v. 94. The chapel stands.] The church of San Miniato in Florence

situated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it is crossed by

the bridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer Rubaconte da Mandelia, of

Milan chief magistrate of Florence, by whom the bridge was founded in

1237. See G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 27.

v. 96. The well-guided city] This is said ironically of Florence.

v. 99. The registry.] In allusion to certain instances of fraud

committed with respect to the public accounts and measures See Paradise

Canto XVI. 103.

CANTO XIII

v. 26. They have no wine.] John, ii. 3. These words of the Virgin are

referred to as an instance of charity.

v. 29. Orestes] Alluding to his friendship with Pylades

v. 32. Love ye those have wrong’d you.] Matt. c. v. 44.

v. 33. The scourge.] “The chastisement of envy consists in hearing

examples of the opposite virtue, charity. As a curb and restraint on

this vice, you will presently hear very different sounds, those of

threatening and punishment.”

v. 87. Citizens Of one true city.] “For here we have no continuing

city, but we seek to come.” Heb. C. xiii. 14.

v. 101. Sapia.] A lady of Sienna, who, living in exile at Colle, was so

overjoyed at a defeat which her countrymen sustained near that place

that she declared nothing more was wanting to make her die contented.

v. 114. The merlin.] The story of the merlin is that having been

induced by a gleam of fine weather in the winter to escape from his

master, he was soon oppressed by the rigour of the season.

v. 119. The hermit Piero.] Piero Pettinagno, a holy hermit of Florence.

v. 141. That vain multitude.] The Siennese. See Hell, Canto XXIX. 117.

“Their acquisition of Telamone, a seaport on the confines of the

Maremma, has led them to conceive hopes of becoming a naval power: but

this scheme will prove as chimerical as their former plan for the

discovery of a subterraneous stream under their city.” Why they gave

the appellation of Diana to the imagined stream, Venturi says he leaves

it to the antiquaries of Sienna to conjecture.

CANTO XIV

v. 34. Maim’d of Pelorus.] Virg. Aen. 1. iii. 414.

—a hill Torn from Pelorus Milton P. L. b. i. 232

v. 45. ’Midst brute swine.] The people of Casentino.

v. 49. Curs.] The Arno leaves Arezzo about four miles to the left.

v. 53. Wolves.] The Florentines.

v. 55. Foxes.] The Pisans

v. 61. Thy grandson.] Fulcieri de’ Calboli, grandson of Rinieri de’

Calboli, who is here spoken to. The atrocities predicted came to pass

in 1302. See G. Villani, 1. viii c. 59

v. 95. ’Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore.] The boundaries

of Romagna.

v. 99. Lizio.] Lizio da Valbona, introduced into Boccaccio’s Decameron,

G. v. N, 4.

v. 100. Manardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna.1 Arrigo Manardi of Faenza,

or as some say, of Brettinoro, Pier Traversaro, lord of Ravenna, and

Guido di Carpigna of Montefeltro.

v. 102. In Bologna the low artisan.] One who had been a mechanic named

Lambertaccio, arrived at almost supreme power in Bologna.

v. 103. Yon Bernardin.] Bernardin di Fosco, a man of low origin but

great talents, who governed at Faenza.

v. 107. Prata.] A place between Faenza and Ravenna

v. 107. Of Azzo him.] Ugolino of the Ubaldini family in Tuscany He is

recounted among the poets by Crescimbeni and Tiraboschi.

v. 108. Tignoso.] Federigo Tignoso of Rimini.

v. 109. Traversaro’s house and Anastagio’s.] Two noble families of

Ravenna. She to whom Dryden has given the name of Honoria, in the fable

so admirably paraphrased from Boccaccio, was of the former: her lover

and the specter were of the Anastagi family.

v. 111. The ladies, &c.] These two lines express the true spirit of

chivalry. “Agi” is understood by the commentators whom I have

consulted,to mean “the ease procured for others by the exertions of

knight-errantry.” But surely it signifies the alternation of ease with

labour.

v. 114. O Brettinoro.] A beautifully situated castle in Romagna, the

hospitable residence of Guido del Duca, who is here speaking.

v. 118. Baynacavallo.] A castle between Imola and Ravenna

v. 118. Castracaro ill And Conio worse.] Both in Romagna.

v. 121. Pagani.] The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola. One of them

Machinardo, was named the Demon, from his treachery. See Hell, Canto

XXVII. 47, and Note.

v. 124. Hugolin.] Ugolino Ubaldini, a noble and virtuous person in

Faenza, who, on account of his age probably, was not likely to leave

any offspring behind him. He is enumerated among the poets by

Crescimbeni, and Tiraboschi. Mr. Matthias’s edit. vol. i. 143

v. 136. Whosoever finds Will slay me.] The words of Cain, Gen. e. iv.

14.

v. 142. Aglauros.] Ovid, Met. I, ii. fate. 12.

v. 145. There was the galling bit.] Referring to what had been before

said, Canto XIII. 35.

CANTO XV

v. 1. As much.] It wanted three hours of sunset.

v. 16. As when the ray.] Compare Virg. Aen. 1.viii. 22, and Apol. Rhod.

1. iii. 755.

v. 19. Ascending at a glance.] Lucretius, 1. iv. 215.

v. 20. Differs from the stone.] The motion of light being quicker than

that of a stone through an equal space.

v. 38. Blessed the merciful. Matt. c. v. 7.

v. 43. Romagna’s spirit.] Guido del Duea, of Brettinoro whom we have

seen in the preceding Canto.

v. 87. A dame.] Luke, c. ii. 18

v. 101. How shall we those requite.] The answer of Pisistratus the

tyrant to his wife, when she urged him to inflict the punishment of

death on a young man, who, inflamed with love for his daughter, had

snatched from her a kiss in public. The story is told by Valerius

Maximus, 1.v. 1.

v. 105. A stripling youth.] The protomartyr Stephen.

