The Divine Comedy

The glory of Him who moveth everything
    Doth penetrate the universe, and shine
    In one part more and in another less.

Within that heaven which most his light receives
    Was I, and things beheld which to repeat
    Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;

Because in drawing near to its desire
    Our intellect ingulphs itself so far,
    That after it the memory cannot go.

Truly whatever of the holy realm
    I had the power to treasure in my mind
    Shall now become the subject of my song.

O good Apollo, for this last emprise
    Make of me such a vessel of thy power
    As giving the beloved laurel asks!

One summit of Parnassus hitherto
    Has been enough for me, but now with both
    I needs must enter the arena left.

Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe
    As at the time when Marsyas thou didst draw
    Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his.

O power divine, lend’st thou thyself to me
    So that the shadow of the blessed realm
    Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,

Thou’lt see me come unto thy darling tree,
    And crown myself thereafter with those leaves
    Of which the theme and thou shall make me worthy.

So seldom, Father, do we gather them
    For triumph or of Caesar or of Poet,
    (The fault and shame of human inclinations,)

That the Peneian foliage should bring forth
    Joy to the joyous Delphic deity,
    When any one it makes to thirst for it.

A little spark is followed by great flame;
    Perchance with better voices after me
    Shall prayer be made that Cyrrha may respond!

To mortal men by passages diverse
    Uprises the world’s lamp; but by that one
    Which circles four uniteth with three crosses,

With better course and with a better star
    Conjoined it issues, and the mundane wax
    Tempers and stamps more after its own fashion.

Almost that passage had made morning there
    And evening here, and there was wholly white
    That hemisphere, and black the other part,

When Beatrice towards the left-hand side
    I saw turned round, and gazing at the sun;
    Never did eagle fasten so upon it!

And even as a second ray is wont
    To issue from the first and reascend,
    Like to a pilgrim who would fain return,

Thus of her action, through the eyes infused
    In my imagination, mine I made,
    And sunward fixed mine eyes beyond our wont.

There much is lawful which is here unlawful
    Unto our powers, by virtue of the place
    Made for the human species as its own.

Not long I bore it, nor so little while
    But I beheld it sparkle round about
    Like iron that comes molten from the fire;

And suddenly it seemed that day to day
    Was added, as if He who has the power
    Had with another sun the heaven adorned.

With eyes upon the everlasting wheels
    Stood Beatrice all intent, and I, on her
    Fixing my vision from above removed,

Such at her aspect inwardly became
    As Glaucus, tasting of the herb that made him
    Peer of the other gods beneath the sea.

To represent transhumanise in words
    Impossible were; the example, then, suffice
    Him for whom Grace the experience reserves.

If I was merely what of me thou newly
    Createdst, Love who governest the heaven,
    Thou knowest, who didst lift me with thy light!

When now the wheel, which thou dost make eternal
    Desiring thee, made me attentive to it
    By harmony thou dost modulate and measure,

Then seemed to me so much of heaven enkindled
    By the sun’s flame, that neither rain nor river
    E’er made a lake so widely spread abroad.

The newness of the sound and the great light
    Kindled in me a longing for their cause,
    Never before with such acuteness felt;

Whence she, who saw me as I saw myself,
    To quiet in me my perturbed mind,
    Opened her mouth, ere I did mine to ask,

And she began: “Thou makest thyself so dull
    With false imagining, that thou seest not
    What thou wouldst see if thou hadst shaken it off.

Thou art not upon earth, as thou believest;
    But lightning, fleeing its appropriate site,
    Ne’er ran as thou, who thitherward returnest.”

If of my former doubt I was divested
    By these brief little words more smiled than spoken,
    I in a new one was the more ensnared;

And said: “Already did I rest content
    From great amazement; but am now amazed
    In what way I transcend these bodies light.”

Whereupon she, after a pitying sigh,
    Her eyes directed tow’rds me with that look
    A mother casts on a delirious child;

And she began: “All things whate’er they be
    Have order among themselves, and this is form,
    That makes the universe resemble God.

Here do the higher creatures see the footprints
    Of the Eternal Power, which is the end
    Whereto is made the law already mentioned.

In the order that I speak of are inclined
    All natures, by their destinies diverse,
    More or less near unto their origin;

Hence they move onward unto ports diverse
    O’er the great sea of being; and each one
    With instinct given it which bears it on.

This bears away the fire towards the moon;
    This is in mortal hearts the motive power
    This binds together and unites the earth.

Nor only the created things that are
    Without intelligence this bow shoots forth,
    But those that have both intellect and love.

The Providence that regulates all this
    Makes with its light the heaven forever quiet,
    Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste.

And thither now, as to a site decreed,
    Bears us away the virtue of that cord
    Which aims its arrows at a joyous mark.

True is it, that as oftentimes the form
    Accords not with the intention of the art,
    Because in answering is matter deaf,

So likewise from this course doth deviate
    Sometimes the creature, who the power possesses,
    Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way,

(In the same wise as one may see the fire
    Fall from a cloud,) if the first impetus
    Earthward is wrested by some false delight.

Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge,
    At thine ascent, than at a rivulet
    From some high mount descending to the lowland.

Marvel it would be in thee, if deprived
    Of hindrance, thou wert seated down below,
    As if on earth the living fire were quiet.”

Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.

O Ye, who in some pretty little boat,
    Eager to listen, have been following
    Behind my ship, that singing sails along,

Turn back to look again upon your shores;
    Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure,
    In losing me, you might yourselves be lost.

The sea I sail has never yet been passed;
    Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo,
    And Muses nine point out to me the Bears.

Ye other few who have the neck uplifted
    Betimes to th’ bread of Angels upon which
    One liveth here and grows not sated by it,

Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea
    Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you
    Upon the water that grows smooth again.

Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed
    Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be,
    When Jason they beheld a ploughman made!

The con-created and perpetual thirst
    For the realm deiform did bear us on,
    As swift almost as ye the heavens behold.

Upward gazed Beatrice, and I at her;
    And in such space perchance as strikes a bolt
    And flies, and from the notch unlocks itself,

Arrived I saw me where a wondrous thing
    Drew to itself my sight; and therefore she
    From whom no care of mine could be concealed,

Towards me turning, blithe as beautiful,
    Said unto me: “Fix gratefully thy mind
    On God, who unto the first star has brought us.”

It seemed to me a cloud encompassed us,
    Luminous, dense, consolidate and bright
    As adamant on which the sun is striking.

Into itself did the eternal pearl
    Receive us, even as water doth receive
    A ray of light, remaining still unbroken.

If I was body, (and we here conceive not
    How one dimension tolerates another,
    Which needs must be if body enter body,)

More the desire should be enkindled in us
    That essence to behold, wherein is seen
    How God and our own nature were united.

There will be seen what we receive by faith,
    Not demonstrated, but self-evident
    In guise of the first truth that man believes.

I made reply: “Madonna, as devoutly
    As most I can do I give thanks to Him
    Who has removed me from the mortal world.

But tell me what the dusky spots may be
    Upon this body, which below on earth
    Make people tell that fabulous tale of Cain?”

Somewhat she smiled; and then, “If the opinion
    Of mortals be erroneous,” she said,
    “Where’er the key of sense doth not unlock,

Certes, the shafts of wonder should not pierce thee
    Now, forasmuch as, following the senses,
    Thou seest that the reason has short wings.

But tell me what thou think’st of it thyself.”
    And I: “What seems to us up here diverse,
    Is caused, I think, by bodies rare and dense.”

And she: “Right truly shalt thou see immersed
    In error thy belief, if well thou hearest
    The argument that I shall make against it.

Lights many the eighth sphere displays to you
    Which in their quality and quantity
    May noted be of aspects different.

If this were caused by rare and dense alone,
    One only virtue would there be in all
    Or more or less diffused, or equally.

Virtues diverse must be perforce the fruits
    Of formal principles; and these, save one,
    Of course would by thy reasoning be destroyed.

Besides, if rarity were of this dimness
    The cause thou askest, either through and through
    This planet thus attenuate were of matter,

Or else, as in a body is apportioned
    The fat and lean, so in like manner this
    Would in its volume interchange the leaves.

Were it the former, in the sun’s eclipse
    It would be manifest by the shining through
    Of light, as through aught tenuous interfused.

This is not so; hence we must scan the other,
    And if it chance the other I demolish,
    Then falsified will thy opinion be.

But if this rarity go not through and through,
    There needs must be a limit, beyond which
    Its contrary prevents the further passing,

And thence the foreign radiance is reflected,
    Even as a colour cometh back from glass,
    The which behind itself concealeth lead.

Now thou wilt say the sunbeam shows itself
    More dimly there than in the other parts,
    By being there reflected farther back.

