know to keep the shallows, safe, untold.
"The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs, As mallet by the workman’s hand, must needs By blessed movers be inspir’d. This heaven, Made beauteous by so many luminaries, From the deep spirit, that moves its circling sphere, Its image takes an impress as a seal: And as the soul, that dwells within your dust, Through members different, yet together form’d, In different pow’rs resolves itself; e’en so The intellectual efficacy unfolds Its goodness multiplied throughout the stars; On its own unity revolving still. Different virtue compact different Makes with the precious body it enlivens, With which it knits, as life in you is knit. From its original nature full of joy, The virtue mingled through the body shines, As joy through pupil of the living eye. From hence proceeds, that which from light to light Seems different, and not from dense or rare. This is the formal cause, that generates Proportion’d to its power, the dusk or clear."

CANTO III

That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm’d Had of fair truth unveil’d the sweet aspect, By proof of right, and of the false reproof; And I, to own myself convinc’d and free Of doubt, as much as needed, rais’d my head Erect for speech. But soon a sight appear’d, Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix’d, That of confession I no longer thought.
As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave Clear and unmov’d, and flowing not so deep As that its bed is dark, the shape returns So faint of our impictur’d lineaments, That on white forehead set a pearl as strong Comes to the eye: such saw I many a face, All stretch’d to speak, from whence I straight conceiv’d Delusion opposite to that, which rais’d Between the man and fountain, amorous flame.
Sudden, as I perceiv’d them, deeming these Reflected semblances to see of whom They were, I turn’d mine eyes, and nothing saw; Then turn’d them back, directed on the light Of my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beams From her celestial eyes. "Wonder not thou," She cry’d, "at this my smiling, when I see Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont, Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy. True substances are these, which thou behold’st, Hither through failure of their vow exil’d. But speak thou with them; listen, and believe, That the true light, which fills them with desire, Permits not from its beams their feet to stray."
Straight to the shadow which for converse seem’d Most earnest, I addressed me, and began, As one by over-eagerness perplex’d: "O spirit, born for joy! who in the rays Of life eternal, of that sweetness know’st The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far All apprehension, me it well would please, If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this Your station here." Whence she, with kindness prompt, And eyes glist’ning with smiles: "Our charity, To any wish by justice introduc’d, Bars not the door, no more than she above, Who would have all her court be like herself. I was a virgin sister in the earth; And if thy mind observe me well, this form, With such addition grac’d of loveliness, Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt know Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac’d, Here ’mid these other blessed also blest. Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone With pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv’d, Admitted to his order dwell in joy. And this condition, which appears so low, Is for this cause assign’d us, that our vows Were in some part neglected and made void."
Whence I to her replied: "Something divine Beams in your countenance, wond’rous fair, From former knowledge quite transmuting you. Therefore to recollect was I so slow. But what thou sayst hath to my memory Given now such aid, that to retrace your forms Is easier. Yet inform me, ye, who here Are happy, long ye for a higher place More to behold, and more in love to dwell?"
She with those other spirits gently smil’d, Then answer’d with such gladness, that she seem’d With love’s first flame to glow: "Brother! our will Is in composure settled by the power Of charity, who makes us will alone What we possess, and nought beyond desire; If we should wish to be exalted more, Then must our wishes jar with the high will Of him, who sets us here, which in these orbs Thou wilt confess not possible, if here To be in charity must needs befall, And if her nature well thou contemplate. Rather it is inherent in this state Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within The divine will, by which our wills with his Are one. So that as we from step to step Are plac’d throughout this kingdom, pleases all, E’en as our King, who in us plants his will; And in his will is our tranquillity; It is the mighty ocean, whither tends Whatever it creates and nature makes."
Then saw I clearly how each spot in heav’n Is Paradise, though with like gracious dew The supreme virtue show’r not over all.
But as it chances, if one sort of food Hath satiated, and of another still The appetite remains, that this is ask’d, And thanks for that return’d; e’en so did I In word and motion, bent from her to learn What web it was, through which she had not drawn The shuttle to its point. She thus began: "Exalted worth and perfectness of life The Lady higher up enshrine in heaven, By whose pure laws upon your nether earth The robe and veil they wear, to that intent, That e’en till death they may keep watch or sleep With their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow, Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms. from the world, to follow her, when young Escap’d; and, in her vesture mantling me, Made promise of the way her sect enjoins. Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt, Forth snatch’d me from the pleasant cloister’s pale. God knows how after that my life was fram’d. This other splendid shape, which thou beholdst At my right side, burning with all the light Of this our orb, what of myself I tell May to herself apply. From her, like me A sister, with like violence were torn The saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows. E’en when she to the world again was brought In spite of her own will and better wont, Yet not for that the bosom’s inward veil Did she renounce. This is the luminary Of mighty Constance, who from that loud blast, Which blew the second over Suabia’s realm, That power produc’d, which was the third and last."
She ceas’d from further talk, and then began "Ave Maria" singing, and with that song Vanish’d, as heavy substance through deep wave.
Mine eye, that far as it was capable, Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost, Turn’d to the mark where greater want impell’d, And bent on Beatrice all its gaze. But she as light’ning beam’d upon my looks: So that the sight sustain’d it not at first. Whence I to question her became less prompt.

CANTO IV

Between two kinds of food, both equally Remote and tempting, first a man might die Of hunger, ere he one could freely choose. E’en so would stand a lamb between the maw Of two fierce wolves, in dread of both alike: E’en so between two deer a dog would stand, Wherefore, if I was silent, fault nor praise I to myself impute, by equal doubts Held in suspense, since of necessity It happen’d. Silent was I, yet desire Was painted in my looks; and thus I spake My wish more earnestly than language could.
As Daniel, when the haughty king he freed From ire, that spurr’d him on to deeds unjust And violent; so look’d Beatrice then.
"Well I discern," she thus her words address’d, "How contrary desires each way constrain thee, So that thy anxious thought is in itself Bound up and stifled, nor breathes freely forth. Thou arguest; if the good intent remain; What reason that another’s violence Should stint the measure of my fair desert?
"Cause too thou findst for doubt, in that it seems, That spirits to the stars, as Plato deem’d, Return. These are the questions which thy will Urge equally; and therefore I the first Of that will treat which hath the more of gall. Of seraphim he who is most ensky’d, Moses and Samuel, and either John, Choose which thou wilt, nor even Mary’s self, Have not in any other heav’n their seats, Than have those spirits which so late thou saw’st; Nor more or fewer years exist; but all Make the first circle beauteous, diversely Partaking of sweet life, as more or less Afflation of eternal bliss pervades them. Here were they shown thee, not that fate assigns This for their sphere, but for a sign to thee Of that celestial furthest from the height. Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak: Since from things sensible alone ye learn That, which digested rightly after turns To intellectual. For no other cause The scripture, condescending graciously To your perception, hands and feet to God Attributes, nor so means: and holy church Doth represent with human countenance Gabriel, and Michael, and him who made Tobias whole. Unlike what here thou seest, The judgment of Timaeus, who affirms Each soul restor’d to its particular star, Believing it to have been taken thence, When nature gave it to inform her mold: Since to appearance his intention is E’en what his words declare: or else to shun Derision, haply thus he hath disguis’d His true opinion. If his meaning be, That to the influencing of these orbs revert The honour and the blame in human acts, Perchance he doth not wholly miss the truth. This principle, not understood aright, Erewhile perverted well nigh all the world; So that it fell to fabled names of Jove, And Mercury, and Mars. That other doubt, Which moves thee, is less harmful; for it brings No peril of removing thee from me.
"That, to the eye of man, our justice seems Unjust, is argument for faith, and not For heretic declension. To the end This truth may stand more clearly in your view, I will content thee even to thy wish
"If violence be, when that which suffers, nought Consents to that which forceth, not for this These spirits stood exculpate. For the will, That will not, still survives unquench’d, and doth As nature doth in fire, tho’ violence Wrest it a thousand times; for, if it yield Or more or less, so far it follows force. And thus did these, whom they had power to seek The hallow’d place again. In them, had will Been perfect, such as once upon the bars Held Laurence firm, or wrought in Scaevola To his own hand remorseless, to the path, Whence they were drawn, their steps had hasten’d back, When liberty return’d: but in too few Resolve so steadfast dwells. And by these words If duly weigh’d, that argument is void, Which oft might have perplex’d thee still. But now Another question thwarts thee, which to solve Might try thy patience without better aid. I have, no doubt, instill’d into thy mind, That blessed spirit may not lie; since near The source of primal truth it dwells for aye: And thou might’st after of Piccarda learn That Constance held affection to the veil; So that she seems to contradict me here. Not seldom, brother, it hath chanc’d for men To do what they had gladly left undone, Yet to shun peril they have done amiss: E’en as Alcmaeon, at his father’s suit Slew his own mother, so made pitiless Not to lose pity. On this point bethink thee, That force and will are blended in such wise As not to make the’ offence excusable. Absolute will agrees not to the wrong, That inasmuch as there is fear of woe From non-compliance, it agrees. Of will Thus absolute Piccarda spake, and I Of th’ other; so that both have truly said."
Such was the flow of that pure rill, that well’d From forth the fountain of all truth; and such The rest, that to my wond’ring thoughts l found.
"O thou of primal love the prime delight! Goddess! "I straight reply’d, "whose lively words Still shed new heat and vigour through my soul! Affection fails me to requite thy grace With equal sum of gratitude: be his To recompense, who sees and can reward thee. Well I discern, that by that truth alone Enlighten’d, beyond which no truth may roam, Our mind can satisfy her thirst to know: Therein she resteth, e’en as in his lair The wild beast, soon as she hath reach’d that bound, And she hath power to reach it; else desire Were given to no end. And thence doth doubt Spring, like a shoot, around the stock of truth; And it is nature which from height to height On to the summit prompts us. This invites, This doth assure me, lady, rev’rently To ask thee of other truth, that yet Is dark to me. I fain would know, if man By other works well done may so supply The failure of his vows, that in your scale They lack not weight." I spake; and on me straight Beatrice look’d with eyes that shot forth sparks Of love celestial in such copious stream, That, virtue sinking in me overpower’d, I turn’d, and downward bent confus’d my sight.

CANTO V

"If beyond earthly wont, the flame of love Illume me, so that I o’ercome thy power Of vision, marvel not: but learn the cause In that perfection of the sight, which soon As apprehending, hasteneth on to reach The good it apprehends. I well discern, How in thine intellect already shines The light eternal, which to view alone Ne’er fails to kindle love; and if aught else Your love seduces, ’t is but that it shows Some ill-mark’d vestige of that primal beam.
"This would’st thou know, if failure of the vow By other service may be so supplied, As from self-question to assure the soul."
Thus she her words, not heedless of my wish, Began; and thus, as one who breaks not off Discourse, continued in her saintly strain. "Supreme of gifts, which God creating gave Of his free bounty, sign most evident Of goodness, and in his account most priz’d, Was liberty of will, the boon wherewith All intellectual creatures, and them sole He hath endow’d. Hence now thou mayst infer Of what high worth the vow, which so is fram’d That when man offers, God well-pleas’d accepts; For in the compact between God and him, This treasure, such as I describe it to thee, He makes the victim, and of his own act. What compensation therefore may he find? If that, whereof thou hast oblation made, By using well thou think’st to consecrate, Thou would’st of theft do charitable deed. Thus I resolve thee of the greater point.
"But forasmuch as holy church, herein Dispensing, seems to contradict the truth I have discover’d to thee, yet behooves Thou rest a little longer at the board, Ere the crude aliment, which thou hast taken, Digested fitly to nutrition turn. Open thy mind to what I now unfold, And give it inward keeping. Knowledge comes Of learning well retain’d, unfruitful else.
"This sacrifice in essence of two things Consisteth; one is that, whereof ’t is made, The covenant the other. For the last, It ne’er is cancell’d if not kept: and hence I spake erewhile so strictly of its force. For this it was enjoin’d the Israelites, Though leave were giv’n them, as thou know’st, to change The offering, still to offer. Th’ other part, The matter and the substance of the vow, May well be such, to that without offence It may for other substance be exchang’d. But at his own discretion none may shift The burden on his shoulders, unreleas’d By either key, the yellow and the white. Nor deem of any change, as less than vain, If the last bond be not within the new Included, as the quatre in the six. No satisfaction therefore can be paid For what so precious in the balance weighs, That all in counterpoise must kick the beam. Take then no vow at random: ta’en, with faith Preserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once, Blindly to execute a rash resolve, Whom better it had suited to exclaim, ’1 have done ill,’ than to redeem his pledge By doing worse or, not unlike to him In folly, that great leader of the Greeks: Whence, on the alter, Iphigenia mourn’d Her virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn Both wise and simple, even all, who hear Of so fell sacrifice. Be ye more staid, O Christians, not, like feather, by each wind Removable: nor think to cleanse ourselves In every water. Either testament, The old and new, is yours: and for your guide The shepherd of the church let this suffice To save you. When by evil lust entic’d, Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts; Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets, Hold you in mock’ry. Be not, as the lamb, That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother’s milk, To dally with itself in idle play."
Such were the words that Beatrice spake: These ended, to that region, where the world Is liveliest, full of fond desire she turn’d.
Though mainly prompt new question to propose, Her silence and chang’d look did keep me dumb. And as the arrow, ere the cord is still, Leapeth unto its mark; so on we sped Into the second realm. There I beheld The dame, so joyous enter, that the orb Grew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star Were mov’d to gladness, what then was my cheer, Whom nature hath made apt for every change!
As in a quiet and clear lake the fish, If aught approach them from without, do draw Towards it, deeming it their food; so drew Full more than thousand splendours towards us, And in each one was heard: "Lo! one arriv’d To multiply our loves!" and as each came The shadow, streaming forth effulgence new, Witness’d augmented joy. Here, reader! think, If thou didst miss the sequel of my tale, To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave; And thou shalt see what vehement desire Possess’d me, as soon as these had met my view, To know their state. "O born in happy hour! Thou to whom grace vouchsafes, or ere thy close Of fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones Of that eternal triumph, know to us The light communicated, which through heaven Expatiates without bound. Therefore, if aught Thou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid, Spare not; and of our radiance take thy fill."
Thus of those piteous spirits one bespake me; And Beatrice next: "Say on; and trust As unto gods!" —"How in the light supreme Thou harbour’st, and from thence the virtue bring’st, That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy, l mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek; Or wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot This sphere assign’d, that oft from mortal ken Is veil’d by others’ beams." I said, and turn’d Toward the lustre, that with greeting, kind Erewhile had hail’d me. Forthwith brighter far Than erst, it wax’d: and, as himself the sun Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey’d; Within its proper ray the saintly shape Was, through increase of gladness, thus conceal’d; And, shrouded so in splendour answer’d me, E’en as the tenour of my song declares.

CANTO VI

"After that Constantine the eagle turn’d Against the motions of the heav’n, that roll’d Consenting with its course, when he of yore, Lavinia’s spouse, was leader of the flight, A hundred years twice told and more, his seat At Europe’s extreme point, the bird of Jove Held, near the mountains, whence he issued first. There, under shadow of his sacred plumes Swaying the world, till through successive hands To mine he came devolv’d. Caesar I was, And am Justinian; destin’d by the will Of that prime love, whose influence I feel, From vain excess to clear th’ encumber’d laws. Or ere that work engag’d me, I did hold Christ’s nature merely human, with such faith Contented. But the blessed Agapete, Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice To the true faith recall’d me. I believ’d His words: and what he taught, now plainly see, As thou in every contradiction seest The true and false oppos’d. Soon as my feet Were to the church reclaim’d, to my great task, By inspiration of God’s grace impell’d, I gave me wholly, and consign’d mine arms To Belisarius, with whom heaven’s right hand Was link’d in such conjointment, ’t was a sign That I should rest. To thy first question thus I shape mine answer, which were ended here, But that its tendency doth prompt perforce To some addition; that thou well, mayst mark What reason on each side they have to plead, By whom that holiest banner is withstood, Both who pretend its power and who oppose.
"Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died To give it rule, behold the valorous deeds Have made it worthy reverence. Not unknown To thee, how for three hundred years and more It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists Where for its sake were met the rival three; Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev’d Down to the Sabines’ wrong to Lucrece’ woe, With its sev’n kings conqu’ring the nation round; Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home ’Gainst Brennus and th’ Epirot prince, and hosts Of single chiefs, or states in league combin’d Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern, And Quintius nam’d of his neglected locks, The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir’d Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm. By it the pride of Arab hordes was quell’d, When they led on by Hannibal o’erpass’d The Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po! Beneath its guidance, in their prime of days Scipio and Pompey triumph’d; and that hill, Under whose summit thou didst see the light, Rued its stern bearing. After, near the hour, When heav’n was minded that o’er all the world His own deep calm should brood, to Caesar’s hand Did Rome consign it; and what then it wrought From Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere’s flood, Saw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills The torrent Rhone. What after that it wrought, When from Ravenna it came forth, and leap’d The Rubicon, was of so bold a flight, That tongue nor pen may follow it. Tow’rds Spain It wheel’d its bands, then tow’rd Dyrrachium smote, And on Pharsalia with so fierce a plunge, E’en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang; Its native shores Antandros, and the streams Of Simois revisited, and there Where Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy His pennons shook again; lightning thence fell On Juba; and the next upon your west, At sound of the Pompeian trump, return’d.
"What following and in its next bearer’s gripe It wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus Bark’d off in hell, and by Perugia’s sons And Modena’s was mourn’d. Hence weepeth still Sad Cleopatra, who, pursued by it, Took from the adder black and sudden death. With him it ran e’en to the Red Sea coast; With him compos’d the world to such a peace, That of his temple Janus barr’d the door.
"But all the mighty standard yet had wrought, And was appointed to perform thereafter, Throughout the mortal kingdom which it sway’d, Falls in appearance dwindled and obscur’d, If one with steady eye and perfect thought On the third Caesar look; for to his hands, The living Justice, in whose breath I move, Committed glory, e’en into his hands, To execute the vengeance of its wrath.
"Hear now and wonder at what next I tell. After with Titus it was sent to wreak Vengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin, And, when the Lombard tooth, with fangs impure, Did gore the bosom of the holy church, Under its wings victorious, Charlemagne Sped to her rescue. Judge then for thyself Of those, whom I erewhile accus’d to thee, What they are, and how grievous their offending, Who are the cause of all your ills. The one Against the universal ensign rears The yellow lilies, and with partial aim That to himself the other arrogates: So that ’t is hard to see which more offends. Be yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your arts Beneath another standard: ill is this Follow’d of him, who severs it and justice: And let not with his Guelphs the new-crown’d Charles Assail it, but those talons hold in dread, Which from a lion of more lofty port Have rent the easing. Many a time ere now The sons have for the sire’s transgression wail’d; Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav’n Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.
"This little star is furnish’d with good spirits, Whose mortal lives were busied to that end, That honour and renown might wait on them: And, when desires thus err in their intention, True love must needs ascend with slacker beam. But it is part of our delight, to measure Our wages with the merit; and admire The close proportion. Hence doth heav’nly justice Temper so evenly affection in us, It ne’er can warp to any wrongfulness. Of diverse voices is sweet music made: So in our life the different degrees Render sweet harmony among these wheels.
"Within the pearl, that now encloseth us, Shines Romeo’s light, whose goodly deed and fair Met ill acceptance. But the Provencals, That were his foes, have little cause for mirth. Ill shapes that man his course, who makes his wrong Of other’s worth. Four daughters were there born To Raymond Berenger, and every one Became a queen; and this for him did Romeo, Though of mean state and from a foreign land. Yet envious tongues incited him to ask A reckoning of that just one, who return’d Twelve fold to him for ten. Aged and poor He parted thence: and if the world did know The heart he had, begging his life by morsels, ’T would deem the praise, it yields him, scantly dealt."

CANTO VII

"Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth Superillustrans claritate tua Felices ignes horum malahoth!" Thus chanting saw I turn that substance bright With fourfold lustre to its orb again, Revolving; and the rest unto their dance With it mov’d also; and like swiftest sparks, In sudden distance from my sight were veil’d.
Me doubt possess’d, and "Speak," it whisper’d me, "Speak, speak unto thy lady, that she quench Thy thirst with drops of sweetness." Yet blank awe, Which lords it o’er me, even at the sound Of Beatrice’s name, did bow me down As one in slumber held. Not long that mood Beatrice suffer’d: she, with such a smile, As might have made one blest amid the flames, Beaming upon me, thus her words began: "Thou in thy thought art pond’ring (as I deem, And what I deem is truth how just revenge Could be with justice punish’d: from which doubt I soon will free thee; so thou mark my words; For they of weighty matter shall possess thee.
"That man, who was unborn, himself condemn’d, And, in himself, all, who since him have liv’d, His offspring: whence, below, the human kind Lay sick in grievous error many an age; Until it pleas’d the Word of God to come Amongst them down, to his own person joining The nature, from its Maker far estrang’d, By the mere act of his eternal love. Contemplate here the wonder I unfold. The nature with its Maker thus conjoin’d, Created first was blameless, pure and good; But through itself alone was driven forth From Paradise, because it had eschew’d The way of truth and life, to evil turn’d. Ne’er then was penalty so just as that Inflicted by the cross, if thou regard The nature in assumption doom’d: ne’er wrong So great, in reference to him, who took Such nature on him, and endur’d the doom. God therefore and the Jews one sentence pleased: So different effects flow’d from one act, And heav’n was open’d, though the earth did quake. Count it not hard henceforth, when thou dost hear That a just vengeance was by righteous court Justly reveng’d. But yet I see thy mind By thought on thought arising sore perplex’d, And with how vehement desire it asks Solution of the maze. What I have heard, Is plain, thou sayst: but wherefore God this way For our redemption chose, eludes my search.
"Brother! no eye of man not perfected, Nor fully ripen’d in the flame of love, May fathom this decree. It is a mark, In sooth, much aim’d at, and but little kenn’d: And I will therefore show thee why such way Was worthiest. The celestial love, that spume All envying in its bounty, in itself With such effulgence blazeth, as sends forth All beauteous things eternal. What distils Immediate thence, no end of being knows, Bearing its seal immutably impress’d. Whatever thence immediate falls, is free, Free wholly, uncontrollable by power Of each thing new: by such conformity More grateful to its author, whose bright beams, Though all partake their shining, yet in those Are liveliest, which resemble him the most. These tokens of pre-eminence on man Largely bestow’d, if any of them fail, He needs must forfeit his nobility, No longer stainless. Sin alone is that, Which doth disfranchise him, and make unlike To the chief good; for that its light in him Is darken’d. And to dignity thus lost Is no return; unless, where guilt makes void, He for ill pleasure pay with equal pain. Your nature, which entirely in its seed Trangress’d, from these distinctions fell, no less Than from its state in Paradise; nor means Found of recovery (search all methods out As strickly as thou may) save one of these, The only fords were left through which to wade, Either that God had of his courtesy Releas’d him merely, or else man himself For his own folly by himself aton’d.
"Fix now thine eye, intently as thou canst, On th’ everlasting counsel, and explore, Instructed by my words, the dread abyss.
"Man in himself had ever lack’d the means Of satisfaction, for he could not stoop Obeying, in humility so low, As high he, disobeying, thought to soar: And for this reason he had vainly tried Out of his own sufficiency to pay The rigid satisfaction. Then behooved That God should by his own ways lead him back Unto the life, from whence he fell, restor’d: By both his ways, I mean, or one alone. But since the deed is ever priz’d the more, The more the doer’s good intent appears, Goodness celestial, whose broad signature Is on the universe, of all its ways To raise ye up, was fain to leave out none, Nor aught so vast or so magnificent, Either for him who gave or who receiv’d Between the last night and the primal day, Was or can be. For God more bounty show’d. Giving himself to make man capable Of his return to life, than had the terms Been mere and unconditional release. And for his justice, every method else Were all too scant, had not the Son of God Humbled himself to put on mortal flesh.
"Now, to fulfil each wish of thine, remains I somewhat further to thy view unfold. That thou mayst see as clearly as myself.
"I see, thou sayst, the air, the fire I see, The earth and water, and all things of them Compounded, to corruption turn, and soon Dissolve. Yet these were also things create, Because, if what were told me, had been true They from corruption had been therefore free.
"The angels, O my brother! and this clime Wherein thou art, impassible and pure, I call created, as indeed they are In their whole being. But the elements, Which thou hast nam’d, and what of them is made, Are by created virtue’ inform’d: create Their substance, and create the’ informing virtue In these bright stars, that round them circling move The soul of every brute and of each plant, The ray and motion of the sacred lights, With complex potency attract and turn. But this our life the’ eternal good inspires Immediate, and enamours of itself; So that our wishes rest for ever here.
"And hence thou mayst by inference conclude Our resurrection certain, if thy mind Consider how the human flesh was fram’d, When both our parents at the first were made."

CANTO VIII

The world was in its day of peril dark Wont to believe the dotage of fond love From the fair Cyprian deity, who rolls In her third epicycle, shed on men By stream of potent radiance: therefore they Of elder time, in their old error blind, Not her alone with sacrifice ador’d And invocation, but like honours paid To Cupid and Dione, deem’d of them Her mother, and her son, him whom they feign’d To sit in Dido’s bosom: and from her, Whom I have sung preluding, borrow’d they The appellation of that star, which views, Now obvious and now averse, the sun.
I was not ware that I was wafted up Into its orb; but the new loveliness That grac’d my lady, gave me ample proof That we had entered there. And as in flame A sparkle is distinct, or voice in voice Discern’d, when one its even tenour keeps, The other comes and goes; so in that light I other luminaries saw, that cours’d In circling motion. rapid more or less, As their eternal phases each impels.
Never was blast from vapour charged with cold, Whether invisible to eye or no, Descended with such speed, it had not seem’d To linger in dull tardiness, compar’d To those celestial lights, that tow’rds us came, Leaving the circuit of their joyous ring, Conducted by the lofty seraphim. And after them, who in the van appear’d, Such an hosanna sounded, as hath left Desire, ne’er since extinct in me, to hear Renew’d the strain. Then parting from the rest One near us drew, and sole began: "We all Are ready at thy pleasure, well dispos’d To do thee gentle service. We are they, To whom thou in the world erewhile didst Sing ’O ye! whose intellectual ministry Moves the third heaven!’ and in one orb we roll, One motion, one impulse, with those who rule Princedoms in heaven; yet are of love so full, That to please thee ’t will be as sweet to rest."
After mine eyes had with meek reverence Sought the celestial guide, and were by her Assur’d, they turn’d again unto the light Who had so largely promis’d, and with voice That bare the lively pressure of my zeal, "Tell who ye are," I cried. Forthwith it grew In size and splendour, through augmented joy; And thus it answer’d: "A short date below The world possess’d me. Had the time been more, Much evil, that will come, had never chanc’d. My gladness hides thee from me, which doth shine . Around, and shroud me, as an animal In its own silk unswath’d. Thou lov’dst me well, And had’st good cause; for had my sojourning Been longer on the earth, the love I bare thee Had put forth more than blossoms. The left bank, That Rhone, when he hath mix’d with Sorga, laves. In me its lord expected, and that horn Of fair Ausonia, with its boroughs old, Bari, and Croton, and Gaeta pil’d, From where the Trento disembogues his waves, With Verde mingled, to the salt sea-flood. Already on my temples beam’d the crown, Which gave me sov’reignty over the land By Danube wash’d, whenas he strays beyond The limits of his German shores. The realm, Where, on the gulf by stormy Eurus lash’d, Betwixt Pelorus and Pachynian heights, The beautiful Trinacria lies in gloom (Not through Typhaeus, but the vap’ry cloud Bituminous upsteam’d), THAT too did look To have its scepter wielded by a race Of monarchs, sprung through me from Charles and Rodolph; had not ill lording which doth spirit up The people ever, in Palermo rais’d The shout of ’death,’ re-echo’d loud and long. Had but my brother’s foresight kenn’d as much, He had been warier that the greedy want Of Catalonia might not work his bale. And truly need there is, that he forecast, Or other for him, lest more freight be laid On his already over-laden bark. Nature in him, from bounty fall’n to thrift, Would ask the guard of braver arms, than such As only care to have their coffers fill’d."
"My liege, it doth enhance the joy thy words Infuse into me, mighty as it is, To think my gladness manifest to thee, As to myself, who own it, when thou lookst Into the source and limit of all good, There, where thou markest that which thou dost speak, Thence priz’d of me the more. Glad thou hast made me. Now make intelligent, clearing the doubt Thy speech hath raised in me; for much I muse, How bitter can spring up, when sweet is sown."
I thus inquiring; he forthwith replied: "If I have power to show one truth, soon that Shall face thee, which thy questioning declares Behind thee now conceal’d. The Good, that guides And blessed makes this realm, which thou dost mount, Ordains its providence to be the virtue In these great bodies: nor th’ all perfect Mind Upholds their nature merely, but in them Their energy to save: for nought, that lies Within the range of that unerring bow, But is as level with the destin’d aim, As ever mark to arrow’s point oppos’d. Were it not thus, these heavens, thou dost visit, Would their effect so work, it would not be Art, but destruction; and this may not chance, If th’ intellectual powers, that move these stars, Fail not, or who, first faulty made them fail. Wilt thou this truth more clearly evidenc’d?"
To whom I thus: "It is enough: no fear, I see, lest nature in her part should tire."
He straight rejoin’d: "Say, were it worse for man, If he liv’d not in fellowship on earth?"
"Yea," answer’d I; "nor here a reason needs."
"And may that be, if different estates Grow not of different duties in your life? Consult your teacher, and he tells you ’no."’
Thus did he come, deducing to this point, And then concluded: "For this cause behooves, The roots, from whence your operations come, Must differ. Therefore one is Solon born; Another, Xerxes; and Melchisidec A third; and he a fourth, whose airy voyage Cost him his son. In her circuitous course, Nature, that is the seal to mortal wax, Doth well her art, but no distinctions owns ’Twixt one or other household. Hence befalls That Esau is so wide of Jacob: hence Quirinus of so base a father springs, He dates from Mars his lineage. Were it not That providence celestial overrul’d, Nature, in generation, must the path Trac’d by the generator, still pursue Unswervingly. Thus place I in thy sight That, which was late behind thee. But, in sign Of more affection for thee, ’t is my will Thou wear this corollary. Nature ever Finding discordant fortune, like all seed Out of its proper climate, thrives but ill. And were the world below content to mark And work on the foundation nature lays, It would not lack supply of excellence. But ye perversely to religion strain Him, who was born to gird on him the sword, And of the fluent phrasemen make your king; Therefore your steps have wander’d from the paths."