CANTO XVI

v. 94. As thou.] “If thou wert still living.”

v. 46. I was of Lombardy, and Marco call’d.] A Venetian gentleman.

“Lombardo” both was his surname and denoted the country to which he

belonged. G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 120, terms him “a wise and worthy

courtier.”

v. 58. Elsewhere.] He refers to what Guido del Duca had said in the

thirteenth Canto, concerning the degeneracy of his countrymen.

v. 70. If this were so.] Mr. Crowe in his Lewesdon Hill has expressed

similar sentiments with much energy.

Of this be sure,

Where freedom is not, there no virtue is, &c.

Compare Origen in Genesim, Patrum Graecorum, vol. xi. p. 14. Wirer

burgi, 1783. 8vo.

v. 79. To mightier force.] “Though ye are subject to a higher power

than that of the heavenly constellations, e`en to the power of the

great Creator himself, yet ye are still left in the possession of

liberty.”

v. 88. Like a babe that wantons sportively.] This reminds one of the

Emperor Hadrian’s verses to his departing soul:

Animula vagula blandula, &c

v. 99. The fortress.] Justice, the most necessary virtue in the chief

magistrate, as the commentators explain it.

v. 103. Who.] He compares the Pope, on account of the union of the

temporal with the spiritual power in his person, to an unclean beast in

the levitical law. “The camel, because he cheweth the cud, but divideth

not the hoof, he is unclean unto you.” Levit. c. xi. 4.

v. 110. Two sons.] The Emperor and the Bishop of Rome.

v. 117. That land.] Lombardy.

v. 119. Ere the day.] Before the Emperor Frederick II was defeated

before Parma, in 1248. G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 35.

v. 126. The good Gherardo.] Gherardo di Camino of Trevigi. He is

honourably mentioned in our Poet’s “Convito.” Opere di Dante, t. i. p.

173 Venez. 8vo. 1793. And Tiraboschi supposes him to have been the same

Gherardo with whom the Provencal poets were used to meet with

hospitable reception. See Mr. Matthias’s edition, t. i. p. 137, v. 127.

Conrad.] Currado da Palazzo, a gentleman of Brescia.

v. 127. Guido of Castello.] Of Reggio. All the Italians were called

Lombards by the French.

v. 144. His daughter Gaia.] A lady equally admired for her modesty, the

beauty of her person, and the excellency of her talents. Gaia, says

Tiraboschi, may perhaps lay claim to the praise of having been the

first among the Italian ladies, by whom the vernacular poetry was

cultivated. Ibid. p. 137.

CANTO XVII

v. 21. The bird, that most Delights itself in song.] I cannot think

with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant. Dante probably alludes

to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer’s Odyssey, b. xix.

518 rather than as later poets have told it. “She intended to slay the

son of her husband’s brother Amphion, incited to it, by the envy of his

wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through

mistake slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed

by Jupiter into a nightingale.” Cowper’s note on the passage. In

speaking of the nightingale, let me observe, that while some have

considered its song as a melancholy, and others as a cheerful one,

Chiabrera appears to have come nearest the truth, when he says, in the

Alcippo, a. l. s. 1, Non mal si stanca d’ iterar le note O gioconde o

dogliose, Al sentir dilettose.

Unwearied still reiterates her lays,

Jocund or sad, delightful to the ear.

v. 26. One crucified.] Haman. See the book of Esther, c. vii. v. 34. A

damsel.] Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief

and indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself.

Aen. 1. xii. 595.

v. 43. The broken slumber quivering ere it dies.] Venturi suggests that

this bold and unusual metaphor may have been formed on that in Virgil.

Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris

Incipit, et dono divun gratissima serpit.

Aen. 1. ii. 268.

v. 68. The peace-makers.] Matt. c. v. 9.

v. 81. The love.] “A defect in our love towards God, or lukewarmness in

piety, is here removed.”

v. 94. The primal blessings.] Spiritual good.

v. 95. Th’ inferior.] Temporal good.

v. 102. Now.] “It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself,

or to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore

only rejoice in the evil which befalls others.”

v. 111. There is.] The proud.

v. 114. There is.] The envious.

v. 117. There is he.] The resentful.

v. 135. Along Three circles.] According to the allegorical

commentators, as Venturi has observed, Reason is represented under the

person of Virgil, and Sense under that of Dante. The former leaves to

the latter to discover for itself the three carnal sins, avarice,

gluttony and libidinousness; having already declared the nature of the

spiritual sins, pride, envy, anger, and indifference, or lukewarmness

in piety, which the Italians call accidia, from the Greek word. [GREEK

HERE]

CANTO XVIII

v. 1. The teacher ended.] Compare Plato, Protagoras, v. iii. p. 123.