From this reply experiment will free thee
    If e’er thou try it, which is wont to be
    The fountain to the rivers of your arts.

Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove
    Alike from thee, the other more remote
    Between the former two shall meet thine eyes.

Turned towards these, cause that behind thy back
    Be placed a light, illuming the three mirrors
    And coming back to thee by all reflected.

Though in its quantity be not so ample
    The image most remote, there shalt thou see
    How it perforce is equally resplendent.

Now, as beneath the touches of warm rays
    Naked the subject of the snow remains
    Both of its former colour and its cold,

Thee thus remaining in thy intellect,
    Will I inform with such a living light,
    That it shall tremble in its aspect to thee.

Within the heaven of the divine repose
    Revolves a body, in whose virtue lies
    The being of whatever it contains.

The following heaven, that has so many eyes,
    Divides this being by essences diverse,
    Distinguished from it, and by it contained.

The other spheres, by various differences,
    All the distinctions which they have within them
    Dispose unto their ends and their effects.

Thus do these organs of the world proceed,
    As thou perceivest now, from grade to grade;
    Since from above they take, and act beneath.

Observe me well, how through this place I come
    Unto the truth thou wishest, that hereafter
    Thou mayst alone know how to keep the ford

The power and motion of the holy spheres,
    As from the artisan the hammer’s craft,
    Forth from the blessed motors must proceed.

The heaven, which lights so manifold make fair,
    From the Intelligence profound, which turns it,
    The image takes, and makes of it a seal.

And even as the soul within your dust
    Through members different and accommodated
    To faculties diverse expands itself,

So likewise this Intelligence diffuses
    Its virtue multiplied among the stars.
    Itself revolving on its unity.

Virtue diverse doth a diverse alloyage
    Make with the precious body that it quickens,
    In which, as life in you, it is combined.

From the glad nature whence it is derived,
    The mingled virtue through the body shines,
    Even as gladness through the living pupil.

From this proceeds whate’er from light to light
    Appeareth different, not from dense and rare:
    This is the formal principle that produces,

According to its goodness, dark and bright.”

That Sun, which erst with love my bosom warmed,
    Of beauteous truth had unto me discovered,
    By proving and reproving, the sweet aspect.

And, that I might confess myself convinced
    And confident, so far as was befitting,
    I lifted more erect my head to speak.

But there appeared a vision, which withdrew me
    So close to it, in order to be seen,
    That my confession I remembered not.

Such as through polished and transparent glass,
    Or waters crystalline and undisturbed,
    But not so deep as that their bed be lost,

Come back again the outlines of our faces
    So feeble, that a pearl on forehead white
    Comes not less speedily unto our eyes;

Such saw I many faces prompt to speak,
    So that I ran in error opposite
    To that which kindled love ’twixt man and fountain.

As soon as I became aware of them,
    Esteeming them as mirrored semblances,
    To see of whom they were, mine eyes I turned,

And nothing saw, and once more turned them forward
    Direct into the light of my sweet Guide,
    Who smiling kindled in her holy eyes.

“Marvel thou not,” she said to me, “because
    I smile at this thy puerile conceit,
    Since on the truth it trusts not yet its foot,

But turns thee, as ’tis wont, on emptiness.
    True substances are these which thou beholdest,
    Here relegate for breaking of some vow.

Therefore speak with them, listen and believe;
    For the true light, which giveth peace to them,
    Permits them not to turn from it their feet.”

And I unto the shade that seemed most wishful
    To speak directed me, and I began,
    As one whom too great eagerness bewilders:

“O well-created spirit, who in the rays
    Of life eternal dost the sweetness taste
    Which being untasted ne’er is comprehended,

Grateful ’twill be to me, if thou content me
    Both with thy name and with your destiny.”
    Whereat she promptly and with laughing eyes:

“Our charity doth never shut the doors
    Against a just desire, except as one
    Who wills that all her court be like herself.

I was a virgin sister in the world;
    And if thy mind doth contemplate me well,
    The being more fair will not conceal me from thee,

But thou shalt recognise I am Piccarda,
    Who, stationed here among these other blessed,
    Myself am blessed in the slowest sphere.

All our affections, that alone inflamed
    Are in the pleasure of the Holy Ghost,
    Rejoice at being of his order formed;

And this allotment, which appears so low,
    Therefore is given us, because our vows
    Have been neglected and in some part void.”

Whence I to her: “In your miraculous aspects
    There shines I know not what of the divine,
    Which doth transform you from our first conceptions.

Therefore I was not swift in my remembrance;
    But what thou tellest me now aids me so,
    That the refiguring is easier to me.

But tell me, ye who in this place are happy,
    Are you desirous of a higher place,
    To see more or to make yourselves more friends?”

First with those other shades she smiled a little;
    Thereafter answered me so full of gladness,
    She seemed to burn in the first fire of love:

“Brother, our will is quieted by virtue
    Of charity, that makes us wish alone
    For what we have, nor gives us thirst for more.

If to be more exalted we aspired,
    Discordant would our aspirations be
    Unto the will of Him who here secludes us;

Which thou shalt see finds no place in these circles,
    If being in charity is needful here,
    And if thou lookest well into its nature;

Nay, ’tis essential to this blest existence
    To keep itself within the will divine,
    Whereby our very wishes are made one;

So that, as we are station above station
    Throughout this realm, to all the realm ’tis pleasing,
    As to the King, who makes his will our will.

And his will is our peace; this is the sea
    To which is moving onward whatsoever
    It doth create, and all that nature makes.”

Then it was clear to me how everywhere
    In heaven is Paradise, although the grace
    Of good supreme there rain not in one measure.

But as it comes to pass, if one food sates,
    And for another still remains the longing,
    We ask for this, and that decline with thanks,

E’en thus did I; with gesture and with word,
    To learn from her what was the web wherein
    She did not ply the shuttle to the end.

“A perfect life and merit high in-heaven
    A lady o’er us,” said she, “by whose rule
    Down in your world they vest and veil themselves,

That until death they may both watch and sleep
    Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts
    Which charity conformeth to his pleasure.

To follow her, in girlhood from the world
    I fled, and in her habit shut myself,
    And pledged me to the pathway of her sect.

Then men accustomed unto evil more
    Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me;
    God knows what afterward my life became.

This other splendour, which to thee reveals
    Itself on my right side, and is enkindled
    With all the illumination of our sphere,

What of myself I say applies to her;
    A nun was she, and likewise from her head
    Was ta’en the shadow of the sacred wimple.

But when she too was to the world returned
    Against her wishes and against good usage,
    Of the heart’s veil she never was divested.

Of great Costanza this is the effulgence,
    Who from the second wind of Suabia
    Brought forth the third and latest puissance.”

Thus unto me she spake, and then began
    “Ave Maria” singing, and in singing
    Vanished, as through deep water something heavy.

My sight, that followed her as long a time
    As it was possible, when it had lost her
    Turned round unto the mark of more desire,

And wholly unto Beatrice reverted;
    But she such lightnings flashed into mine eyes,
    That at the first my sight endured it not;

And this in questioning more backward made me.

Between two viands, equally removed
    And tempting, a free man would die of hunger
    Ere either he could bring unto his teeth.

So would a lamb between the ravenings
    Of two fierce wolves stand fearing both alike;
    And so would stand a dog between two does.

Hence, if I held my peace, myself I blame not,
    Impelled in equal measure by my doubts,
    Since it must be so, nor do I commend.

I held my peace; but my desire was painted
    Upon my face, and questioning with that
    More fervent far than by articulate speech.

Beatrice did as Daniel had done
    Relieving Nebuchadnezzar from the wrath
    Which rendered him unjustly merciless,

And said: “Well see I how attracteth thee
    One and the other wish, so that thy care
    Binds itself so that forth it does not breathe.

Thou arguest, if good will be permanent,
    The violence of others, for what reason
    Doth it decrease the measure of my merit?

Again for doubting furnish thee occasion
    Souls seeming to return unto the stars,
    According to the sentiment of Plato.

These are the questions which upon thy wish
    Are thrusting equally; and therefore first
    Will I treat that which hath the most of gall.

He of the Seraphim most absorbed in God,
    Moses, and Samuel, and whichever John
    Thou mayst select, I say, and even Mary,

Have not in any other heaven their seats,
    Than have those spirits that just appeared to thee,
    Nor of existence more or fewer years;

But all make beautiful the primal circle,
    And have sweet life in different degrees,
    By feeling more or less the eternal breath.

They showed themselves here, not because allotted
    This sphere has been to them, but to give sign
    Of the celestial which is least exalted.

To speak thus is adapted to your mind,
    Since only through the sense it apprehendeth
    What then it worthy makes of intellect.

