Part 4

“Think now of one, who were a fit colleague, To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea Helm’d to right point; and such our Patriarch was. Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins, Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in. But hunger of new viands tempts his flock, So that they needs into strange pastures wide Must spread them: and the more remote from him The stragglers wander, so much mole they come Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk. There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm, And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few, A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.

“Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta’en Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill’d: For thou wilt see the point from whence they split, Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies, ‘That well they thrive not sworn with vanity.’”

## CANTO XII

Soon as its final word the blessed flame Had rais’d for utterance, straight the holy mill Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv’d, Or ere another, circling, compass’d it, Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining, Song, that as much our muses doth excel, Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.

As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth, Two arches parallel, and trick’d alike, Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth From that within (in manner of that voice Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist), And they who gaze, presageful call to mind The compact, made with Noah, of the world No more to be o’erflow’d; about us thus Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath’d Those garlands twain, and to the innermost E’en thus th’ external answered. When the footing, And other great festivity, of song, And radiance, light with light accordant, each Jocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still’d (E’en as the eyes by quick volition mov’d, Are shut and rais’d together), from the heart Of one amongst the new lights mov’d a voice, That made me seem like needle to the star, In turning to its whereabout, and thus Began: “The love, that makes me beautiful, Prompts me to tell of th’ other guide, for whom Such good of mine is spoken. Where one is, The other worthily should also be; That as their warfare was alike, alike Should be their glory. Slow, and full of doubt, And with thin ranks, after its banner mov’d The army of Christ (which it so clearly cost To reappoint), when its imperial Head, Who reigneth ever, for the drooping host Did make provision, thorough grace alone, And not through its deserving. As thou heard’st, Two champions to the succour of his spouse He sent, who by their deeds and words might join Again his scatter’d people. In that clime, Where springs the pleasant west-wind to unfold The fresh leaves, with which Europe sees herself New-garmented; nor from those billows far, Beyond whose chiding, after weary course, The sun doth sometimes hide him, safe abides The happy Callaroga, under guard Of the great shield, wherein the lion lies Subjected and supreme. And there was born The loving million of the Christian faith, The hollow’d wrestler, gentle to his own, And to his enemies terrible. So replete His soul with lively virtue, that when first Created, even in the mother’s womb, It prophesied. When, at the sacred font, The spousals were complete ’twixt faith and him, Where pledge of mutual safety was exchang’d, The dame, who was his surety, in her sleep Beheld the wondrous fruit, that was from him And from his heirs to issue. And that such He might be construed, as indeed he was, She was inspir’d to name him of his owner, Whose he was wholly, and so call’d him Dominic. And I speak of him, as the labourer, Whom Christ in his own garden chose to be His help-mate. Messenger he seem’d, and friend Fast-knit to Christ; and the first love he show’d, Was after the first counsel that Christ gave. Many a time his nurse, at entering found That he had ris’n in silence, and was prostrate, As who should say, “My errand was for this.” O happy father! Felix rightly nam’d! O favour’d mother! rightly nam’d Joanna! If that do mean, as men interpret it. Not for the world’s sake, for which now they pore Upon Ostiense and Taddeo’s page, But for the real manna, soon he grew Mighty in learning, and did set himself To go about the vineyard, that soon turns To wan and wither’d, if not tended well: And from the see (whose bounty to the just And needy is gone by, not through its fault, But his who fills it basely, he besought, No dispensation for commuted wrong, Nor the first vacant fortune, nor the tenth), That to God’s paupers rightly appertain, But, ’gainst an erring and degenerate world, Licence to fight, in favour of that seed, From which the twice twelve cions gird thee round. Then, with sage doctrine and good will to help, Forth on his great apostleship he far’d, Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein; And, dashing ’gainst the stocks of heresy, Smote fiercest, where resistance was most stout. Thence many rivulets have since been turn’d, Over the garden Catholic to lead Their living waters, and have fed its plants.

“If such one wheel of that two-yoked car, Wherein the holy church defended her, And rode triumphant through the civil broil. Thou canst not doubt its fellow’s excellence, Which Thomas, ere my coming, hath declar’d So courteously unto thee. But the track, Which its smooth fellies made, is now deserted: That mouldy mother is where late were lees. His family, that wont to trace his path, Turn backward, and invert their steps; erelong To rue the gathering in of their ill crop, When the rejected tares in vain shall ask Admittance to the barn. I question not But he, who search’d our volume, leaf by leaf, Might still find page with this inscription on’t, ‘I am as I was wont.’ Yet such were not From Acquasparta nor Casale, whence Of those, who come to meddle with the text, One stretches and another cramps its rule. Bonaventura’s life in me behold, From Bagnororegio, one, who in discharge Of my great offices still laid aside All sinister aim. Illuminato here, And Agostino join me: two they were, Among the first of those barefooted meek ones, Who sought God’s friendship in the cord: with them Hugues of Saint Victor, Pietro Mangiadore, And he of Spain in his twelve volumes shining, Nathan the prophet, Metropolitan Chrysostom, and Anselmo, and, who deign’d To put his hand to the first art, Donatus. Raban is here: and at my side there shines Calabria’s abbot, Joachim, endow’d With soul prophetic. The bright courtesy Of friar Thomas, and his goodly lore, Have mov’d me to the blazon of a peer So worthy, and with me have mov’d this throng.”

## CANTO XIII

Let him, who would conceive what now I saw, Imagine (and retain the image firm, As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak), Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal host Selected, that, with lively ray serene, O’ercome the massiest air: thereto imagine The wain, that, in the bosom of our sky, Spins ever on its axle night and day, With the bright summit of that horn which swells Due from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls, T’ have rang’d themselves in fashion of two signs In heav’n, such as Ariadne made, When death’s chill seized her; and that one of them Did compass in the other’s beam; and both In such sort whirl around, that each should tend With opposite motion and, conceiving thus, Of that true constellation, and the dance Twofold, that circled me, he shall attain As ’t were the shadow; for things there as much Surpass our usage, as the swiftest heav’n Is swifter than the Chiana. There was sung No Bacchus, and no Io Paean, but Three Persons in the Godhead, and in one Substance that nature and the human join’d.

The song fulfill’d its measure; and to us Those saintly lights attended, happier made At each new minist’ring. Then silence brake, Amid th’ accordant sons of Deity, That luminary, in which the wondrous life Of the meek man of God was told to me; And thus it spake: “One ear o’ th’ harvest thresh’d, And its grain safely stor’d, sweet charity Invites me with the other to like toil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

## CANTO XIV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

## CANTO XV

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

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

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

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

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