Bip. edit. [GREEK HERE] Apoll. Rhod. 1. i. 513, and Milton, P. L. b.

viii. 1. The angel ended, &c.

v. 23. Your apprehension.] It is literally, “Your apprehensive faculty

derives intention from a thing really existing, and displays the

intention within you, so that it makes the soul turn to it.” The

commentators labour in explaining this; and whatever sense they have

elicited may, I think, be resolved into the words of the translation in

the text.

v. 47. Spirit.] The human soul, which differs from that of brutes,

inasmuch as, though united with the body, it has a separate existence

of its own. v. 65. Three men.] The great moral philosophers among the

heathens.

v. 78. A crag.] I have preferred the reading of Landino, scheggion,

“crag,” conceiving it to be more poetical than secchion, “bucket,”

which is the common reading. The same cause, the vapours, which the

commentators say might give the appearance of increased magnitude to

the moon, might also make her seem broken at her rise.

v. 78. Up the vault.] The moon passed with a motion opposite to that of

the heavens, through the constellation of the scorpion, in which the

sun is, when to those who are in Rome he appears to set between the

isles of Corsica and Sardinia.

v. 84. Andes.] Andes, now Pietola, made more famous than Mantua near

which it is situated, by having been the birthplace of Virgil.

v. 92. Ismenus and Asopus.] Rivers near Thebes

v. 98. Mary.] Luke, c i. 39, 40

v. 99. Caesar.] See Lucan, Phars. I. iii. and iv, and Caesar de Bello

Civiii, I. i. Caesar left Brutus to complete the siege of Marseilles,

and hastened on to the attack of Afranius and Petreius, the generals of

Pompey, at Ilerda (Lerida) in Spain.

v. 118. abbot.] Alberto, abbot of San Zeno in Verona, when Frederick I

was emperor, by whom Milan was besieged and reduced to ashes.

v. 121. There is he.] Alberto della Scala, lord of Verona, who had made

his natural son abbot of San Zeno.

v. 133. First they died.] The Israelites, who, on account of their

disobedience, died before reaching the promised land.

v. 135. And they.] Virg Aen. 1. v.

CANTO XIX

v. 1. The hour.] Near the dawn.

v. 4. The geomancer.] The geomancers, says Landino, when they divined,

drew a figure consisting of sixteen marks, named from so many stars

which constitute the end of Aquarius and the beginning of Pisces. One

of these they called “the greater fortune.”

v. 7. A woman’s shape.] Worldly happiness. This allegory reminds us of

the “Choice of Hercules.”

v. 14. Love’s own hue.]

A smile that glow’d

Celestial rosy red, love’s proper hue.

Milton, P. L. b. viii. 619

—facies pulcherrima tune est

Quum porphyriaco variatur candida rubro

Quid color hic roseus sibi vult? designat amorem:

Quippe amor est igni similis; flammasque rubentes

Ignus habere solet.

Palingenii Zodiacus Vitae, 1. xii.

v. 26. A dame.] Philosophy.

v. 49. Who mourn.] Matt. c. v. 4.

v. 72. My soul.] Psalm cxix. 5

v. 97. The successor of Peter Ottobuono, of the family of Fieschi

Counts of Lavagna, died thirty-nine days after he became Pope, with the

title of Adrian V, in 1276.

v. 98. That stream.] The river Lavagna, in the Genoese territory.

v. 135. nor shall be giv’n in marriage.] Matt. c. xxii. 30. “Since in

this state we neither marry nor are given in marriage, I am no longer

the spouse of the church, and therefore no longer retain my former

dignity.

v. 140. A kinswoman.] Alagia is said to have been the wife of the

Marchese Marcello Malaspina, one of the poet’s protectors during his

exile. See Canto VIII. 133.

CANTO XX

v. 3. I drew the sponge.] “I did not persevere in my inquiries from the

spirit though still anxious to learn more.” v. 11. Wolf.] Avarice.

v. 16. Of his appearing.] He is thought to allude to Can Grande della

Scala. See Hell, Canto I. 98.

v. 25. Fabricius.] Compare Petrarch, Tr. della Fama, c. 1.

Un Curio ed un Fabricio, &c.

v. 30. Nicholas.] The story of Nicholas is, that an angel having

revealed to him that the father of a family was so impoverished as to

resolve on exposing the chastity of his three daughters to sale, he

threw in at the window of their house three bags of money, containing a

sufficient portion for each of them. v. 42. Root.] Hugh Capet, ancestor

of Philip IV. v. 46. Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power.]

These cities had lately been seized by Philip IV. The spirit is made to

imitate the approaching defeat of the French army by the Flemings, in

the battle of Courtrai, which happened in 1302. v. 51. The slaughter’s

trade.] This reflection on the birth of his ancestor induced Francis I

to forbid the reading of Dante in his dominions Hugh Capet, who came to

the throne of France in 987, was however the grandson of Robert, who

was the brother of Eudes, King of France in 888.

v. 52. All save one.] The posterity of Charlemagne, the second race of

French monarchs, had failed, with the exception of Charles of Lorraine

who is said, on account of the melancholy temper of his mind, to have

always clothed himself in black. Venturi suggest that Dante may have

confounded him with Childeric III the last of the Merosvingian, or

first, race, who was deposed and made a monk in 751.

v. 57. My son.] Hugh Capet caused his son Robert to be crowned at

Orleans.

v. 59. The Great dower of Provence.] Louis IX, and his brother Charles

of Anjou, married two of the four daughters of Raymond Berenger Count

of Provence. See Par. Canto VI. 135.

v. 63. For amends.] This is ironical

v. 64. Poitou it seiz’d, Navarre and Gascony.] I venture to read- Potti

e Navarra prese e Guascogna,

instead of

Ponti e Normandia prese e Guascogna

Seiz’d Ponthieu, Normandy and Gascogny.