On this account the Scripture condescends
    Unto your faculties, and feet and hands
    To God attributes, and means something else;

And Holy Church under an aspect human
    Gabriel and Michael represent to you,
    And him who made Tobias whole again.

That which Timaeus argues of the soul
    Doth not resemble that which here is seen,
    Because it seems that as he speaks he thinks.

He says the soul unto its star returns,
    Believing it to have been severed thence
    Whenever nature gave it as a form.

Perhaps his doctrine is of other guise
    Than the words sound, and possibly may be
    With meaning that is not to be derided.

If he doth mean that to these wheels return
    The honour of their influence and the blame,
    Perhaps his bow doth hit upon some truth.

This principle ill understood once warped
    The whole world nearly, till it went astray
    Invoking Jove and Mercury and Mars.

The other doubt which doth disquiet thee
    Less venom has, for its malevolence
    Could never lead thee otherwhere from me.

That as unjust our justice should appear
    In eyes of mortals, is an argument
    Of faith, and not of sin heretical.

But still, that your perception may be able
    To thoroughly penetrate this verity,
    As thou desirest, I will satisfy thee.

If it be violence when he who suffers
    Co-operates not with him who uses force,
    These souls were not on that account excused;

For will is never quenched unless it will,
    But operates as nature doth in fire
    If violence a thousand times distort it.

Hence, if it yieldeth more or less, it seconds
    The force; and these have done so, having power
    Of turning back unto the holy place.

If their will had been perfect, like to that
    Which Lawrence fast upon his gridiron held,
    And Mutius made severe to his own hand,

It would have urged them back along the road
    Whence they were dragged, as soon as they were free;
    But such a solid will is all too rare.

And by these words, if thou hast gathered them
    As thou shouldst do, the argument is refuted
    That would have still annoyed thee many times.

But now another passage runs across
    Before thine eyes, and such that by thyself
    Thou couldst not thread it ere thou wouldst be weary.

I have for certain put into thy mind
    That soul beatified could never lie,
    For it is near the primal Truth,

And then thou from Piccarda might’st have heard
    Costanza kept affection for the veil,
    So that she seemeth here to contradict me.

Many times, brother, has it come to pass,
    That, to escape from peril, with reluctance
    That has been done it was not right to do,

E’en as Alcmaeon (who, being by his father
    Thereto entreated, his own mother slew)
    Not to lose pity pitiless became.

At this point I desire thee to remember
    That force with will commingles, and they cause
    That the offences cannot be excused.

Will absolute consenteth not to evil;
    But in so far consenteth as it fears,
    If it refrain, to fall into more harm.

Hence when Piccarda uses this expression,
    She meaneth the will absolute, and I
    The other, so that both of us speak truth.”

Such was the flowing of the holy river
    That issued from the fount whence springs all truth;
    This put to rest my wishes one and all.

“O love of the first lover, O divine,”
    Said I forthwith, “whose speech inundates me
    And warms me so, it more and more revives me,

My own affection is not so profound
    As to suffice in rendering grace for grace;
    Let Him, who sees and can, thereto respond.

Well I perceive that never sated is
    Our intellect unless the Truth illume it,
    Beyond which nothing true expands itself.

It rests therein, as wild beast in his lair,
    When it attains it; and it can attain it;
    If not, then each desire would frustrate be.

Therefore springs up, in fashion of a shoot,
    Doubt at the foot of truth; and this is nature,
    Which to the top from height to height impels us.

This doth invite me, this assurance give me
    With reverence, Lady, to inquire of you
    Another truth, which is obscure to me.

I wish to know if man can satisfy you
    For broken vows with other good deeds, so
    That in your balance they will not be light.”

Beatrice gazed upon me with her eyes
    Full of the sparks of love, and so divine,
    That, overcome my power, I turned my back

And almost lost myself with eyes downcast.

“If in the heat of love I flame upon thee
    Beyond the measure that on earth is seen,
    So that the valour of thine eyes I vanquish,

Marvel thou not thereat; for this proceeds
    From perfect sight, which as it apprehends
    To the good apprehended moves its feet.

Well I perceive how is already shining
    Into thine intellect the eternal light,
    That only seen enkindles always love;

And if some other thing your love seduce,
    ’Tis nothing but a vestige of the same,
    Ill understood, which there is shining through.

Thou fain wouldst know if with another service
    For broken vow can such return be made
    As to secure the soul from further claim.”

This Canto thus did Beatrice begin;
    And, as a man who breaks not off his speech,
    Continued thus her holy argument:

“The greatest gift that in his largess God
    Creating made, and unto his own goodness
    Nearest conformed, and that which he doth prize

Most highly, is the freedom of the will,
    Wherewith the creatures of intelligence
    Both all and only were and are endowed.

Now wilt thou see, if thence thou reasonest,
    The high worth of a vow, if it he made
    So that when thou consentest God consents:

For, closing between God and man the compact,
    A sacrifice is of this treasure made,
    Such as I say, and made by its own act.

What can be rendered then as compensation?
    Think’st thou to make good use of what thou’st offered,
    With gains ill gotten thou wouldst do good deed.

Now art thou certain of the greater point;
    But because Holy Church in this dispenses,
    Which seems against the truth which I have shown thee,

Behoves thee still to sit awhile at table,
    Because the solid food which thou hast taken
    Requireth further aid for thy digestion.

Open thy mind to that which I reveal,
    And fix it there within; for ’tis not knowledge,
    The having heard without retaining it.

In the essence of this sacrifice two things
    Convene together; and the one is that
    Of which ’tis made, the other is the agreement.

This last for evermore is cancelled not
    Unless complied with, and concerning this
    With such precision has above been spoken.

Therefore it was enjoined upon the Hebrews
    To offer still, though sometimes what was offered
    Might be commuted, as thou ought’st to know.

The other, which is known to thee as matter,
    May well indeed be such that one errs not
    If it for other matter be exchanged.

But let none shift the burden on his shoulder
    At his arbitrament, without the turning
    Both of the white and of the yellow key;

And every permutation deem as foolish,
    If in the substitute the thing relinquished,
    As the four is in six, be not contained.

Therefore whatever thing has so great weight
    In value that it drags down every balance,
    Cannot be satisfied with other spending.

Let mortals never take a vow in jest;
    Be faithful and not blind in doing that,
    As Jephthah was in his first offering,

Whom more beseemed to say, ‘I have done wrong,
    Than to do worse by keeping; and as foolish
    Thou the great leader of the Greeks wilt find,

Whence wept Iphigenia her fair face,
    And made for her both wise and simple weep,
    Who heard such kind of worship spoken of.’

Christians, be ye more serious in your movements;
    Be ye not like a feather at each wind,
    And think not every water washes you.

Ye have the Old and the New Testament,
    And the Pastor of the Church who guideth you
    Let this suffice you unto your salvation.

If evil appetite cry aught else to you,
    Be ye as men, and not as silly sheep,
    So that the Jew among you may not mock you.

Be ye not as the lamb that doth abandon
    Its mother’s milk, and frolicsome and simple
    Combats at its own pleasure with itself.”

Thus Beatrice to me even as I write it;
    Then all desireful turned herself again
    To that part where the world is most alive.

Her silence and her change of countenance
    Silence imposed upon my eager mind,
    That had already in advance new questions;

And as an arrow that upon the mark
    Strikes ere the bowstring quiet hath become,
    So did we speed into the second realm.

My Lady there so joyful I beheld,
    As into the brightness of that heaven she entered,
    More luminous thereat the planet grew;

And if the star itself was changed and smiled,
    What became I, who by my nature am
    Exceeding mutable in every guise!

As, in a fish-pond which is pure and tranquil,
    The fishes draw to that which from without
    Comes in such fashion that their food they deem it;

So I beheld more than a thousand splendours
    Drawing towards us, and in each was heard:
    “Lo, this is she who shall increase our love.”

And as each one was coming unto us,
    Full of beatitude the shade was seen,
    By the effulgence clear that issued from it.

Think, Reader, if what here is just beginning
    No farther should proceed, how thou wouldst have
    An agonizing need of knowing more;

And of thyself thou’lt see how I from these
    Was in desire of hearing their conditions,
    As they unto mine eyes were manifest.

“O thou well-born, unto whom Grace concedes
    To see the thrones of the eternal triumph,
    Or ever yet the warfare be abandoned

With light that through the whole of heaven is spread
    Kindled are we, and hence if thou desirest
    To know of us, at thine own pleasure sate thee.”

Thus by some one among those holy spirits
    Was spoken, and by Beatrice: “Speak, speak
    Securely, and believe them even as Gods.”

“Well I perceive how thou dost nest thyself
    In thine own light, and drawest it from thine eyes,
    Because they coruscate when thou dost smile,

But know not who thou art, nor why thou hast,
    Spirit august, thy station in the sphere
    That veils itself to men in alien rays.”