CANTO IX

After solution of my doubt, thy Charles, O fair Clemenza, of the treachery spake That must befall his seed: but, "Tell it not," Said he, "and let the destin’d years come round." Nor may I tell thee more, save that the meed Of sorrow well-deserv’d shall quit your wrongs.
And now the visage of that saintly light Was to the sun, that fills it, turn’d again, As to the good, whose plenitude of bliss Sufficeth all. O ye misguided souls! Infatuate, who from such a good estrange Your hearts, and bend your gaze on vanity, Alas for you!—And lo! toward me, next, Another of those splendent forms approach’d, That, by its outward bright’ning, testified The will it had to pleasure me. The eyes Of Beatrice, resting, as before, Firmly upon me, manifested forth Approva1 of my wish. "And O," I cried, Blest spirit! quickly be my will perform’d; And prove thou to me, that my inmost thoughts I can reflect on thee." Thereat the light, That yet was new to me, from the recess, Where it before was singing, thus began, As one who joys in kindness: "In that part Of the deprav’d Italian land, which lies Between Rialto, and the fountain-springs Of Brenta and of Piava, there doth rise, But to no lofty eminence, a hill, From whence erewhile a firebrand did descend, That sorely sheet the region. From one root I and it sprang; my name on earth Cunizza: And here I glitter, for that by its light This star o’ercame me. Yet I naught repine, Nor grudge myself the cause of this my lot, Which haply vulgar hearts can scarce conceive.
"This jewel, that is next me in our heaven, Lustrous and costly, great renown hath left, And not to perish, ere these hundred years Five times absolve their round. Consider thou, If to excel be worthy man’s endeavour, When such life may attend the first. Yet they Care not for this, the crowd that now are girt By Adice and Tagliamento, still Impenitent, tho’ scourg’d. The hour is near, When for their stubbornness at Padua’s marsh The water shall be chang’d, that laves Vicena And where Cagnano meets with Sile, one Lords it, and bears his head aloft, for whom The web is now a-warping. Feltro too Shall sorrow for its godless shepherd’s fault, Of so deep stain, that never, for the like, Was Malta’s bar unclos’d. Too large should be The skillet, that would hold Ferrara’s blood, And wearied he, who ounce by ounce would weight it, The which this priest, in show of party-zeal, Courteous will give; nor will the gift ill suit The country’s custom. We descry above, Mirrors, ye call them thrones, from which to us Reflected shine the judgments of our God: Whence these our sayings we avouch for good."
She ended, and appear’d on other thoughts Intent, re-ent’ring on the wheel she late Had left. That other joyance meanwhile wax’d A thing to marvel at, in splendour glowing, Like choicest ruby stricken by the sun, For, in that upper clime, effulgence comes Of gladness, as here laughter: and below, As the mind saddens, murkier grows the shade.
"God seeth all: and in him is thy sight," Said I, "blest Spirit! Therefore will of his Cannot to thee be dark. Why then delays Thy voice to satisfy my wish untold, That voice which joins the inexpressive song, Pastime of heav’n, the which those ardours sing, That cowl them with six shadowing wings outspread? I would not wait thy asking, wert thou known To me, as thoroughly I to thee am known."
He forthwith answ’ring, thus his words began: "The valley’ of waters, widest next to that Which doth the earth engarland, shapes its course, Between discordant shores, against the sun Inward so far, it makes meridian there, Where was before th’ horizon. Of that vale Dwelt I upon the shore, ’twixt Ebro’s stream And Macra’s, that divides with passage brief Genoan bounds from Tuscan. East and west Are nearly one to Begga and my land, Whose haven erst was with its own blood warm. Who knew my name were wont to call me Folco: And I did bear impression of this heav’n, That now bears mine: for not with fiercer flame Glow’d Belus’ daughter, injuring alike Sichaeus and Creusa, than did I, Long as it suited the unripen’d down That fledg’d my cheek: nor she of Rhodope, That was beguiled of Demophoon; Nor Jove’s son, when the charms of Iole Were shrin’d within his heart. And yet there hides No sorrowful repentance here, but mirth, Not for the fault (that doth not come to mind), But for the virtue, whose o’erruling sway And providence have wrought thus quaintly. Here The skill is look’d into, that fashioneth With such effectual working, and the good Discern’d, accruing to this upper world From that below. But fully to content Thy wishes, all that in this sphere have birth, Demands my further parle. Inquire thou wouldst, Who of this light is denizen, that here Beside me sparkles, as the sun-beam doth On the clear wave. Know then, the soul of Rahab Is in that gladsome harbour, to our tribe United, and the foremost rank assign’d. He to that heav’n, at which the shadow ends Of your sublunar world, was taken up, First, in Christ’s triumph, of all souls redeem’d: For well behoov’d, that, in some part of heav’n, She should remain a trophy, to declare The mighty contest won with either palm; For that she favour’d first the high exploit Of Joshua on the holy land, whereof The Pope recks little now. Thy city, plant Of him, that on his Maker turn’d the back, And of whose envying so much woe hath sprung, Engenders and expands the cursed flower, That hath made wander both the sheep and lambs, Turning the shepherd to a wolf. For this, The gospel and great teachers laid aside, The decretals, as their stuft margins show, Are the sole study. Pope and Cardinals, Intent on these, ne’er journey but in thought To Nazareth, where Gabriel op’d his wings. Yet it may chance, erelong, the Vatican, And other most selected parts of Rome, That were the grave of Peter’s soldiery, Shall be deliver’d from the adult’rous bond."

CANTO X

Looking into his first-born with the love, Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might Ineffable, whence eye or mind Can roam, hath in such order all dispos’d, As none may see and fail to’ enjoy. Raise, then, O reader! to the lofty wheels, with me, Thy ken directed to the point, whereat One motion strikes on th’ other. There begin Thy wonder of the mighty Architect, Who loves his work so inwardly, his eye Doth ever watch it. See, how thence oblique Brancheth the circle, where the planets roll To pour their wished influence on the world; Whose path not bending thus, in heav’n above Much virtue would be lost, and here on earth, All power well nigh extinct: or, from direct Were its departure distant more or less, I’ th’ universal order, great defect Must, both in heav’n and here beneath, ensue.
Now rest thee, reader! on thy bench, and muse Anticipative of the feast to come; So shall delight make thee not feel thy toil. Lo! I have set before thee, for thyself Feed now: the matter I indite, henceforth Demands entire my thought. Join’d with the part, Which late we told of, the great minister Of nature, that upon the world imprints The virtue of the heaven, and doles out Time for us with his beam, went circling on Along the spires, where each hour sooner comes; And I was with him, weetless of ascent, As one, who till arriv’d, weets not his coming.
For Beatrice, she who passeth on So suddenly from good to better, time Counts not the act, oh then how great must needs Have been her brightness! What she was i’ th’ sun (Where I had enter’d), not through change of hue, But light transparent—did I summon up Genius, art, practice—I might not so speak, It should be e’er imagin’d: yet believ’d It may be, and the sight be justly crav’d. And if our fantasy fail of such height, What marvel, since no eye above the sun Hath ever travel’d? Such are they dwell here, Fourth family of the Omnipotent Sire, Who of his spirit and of his offspring shows; And holds them still enraptur’d with the view. And thus to me Beatrice: "Thank, oh thank, The Sun of angels, him, who by his grace To this perceptible hath lifted thee."
Never was heart in such devotion bound, And with complacency so absolute Dispos’d to render up itself to God, As mine was at those words: and so entire The love for Him, that held me, it eclips’d Beatrice in oblivion. Naught displeas’d Was she, but smil’d thereat so joyously, That of her laughing eyes the radiance brake And scatter’d my collected mind abroad.
Then saw I a bright band, in liveliness Surpassing, who themselves did make the crown, And us their centre: yet more sweet in voice, Than in their visage beaming. Cinctur’d thus, Sometime Latona’s daughter we behold, When the impregnate air retains the thread, That weaves her zone. In the celestial court, Whence I return, are many jewels found, So dear and beautiful, they cannot brook Transporting from that realm: and of these lights Such was the song. Who doth not prune his wing To soar up thither, let him look from thence For tidings from the dumb. When, singing thus, Those burning suns that circled round us thrice, As nearest stars around the fixed pole, Then seem’d they like to ladies, from the dance Not ceasing, but suspense, in silent pause, List’ning, till they have caught the strain anew: Suspended so they stood: and, from within, Thus heard I one, who spake: "Since with its beam The grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame, That after doth increase by loving, shines So multiplied in thee, it leads thee up Along this ladder, down whose hallow’d steps None e’er descend, and mount them not again, Who from his phial should refuse thee wine To slake thy thirst, no less constrained were, Than water flowing not unto the sea. Thou fain wouldst hear, what plants are these, that bloom In the bright garland, which, admiring, girds This fair dame round, who strengthens thee for heav’n. I then was of the lambs, that Dominic Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way, Where well they thrive, not sworn with vanity. He, nearest on my right hand, brother was, And master to me: Albert of Cologne Is this: and of Aquinum, Thomas I. If thou of all the rest wouldst be assur’d, Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak, In circuit journey round the blessed wreath. That next resplendence issues from the smile Of Gratian, who to either forum lent Such help, as favour wins in Paradise. The other, nearest, who adorns our quire, Was Peter, he that with the widow gave To holy church his treasure. The fifth light, Goodliest of all, is by such love inspired, That all your world craves tidings of its doom: Within, there is the lofty light, endow’d With sapience so profound, if truth be truth, That with a ken of such wide amplitude No second hath arisen. Next behold That taper’s radiance, to whose view was shown, Clearliest, the nature and the ministry Angelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt. In the other little light serenely smiles That pleader for the Christian temples, he Who did provide Augustin of his lore. Now, if thy mind’s eye pass from light to light, Upon my praises following, of the eighth Thy thirst is next. The saintly soul, that shows The world’s deceitfulness, to all who hear him, Is, with the sight of all the good, that is, Blest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, lie Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom And exile came it here. Lo! further on, Where flames the arduous Spirit of Isidore, Of Bede, and Richard, more than man, erewhile, In deep discernment. Lastly this, from whom Thy look on me reverteth, was the beam Of one, whose spirit, on high musings bent, Rebuk’d the ling’ring tardiness of death. It is the eternal light of Sigebert, Who ’scap’d not envy, when of truth he argued, Reading in the straw-litter’d street." Forthwith, As clock, that calleth up the spouse of God To win her bridegroom’s love at matin’s hour, Each part of other fitly drawn and urg’d, Sends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet, Affection springs in well-disposed breast; Thus saw I move the glorious wheel, thus heard Voice answ’ring voice, so musical and soft, It can be known but where day endless shines.

CANTO XI

O fond anxiety of mortal men! How vain and inconclusive arguments Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below For statues one, and one for aphorisms Was hunting; this the priesthood follow’d, that By force or sophistry aspir’d to rule; To rob another, and another sought By civil business wealth; one moiling lay Tangled in net of sensual delight, And one to witless indolence resign’d; What time from all these empty things escap’d, With Beatrice, I thus gloriously Was rais’d aloft, and made the guest of heav’n.
They of the circle to that point, each one. Where erst it was, had turn’d; and steady glow’d, As candle in his socket. Then within The lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smiling With merer gladness, heard I thus begin:
"E’en as his beam illumes me, so I look Into the eternal light, and clearly mark Thy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt, And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afresh In such plain open phrase, as may be smooth To thy perception, where I told thee late That ’well they thrive;’ and that ’no second such Hath risen,’ which no small distinction needs.
"The providence, that governeth the world, In depth of counsel by created ken Unfathomable, to the end that she, Who with loud cries was ’spous’d in precious blood, Might keep her footing towards her well-belov’d, Safe in herself and constant unto him, Hath two ordain’d, who should on either hand In chief escort her: one seraphic all In fervency; for wisdom upon earth, The other splendour of cherubic light. I but of one will tell: he tells of both, Who one commendeth. which of them so’er Be taken: for their deeds were to one end.
"Between Tupino, and the wave, that falls From blest Ubaldo’s chosen hill, there hangs Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold Are wafted through Perugia’s eastern gate: And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rear Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side, Where it doth break its steepness most, arose A sun upon the world, as duly this From Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speak Of that place, say Ascesi; for its name Were lamely so deliver’d; but the East, To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl’d. He was not yet much distant from his rising, When his good influence ’gan to bless the earth. A dame to whom none openeth pleasure’s gate More than to death, was, ’gainst his father’s will, His stripling choice: and he did make her his, Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds, And in his father’s sight: from day to day, Then lov’d her more devoutly. She, bereav’d Of her first husband, slighted and obscure, Thousand and hundred years and more, remain’d Without a single suitor, till he came. Nor aught avail’d, that, with Amyclas, she Was found unmov’d at rumour of his voice, Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldness Whereby with Christ she mounted on the cross, When Mary stay’d beneath. But not to deal Thus closely with thee longer, take at large The rovers’ titles—Poverty and Francis. Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love, And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts, So much, that venerable Bernard first Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace So heavenly, ran, yet deem’d his footing slow. O hidden riches! O prolific good! Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester, And follow both the bridegroom; so the bride Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way, The father and the master, with his spouse, And with that family, whom now the cord Girt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart Weigh down his eyelids, for that he was son Of Pietro Bernardone, and by men In wond’rous sort despis’d. But royally His hard intention he to Innocent Set forth, and from him first receiv’d the seal On his religion. Then, when numerous flock’d The tribe of lowly ones, that trac’d HIS steps, Whose marvellous life deservedly were sung In heights empyreal, through Honorius’ hand A second crown, to deck their Guardian’s virtues, Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath’d: and when He had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up In the proud Soldan’s presence, and there preach’d Christ and his followers; but found the race Unripen’d for conversion: back once more He hasted (not to intermit his toil), And reap’d Ausonian lands. On the hard rock, ’Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from Christ Took the last Signet, which his limbs two years Did carry. Then the season come, that he, Who to such good had destin’d him, was pleas’d T’ advance him to the meed, which he had earn’d By his self-humbling, to his brotherhood, As their just heritage, he gave in charge His dearest lady, and enjoin’d their love And faith to her: and, from her bosom, will’d His goodly spirit should move forth, returning To its appointed kingdom, nor would have His body laid upon another bier.
"Think now of one, who were a fit colleague, To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea Helm’d to right point; and such our Patriarch was. Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins, Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in. But hunger of new viands tempts his flock, So that they needs into strange pastures wide Must spread them: and the more remote from him The stragglers wander, so much mole they come Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk. There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm, And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few, A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.
"Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta’en Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill’d: For thou wilt see the point from whence they split, Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies, ’That well they thrive not sworn with vanity."’

CANTO XII

Soon as its final word the blessed flame Had rais’d for utterance, straight the holy mill Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv’d, Or ere another, circling, compass’d it, Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining, Song, that as much our muses doth excel, Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.
As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth, Two arches parallel, and trick’d alike, Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth From that within (in manner of that voice Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist), And they who gaze, presageful call to mind The compact, made with Noah, of the world No more to be o’erflow’d; about us thus Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath’d Those garlands twain, and to the innermost E’en thus th’ external answered. When the footing, And other great festivity, of song, And radiance, light with light accordant, each Jocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still’d (E’en as the eyes by quick volition mov’d, Are shut and rais’d together), from the heart Of one amongst the new lights mov’d a voice, That made me seem like needle to the star, In turning to its whereabout, and thus Began: "The love, that makes me beautiful, Prompts me to tell of th’ other guide, for whom Such good of mine is spoken. Where one is, The other worthily should also be; That as their warfare was alike, alike Should be their glory. Slow, and full of doubt, And with thin ranks, after its banner mov’d The army of Christ (which it so clearly cost To reappoint), when its imperial Head, Who reigneth ever, for the drooping host Did make provision, thorough grace alone, And not through its deserving. As thou heard’st, Two champions to the succour of his spouse He sent, who by their deeds and words might join Again his scatter’d people. In that clime, Where springs the pleasant west-wind to unfold The fresh leaves, with which Europe sees herself New-garmented; nor from those billows far, Beyond whose chiding, after weary course, The sun doth sometimes hide him, safe abides The happy Callaroga, under guard Of the great shield, wherein the lion lies Subjected and supreme. And there was born The loving million of the Christian faith, The hollow’d wrestler, gentle to his own, And to his enemies terrible. So replete His soul with lively virtue, that when first Created, even in the mother’s womb, It prophesied. When, at the sacred font, The spousals were complete ’twixt faith and him, Where pledge of mutual safety was exchang’d, The dame, who was his surety, in her sleep Beheld the wondrous fruit, that was from him And from his heirs to issue. And that such He might be construed, as indeed he was, She was inspir’d to name him of his owner, Whose he was wholly, and so call’d him Dominic. And I speak of him, as the labourer, Whom Christ in his own garden chose to be His help-mate. Messenger he seem’d, and friend Fast-knit to Christ; and the first love he show’d, Was after the first counsel that Christ gave. Many a time his nurse, at entering found That he had ris’n in silence, and was prostrate, As who should say, "My errand was for this." O happy father! Felix rightly nam’d! O favour’d mother! rightly nam’d Joanna! If that do mean, as men interpret it. Not for the world’s sake, for which now they pore Upon Ostiense and Taddeo’s page, But for the real manna, soon he grew Mighty in learning, and did set himself To go about the vineyard, that soon turns To wan and wither’d, if not tended well: And from the see (whose bounty to the just And needy is gone by, not through its fault, But his who fills it basely), he besought, No dispensation for commuted wrong, Nor the first vacant fortune, nor the tenth), That to God’s paupers rightly appertain, But, ’gainst an erring and degenerate world, Licence to fight, in favour of that seed, From which the twice twelve cions gird thee round. Then, with sage doctrine and good will to help, Forth on his great apostleship he far’d, Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein; And, dashing ’gainst the stocks of heresy, Smote fiercest, where resistance was most stout. Thence many rivulets have since been turn’d, Over the garden Catholic to lead Their living waters, and have fed its plants.
"If such one wheel of that two-yoked car, Wherein the holy church defended her, And rode triumphant through the civil broil. Thou canst not doubt its fellow’s excellence, Which Thomas, ere my coming, hath declar’d So courteously unto thee. But the track, Which its smooth fellies made, is now deserted: That mouldy mother is where late were lees. His family, that wont to trace his path, Turn backward, and invert their steps; erelong To rue the gathering in of their ill crop, When the rejected tares in vain shall ask Admittance to the barn. I question not But he, who search’d our volume, leaf by leaf, Might still find page with this inscription on’t, ’I am as I was wont.’ Yet such were not From Acquasparta nor Casale, whence Of those, who come to meddle with the text, One stretches and another cramps its rule. Bonaventura’s life in me behold, From Bagnororegio, one, who in discharge Of my great offices still laid aside All sinister aim. Illuminato here, And Agostino join me: two they were, Among the first of those barefooted meek ones, Who sought God’s friendship in the cord: with them Hugues of Saint Victor, Pietro Mangiadore, And he of Spain in his twelve volumes shining, Nathan the prophet, Metropolitan Chrysostom, and Anselmo, and, who deign’d To put his hand to the first art, Donatus. Raban is here: and at my side there shines Calabria’s abbot, Joachim , endow’d With soul prophetic. The bright courtesy Of friar Thomas, and his goodly lore, Have mov’d me to the blazon of a peer So worthy, and with me have mov’d this throng."

CANTO XIII

Let him, who would conceive what now I saw, Imagine (and retain the image firm, As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak), Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal host Selected, that, with lively ray serene, O’ercome the massiest air: thereto imagine The wain, that, in the bosom of our sky, Spins ever on its axle night and day, With the bright summit of that horn which swells Due from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls, T’ have rang’d themselves in fashion of two signs In heav’n, such as Ariadne made, When death’s chill seized her; and that one of them Did compass in the other’s beam; and both In such sort whirl around, that each should tend With opposite motion and, conceiving thus, Of that true constellation, and the dance Twofold, that circled me, he shall attain As ’t were the shadow; for things there as much Surpass our usage, as the swiftest heav’n Is swifter than the Chiana. There was sung No Bacchus, and no Io Paean, but Three Persons in the Godhead, and in one Substance that nature and the human join’d.
The song fulfill’d its measure; and to us Those saintly lights attended, happier made At each new minist’ring. Then silence brake, Amid th’ accordant sons of Deity, That luminary, in which the wondrous life Of the meek man of God was told to me; And thus it spake: "One ear o’ th’ harvest thresh’d, And its grain safely stor’d, sweet charity Invites me with the other to like toil.
"Thou know’st, that in the bosom, whence the rib Was ta’en to fashion that fair cheek, whose taste All the world pays for, and in that, which pierc’d By the keen lance, both after and before Such satisfaction offer’d, as outweighs Each evil in the scale, whate’er of light To human nature is allow’d, must all Have by his virtue been infus’d, who form’d Both one and other: and thou thence admir’st In that I told thee, of beatitudes A second, there is none, to his enclos’d In the fifth radiance. Open now thine eyes To what I answer thee; and thou shalt see Thy deeming and my saying meet in truth, As centre in the round. That which dies not, And that which can die, are but each the beam Of that idea, which our Soverign Sire Engendereth loving; for that lively light, Which passeth from his brightness; not disjoin’d From him, nor from his love triune with them, Doth, through his bounty, congregate itself, Mirror’d, as ’t were in new existences, Itself unalterable and ever one.
"Descending hence unto the lowest powers, Its energy so sinks, at last it makes But brief contingencies: for so I name Things generated, which the heav’nly orbs Moving, with seed or without seed, produce. Their wax, and that which molds it, differ much: And thence with lustre, more or less, it shows Th’ ideal stamp impress: so that one tree According to his kind, hath better fruit, And worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men, Are in your talents various. Were the wax Molded with nice exactness, and the heav’n In its disposing influence supreme, The lustre of the seal should be complete: But nature renders it imperfect ever, Resembling thus the artist in her work, Whose faultering hand is faithless to his skill. Howe’er, if love itself dispose, and mark The primal virtue, kindling with bright view, There all perfection is vouchsafed; and such The clay was made, accomplish’d with each gift, That life can teem with; such the burden fill’d The virgin’s bosom: so that I commend Thy judgment, that the human nature ne’er Was or can be, such as in them it was.
"Did I advance no further than this point, ’How then had he no peer?’ thou might’st reply. But, that what now appears not, may appear Right plainly, ponder, who he was, and what (When he was bidden ’Ask’ ), the motive sway’d To his requesting. I have spoken thus, That thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask’d For wisdom, to the end he might be king Sufficient: not the number to search out Of the celestial movers; or to know, If necessary with contingent e’er Have made necessity; or whether that Be granted, that first motion is; or if Of the mid circle can, by art, be made Triangle with each corner, blunt or sharp.
"Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this, Thou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn, At which the dart of my intention aims. And, marking clearly, that I told thee, ’Risen,’ Thou shalt discern it only hath respect To kings, of whom are many, and the good Are rare. With this distinction take my words; And they may well consist with that which thou Of the first human father dost believe, And of our well-beloved. And let this Henceforth be led unto thy feet, to make Thee slow in motion, as a weary man, Both to the ’yea’ and to the ’nay’ thou seest not. For he among the fools is down full low, Whose affirmation, or denial, is Without distinction, in each case alike Since it befalls, that in most instances Current opinion leads to false: and then Affection bends the judgment to her ply.
"Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore, Since he returns not such as he set forth, Who fishes for the truth and wanteth skill. And open proofs of this unto the world Have been afforded in Parmenides, Melissus, Bryso, and the crowd beside, Who journey’d on, and knew not whither: so did Sabellius, Arius, and the other fools, Who, like to scymitars, reflected back The scripture-image, by distortion marr’d.
"Let not the people be too swift to judge, As one who reckons on the blades in field, Or ere the crop be ripe. For I have seen The thorn frown rudely all the winter long And after bear the rose upon its top; And bark, that all the way across the sea Ran straight and speedy, perish at the last, E’en in the haven’s mouth seeing one steal, Another brine, his offering to the priest, Let not Dame Birtha and Sir Martin thence Into heav’n’s counsels deem that they can pry: For one of these may rise, the other fall."

CANTO XIV

From centre to the circle, and so back From circle to the centre, water moves In the round chalice, even as the blow Impels it, inwardly, or from without. Such was the image glanc’d into my mind, As the great spirit of Aquinum ceas’d; And Beatrice after him her words Resum’d alternate: "Need there is (tho’ yet He tells it to you not in words, nor e’en In thought) that he should fathom to its depth Another mystery. Tell him, if the light, Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you Eternally, as now: and, if it doth, How, when ye shall regain your visible forms, The sight may without harm endure the change, That also tell." As those, who in a ring Tread the light measure, in their fitful mirth Raise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound; Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit, The saintly circles in their tourneying And wond’rous note attested new delight.
Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live Immortally above, he hath not seen The sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.
Him, who lives ever, and for ever reigns In mystic union of the Three in One, Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice Sang, with such melody, as but to hear For highest merit were an ample meed. And from the lesser orb the goodliest light, With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps The angel’s once to Mary, thus replied: "Long as the joy of Paradise shall last, Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright, As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest; And that as far in blessedness exceeding, As it hath grave beyond its virtue great. Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire, Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase, Whate’er of light, gratuitous, imparts The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid, The better disclose his glory: whence The vision needs increasing, much increase The fervour, which it kindles; and that too The ray, that comes from it. But as the greed Which gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shines More lively than that, and so preserves Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere Of splendour, shall to view less radiant seem, Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth Now covers. Nor will such excess of light O’erpower us, in corporeal organs made Firm, and susceptible of all delight."
So ready and so cordial an "Amen," Followed from either choir, as plainly spoke Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear, Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov’d, Ere they were made imperishable flame.
And lo! forthwith there rose up round about A lustre over that already there, Of equal clearness, like the brightening up Of the horizon. As at an evening hour Of twilight, new appearances through heav’n Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried; So there new substances, methought began To rise in view; and round the other twain Enwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.
O gentle glitter of eternal beam! With what a such whiteness did it flow, O’erpowering vision in me! But so fair, So passing lovely, Beatrice show’d, Mind cannot follow it, nor words express Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain’d Power to look up, and I beheld myself, Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss Translated: for the star, with warmer smile Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.
With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks The same in all, an holocaust I made To God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf’d. And from my bosom had not yet upsteam’d The fuming of that incense, when I knew The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen And mantling crimson, in two listed rays The splendours shot before me, that I cried, "God of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!"
As leads the galaxy from pole to pole, Distinguish’d into greater lights and less, Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell; So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars, Those rays describ’d the venerable sign, That quadrants in the round conjoining frame. Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ Beam’d on that cross; and pattern fails me now. But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ Will pardon me for that I leave untold, When in the flecker’d dawning he shall spy The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn, And ’tween the summit and the base did move Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass’d. Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance, Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, The atomies of bodies, long or short, To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line Checkers the shadow, interpos’d by art Against the noontide heat. And as the chime Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and help With many strings, a pleasant dining makes To him, who heareth not distinct the note; So from the lights, which there appear’d to me, Gather’d along the cross a melody, That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment Possess’d me. Yet I mark’d it was a hymn Of lofty praises; for there came to me "Arise and conquer," as to one who hears And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy O’ercame, that never till that hour was thing That held me in so sweet imprisonment.
Perhaps my saying over bold appears, Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes, Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire. But he, who is aware those living seals Of every beauty work with quicker force, The higher they are ris’n; and that there I had not turn’d me to them; he may well Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse I do accuse me, and may own my truth; That holy pleasure here not yet reveal’d, Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.