Landino has “Potti,” and he is probably right for Poitou was annexed to

the French crown by Philip IV. See Henault, Abrege Chron. A.D. l283,

&c. Normandy had been united to it long before by Philip Augustus, a

circumstance of which it is difficult to imagine that Dante should have

been ignorant, but Philip IV, says Henault, ibid., took the title of

King of Navarre: and the subjugation of Navarre is also alluded to in

the Paradise, Canto XIX. 140. In 1293, Philip IV summoned Edward I. to

do him homage for the duchy of Gascogny, which he had conceived the

design of seizing. See G. Villani, l. viii. c. 4.

v. 66. Young Conradine.] Charles of Anjou put Conradine to death in

1268; and became King of Naples. See Hell, Canto XXVIII, 16, and Note.

v. 67. Th’ angelic teacher.] Thomas Aquinas. He was reported to have

been poisoned by a physician, who wished to ingratiate himself with

Charles of Anjou. G. Villani, I. ix. c. 218. We shall find him in the

Paradise, Canto X.

v. 69. Another Charles.] Charles of Valois, brother of Philip IV, was

sent by Pope Boniface VIII to settle the disturbed state of Florence.

In consequence of the measures he adopted for that purpose, our poet

and his friend, were condemned to exile and death.

v. 71. -with that lance Which the arch-traitor tilted with.]

con la lancia Con la qual giostro Guida.

If I remember right, in one of the old romances, Judas is represented

tilting with our Saviour.

v. 78. The other.] Charles, King of Naples, the eldest son of Charles

of Anjou, having, contrary to the directions of his father, engaged

with Ruggier de Lauria, the admiral of Peter of Arragon, was made

prisoner and carried into Sicily, June, 1284. He afterwards, in

consideration of a large sum of money, married his daughter to Azzo

VI11, Marquis of Ferrara.

v. 85. The flower-de-luce.] Boniface VIII was seized at Alagna in

Campagna, by order of Philip IV., in the year 1303, and soon after died

of grief. G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 63.

v. 94. Into the temple.] It is uncertain whether our Poet alludes still

to the event mentioned in the preceding Note, or to the destruction of

the order of the Templars in 1310, but the latter appears more

probable.

v. 103. Pygmalion.] Virg. Aen. 1. i. 348.

v. 107. Achan.] Joshua, c. vii.

v. 111. Heliodorus.] 2 Maccabees, c. iii. 25. “For there appeared unto

them a horse, with a terrible rider upon him, and adorned with a very

fair covering, and he ran fiercely and smote at Heliodorus with his

forefeet.”

v. 112. Thracia’s king.] Polymnestor, the murderer of Polydorus. Hell,

Canto XXX, 19.

v. 114. Crassus.] Marcus Crassus, who fell miserably in the Parthian

war. See Appian, Parthica.

CANTO XXI

v. 26. She.] Lachesis, one of the three fates.

v. 43. —that, which heaven in itself Doth of itself receive.] Venturi,

I think rightly interprets this to be light.

v. 49. Thaumantian.] Figlia di Taumante [GREEK HERE]

Compare Plato, Theaet. v. ii. p. 76. Bip. edit., Virg; Aen. ix. 5, and

Spenser, Faery Queen, b. v. c. 3. st. 25.

v. 85. The name.] The name of Poet.

v. 89. From Tolosa.] Dante, as many others have done, confounds Statius

the poet, who was a Neapolitan, with a rhetorician of the same name,

who was of Tolosa, or Thoulouse. Thus Chaucer, Temple of Fame, b. iii.

The Tholason, that height Stace.

v. 94. Fell.] Statius lived to write only a small part of the

Achilleid.

CANTO XXII

v. 5. Blessed.] Matt. v. 6.

v. 14. Aquinum’s bard.] Juvenal had celebrated his contemporary

Statius, Sat. vii. 82; though some critics imagine that there is a

secret derision couched under his praise.

v. 28. Why.] Quid non mortalia pecaora cogis Anri sacra fames? Virg.

Aen. 1. iii. 57

Venturi supposes that Dante might have mistaken the meaning of the word

sacra, and construed it “holy,” instead of “cursed.” But I see no

necessity for having recourse to so improbable a conjecture.

v. 41. The fierce encounter.] See Hell, Canto VII. 26.

v. 46. With shorn locks.] Ibid. 58.

v. 57. The twin sorrow of Jocasta’s womb.] Eteocles and Polynices

v. 71. A renovated world.] Virg. Ecl. iv. 5

v. 100. That Greek.] Homer

v. 107. Of thy train. ] Of those celebrated in thy Poem.”

v. 112. Tiresias’ daughter.] Dante appears to have forgotten that he

had placed Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, among the sorcerers. See

Hell Canto XX. Vellutello endeavours, rather awkwardly, to reconcile

the inconsistency, by observing, that although she was placed there as

a sinner, yet, as one of famous memory, she had also a place among the

worthies in Limbo.

Lombardi excuses our author better, by observing that Tiresias had a

daughter named Daphne. See Diodorus Siculus, 1. iv. 66.

v. 139. Mary took more thought.] “The blessed virgin, who answers for

yon now in heaven, when she said to Jesus, at the marriage in Cana of

Galilee, ‘they have no wine,’ regarded not the gratification of her own

taste, but the honour of the nuptial banquet.”

v. 142 The women of old Rome.] See Valerius Maximus, 1. ii. c. i.

CANTO XXIII

v. 9. My lips.] Psalm ii. 15.

v. 20. The eyes.] Compare Ovid, Metam. 1. viii. 801

v. 26. When Mary.] Josephus, De Bello Jud. 1. vii. c. xxi. p. 954 Ed

Genev. fol. 1611. The shocking story is well told

v. 27. Rings.]

In this habit

Met I my father with his bleeding rings

Their precious stones new lost.

Shakespeare, Lear, a. 5. s. 3

v. 28. Who reads the name.] “He, who pretends to distinguish the

letters which form OMO in the features of the human face, “might easily

have traced out the M on their emaciated countenances.” The temples,

nose, and forehead are supposed to represent this letter; and the eyes

the two O’s placed within each side of it.

v. 44. Forese.] One of the brothers of Piccarda, she who is again

spoken of in the next Canto, and introduced in the Paradise, Canto III.