This said I in direction of the light
    Which first had spoken to me; whence it became
    By far more lucent than it was before.

Even as the sun, that doth conceal himself
    By too much light, when heat has worn away
    The tempering influence of the vapours dense,

By greater rapture thus concealed itself
    In its own radiance the figure saintly,
    And thus close, close enfolded answered me

In fashion as the following Canto sings.

“After that Constantine the eagle turned
    Against the course of heaven, which it had followed
    Behind the ancient who Lavinia took,

Two hundred years and more the bird of God
    In the extreme of Europe held itself,
    Near to the mountains whence it issued first;

And under shadow of the sacred plumes
    It governed there the world from hand to hand,
    And, changing thus, upon mine own alighted.

Caesar I was, and am Justinian,
    Who, by the will of primal Love I feel,
    Took from the laws the useless and redundant;

And ere unto the work I was attent,
    One nature to exist in Christ, not more,
    Believed, and with such faith was I contented.

But blessed Agapetus, he who was
    The supreme pastor, to the faith sincere
    Pointed me out the way by words of his.

Him I believed, and what was his assertion
    I now see clearly, even as thou seest
    Each contradiction to be false and true.

As soon as with the Church I moved my feet,
    God in his grace it pleased with this high task
    To inspire me, and I gave me wholly to it,

And to my Belisarius I commended
    The arms, to which was heaven’s right hand so joined
    It was a signal that I should repose.

Now here to the first question terminates
    My answer; but the character thereof
    Constrains me to continue with a sequel,

In order that thou see with how great reason
    Men move against the standard sacrosanct,
    Both who appropriate and who oppose it.

Behold how great a power has made it worthy
    Of reverence, beginning from the hour
    When Pallas died to give it sovereignty.

Thou knowest it made in Alba its abode
    Three hundred years and upward, till at last
    The three to three fought for it yet again.

Thou knowest what it achieved from Sabine wrong
    Down to Lucretia’s sorrow, in seven kings
    O’ercoming round about the neighboring nations;

Thou knowest what it achieved, borne by the Romans
    Illustrious against Brennus, against Pyrrhus,
    Against the other princes and confederates.

Torquatus thence and Quinctius, who from locks
    Unkempt was named, Decii and Fabii,
    Received the fame I willingly embalm;

It struck to earth the pride of the Arabians,
    Who, following Hannibal, had passed across
    The Alpine ridges, Po, from which thou glidest;

Beneath it triumphed while they yet were young
    Pompey and Scipio, and to the hill
    Beneath which thou wast born it bitter seemed;

Then, near unto the time when heaven had willed
    To bring the whole world to its mood serene,
    Did Caesar by the will of Rome assume it.

What it achieved from Var unto the Rhine,
    Isere beheld and Saone, beheld the Seine,
    And every valley whence the Rhone is filled;

What it achieved when it had left Ravenna,
    And leaped the Rubicon, was such a flight
    That neither tongue nor pen could follow it.

Round towards Spain it wheeled its legions; then
    Towards Durazzo, and Pharsalia smote
    That to the calid Nile was felt the pain.

Antandros and the Simois, whence it started,
    It saw again, and there where Hector lies,
    And ill for Ptolemy then roused itself.

From thence it came like lightning upon Juba;
    Then wheeled itself again into your West,
    Where the Pompeian clarion it heard.

From what it wrought with the next standard-bearer
    Brutus and Cassius howl in Hell together,
    And Modena and Perugia dolent were;

Still doth the mournful Cleopatra weep
    Because thereof, who, fleeing from before it,
    Took from the adder sudden and black death.

With him it ran even to the Red Sea shore;
    With him it placed the world in so great peace,
    That unto Janus was his temple closed.

But what the standard that has made me speak
    Achieved before, and after should achieve
    Throughout the mortal realm that lies beneath it,

Becometh in appearance mean and dim,
    If in the hand of the third Caesar seen
    With eye unclouded and affection pure,

Because the living Justice that inspires me
    Granted it, in the hand of him I speak of,
    The glory of doing vengeance for its wrath.

Now here attend to what I answer thee;
    Later it ran with Titus to do vengeance
    Upon the vengeance of the ancient sin.

And when the tooth of Lombardy had bitten
    The Holy Church, then underneath its wings
    Did Charlemagne victorious succor her.

Now hast thou power to judge of such as those
    Whom I accused above, and of their crimes,
    Which are the cause of all your miseries.

To the public standard one the yellow lilies
    Opposes, the other claims it for a party,
    So that ’tis hard to see which sins the most.

Let, let the Ghibellines ply their handicraft
    Beneath some other standard; for this ever
    Ill follows he who it and justice parts.

And let not this new Charles e’er strike it down,
    He and his Guelfs, but let him fear the talons
    That from a nobler lion stripped the fell.

Already oftentimes the sons have wept
    The father’s crime; and let him not believe
    That God will change His scutcheon for the lilies.

This little planet doth adorn itself
    With the good spirits that have active been,
    That fame and honour might come after them;

And whensoever the desires mount thither,
    Thus deviating, must perforce the rays
    Of the true love less vividly mount upward.

But in commensuration of our wages
    With our desert is portion of our joy,
    Because we see them neither less nor greater.

Herein doth living Justice sweeten so
    Affection in us, that for evermore
    It cannot warp to any iniquity.

Voices diverse make up sweet melodies;
    So in this life of ours the seats diverse
    Render sweet harmony among these spheres;

And in the compass of this present pearl
    Shineth the sheen of Romeo, of whom
    The grand and beauteous work was ill rewarded.

But the Provencals who against him wrought,
    They have not laughed, and therefore ill goes he
    Who makes his hurt of the good deeds of others.

Four daughters, and each one of them a queen,
    Had Raymond Berenger, and this for him
    Did Romeo, a poor man and a pilgrim;

And then malicious words incited him
    To summon to a reckoning this just man,
    Who rendered to him seven and five for ten.

Then he departed poor and stricken in years,
    And if the world could know the heart he had,
    In begging bit by bit his livelihood,

Though much it laud him, it would laud him more.”

“Osanna sanctus Deus Sabaoth,
    Superillustrans claritate tua
    Felices ignes horum malahoth!”

In this wise, to his melody returning,
    This substance, upon which a double light
    Doubles itself, was seen by me to sing,

And to their dance this and the others moved,
    And in the manner of swift-hurrying sparks
    Veiled themselves from me with a sudden distance.

Doubting was I, and saying, “Tell her, tell her,”
    Within me, “tell her,” saying, “tell my Lady,”
    Who slakes my thirst with her sweet effluences;

And yet that reverence which doth lord it over
    The whole of me only by B and ICE,
    Bowed me again like unto one who drowses.

Short while did Beatrice endure me thus;
    And she began, lighting me with a smile
    Such as would make one happy in the fire:

“According to infallible advisement,
    After what manner a just vengeance justly
    Could be avenged has put thee upon thinking,

But I will speedily thy mind unloose;
    And do thou listen, for these words of mine
    Of a great doctrine will a present make thee.

By not enduring on the power that wills
    Curb for his good, that man who ne’er was born,
    Damning himself damned all his progeny;

Whereby the human species down below
    Lay sick for many centuries in great error,
    Till to descend it pleased the Word of God

To where the nature, which from its own Maker
    Estranged itself, he joined to him in person
    By the sole act of his eternal love.

Now unto what is said direct thy sight;
    This nature when united to its Maker,
    Such as created, was sincere and good;

But by itself alone was banished forth
    From Paradise, because it turned aside
    Out of the way of truth and of its life.

Therefore the penalty the cross held out,
    If measured by the nature thus assumed,
    None ever yet with so great justice stung,

And none was ever of so great injustice,
    Considering who the Person was that suffered,
    Within whom such a nature was contracted.

From one act therefore issued things diverse;
    To God and to the Jews one death was pleasing;
    Earth trembled at it and the Heaven was opened.

It should no longer now seem difficult
    To thee, when it is said that a just vengeance
    By a just court was afterward avenged.

But now do I behold thy mind entangled
    From thought to thought within a knot, from which
    With great desire it waits to free itself.

Thou sayest, ‘Well discern I what I hear;
    But it is hidden from me why God willed
    For our redemption only this one mode.’

Buried remaineth, brother, this decree
    Unto the eyes of every one whose nature
    Is in the flame of love not yet adult.

Verily, inasmuch as at this mark
    One gazes long and little is discerned,
    Wherefore this mode was worthiest will I say.

Goodness Divine, which from itself doth spurn
    All envy, burning in itself so sparkles
    That the eternal beauties it unfolds.