CANTO XV

True love, that ever shows itself as clear In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still’d The sacred chords, that are by heav’n’s right hand Unwound and tighten’d, flow to righteous prayers Should they not hearken, who, to give me will For praying, in accordance thus were mute? He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief, Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, Despoils himself forever of that love.
As oft along the still and pure serene, At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire, Attracting with involuntary heed The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest, And seems some star that shifted place in heav’n, Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost, And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn, That on the dexter of the cross extends, Down to its foot, one luminary ran From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem Dropp’d from its foil; and through the beamy list Like flame in alabaster, glow’d its course.
So forward stretch’d him (if of credence aught Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost Of old Anchises, in the’ Elysian bower, When he perceiv’d his son. "O thou, my blood! O most exceeding grace divine! to whom, As now to thee, hath twice the heav’nly gate Been e’er unclos’d?" so spake the light; whence I Turn’d me toward him; then unto my dame My sight directed, and on either side Amazement waited me; for in her eyes Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine Had div’d unto the bottom of my grace And of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith To hearing and to sight grateful alike, The spirit to his proem added things I understood not, so profound he spake; Yet not of choice but through necessity Mysterious; for his high conception scar’d Beyond the mark of mortals. When the flight Of holy transport had so spent its rage, That nearer to the level of our thought The speech descended, the first sounds I heard Were, "Best he thou, Triunal Deity! That hast such favour in my seed vouchsaf’d!" Then follow’d: "No unpleasant thirst, tho’ long, Which took me reading in the sacred book, Whose leaves or white or dusky never change, Thou hast allay’d, my son, within this light, From whence my voice thou hear’st; more thanks to her. Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes Begirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me From him transmitted, who is first of all, E’en as all numbers ray from unity; And therefore dost not ask me who I am, Or why to thee more joyous I appear, Than any other in this gladsome throng. The truth is as thou deem’st; for in this hue Both less and greater in that mirror look, In which thy thoughts, or ere thou think’st, are shown. But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever, Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire, May be contended fully, let thy voice, Fearless, and frank and jocund, utter forth Thy will distinctly, utter forth the wish, Whereto my ready answer stands decreed."
I turn’d me to Beatrice; and she heard Ere I had spoken, smiling, an assent, That to my will gave wings; and I began "To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn’d The nature, in whom naught unequal dwells, Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt; For that they are so equal in the sun, From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat, As makes all likeness scant. But will and means, In mortals, for the cause ye well discern, With unlike wings are fledge. A mortal I Experience inequality like this, And therefore give no thanks, but in the heart, For thy paternal greeting. This howe’er I pray thee, living topaz! that ingemm’st This precious jewel, let me hear thy name."
"I am thy root, O leaf! whom to expect Even, hath pleas’d me: "thus the prompt reply Prefacing, next it added; "he, of whom Thy kindred appellation comes, and who, These hundred years and more, on its first ledge Hath circuited the mountain, was my son And thy great grandsire. Well befits, his long Endurance should he shorten’d by thy deeds.
"Florence, within her ancient limit-mark, Which calls her still to matin prayers and noon, Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace. She had no armlets and no head-tires then, No purfled dames, no zone, that caught the eye More than the person did. Time was not yet, When at his daughter’s birth the sire grew pale. For fear the age and dowry should exceed On each side just proportion. House was none Void of its family; nor yet had come Hardanapalus, to exhibit feats Of chamber prowess. Montemalo yet O’er our suburban turret rose; as much To be surpass in fall, as in its rising. I saw Bellincione Berti walk abroad In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone; And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks, His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw Of Nerli and of Vecchio well content With unrob’d jerkin; and their good dames handling The spindle and the flax; O happy they! Each sure of burial in her native land, And none left desolate a-bed for France! One wak’d to tend the cradle, hushing it With sounds that lull’d the parent’s infancy: Another, with her maidens, drawing off The tresses from the distaff, lectur’d them Old tales of Troy and Fesole and Rome. A Salterello and Cianghella we Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would A Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.
"In such compos’d and seemly fellowship, Such faithful and such fair equality, In so sweet household, Mary at my birth Bestow’d me, call’d on with loud cries; and there In your old baptistery, I was made Christian at once and Cacciaguida; as were My brethren, Eliseo and Moronto.
"From Valdipado came to me my spouse, And hence thy surname grew. I follow’d then The Emperor Conrad; and his knighthood he Did gird on me; in such good part he took My valiant service. After him I went To testify against that evil law, Whose people, by the shepherd’s fault, possess Your right, usurping. There, by that foul crew Was I releas’d from the deceitful world, Whose base affection many a spirit soils, And from the martyrdom came to this peace."

CANTO XVI

O slight respect of man’s nobility! I never shall account it marvelous, That our infirm affection here below Thou mov’st to boasting, when I could not choose, E’en in that region of unwarp’d desire, In heav’n itself, but make my vaunt in thee! Yet cloak thou art soon shorten’d, for that time, Unless thou be eked out from day to day, Goes round thee with his shears. Resuming then With greeting such, as Rome, was first to bear, But since hath disaccustom’d I began; And Beatrice, that a little space Was sever’d, smil’d reminding me of her, Whose cough embolden’d (as the story holds) To first offence the doubting Guenever.
"You are my sire," said I, "you give me heart Freely to speak my thought: above myself You raise me. Through so many streams with joy My soul is fill’d, that gladness wells from it; So that it bears the mighty tide, and bursts not Say then, my honour’d stem! what ancestors Where those you sprang from, and what years were mark’d In your first childhood? Tell me of the fold, That hath Saint John for guardian, what was then Its state, and who in it were highest seated?"
As embers, at the breathing of the wind, Their flame enliven, so that light I saw Shine at my blandishments; and, as it grew More fair to look on, so with voice more sweet, Yet not in this our modern phrase, forthwith It answer’d: "From the day, when it was said ’ Hail Virgin!’ to the throes, by which my mother, Who now is sainted, lighten’d her of me Whom she was heavy with, this fire had come, Five hundred fifty times and thrice, its beams To reilumine underneath the foot Of its own lion. They, of whom I sprang, And I, had there our birth-place, where the last Partition of our city first is reach’d By him, that runs her annual game. Thus much Suffice of my forefathers: who they were, And whence they hither came, more honourable It is to pass in silence than to tell. All those, who in that time were there from Mars Until the Baptist, fit to carry arms, Were but the fifth of them this day alive. But then the citizen’s blood, that now is mix’d From Campi and Certaldo and Fighine, Ran purely through the last mechanic’s veins. O how much better were it, that these people Were neighbours to you, and that at Galluzzo And at Trespiano, ye should have your bound’ry, Than to have them within, and bear the stench Of Aguglione’s hind, and Signa’s, him, That hath his eye already keen for bart’ring! Had not the people, which of all the world Degenerates most, been stepdame unto Caesar, But, as a mother, gracious to her son; Such one, as hath become a Florentine, And trades and traffics, had been turn’d adrift To Simifonte, where his grandsire ply’d The beggar’s craft. The Conti were possess’d Of Montemurlo still: the Cerchi still Were in Acone’s parish; nor had haply From Valdigrieve past the Buondelmonte. The city’s malady hath ever source In the confusion of its persons, as The body’s, in variety of food: And the blind bull falls with a steeper plunge, Than the blind lamb; and oftentimes one sword Doth more and better execution, Than five. Mark Luni, Urbisaglia mark, How they are gone, and after them how go Chiusi and Sinigaglia; and ’t will seem No longer new or strange to thee to hear, That families fail, when cities have their end. All things, that appertain t’ ye, like yourselves, Are mortal: but mortality in some Ye mark not, they endure so long, and you Pass by so suddenly. And as the moon Doth, by the rolling of her heav’nly sphere, Hide and reveal the strand unceasingly; So fortune deals with Florence. Hence admire not At what of them I tell thee, whose renown Time covers, the first Florentines. I saw The Ughi, Catilini and Filippi, The Alberichi, Greci and Ormanni, Now in their wane, illustrious citizens: And great as ancient, of Sannella him, With him of Arca saw, and Soldanieri And Ardinghi, and Bostichi. At the poop, That now is laden with new felony, So cumb’rous it may speedily sink the bark, The Ravignani sat, of whom is sprung The County Guido, and whoso hath since His title from the fam’d Bellincione ta’en. Fair governance was yet an art well priz’d By him of Pressa: Galigaio show’d The gilded hilt and pommel, in his house. The column, cloth’d with verrey, still was seen Unshaken: the Sacchetti still were great, Giouchi, Sifanti, Galli and Barucci, With them who blush to hear the bushel nam’d. Of the Calfucci still the branchy trunk Was in its strength: and to the curule chairs Sizii and Arigucci yet were drawn. How mighty them I saw, whom since their pride Hath undone! and in all her goodly deeds Florence was by the bullets of bright gold O’erflourish’d. Such the sires of those, who now, As surely as your church is vacant, flock Into her consistory, and at leisure There stall them and grow fat. The o’erweening brood, That plays the dragon after him that flees, But unto such, as turn and show the tooth, Ay or the purse, is gentle as a lamb, Was on its rise, but yet so slight esteem’d, That Ubertino of Donati grudg’d His father-in-law should yoke him to its tribe. Already Caponsacco had descended Into the mart from Fesole: and Giuda And Infangato were good citizens. A thing incredible I tell, tho’ true: The gateway, named from those of Pera, led Into the narrow circuit of your walls. Each one, who bears the sightly quarterings Of the great Baron (he whose name and worth The festival of Thomas still revives) His knighthood and his privilege retain’d; Albeit one, who borders them With gold, This day is mingled with the common herd. In Borgo yet the Gualterotti dwelt, And Importuni: well for its repose Had it still lack’d of newer neighbourhood. The house, from whence your tears have had their spring, Through the just anger that hath murder’d ye And put a period to your gladsome days, Was honour’d, it, and those consorted with it. O Buondelmonte! what ill counseling Prevail’d on thee to break the plighted bond Many, who now are weeping, would rejoice, Had God to Ema giv’n thee, the first time Thou near our city cam’st. But so was doom’d: On that maim’d stone set up to guard the bridge, At thy last peace, the victim, Florence! fell. With these and others like to them, I saw Florence in such assur’d tranquility, She had no cause at which to grieve: with these Saw her so glorious and so just, that ne’er The lily from the lance had hung reverse, Or through division been with vermeil dyed."

CANTO XVII

Such as the youth, who came to Clymene To certify himself of that reproach, Which had been fasten’d on him, (he whose end Still makes the fathers chary to their sons, E’en such was I; nor unobserv’d was such Of Beatrice, and that saintly lamp, Who had erewhile for me his station mov’d; When thus by lady: "Give thy wish free vent, That it may issue, bearing true report Of the mind’s impress; not that aught thy words May to our knowledge add, but to the end, That thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst And men may mingle for thee when they hear."
"O plant! from whence I spring! rever’d and lov’d! Who soar’st so high a pitch, thou seest as clear, As earthly thought determines two obtuse In one triangle not contain’d, so clear Dost see contingencies, ere in themselves Existent, looking at the point whereto All times are present, I, the whilst I scal’d With Virgil the soul purifying mount, And visited the nether world of woe, Touching my future destiny have heard Words grievous, though I feel me on all sides Well squar’d to fortune’s blows. Therefore my will Were satisfied to know the lot awaits me, The arrow, seen beforehand, slacks its flight."
So said I to the brightness, which erewhile To me had spoken, and my will declar’d, As Beatrice will’d, explicitly. Nor with oracular response obscure, Such, as or ere the Lamb of God was slain, Beguil’d the credulous nations; but, in terms Precise and unambiguous lore, replied The spirit of paternal love, enshrin’d, Yet in his smile apparent; and thus spake: "Contingency, unfolded not to view Upon the tablet of your mortal mold, Is all depictur’d in the’ eternal sight; But hence deriveth not necessity, More then the tall ship, hurried down the flood, Doth from the vision, that reflects the scene. From thence, as to the ear sweet harmony From organ comes, so comes before mine eye The time prepar’d for thee. Such as driv’n out From Athens, by his cruel stepdame’s wiles, Hippolytus departed, such must thou Depart from Florence. This they wish, and this Contrive, and will ere long effectuate, there, Where gainful merchandize is made of Christ, Throughout the livelong day. The common cry, Will, as ’t is ever wont, affix the blame Unto the party injur’d: but the truth Shall, in the vengeance it dispenseth, find A faithful witness. Thou shall leave each thing Belov’d most dearly: this is the first shaft Shot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove How salt the savour is of other’s bread, How hard the passage to descend and climb By other’s stairs, But that shall gall thee most Will he the worthless and vile company, With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. For all ungrateful, impious all and mad, Shall turn ’gainst thee: but in a little while Theirs and not thine shall be the crimson’d brow Their course shall so evince their brutishness T’ have ta’en thy stand apart shall well become thee.
"First refuge thou must find, first place of rest, In the great Lombard’s courtesy, who bears Upon the ladder perch’d the sacred bird. He shall behold thee with such kind regard, That ’twixt ye two, the contrary to that Which falls ’twixt other men, the granting shall Forerun the asking. With him shalt thou see That mortal, who was at his birth impress So strongly from this star, that of his deeds The nations shall take note. His unripe age Yet holds him from observance; for these wheels Only nine years have compass him about. But, ere the Gascon practice on great Harry, Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him, In equal scorn of labours and of gold. His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely, As not to let the tongues e’en of his foes Be idle in its praise. Look thou to him And his beneficence: for he shall cause Reversal of their lot to many people, Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes. And thou shalt bear this written in thy soul Of him, but tell it not; "and things he told Incredible to those who witness them; Then added: "So interpret thou, my son, What hath been told thee.—Lo! the ambushment That a few circling seasons hide for thee! Yet envy not thy neighbours: time extends Thy span beyond their treason’s chastisement."
Soon, as the saintly spirit, by his silence, Had shown the web, which I had streteh’d for him Upon the warp, was woven, I began, As one, who in perplexity desires Counsel of other, wise, benign and friendly: "My father! well I mark how time spurs on Toward me, ready to inflict the blow, Which falls most heavily on him, who most Abandoned himself. Therefore ’t is good I should forecast, that driven from the place Most dear to me, I may not lose myself All others by my song. Down through the world Of infinite mourning, and along the mount From whose fair height my lady’s eyes did lift me, And after through this heav’n from light to light, Have I learnt that, which if I tell again, It may with many woefully disrelish; And, if I am a timid friend to truth, I fear my life may perish among those, To whom these days shall be of ancient date."
The brightness, where enclos’d the treasure smil’d, Which I had found there, first shone glisteningly, Like to a golden mirror in the sun; Next answer’d: "Conscience, dimm’d or by its own Or other’s shame, will feel thy saying sharp. Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit remov’d, See the whole vision be made manifest. And let them wince who have their withers wrung. What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove Unwelcome, on digestion it will turn To vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest, Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits; Which is of honour no light argument, For this there only have been shown to thee, Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep, Spirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce And fix its faith, unless the instance brought Be palpable, and proof apparent urge."

CANTO XVIII

Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy’d That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine, Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile, Who led me unto God, admonish’d: "Muse On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong."
At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn’d; And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen, I leave in silence here: nor through distrust Of my words only, but that to such bliss The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz’d on her, Affection found no room for other wish. While the everlasting pleasure, that did full On Beatrice shine, with second view From her fair countenance my gladden’d soul Contented; vanquishing me with a beam Of her soft smile, she spake: "Turn thee, and list. These eyes are not thy only Paradise."
As here we sometimes in the looks may see Th’ affection mark’d, when that its sway hath ta’en The spirit wholly; thus the hallow’d light, To whom I turn’d, flashing, bewray’d its will To talk yet further with me, and began: "On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair And leaf unwith’ring, blessed spirits abide, That were below, ere they arriv’d in heav’n, So mighty in renown, as every muse Might grace her triumph with them. On the horns Look therefore of the cross: he, whom I name, Shall there enact, as doth 1n summer cloud Its nimble fire." Along the cross I saw, At the repeated name of Joshua, A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said, Ere it was done: then, at the naming saw Of the great Maccabee, another move With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge Unto that top. The next for Charlemagne And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues A falcon flying. Last, along the cross, William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew My ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul, Who spake with me among the other lights Did move away, and mix; and with the choir Of heav’nly songsters prov’d his tuneful skill.
To Beatrice on my right l bent, Looking for intimation or by word Or act, what next behoov’d; and did descry Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy, It past all former wont. And, as by sense Of new delight, the man, who perseveres In good deeds doth perceive from day to day His virtue growing; I e’en thus perceiv’d Of my ascent, together with the heav’n The circuit widen’d, noting the increase Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change In a brief moment on some maiden’s cheek, Which from its fairness doth discharge the weight Of pudency, that stain’d it; such in her, And to mine eyes so sudden was the change, Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star, Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw, Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks Of love, that reign’d there, fashion to my view Our language. And as birds, from river banks Arisen, now in round, now lengthen’d troop, Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems, Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights, The saintly creatures flying, sang, and made Now D. now I. now L. figur’d I’ th’ air. First, singing, to their notes they mov’d, then one Becoming of these signs, a little while Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine Of Pegasean race! whose souls, which thou Inspir’st, mak’st glorious and long-liv’d, as they Cities and realms by thee! thou with thyself Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes, As fancy doth present them. Be thy power Display’d in this brief song. The characters, Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven. In order each, as they appear’d, I mark’d. Diligite Justitiam, the first, Both verb and noun all blazon’d; and the extreme Qui judicatis terram. In the M. Of the fifth word they held their station, Making the star seem silver streak’d with gold. And on the summit of the M. I saw Descending other lights, that rested there, Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good. Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand, Sparkles innumerable on all sides Rise scatter’d, source of augury to th’ unwise; Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence Seem’d reascending, and a higher pitch Some mounting, and some less; e’en as the sun, Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one Had settled in his place, the head and neck Then saw I of an eagle, lively Grav’d in that streaky fire. Who painteth there, Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides; And every line and texture of the nest Doth own from him the virtue, fashions it. The other bright beatitude, that seem’d Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content To over-canopy the M. mov’d forth, Following gently the impress of the bird.
Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gems Declar’d to me our justice on the earth To be the effluence of that heav’n, which thou, Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay! Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom Thy motion and thy virtue are begun, That he would look from whence the fog doth rise, To vitiate thy beam: so that once more He may put forth his hand ’gainst such, as drive Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls With miracles and martyrdoms were built.
Ye host of heaven! whose glory I survey l O beg ye grace for those, that are on earth All after ill example gone astray. War once had for its instrument the sword: But now ’t is made, taking the bread away Which the good Father locks from none. —And thou, That writes but to cancel, think, that they, Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died, Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings. Thou hast good cause to cry, "My heart so cleaves To him, that liv’d in solitude remote, And from the wilds was dragg’d to martyrdom, I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul."

CANTO XIX

Before my sight appear’d, with open wings, The beauteous image, in fruition sweet Gladdening the thronged spirits. Each did seem A little ruby, whereon so intense The sun-beam glow’d that to mine eyes it came In clear refraction. And that, which next Befalls me to portray, voice hath not utter’d, Nor hath ink written, nor in fantasy Was e’er conceiv’d. For I beheld and heard The beak discourse; and, what intention form’d Of many, singly as of one express, Beginning: "For that I was just and piteous, l am exalted to this height of glory, The which no wish exceeds: and there on earth Have I my memory left, e’en by the bad Commended, while they leave its course untrod."
Thus is one heat from many embers felt, As in that image many were the loves, And one the voice, that issued from them all. Whence I address them: "O perennial flowers Of gladness everlasting! that exhale In single breath your odours manifold! Breathe now; and let the hunger be appeas’d, That with great craving long hath held my soul, Finding no food on earth. This well I know, That if there be in heav’n a realm, that shows In faithful mirror the celestial Justice, Yours without veil reflects it. Ye discern The heed, wherewith I do prepare myself To hearken; ye the doubt that urges me With such inveterate craving." Straight I saw, Like to a falcon issuing from the hood, That rears his head, and claps him with his wings, His beauty and his eagerness bewraying. So saw I move that stately sign, with praise Of grace divine inwoven and high song Of inexpressive joy. "He," it began, "Who turn’d his compass on the world’s extreme, And in that space so variously hath wrought, Both openly, and in secret, in such wise Could not through all the universe display Impression of his glory, that the Word Of his omniscience should not still remain In infinite excess. In proof whereof, He first through pride supplanted, who was sum Of each created being, waited not For light celestial, and abortive fell. Whence needs each lesser nature is but scant Receptacle unto that Good, which knows No limit, measur’d by itself alone. Therefore your sight, of th’ omnipresent Mind A single beam, its origin must own Surpassing far its utmost potency. The ken, your world is gifted with, descends In th’ everlasting Justice as low down, As eye doth in the sea; which though it mark The bottom from the shore, in the wide main Discerns it not; and ne’ertheless it is, But hidden through its deepness. Light is none, Save that which cometh from the pure serene Of ne’er disturbed ether: for the rest, ’Tis darkness all, or shadow of the flesh, Or else its poison. Here confess reveal’d That covert, which hath hidden from thy search The living justice, of the which thou mad’st Such frequent question; for thou saidst—’A man Is born on Indus’ banks, and none is there Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write, And all his inclinations and his acts, As far as human reason sees, are good, And he offendeth not in word or deed. But unbaptiz’d he dies, and void of faith. Where is the justice that condemns him? where His blame, if he believeth not?’—What then, And who art thou, that on the stool wouldst sit To judge at distance of a thousand miles With the short-sighted vision of a span? To him, who subtilizes thus with me, There would assuredly be room for doubt Even to wonder, did not the safe word Of scripture hold supreme authority.
"O animals of clay! O spirits gross I The primal will, that in itself is good, Hath from itself, the chief Good, ne’er been mov’d. Justice consists in consonance with it, Derivable by no created good, Whose very cause depends upon its beam."
As on her nest the stork, that turns about Unto her young, whom lately she hath fed, While they with upward eyes do look on her; So lifted I my gaze; and bending so The ever-blessed image wav’d its wings, Lab’ring with such deep counsel. Wheeling round It warbled, and did say: "As are my notes To thee, who understand’st them not, such is Th’ eternal judgment unto mortal ken."
Then still abiding in that ensign rang’d, Wherewith the Romans over-awed the world, Those burning splendours of the Holy Spirit Took up the strain; and thus it spake again: "None ever hath ascended to this realm, Who hath not a believer been in Christ, Either before or after the blest limbs Were nail’d upon the wood. But lo! of those Who call ’Christ, Christ,’ there shall be many found,
In judgment, further off from him by far, Than such, to whom his name was never known. Christians like these the Ethiop shall condemn: When that the two assemblages shall part; One rich eternally, the other poor.
"What may the Persians say unto your kings, When they shall see that volume, in the which All their dispraise is written, spread to view? There amidst Albert’s works shall that be read, Which will give speedy motion to the pen, When Prague shall mourn her desolated realm. There shall be read the woe, that he doth work With his adulterate money on the Seine, Who by the tusk will perish: there be read The thirsting pride, that maketh fool alike The English and Scot, impatient of their bound. There shall be seen the Spaniard’s luxury, The delicate living there of the Bohemian, Who still to worth has been a willing stranger. The halter of Jerusalem shall see A unit for his virtue, for his vices No less a mark than million. He, who guards The isle of fire by old Anchises honour’d Shall find his avarice there and cowardice; And better to denote his littleness, The writing must be letters maim’d, that speak Much in a narrow space. All there shall know His uncle and his brother’s filthy doings, Who so renown’d a nation and two crowns Have bastardized. And they, of Portugal And Norway, there shall be expos’d with him Of Ratza, who hath counterfeited ill The coin of Venice. O blest Hungary! If thou no longer patiently abid’st Thy ill-entreating! and, O blest Navarre! If with thy mountainous girdle thou wouldst arm thee In earnest of that day, e’en now are heard Wailings and groans in Famagosta’s streets And Nicosia’s, grudging at their beast, Who keepeth even footing with the rest."

CANTO XX

When, disappearing, from our hemisphere, The world’s enlightener vanishes, and day On all sides wasteth, suddenly the sky, Erewhile irradiate only with his beam, Is yet again unfolded, putting forth Innumerable lights wherein one shines. Of such vicissitude in heaven I thought, As the great sign, that marshaleth the world And the world’s leaders, in the blessed beak Was silent; for that all those living lights, Waxing in splendour, burst forth into songs, Such as from memory glide and fall away.
Sweet love! that dost apparel thee in smiles, How lustrous was thy semblance in those sparkles, Which merely are from holy thoughts inspir’d!
After the precious and bright beaming stones, That did ingem the sixth light, ceas’d the chiming Of their angelic bells; methought I heard The murmuring of a river, that doth fall From rock to rock transpicuous, making known The richness of his spring-head: and as sound Of cistern, at the fret-board, or of pipe, Is, at the wind-hole, modulate and tun’d; Thus up the neck, as it were hollow, rose That murmuring of the eagle, and forthwith Voice there assum’d, and thence along the beak Issued in form of words, such as my heart Did look for, on whose tables I inscrib’d them.
"The part in me, that sees, and bears the sun,, In mortal eagles," it began, "must now Be noted steadfastly: for of the fires, That figure me, those, glittering in mine eye, Are chief of all the greatest. This, that shines Midmost for pupil, was the same, who sang The Holy Spirit’s song, and bare about The ark from town to town; now doth he know The merit of his soul-impassion’d strains By their well-fitted guerdon. Of the five, That make the circle of the vision, he Who to the beak is nearest, comforted The widow for her son: now doth he know How dear he costeth not to follow Christ, Both from experience of this pleasant life, And of its opposite. He next, who follows In the circumference, for the over arch, By true repenting slack’d the pace of death: Now knoweth he, that the degrees of heav’n Alter not, when through pious prayer below Today’s is made tomorrow’s destiny. The other following, with the laws and me, To yield the shepherd room, pass’d o’er to Greece, From good intent producing evil fruit: Now knoweth he, how all the ill, deriv’d From his well doing, doth not helm him aught, Though it have brought destruction on the world. That, which thou seest in the under bow, Was William, whom that land bewails, which weeps For Charles and Frederick living: now he knows How well is lov’d in heav’n the righteous king, Which he betokens by his radiant seeming. Who in the erring world beneath would deem, That Trojan Ripheus in this round was set Fifth of the saintly splendours? now he knows Enough of that, which the world cannot see, The grace divine, albeit e’en his sight Reach not its utmost depth." Like to the lark, That warbling in the air expatiates long, Then, trilling out his last sweet melody, Drops satiate with the sweetness; such appear’d That image stampt by the’ everlasting pleasure, Which fashions like itself all lovely things.
I, though my doubting were as manifest, As is through glass the hue that mantles it, In silence waited not: for to my lips "What things are these?" involuntary rush’d, And forc’d a passage out: whereat I mark’d A sudden lightening and new revelry. The eye was kindled: and the blessed sign No more to keep me wond’ring and suspense, Replied: "I see that thou believ’st these things, Because I tell them, but discern’st not how; So that thy knowledge waits not on thy faith: As one who knows the name of thing by rote, But is a stranger to its properties, Till other’s tongue reveal them. Fervent love And lively hope with violence assail The kingdom of the heavens, and overcome The will of the Most high; not in such sort As man prevails o’er man; but conquers it, Because ’t is willing to be conquer’d, still, Though conquer’d, by its mercy conquering.
"Those, in the eye who live the first and fifth, Cause thee to marvel, in that thou behold’st The region of the angels deck’d with them. They quitted not their bodies, as thou deem’st, Gentiles but Christians, in firm rooted faith, This of the feet in future to be pierc’d, That of feet nail’d already to the cross. One from the barrier of the dark abyss, Where never any with good will returns, Came back unto his bones. Of lively hope Such was the meed; of lively hope, that wing’d The prayers sent up to God for his release, And put power into them to bend his will. The glorious Spirit, of whom I speak to thee, A little while returning to the flesh, Believ’d in him, who had the means to help, And, in believing, nourish’d such a flame Of holy love, that at the second death He was made sharer in our gamesome mirth. The other, through the riches of that grace, Which from so deep a fountain doth distil, As never eye created saw its rising, Plac’d all his love below on just and right: Wherefore of grace God op’d in him the eye To the redemption of mankind to come; Wherein believing, he endur’d no more The filth of paganism, and for their ways Rebuk’d the stubborn nations. The three nymphs, Whom at the right wheel thou beheldst advancing, Were sponsors for him more than thousand years Before baptizing. O how far remov’d, Predestination! is thy root from such As see not the First cause entire: and ye, O mortal men! be wary how ye judge: For we, who see our Maker, know not yet The number of the chosen: and esteem Such scantiness of knowledge our delight: For all our good is in that primal good Concentrate, and God’s will and ours are one."
So, by that form divine, was giv’n to me Sweet medicine to clear and strengthen sight, And, as one handling skillfully the harp, Attendant on some skilful songster’s voice Bids the chords vibrate, and therein the song Acquires more pleasure; so, the whilst it spake, It doth remember me, that I beheld The pair of blessed luminaries move. Like the accordant twinkling of two eyes, Their beamy circlets, dancing to the sounds.

