Part 23

“Thou know’st, that in the bosom, whence the rib Was ta’en to fashion that fair cheek, whose taste All the world pays for, and in that, which pierc’d By the keen lance, both after and before Such satisfaction offer’d, as outweighs Each evil in the scale, whate’er of light To human nature is allow’d, must all Have by his virtue been infus’d, who form’d Both one and other: and thou thence admir’st In that I told thee, of beatitudes A second, there is none, to his enclos’d In the fifth radiance. Open now thine eyes To what I answer thee; and thou shalt see Thy deeming and my saying meet in truth, As centre in the round. That which dies not, And that which can die, are but each the beam Of that idea, which our Soverign Sire Engendereth loving; for that lively light, Which passeth from his brightness; not disjoin’d From him, nor from his love triune with them, Doth, through his bounty, congregate itself, Mirror’d, as ’t were in new existences, Itself unalterable and ever one.

“Descending hence unto the lowest powers, Its energy so sinks, at last it makes But brief contingencies: for so I name Things generated, which the heav’nly orbs Moving, with seed or without seed, produce. Their wax, and that which molds it, differ much: And thence with lustre, more or less, it shows Th’ ideal stamp impress: so that one tree According to his kind, hath better fruit, And worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men, Are in your talents various. Were the wax Molded with nice exactness, and the heav’n In its disposing influence supreme, The lustre of the seal should be complete: But nature renders it imperfect ever, Resembling thus the artist in her work, Whose faultering hand is faithless to his skill. Howe’er, if love itself dispose, and mark The primal virtue, kindling with bright view, There all perfection is vouchsafed; and such The clay was made, accomplish’d with each gift, That life can teem with; such the burden fill’d The virgin’s bosom: so that I commend Thy judgment, that the human nature ne’er Was or can be, such as in them it was.

“Did I advance no further than this point, ‘How then had he no peer?’ thou might’st reply. But, that what now appears not, may appear Right plainly, ponder, who he was, and what (When he was bidden ‘Ask’), the motive sway’d To his requesting. I have spoken thus, That thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask’d For wisdom, to the end he might be king Sufficient: not the number to search out Of the celestial movers; or to know, If necessary with contingent e’er Have made necessity; or whether that Be granted, that first motion is; or if Of the mid circle can, by art, be made Triangle with each corner, blunt or sharp.

“Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this, Thou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn, At which the dart of my intention aims. And, marking clearly, that I told thee, ‘Risen,’ Thou shalt discern it only hath respect To kings, of whom are many, and the good Are rare. With this distinction take my words; And they may well consist with that which thou Of the first human father dost believe, And of our well-beloved. And let this Henceforth be led unto thy feet, to make Thee slow in motion, as a weary man, Both to the ‘yea’ and to the ‘nay’ thou seest not. For he among the fools is down full low, Whose affirmation, or denial, is Without distinction, in each case alike Since it befalls, that in most instances Current opinion leads to false: and then Affection bends the judgment to her ply.

“Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore, Since he returns not such as he set forth, Who fishes for the truth and wanteth skill. And open proofs of this unto the world Have been afforded in Parmenides, Melissus, Bryso, and the crowd beside, Who journey’d on, and knew not whither: so did Sabellius, Arius, and the other fools, Who, like to scymitars, reflected back The scripture-image, by distortion marr’d.

“Let not the people be too swift to judge, As one who reckons on the blades in field, Or ere the crop be ripe. For I have seen The thorn frown rudely all the winter long And after bear the rose upon its top; And bark, that all the way across the sea Ran straight and speedy, perish at the last, E’en in the haven’s mouth seeing one steal, Another brine, his offering to the priest, Let not Dame Birtha and Sir Martin thence Into heav’n’s counsels deem that they can pry: For one of these may rise, the other fall.”

## CANTO XIV

From centre to the circle, and so back From circle to the centre, water moves In the round chalice, even as the blow Impels it, inwardly, or from without. Such was the image glanc’d into my mind, As the great spirit of Aquinum ceas’d; And Beatrice after him her words Resum’d alternate: “Need there is (tho’ yet He tells it to you not in words, nor e’en In thought) that he should fathom to its depth Another mystery. Tell him, if the light, Wherewith your substance blooms, shall stay with you Eternally, as now: and, if it doth, How, when ye shall regain your visible forms, The sight may without harm endure the change, That also tell.” As those, who in a ring Tread the light measure, in their fitful mirth Raise loud the voice, and spring with gladder bound; Thus, at the hearing of that pious suit, The saintly circles in their tourneying And wond’rous note attested new delight.

Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live Immortally above, he hath not seen The sweet refreshing, of that heav’nly shower.

Him, who lives ever, and for ever reigns In mystic union of the Three in One, Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice Sang, with such melody, as but to hear For highest merit were an ample meed. And from the lesser orb the goodliest light, With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps The angel’s once to Mary, thus replied: “Long as the joy of Paradise shall last, Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright, As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest; And that as far in blessedness exceeding, As it hath grave beyond its virtue great. Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire, Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase, Whate’er of light, gratuitous, imparts The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid, The better disclose his glory: whence The vision needs increasing, much increase The fervour, which it kindles; and that too The ray, that comes from it. But as the greed Which gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shines More lively than that, and so preserves Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere Of splendour, shall to view less radiant seem, Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth Now covers. Nor will such excess of light O’erpower us, in corporeal organs made Firm, and susceptible of all delight.”

So ready and so cordial an “Amen,” Followed from either choir, as plainly spoke Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear, Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lov’d, Ere they were made imperishable flame.

And lo! forthwith there rose up round about A lustre over that already there, Of equal clearness, like the brightening up Of the horizon. As at an evening hour Of twilight, new appearances through heav’n Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried; So there new substances, methought began To rise in view; and round the other twain Enwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.

O gentle glitter of eternal beam! With what a such whiteness did it flow, O’erpowering vision in me! But so fair, So passing lovely, Beatrice show’d, Mind cannot follow it, nor words express Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regain’d Power to look up, and I beheld myself, Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss Translated: for the star, with warmer smile Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.

With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks The same in all, an holocaust I made To God, befitting the new grace vouchsaf’d. And from my bosom had not yet upsteam’d The fuming of that incense, when I knew The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen And mantling crimson, in two listed rays The splendours shot before me, that I cried, “God of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!”

As leads the galaxy from pole to pole, Distinguish’d into greater lights and less, Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell; So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars, Those rays describ’d the venerable sign, That quadrants in the round conjoining frame. Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ Beam’d on that cross; and pattern fails me now. But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ Will pardon me for that I leave untold, When in the flecker’d dawning he shall spy The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn, And ’tween the summit and the base did move Lights, scintillating, as they met and pass’d. Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance, Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, The atomies of bodies, long or short, To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line Checkers the shadow, interpos’d by art Against the noontide heat. And as the chime Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and help With many strings, a pleasant dining makes To him, who heareth not distinct the note; So from the lights, which there appear’d to me, Gather’d along the cross a melody, That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment Possess’d me. Yet I mark’d it was a hymn Of lofty praises; for there came to me “Arise and conquer,” as to one who hears And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy O’ercame, that never till that hour was thing That held me in so sweet imprisonment.

Perhaps my saying over bold appears, Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes, Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire. But he, who is aware those living seals Of every beauty work with quicker force, The higher they are ris’n; and that there I had not turn’d me to them; he may well Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse I do accuse me, and may own my truth; That holy pleasure here not yet reveal’d, Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.

## CANTO XV

True love, that ever shows itself as clear In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still’d The sacred chords, that are by heav’n’s right hand Unwound and tighten’d, flow to righteous prayers Should they not hearken, who, to give me will For praying, in accordance thus were mute? He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief, Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, Despoils himself forever of that love.

As oft along the still and pure serene, At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire, Attracting with involuntary heed The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest, And seems some star that shifted place in heav’n, Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost, And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn, That on the dexter of the cross extends, Down to its foot, one luminary ran From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem Dropp’d from its foil; and through the beamy list Like flame in alabaster, glow’d its course.

So forward stretch’d him (if of credence aught Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost Of old Anchises, in the’ Elysian bower, When he perceiv’d his son. “O thou, my blood! O most exceeding grace divine! to whom, As now to thee, hath twice the heav’nly gate Been e’er unclos’d?” so spake the light; whence I Turn’d me toward him; then unto my dame My sight directed, and on either side Amazement waited me; for in her eyes Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine Had div’d unto the bottom of my grace And of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith To hearing and to sight grateful alike, The spirit to his proem added things I understood not, so profound he spake; Yet not of choice but through necessity Mysterious; for his high conception scar’d Beyond the mark of mortals. When the flight Of holy transport had so spent its rage, That nearer to the level of our thought The speech descended, the first sounds I heard Were, “Best he thou, Triunal Deity! That hast such favour in my seed vouchsaf’d!” Then follow’d: “No unpleasant thirst, tho’ long, Which took me reading in the sacred book, Whose leaves or white or dusky never change, Thou hast allay’d, my son, within this light, From whence my voice thou hear’st; more thanks to her. Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes Begirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me From him transmitted, who is first of all, E’en as all numbers ray from unity; And therefore dost not ask me who I am, Or why to thee more joyous I appear, Than any other in this gladsome throng. The truth is as thou deem’st; for in this hue Both less and greater in that mirror look, In which thy thoughts, or ere thou think’st, are shown. But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever, Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire, May be contended fully, let thy voice, Fearless, and frank and jocund, utter forth Thy will distinctly, utter forth the wish, Whereto my ready answer stands decreed.”