V. 72. If the power.] “If thou didst delay thy repentance to the last,

when thou hadst lost the power of sinning, how happens it thou art

arrived here so early?”

v. 76. Lower.] In the Ante-Purgatory. See Canto II.

v. 80. My Nella.] The wife of Forese.

v. 87. The tract most barb’rous of Sardinia’s isle.] The Barbagia is

part of Sardinia, to which that name was given, on account of the

uncivilized state of its inhabitants, who are said to have gone nearly

naked.

v. 91. The’ unblushing domes of Florence.] Landino’s note exhibits a

curious instance of the changeableness of his countrywomen. He even

goes beyond the acrimony of the original. “In those days,” says the

commentator, “no less than in ours, the Florentine ladies exposed the

neck and bosom, a dress, no doubt, more suitable to a harlot than a

matron. But, as they changed soon after, insomuch that they wore

collars up to the chin, covering the whole of the neck and throat, so

have I hopes they will change again; not indeed so much from motives of

decency, as through that fickleness, which pervades every action of

their lives.”

v. 97. Saracens.] “This word, during the middle ages, was

indiscriminately applied to Pagans and Mahometans; in short, to all

nations (except the Jew’s) who did not profess Christianity.” Mr.

Ellis’s specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. i. page 196,

a note. Lond. 8vo. 1805.

CANTO XXIV

v. 20. Buonaggiunta.] Buonaggiunta Urbiciani, of Lucca. “There is a

canzone by this poet, printed in the collection made by the Giunti, (p.

209,).land a sonnet to Guido Guinicelli in that made by Corbinelli, (p

169,) from which we collect that he lived not about 1230, as Quadrio

supposes, (t. ii. p. 159,) but towards the end of the thirteenth

century. Concerning, other poems by Buonaggiunta, that are preserved in

MS. in some libraries, Crescimbeni may be consulted.” Tiraboschi, Mr.

Matthias’s ed. v. i. p. 115.

v. 23. He was of Tours.] Simon of Tours became Pope, with the title of

Martin IV in 1281 and died in 1285.

v. 29. Ubaldino.] Ubaldino degli Ubaldini, of Pila, in the Florentine

territory.

v. 30. Boniface.] Archbishop of Ravenna. By Venturi he is called

Bonifazio de Fieschi, a Genoese, by Vellutello, the son of the above,

mentioned Ubaldini and by Laudino Francioso, a Frenchman.

v. 32. The Marquis.] The Marchese de’ Rigogliosi, of Forli.

v. 38. gentucca.] Of this lady it is thought that our Poet became

enamoured during his exile. v. 45. Whose brow no wimple shades yet.]

“Who has not yet assumed the dress of a woman.”

v. 46. Blame it as they may.] See Hell, Canto XXI. 39.

v. 51. Ladies, ye that con the lore of love.]Donne ch’ avete intelletto

d’amore.The first verse of a canzone in our author’s Vita Nuova.

v. 56. The Notary.] Jucopo da Lentino, called the Notary, a poet of

these times. He was probably an Apulian: for Dante, (De Vulg. Eloq. I.

i. c 12.) quoting a verse which belongs to a canzone of his published

by the Giunti, without mentioning the writer’s name, terms him one of

“the illustrious Apulians,” praefulgentes Apuli. See Tiraboschi, Mr.

Matthias’s edit. vol. i. p. 137. Crescimbeni (1. i. Della Volg. Poes p.

72. 4to. ed. 1698) gives an extract from one of his poems, printed in

Allacci’s Collection, to show that the whimsical compositions called

“Ariette “ are not of modern invention.

v. 56. Guittone.] Fra Guittone, of Arezzo, holds a distinguished place

in Italian literature, as besides his poems printed in the collection

of the Giunti, he has left a collection of letters, forty in number,

which afford the earliest specimen of that kind of writing in the

language. They were published at Rome in 1743, with learned

illustrations by Giovanni Bottari. He was also the first who gave to

the sonnet its regular and legitimate form, a species of composition in

which not only his own countrymen, but many of the best poets in all

the cultivated languages of modern Europe, have since so much

delighted.

Guittone, a native of Arezzo, was the son of Viva di Michele. He was of

the order of the “ Frati Godenti,” of which an account may be seen in

the Notes to Hell, Canto XXIII. In the year 1293, he founded a

monastery of the order of Camaldoli, in Florence, and died in the

following year. Tiraboschi, Ibid. p. 119. Dante, in the Treatise de

Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. c. 13, and 1. ii. c. 6., blames him for preferring

the plebeian to the mor courtly style; and Petrarch twice places him in

the company of our Poet. Triumph of Love, cap. iv. and Son. Par. See

“Sennuccio mio”

v. 63. The birds.] Hell, Canto V. 46, Euripides, Helena, 1495, and

Statius; Theb. 1. V. 12. v. 81. He.] Corso Donati was suspected of

aiming at the sovereignty of Florence. To escape the fury of his fellow

citizens, he fled away on horseback, but failing, was overtaken and

slain, A.D. 1308. The contemporary annalist, after relating at length

the circumstances of his fate, adds, “that he was one of the wisest and

most valorous knights the best speaker, the most expert statesman, the

most renowned and enterprising, man of his age in Italy, a comely

knight and of graceful carriage, but very worldly, and in his time had

formed many conspiracies in Florence and entered into many scandalous

practices, for the sake of attaining state and lordship.” G. Villani,

1. viii. c. 96. The character of Corso is forcibly drawn by another of

his contemporaries Dino Compagni. 1. iii., Muratori, Rer. Ital. Script.

t. ix. p. 523.

v. 129. Creatures of the clouds.] The Centaurs. Ovid. Met. 1. fab. 4 v.