CANTO XXI

Again mine eyes were fix’d on Beatrice, And with mine eyes my soul, that in her looks Found all contentment. Yet no smile she wore And, "Did I smile," quoth she, "thou wouldst be straight Like Semele when into ashes turn’d: For, mounting these eternal palace-stairs, My beauty, which the loftier it climbs, As thou hast noted, still doth kindle more, So shines, that, were no temp’ring interpos’d, Thy mortal puissance would from its rays Shrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt. Into the seventh splendour are we wafted, That underneath the burning lion’s breast Beams, in this hour, commingled with his might, Thy mind be with thine eyes: and in them mirror’d The shape, which in this mirror shall be shown." Whoso can deem, how fondly I had fed My sight upon her blissful countenance, May know, when to new thoughts I chang’d, what joy To do the bidding of my heav’nly guide: In equal balance poising either weight.
Within the crystal, which records the name, (As its remoter circle girds the world) Of that lov’d monarch, in whose happy reign No ill had power to harm, I saw rear’d up, In colour like to sun-illumin’d gold. A ladder, which my ken pursued in vain, So lofty was the summit; down whose steps I saw the splendours in such multitude Descending, ev’ry light in heav’n, methought, Was shed thence. As the rooks, at dawn of day Bestirring them to dry their feathers chill, Some speed their way a-field, and homeward some, Returning, cross their flight, while some abide And wheel around their airy lodge; so seem’d That glitterance, wafted on alternate wing, As upon certain stair it met, and clash’d Its shining. And one ling’ring near us, wax’d So bright, that in my thought: said: "The love, Which this betokens me, admits no doubt."
Unwillingly from question I refrain, To her, by whom my silence and my speech Are order’d, looking for a sign: whence she, Who in the sight of Him, that seeth all, Saw wherefore I was silent, prompted me T’ indulge the fervent wish; and I began: "I am not worthy, of my own desert, That thou shouldst answer me; but for her sake, Who hath vouchsaf’d my asking, spirit blest! That in thy joy art shrouded! say the cause, Which bringeth thee so near: and wherefore, say, Doth the sweet symphony of Paradise Keep silence here, pervading with such sounds Of rapt devotion ev’ry lower sphere?" "Mortal art thou in hearing as in sight;" Was the reply: "and what forbade the smile Of Beatrice interrupts our song. Only to yield thee gladness of my voice, And of the light that vests me, I thus far Descend these hallow’d steps: not that more love Invites me; for lo! there aloft, as much Or more of love is witness’d in those flames: But such my lot by charity assign’d, That makes us ready servants, as thou seest, To execute the counsel of the Highest. "That in this court," said I, "O sacred lamp! Love no compulsion needs, but follows free Th’ eternal Providence, I well discern: This harder find to deem, why of thy peers Thou only to this office wert foredoom’d." I had not ended, when, like rapid mill, Upon its centre whirl’d the light; and then The love, that did inhabit there, replied: "Splendour eternal, piercing through these folds, Its virtue to my vision knits, and thus Supported, lifts me so above myself, That on the sov’ran essence, which it wells from, I have the power to gaze: and hence the joy, Wherewith I sparkle, equaling with my blaze The keenness of my sight. But not the soul, That is in heav’n most lustrous, nor the seraph That hath his eyes most fix’d on God, shall solve What thou hast ask’d: for in th’ abyss it lies Of th’ everlasting statute sunk so low, That no created ken may fathom it. And, to the mortal world when thou return’st, Be this reported; that none henceforth dare Direct his footsteps to so dread a bourn. The mind, that here is radiant, on the earth Is wrapt in mist. Look then if she may do, Below, what passeth her ability, When she is ta’en to heav’n." By words like these Admonish’d, I the question urg’d no more; And of the spirit humbly sued alone T’ instruct me of its state. "’Twixt either shore Of Italy, nor distant from thy land, A stony ridge ariseth, in such sort, The thunder doth not lift his voice so high, They call it Catria: at whose foot a cell Is sacred to the lonely Eremite, For worship set apart and holy rites." A third time thus it spake; then added: "There So firmly to God’s service I adher’d, That with no costlier viands than the juice Of olives, easily I pass’d the heats Of summer and the winter frosts, content In heav’n-ward musings. Rich were the returns And fertile, which that cloister once was us’d To render to these heavens: now ’t is fall’n Into a waste so empty, that ere long Detection must lay bare its vanity Pietro Damiano there was I y-clept: Pietro the sinner, when before I dwelt Beside the Adriatic, in the house Of our blest Lady. Near upon my close Of mortal life, through much importuning I was constrain’d to wear the hat that still From bad to worse it shifted.—Cephas came; He came, who was the Holy Spirit’s vessel, Barefoot and lean, eating their bread, as chanc’d, At the first table. Modern Shepherd’s need Those who on either hand may prop and lead them, So burly are they grown: and from behind Others to hoist them. Down the palfrey’s sides Spread their broad mantles, so as both the beasts Are cover’d with one skin. O patience! thou That lookst on this and doth endure so long." I at those accents saw the splendours down From step to step alight, and wheel, and wax, Each circuiting, more beautiful. Round this They came, and stay’d them; uttered them a shout So loud, it hath no likeness here: nor I Wist what it spake, so deaf’ning was the thunder.

CANTO XXII

Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turn’d me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most, And she was like the mother, who her son Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice Soothes him, and he is cheer’d; for thus she spake, Soothing me: "Know’st not thou, thou art in heav’n? And know’st not thou, whatever is in heav’n, Is holy, and that nothing there is done But is done zealously and well? Deem now, What change in thee the song, and what my smile had wrought, since thus the shout had pow’r to move thee. In which couldst thou have understood their prayers, The vengeance were already known to thee, Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour, The sword of heav’n is not in haste to smite, Nor yet doth linger, save unto his seeming, Who in desire or fear doth look for it. But elsewhere now l bid thee turn thy view; So shalt thou many a famous spirit behold." Mine eyes directing, as she will’d, I saw A hundred little spheres, that fairer grew By interchange of splendour. I remain’d, As one, who fearful of o’er-much presuming, Abates in him the keenness of desire, Nor dares to question, when amid those pearls, One largest and most lustrous onward drew, That it might yield contentment to my wish; And from within it these the sounds I heard.
"If thou, like me, beheldst the charity That burns amongst us, what thy mind conceives, Were utter’d. But that, ere the lofty bound Thou reach, expectance may not weary thee, I will make answer even to the thought, Which thou hast such respect of. In old days, That mountain, at whose side Cassino rests, Was on its height frequented by a race Deceived and ill dispos’d: and I it was, Who thither carried first the name of Him, Who brought the soul-subliming truth to man. And such a speeding grace shone over me, That from their impious worship I reclaim’d The dwellers round about, who with the world Were in delusion lost. These other flames, The spirits of men contemplative, were all Enliven’d by that warmth, whose kindly force Gives birth to flowers and fruits of holiness. Here is Macarius; Romoaldo here: And here my brethren, who their steps refrain’d Within the cloisters, and held firm their heart."
I answ’ring, thus; "Thy gentle words and kind, And this the cheerful semblance, I behold Not unobservant, beaming in ye all, Have rais’d assurance in me, wakening it Full-blossom’d in my bosom, as a rose Before the sun, when the consummate flower Has spread to utmost amplitude. Of thee Therefore entreat I, father! to declare If I may gain such favour, as to gaze Upon thine image, by no covering veil’d."
"Brother!" he thus rejoin’d, "in the last sphere Expect completion of thy lofty aim, For there on each desire completion waits, And there on mine: where every aim is found Perfect, entire, and for fulfillment ripe. There all things are as they have ever been: For space is none to bound, nor pole divides, Our ladder reaches even to that clime, And so at giddy distance mocks thy view. Thither the Patriarch Jacob saw it stretch Its topmost round, when it appear’d to him With angels laden. But to mount it now None lifts his foot from earth: and hence my rule Is left a profitless stain upon the leaves; The walls, for abbey rear’d, turned into dens, The cowls to sacks choak’d up with musty meal. Foul usury doth not more lift itself Against God’s pleasure, than that fruit which makes The hearts of monks so wanton: for whate’er Is in the church’s keeping, all pertains. To such, as sue for heav’n’s sweet sake, and not To those who in respect of kindred claim, Or on more vile allowance. Mortal flesh Is grown so dainty, good beginnings last not From the oak’s birth, unto the acorn’s setting. His convent Peter founded without gold Or silver; I with pray’rs and fasting mine; And Francis his in meek humility. And if thou note the point, whence each proceeds, Then look what it hath err’d to, thou shalt find The white grown murky. Jordan was turn’d back; And a less wonder, then the refluent sea, May at God’s pleasure work amendment here."
So saying, to his assembly back he drew: And they together cluster’d into one, Then all roll’d upward like an eddying wind.
The sweet dame beckon’d me to follow them: And, by that influence only, so prevail’d Over my nature, that no natural motion, Ascending or descending here below, Had, as I mounted, with my pennon vied.
So, reader, as my hope is to return Unto the holy triumph, for the which I ofttimes wail my sins, and smite my breast, Thou hadst been longer drawing out and thrusting Thy finger in the fire, than I was, ere The sign, that followeth Taurus, I beheld, And enter’d its precinct. O glorious stars! O light impregnate with exceeding virtue! To whom whate’er of genius lifteth me Above the vulgar, grateful I refer; With ye the parent of all mortal life Arose and set, when I did first inhale The Tuscan air; and afterward, when grace Vouchsaf’d me entrance to the lofty wheel That in its orb impels ye, fate decreed My passage at your clime. To you my soul Devoutly sighs, for virtue even now To meet the hard emprize that draws me on.
"Thou art so near the sum of blessedness," Said Beatrice, "that behooves thy ken Be vigilant and clear. And, to this end, Or even thou advance thee further, hence Look downward, and contemplate, what a world Already stretched under our feet there lies: So as thy heart may, in its blithest mood, Present itself to the triumphal throng, Which through the’ etherial concave comes rejoicing."
I straight obey’d; and with mine eye return’d Through all the seven spheres, and saw this globe So pitiful of semblance, that perforce It moved my smiles: and him in truth I hold For wisest, who esteems it least: whose thoughts Elsewhere are fix’d, him worthiest call and best. I saw the daughter of Latona shine Without the shadow, whereof late I deem’d That dense and rare were cause. Here I sustain’d The visage, Hyperion! of thy sun; And mark’d, how near him with their circle, round Move Maia and Dione; here discern’d Jove’s tempering ’twixt his sire and son; and hence Their changes and their various aspects Distinctly scann’d. Nor might I not descry Of all the seven, how bulky each, how swift; Nor of their several distances not learn. This petty area (o’er the which we stride So fiercely), as along the eternal twins I wound my way, appear’d before me all, Forth from the havens stretch’d unto the hills. Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes return’d.

CANTO XXIII

E’en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night, With her sweet brood, impatient to descry Their wished looks, and to bring home their food, In the fond quest unconscious of her toil: She, of the time prevenient, on the spray, That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze Expects the sun; nor ever, till the dawn, Removeth from the east her eager ken; So stood the dame erect, and bent her glance Wistfully on that region, where the sun Abateth most his speed; that, seeing her Suspense and wand’ring, I became as one, In whom desire is waken’d, and the hope Of somewhat new to come fills with delight.
Short space ensued; I was not held, I say, Long in expectance, when I saw the heav’n Wax more and more resplendent; and, "Behold," Cried Beatrice, "the triumphal hosts Of Christ, and all the harvest reap’d at length Of thy ascending up these spheres." Meseem’d, That, while she spake her image all did burn, And in her eyes such fullness was of joy, And I am fain to pass unconstrued by.
As in the calm full moon, when Trivia smiles, In peerless beauty, ’mid th’ eternal nympus, That paint through all its gulfs the blue profound In bright pre-eminence so saw I there, O’er million lamps a sun, from whom all drew Their radiance as from ours the starry train: And through the living light so lustrous glow’d The substance, that my ken endur’d it not.
O Beatrice! sweet and precious guide! Who cheer’d me with her comfortable words! "Against the virtue, that o’erpow’reth thee, Avails not to resist. Here is the might, And here the wisdom, which did open lay The path, that had been yearned for so long, Betwixt the heav’n and earth." Like to the fire, That, in a cloud imprison’d doth break out Expansive, so that from its womb enlarg’d, It falleth against nature to the ground; Thus in that heav’nly banqueting my soul Outgrew herself; and, in the transport lost. Holds now remembrance none of what she was.
"Ope thou thine eyes, and mark me: thou hast seen Things, that empower thee to sustain my smile."
I was as one, when a forgotten dream Doth come across him, and he strives in vain To shape it in his fantasy again, Whenas that gracious boon was proffer’d me, Which never may be cancel’d from the book, Wherein the past is written. Now were all Those tongues to sound, that have on sweetest milk Of Polyhymnia and her sisters fed And fatten’d, not with all their help to boot, Unto the thousandth parcel of the truth, My song might shadow forth that saintly smile, flow merely in her saintly looks it wrought. And with such figuring of Paradise The sacred strain must leap, like one, that meets A sudden interruption to his road. But he, who thinks how ponderous the theme, And that ’t is lain upon a mortal shoulder, May pardon, if it tremble with the burden. The track, our ventrous keel must furrow, brooks No unribb’d pinnace, no self-sparing pilot.
"Why doth my face," said Beatrice, "thus Enamour thee, as that thou dost not turn Unto the beautiful garden, blossoming Beneath the rays of Christ? Here is the rose, Wherein the word divine was made incarnate; And here the lilies, by whose odour known The way of life was follow’d." Prompt I heard Her bidding, and encounter once again The strife of aching vision. As erewhile, Through glance of sunlight, stream’d through broken cloud, Mine eyes a flower-besprinkled mead have seen, Though veil’d themselves in shade; so saw I there Legions of splendours, on whom burning rays Shed lightnings from above, yet saw I not The fountain whence they flow’d. O gracious virtue! Thou, whose broad stamp is on them, higher up Thou didst exalt thy glory to give room To my o’erlabour’d sight: when at the name Of that fair flower, whom duly I invoke Both morn and eve, my soul, with all her might Collected, on the goodliest ardour fix’d. And, as the bright dimensions of the star In heav’n excelling, as once here on earth Were, in my eyeballs lively portray’d, Lo! from within the sky a cresset fell, Circling in fashion of a diadem, And girt the star, and hov’ring round it wheel’d.
Whatever melody sounds sweetest here, And draws the spirit most unto itself, Might seem a rent cloud when it grates the thunder, Compar’d unto the sounding of that lyre, Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, that inlays The floor of heav’n, was crown’d. " Angelic Love I am, who thus with hov’ring flight enwheel The lofty rapture from that womb inspir’d, Where our desire did dwell: and round thee so, Lady of Heav’n! will hover; long as thou Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy Shall from thy presence gild the highest sphere."
Such close was to the circling melody: And, as it ended, all the other lights Took up the strain, and echoed Mary’s name.
The robe, that with its regal folds enwraps The world, and with the nearer breath of God Doth burn and quiver, held so far retir’d Its inner hem and skirting over us, That yet no glimmer of its majesty Had stream’d unto me: therefore were mine eyes Unequal to pursue the crowned flame, That rose and sought its natal seed of fire; And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms For very eagerness towards the breast, After the milk is taken; so outstretch’d Their wavy summits all the fervent band, Through zealous love to Mary: then in view There halted, and "Regina Coeli " sang So sweetly, the delight hath left me never.
O what o’erflowing plenty is up-pil’d In those rich-laden coffers, which below Sow’d the good seed, whose harvest now they keep.
Here are the treasures tasted, that with tears Were in the Babylonian exile won, When gold had fail’d them. Here in synod high Of ancient council with the new conven’d, Under the Son of Mary and of God, Victorious he his mighty triumph holds, To whom the keys of glory were assign’d.

CANTO XXIV

"O ye! in chosen fellowship advanc’d To the great supper of the blessed Lamb, Whereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill’d! If to this man through God’s grace be vouchsaf’d Foretaste of that, which from your table falls, Or ever death his fated term prescribe; Be ye not heedless of his urgent will; But may some influence of your sacred dews Sprinkle him. Of the fount ye alway drink, Whence flows what most he craves." Beatrice spake, And the rejoicing spirits, like to spheres On firm-set poles revolving, trail’d a blaze Of comet splendour; and as wheels, that wind Their circles in the horologe, so work The stated rounds, that to th’ observant eye The first seems still, and, as it flew, the last; E’en thus their carols weaving variously, They by the measure pac’d, or swift, or slow, Made me to rate the riches of their joy.
From that, which I did note in beauty most Excelling, saw I issue forth a flame So bright, as none was left more goodly there. Round Beatrice thrice it wheel’d about, With so divine a song, that fancy’s ear Records it not; and the pen passeth on And leaves a blank: for that our mortal speech, Nor e’en the inward shaping of the brain, Hath colours fine enough to trace such folds.
"O saintly sister mine! thy prayer devout Is with so vehement affection urg’d, Thou dost unbind me from that beauteous sphere."
Such were the accents towards my lady breath’d From that blest ardour, soon as it was stay’d: To whom she thus: "O everlasting light Of him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss He bare below! tent this man, as thou wilt, With lighter probe or deep, touching the faith, By the which thou didst on the billows walk. If he in love, in hope, and in belief, Be steadfast, is not hid from thee: for thou Hast there thy ken, where all things are beheld In liveliest portraiture. But since true faith Has peopled this fair realm with citizens, Meet is, that to exalt its glory more, Thou in his audience shouldst thereof discourse."
Like to the bachelor, who arms himself, And speaks not, till the master have propos’d The question, to approve, and not to end it; So I, in silence, arm’d me, while she spake, Summoning up each argument to aid; As was behooveful for such questioner, And such profession: "As good Christian ought, Declare thee, What is faith?" Whereat I rais’d My forehead to the light, whence this had breath’d, Then turn’d to Beatrice, and in her looks Approval met, that from their inmost fount I should unlock the waters. "May the grace, That giveth me the captain of the church For confessor," said I, "vouchsafe to me Apt utterance for my thoughts!" then added: "Sire! E’en as set down by the unerring style Of thy dear brother, who with thee conspir’d To bring Rome in unto the way of life, Faith of things hop’d is substance, and the proof Of things not seen; and herein doth consist Methinks its essence,"—" Rightly hast thou deem’d," Was answer’d: "if thou well discern, why first He hath defin’d it, substance, and then proof."
"The deep things," I replied, "which here I scan Distinctly, are below from mortal eye So hidden, they have in belief alone Their being, on which credence hope sublime Is built; and therefore substance it intends. And inasmuch as we must needs infer From such belief our reasoning, all respect To other view excluded, hence of proof Th’ intention is deriv’d." Forthwith I heard: "If thus, whate’er by learning men attain, Were understood, the sophist would want room To exercise his wit." So breath’d the flame Of love: then added: "Current is the coin Thou utter’st, both in weight and in alloy. But tell me, if thou hast it in thy purse."
"Even so glittering and so round," said I, "I not a whit misdoubt of its assay."
Next issued from the deep imbosom’d splendour: "Say, whence the costly jewel, on the which Is founded every virtue, came to thee." "The flood," I answer’d, "from the Spirit of God Rain’d down upon the ancient bond and new,— Here is the reas’ning, that convinceth me So feelingly, each argument beside Seems blunt and forceless in comparison." Then heard I: "Wherefore holdest thou that each, The elder proposition and the new, Which so persuade thee, are the voice of heav’n?"
"The works, that follow’d, evidence their truth; " I answer’d: "Nature did not make for these The iron hot, or on her anvil mould them." "Who voucheth to thee of the works themselves, Was the reply, "that they in very deed Are that they purport? None hath sworn so to thee."
"That all the world," said I, "should have bee turn’d To Christian, and no miracle been wrought, Would in itself be such a miracle, The rest were not an hundredth part so great. E’en thou wentst forth in poverty and hunger To set the goodly plant, that from the vine, It once was, now is grown unsightly bramble." That ended, through the high celestial court Resounded all the spheres. "Praise we one God!" In song of most unearthly melody. And when that Worthy thus, from branch to branch, Examining, had led me, that we now Approach’d the topmost bough, he straight resum’d; "The grace, that holds sweet dalliance with thy soul, So far discreetly hath thy lips unclos’d That, whatsoe’er has past them, I commend. Behooves thee to express, what thou believ’st, The next, and whereon thy belief hath grown."
"O saintly sire and spirit!" I began, "Who seest that, which thou didst so believe, As to outstrip feet younger than thine own, Toward the sepulchre? thy will is here, That I the tenour of my creed unfold; And thou the cause of it hast likewise ask’d. And I reply: I in one God believe, One sole eternal Godhead, of whose love All heav’n is mov’d, himself unmov’d the while. Nor demonstration physical alone, Or more intelligential and abstruse, Persuades me to this faith; but from that truth It cometh to me rather, which is shed Through Moses, the rapt Prophets, and the Psalms. The Gospel, and that ye yourselves did write, When ye were gifted of the Holy Ghost. In three eternal Persons I believe, Essence threefold and one, mysterious league Of union absolute, which, many a time, The word of gospel lore upon my mind Imprints: and from this germ, this firstling spark, The lively flame dilates, and like heav’n’s star Doth glitter in me." As the master hears, Well pleas’d, and then enfoldeth in his arms The servant, who hath joyful tidings brought, And having told the errand keeps his peace; Thus benediction uttering with song Soon as my peace I held, compass’d me thrice The apostolic radiance, whose behest Had op’d lips; so well their answer pleas’d.

CANTO XXV

If e’er the sacred poem that hath made Both heav’n and earth copartners in its toil, And with lean abstinence, through many a year, Faded my brow, be destin’d to prevail Over the cruelty, which bars me forth Of the fair sheep-fold, where a sleeping lamb The wolves set on and fain had worried me, With other voice and fleece of other grain I shall forthwith return, and, standing up At my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath Due to the poet’s temples: for I there First enter’d on the faith which maketh souls Acceptable to God: and, for its sake, Peter had then circled my forehead thus.
Next from the squadron, whence had issued forth The first fruit of Christ’s vicars on the earth, Toward us mov’d a light, at view whereof My Lady, full of gladness, spake to me: "Lo! lo! behold the peer of mickle might, That makes Falicia throng’d with visitants!"
As when the ring-dove by his mate alights, In circles each about the other wheels, And murmuring cooes his fondness; thus saw I One, of the other great and glorious prince, With kindly greeting hail’d, extolling both Their heavenly banqueting; but when an end Was to their gratulation, silent, each, Before me sat they down, so burning bright, I could not look upon them. Smiling then, Beatrice spake: "O life in glory shrin’d!" Who didst the largess of our kingly court Set down with faithful pen! let now thy voice Of hope the praises in this height resound. For thou, who figur’st them in shapes, as clear, As Jesus stood before thee, well can’st speak them."
"Lift up thy head, and be thou strong in trust: For that, which hither from the mortal world Arriveth, must be ripen’d in our beam."
Such cheering accents from the second flame Assur’d me; and mine eyes I lifted up Unto the mountains that had bow’d them late With over-heavy burden. "Sith our Liege Wills of his grace that thou, or ere thy death, In the most secret council, with his lords Shouldst be confronted, so that having view’d The glories of our court, thou mayst therewith Thyself, and all who hear, invigorate With hope, that leads to blissful end; declare, What is that hope, how it doth flourish in thee, And whence thou hadst it?" Thus proceeding still, The second light: and she, whose gentle love My soaring pennons in that lofty flight Escorted, thus preventing me, rejoin’d: Among her sons, not one more full of hope, Hath the church militant: so ’t is of him Recorded in the sun, whose liberal orb Enlighteneth all our tribe: and ere his term Of warfare, hence permitted he is come, From Egypt to Jerusalem, to see. The other points, both which thou hast inquir’d, Not for more knowledge, but that he may tell How dear thou holdst the virtue, these to him Leave I; for he may answer thee with ease, And without boasting, so God give him grace." Like to the scholar, practis’d in his task, Who, willing to give proof of diligence, Seconds his teacher gladly, "Hope," said I, "Is of the joy to come a sure expectance, Th’ effect of grace divine and merit preceding. This light from many a star visits my heart, But flow’d to me the first from him, who sang The songs of the Supreme, himself supreme Among his tuneful brethren. ’Let all hope In thee,’ so speak his anthem, ’who have known Thy name;’ and with my faith who know not that? From thee, the next, distilling from his spring, In thine epistle, fell on me the drops So plenteously, that I on others shower The influence of their dew." Whileas I spake, A lamping, as of quick and vollied lightning, Within the bosom of that mighty sheen, Play’d tremulous; then forth these accents breath’d: "Love for the virtue which attended me E’en to the palm, and issuing from the field, Glows vigorous yet within me, and inspires To ask of thee, whom also it delights; What promise thou from hope in chief dost win."
"Both scriptures, new and ancient," I reply’d; "Propose the mark (which even now I view) For souls belov’d of God. Isaias saith,
That, in their own land, each one must be clad In twofold vesture; and their proper lands this delicious life. In terms more full, And clearer far, thy brother hath set forth This revelation to us, where he tells Of the white raiment destin’d to the saints." And, as the words were ending, from above, "They hope in thee," first heard we cried: whereto Answer’d the carols all. Amidst them next, A light of so clear amplitude emerg’d, That winter’s month were but a single day, Were such a crystal in the Cancer’s sign.
Like as a virgin riseth up, and goes, And enters on the mazes of the dance, Though gay, yet innocent of worse intent, Than to do fitting honour to the bride; So I beheld the new effulgence come Unto the other two, who in a ring Wheel’d, as became their rapture. In the dance And in the song it mingled. And the dame Held on them fix’d her looks: e’en as the spouse Silent and moveless. "This is he, who lay Upon the bosom of our pelican: This he, into whose keeping from the cross The mighty charge was given." Thus she spake, Yet therefore naught the more remov’d her Sight From marking them, or ere her words began, Or when they clos’d. As he, who looks intent, And strives with searching ken, how he may see The sun in his eclipse, and, through desire Of seeing, loseth power of sight: so I Peer’d on that last resplendence, while I heard: "Why dazzlest thou thine eyes in seeking that, Which here abides not? Earth my body is, In earth: and shall be, with the rest, so long, As till our number equal the decree Of the Most High. The two that have ascended, In this our blessed cloister, shine alone With the two garments. So report below."
As when, for ease of labour, or to shun Suspected peril at a whistle’s breath, The oars, erewhile dash’d frequent in the wave, All rest; the flamy circle at that voice So rested, and the mingling sound was still, Which from the trinal band soft-breathing rose. I turn’d, but ah! how trembled in my thought, When, looking at my side again to see Beatrice, I descried her not, although Not distant, on the happy coast she stood.