Whate’er from this immediately distils
    Has afterwards no end, for ne’er removed
    Is its impression when it sets its seal.

Whate’er from this immediately rains down
    Is wholly free, because it is not subject
    Unto the influences of novel things.

The more conformed thereto, the more it pleases;
    For the blest ardour that irradiates all things
    In that most like itself is most vivacious.

With all of these things has advantaged been
    The human creature; and if one be wanting,
    From his nobility he needs must fall.

’Tis sin alone which doth disfranchise him,
    And render him unlike the Good Supreme,
    So that he little with its light is blanched,

And to his dignity no more returns,
    Unless he fill up where transgression empties
    With righteous pains for criminal delights.

Your nature when it sinned so utterly
    In its own seed, out of these dignities
    Even as out of Paradise was driven,

Nor could itself recover, if thou notest
    With nicest subtilty, by any way,
    Except by passing one of these two fords:

Either that God through clemency alone
    Had pardon granted, or that man himself
    Had satisfaction for his folly made.

Fix now thine eye deep into the abyss
    Of the eternal counsel, to my speech
    As far as may be fastened steadfastly!

Man in his limitations had not power
    To satisfy, not having power to sink
    In his humility obeying then,

Far as he disobeying thought to rise;
    And for this reason man has been from power
    Of satisfying by himself excluded.

Therefore it God behoved in his own ways
    Man to restore unto his perfect life,
    I say in one, or else in both of them.

But since the action of the doer is
    So much more grateful, as it more presents
    The goodness of the heart from which it issues,

Goodness Divine, that doth imprint the world,
    Has been contented to proceed by each
    And all its ways to lift you up again;

Nor ’twixt the first day and the final night
    Such high and such magnificent proceeding
    By one or by the other was or shall be;

For God more bounteous was himself to give
    To make man able to uplift himself,
    Than if he only of himself had pardoned;

And all the other modes were insufficient
    For justice, were it not the Son of God
    Himself had humbled to become incarnate.

Now, to fill fully each desire of thine,
    Return I to elucidate one place,
    In order that thou there mayst see as I do.

Thou sayst: ‘I see the air, I see the fire,
    The water, and the earth, and all their mixtures
    Come to corruption, and short while endure;

And these things notwithstanding were created;’
    Therefore if that which I have said were true,
    They should have been secure against corruption.

The Angels, brother, and the land sincere
    In which thou art, created may be called
    Just as they are in their entire existence;

But all the elements which thou hast named,
    And all those things which out of them are made,
    By a created virtue are informed.

Created was the matter which they have;
    Created was the informing influence
    Within these stars that round about them go.

The soul of every brute and of the plants
    By its potential temperament attracts
    The ray and motion of the holy lights;

But your own life immediately inspires
    Supreme Beneficence, and enamours it
    So with herself, it evermore desires her.

And thou from this mayst argue furthermore
    Your resurrection, if thou think again
    How human flesh was fashioned at that time

When the first parents both of them were made.”

The world used in its peril to believe
    That the fair Cypria delirious love
    Rayed out, in the third epicycle turning;

Wherefore not only unto her paid honour
    Of sacrifices and of votive cry
    The ancient nations in the ancient error,

But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,
    That as her mother, this one as her son,
    And said that he had sat in Dido’s lap;

And they from her, whence I beginning take,
    Took the denomination of the star
    That woos the sun, now following, now in front.

I was not ware of our ascending to it;
    But of our being in it gave full faith
    My Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.

And as within a flame a spark is seen,
    And as within a voice a voice discerned,
    When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,

Within that light beheld I other lamps
    Move in a circle, speeding more and less,
    Methinks in measure of their inward vision.

From a cold cloud descended never winds,
    Or visible or not, so rapidly
    They would not laggard and impeded seem

To any one who had those lights divine
    Seen come towards us, leaving the gyration
    Begun at first in the high Seraphim.

And behind those that most in front appeared
    Sounded “Osanna!” so that never since
    To hear again was I without desire.

Then unto us more nearly one approached,
    And it alone began: “We all are ready
    Unto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.

We turn around with the celestial Princes,
    One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,
    To whom thou in the world of old didst say,

‘Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;’
    And are so full of love, to pleasure thee
    A little quiet will not be less sweet.”

After these eyes of mine themselves had offered
    Unto my Lady reverently, and she
    Content and certain of herself had made them,

Back to the light they turned, which so great promise
    Made of itself, and “Say, who art thou?” was
    My voice, imprinted with a great affection.

O how and how much I beheld it grow
    With the new joy that superadded was
    Unto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!

Thus changed, it said to me: “The world possessed me
    Short time below; and, if it had been more,
    Much evil will be which would not have been.

My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,
    Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide me
    Like as a creature swathed in its own silk.

Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;
    For had I been below, I should have shown thee
    Somewhat beyond the foliage of my love.

That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itself
    In Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,
    Me for its lord awaited in due time,

And that horn of Ausonia, which is towned
    With Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,
    Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.

Already flashed upon my brow the crown
    Of that dominion which the Danube waters
    After the German borders it abandons;

And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky
    ’Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulf
    Which greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)

Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,
    Would have awaited her own monarchs still,
    Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,

If evil lordship, that exasperates ever
    The subject populations, had not moved
    Palermo to the outcry of ‘Death! death!’

And if my brother could but this foresee,
    The greedy poverty of Catalonia
    Straight would he flee, that it might not molest him;

For verily ’tis needful to provide,
    Through him or other, so that on his bark
    Already freighted no more freight be placed.

His nature, which from liberal covetous
    Descended, such a soldiery would need
    As should not care for hoarding in a chest.”

“Because I do believe the lofty joy
    Thy speech infuses into me, my Lord,
    Where every good thing doth begin and end

Thou seest as I see it, the more grateful
    Is it to me; and this too hold I dear,
    That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.

Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,
    Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,
    How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth.”

This I to him; and he to me: “If I
    Can show to thee a truth, to what thou askest
    Thy face thou’lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.

The Good which all the realm thou art ascending
    Turns and contents, maketh its providence
    To be a power within these bodies vast;

And not alone the natures are foreseen
    Within the mind that in itself is perfect,
    But they together with their preservation.

For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forth
    Falls foreordained unto an end foreseen,
    Even as a shaft directed to its mark.

If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walk
    Would in such manner its effects produce,
    That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.

This cannot be, if the Intelligences
    That keep these stars in motion are not maimed,
    And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.

Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?”
    And I: “Not so; for ’tis impossible
    That nature tire, I see, in what is needful.”

Whence he again: “Now say, would it be worse
    For men on earth were they not citizens?”
    “Yes,” I replied; “and here I ask no reason.”

“And can they be so, if below they live not
    Diversely unto offices diverse?
    No, if your master writeth well for you.”

So came he with deductions to this point;
    Then he concluded: “Therefore it behoves
    The roots of your effects to be diverse.

Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,
    Another Melchisedec, and another he
    Who, flying through the air, his son did lose.

Revolving Nature, which a signet is
    To mortal wax, doth practise well her art,
    But not one inn distinguish from another;

Thence happens it that Esau differeth
    In seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comes
    From sire so vile that he is given to Mars.

A generated nature its own way
    Would always make like its progenitors,
    If Providence divine were not triumphant.

Now that which was behind thee is before thee;
    But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,
    With a corollary will I mantle thee.

Evermore nature, if it fortune find
    Discordant to it, like each other seed
    Out of its region, maketh evil thrift;

And if the world below would fix its mind
    On the foundation which is laid by nature,
    Pursuing that, ’twould have the people good.

But you unto religion wrench aside
    Him who was born to gird him with the sword,
    And make a king of him who is for sermons;

Therefore your footsteps wander from the road.”

Beautiful Clemence, after that thy Charles
    Had me enlightened, he narrated to me
    The treacheries his seed should undergo;

But said: “Be still and let the years roll round;”
    So I can only say, that lamentation
    Legitimate shall follow on your wrongs.

And of that holy light the life already
    Had to the Sun which fills it turned again,
    As to that good which for each thing sufficeth.

Ah, souls deceived, and creatures impious,
    Who from such good do turn away your hearts,
    Directing upon vanity your foreheads!

And now, behold, another of those splendours
    Approached me, and its will to pleasure me
    It signified by brightening outwardly.

The eyes of Beatrice, that fastened were
    Upon me, as before, of dear assent
    To my desire assurance gave to me.

“Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,
    Thou blessed spirit,” I said, “and give me proof
    That what I think in thee I can reflect!”

Whereat the light, that still was new to me,
    Out of its depths, whence it before was singing,
    As one delighted to do good, continued:

“Within that region of the land depraved
    Of Italy, that lies between Rialto
    And fountain-heads of Brenta and of Piava,

Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,
    Wherefrom descended formerly a torch
    That made upon that region great assault.