I turn’d me to Beatrice; and she heard Ere I had spoken, smiling, an assent, That to my will gave wings; and I began “To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn’d The nature, in whom naught unequal dwells, Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt; For that they are so equal in the sun, From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat, As makes all likeness scant. But will and means, In mortals, for the cause ye well discern, With unlike wings are fledge. A mortal I Experience inequality like this, And therefore give no thanks, but in the heart, For thy paternal greeting. This howe’er I pray thee, living topaz! that ingemm’st This precious jewel, let me hear thy name.”

“I am thy root, O leaf! whom to expect Even, hath pleas’d me:” thus the prompt reply Prefacing, next it added: “he, of whom Thy kindred appellation comes, and who, These hundred years and more, on its first ledge Hath circuited the mountain, was my son And thy great grandsire. Well befits, his long Endurance should be shorten’d by thy deeds.

“Florence, within her ancient limit-mark, Which calls her still to matin prayers and noon, Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace. She had no armlets and no head-tires then, No purfled dames, no zone, that caught the eye More than the person did. Time was not yet, When at his daughter’s birth the sire grew pale. For fear the age and dowry should exceed On each side just proportion. House was none Void of its family; nor yet had come Hardanapalus, to exhibit feats Of chamber prowess. Montemalo yet O’er our suburban turret rose; as much To be surpass in fall, as in its rising. I saw Bellincione Berti walk abroad In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone; And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks, His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw Of Nerli and of Vecchio well content With unrob’d jerkin; and their good dames handling The spindle and the flax; O happy they! Each sure of burial in her native land, And none left desolate a-bed for France! One wak’d to tend the cradle, hushing it With sounds that lull’d the parent’s infancy: Another, with her maidens, drawing off The tresses from the distaff, lectur’d them Old tales of Troy and Fesole and Rome. A Salterello and Cianghella we Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would A Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.

“In such compos’d and seemly fellowship, Such faithful and such fair equality, In so sweet household, Mary at my birth Bestow’d me, call’d on with loud cries; and there In your old baptistery, I was made Christian at once and Cacciaguida; as were My brethren, Eliseo and Moronto.

“From Valdipado came to me my spouse, And hence thy surname grew. I follow’d then The Emperor Conrad; and his knighthood he Did gird on me; in such good part he took My valiant service. After him I went To testify against that evil law, Whose people, by the shepherd’s fault, possess Your right, usurping. There, by that foul crew Was I releas’d from the deceitful world, Whose base affection many a spirit soils, And from the martyrdom came to this peace.”

## CANTO XVI

O slight respect of man’s nobility! I never shall account it marvelous, That our infirm affection here below Thou mov’st to boasting, when I could not choose, E’en in that region of unwarp’d desire, In heav’n itself, but make my vaunt in thee! Yet cloak thou art soon shorten’d, for that time, Unless thou be eked out from day to day, Goes round thee with his shears. Resuming then With greeting such, as Rome, was first to bear, But since hath disaccustom’d I began; And Beatrice, that a little space Was sever’d, smil’d reminding me of her, Whose cough embolden’d (as the story holds) To first offence the doubting Guenever.

“You are my sire,” said I, “you give me heart Freely to speak my thought: above myself You raise me. Through so many streams with joy My soul is fill’d, that gladness wells from it; So that it bears the mighty tide, and bursts not Say then, my honour’d stem! what ancestors Where those you sprang from, and what years were mark’d In your first childhood? Tell me of the fold, That hath Saint John for guardian, what was then Its state, and who in it were highest seated?”