CANTO XXVI

With dazzled eyes, whilst wond’ring I remain’d, Forth of the beamy flame which dazzled me, Issued a breath, that in attention mute Detain’d me; and these words it spake: "’T were well, That, long as till thy vision, on my form O’erspent, regain its virtue, with discourse Thou compensate the brief delay. Say then, Beginning, to what point thy soul aspires: And meanwhile rest assur’d, that sight in thee Is but o’erpowered a space, not wholly quench’d: Since thy fair guide and lovely, in her look Hath potency, the like to that which dwelt In Ananias’ hand." I answering thus: "Be to mine eyes the remedy or late Or early, at her pleasure; for they were The gates, at which she enter’d, and did light Her never dying fire. My wishes here Are centered; in this palace is the weal, That Alpha and Omega, is to all The lessons love can read me." Yet again The voice which had dispers’d my fear, when daz’d With that excess, to converse urg’d, and spake: "Behooves thee sift more narrowly thy terms, And say, who level’d at this scope thy bow."
"Philosophy," said I, "hath arguments, And this place hath authority enough ’T’ imprint in me such love: for, of constraint, Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good, Kindles our love, and in degree the more, As it comprises more of goodness in ’t. The essence then, where such advantage is, That each good, found without it, is naught else But of his light the beam, must needs attract The soul of each one, loving, who the truth Discerns, on which this proof is built. Such truth Learn I from him, who shows me the first love Of all intelligential substances Eternal: from his voice I learn, whose word Is truth, that of himself to Moses saith, ’I will make all my good before thee pass.’ Lastly from thee I learn, who chief proclaim’st, E’en at the outset of thy heralding, In mortal ears the mystery of heav’n."
"Through human wisdom, and th’ authority Therewith agreeing," heard I answer’d, "keep The choicest of thy love for God. But say, If thou yet other cords within thee feel’st That draw thee towards him; so that thou report How many are the fangs, with which this love Is grappled to thy soul." I did not miss, To what intent the eagle of our Lord Had pointed his demand; yea noted well Th’ avowal, which he led to; and resum’d: "All grappling bonds, that knit the heart to God, Confederate to make fast our clarity. The being of the world, and mine own being, The death which he endur’d that I should live, And that, which all the faithful hope, as I do, To the foremention’d lively knowledge join’d, Have from the sea of ill love sav’d my bark, And on the coast secur’d it of the right. As for the leaves, that in the garden bloom, My love for them is great, as is the good Dealt by th’ eternal hand, that tends them all."
I ended, and therewith a song most sweet Rang through the spheres; and "Holy, holy, holy," Accordant with the rest my lady sang. And as a sleep is broken and dispers’d Through sharp encounter of the nimble light, With the eye’s spirit running forth to meet The ray, from membrane on to the membrane urg’d; And the upstartled wight loathes that be sees; So, at his sudden waking, he misdeems Of all around him, till assurance waits On better judgment: thus the saintly came Drove from before mine eyes the motes away, With the resplendence of her own, that cast Their brightness downward, thousand miles below. Whence I my vision, clearer shall before, Recover’d; and, well nigh astounded, ask’d Of a fourth light, that now with us I saw.
And Beatrice: "The first diving soul, That ever the first virtue fram’d, admires Within these rays his Maker." Like the leaf, That bows its lithe top till the blast is blown; By its own virtue rear’d then stands aloof; So I, the whilst she said, awe-stricken bow’d. Then eagerness to speak embolden’d me; And I began: "O fruit! that wast alone Mature, when first engender’d! Ancient father! That doubly seest in every wedded bride Thy daughter by affinity and blood! Devoutly as I may, I pray thee hold Converse with me: my will thou seest; and I, More speedily to hear thee, tell it not "
It chanceth oft some animal bewrays, Through the sleek cov’ring of his furry coat. The fondness, that stirs in him and conforms His outside seeming to the cheer within: And in like guise was Adam’s spirit mov’d To joyous mood, that through the covering shone, Transparent, when to pleasure me it spake: "No need thy will be told, which I untold Better discern, than thou whatever thing Thou holdst most certain: for that will I see In Him, who is truth’s mirror, and Himself Parhelion unto all things, and naught else To him. This wouldst thou hear; how long since God Plac’d me high garden, from whose hounds She led me up in this ladder, steep and long; What space endur’d my season of delight; Whence truly sprang the wrath that banish’d me; And what the language, which I spake and fram’d Not that I tasted of the tree, my son, Was in itself the cause of that exile, But only my transgressing of the mark Assign’d me. There, whence at thy lady’s hest The Mantuan mov’d him, still was I debarr’d This council, till the sun had made complete, Four thousand and three hundred rounds and twice, His annual journey; and, through every light In his broad pathway, saw I him return, Thousand save sev’nty times, the whilst I dwelt Upon the earth. The language I did use Was worn away, or ever Nimrod’s race Their unaccomplishable work began. For naught, that man inclines to, ere was lasting, Left by his reason free, and variable, As is the sky that sways him. That he speaks, Is nature’s prompting: whether thus or thus, She leaves to you, as ye do most affect it. Ere I descended into hell’s abyss, El was the name on earth of the Chief Good, Whose joy enfolds me: Eli then ’t was call’d And so beseemeth: for, in mortals, use Is as the leaf upon the bough; that goes, And other comes instead. Upon the mount Most high above the waters, all my life, Both innocent and guilty, did but reach From the first hour, to that which cometh next (As the sun changes quarter), to the sixth.

CANTO XXVII

Then "Glory to the Father, to the Son, And to the Holy Spirit," rang aloud Throughout all Paradise, that with the song My spirit reel’d, so passing sweet the strain: And what I saw was equal ecstasy; One universal smile it seem’d of all things, Joy past compare, gladness unutterable, Imperishable life of peace and love, Exhaustless riches and unmeasur’d bliss.
Before mine eyes stood the four torches lit; And that, which first had come, began to wax In brightness, and in semblance such became, As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds, And interchang’d their plumes. Silence ensued, Through the blest quire, by Him, who here appoints Vicissitude of ministry, enjoin’d; When thus I heard: "Wonder not, if my hue Be chang’d; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see All in like manner change with me. My place He who usurps on earth (my place, ay, mine, Which in the presence of the Son of God Is void), the same hath made my cemetery A common sewer of puddle and of blood: The more below his triumph, who from hence Malignant fell." Such colour, as the sun, At eve or morning, paints and adverse cloud, Then saw I sprinkled over all the sky. And as th’ unblemish’d dame, who in herself Secure of censure, yet at bare report Of other’s failing, shrinks with maiden fear; So Beatrice in her semblance chang’d: And such eclipse in heav’n methinks was seen, When the Most Holy suffer’d. Then the words Proceeded, with voice, alter’d from itself So clean, the semblance did not alter more. "Not to this end was Christ’s spouse with my blood, With that of Linus, and of Cletus fed: That she might serve for purchase of base gold: But for the purchase of this happy life Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed, And Urban, they, whose doom was not without Much weeping seal’d. No purpose was of our That on the right hand of our successors Part of the Christian people should be set, And part upon their left; nor that the keys, Which were vouchsaf’d me, should for ensign serve Unto the banners, that do levy war On the baptiz’d: nor I, for sigil-mark Set upon sold and lying privileges; Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red. In shepherd’s clothing greedy wolves below Range wide o’er all the pastures. Arm of God! Why longer sleepst thou? Caorsines and Gascona Prepare to quaff our blood. O good beginning To what a vile conclusion must thou stoop! But the high providence, which did defend Through Scipio the world’s glory unto Rome, Will not delay its succour: and thou, son, Who through thy mortal weight shall yet again Return below, open thy lips, nor hide What is by me not hidden." As a Hood Of frozen vapours streams adown the air, What time the she-goat with her skiey horn Touches the sun; so saw I there stream wide The vapours, who with us had linger’d late And with glad triumph deck th’ ethereal cope. Onward my sight their semblances pursued; So far pursued, as till the space between From its reach sever’d them: whereat the guide Celestial, marking me no more intent On upward gazing, said, "Look down and see What circuit thou hast compass’d." From the hour When I before had cast my view beneath, All the first region overpast I saw, Which from the midmost to the bound’ry winds; That onward thence from Gades I beheld The unwise passage of Laertes’ son, And hitherward the shore, where thou, Europa! Mad’st thee a joyful burden: and yet more Of this dim spot had seen, but that the sun, A constellation off and more, had ta’en His progress in the zodiac underneath.
Then by the spirit, that doth never leave Its amorous dalliance with my lady’s looks, Back with redoubled ardour were mine eyes Led unto her: and from her radiant smiles, Whenas I turn’d me, pleasure so divine Did lighten on me, that whatever bait Or art or nature in the human flesh, Or in its limn’d resemblance, can combine Through greedy eyes to take the soul withal, Were to her beauty nothing. Its boon influence From the fair nest of Leda rapt me forth, And wafted on into the swiftest heav’n.
What place for entrance Beatrice chose, I may not say, so uniform was all, Liveliest and loftiest. She my secret wish Divin’d; and with such gladness, that God’s love Seem’d from her visage shining, thus began: "Here is the goal, whence motion on his race Starts; motionless the centre, and the rest All mov’d around. Except the soul divine, Place in this heav’n is none, the soul divine, Wherein the love, which ruleth o’er its orb, Is kindled, and the virtue that it sheds; One circle, light and love, enclasping it, As this doth clasp the others; and to Him, Who draws the bound, its limit only known. Measur’d itself by none, it doth divide Motion to all, counted unto them forth, As by the fifth or half ye count forth ten. The vase, wherein time’s roots are plung’d, thou seest, Look elsewhere for the leaves. O mortal lust! That canst not lift thy head above the waves Which whelm and sink thee down! The will in man Bears goodly blossoms; but its ruddy promise Is, by the dripping of perpetual rain, Made mere abortion: faith and innocence Are met with but in babes, each taking leave Ere cheeks with down are sprinkled; he, that fasts, While yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose Gluts every food alike in every moon. One yet a babbler, loves and listens to His mother; but no sooner hath free use Of speech, than he doth wish her in her grave. So suddenly doth the fair child of him, Whose welcome is the morn and eve his parting, To negro blackness change her virgin white.
"Thou, to abate thy wonder, note that none Bears rule in earth, and its frail family Are therefore wand’rers. Yet before the date, When through the hundredth in his reck’ning drops Pale January must be shor’d aside From winter’s calendar, these heav’nly spheres Shall roar so loud, that fortune shall be fain To turn the poop, where she hath now the prow; So that the fleet run onward; and true fruit, Expected long, shall crown at last the bloom!"

CANTO XXVIII

So she who doth imparadise my soul, Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life, And bar’d the truth of poor mortality; When lo! as one who, in a mirror, spies The shining of a flambeau at his back, Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach, And turneth to resolve him, if the glass Have told him true, and sees the record faithful As note is to its metre; even thus, I well remember, did befall to me, Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence love Had made the leash to take me. As I turn’d; And that, which, in their circles, none who spies, Can miss of, in itself apparent, struck On mine; a point I saw, that darted light So sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear up Against its keenness. The least star we view From hence, had seem’d a moon, set by its side, As star by side of star. And so far off, Perchance, as is the halo from the light Which paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads, There wheel’d about the point a circle of fire, More rapid than the motion, which first girds The world. Then, circle after circle, round Enring’d each other; till the seventh reach’d Circumference so ample, that its bow, Within the span of Juno’s messenger, lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev’nth, Follow’d yet other two. And every one, As more in number distant from the first, Was tardier in motion; and that glow’d With flame most pure, that to the sparkle’ of truth Was nearest, as partaking most, methinks, Of its reality. The guide belov’d Saw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake: "Heav’n, and all nature, hangs upon that point. The circle thereto most conjoin’d observe; And know, that by intenser love its course Is to this swiftness wing’d. "To whom I thus: "It were enough; nor should I further seek, Had I but witness’d order, in the world Appointed, such as in these wheels is seen. But in the sensible world such diff’rence is, That is each round shows more divinity, As each is wider from the centre. Hence, If in this wondrous and angelic temple, That hath for confine only light and love, My wish may have completion I must know, Wherefore such disagreement is between Th’ exemplar and its copy: for myself, Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause."
"It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil’d Do leave the knot untied: so hard ’t is grown For want of tenting." Thus she said: "But take," She added, "if thou wish thy cure, my words, And entertain them subtly. Every orb Corporeal, doth proportion its extent Unto the virtue through its parts diffus’d. The greater blessedness preserves the more. The greater is the body (if all parts Share equally) the more is to preserve. Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheels The universal frame answers to that, Which is supreme in knowledge and in love Thus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadth Of substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav’ns, Each to the’ intelligence that ruleth it, Greater to more, and smaller unto less, Suited in strict and wondrous harmony."
As when the sturdy north blows from his cheek A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air, Clear’d of the rack, that hung on it before, Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil’d, The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles; Such was my cheer, when Beatrice drove With clear reply the shadows back, and truth Was manifested, as a star in heaven. And when the words were ended, not unlike To iron in the furnace, every cirque Ebullient shot forth scintillating fires: And every sparkle shivering to new blaze, In number did outmillion the account Reduplicate upon the chequer’d board. Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir, "Hosanna," to the fixed point, that holds, And shall for ever hold them to their place, From everlasting, irremovable.
Musing awhile I stood: and she, who saw by inward meditations, thus began: "In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst, Are seraphim and cherubim. Thus swift Follow their hoops, in likeness to the point, Near as they can, approaching; and they can The more, the loftier their vision. Those, That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next, Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And all Are blessed, even as their sight descends Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is For every mind. Thus happiness hath root In seeing, not in loving, which of sight Is aftergrowth. And of the seeing such The meed, as unto each in due degree Grace and good-will their measure have assign’d. The other trine, that with still opening buds In this eternal springtide blossom fair, Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram, Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold Hosannas blending ever, from the three Transmitted. hierarchy of gods, for aye Rejoicing, dominations first, next then Virtues, and powers the third. The next to whom Are princedoms and archangels, with glad round To tread their festal ring; and last the band Angelical, disporting in their sphere. All, as they circle in their orders, look Aloft, and downward with such sway prevail, That all with mutual impulse tend to God. These once a mortal view beheld. Desire In Dionysius so intently wrought, That he, as I have done rang’d them; and nam’d Their orders, marshal’d in his thought. From him Dissentient, one refus’d his sacred read. But soon as in this heav’n his doubting eyes Were open’d, Gregory at his error smil’d Nor marvel, that a denizen of earth Should scan such secret truth; for he had learnt Both this and much beside of these our orbs, From an eye-witness to heav’n’s mysteries."

CANTO XXIX

No longer than what time Latona’s twins Cover’d of Libra and the fleecy star, Together both, girding the’ horizon hang, In even balance from the zenith pois’d, Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere, Part the nice level; e’en so brief a space Did Beatrice’s silence hold. A smile Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix’d gaze Bent on the point, at which my vision fail’d: When thus her words resuming she began: "I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand; For I have mark’d it, where all time and place Are present. Not for increase to himself Of good, which may not be increas’d, but forth To manifest his glory by its beams, Inhabiting his own eternity, Beyond time’s limit or what bound soe’er To circumscribe his being, as he will’d, Into new natures, like unto himself, Eternal Love unfolded. Nor before, As if in dull inaction torpid lay. For not in process of before or aft Upon these waters mov’d the Spirit of God. Simple and mix’d, both form and substance, forth To perfect being started, like three darts Shot from a bow three-corded. And as ray In crystal, glass, and amber, shines entire, E’en at the moment of its issuing; thus Did, from th’ eternal Sovran, beam entire His threefold operation, at one act Produc’d coeval. Yet in order each Created his due station knew: those highest, Who pure intelligence were made: mere power The lowest: in the midst, bound with strict league, Intelligence and power, unsever’d bond. Long tract of ages by the angels past, Ere the creating of another world, Describ’d on Jerome’s pages thou hast seen. But that what I disclose to thee is true, Those penmen, whom the Holy Spirit mov’d In many a passage of their sacred book Attest; as thou by diligent search shalt find And reason in some sort discerns the same, Who scarce would grant the heav’nly ministers Of their perfection void, so long a space. Thus when and where these spirits of love were made, Thou know’st, and how: and knowing hast allay’d Thy thirst, which from the triple question rose. Ere one had reckon’d twenty, e’en so soon Part of the angels fell: and in their fall Confusion to your elements ensued. The others kept their station: and this task, Whereon thou lookst, began with such delight, That they surcease not ever, day nor night, Their circling. Of that fatal lapse the cause Was the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen Pent with the world’s incumbrance. Those, whom here Thou seest, were lowly to confess themselves Of his free bounty, who had made them apt For ministries so high: therefore their views Were by enlight’ning grace and their own merit Exalted; so that in their will confirm’d They stand, nor feel to fall. For do not doubt, But to receive the grace, which heav’n vouchsafes, Is meritorious, even as the soul With prompt affection welcometh the guest. Now, without further help, if with good heed My words thy mind have treasur’d, thou henceforth This consistory round about mayst scan, And gaze thy fill. But since thou hast on earth Heard vain disputers, reasoners in the schools, Canvas the’ angelic nature, and dispute Its powers of apprehension, memory, choice; Therefore, ’t is well thou take from me the truth, Pure and without disguise, which they below, Equivocating, darken and perplex.
"Know thou, that, from the first, these substances, Rejoicing in the countenance of God, Have held unceasingly their view, intent Upon the glorious vision, from the which Naught absent is nor hid: where then no change Of newness with succession interrupts, Remembrance there needs none to gather up Divided thought and images remote
"So that men, thus at variance with the truth Dream, though their eyes be open; reckless some Of error; others well aware they err, To whom more guilt and shame are justly due. Each the known track of sage philosophy Deserts, and has a byway of his own: So much the restless eagerness to shine And love of singularity prevail. Yet this, offensive as it is, provokes Heav’n’s anger less, than when the book of God Is forc’d to yield to man’s authority, Or from its straightness warp’d: no reck’ning made What blood the sowing of it in the world Has cost; what favour for himself he wins, Who meekly clings to it. The aim of all Is how to shine: e’en they, whose office is To preach the Gospel, let the gospel sleep, And pass their own inventions off instead. One tells, how at Christ’s suffering the wan moon Bent back her steps, and shadow’d o’er the sun With intervenient disk, as she withdrew: Another, how the light shrouded itself Within its tabernacle, and left dark The Spaniard and the Indian, with the Jew. Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears, Bandied about more frequent, than the names Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets. The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return From pasture, fed with wind: and what avails For their excuse, they do not see their harm? Christ said not to his first conventicle, ’Go forth and preach impostures to the world,’ But gave them truth to build on; and the sound Was mighty on their lips; nor needed they, Beside the gospel, other spear or shield, To aid them in their warfare for the faith. The preacher now provides himself with store Of jests and gibes; and, so there be no lack Of laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl Distends, and he has won the meed he sought: Could but the vulgar catch a glimpse the while Of that dark bird which nestles in his hood, They scarce would wait to hear the blessing said. Which now the dotards hold in such esteem, That every counterfeit, who spreads abroad The hands of holy promise, finds a throng Of credulous fools beneath. Saint Anthony Fattens with this his swine, and others worse Than swine, who diet at his lazy board, Paying with unstamp’d metal for their fare.
"But (for we far have wander’d) let us seek The forward path again; so as the way Be shorten’d with the time. No mortal tongue Nor thought of man hath ever reach’d so far, That of these natures he might count the tribes. What Daniel of their thousands hath reveal’d With finite number infinite conceals. The fountain at whose source these drink their beams, With light supplies them in as many modes, As there are splendours, that it shines on: each According to the virtue it conceives, Differing in love and sweet affection. Look then how lofty and how huge in breadth The’ eternal might, which, broken and dispers’d Over such countless mirrors, yet remains Whole in itself and one, as at the first."

CANTO XXX

Noon’s fervid hour perchance six thousand miles From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone Almost to level on our earth declines; When from the midmost of this blue abyss By turns some star is to our vision lost. And straightway as the handmaid of the sun Puts forth her radiant brow, all, light by light, Fade, and the spangled firmament shuts in, E’en to the loveliest of the glittering throng. Thus vanish’d gradually from my sight The triumph, which plays ever round the point, That overcame me, seeming (for it did) Engirt by that it girdeth. Wherefore love, With loss of other object, forc’d me bend Mine eyes on Beatrice once again.
If all, that hitherto is told of her, Were in one praise concluded, ’t were too weak To furnish out this turn. Mine eyes did look On beauty, such, as I believe in sooth, Not merely to exceed our human, but, That save its Maker, none can to the full Enjoy it. At this point o’erpower’d I fail, Unequal to my theme, as never bard Of buskin or of sock hath fail’d before. For, as the sun doth to the feeblest sight, E’en so remembrance of that witching smile Hath dispossess my spirit of itself. Not from that day, when on this earth I first Beheld her charms, up to that view of them, Have I with song applausive ever ceas’d To follow, but not follow them no more; My course here bounded, as each artist’s is, When it doth touch the limit of his skill.
She (such as I bequeath her to the bruit Of louder trump than mine, which hasteneth on, Urging its arduous matter to the close), Her words resum’d, in gesture and in voice Resembling one accustom’d to command: "Forth from the last corporeal are we come Into the heav’n, that is unbodied light, Light intellectual replete with love, Love of true happiness replete with joy, Joy, that transcends all sweetness of delight. Here shalt thou look on either mighty host Of Paradise; and one in that array, Which in the final judgment thou shalt see."
As when the lightning, in a sudden spleen Unfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes The visive spirits dazzled and bedimm’d; So, round about me, fulminating streams Of living radiance play’d, and left me swath’d And veil’d in dense impenetrable blaze. Such weal is in the love, that stills this heav’n; For its own flame the torch this fitting ever!
No sooner to my list’ning ear had come The brief assurance, than I understood New virtue into me infus’d, and sight Kindled afresh, with vigour to sustain Excess of light, however pure. I look’d; And in the likeness of a river saw Light flowing, from whose amber-seeming waves Flash’d up effulgence, as they glided on ’Twixt banks, on either side, painted with spring, Incredible how fair; and, from the tide, There ever and anon, outstarting, flew Sparkles instinct with life; and in the flow’rs Did set them, like to rubies chas’d in gold; Then, as if drunk with odors, plung’d again Into the wondrous flood; from which, as one Re’enter’d, still another rose. "The thirst Of knowledge high, whereby thou art inflam’d, To search the meaning of what here thou seest, The more it warms thee, pleases me the more. But first behooves thee of this water drink, Or ere that longing be allay’d." So spake The day-star of mine eyes; then thus subjoin’d: "This stream, and these, forth issuing from its gulf, And diving back, a living topaz each, With all this laughter on its bloomy shores, Are but a preface, shadowy of the truth They emblem: not that, in themselves, the things Are crude; but on thy part is the defect, For that thy views not yet aspire so high." Never did babe, that had outslept his wont, Rush, with such eager straining, to the milk, As I toward the water, bending me, To make the better mirrors of mine eyes In the refining wave; and, as the eaves Of mine eyelids did drink of it, forthwith Seem’d it unto me turn’d from length to round, Then as a troop of maskers, when they put Their vizors off, look other than before, The counterfeited semblance thrown aside; So into greater jubilee were chang’d Those flowers and sparkles, and distinct I saw Before me either court of heav’n displac’d.
O prime enlightener! thou who crav’st me strength On the high triumph of thy realm to gaze! Grant virtue now to utter what I kenn’d,
There is in heav’n a light, whose goodly shine Makes the Creator visible to all Created, that in seeing him alone Have peace; and in a circle spreads so far, That the circumference were too loose a zone To girdle in the sun. All is one beam, Reflected from the summit of the first, That moves, which being hence and vigour takes, And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes Its image mirror’d in the crystal flood, As if ’t admire its brave appareling Of verdure and of flowers: so, round about, Eyeing the light, on more than million thrones, Stood, eminent, whatever from our earth Has to the skies return’d. How wide the leaves Extended to their utmost of this rose, Whose lowest step embosoms such a space Of ample radiance! Yet, nor amplitude Nor height impeded, but my view with ease Took in the full dimensions of that joy. Near or remote, what there avails, where God Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends Her sway? Into the yellow of the rose Perennial, which in bright expansiveness, Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent Of praises to the never-wint’ring sun, As one, who fain would speak yet holds his peace, Beatrice led me; and, "Behold," she said, "This fair assemblage! stoles of snowy white How numberless! The city, where we dwell, Behold how vast! and these our seats so throng’d Few now are wanting here! In that proud stall, On which, the crown, already o’er its state Suspended, holds thine eyes—or ere thyself Mayst at the wedding sup,—shall rest the soul Of the great Harry, he who, by the world Augustas hail’d, to Italy must come, Before her day be ripe. But ye are sick, And in your tetchy wantonness as blind, As is the bantling, that of hunger dies, And drives away the nurse. Nor may it be, That he, who in the sacred forum sways, Openly or in secret, shall with him Accordant walk: Whom God will not endure I’ th’ holy office long; but thrust him down To Simon Magus, where Magna’s priest Will sink beneath him: such will be his meed."

CANTO XXXI

In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which in his own blood Christ espous’d. Meanwhile That other host, that soar aloft to gaze And celebrate his glory, whom they love, Hover’d around; and, like a troop of bees, Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, Now, clustering, where their fragrant labour glows, Flew downward to the mighty flow’r, or rose From the redundant petals, streaming back Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy. Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold; The rest was whiter than the driven snow. And as they flitted down into the flower, From range to range, fanning their plumy loins, Whisper’d the peace and ardour, which they won From that soft winnowing. Shadow none, the vast Interposition of such numerous flight Cast, from above, upon the flower, or view Obstructed aught. For, through the universe, Wherever merited, celestial light Glides freely, and no obstacle prevents.
All there, who reign in safety and in bliss, Ages long past or new, on one sole mark Their love and vision fix’d. O trinal beam Of individual star, that charmst them thus, Vouchsafe one glance to gild our storm below!
If the grim brood, from Arctic shores that roam’d, (Where helice, forever, as she wheels, Sparkles a mother’s fondness on her son) Stood in mute wonder ’mid the works of Rome, When to their view the Lateran arose In greatness more than earthly; I, who then From human to divine had past, from time Unto eternity, and out of Florence To justice and to truth, how might I choose But marvel too? ’Twixt gladness and amaze, In sooth no will had I to utter aught, Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests Within the temple of his vow, looks round In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell Of all its goodly state: e’en so mine eyes Cours’d up and down along the living light, Now low, and now aloft, and now around, Visiting every step. Looks I beheld, Where charity in soft persuasion sat, Smiles from within and radiance from above, And in each gesture grace and honour high.
So rov’d my ken, and its general form All Paradise survey’d: when round I turn’d With purpose of my lady to inquire Once more of things, that held my thought suspense, But answer found from other than I ween’d; For, Beatrice, when I thought to see, I saw instead a senior, at my side,
Rob’d, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign Glow’d in his eye, and o’er his cheek diffus’d, With gestures such as spake a father’s love. And, "Whither is she vanish’d?" straight I ask’d.
"By Beatrice summon’d," he replied, "I come to aid thy wish. Looking aloft To the third circle from the highest, there Behold her on the throne, wherein her merit Hath plac’d her." Answering not, mine eyes I rais’d, And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams. Not from the centre of the sea so far Unto the region of the highest thunder, As was my ken from hers; and yet the form Came through that medium down, unmix’d and pure,
"O Lady! thou in whom my hopes have rest! Who, for my safety, hast not scorn’d, in hell To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark’d! For all mine eyes have seen, I, to thy power And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave, Thou hast to freedom brought me; and no means, For my deliverance apt, hast left untried. Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep. That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, Is loosen’d from this body, it may find Favour with thee." So I my suit preferr’d: And she, so distant, as appear’d, look’d down, And smil’d; then tow’rds th’ eternal fountain turn’d.
And thus the senior, holy and rever’d: "That thou at length mayst happily conclude Thy voyage (to which end I was dispatch’d, By supplication mov’d and holy love) Let thy upsoaring vision range, at large, This garden through: for so, by ray divine Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount; And from heav’n’s queen, whom fervent I adore, All gracious aid befriend us; for that I Am her own faithful Bernard." Like a wight, Who haply from Croatia wends to see Our Veronica, and the while ’t is shown, Hangs over it with never-sated gaze, And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith Unto himself in thought: "And didst thou look E’en thus, O Jesus, my true Lord and God? And was this semblance thine?" So gaz’d I then Adoring; for the charity of him, Who musing, in the world that peace enjoy’d, Stood lively before me. "Child of grace!" Thus he began: "thou shalt not knowledge gain Of this glad being, if thine eyes are held Still in this depth below. But search around The circles, to the furthest, till thou spy Seated in state, the queen, that of this realm Is sovran." Straight mine eyes I rais’d; and bright, As, at the birth of morn, the eastern clime Above th’ horizon, where the sun declines; To mine eyes, that upward, as from vale To mountain sped, at th’ extreme bound, a part Excell’d in lustre all the front oppos’d. And as the glow burns ruddiest o’er the wave, That waits the sloping beam, which Phaeton Ill knew to guide, and on each part the light Diminish’d fades, intensest in the midst; So burn’d the peaceful oriflamb, and slack’d On every side the living flame decay’d. And in that midst their sportive pennons wav’d Thousands of angels; in resplendence each Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee And carol, smil’d the Lovely One of heav’n, That joy was in the eyes of all the blest.
Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, As is the colouring in fancy’s loom, ’T were all too poor to utter the least part Of that enchantment. When he saw mine eyes Intent on her, that charm’d him, Bernard gaz’d With so exceeding fondness, as infus’d Ardour into my breast, unfelt before.