Out of one root were born both I and it;
    Cunizza was I called, and here I shine
    Because the splendour of this star o’ercame me.

But gladly to myself the cause I pardon
    Of my allotment, and it does not grieve me;
    Which would perhaps seem strong unto your vulgar.

Of this so luculent and precious jewel,
    Which of our heaven is nearest unto me,
    Great fame remained; and ere it die away

This hundredth year shall yet quintupled be.
    See if man ought to make him excellent,
    So that another life the first may leave!

And thus thinks not the present multitude
    Shut in by Adige and Tagliamento,
    Nor yet for being scourged is penitent.

But soon ’twill be that Padua in the marsh
    Will change the water that Vicenza bathes,
    Because the folk are stubborn against duty;

And where the Sile and Cagnano join
    One lordeth it, and goes with lofty head,
    For catching whom e’en now the net is making.

Feltro moreover of her impious pastor
    Shall weep the crime, which shall so monstrous be
    That for the like none ever entered Malta.

Ample exceedingly would be the vat
    That of the Ferrarese could hold the blood,
    And weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce,

Of which this courteous priest shall make a gift
    To show himself a partisan; and such gifts
    Will to the living of the land conform.

Above us there are mirrors, Thrones you call them,
    From which shines out on us God Judicant,
    So that this utterance seems good to us.”

Here it was silent, and it had the semblance
    Of being turned elsewhither, by the wheel
    On which it entered as it was before.

The other joy, already known to me,
    Became a thing transplendent in my sight,
    As a fine ruby smitten by the sun.

Through joy effulgence is acquired above,
    As here a smile; but down below, the shade
    Outwardly darkens, as the mind is sad.

“God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit,
    Thy sight is,” said I, “so that never will
    Of his can possibly from thee be hidden;

Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens
    Glad, with the singing of those holy fires
    Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl,

Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings?
    Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning
    If I in thee were as thou art in me.”

“The greatest of the valleys where the water
    Expands itself,” forthwith its words began,
    “That sea excepted which the earth engarlands,

Between discordant shores against the sun
    Extends so far, that it meridian makes
    Where it was wont before to make the horizon.

I was a dweller on that valley’s shore
    ’Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey short
    Doth from the Tuscan part the Genoese.

With the same sunset and same sunrise nearly
    Sit Buggia and the city whence I was,
    That with its blood once made the harbour hot.

Folco that people called me unto whom
    My name was known; and now with me this heaven
    Imprints itself, as I did once with it;

For more the daughter of Belus never burned,
    Offending both Sichaeus and Creusa,
    Than I, so long as it became my locks,

Nor yet that Rodophean, who deluded
    was by Demophoon, nor yet Alcides,
    When Iole he in his heart had locked.

Yet here is no repenting, but we smile,
    Not at the fault, which comes not back to mind,
    But at the power which ordered and foresaw.

Here we behold the art that doth adorn
    With such affection, and the good discover
    Whereby the world above turns that below.

But that thou wholly satisfied mayst bear
    Thy wishes hence which in this sphere are born,
    Still farther to proceed behoveth me.

Thou fain wouldst know who is within this light
    That here beside me thus is scintillating,
    Even as a sunbeam in the limpid water.

Then know thou, that within there is at rest
    Rahab, and being to our order joined,
    With her in its supremest grade ’tis sealed.

Into this heaven, where ends the shadowy cone
    Cast by your world, before all other souls
    First of Christ’s triumph was she taken up.

Full meet it was to leave her in some heaven,
    Even as a palm of the high victory
    Which he acquired with one palm and the other,

Because she favoured the first glorious deed
    Of Joshua upon the Holy Land,
    That little stirs the memory of the Pope.

Thy city, which an offshoot is of him
    Who first upon his Maker turned his back,
    And whose ambition is so sorely wept,

Brings forth and scatters the accursed flower
    Which both the sheep and lambs hath led astray
    Since it has turned the shepherd to a wolf.

For this the Evangel and the mighty Doctors
    Are derelict, and only the Decretals
    So studied that it shows upon their margins.

On this are Pope and Cardinals intent;
    Their meditations reach not Nazareth,
    There where his pinions Gabriel unfolded;

But Vatican and the other parts elect
    Of Rome, which have a cemetery been
    Unto the soldiery that followed Peter

Shall soon be free from this adultery.”

Looking into his Son with all the Love
    Which each of them eternally breathes forth,
    The Primal and unutterable Power

Whate’er before the mind or eye revolves
    With so much order made, there can be none
    Who this beholds without enjoying Him.

Lift up then, Reader, to the lofty wheels
    With me thy vision straight unto that part
    Where the one motion on the other strikes,

And there begin to contemplate with joy
    That Master’s art, who in himself so loves it
    That never doth his eye depart therefrom.

Behold how from that point goes branching off
    The oblique circle, which conveys the planets,
    To satisfy the world that calls upon them;

And if their pathway were not thus inflected,
    Much virtue in the heavens would be in vain,
    And almost every power below here dead.

If from the straight line distant more or less
    Were the departure, much would wanting be
    Above and underneath of mundane order.

Remain now, Reader, still upon thy bench,
    In thought pursuing that which is foretasted,
    If thou wouldst jocund be instead of weary.

I’ve set before thee; henceforth feed thyself,
    For to itself diverteth all my care
    That theme whereof I have been made the scribe.

The greatest of the ministers of nature,
    Who with the power of heaven the world imprints
    And measures with his light the time for us,

With that part which above is called to mind
    Conjoined, along the spirals was revolving,
    Where each time earlier he presents himself;

And I was with him; but of the ascending
    I was not conscious, saving as a man
    Of a first thought is conscious ere it come;

And Beatrice, she who is seen to pass
    From good to better, and so suddenly
    That not by time her action is expressed,

How lucent in herself must she have been!
    And what was in the sun, wherein I entered,
    Apparent not by colour but by light,

I, though I call on genius, art, and practice,
    Cannot so tell that it could be imagined;
    Believe one can, and let him long to see it.

And if our fantasies too lowly are
    For altitude so great, it is no marvel,
    Since o’er the sun was never eye could go.

Such in this place was the fourth family
    Of the high Father, who forever sates it,
    Showing how he breathes forth and how begets.

And Beatrice began: “Give thanks, give thanks
    Unto the Sun of Angels, who to this
    Sensible one has raised thee by his grace!”

Never was heart of mortal so disposed
    To worship, nor to give itself to God
    With all its gratitude was it so ready,

As at those words did I myself become;
    And all my love was so absorbed in Him,
    That in oblivion Beatrice was eclipsed.

Nor this displeased her; but she smiled at it
    So that the splendour of her laughing eyes
    My single mind on many things divided.

Lights many saw I, vivid and triumphant,
    Make us a centre and themselves a circle,
    More sweet in voice than luminous in aspect.

Thus girt about the daughter of Latona
    We sometimes see, when pregnant is the air,
    So that it holds the thread which makes her zone.

Within the court of Heaven, whence I return,
    Are many jewels found, so fair and precious
    They cannot be transported from the realm;

And of them was the singing of those lights.
    Who takes not wings that he may fly up thither,
    The tidings thence may from the dumb await!

As soon as singing thus those burning suns
    Had round about us whirled themselves three times,
    Like unto stars neighbouring the steadfast poles,

Ladies they seemed, not from the dance released,
    But who stop short, in silence listening
    Till they have gathered the new melody.

And within one I heard beginning: “When
    The radiance of grace, by which is kindled
    True love, and which thereafter grows by loving,

Within thee multiplied is so resplendent
    That it conducts thee upward by that stair,
    Where without reascending none descends,

Who should deny the wine out of his vial
    Unto thy thirst, in liberty were not
    Except as water which descends not seaward.

Fain wouldst thou know with what plants is enflowered
    This garland that encircles with delight
    The Lady fair who makes thee strong for heaven.

Of the lambs was I of the holy flock
    Which Dominic conducteth by a road
    Where well one fattens if he strayeth not.

He who is nearest to me on the right
    My brother and master was; and he Albertus
    Is of Cologne, I Thomas of Aquinum.

If thou of all the others wouldst be certain,
    Follow behind my speaking with thy sight
    Upward along the blessed garland turning.

That next effulgence issues from the smile
    Of Gratian, who assisted both the courts
    In such wise that it pleased in Paradise.

The other which near by adorns our choir
    That Peter was who, e’en as the poor widow,
    Offered his treasure unto Holy Church.

The fifth light, that among us is the fairest,
    Breathes forth from such a love, that all the world
    Below is greedy to learn tidings of it.

Within it is the lofty mind, where knowledge
    So deep was put, that, if the true be true,
    To see so much there never rose a second.