123. The Hebrews.] Judges, c. vii.

CANTO XXV

v. 58. As sea-sponge.] The fetus is in this stage is zoophyte.

v. 66. -More wise Than thou, has erred.] Averroes is said to be here

meant. Venturi refers to his commentary on Aristotle, De Anim 1. iii.

c. 5. for the opinion that there is only one universal intellect or

mind pervading every individual of the human race. Much of the

knowledge displayed by our Poet in the present Canto appears to have

been derived from the medical work o+ Averroes, called the Colliget.

Lib. ii. f. 10. Ven. 1400. fol.

v. 79. Mark the sun’s heat.] Redi and Tiraboschi (Mr. Matthias’s ed. v.

ii. p. 36.) have considered this an anticipation of a profound

discovery of Galileo’s in natural philosophy, but it is in reality

taken from a passage in Cicero “de Senectute,” where, speaking of the

grape, he says, “ quae, et succo terrae et calore solis augescens,

primo est peracerba gustatu, deinde maturata dulcescit.”

v. 123. I do, not know a man.] Luke, c. i. 34.

v. 126. Callisto.] See Ovid, Met. 1. ii. fab. 5.

CANTO XXVI

v. 70. Caesar.] For the opprobrium east on Caesar’s effeminacy, see

Suetonius, Julius Caesar, c. 49.

v. 83. Guinicelli.] See Note to Canto XI. 96.

v. 87. lycurgus.] Statius, Theb. 1. iv. and v. Hypsipile had left her

infant charge, the son of Lycurgus, on a bank, where it was destroyed

by a serpent, when she went to show the Argive army the river of

Langia: and, on her escaping the effects of Lycurgus’s resentment, the

joy her own children felt at the sight of her was such as our Poet felt

on beholding his predecessor Guinicelli.

The incidents are beautifully described in Statius, and seem to have

made an impression on Dante, for he again (Canto XXII. 110.)

characterizes Hypsipile, as her- Who show’d Langia’s wave.

v. 111. He.] The united testimony of Dante, and of Petrarch, in his

Triumph of Love, e. iv. places Arnault Daniel at the head of the

Provencal poets. That he was born of poor but noble parents, at the

castle of Ribeyrae in Perigord, and that he was at the English court,

is the amount of Millot’s information concerning him (t. ii. p. 479).

The account there given of his writings is not much more satisfactory,

and the criticism on them must go for little better than nothing.

It is to be regretted that we have not an opportunity of judging for

ourselves of his “love ditties and his tales of prose “

Versi d’amore e prose di romanzi.

Our Poet frequently cities him in the work De Vulgari Eloquentia.

According to Crescimbeni, (Della Volg. Poes. 1. 1. p. 7. ed. 1698.) He

died in 1189.

v. 113. The songster of Limoges.] Giraud de Borneil, of Sideuil, a

castle in Limoges. He was a troubadour, much admired and caressed in

his day, and appears to have been in favour with the monarchs of

Castile, Leon, Navarre, and Arragon He is quoted by Dante, De Vulg.

Eloq., and many of his poems are still remaining in MS. According to

Nostradamus he died in 1278. Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troub. t. ii. p. 1

and 23. But I suspect that there is some error in this date, and that

he did not live to see so late a period.

v. 118. Guittone.] See Cano XXIV. 56.

v. 123. Far as needs.] See Canto XI. 23.

v. 132. Thy courtesy.] Arnault is here made to speak in his own tongue,

the Provencal. According to Dante, (De Vulg. Eloq. 1. 1. c. 8.) the

Provencal was one language with the Spanish. What he says on this

subject is so curious, that the reader will perhaps not be displeased

it I give an abstract of it.

He first makes three great divisions of the European languages. “One of

these extends from the mouths of the Danube, or the lake of Maeotis, to

the western limits of England, and is bounded by the limits of the

French and Italians, and by the ocean. One idiom obtained over the

whole of this space: but was afterwards subdivided into, the

Sclavonian, Hungarian, Teutonic, Saxon, English, and the vernacular

tongues of several other people, one sign remaining to all, that they

use the affirmative io, (our English ay.) The whole of Europe,

beginning from the Hungarian limits and stretching towards the east,

has a second idiom which reaches still further than the end of Europe

into Asia. This is the Greek. In all that remains of Europe, there is a

third idiom subdivided into three dialects, which may be severally

distinguished by the use of the affirmatives, oc, oil, and si; the

first spoken by the Spaniards, the next by the French, and the third by

the Latins (or Italians). The first occupy the western part of southern

Europe, beginning from the limits of the Genoese. The third occupy the

eastern part from the said limits, as far, that is, as the promontory

of Italy, where the Adriatic sea begins, and to Sicily. The second are

in a manner northern with respect to these for they have the Germans to

the east and north, on the west they are bounded by the English sea,

and the mountains of Arragon, and on the south by the people of

Provence and the declivity of the Apennine.” Ibid. c. x. “Each of these

three,” he observes, “has its own claims to distinction The excellency

of the French language consists in its being best adapted, on account

of its facility and agreeableness, to prose narration, (quicquid

redactum, sive inventum est ad vulgare prosaicum suum est); and he

instances the books compiled on the gests of the Trojans and Romans and

the delightful adventures of King Arthur, with many other histories and

works of instruction. The Spanish (or Provencal) may boast of its

having produced such as first cultivated in this as in a more perfect

and sweet language, the vernacular poetry: among whom are Pierre

d’Auvergne, and others more ancient. The privileges of the Latin, or

Italian are two: first that it may reckon for its own those writers who

have adopted a more sweet and subtle style of poetry, in the number of

whom are Cino, da Pistoia and his friend, and the next, that its

writers seem to adhere to, certain general rules of grammar, and in so

doing give it, in the opinion of the intelligent, a very weighty

pretension to preference.”