CANTO XXXII

Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high, Assum’d the teacher’s part, and mild began: "The wound, that Mary clos’d, she open’d first, Who sits so beautiful at Mary’s feet. The third in order, underneath her, lo! Rachel with Beatrice. Sarah next, Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid, Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songs Of sore repentance in his sorrowful mood. All, as I name them, down from deaf to leaf, Are in gradation throned on the rose. And from the seventh step, successively, Adown the breathing tresses of the flow’r Still doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed. For these are a partition wall, whereby The sacred stairs are sever’d, as the faith In Christ divides them. On this part, where blooms Each leaf in full maturity, are set Such as in Christ, or ere he came, believ’d. On th’ other, where an intersected space Yet shows the semicircle void, abide All they, who look’d to Christ already come. And as our Lady on her glorious stool, And they who on their stools beneath her sit, This way distinction make: e’en so on his, The mighty Baptist that way marks the line (He who endur’d the desert and the pains Of martyrdom, and for two years of hell, Yet still continued holy), and beneath, Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest, Thus far from round to round. So heav’n’s decree Forecasts, this garden equally to fill. With faith in either view, past or to come, Learn too, that downward from the step, which cleaves Midway the twain compartments, none there are Who place obtain for merit of their own, But have through others’ merit been advanc’d, On set conditions: spirits all releas’d, Ere for themselves they had the power to choose. And, if thou mark and listen to them well, Their childish looks and voice declare as much.
"Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt; And gladly will I loose the knot, wherein Thy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realm Excluded, chalice no entrance here may find, No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can. A law immutable hath establish’d all; Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit, Exactly, as the finger to the ring. It is not therefore without cause, that these, O’erspeedy comers to immortal life, Are different in their shares of excellence. Our Sovran Lord—that settleth this estate In love and in delight so absolute, That wish can dare no further—every soul, Created in his joyous sight to dwell, With grace at pleasure variously endows. And for a proof th’ effect may well suffice. And ’t is moreover most expressly mark’d In holy scripture, where the twins are said To, have struggled in the womb. Therefore, as grace Inweaves the coronet, so every brow Weareth its proper hue of orient light. And merely in respect to his prime gift, Not in reward of meritorious deed, Hath each his several degree assign’d. In early times with their own innocence More was not wanting, than the parents’ faith, To save them: those first ages past, behoov’d That circumcision in the males should imp The flight of innocent wings: but since the day Of grace hath come, without baptismal rites In Christ accomplish’d, innocence herself Must linger yet below. Now raise thy view Unto the visage most resembling Christ: For, in her splendour only, shalt thou win The pow’r to look on him." Forthwith I saw Such floods of gladness on her visage shower’d, From holy spirits, winging that profound; That, whatsoever I had yet beheld, Had not so much suspended me with wonder, Or shown me such similitude of God. And he, who had to her descended, once, On earth, now hail’d in heav’n; and on pois’d wing. "Ave, Maria, Gratia Plena," sang: To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court, From all parts answ’ring, rang: that holier joy Brooded the deep serene. "Father rever’d: Who deign’st, for me, to quit the pleasant place, Wherein thou sittest, by eternal lot! Say, who that angel is, that with such glee Beholds our queen, and so enamour’d glows Of her high beauty, that all fire he seems." So I again resorted to the lore Of my wise teacher, he, whom Mary’s charms Embellish’d, as the sun the morning star; Who thus in answer spake: "In him are summ’d, Whatever of buxomness and free delight May be in Spirit, or in angel, met: And so beseems: for that he bare the palm Down unto Mary, when the Son of God Vouchsaf’d to clothe him in terrestrial weeds. Now let thine eyes wait heedful on my words, And note thou of this just and pious realm The chiefest nobles. Those, highest in bliss, The twain, on each hand next our empress thron’d, Are as it were two roots unto this rose. He to the left, the parent, whose rash taste Proves bitter to his seed; and, on the right, That ancient father of the holy church, Into whose keeping Christ did give the keys Of this sweet flow’r: near whom behold the seer, That, ere he died, saw all the grievous times Of the fair bride, who with the lance and nails Was won. And, near unto the other, rests The leader, under whom on manna fed Th’ ungrateful nation, fickle and perverse. On th’ other part, facing to Peter, lo! Where Anna sits, so well content to look On her lov’d daughter, that with moveless eye She chants the loud hosanna: while, oppos’d To the first father of your mortal kind, Is Lucia, at whose hest thy lady sped, When on the edge of ruin clos’d thine eye.
"But (for the vision hasteneth so an end) Here break we off, as the good workman doth, That shapes the cloak according to the cloth: And to the primal love our ken shall rise; That thou mayst penetrate the brightness, far As sight can bear thee. Yet, alas! in sooth Beating thy pennons, thinking to advance, Thou backward fall’st. Grace then must first be gain’d; Her grace, whose might can help thee. Thou in prayer Seek her: and, with affection, whilst I sue, Attend, and yield me all thy heart." He said, And thus the saintly orison began.

CANTO XXXIII

"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son, Created beings all in lowliness Surpassing, as in height, above them all, Term by th’ eternal counsel pre-ordain’d, Ennobler of thy nature, so advanc’d In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn, Himself, in his own work enclos’d to dwell! For in thy womb rekindling shone the love Reveal’d, whose genial influence makes now This flower to germin in eternal peace! Here thou to us, of charity and love, Art, as the noon-day torch: and art, beneath, To mortal men, of hope a living spring. So mighty art thou, lady! and so great, That he who grace desireth, and comes not To thee for aidance, fain would have desire Fly without wings. Nor only him who asks, Thy bounty succours, but doth freely oft Forerun the asking. Whatsoe’er may be Of excellence in creature, pity mild, Relenting mercy, large munificence, Are all combin’d in thee. Here kneeleth one, Who of all spirits hath review’d the state, From the world’s lowest gap unto this height. Suppliant to thee he kneels, imploring grace For virtue, yet more high to lift his ken Toward the bliss supreme. And I, who ne’er Coveted sight, more fondly, for myself, Than now for him, my prayers to thee prefer, (And pray they be not scant) that thou wouldst drive Each cloud of his mortality away; That on the sovran pleasure he may gaze. This also I entreat of thee, O queen! Who canst do what thou wilt! that in him thou Wouldst after all he hath beheld, preserve Affection sound, and human passions quell. Lo! Where, with Beatrice, many a saint Stretch their clasp’d hands, in furtherance of my suit!"
The eyes, that heav’n with love and awe regards, Fix’d on the suitor, witness’d, how benign She looks on pious pray’rs: then fasten’d they On th’ everlasting light, wherein no eye Of creature, as may well be thought, so far Can travel inward. I, meanwhile, who drew Near to the limit, where all wishes end, The ardour of my wish (for so behooved), Ended within me. Beck’ning smil’d the sage, That I should look aloft: but, ere he bade, Already of myself aloft I look’d; For visual strength, refining more and more, Bare me into the ray authentical Of sovran light. Thenceforward, what I saw, Was not for words to speak, nor memory’s self To stand against such outrage on her skill. As one, who from a dream awaken’d, straight, All he hath seen forgets; yet still retains Impression of the feeling in his dream; E’en such am I: for all the vision dies, As ’t were, away; and yet the sense of sweet, That sprang from it, still trickles in my heart. Thus in the sun-thaw is the snow unseal’d; Thus in the winds on flitting leaves was lost The Sybil’s sentence. O eternal beam! (Whose height what reach of mortal thought may soar?) Yield me again some little particle Of what thou then appearedst, give my tongue Power, but to leave one sparkle of thy glory, Unto the race to come, that shall not lose Thy triumph wholly, if thou waken aught Of memory in me, and endure to hear The record sound in this unequal strain.
Such keenness from the living ray I met, That, if mine eyes had turn’d away, methinks, I had been lost; but, so embolden’d, on I pass’d, as I remember, till my view Hover’d the brink of dread infinitude.
O grace! unenvying of thy boon! that gav’st Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken On th’ everlasting splendour, that I look’d, While sight was unconsum’d, and, in that depth, Saw in one volume clasp’d of love, whatever The universe unfolds; all properties Of substance and of accident, beheld, Compounded, yet one individual light The whole. And of such bond methinks I saw The universal form: for that whenever I do but speak of it, my soul dilates Beyond her proper self; and, till I speak, One moment seems a longer lethargy, Than five-and-twenty ages had appear’d To that emprize, that first made Neptune wonder At Argo’s shadow darkening on his flood.
With fixed heed, suspense and motionless, Wond’ring I gaz’d; and admiration still Was kindled, as I gaz’d. It may not be, That one, who looks upon that light, can turn To other object, willingly, his view. For all the good, that will may covet, there Is summ’d; and all, elsewhere defective found, Complete. My tongue shall utter now, no more E’en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe’s That yet is moisten’d at his mother’s breast. Not that the semblance of the living light Was chang’d (that ever as at first remain’d) But that my vision quickening, in that sole Appearance, still new miracles descry’d, And toil’d me with the change. In that abyss Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem’d methought, Three orbs of triple hue clipt in one bound: And, from another, one reflected seem’d, As rainbow is from rainbow: and the third Seem’d fire, breath’d equally from both. Oh speech How feeble and how faint art thou, to give Conception birth! Yet this to what I saw Is less than little. Oh eternal light! Sole in thyself that dwellst; and of thyself Sole understood, past, present, or to come! Thou smiledst; on that circling, which in thee Seem’d as reflected splendour, while I mus’d; For I therein, methought, in its own hue Beheld our image painted: steadfastly I therefore por’d upon the view. As one Who vers’d in geometric lore, would fain Measure the circle; and, though pondering long And deeply, that beginning, which he needs, Finds not; e’en such was I, intent to scan The novel wonder, and trace out the form, How to the circle fitted, and therein How plac’d: but the flight was not for my wing; Had not a flash darted athwart my mind, And in the spleen unfolded what it sought.
Here vigour fail’d the tow’ring fantasy: But yet the will roll’d onward, like a wheel In even motion, by the Love impell’d, That moves the sun in heav’n and all the stars.

NOTES TO PARADISE

CANTO 1

Verse 12. Benign Apollo.] Chaucer has imitated this invention very closely at the beginning of the Third Booke of Fame.

If, divine vertue, thou Wilt helpe me to shewe now That in my head ymarked is,
* * * * * Thou shalt see me go as blive Unto the next laurer I see, And kisse it for it is thy tree Now entre thou my breast anone.

v. 15. Thus for.] He appears to mean nothing more than that this part of his poem will require a greater exertion of his powers than the former.

v. 19. Marsyas.] Ovid, Met. 1. vi. fab. 7. Compare Boccaccio, II Filocopo, 1. 5. p. 25. v. ii. Ediz. Fir. 1723. "Egli nel mio petto entri," &c. - "May he enter my bosom, and let my voice sound like his own, when he made that daring mortal deserve to come forth unsheathed from his limbs. " v. 29. Caesar, or bard.] So Petrarch, Son. Par. Prima.

Arbor vittoriosa e trionfale, Onor d’imperadori e di poeti.

And Spenser, F. Q. b. i. c. 1. st. 9, The laurel, meed of mighty conquerours And poets sage.

v. 37. Through that.] "Where the four circles, the horizon, the zodiac, the equator, and the equinoctial colure, join; the last threeintersecting each other so as to form three crosses, as may be seen in the armillary sphere."

v. 39. In happiest constellation.] Aries. Some understand the planetVenus by the "miglior stella "

v. 44. To the left.] Being in the opposite hemisphere to ours, Beatrice that she may behold the rising sun, turns herself to the left.

v. 47. As from the first a second beam.] "Like a reflected sunbeam," which he compares to a pilgrim hastening homewards.

Ne simil tanto mal raggio secondo Dal primo usci. Filicaja, canz. 15. st. 4.

v. 58. As iron that comes boiling from the fire.] So Milton, P. L. b. iii. 594. —As glowing iron with fire.

v. 69. Upon the day appear’d.

—If the heaven had ywonne, All new of God another sunne. Chaucer, First Booke of Fame

E par ch’ agginuga un altro sole al cielo. Ariosto, O F. c. x. st. 109.

Ed ecco un lustro lampeggiar d’ intorno Che sole a sole aggiunse e giorno a giorno. Manno, Adone. c. xi. st. 27.

Quando a paro col sol ma piu lucente L’angelo gli appari sull; oriente Tasso, G. L. c. i.

-Seems another morn Ris’n on mid-noon. Milton, P. L. b. v. 311.

Compare Euripides, Ion. 1550. [GREEK HERE] 66. as Glaucus. ] Ovid, Met. 1. Xiii. Fab. 9

v. 71. If.] "Thou O divine Spirit, knowest whether 1 had not risen above my human nature, and were not merely such as thou hadst then, formed me."

v. 125. Through sluggishness.] Perch’ a risponder la materia e sorda.

So Filicaja, canz. vi. st 9. Perche a risponder la discordia e sorda

"The workman hath in his heart a purpose, he carrieth in mind the whole form which his work should have; there wanteth not him skill and desire to bring his labour to the best effect, only the matter, which he hath to work on is unframeable." Hooker’s Eccl. Polity, b. 5. 9.

CANTO II

v. 1. In small bark.]

Con la barchetta mia cantando in rima Pulci, Morg. Magg. c. xxviii.

Io me n’andro con la barchetta mia, Quanto l’acqua comporta un picciol legno Ibid.

v. 30. This first star.] the moon

v. 46. E’en as the truth.] Like a truth that does not need demonstration, but is self-evident."

v. 52. Cain.] Compare Hell, Canto XX. 123. And Note

v. 65. Number1ess lights.] The fixed stars, which differ both in bulk and splendor.

v. 71. Save one.] "Except that principle of rarity and denseness which thou hast assigned." By "formal principles, "principj formali, are meant constituent or essential causes." Milton, in imitation of this passage, introduces the angel arguing with Adam respecting the causes of the spots on the moon.

But, as a late French translator of the Paradise well remarks, his reasoning is physical; that of Dante partly metaphysical and partly theologic.

v. 111. Within the heaven.] According to our Poet’s system, there are ten heavens; the seven planets, the eighth spheres containing the fixed stars, the primum mobile, and the empyrean.

v. 143. The virtue mingled.] Virg. Aen. 1. vi 724. Principio coelum, &c.

CANTO III

v. 16. Delusion.] "An error the contrary to that of Narcissus, because he mistook a shadow for a substance, I a substance for a shadow."

v. 50. Piccarda.] The sister of Forese whom we have seen in the Purgatory, Canto XXIII.

v. 90. The Lady.] St. Clare, the foundress of the order called after her She was born of opulent and noble parents at Assisi, in 1193, and died in 1253. See Biogr. Univ. t. 1. p. 598. 8vo. Paris, 1813.

v. 121. Constance.] Daughter of Ruggieri, king of Sicily, who, being taken by force out of a monastery where she had professed, was married to the Emperor Henry Vl. and by him was mother to Frederick 11. She was fifty years old or more at the time, and "because it was not credited that she could have a child at that age, she was delivered in a pavilion and it was given out, that any lady, who pleased, was at liberty to see her. Many came, and saw her, and the suspicion ceased." Ricordano Malaspina in Muratori, Rer. It. Script. t. viii. p. 939; and G. Villani, in the same words, Hist. I v. c. 16

The French translator above mentored speaks of her having poisoned her husband. The death of Henry Vl. is recorded in the Chronicon Siciliae, by an anonymous writer, (Muratori, t. x.) but not a word of his having been poisoned by Constance, and Ricordano Malaspina even mentions her decease as happening before that of her husband, Henry V., for so this author, with some others, terms him. v. 122. The second.] Henry Vl. son of Frederick I was the second emperor of the house of Saab; and his son Frederick II "the third and last."

CANTO IV

v. 6. Between two deer]

Tigris ut auditis, diversa valle duorum Extimulata fame, mugitibus armentorum Neseit utro potius ruat, et ruere ardet utroque. Ovid, Metam. 1. v. 166

v. 13. Daniel.] See Daniel, c. ii.

v. 24. Plato.] [GREEK HERE] Plato Timaeus v. ix. p. 326. Edit. Bip. "The Creator, when he had framed the universe, distributed to the stars an equal number of souls, appointing to each soul its several star."

v. 27. Of that.] Plato’s opinion.

v. 34. The first circle.] The empyrean.

v. 48. Him who made Tobias whole.]

Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign’d To travel with Tobias, and secur’d His marriage with the sev’n times wedded maid, Milton, P. L. b. v. 223.

v. 67. That to the eye of man.] "That the ways of divine justice are often inscrutable to man, ought rather to be a motive to faith than an inducement to heresy." Such appears to me the most satisfactory explanation of the passage.

v. 82. Laurence.] Who suffered martyrdom in the third century.

v. 82. Scaevola.] See Liv. Hist. D. 1. 1. ii. 12.

v. 100. Alcmaeon.] Ovid, Met. 1. ix. f. 10.

—Ultusque parente parentem Natus, erit facto pius et sceleratus eodem.

v. 107. Of will.] "What Piccarda asserts of Constance, that she retained her affection to the monastic life, is said absolutely and without relation to circumstances; and that which I affirm is spoken of the will conditionally and respectively: so that our apparent difference is without any disagreement." v. 119. That truth.] The light of divine truth.

CANTO V

v. 43. Two things.] The one, the substance of the vow; the other, the compact, or form of it.

v. 48. It was enjoin’d the Israelites.] See Lev. e. xii, and xxvii.

v. 56. Either key.] Purgatory, Canto IX. 108.

v. 86. That region.] As some explain it, the east, according to others the equinoctial line.

v. 124. This sphere.] The planet Mercury, which, being nearest to the sun, is oftenest hidden by that luminary

CANTO VI

v. 1. After that Constantine the eagle turn’d.] Constantine, in transferring the seat of empire from Rome to Byzantium, carried the eagle, the Imperial ensign, from the west to the east. Aeneas, on the contrary had moved along with the sun’s course, when he passed from Troy to Italy.

v. 5. A hundred years twice told and more.] The Emperor Constantine entered Byzantium in 324, and Justinian began his reign in 527.

v. 6. At Europe’s extreme point.] Constantinople being situated at the extreme of Europe, and on the borders of Asia, near those mountains in the neighbourhood of Troy, from whence the first founders of Rome had emigrated.

v. 13. To clear th’ incumber’d laws.] The code of laws was abridged and reformed by Justinian.

v. 15. Christ’s nature merely human.] Justinian is said to have been a follower of the heretical Opinions held by Eutyches," who taught that in Christ there was but one nature, viz. that of the incarnate word." Maclaine’s Mosheim, t. ii. Cent. v. p. ii. c. v. 13.

v. 16. Agapete.] Agapetus, Bishop of Rome, whose Scheda Regia, addressed to the Emperor Justinian, procured him a place among the wisest and most judicious writers of this century." Ibid. Cent. vi. p. ii c. ii. 8.

v. 33. Who pretend its power.] The Ghibellines.

v. 33. And who oppose ] The Guelphs.

v. 34. Pallas died.] See Virgil, Aen. 1. X.

v. 39. The rival three.] The Horatii and Curiatii.

v. 41. Down.] "From the rape of the Sabine women to the violation of Lucretia." v. 47. Quintius.] Quintius Cincinnatus.

E Cincinnato dall’ inculta chioma. Petrarca.

v. 50. Arab hordes.] The Arabians seem to be put for the barbarians in general.

v. 54. That hill.] The city of Fesulae, which was sacked by the Romans after the defeat of Cataline.

v. 56. Near the hour.] Near the time of our Saviour’s birth.

v. 59. What then it wrought.] In the following fifteen lines the Poet has comprised the exploits of Julius Caesar.

v. 75. In its next bearer’s gripe.] With Augustus Caesar.

v. 89. The third Caesar.] "Tiberius the third of the Caesars, had it in his power to surpass the glory of all who either preceded or came after him, by destroying the city of .Jerusalem, as Titus afterwards did, and thus revenging the cause of God himself on the Jews."

v. 95. Vengeance for vengeance ] This will be afterwards explained by the Poet himself. v. 98. Charlemagne.] Dante could not be ignorant that the reign of Justinian was long prior to that of Charlemagne; but the spirit of the former emperor is represented, both in this instance and in what follows, as conscious of the events that had taken place after his own time.

v. 104. The yellow lilies.] The French ensign.

v. 110. Charles.] The commentators explain this to mean Charles II, king of Naples and Sicily. Is it not more likely to allude to Charles of Valois, son of Philip III of France, who was sent for, about this time, into Italy by Pope Boniface, with the promise of being made emperor? See G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 42.

v. 131. Romeo’s light.] The story of Romeo is involved in some uncertainty. The French writers assert the continuance of his ministerial office even after the decease of his soverign Raymond Berenger, count of Provence: and they rest this assertion chiefly on the fact of a certain Romieu de Villeneuve, who was the contemporary of that prince, having left large possessions behind him, as appears by his will, preserved in the archives of the bishopric of Venice. There might however have been more than one person of the name of Romieu, or Romeo which answers to that of Palmer in our language. Nor is it probable that the Italians, who lived so near the time, were misinformed in an occurrence of such notoriety. According to them, after he had long been a faithful steward to Raymond, when an account was required from him of the revenues whichhe had carefully husbanded, and his master as lavishly disbursed, "He demanded the little mule, the staff, and the scrip, with which he had first entered into the count’s service, a stranger pilgrim from the shrine of St. James in Galicia, and parted as he came; nor was it ever known whence he was or wither he went." G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 92.

v. 135. Four daughters.] Of the four daughters of Raymond Berenger, Margaret, the eldest, was married to Louis IX of France; Eleanor; the next, to Henry III, of England; Sancha, the third, to Richard, Henry’s brother, and King of the Romans; and the youngest, Beatrice, to Charles I, King of Naples and Sicily, and brother to Louis.

v. 136. Raymond Berenger.] This prince, the last of the house of Barcelona, who was count of Provence, died in 1245. He is in the list of Provencal poets. See Millot, Hist, Litt des Troubadours, t. ii. P. 112.

CANTO VII

v. 3. Malahoth.] A Hebrew word, signifying "kingdoms."

v. 4. That substance bright.] Justinian.

v. 17. As might have made one blest amid the flames.] So Giusto de’ Conti, Bella Mano. "Qual salamandra."

Che puommi nelle fiammi far beato.

v. 23. That man who was unborn.] Adam.

v. 61. What distils.] "That which proceeds immediately from God, and without intervention of secondary causes, in immortal."

v. 140. Our resurrection certain.] "Venturi appears to mistake the Poet’s reasoning, when he observes: "Wretched for us, if we had not arguments more convincing, and of a higher kind, to assure us of the truth of our resurrection." It is here intended, I think, that the whole of God’s dispensations to man should be considered as a proof of our resurrection. The conclusion is that as before sin man was immortal, so being restored to the favor of heaven by the expiation made for sin, he necessarily recovers his claim to immortality.

There is much in this poem to justify the encomium which the learned Salvini has passed on it, when, in an epistle to Redi, imitating what Horace had said of Homer, that the duties of life might be better learnt from the Grecian bard than from the teachers of the porch or the academy, he says—

And dost thou ask, what themes my mind engage? The lonely hours I give to Dante’s page; And meet more sacred learning in his lines Than I had gain’d from all the school divines.

Se volete saper la vita mia, Studiando io sto lungi da tutti gli nomini Ed ho irnparato piu teologia In questi giorni, che ho riletto Dante, Che nelle scuole fattto io non avria.

CANTO VIII

v. 4. Epicycle,] "In sul dosso di questo cerchio," &c. Convito di Dante, Opere, t. i. p. 48, ed. Ven. 1793. "Upon the back of this circle, in the heaven of Venus, whereof we are now treating, is a little sphere, which has in that heaven a revolution of its own: whose circle the astronomers term epicycle."

v. 11. To sit in Dido’s bosom.] Virgil. Aen. 1. i. 718,

v. 40. ’O ye whose intellectual ministry.] Voi ch’ intendendo il terzo ciel movete. The first line in our Poet" first canzone. See his Convito, Ibid. p. 40.

v. 53. had the time been more.] The spirit now speaking is Charles Martel crowned king of Hungary, and son of Charles 11 king of Naples and Sicily, to which dominions dying in his father’s lifetime, he did not succeed.

v. 57. Thou lov’dst me well.] Charles Martel might have been known to our poet at Florence whither he came to meet his father in 1295, the year of his death. The retinue and the habiliments of the young monarch are minutely described by G. Villani, who adds, that "he remained more than twenty days in Florence, waiting for his father King Charles and his brothers during which time great honour was done him by the, Florentines and he showed no less love towards them, and he was much in favour with all." 1. viii. c. 13. His brother Robert, king of Naples, was the friend of Petrarch.

v. 60. The left bank.] Provence.

v. 62. That horn Of fair Ausonia.] The kingdom of Naples.

v. 68. The land.] Hungary.

v. 73. The beautiful Trinaeria.] Sicily, so called from its three promontories, of which Pachynus and Pelorus, here mentioned, are two.

v. 14 ’Typhaeus.] The giant whom Jupiter is fabled to have overwhelmed under the mountain Aetna from whence he vomits forth smoke and flame.

v. 77. Sprang through me from Charles and Rodolph.] "Sicily would be still ruled by a race of monarchs, descended through me from Charles I and Rodolph I the former my grandfather king of Naples and Sicily; the latter emperor of Germany, my father-in-law; "both celebrated in the Purgatory Canto, Vll.

v. 78. Had not ill lording.] "If the ill conduct of our governors in Sicily had not excited the resentment and hatred of the people and stimulated them to that dreadful massacre at the Sicilian vespers;" in consequence of which the kingdom fell into the hands of Peter III of Arragon, in 1282

v. 81. My brother’s foresight.] He seems to tax his brother Robert with employing necessitous and greedy Catalonians to administer the affairs of his kingdom.

v. 99. How bitter can spring up.] "How a covetous son can spring from a liberal father." Yet that father has himself been accused of avarice in the Purgatory Canto XX. v. 78; though his general character was that of a bounteous prince.

v. 125. Consult your teacher.] Aristole. [GREEK HERE] De Rep. 1. iii. c. 4. "Since a state is made up of members differing from one another, (for even as an animal, in the first instance, consists of soul and body, and the soul, of reason and desire; and a family, of man and woman, and property of master and slave; in like manner a state consists both of all these and besides these of other dissimilar kinds,) it necessarily follows that the excellence of all the members of the state cannot be one and the same."

v. 136. Esau.] Genesis c. xxv. 22.

v. 137. Quirinus.] Romulus, born of so obscure a father, that his parentage was attributed to Mars.

CANTO IX

v. 2. O fair Clemenza.] Daughter of Charles Martel, and second wife of Louis X. of France.

v. 2. The treachery.] He alludes to the occupation of the kingdom of Sicily by Robert, in exclusion of his brother s son Carobert, or Charles. Robert, the rightful heir. See G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 112.

v. 7. That saintly light.] Charles Martel.

v. 25. In that part.] Between Rialto and the Venetian territory, and the sources of the rivers Brenta and Piava is situated a castle called Romano, the birth-place of the famous tyrant Ezzolino or Azzolino, the brother of Cunizza, who is now speaking. The tyrant we have seen in "the river of blood." Hell, Canto XII. v. 110.

v. 32. Cunizza.] The adventures of Cunizza, overcome by the influence of her star, are related by the chronicler Rolandino of Padua, 1. i. c. 3, in Muratori Rer. It. Script. t. viii. p. 173.