Thou seest next the lustre of that taper,
    Which in the flesh below looked most within
    The angelic nature and its ministry.

Within that other little light is smiling
    The advocate of the Christian centuries,
    Out of whose rhetoric Augustine was furnished.

Now if thou trainest thy mind’s eye along
    From light to light pursuant of my praise,
    With thirst already of the eighth thou waitest.

By seeing every good therein exults
    The sainted soul, which the fallacious world
    Makes manifest to him who listeneth well;

The body whence ’twas hunted forth is lying
    Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom
    And banishment it came unto this peace.

See farther onward flame the burning breath
    Of Isidore, of Beda, and of Richard
    Who was in contemplation more than man.

This, whence to me returneth thy regard,
    The light is of a spirit unto whom
    In his grave meditations death seemed slow.

It is the light eternal of Sigier,
    Who, reading lectures in the Street of Straw,
    Did syllogize invidious verities.”

Then, as a horologe that calleth us
    What time the Bride of God is rising up
    With matins to her Spouse that he may love her,

Wherein one part the other draws and urges,
    Ting! ting! resounding with so sweet a note,
    That swells with love the spirit well disposed,

Thus I beheld the glorious wheel move round,
    And render voice to voice, in modulation
    And sweetness that can not be comprehended,

Excepting there where joy is made eternal.

O Thou insensate care of mortal men,
    How inconclusive are the syllogisms
    That make thee beat thy wings in downward flight!

One after laws and one to aphorisms
    Was going, and one following the priesthood,
    And one to reign by force or sophistry,

And one in theft, and one in state affairs,
    One in the pleasures of the flesh involved
    Wearied himself, one gave himself to ease;

When I, from all these things emancipate,
    With Beatrice above there in the Heavens
    With such exceeding glory was received!

When each one had returned unto that point
    Within the circle where it was before,
    It stood as in a candlestick a candle;

And from within the effulgence which at first
    Had spoken unto me, I heard begin
    Smiling while it more luminous became:

“Even as I am kindled in its ray,
    So, looking into the Eternal Light,
    The occasion of thy thoughts I apprehend.

Thou doubtest, and wouldst have me to resift
    In language so extended and so open
    My speech, that to thy sense it may be plain,

Where just before I said, ‘where well one fattens,’
    And where I said, ‘there never rose a second;’
    And here ’tis needful we distinguish well.

The Providence, which governeth the world
    With counsel, wherein all created vision
    Is vanquished ere it reach unto the bottom,

(So that towards her own Beloved might go
    The bride of Him who, uttering a loud cry,
    Espoused her with his consecrated blood,

Self-confident and unto Him more faithful,)
    Two Princes did ordain in her behoof,
    Which on this side and that might be her guide.

The one was all seraphical in ardour;
    The other by his wisdom upon earth
    A splendour was of light cherubical.

One will I speak of, for of both is spoken
    In praising one, whichever may be taken,
    Because unto one end their labours were.

Between Tupino and the stream that falls
    Down from the hill elect of blessed Ubald,
    A fertile slope of lofty mountain hangs,

From which Perugia feels the cold and heat
    Through Porta Sole, and behind it weep
    Gualdo and Nocera their grievous yoke.

From out that slope, there where it breaketh most
    Its steepness, rose upon the world a sun
    As this one does sometimes from out the Ganges;

Therefore let him who speaketh of that place,
    Say not Ascesi, for he would say little,
    But Orient, if he properly would speak.

He was not yet far distant from his rising
    Before he had begun to make the earth
    Some comfort from his mighty virtue feel.

For he in youth his father’s wrath incurred
    For certain Dame, to whom, as unto death,
    The gate of pleasure no one doth unlock;

And was before his spiritual court
    ‘Et coram patre’ unto her united;
    Then day by day more fervently he loved her.

She, reft of her first husband, scorned, obscure,
    One thousand and one hundred years and more,
    Waited without a suitor till he came.

Naught it availed to hear, that with Amyclas
    Found her unmoved at sounding of his voice
    He who struck terror into all the world;

Naught it availed being constant and undaunted,
    So that, when Mary still remained below,
    She mounted up with Christ upon the cross.

But that too darkly I may not proceed,
    Francis and Poverty for these two lovers
    Take thou henceforward in my speech diffuse.

Their concord and their joyous semblances,
    The love, the wonder, and the sweet regard,
    They made to be the cause of holy thoughts;

So much so that the venerable Bernard
    First bared his feet, and after so great peace
    Ran, and, in running, thought himself too slow.

O wealth unknown! O veritable good!
    Giles bares his feet, and bares his feet Sylvester
    Behind the bridegroom, so doth please the bride!

Then goes his way that father and that master,
    He and his Lady and that family
    Which now was girding on the humble cord;

Nor cowardice of heart weighed down his brow
    At being son of Peter Bernardone,
    Nor for appearing marvellously scorned;

But regally his hard determination
    To Innocent he opened, and from him
    Received the primal seal upon his Order.

After the people mendicant increased
    Behind this man, whose admirable life
    Better in glory of the heavens were sung,

Incoronated with a second crown
    Was through Honorius by the Eternal Spirit
    The holy purpose of this Archimandrite.

And when he had, through thirst of martyrdom,
    In the proud presence of the Sultan preached
    Christ and the others who came after him,

And, finding for conversion too unripe
    The folk, and not to tarry there in vain,
    Returned to fruit of the Italic grass,

On the rude rock ’twixt Tiber and the Arno
    From Christ did he receive the final seal,
    Which during two whole years his members bore.

When He, who chose him unto so much good,
    Was pleased to draw him up to the reward
    That he had merited by being lowly,

Unto his friars, as to the rightful heirs,
    His most dear Lady did he recommend,
    And bade that they should love her faithfully;

And from her bosom the illustrious soul
    Wished to depart, returning to its realm,
    And for its body wished no other bier.

Think now what man was he, who was a fit
    Companion over the high seas to keep
    The bark of Peter to its proper bearings.

And this man was our Patriarch; hence whoever
    Doth follow him as he commands can see
    That he is laden with good merchandise.

But for new pasturage his flock has grown
    So greedy, that it is impossible
    They be not scattered over fields diverse;

And in proportion as his sheep remote
    And vagabond go farther off from him,
    More void of milk return they to the fold.

Verily some there are that fear a hurt,
    And keep close to the shepherd; but so few,
    That little cloth doth furnish forth their hoods.

Now if my utterance be not indistinct,
    If thine own hearing hath attentive been,
    If thou recall to mind what I have said,

In part contented shall thy wishes be;
    For thou shalt see the plant that’s chipped away,
    And the rebuke that lieth in the words,

‘Where well one fattens, if he strayeth not.’”

Soon as the blessed flame had taken up
    The final word to give it utterance,
    Began the holy millstone to revolve,

And in its gyre had not turned wholly round,
    Before another in a ring enclosed it,
    And motion joined to motion, song to song;

Song that as greatly doth transcend our Muses,
    Our Sirens, in those dulcet clarions,
    As primal splendour that which is reflected.

And as are spanned athwart a tender cloud
    Two rainbows parallel and like in colour,
    When Juno to her handmaid gives command,

(The one without born of the one within,
    Like to the speaking of that vagrant one
    Whom love consumed as doth the sun the vapours,)

And make the people here, through covenant
    God set with Noah, presageful of the world
    That shall no more be covered with a flood,

In such wise of those sempiternal roses
    The garlands twain encompassed us about,
    And thus the outer to the inner answered.

After the dance, and other grand rejoicings,
    Both of the singing, and the flaming forth
    Effulgence with effulgence blithe and tender,

Together, at once, with one accord had stopped,
    (Even as the eyes, that, as volition moves them,
    Must needs together shut and lift themselves,)

Out of the heart of one of the new lights
    There came a voice, that needle to the star
    Made me appear in turning thitherward.

And it began: “The love that makes me fair
    Draws me to speak about the other leader,
    By whom so well is spoken here of mine.

’Tis right, where one is, to bring in the other,
    That, as they were united in their warfare,
    Together likewise may their glory shine.

The soldiery of Christ, which it had cost
    So dear to arm again, behind the standard
    Moved slow and doubtful and in numbers few,

When the Emperor who reigneth evermore
    Provided for the host that was in peril,
    Through grace alone and not that it was worthy;

And, as was said, he to his Bride brought succour
    With champions twain, at whose deed, at whose word
    The straggling people were together drawn.

Within that region where the sweet west wind
    Rises to open the new leaves, wherewith
    Europe is seen to clothe herself afresh,

Not far off from the beating of the waves,
    Behind which in his long career the sun
    Sometimes conceals himself from every man,

Is situate the fortunate Calahorra,
    Under protection of the mighty shield
    In which the Lion subject is and sovereign.