As embers, at the breathing of the wind, Their flame enliven, so that light I saw Shine at my blandishments; and, as it grew More fair to look on, so with voice more sweet, Yet not in this our modern phrase, forthwith It answer’d: “From the day, when it was said ‘Hail Virgin!’ to the throes, by which my mother, Who now is sainted, lighten’d her of me Whom she was heavy with, this fire had come, Five hundred fifty times and thrice, its beams To reilumine underneath the foot Of its own lion. They, of whom I sprang, And I, had there our birth-place, where the last

## Partition of our city first is reach’d

By him, that runs her annual game. Thus much Suffice of my forefathers: who they were, And whence they hither came, more honourable It is to pass in silence than to tell. All those, who in that time were there from Mars Until the Baptist, fit to carry arms, Were but the fifth of them this day alive. But then the citizen’s blood, that now is mix’d From Campi and Certaldo and Fighine, Ran purely through the last mechanic’s veins. O how much better were it, that these people Were neighbours to you, and that at Galluzzo And at Trespiano, ye should have your bound’ry, Than to have them within, and bear the stench Of Aguglione’s hind, and Signa’s, him, That hath his eye already keen for bart’ring! Had not the people, which of all the world Degenerates most, been stepdame unto Caesar, But, as a mother, gracious to her son; Such one, as hath become a Florentine, And trades and traffics, had been turn’d adrift To Simifonte, where his grandsire ply’d The beggar’s craft. The Conti were possess’d Of Montemurlo still: the Cerchi still Were in Acone’s parish; nor had haply From Valdigrieve past the Buondelmonte. The city’s malady hath ever source In the confusion of its persons, as The body’s, in variety of food: And the blind bull falls with a steeper plunge, Than the blind lamb; and oftentimes one sword Doth more and better execution, Than five. Mark Luni, Urbisaglia mark, How they are gone, and after them how go Chiusi and Sinigaglia; and ’t will seem No longer new or strange to thee to hear, That families fail, when cities have their end. All things, that appertain t’ ye, like yourselves, Are mortal: but mortality in some Ye mark not, they endure so long, and you Pass by so suddenly. And as the moon Doth, by the rolling of her heav’nly sphere, Hide and reveal the strand unceasingly; So fortune deals with Florence. Hence admire not At what of them I tell thee, whose renown Time covers, the first Florentines. I saw The Ughi, Catilini and Filippi, The Alberichi, Greci and Ormanni, Now in their wane, illustrious citizens: And great as ancient, of Sannella him, With him of Arca saw, and Soldanieri And Ardinghi, and Bostichi. At the poop, That now is laden with new felony, So cumb’rous it may speedily sink the bark, The Ravignani sat, of whom is sprung The County Guido, and whoso hath since His title from the fam’d Bellincione ta’en. Fair governance was yet an art well priz’d By him of Pressa: Galigaio show’d The gilded hilt and pommel, in his house. The column, cloth’d with verrey, still was seen Unshaken: the Sacchetti still were great, Giouchi, Sifanti, Galli and Barucci, With them who blush to hear the bushel nam’d. Of the Calfucci still the branchy trunk Was in its strength: and to the curule chairs Sizii and Arigucci yet were drawn. How mighty them I saw, whom since their pride Hath undone! and in all her goodly deeds Florence was by the bullets of bright gold O’erflourish’d. Such the sires of those, who now, As surely as your church is vacant, flock Into her consistory, and at leisure There stall them and grow fat. The o’erweening brood, That plays the dragon after him that flees, But unto such, as turn and show the tooth, Ay or the purse, is gentle as a lamb, Was on its rise, but yet so slight esteem’d, That Ubertino of Donati grudg’d His father-in-law should yoke him to its tribe. Already Caponsacco had descended Into the mart from Fesole: and Giuda And Infangato were good citizens. A thing incredible I tell, tho’ true: The gateway, named from those of Pera, led Into the narrow circuit of your walls. Each one, who bears the sightly quarterings Of the great Baron (he whose name and worth The festival of Thomas still revives) His knighthood and his privilege retain’d; Albeit one, who borders them With gold, This day is mingled with the common herd. In Borgo yet the Gualterotti dwelt, And Importuni: well for its repose Had it still lack’d of newer neighbourhood. The house, from whence your tears have had their spring, Through the just anger that hath murder’d ye And put a period to your gladsome days, Was honour’d, it, and those consorted with it. O Buondelmonte! what ill counseling Prevail’d on thee to break the plighted bond Many, who now are weeping, would rejoice, Had God to Ema giv’n thee, the first time Thou near our city cam’st. But so was doom’d: On that maim’d stone set up to guard the bridge, At thy last peace, the victim, Florence! fell. With these and others like to them, I saw Florence in such assur’d tranquility, She had no cause at which to grieve: with these Saw her so glorious and so just, that ne’er The lily from the lance had hung reverse, Or through division been with vermeil dyed.”