She eloped from her first husband, Richard of St. Boniface, in the company of Sordello, (see Purgatory, Canto VI. and VII. ) with whom she is supposed to have cohabited before her marriage: then lived with a soldier of Trevigi, whose wife was living at the same time in the same city, and on his being murdered by her brother the tyrant, was by her brother married to a nobleman of Braganzo, lastly when he also had fallen by the same hand she, after her brother’s death, was again wedded in Verona.

v. 37. This.] Folco of Genoa, a celebrated Provencal poet, commonly termed Folques of Marseilles, of which place he was perhaps bishop. Many errors of Nostradamus, regarding him, which have been followed by Crescimbeni, Quadrio, and Millot, are detected by the diligence of Tiraboschi. Mr. Matthias’s ed. v. 1. P. 18. All that appears certain, is what we are told in this Canto, that he was of Genoa, and by Petrarch in the Triumph of Love, c. iv. that he was better known by the appellation he derived from Marseilles, and at last resumed the religious habit. One of his verses is cited by Dante, De Vulg. Eloq. 1. ii. c. 6.

v. 40. Five times.] The five hundred years are elapsed: and unless the Provencal MSS. should be brought to light the poetical reputation of Folco must rest on the mention made of him by the more fortunate Italians.

v. 43 The crowd.] The people who inhabited the tract of country bounded by the river Tagliamento to the east, and Adice to the west.

v. 45. The hour is near.] Cunizza foretells the defeat of Giacopo da Carrara, Lord of Padua by Can Grande, at Vicenza, on the 18th September 1314. See G. Villani, 1. ix. c. 62. v. 48. One.] She predicts also the fate of Ricciardo da Camino, who is said to have been murdered at Trevigi, where the rivers (Sile and Cagnano meet) while he was engaged in playing at chess.

v. 50. The web.] The net or snare into, which he is destined to fall.

v. 50. Feltro.] The Bishop of Felto having received a number of fugitives from Ferrara, who were in opposition to the Pope, under a promise of protection, afterwards gave them up, so that they were reconducted to that city, and the greater part of them there put to death.

v. 53. Malta’s.] A tower, either in the citadel of Padua, which under the tyranny of Ezzolino, had been "with many a foul and midnight murder fed," or (as some say) near a river of the same name, that falls into the lake of Bolsena, in which the Pope was accustomed to imprison such as had been guilty of an irremissible sin.

v. 56 This priest.] The bishop, who, to show himself a zealous partisan of the Pope, had committed the above-mentioned act of treachery.

v. 58. We descry.] "We behold the things that we predict, in the mirrors of eternal truth."

v. 64. That other joyance.] Folco.

v. 76. Six shadowing wings.] "Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings." Isaiah, c. vi. 2.

v. 80. The valley of waters.] The Mediterranean sea.

v. 80. That.] The great ocean.

v. 82. Discordant shores.] Europe and Africa.

v. 83. Meridian.] Extending to the east, the Mediterranean at last reaches the coast of Palestine, which is on its horizon when it enters the straits of Gibraltar. "Wherever a man is," says Vellutello, "there he has, above his head, his own particular meridian circle."

v. 85. —’Twixt Ebro’s stream And Macra’s.] Eora, a river to the west, and Macra, to the east of Genoa, where Folco was born.

v. 88. Begga.] A place in Africa, nearly opposite to Genoa.

v. 89. Whose haven.] Alluding to the terrible slaughter of the Genoese made by the Saracens in 936, for which event Vellutello refers to the history of Augustino Giustiniani.

v. 91. This heav’n.] The planet Venus.

v. 93. Belus’ daughter.] Dido.

v. 96. She of Rhodope.] Phyllis.

v. 98. Jove’s son.] Hercules.

v. 112. Rahab.] Heb. c. xi. 31.

v. 120. With either palm.] "By the crucifixion of Christ"

v. 126. The cursed flower.] The coin of Florence, called the florin.

v. 130. The decretals.] The canon law.

v. 134. The Vatican.] He alludes either to the death of Pope Boniface VIII. or, as Venturi supposes, to the coming of the Emperor Henry VII. into Italy, or else, according to the yet more probable conjecture of Lombardi, to the transfer of the holy see from Rome to Avignon, which took place in the pontificate of Clement V.

CANTO X

v. 7. The point.] "To that part of heaven," as Venturi explains it, "in which the equinoctial circle and the Zodiac intersect each other, where the common motion of the heavens from east to west may be said to strike with greatest force against the motion proper to the planets; and this repercussion, as it were, is here the strongest, because the velocity of each is increased to the utmost by their respective distance from the poles. Such at least is the system of Dante."

v. 11. Oblique.] The zodiac.

v. 25. The part.] The above-mentioned intersection of the equinoctial circle and the zodiac.

v. 26. Minister.] The sun.

v. 30. Where.] In which the sun rises every day earlier after the vernal equinox.

v. 45. Fourth family.] The inhabitants of the sun, the fourth planet.

v. 46. Of his spirit and of his offspring.] The procession of the third, and the generation of the second person in the Trinity.

v. 70. Such was the song.] "The song of these spirits was ineffable.

v. 86. No less constrained.] "The rivers might as easily cease to flow towards the sea, as we could deny thee thy request."

v. 91. I then.] "I was of the Dominican order."

v. 95. Albert of Cologne.] Albertus Magnus was born at Laugingen, in Thuringia, in 1193, and studied at Paris and at Padua, at the latter of which places he entered into the Dominican order. He then taught theology in various parts of Germany, and particularly at Cologne. Thomas Aquinas was his favourite pupil. In 1260, he reluctantly accepted the bishopric of Ratisbon, and in two years after resigned it, and returned to his cell in Cologne, where the remainder of his life was passed in superintending the school, and in composing his voluminous works on divinity and natural science. He died in 1280. The absurd imputation of his having dealt in the magical art is well known; and his biographers take some pains to clear him of it. Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum, by Quetif and Echard, Lut. Par. 1719. fol. t. 1. p. 162.

v. 96. Of Aquinum, Thomas.] Thomas Aquinas, of whom Bucer is reported to have said, "Take but Thomas away, and I will overturn the church of Rome," and whom Hooker terms "the greatest among the school divines," (Eccl. Pol. b. 3. 9), was born of noble parents, who anxiously, but vainly, endeavoured to divert him from a life of celibacy and study; and died in 1274, at the age of fourty-seven. Echard and Quetif, ibid. p. 271. See also Purgatory Canto XX. v. 67.

v. 101. Gratian.] "Gratian, a Benedictine monk belonging to the convent of St. Felix and Nabor, at Bologna, and by birth a Tuscan, composed, about the year 1130, for the use of the schools, an abridgment or epitome of canon law, drawn from the letters of the pontiffs, the decrees of councils, and the writings of the ancient doctors." Maclaine’s Mosheim, v. iii. cent. 12. part 2. c. i. 6.

v. 101. To either forum.] "By reconciling," as Venturi explains it "the civil with the canon law."

v. 104. Peter.] "Pietro Lombardo was of obscure origin, nor is the place of his birth in Lombardy ascertained. With a recommendation from the bishop of Lucca to St. Bernard, he went into France to continue his studies, and for that purpose remained some time at Rheims, whence he afterwards proceeded to Paris. Here his reputation was so great that Philip, brother of Louis VII., being chosen bishop of Paris, resigned that dignity to Pietro, whose pupil he had been. He held his bishopric only one year, and died in 1160. His Liber Sententiarum is highly esteemed. It contains a system of scholastic theology, so much more complete than any which had been yet seen, that it may be deemed an original work." Tiraboschi, Storia della Lett. Ital. t. iii. 1. 4. c. 2.

v. 104. Who with the widow gave.] This alludes to the beginning of the Liber Sententiarum, where Peter says: "Cupiens aliquid de penuria ac tenuitate nostra cum paupercula in gazophylacium domini mittere," v. 105. The fifth light.] Solomon.

v. 112. That taper’s radiance.] St. Dionysius the Areopagite. "The famous Grecian fanatic, who gave himself out for Dionysius the Areopagite, disciple of St. Paul, and who, under the protection of this venerable name, gave laws and instructions to those that were desirous of raising their souls above all human things in order to unite them to their great source by sublime contemplation, lived most probably in this century (the fourth), though some place him before, others after, the present period." Maclaine’s Mosheim, v. i. cent. iv. p. 2. c. 3. 12.

v. 116. That pleader.] 1n the fifth century, Paulus Orosius, "acquired a considerable degree of reputation by the History he wrote to refute the cavils of the Pagans against Christianity, and by his books against the Pelagians and Priscillianists." Ibid. v. ii. cent. v. p. 2. c. 2. 11. A similar train of argument was pursued by Augustine, in his book De Civitate Dei. Orosius is classed by Dante, in his treatise De Vulg. Eloq. I ii c. 6. as one of his favourite authors, among those "qui usi sunt altissimas prosas,"—" who have written prose with the greatest loftiness of style."

v. 119. The eighth.] Boetius, whose book De Consolatione Philosophiae excited so much attention during the middle ages, was born, as Tiraboschi conjectures, about 470. "In 524 he was cruelly put to death by command of Theodoric, either on real or pretended suspicion of his being engaged in a conspiracy." Della Lett. Ital. t. iii. 1. i. c. 4.

v. 124. Cieldauro.] Boetius was buried at Pavia, in the monastery of St. Pietro in Ciel d’oro.

v. 126. Isidore.] He was Archbishop of Seville during forty years, and died in 635. See Mariana, Hist. 1. vi. c. 7. Mosheim, whose critical opinions in general must be taken with some allowance, observes that "his grammatical theological, and historical productions, discover more learning and pedantry, than judgment and taste."

v. 127. Bede.] Bede, whose virtues obtained him the appellation of the Venerable, was born in 672 at Wearmouth and Jarrow, in the bishopric of Durham, and died in 735. Invited to Rome by Pope Sergius I., he preferred passing almost the whole of his life in the seclusion of a monastery. A catalogue of his numerous writings may be seen in Kippis’s Biographia Britannica, v. ii.

v. 127. Richard.] Richard of St. Victor, a native either of Scotland or Ireland, was canon and prior of the monastery of that name at Paris and died in 1173. "He was at the head of the Mystics in this century and his treatise, entitled the Mystical Ark, which contains as it were the marrow of this kind of theology, was received with the greatest avidity." Maclaine’s Mosheim, v. iii. cent. xii. p. 2. c. 2. 23.

v. 132. Sigebert.] "A monk of the abbey of Gemblours who was in high repute at the end of the eleventh, and beginning of the twelfth century." Dict. de Moreri.

v. 131. The straw-litter’d street.] The name of a street in Paris: the "Rue du Fouarre."

v. 136. The spouse of God.] The church.

CANTO XI

v. 1. O fond anxiety of mortal men.] Lucretius, 1. ii. 14

O miseras hominum mentes ! O pectora caeca Qualibus in tenebris vitae quantisque periclis Degitur hoc aevi quodcunque est!

v. 4. Aphorisms,] The study of medicine.

v. 17. ’The lustre.] The spirit of Thomas Aquinas

v. 29. She.] The church.

v. 34. One.] Saint Francis.

v. 36. The other.] Saint Dominic.

v. 40. Tupino.] A rivulet near Assisi, or Ascesi where Francis was born in 1182.

v. 40. The wave.] Chiascio, a stream that rises in a mountain near Agobbio, chosen by St. Ubaldo for the place of his retirement.

v. 42. Heat and cold.] Cold from the snow, and heat from the reflection of the sun.

v. 45. Yoke.] Vellutello understands this of the vicinity of the mountain to Nocera and Gualdo; and Venturi (as I have taken it) of the heavy impositions laid on those places by the Perugians. For GIOGO, like the Latin JUGUM, will admit of either sense.

v. 50. The east.]

This is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Shakespeare.

v. 55. Gainst his father’s will.] In opposition to the wishes of his natural father

v. 58. In his father’s sight.] The spiritual father, or bishop, in whose presence he made a profession of poverty.

v. 60. Her first husband.] Christ.

v. 63. Amyclas.] Lucan makes Caesar exclaim, on witnessing the secure poverty of the fisherman Amyclas:

—O vite tuta facultas Pauperis, angustique lares! O munera nondum Intellecta deum! quibus hoc contingere templis, Aut potuit muris, nullo trepidare tumultu, Caesarea pulsante manu? Lucan Phars. 1. v. 531.

v. 72. Bernard.] One of the first followers of the saint.

v. 76. Egidius.] The third of his disciples, who died in 1262. His work, entitled Verba Aurea, was published in 1534, at Antwerp See Lucas Waddingus, Annales Ordinis Minoris, p. 5.

v. 76. Sylvester.] Another of his earliest associates.

v. 83. Pietro Bernardone.] A man in an humble station of life at Assisi.

v. 86. Innocent.] Pope Innocent III.

v. 90. Honorius.] His successor Honorius III who granted certain privileges to the Franciscans.

v. 93. On the hard rock.] The mountain Alverna in the Apennine.

v. 100. The last signet.] Alluding to the stigmata, or marks resembling the wounds of Christ, said to have been found on the saint’s body.

v. 106. His dearest lady.] Poverty.

v. 113. Our Patriarch ] Saint Dominic.

v. 316. His flock ] The Dominicans.

v. 127. The planet from whence they split.] "The rule of their order, which the Dominicans neglect to observe."

CANTO XII

v. 1. The blessed flame.] Thomas Aquinas

v. 12. That voice.] The nymph Echo, transformed into the repercussion of the voice.

v. 25. One.] Saint Buonaventura, general of the Franciscan order, in which he effected some reformation, and one of the most profound divines of his age. "He refused the archbishopric of York, which was offered him by Clement IV, but afterwards was prevailed on to accept the bishopric of Albano and a cardinal’s hat. He was born at Bagnoregio or Bagnorea, in Tuscany, A.D. 1221, and died in 1274." Dict. Histor. par Chaudon et Delandine. Ed. Lyon. 1804.

v. 28. The love.] By an act of mutual courtesy, Buonaventura, a Franciscan, is made to proclaim the praises of St. Dominic, as Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican, has celebrated those of St. Francis.

v. 42. In that clime.] Spain.

v. 48. Callaroga.] Between Osma and Aranda, in Old Castile, designated by the royal coat of arms.

v. 51. The loving minion of the Christian faith.] Dominic was born April 5, 1170, and died August 6, 1221. His birthplace, Callaroga; his father and mother’s names, Felix and Joanna, his mother’s dream; his name of Dominic, given him in consequence of a vision by a noble matron, who stood sponsor to him, are all told in an anonymous life of the saint, said to be written in the thirteenth century, and published by Quetif and Echard, Scriptores Ordinis Praedicatorum. Par. 1719. fol. t 1. p. 25. These writers deny his having been an inquisitor, and indeed the establishment of the inquisition itself before the fourth Lateran council. Ibid. p. 88.

v. 55. In the mother’s womb.] His mother, when pregnant with him, is said to have dreamt that she should bring forth a white and black dog, with a lighted torch in its mouth.

v. 59. The dame.] His godmother’s dream was, that he had one star in his forehead, and another in the nape of his neck, from which he communicated light to the east and the west.

v. 73. Felix.] Felix Gusman.

v. 75. As men interpret it.] Grace or gift of the Lord.

v. 77. Ostiense.] A cardinal, who explained the decretals.

v. 77. Taddeo.] A physician, of Florence.

v. 82. The see.] "The apostolic see, which no longer continues its wonted liberality towards the indigent and deserving; not indeed through its own fault, as its doctrines are still the same, but through the fault of the pontiff, who is seated in it."

v. 85. No dispensation.] Dominic did not ask license to compound for the use of unjust acquisitions, by dedicating a part of them to pious purposes.

v. 89. In favour of that seed.] "For that seed of the divine word, from which have sprung up these four-and-twenty plants, that now environ thee."

v. 101. But the track.] "But the rule of St. Francis is already deserted and the lees of the wine are turned into mouldiness."

v. 110. Tares.] He adverts to the parable of the taxes and the wheat.

v. 111. I question not.] "Some indeed might be found, who still observe the rule of the order, but such would come neither from Casale nor Acquasparta:" of the former of which places was Uberto, one master general, by whom the discipline had been relaxed; and of the latter, Matteo, another, who had enforced it with unnecessary rigour.

v. 121. -Illuminato here, And Agostino.] Two among the earliest followers of St. Francis.

v. 125. Hugues of St. Victor.] A Saxon of the monastery of Saint Victor at Paris, who fed ill 1142 at the age of forty-four. "A man distinguished by the fecundity of his genius, who treated in his writings of all the branches of sacred and profane erudition that were known in his time, and who composed several dissertations that are not destitute of merit." Maclaine’s Mosheim, Eccl. Hist. v. iii . cent. xii. p. 2. 2. 23. I have looked into his writings, and found some reason for this high eulogium.

v. 125. Piatro Mangiadore.] "Petrus Comestor, or the Eater, born at Troyes, was canon and dean of that church, and afterwards chancellor of the church of Paris. He relinquished these benefices to become a regular canon of St. Victor at Paris, where he died in 1198. Chaudon et Delandine Dict. Hist. Ed. Lyon. 1804. The work by which he is best known, is his Historia Scolastica, which I shall have occasion to cite in the Notes to Canto XXVI.

v. 126. He of Spain.] "To Pope Adrian V succeeded John XXI a native of Lisbon a man of great genius and extraordinary acquirements, especially in logic and in medicine, as his books, written in the name of Peter of Spain (by which he was known before he became Pope), may testify. His life was not much longer than that of his predecessors, for he was killed at Viterbo, by the falling in of the roof of his chamber, after he had been pontiff only eight months and as many days. A.D. 1277. Mariana, Hist. de Esp. l. xiv. c. 2.

v. 128. Chrysostom.] The eloquent patriarch of Constantinople.

v. 128. Anselmo.] "Anselm, Archbishop of Canterbury, was born at Aosta, about 1034, and studied under Lanfrane at the monastery of Bec, in Normandy, where he afterwards devoted himself to a religious life, in his twenty-seventh year. In three years he was made prior, and then abbot of that monastery! from whence he was taken, in 1093, to succeed to the archbishopric, vacant by the death of Lanfrane. He enjoyed this dignity till his death, in 1109, though it was disturbed by many dissentions with William II and Henry I respecting the immunities and investitures. There is much depth and precisian in his theological works." Tiraboschi, Stor. della Lett. Ital. t. iii.

1. iv. c. 2. Ibid. c. v. "It is an observation made by many modern writers, that the demonstration of the existence of God, taken from the idea of a Supreme Being, of which Des Cartes is thought to be the author, was so many ages back discovered and brought to light by Anselm. Leibnitz himself makes the remark, vol. v. Oper. p. 570. Edit. Genev. 1768."

v. 129. Donatus.] Aelius Donatus, the grammarian, in the fourth century, one of the preceptors of St. Jerome.

v. 130. Raban.] "Rabanus Maurus, Archbishop of Mentz, is deservedly placed at the head of the Latin writers of this age." Mosheim, v. ii. cent. ix. p. 2 c. 2. 14.

v. 131. Joachim.] Abbot of Flora in Calabria; "whom the multitude revered as a person divinely inspired and equal to the most illustrious prophets of ancient times." Ibid. v. iii. cent. xiii. p. 2. c. 2. 33.

v. 134. A peer.] St. Dominic.

CANTO XIII

v. 1. Let him.] "Whoever would conceive the sight that now presented itself to me, must imagine to himself fifteen of the brightest stars in heaven, together with seven stars of Arcturus Major and two of Arcturus Minor, ranged in two circles, one within the other, each resembling the crown of Ariadne, and moving round m opposite directions."

v. 21. The Chiava.] See Hell, Canto XXIX. 45.

v. 29. That luminary.] Thomas Aquinas.

v. 31. One ear.] "Having solved one of thy questions, I proceed to answer the other. Thou thinkest, then, that Adam and Christ were both endued with all the perfection of which the human nature is capable and therefore wonderest at what has been said concerning Solomon"

v. 48. That.] "Things corruptible and incorruptible, are only emanations from the archetypal idea residing in the Divine mind."

v. 52. His brightness.] The Word: the Son of God.

v. 53. His love triune with them.] The Holy Ghost.

v. 55. New existences.] Angels and human souls.

v. 57. The lowest powers.] Irrational life and brute matter.

v. 62. Their wax and that which moulds it.] Matter, and the virtue or energy that acts on it.

v. 68. The heav’n.] The influence of the planetary bodies.

v. 77. The clay.] Adam.

v. 88. Who ask’d.] "He did not desire to know the number of the stars, or to pry into the subtleties of metaphysical and mathematical science: but asked for that wisdom which might fit him for his kingly office."

v. 120. —Parmenides Melissus Bryso.] For the singular opinions entertained by the two former of these heathen philosophers, see Diogenes Laertius, 1. ix. and Aristot. de Caelo, 1. iii. c. 1 and Phys. l. i. c. 2. The last is also twice adduced by 2. Aristotle (Anal Post. 1. i. c. 9. and Rhet. 1. iii. c. 2.) as 3. affording instances of false reasoning.

v. 123. Sabellius, Arius.] Well-known heretics.

v. 124. Scymitars.] A passage in the travels of Bertradon de la Brocquiere, translated by Mr. Johnes, will explain this allusion, which has given some trouble to the commentators. That traveler, who wrote before Dante, informs us, p. 138, that the wandering Arabs used their scymitars as mirrors.

v. 126. Let not.] "Let not short-sighted mortals presume to decide on the future doom of any man, from a consideration of his present character and actions."

CANTO XIV

v. 5. Such was the image.] The voice of Thomas Aquinas proceeding, from the circle to the centre and that of Beatrice from the centre to the circle.

v. 26. Him.] Literally translated by Chaucer, Troilus and Cresseide.

Thou one two, and three eterne on live That raignest aie in three, two and one Uncircumscript, and all maist circonscrive,

v. 81. The goodliest light.] Solomon.

v. 78. To more lofty bliss.] To the planet Mars.

v. 94. The venerable sign.] The cross.

v. 125. He.] "He who considers that the eyes of Beatrice became more radiant the higher we ascended, must not wonder that I do not except even them as I had not yet beheld them since our entrance into this planet."

CANTO XV

v. 24. Our greater Muse.] Virgil Aen. 1. vi. 684. v. 84. I am thy root.] Cacciaguida, father to Alighieri, of whom our Poet was the great-grandson.

v. 89. The mountain.] Purgatory.

v. 92. Florence.] See G. Villani, l. iii. c. 2.

v. 93. Which calls her still.] The public clock being still within the circuit of the ancient walls.

v. 98. When.] When the women were not married at too early an age, and did not expect too large a portion.

v. 101. Void.] Through the civil wars.

v. 102 Sardanapalus.] The luxurious monarch of Assyria Juvenal is here imitated, who uses his name for an instance of effeminacy. Sat.

v. 103. Montemalo ] Either an elevated spot between Rome and Viterbo, or Monte Mario, the site of the villa Mellini, commanding a view of Rome.

v. 101. Our suburban turret.] Uccellatojo, near Florence, from whence that city was discovered.

v. 103. Bellincion Berti.] Hell, Canto XVI. 38. nd Notes. There is a curious description of the simple manner in which the earlier Florentines dressed themselves in G. Villani, 1 vi. c. 71.

v. 110. Of Nerli and of Vecchio.] Two of the most opulent families in Florence.

v. 113. Each.] "None fearful either of dying in banishment, or of being deserted by her husband on a scheme of battle in France.

v. 120. A Salterello and Cianghella.] The latter a shameless woman of the family of Tosa, married to Lito degli Alidosi of Imola: the former Lapo Salterello, a lawyer, with whom Dante was at variance.

v. 125. Mary.] The Virgin was involved in the pains of child-birth Purgatory, Canto XX. 21.

v. 130 Valdipado.] Cacciaguida’s wife, whose family name was Aldighieri; came from Ferrara, called Val di Pado, from its being watered by the Po.

v. 131. Conrad.] The Emperor Conrad III who died in 1152. See G. Villani, 1. iv. 34.

v. 136. Whose people.] The Mahometans, who were left in possession of the Holy Land, through the supineness of the Pope.

CANTO XVI

v. 10. With greeting.] The Poet, who had addressed the spirit, not knowing him to be his ancestor, with a plain "Thou," now uses more ceremony, and calls him "You," according to a custom introduced among the Romans in the latter times of the empire.

v. 15. Guinever.] Beatrice’s smile encouraged him to proceed just as the cough of Ginevra’s female servant gave her mistress assurance to admit the freedoms of Lancelot. See Hell, Canto V. 124.

v. 23. The fold.] Florence, of which John the Baptist was the patron saint.

v. 31. From the day.] From the Incarnation to the birth of Cacciaguida, the planet Mars had returned five hundred and fifty-three times to the constellation of Leo, with which it is supposed to have a congenial influence. His birth may, therefore, be placed about 1106.

v. 38. The last.] The city was divided into four compartments. The Elisei, the ancestors of Dante, resided near the entrance of that named from the Porta S. Piero, which was the last reached by the competitor in the annual race at Florence. See G. Villani, 1. iv. c. 10.

v. 44. From Mars.] "Both in the times of heathenish and of Christianity." Hell, Canto XIII. 144.

v. 48. Campi and Certaldo and Fighine.] Country places near Florence.

v. 50. That these people.] That the inhabitants of the abovementioned places had not been mixed with the citizens: nor the limits of Florence extended beyond Galluzzo and Trespiano."

v. 54. Aguglione’s hind and Signa’s.] Baldo of Aguglione, and Bonifazio of Signa.

v. 56. Had not the people.] If Rome had continued in her allegiance to the emperor, and the Guelph and Ghibelline factions had thus been prevented, Florence would not have been polluted by a race of upstarts, nor lost the most respectable of her ancient families.

v. 61. Simifonte.] A castle dismantled by the Florentines. G. Villani, 1. v. c. 30. The individual here alluded to is no longer known.

v. 69. The blind bull.] So Chaucer, Troilus and Cresseide. b. 2.

For swifter course cometh thing that is of wight When it descendeth than done things light.

Compare Aristotle, Ethic. Nic. l. vi. c. 13. [GREEK HERE]

v. 72. Luni, Urbisaglia.] Cities formerly of importance, but then fallen to decay.

v. 74. Chiusi and Sinigaglia.] The same.

v. 80. As the moon.] "The fortune of us, that are the moon’s men doth ebb and flow like the sea." Shakespeare, 1 Henry IV. a. i. s. 2.

v. 86. The Ughi.] Whoever is curious to know the habitations of these and the other ancient Florentines, may consult G. Villani, l. iv.

v. 91. At the poop.] Many editions read porta, "gate." -The same metaphor is found in Aeschylus, Supp. 356, and is there also scarce understood by the critics. [GREEK HERE] Respect these wreaths, that crown your city’s poop.

v. 99. The gilded hilt and pommel.] The symbols of knighthood

v. 100. The column cloth’d with verrey.] The arms of the Pigli.

v. 103. With them.] Either the Chiaramontesi, or the Tosinghi one of which had committed a fraud in measuring out the wheat from the public granary. See Purgatory, Canto XII. 99

v. 109. The bullets of bright gold.] The arms of the Abbati, as it is conjectured.

v. 110. The sires of those.] "Of the Visdomini, the Tosinghi and the Cortigiani, who, being sprung from the founders of the bishopric of Florence are the curators of its revenues, which they do not spare, whenever it becomes vacant."

v. 113. Th’ o’erweening brood.] The Adimari. This family was so little esteemed, that Ubertino Donato, who had married a daughter of Bellincion Berti, himself indeed derived from the same stock (see Note to Hell Canto XVI. 38.) was offended with his father-in-law, for giving another of his daughters in marriage to one of them.

v. 124. The gateway.] Landino refers this to the smallness of the city: Vellutello, with less probability, to the simplicity of the people in naming one of the gates after a private family.

v. 127. The great baron.] The Marchese Ugo, who resided at Florence as lieutenant of the Emperor Otho III, gave many of the chief families license to bear his arms. See G. Villani, 1. iv. c. 2., where the vision is related, in consequence of which he sold all his possessions in Germany, and founded seven abbeys, in one whereof his memory was celebrated at Florence on St. Thomas’s day. v. 130. One.] Giano della Bella, belonging to one of the families thus distinguished, who no longer retained his place among the nobility, and had yet added to his arms a bordure or. See Macchiavelli, 1st. Fior. 1. ii. p. 86. Ediz. Giolito.

v. 132. -Gualterotti dwelt And Importuni.] Two families in the compartment of the city called Borgo.

v. 135. The house.] Of Amidei. See Notes to Canto XXVIII. of Hell. v. 102.

v. 142. To Ema.] "It had been well for the city, if thy ancestor had been drowned in the Ema, when he crossed that stream on his way from Montebuono to Florence."

v. 144. On that maim’d stone.] See Hell, Canto XIII. 144. Near the remains of the statue of Mars. Buondelmonti was slain, as if he had been a victim to the god; and Florence had not since known the blessing of peace.

v. 150. The lily.] "The arms of Florence had never hung reversed on the spear of her enemies, in token of her defeat; nor been changed from argent to gules;" as they afterwards were, when the Guelfi gained the predominance.

CANTO XVII

v. 1. The youth.] Phaeton, who came to his mother Clymene, to inquire of her if he were indeed the son of Apollo. See Ovid, Met. 1. i. ad finem.

v. 6. That saintly lamp.] Cacciaguida.

v. 12. To own thy thirst.] "That thou mayst obtain from others a solution of any doubt that may occur to thee."

v. 15. Thou seest as clear.] "Thou beholdest future events, with the same clearness of evidence, that we discern the simplest mathematical demonstrations."

v. 19. The point.] The divine nature.

v. 27. The arrow.] Nam praevisa minus laedere tela solent. Ovid.

Che piaga antiveduta assai men duole. Petrarca, Trionfo del Tempo

v. 38. Contingency.] "The evidence with which we see the future portrayed in the source of all truth, no more necessitates that future than does the image, reflected in the sight by a ship sailing down a stream, necessitate the motion of the vessel."

v. 43. From thence.] "From the eternal sight; the view of the Deity.

v. 49. There.] At Rome, where the expulsion of Dante’s party from Florence was then plotting, in 1300.

v. 65. Theirs.] "They shall be ashamed of the part they have taken aga’nst thee."

v. 69. The great Lombard.] Either Alberto della Scala, or Bartolommeo his eldest son. Their coat of arms was a ladder and an eagle.

v. 75. That mortal.] Can Grande della Scala, born under the influence of Mars, but at this time only nine years old

v. 80. The Gascon.] Pope Clement V.

v. 80. Great Harry.] The Emperor Henry VII.

v. 127. The cry thou raisest.] "Thou shalt stigmatize the faults of those who are most eminent and powerful."