CANTO XXVII

v. 1. The sun.] At Jerusalem it was dawn, in Spain midnight, and in

India noonday, while it was sunset in Purgatory

v. 10. Blessed.] Matt. c. v. 8.

v. 57. Come.] Matt. c. xxv. 34.

v. 102. I am Leah.] By Leah is understood the active life, as Rachel

figures the contemplative. The divinity is the mirror in which the

latter looks. Michel Angelo has made these allegorical personages the

subject of two statues on the monument of Julius II. in the church of

S. Pietro in Vincolo. See Mr. Duppa’s Life of Michel Angelo, Sculpture

viii. And x. and p 247.

v. 135. Those bright eyes.] The eyes of Beatrice.

CANTO XXVIII

v. 11. To that part.] The west.

v. 14. The feather’d quiristers] Imitated by Boccaccio, Fiammetta, 1.

iv. “Odi i queruli uccelli,” &c. —“Hear the querulous birds plaining

with sweet songs, and the boughs trembling, and, moved by a gentle

wind, as it were keeping tenor to their notes.”

v. 7. A pleasant air.] Compare Ariosto, O. F. c. xxxiv. st. 50.

v. Chiassi.] This is the wood where the scene of Boccaccio’s sublimest

story is laid. See Dec. g. 5. n. 8. and Dryden’s Theodore and Honoria

Our Poet perhaps wandered in it daring his abode with Guido Novello da

Polenta.

v. 41. A lady.] Most of the commentators suppose, that by this lady,

who in the last Canto is called Matilda, is to be understood the

Countess Matilda, who endowed the holy see with the estates called the

Patrimony of St. Peter, and died in 1115. See G. Villani, 1. iv. e. 20

But it seems more probable that she should be intended for an

allegorical personage.

v. 80. Thou, Lord hast made me glad.] Psalm xcii. 4

v. 146. On the Parnassian mountain.] In bicipiti somniasse Parnasso.

Persius Prol.

CANTO XXIX

v. 76. Listed colours.]

Di sette liste tutte in quel colori, &c.

—a bow

Conspicuous with three listed colours gay.

Milton, P. L. b. xi. 865.

v. 79. Ten paces.] For an explanation of the allegorical meaning of

this mysterious procession, Venturi refers those “who would see in the

dark” to the commentaries of Landino, Vellutello, and others: and adds

that it is evident the Poet has accommodated to his own fancy many

sacred images in the Apocalypse. In Vasari’s Life of Giotto, we learn

that Dante recommended that book to his friend, as affording fit

subjects for his pencil.

v. 89. Four.] The four evangelists.

v. 96. Ezekiel.] Chap. 1. 4.

v. 101. John.] Rev. c. iv. 8.

v. 104. Gryphon.] Under the Gryphon, an imaginary creature, the

forepart of which is an eagle, and the hinder a lion, is shadowed forth

the union of the divine and human nature in Jesus Christ. The car is

the church.

v. 115. Tellus’ prayer.] Ovid, Met. 1. ii. v. 279.

v. 116. Three nymphs.] The three evangelical virtues: the first

Charity, the next Hope, and the third Faith. Faith may be produced by

charity, or charity by faith, but the inducements to hope must arise

either from one or other of these.

v. 125. A band quaternion.] The four moral or cardinal virtues, of whom

Prudence directs the others.

v. 129. Two old men.] Saint Luke, characterized as the writer of the

Arts of the Apostles and Saint Paul.

v. 133. Of the great Coan.] Hippocrates, “whom nature made for the

benefit of her favourite creature, man.”

v. 138. Four others.] “The commentators,” says Venturi; “suppose these

four to be the four evangelists, but I should rather take them to be

four principal doctors of the church.” Yet both Landino and Vellutello

expressly call them the authors of the epistles, James, Peter, John and

Jude.

v. 140. One single old man.] As some say, St. John, under his character

of the author of the Apocalypse. But in the poem attributed to Giacopo,

the son of our Poet, which in some MSS, accompanies the original of

this work, and is descriptive of its plan, this old man is said to be

Moses.

E’l vecchio, ch’ era dietro a tutti loro

Fu Moyse.

And the old man, who was behind them all,

Was Moses.

See No. 3459 of the Harl. MSS. in the British Museum.

CANTO XXX

v. 1. The polar light.] The seven candlesticks.

v. 12. Come.] Song of Solomon, c. iv. 8.

v. 19. Blessed.] Matt. c. xxi. 9.

v. 20. From full hands.] Virg. Aen 1. vi. 884.

v. 97. The old flame.] Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae Virg. Aen. I.

I. 23.

Conosco i segni dell’ antico fuoco.

Giusto de’ Conti, La Bella Mano.

v. 61. Nor.] “Not all the beauties of the terrestrial Paradise; in

which I was, were sufficient to allay my grief.”

v. 85. But.] They sang the thirty-first Psalm, to the end of the eighth

verse.

v. 87. The living rafters.] The leafless woods on the Apennine.

v. 90. The land whereon no shadow falls.] “When the wind blows, from

off Africa, where, at the time of the equinox, bodies being under the

equator cast little or no shadow; or, in other words, when the wind is

south.”

v. 98. The ice.] Milton has transferred this conceit, though scarcely

worth the pains of removing, into one of his Italian poems, son.

