Part 49

er’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 an 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 be