CANTO XVIII

v. 3. Temp’ring the sweet with bitter.] Chewing the end of sweet and bitter fancy. Shakespeare, As you Like it, a. 3. s. 3.

v. 26. On this fifth lodgment of the tree.] Mars, the fifth ot the @

v. 37. The great Maccabee.] Judas Maccabeus.

v. 39. Charlemagne.] L. Pulci commends Dante for placing Charlemagne and Orlando here: Io mi confido ancor molto qui a Dante Che non sanza cagion nel ciel su misse Carlo ed Orlando in quelle croci sante, Che come diligente intese e scrisse. Morg. Magg. c. 28.

v. 43. William and Renard.] Probably not, as the commentators have imagined, William II of Orange, and his kinsman Raimbaud, two of the crusaders under Godfrey of Bouillon, (Maimbourg, Hist. des Croisades, ed. Par. 1682. 12mo. t. i. p. 96.) but rather the two more celebrated heroes in the age of Charlemagne. The former, William l. of Orange, supposed to have been the founder of the present illustrious family of that name, died about 808, according to Joseph de la Piser, Tableau de l’Hist. des Princes et Principante d’Orange. Our countryman, Ordericus Vitalis, professes to give his true life, which had been misrepresented in the songs of the itinerant bards." Vulgo canitur a joculatoribus de illo, cantilena; sed jure praeferenda est relatio authentica." Eccl. Hist. in Duchesne, Hist. Normann Script. p. 508. The latter is better known by having been celebrated by Ariosto, under the name of Rinaldo.

v. 43. Duke Godfey.] Godfrey of Bouillon.

v. 46. Robert Guiscard.] See Hell, Canto XXVIII. v. 12.

v. 81. The characters.] Diligite justitiam qui judicatis terrarm. "Love righteousness, ye that be judges of the earth " Wisdom of Solomon, c. i. 1.

v. 116. That once more.] "That he may again drive out those who buy and sell in the temple."

v. 124. Taking the bread away.] "Excommunication, or the interdiction of the Eucharist, is now employed as a weapon of warfare."

v. 126. That writest but to cancel.] "And thou, Pope Boniface, who writest thy ecclesiastical censures for no other purpose than to be paid for revoking them."

v. 130. To him.] The coin of Florence was stamped with the impression of John the Baptist.

CANTO XIX

v. 38. Who turn’d his compass.] Compare Proverbs, c. viii. 27. And Milton, P. L. b. vii 224.

v. 42. The Word] "The divine nature still remained incomprehensible. Of this Lucifer was a proof; for had he thoroughly comprehended it, he would not have fallen."

v. 108. The Ethiop.] Matt. c. xii. 41.

v. 112. That volume.] Rev. c. xx. 12.

v. 114. Albert.] Purgatory, Canto VI. v. 98.

v. 116. Prague.] The eagle predicts the devastation of Bohemia by Albert, which happened soon after this time, when that Emperor obtained the kingdom for his eldest son Rodolph. See Coxe’s House of Austria, 4to. ed. v. i. part 1. p. 87

v. 117. He.] Philip IV of France, after the battle of Courtrai, 1302, in which the French were defeated by the Flemings, raised the nominal value of the coin. This king died in consequence of his horse being thrown to the ground by a wild boar, in 1314

v. 121. The English and Scot.] He adverts to the disputes between John Baliol and Edward I, the latter of whom is commended in the Purgatory, Canto VII. v. 130.

v. 122. The Spaniard’s luxury.] The commentators refer this to Alonzo X of Spain. It seems probable that the allusion is to Ferdinand IV who came to the crown in 1295, and died in 1312, at the age of twenty four, in consequence, as it was supposed, of his extreme intemperance. See Mariana, Hist I. xv. c. 11.

v. 123. The Bohemian.] Winceslaus II. Purgatory, Canto VII. v.

v. 125. The halter of Jerusalem.] Charles II of Naples and Jerusalem who was lame. See note to Purgatory, Canto VII. v. 122, and XX. v. 78.

v. 127. He.] Frederick of Sicily son of Peter III of Arragon. Purgatory, Canto VII. v. 117. The isle of fire is Sicily, where was the tomb of Anchises.

v. 133. His uncle.] James, king of Majorca and Minorca, brother to Peter III.

v. 133. His brother.] James II of Arragon, who died in 1327. See Purgatory, Canto VII. v. 117.

v. 135. Of Portugal.] In the time of Dante, Dionysius was king of Portugal. He died in 1328, after a reign of near forty-six years, and does not seem to have deserved the stigma here fastened on him. See Mariana. and 1. xv. c. 18. Perhaps the rebellious son of Dionysius may be alluded to.

v. 136. Norway.] Haquin, king of Norway, is probably meant; who, having given refuge to the murderers of Eric VII king of Denmark, A D. 1288, commenced a war against his successor, Erie VIII, "which continued for nine years, almost to the utter ruin and destruction of both kingdoms." Modern Univ. Hist. v. xxxii p. 215.

v. 136. -Him Of Ratza.] One of the dynasty of the house of Nemagna, which ruled the kingdom of Rassia, or Ratza, in Sclavonia, from 1161 to 1371, and whose history may be found in Mauro Orbino, Regno degli Slavi, Ediz. Pesaro. 1601. Uladislaus appears to have been the sovereign in Dante’s time, but the disgraceful forgery adverted to in the text, is not recorded by the historian v. 138. Hungary.] The kingdom of Hungary was about this time disputed by Carobert, son of Charles Martel, and Winceslaus, prince of Bohemia, son of Winceslaus II. See Coxe’s House of Austria, vol. i. p. 1. p. 86.

4to edit.

v. 140. Navarre.] Navarre was now under the yoke of France.
It soon after (in 1328) followed the advice of Dante and had a monarch of its own. Mariana, 1. xv. c. 19.

v. 141. Mountainous girdle.] The Pyrenees.

v. 143. -Famagosta’s streets And Nicosia’s.]

Cities in the kingdom of Cyprus, at that time ruled by Henry II a pusillanimous prince. Vertot. Hist. des Chev. de Malte, 1. iii. iv. The meaning appears to be, that the complaints made by those cities of their weak and worthless governor, may be regarded as an earnest of his condemnation at the last doom.

CANTO XX

v. 6. Wherein one shines.] The light of the sun, whence he supposes the other celestial bodies to derive their light

v. 8. The great sign.] The eagle, the Imperial ensign.

v. 34. Who.] David.

v. 39. He.] Trajan. See Purgatory, Canto X. 68.

v. 44. He next.] Hezekiah.

v. 50. ’The other following.] Constantine. There is no passage in which Dante’s opinion of the evil; that had arisen from the mixture of the civil with the ecclesiastical power, is more unequivocally declared.

v. 57. William.] William II, king of Sicily, at the latter part of the twelfth century He was of the Norman line of sovereigns, and obtained the appellation of "the Good" and, as the poet says his loss was as much the subject of regret in his dominions, as the presence of Charles I of Anjou and Frederick of Arragon, was of sorrow and complaint.

v. 62. Trojan Ripheus.] Ripheus, justissimus unus Qui fuit in Teneris, et servantissimus aequi. Virg. Aen. 1. ii. 4—.

v. 97. This.] Ripheus.

v. 98. That.] Trajan.

v. 103. The prayers,] The prayers of St. Gregory

v. 119. The three nymphs.] Faith, Hope, and Charity. Purgatory, Canto XXIX. 116. v. 138. The pair.] Ripheus and Trajan.

CANTO XXI

v. 12. The seventh splendour.] The planet Saturn

v. 13. The burning lion’s breast.] The constellation Leo.

v. 21. In equal balance.] "My pleasure was as great in complying with her will as in beholding her countenance."

v. 24. Of that lov’d monarch.] Saturn. Compare Hell, Canto XIV. 91.

v. 56. What forbade the smile.] "Because it would have overcome thee."

v. 61. There aloft.] Where the other souls were.

v. 97. A stony ridge.] The Apennine.

v. 112. Pietro Damiano.] "S. Pietro Damiano obtained a great and well-merited reputation, by the pains he took to correct the abuses among the clergy. Ravenna is supposed to have been the place of his birth, about 1007. He was employed in several important missions, and rewarded by Stephen IX with the dignity of cardinal, and the bishopric of Ostia, to which, however, he preferred his former retreat in the monastery of Fonte Aveliana, and prevailed on Alexander II to permit him to retire thither. Yet he did not long continue in this seclusion, before he was sent on other embassies. He died at Faenza in 1072. His letters throw much light on the obscure history of these times. Besides them, he has left several treatises on sacred and ecclesiastical subjects. His eloquence is worthy of a better age." Tiraboschi, Storia della Lett Ital. t. iii. 1. iv. c. 2.

v. 114. Beside the Adriatic.] At Ravenna. Some editions have FU instead of FUI, according to which reading, Pietro distinguishes himself from another Pietro, who was termed "Peccator," the sinner.

v. 117. The hat.] The cardinal’s hat.

v. 118. Cephas.] St. Peter.

v. 119 The Holy Spirit’s vessel.] St. Paul. See Hell, Canto II. 30.

v. 130. Round this.] Round the spirit of Pietro Damiano.

CANTO XXII

v. 14. The vengeance.] Beatrice, it is supposed, intimates the approaching fate of Boniface VIII. See Purgatory, Canto XX. 86.

v. 36. Cassino.] A castle in the Terra di Lavoro.

v. 38. I it was.] "A new order of monks, which in a manner absorbed all the others that were established in the west, was instituted, A.D. 529, by Benedict of Nursis, a man of piety and reputation for the age he lived in." Maclaine’s Mosheim, Eccles. Hist. v. ii. cent. vi. p. 2. ch. 2 - 6.

v. 48. Macarius.] There are two of this name enumerated by Mosheim among the Greek theologians of the fourth century, v. i. cent. iv p. 11 ch. 2 - 9. In the following chapter, 10, it is said, "Macarius, an Egyptian monk, undoubtedly deserves the first rank among the practical matters of this time, as his works displayed, some few things excepted, the brightest and most lovely portraiture of sanctity and virtue."

v. 48. Romoaldo.] S. Romoaldo, a native of Ravenna, and the founder of the order of Camaldoli, died in 1027. He was the author of a commentary on the Psalms.

v. 70. The patriarch Jacob.] So Milton, P. L. b. iii. 510: The stairs were such, as whereon Jacob saw Angels ascending and descending, bands Of guardians bright.

v. 107. The sign.] The constellation of Gemini.

v. 130. This globe.] So Chaucer, Troilus and Cresseide, b. v,

And down from thence fast he gan avise This little spot of earth, that with the sea Embraced is, and fully gan despite This wretched world.

Compare Cicero, Somn. Scip. "Jam ipsa terra ita mihi parva visa est." &c. Lucan, Phar 1. ix. 11; and Tasso, G. L. c. xiv. st, 9, 10, 11.

v. 140. Maia and Dione.] The planets Mercury and Venus.

CANTO XXIII

v. 11. That region.] Towards the south, where the course of the sun appears less rapid, than, when he is in the east or the west.

v. 26. Trivia.] A name of Diana.

v. 26. Th’ eternal nymphs.] The stars.

v. 36. The Might.] Our Saviour

v. 71. The rose.] The Virgin Mary.

v. 73. The lilies.] The apostles.

v. 84. Thou didst exalt thy glory.] The diving light retired upwards, to render the eyes of Dante more capable of enduring the spectacle which now presented itself.

v. 86. The name of that fair flower.] The name of the Virgin.

v. 92. A cresset.] The angel Gabriel.

v. 98. That lyre.] By synecdoche, the lyre is put for the angel

v. 99. The goodliest sapphire.] The Virgin

v. 126. Those rich-laden coffers.] Those spirits who, having sown the seed of good works on earth, now contain the fruit of their pious endeavours.

v. 129. In the Babylonian exile.] During their abode in this world.

v. 133. He.] St. Peter, with the other holy men of the Old and New testament.

CANTO XXIV

v. 28. Such folds.] Pindar has the same bold image: [GREEK HERE?] On which Hayne strangely remarks: Ad ambitus stropharum vldetur

v. 65. Faith.] Hebrews, c. xi. 1. So Marino, in one of his sonnets, which calls Divozioni:

Fede e sustanza di sperate cose, E delle non visioili argomento.

v. 82. Current.] "The answer thou hast made is right; but let me know if thy inward persuasion is conformable to thy profession."

v. 91. The ancient bond and new.] The Old and New Testament.

v. 114. That Worthy.] Quel Baron. In the next Canto, St. James is called "Barone." So in Boccaccio, G. vi. N. 10, we find "Baron Messer Santo Antonio." v. 124. As to outstrip.] Venturi insists that the Poet has here, "made a slip;" for that John came first to the sepulchre, though Peter was the first to enter it. But let Dante have leave to explain his own meaning, in a passage from his third book De Monarchia: "Dicit etiam Johannes ipsum (scilicet Petrum) introiisse SUBITO, cum venit in monumentum, videns allum discipulum cunctantem ad ostium." Opere de Dante, Ven. 1793. T. ii. P. 146.

CANTO XXV

v. 6. The fair sheep-fold.] Florence, whence he was banished.

v. 13. For its sake.] For the sake of that faith.

v. 20. Galicia throng’d with visitants.] See Mariana, Hist. 1. xi.

v. 13. "En el tiempo," &c. "At the time that the sepulchre of the apostle St. James was discovered, the devotion for that place extended itself not only over all Spain, but even round about to foreign nations. Multitudes from all parts of the world came to visit it. Many others were deterred by the difficulty for the journey, by the roughness and barrenness of those parts, and by the incursions of the Moors, who made captives many of the pilgrims. The canons of St. Eloy afterwards (the precise time is not known), with a desire of remedying these evils, built, in many places, along the whole read, which reached as far as to France, hospitals for the reception of the pilgrims."

v. 31. Who.] The Epistle of St. James is here attributed to the elder apostle of that name, whose shrine was at Compostella, in Galicia. Which of the two was the author of it is yet doubtful. The learned and candid Michaelis contends very forcibly for its having been written by James the Elder. Lardner rejects that opinion as absurd; while Benson argues against it, but is well answered by Michaelis, who after all, is obliged to leave the question undecided. See his Introduction to the New Testament, translated by Dr. Marsh, ed. Cambridge, 1793. V. iv. c. 26. - 1, 2, 3.

v. 35. As Jesus.] In the transfiguration on Mount Tabor.

v. 39. The second flame.] St. James.

v. 40. I lifted up.] "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help." Ps. Cxxi. 1.

v. 59. From Egypt to Jerusalem.] From the lower world to heaven.

v. 67. Hope.] This is from the Sentences of Petrus Lombardus. "Est autem spes virtus, qua spiritualia et aeterna bona speratam, id est, beatitudinem aeternam. Sine meritis enim aliquid sperare non spes, sed praesumptio, dici potest." Pet. Lomb. Sent. 1. Iii. Dist. 26. Ed. Bas. 1486. Fol.

v. 74. His anthem.] Psalm ix. 10.

v. 90. Isaias ] Chap. lxi. 10.

v. 94. Thy brother.] St. John in the Revelation, c. vii. 9.

v. 101. Winter’s month.] "If a luminary, like that which now appeared, were to shine throughout the month following the winter solstice during which the constellation Cancer appears in the east at the setting of the sun, there would be no interruption to the light, but the whole month would be as a single day."

v. 112. This.] St. John, who reclined on the bosom of our Saviour, and to whose charge Jesus recommended his mother.

v. 121. So I.] He looked so earnestly, to descry whether St. John were present there in body, or in spirit only, having had his doubts raised by that saying of our Saviour’s: "If I will, that he tarry till I come what is that to thee."

v. 127. The two.] Christ and Mary, whom he has described, in the last Canto but one, as rising above his sight

CANTO XXVI

v. 2. The beamy flame.] St. John.

v. 13. Ananias’ hand.] Who, by putting his hand on St. Paul, restored his sight. Acts, c. ix. 17.

v. 36. From him.] Some suppose that Plato is here meant, who, in his Banquet, makes Phaedrus say: "Love is confessedly amongst the eldest of beings, and, being the eldest, is the cause to us of the greatest goods " Plat. Op. t. x. p. 177. Bip. ed. Others have understood it of Aristotle, and others, of the writer who goes by the name of Dionysius the Areopagite, referred to in the twenty-eighth Canto.

v. 40. I will make.] Exodus, c. xxxiii. 19.

v. 42. At the outset.] John, c. i. 1. &c.

v. 51. The eagle of our Lord.] St. John

v. 62. The leaves.] Created beings.

v. 82. The first living soul.] Adam.

v. 107. Parhelion.] Who enlightens and comprehends all things; but is himself enlightened and comprehended by none.

v. 117. Whence.] That is, from Limbo. See Hell, Canto II. 53. Adam says that 5232 years elapsed from his creation to the time of his deliverance, which followed the death of Christ.

v. 133. EL] Some read UN, "One," instead of EL: but the latter of these readings is confirmed by a passage from Dante’s Treatise De Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. cap. 4. "Quod prius vox primi loquentis sonaverit, viro sanae mentis in promptu esse non dubito ipsum fuisse quod Deus est, videlicet El." St. Isidore in the Origines, 1. vii. c. 1. had said, "Primum apud Hebraeos Dei nomen El dicitur."

v. 135. Use.] From Horace, Ars. Poet. 62.

v. 138. All my life.] "I remained in the terrestrial Paradise only tothe seventh hour." In the Historia Scolastica of Petrus Comestor, it is said of our first parents: Quidam tradunt eos fuisse in Paradiso septem horae." I. 9. ed. Par. 1513. 4to.

CANTO XXVII

v. 1. Four torches.] St. Peter, St. James, St. John, and Adam.

v. 11. That.] St. Peter’ who looked as the planet Jupiter would, if it assumed the sanguine appearance of liars.

v. 20. He.] Boniface VIII.

v. 26. such colour.] Qui color infectis adversi solis ab ietu Nubibus esse solet; aut purpureae Aurorae. Ovid, Met. 1. iii. 184.

v. 37. Of Linus and of Cletus.] Bishops of Rome in the first century.

v. 40. Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed And Urban.] The former two, bishops of the same see, in the second; and the others, in the fourth century. v. 42. No purpose was of ours.] "We did not intend that our successors should take any part in the political divisions among Christians, or that my figure (the seal of St. Peter) should serve as a mark to authorize iniquitous grants and privileges."

v. 51. Wolves.] Compare Milton, P. L. b. xii. 508, &c.

v. 53. Cahorsines and Gascons.] He alludes to Jacques d’Ossa, a native of Cahors, who filled the papal chair in 1316, after it had been two years vacant, and assumed the name of John XXII., and to Clement V, a Gascon, of whom see Hell, Canto XIX. 86, and Note.

v. 63. The she-goat.] When the sun is in Capricorn.

v. 72. From the hour.] Since he had last looked (see Canto XXII.) he perceived that he had passed from the meridian circle to the eastern horizon, the half of our hemisphere, and a quarter of the heaven.

v. 76. From Gades.] See Hell, Canto XXVI. 106

v. 78. The shore.] Phoenicia, where Europa, the daughter of Agenor mounted on the back of Jupiter, in his shape of a bull.

v. 80. The sun.] Dante was in the constellation Gemini, and the sun in Aries. There was, therefore, part of those two constellations, and the whole of Taurus, between them.

v. 93. The fair nest of Leda.] "From the Gemini;" thus called, because Leda was the mother of the twins, Castor and Pollux

v. 112. Time’s roots.] "Here," says Beatrice, "are the roots, from whence time springs: for the parts, into which it is divided, the other heavens must be considered." And she then breaks out into an exclamation on the degeneracy of human nature, which does not lift itself to the contemplation of divine things.

v. 126. The fair child of him.] So she calls human nature. Pindar by a more easy figure, terms the day, "child of the sun."

v. 129. None.] Because, as has been before said, the shepherds are become wolves.

v. 131. Before the date.] "Before many ages are past, before those fractions, which are drops in the reckoning of every year, shall amount to so large a portion of time, that January shall be no more a winter month." By this periphrasis is meant " in a short time," as we say familiarly, such a thing will happen before a thousand years are over when we mean, it will happen soon.

v. 135. Fortune shall be fain.] The commentators in general suppose that our Poet here augurs that great reform, which he vainly hoped would follow on the arrival of the Emperor Henry VII. in Italy. Lombardi refers the prognostication to Can Grande della Scala: and, when we consider that this Canto was not finished till after the death of Henry, as appears from the mention that is made of John XXII, it cannot be denied but the conjecture is probable.

CANTO XXVIII

v. 36. Heav’n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.] [GREEK HERE] Aristot. Metaph. 1. xii. c. 7. "From that beginning depend heaven and nature."

v. 43. Such diff’rence.] The material world and the intelligential (the copy and the pattern) appear to Dante to differ in this respect, that the orbits of the latter are more swift, the nearer they are to the centre, whereas the contrary is the case with the orbits of the former. The seeming contradiction is thus accounted for by Beatrice. In the material world, the more ample the body is, the greater is the good of which itis capable supposing all the parts to be equally perfect. But in the intelligential world, the circles are more excellent and powerful, the more they approximate to the central point, which is God. Thus the first circle, that of the seraphim, corresponds to the ninth sphere, or primum mobile, the second, that of the cherubim, to the eighth sphere, or heaven of fixed stars; the third, or circle of thrones, to the seventh sphere, or planet of Saturn; and in like manner throughout the two other trines of circles and spheres.

In orbs Of circuit inexpressible they stood, Orb within orb Milton, P. L. b. v. 596.

v. 70. The sturdy north.] Compare Homer, II. b. v. 524.

v. 82. In number.] The sparkles exceeded the number which would be produced by the sixty-four squares of a chess-board, if for the first we reckoned one, for the next, two; for the third, four; and so went on doubling to the end of the account.

v. 106. Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram.] Not injured, like the productions of our spring, by the influence of autumn, when the constellation Aries rises at sunset.

v. 110. Dominations.] Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, domination’s, princedoms, virtues, powers. Milton, P. L. b. v. 601.

v. 119. Dionysius.] The Areopagite, in his book De Caelesti Hierarchia.

v. 124. Gregory.] Gregory the Great. "Novem vero angelorum ordines diximus, quia videlicet esse, testante sacro eloquio, scimus: Angelos, archangelos, virtutes, potestates, principatus, dominationae, thronos, cherubin atque seraphin." Divi Gregorii, Hom. xxxiv. f. 125. ed. Par. 1518. fol.

v. 126. He had learnt.] Dionysius, he says, had learnt from St. Paul. It is almost unnecessary to add, that the book, above referred to, which goes under his name, was the production of a later age.

CANTO XXIX

v. 1. No longer.] As short a space, as the sun and moon are in changing hemispheres, when they are opposite to one another, the one under the sign of Aries, and the other under that of Libra, and both hang for a moment, noised as it were in the hand of the zenith.

v. 22. For, not in process of before or aft.] There was neither "before nor after," no distinction, that is, of time, till the creation of the world.

v. 30. His threefold operation.] He seems to mean that spiritual beings, brute matter, and the intermediate part of the creation, which participates both of spirit and matter, were produced at once.

v. 38. On Jerome’s pages.] St. Jerome had described the angels as created before the rest of the universe: an opinion which Thomas Aquinas controverted; and the latter, as Dante thinks, had Scripture on his side.

v. 51. Pent.] See Hell, Canto XXXIV. 105.

v. 111. Of Bindi and of Lapi.] Common names of men at Florence

v. 112. The sheep.] So Milton, Lycidas. The hungry sheep look up and are not fed, But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly.

v. 121. The preacher.] Thus Cowper, Task, b. ii.

’Tis pitiful To court a grin, when you should woo a soul, &c.

v. 131. Saint Anthony. Fattens with this his swine.] On the sale of these blessings, the brothers of St. Anthony supported themselves and their paramours. From behind the swine of St. Anthony, our Poet levels a blow at the object of his inveterate enmity, Boniface VIII, from whom, "in 1297, they obtained the dignity and privileges of an independent congregation." See Mosheim’s Eccles. History in Dr. Maclaine’s Translation, v. ii. cent. xi. p. 2. c. 2. - 28.

v. 140. Daniel.] "Thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him." Dan. c. vii. 10.

CANTO XXX

v. 1. Six thousand miles.] He compares the vanishing of the vision to the fading away of the stars at dawn, when it is noon-day six thousand miles off, and the shadow, formed by the earth over the part of it inhabited by the Poet, is about to disappear.

v. 13. Engirt.] " ppearing to be encompassed by these angelic bands, which are in reality encompassed by it."

v. 18. This turn.] Questa vice. Hence perhaps Milton, P. L. b. viii. 491. This turn hath made amends.

v. 39. Forth.] From the ninth sphere to the empyrean, which is more light.

v. 44. Either mighty host.] Of angels, that remained faithful, and of beatified souls, the latter in that form which they will have at the last day. v. 61. Light flowing.] "And he showed me a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God and of the Lamb." Rev. cxxii. I.

—underneath a bright sea flow’d Of jasper, or of liquid pearl. Milton, P. L. b. iii. 518.

v. 80. Shadowy of the truth.] Son di lor vero ombriferi prefazii. So Mr. Coleridge, in his Religious Musings, v. 406. Life is a vision shadowy of truth.

v. 88. —the eves Of mine eyelids.] Thus Shakespeare calls the eyelids "penthouse lids." Macbeth, a, 1. s, 3.

v. 108. As some cliff.] A lake That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown’d Her crystal mirror holds. Milton, P. L. b. iv. 263.

v. 118. My view with ease.] Far and wide his eye commands For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade, But all sunshine. Milton, P. l. b. iii. 616.

v. 135. Of the great Harry.] The Emperor Henry VII, who died in 1313.

v. 141. He.] Pope Clement V. See Canto XXVII. 53.

v. 145. Alagna’s priest.] Pope Boniface VIII. Hell, Canto XIX.

79.

CANTO XXXI

v. 6. Bees.] Compare Homer, Iliad, ii. 87. Virg. Aen. I. 430, and Milton, P. L. b. 1. 768.

v. 29. Helice.] Callisto, and her son Arcas, changed into the constellations of the Greater Bear and Arctophylax, or Bootes. See Ovid, Met. l. ii. fab. v. vi.

v. 93. Bernard.] St. Bernard, the venerable abbot of Clairvaux, and the great promoter of the second crusade, who died A.D. 1153, in his sixty-third year. His sermons are called by Henault, "chefs~d’oeuvres de sentiment et de force." Abrege Chron. de l’Hist. de Fr. 1145. They have even been preferred to al1 the productions of the ancients, and the author has been termed the last of the fathers of the church. It is uncertain whether they were not delivered originally in the French tongue.

That the part he acts in the present Poem should be assigned to him. appears somewhat remarkable, when we consider that he severely censured the new festival established in honour of the Immaculate Conception of the virgin, and opposed the doctrine itself with the greatest vigour, as it supposed her being honoured with a privilegewhich belonged to Christ Alone Dr. Maclaine’s Mosheim, v. iii. cent. xii. p. ii. c. 3 - 19.

v. 95. Our Veronica ] The holy handkerchief, then preserved at Rome, on which the countenance of our Saviour was supposed to have been imprest.

v. 101. Him.] St. Bernard.

v. 108. The queen.] The Virgin Mary.

v. 119. Oriflamb.] Menage on this word quotes the Roman des Royau -Iignages of Guillaume Ghyart. Oriflamme est une banniere De cendal roujoyant et simple Sans portraiture d’autre affaire,

CANTO XXXII

v. 3. She.] Eve.

v. 8. Ancestress.] Ruth, the ancestress of David.

v. 60. In holy scripture.] Gen. c. xxv. 22. v. 123. Lucia.] See Hell, Canto II. 97.

CANTO XXXIII

v. 63. The Sybil’s sentence.] Virg. Aen. iii. 445.

v. 89. One moment.] "A moment seems to me more tedious, than five-and-twenty ages would have appeared to the Argonauts, when they had resolved on their expedition.

v. 92. Argo’s shadow] Quae simul ac rostro ventosnm proscidit aequor, Tortaque remigio spumis incanduit unda, Emersere feri candenti e gurgite vultus Aequoreae monstrum Nereides admirantes. Catullus, De Nupt. Pel. et Thet. 15.

v. 109. Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound.] The Trinity.

v. 118. That circling.] The second of the circles, "Light of Light," in which he dimly beheld the mystery of the incarnation.