CANTO XXXI

v. 3. With lateral edge.] The words of Beatrice, when not addressed

directly to himself, but speaking to the angel of hell, Dante had

thought sufficiently harsh.

v. 39. Counter to the edge.] “The weapons of divine justice are blunted

by the confession and sorrow of the offender.”

v. 58. Bird.] Prov. c. i. 17

v. 69. From Iarbas’ land.] The south.

v. 71. The beard.] “I perceived, that when she desired me to raise my

beard, instead of telling me to lift up my head, a severe reflection

was implied on my want of that wisdom which should accompany the age of

manhood.”

v. 98. Tu asperges me.] A prayer repeated by the priest at sprinkling

the holy water.

v. 106. And in the heaven are stars.] See Canto I. 24.

v. 116. The emeralds.] The eyes of Beatrice.

CANTO XXXII

v. 2. Their ten years’ thirst.] Beatrice had been dead ten years.

v. 9. Two fix’d a gaze.] The allegorical interpretation of Vellutello

whether it be considered as justly terrible from the text or not,

conveys so useful a lesson, that it deserves our notice. “The

understanding is sometimes so intently engaged in contemplating the

light of divine truth in the scriptures, that it becomes dazzled, and

is made less capable of attaining such knowledge, than if it had sought

after it with greater moderation”

v. 39. Its tresses.] Daniel, c. iv. 10, &c.

v. 41. The Indians.]

Quos oceano proprior gerit India lucos.

Virg. Georg. 1. ii. 122,

Such as at this day to Indians known.

Milton, P. L. b. ix. 1102.

v. 51. When large floods of radiance.] When the sun enters into Aries,

the constellation next to that of the Fish.

v. 63. Th’ unpitying eyes.] See Ovid, Met. 1. i. 689.

v. 74. The blossoming of that fair tree.] Our Saviour’s

transfiguration.

v. 97. Those lights.] The tapers of gold.

v. 101. That true Rome.] Heaven.

v. 110. The bird of Jove.] This, which is imitated from Ezekiel, c.

xvii. 3, 4. appears to be typical of the persecutions which the church

sustained from the Roman Emperors.

v. 118. A fox.] By the fox perhaps is represented the treachery of the

heretics.

v. 124. With his feathers lin’d.]. An allusion to the donations made by

the Roman Emperors to the church.

v. 130. A dragon.] Probably Mahomet.

v. 136. With plumes.] The donations before mentioned.

v. 142. Heads.] By the seven heads, it is supposed with sufficient

probability, are meant the seven capital sins, by the three with two

horns, pride, anger, and avarice, injurious both to man himself and to

his neighbor: by the four with one horn, gluttony, lukewarmness,

concupiscence, and envy, hurtful, at least in their primary effects,

chiefly to him who is guilty of them.

v. 146. O’er it.] The harlot is thought to represent the state of the

church under Boniface VIII and the giant to figure Philip IV of France.

v. 155. Dragg’d on.] The removal of the Pope’s residence from Rome to

Avignon is pointed at.

CANTO XXXIII

v. 1. The Heathen.] Psalm lxxix. 1.

v. 36. Hope not to scare God’s vengeance with a sop.] “Let not him who

hath occasioned the destruction of the church, that vessel which the

serpent brake, hope to appease the anger of the Deity by any outward

acts of religious, or rather superstitious, ceremony, such as was that,

in our poet’s time, performed by a murderer at Florence, who imagined

himself secure from vengeance, if he ate a sop of bread in wine, upon

the grave of the person murdered, within the space of nine days.”

v. 38. That eagle.] He prognosticates that the Emperor of Germany will

not always continue to submit to the usurpations of the Pope, and

foretells the coming of Henry VII Duke of Luxembourg signified by the

numerical figures DVX; or, as Lombardi supposes, of Can Grande della

Scala, appointed the leader of the Ghibelline forces. It is unnecessary

to point out the imitation of the Apocalypse in the manner of this

prophecy.

v. 50. The Naiads.] Dante, it is observed, has been led into a mistake

by a corruption in the text of Ovid’s Metam. I. vii. 75, where he

found- Carmina Naiades non intellecta priorum;

instead of Carmina Laiades, &c. as it has been since corrected.

Lombardi refers to Pansanias, where “the Nymphs” are spoken of as

expounders of oracles for a vindication of the poet’s accuracy. Should

the reader blame me for not departing from the error of the original

(if error it be), he may substitute

Events shall be the Oedipus will solve, &c.

v. 67. Elsa’s numbing waters.] The Elsa, a little stream, which flows

into the Arno about twenty miles below Florence, is said to possess a

petrifying quality.

v. 78. That one brings home his staff inwreath’d with palm.] “For the

same cause that the pilgrim, returning from Palestine, brings home his

staff, or bourdon, bound with palm,” that is, to show where he has

been.

Che si reca ’I bordon di palma cinto.

“In regard to the word bourdon, why it has been applied to a pilgrim’s

staff, it is not easy to guess. I believe, however that this name has

been given to such sort of staves, because pilgrims usually travel and

perform their pilgrimages on foot, their staves serving them instead of

horses or mules, then called bourdons and burdones, by writers in the

middle ages.” Mr. Johnes’s Translation of Joinville’s Memoirs.

Dissertation xv, by M. du Cange p. 152. 4to. edit. The word is thrice

used by Chaucer in the Romaunt of the Rose.

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, ’tis 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 ’tis 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,

‘I 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, ’twas 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 ’tis 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,

’Twould 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 ’twill 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 enswath’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, ’tis 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.