Therein was born the amorous paramour
    Of Christian Faith, the athlete consecrate,
    Kind to his own and cruel to his foes;

And when it was created was his mind
    Replete with such a living energy,
    That in his mother her it made prophetic.

As soon as the espousals were complete
    Between him and the Faith at holy font,
    Where they with mutual safety dowered each other,

The woman, who for him had given assent,
    Saw in a dream the admirable fruit
    That issue would from him and from his heirs;

And that he might be construed as he was,
    A spirit from this place went forth to name him
    With His possessive whose he wholly was.

Dominic was he called; and him I speak of
    Even as of the husbandman whom Christ
    Elected to his garden to assist him.

Envoy and servant sooth he seemed of Christ,
    For the first love made manifest in him
    Was the first counsel that was given by Christ.

Silent and wakeful many a time was he
    Discovered by his nurse upon the ground,
    As if he would have said, ‘For this I came.’

O thou his father, Felix verily!
    O thou his mother, verily Joanna,
    If this, interpreted, means as is said!

Not for the world which people toil for now
    In following Ostiense and Taddeo,
    But through his longing after the true manna,

He in short time became so great a teacher,
    That he began to go about the vineyard,
    Which fadeth soon, if faithless be the dresser;

And of the See, (that once was more benignant
    Unto the righteous poor, not through itself,
    But him who sits there and degenerates,)

Not to dispense or two or three for six,
    Not any fortune of first vacancy,
    ‘Non decimas quae sunt pauperum Dei,’

He asked for, but against the errant world
    Permission to do battle for the seed,
    Of which these four and twenty plants surround thee.

Then with the doctrine and the will together,
    With office apostolical he moved,
    Like torrent which some lofty vein out-presses;

And in among the shoots heretical
    His impetus with greater fury smote,
    Wherever the resistance was the greatest.

Of him were made thereafter divers runnels,
    Whereby the garden catholic is watered,
    So that more living its plantations stand.

If such the one wheel of the Biga was,
    In which the Holy Church itself defended
    And in the field its civic battle won,

Truly full manifest should be to thee
    The excellence of the other, unto whom
    Thomas so courteous was before my coming.

But still the orbit, which the highest part
    Of its circumference made, is derelict,
    So that the mould is where was once the crust.

His family, that had straight forward moved
    With feet upon his footprints, are turned round
    So that they set the point upon the heel.

And soon aware they will be of the harvest
    Of this bad husbandry, when shall the tares
    Complain the granary is taken from them.

Yet say I, he who searcheth leaf by leaf
    Our volume through, would still some page discover
    Where he could read, ‘I am as I am wont.’

’Twill not be from Casal nor Acquasparta,
    From whence come such unto the written word
    That one avoids it, and the other narrows.

Bonaventura of Bagnoregio’s life
    Am I, who always in great offices
    Postponed considerations sinister.

Here are Illuminato and Agostino,
    Who of the first barefooted beggars were
    That with the cord the friends of God became.

Hugh of Saint Victor is among them here,
    And Peter Mangiador, and Peter of Spain,
    Who down below in volumes twelve is shining;

Nathan the seer, and metropolitan
    Chrysostom, and Anselmus, and Donatus
    Who deigned to lay his hand to the first art;

Here is Rabanus, and beside me here
    Shines the Calabrian Abbot Joachim,
    He with the spirit of prophecy endowed.

To celebrate so great a paladin
    Have moved me the impassioned courtesy
    And the discreet discourses of Friar Thomas,

And with me they have moved this company.”

Let him imagine, who would well conceive
    What now I saw, and let him while I speak
    Retain the image as a steadfast rock,

The fifteen stars, that in their divers regions
    The sky enliven with a light so great
    That it transcends all clusters of the air;

Let him the Wain imagine unto which
    Our vault of heaven sufficeth night and day,
    So that in turning of its pole it fails not;

Let him the mouth imagine of the horn
    That in the point beginneth of the axis
    Round about which the primal wheel revolves,—

To have fashioned of themselves two signs in heaven,
    Like unto that which Minos’ daughter made,
    The moment when she felt the frost of death;

And one to have its rays within the other,
    And both to whirl themselves in such a manner
    That one should forward go, the other backward;

And he will have some shadowing forth of that
    True constellation and the double dance
    That circled round the point at which I was;

Because it is as much beyond our wont,
    As swifter than the motion of the Chiana
    Moveth the heaven that all the rest outspeeds.

There sang they neither Bacchus, nor Apollo,
    But in the divine nature Persons three,
    And in one person the divine and human.

The singing and the dance fulfilled their measure,
    And unto us those holy lights gave need,
    Growing in happiness from care to care.

Then broke the silence of those saints concordant
    The light in which the admirable life
    Of God’s own mendicant was told to me,

And said: “Now that one straw is trodden out
    Now that its seed is garnered up already,
    Sweet love invites me to thresh out the other.

Into that bosom, thou believest, whence
    Was drawn the rib to form the beauteous cheek
    Whose taste to all the world is costing dear,

And into that which, by the lance transfixed,
    Before and since, such satisfaction made
    That it weighs down the balance of all sin,

Whate’er of light it has to human nature
    Been lawful to possess was all infused
    By the same power that both of them created;

And hence at what I said above dost wonder,
    When I narrated that no second had
    The good which in the fifth light is enclosed.

Now ope thine eyes to what I answer thee,
    And thou shalt see thy creed and my discourse
    Fit in the truth as centre in a circle.

That which can die, and that which dieth not,
    Are nothing but the splendour of the idea
    Which by his love our Lord brings into being;

Because that living Light, which from its fount
    Effulgent flows, so that it disunites not
    From Him nor from the Love in them intrined,

Through its own goodness reunites its rays
    In nine subsistences, as in a mirror,
    Itself eternally remaining One.

Thence it descends to the last potencies,
    Downward from act to act becoming such
    That only brief contingencies it makes;

And these contingencies I hold to be
    Things generated, which the heaven produces
    By its own motion, with seed and without.

Neither their wax, nor that which tempers it,
    Remains immutable, and hence beneath
    The ideal signet more and less shines through;

Therefore it happens, that the selfsame tree
    After its kind bears worse and better fruit,
    And ye are born with characters diverse.

If in perfection tempered were the wax,
    And were the heaven in its supremest virtue,
    The brilliance of the seal would all appear;

But nature gives it evermore deficient,
    In the like manner working as the artist,
    Who has the skill of art and hand that trembles.

If then the fervent Love, the Vision clear,
    Of primal Virtue do dispose and seal,
    Perfection absolute is there acquired.

Thus was of old the earth created worthy
    Of all and every animal perfection;
    And thus the Virgin was impregnate made;

So that thine own opinion I commend,
    That human nature never yet has been,
    Nor will be, what it was in those two persons.

Now if no farther forth I should proceed,
    ‘Then in what way was he without a peer?’
    Would be the first beginning of thy words.

But, that may well appear what now appears not,
    Think who he was, and what occasion moved him
    To make request, when it was told him, ‘Ask.’

I’ve not so spoken that thou canst not see
    Clearly he was a king who asked for wisdom,
    That he might be sufficiently a king;

’Twas not to know the number in which are
    The motors here above, or if ‘necesse’
    With a contingent e’er ‘necesse’ make,

‘Non si est dare primum motum esse,’
    Or if in semicircle can be made
    Triangle so that it have no right angle.

Whence, if thou notest this and what I said,
    A regal prudence is that peerless seeing
    In which the shaft of my intention strikes.

And if on ‘rose’ thou turnest thy clear eyes,
    Thou’lt see that it has reference alone
    To kings who’re many, and the good are rare.

With this distinction take thou what I said,
    And thus it can consist with thy belief
    Of the first father and of our Delight.

And lead shall this be always to thy feet,
    To make thee, like a weary man, move slowly
    Both to the Yes and No thou seest not;

For very low among the fools is he
    Who affirms without distinction, or denies,
    As well in one as in the other case;

Because it happens that full often bends
    Current opinion in the false direction,
    And then the feelings bind the intellect.

Far more than uselessly he leaves the shore,
    (Since he returneth not the same he went,)
    Who fishes for the truth, and has no skill;

And in the world proofs manifest thereof
    Parmenides, Melissus, Brissus are,
    And many who went on and knew not whither;

Thus did Sabellius, Arius, and those fools
    Who have been even as swords unto the Scriptures
    In rendering distorted their straight faces.

Nor yet shall people be too confident
    In judging, even as he is who doth count
    The corn in field or ever it be ripe.

For I have seen all winter long the thorn
    First show itself intractable and fierce,
    And after bear the rose upon its top;

And I have seen a ship direct and swift
    Run o’er the sea throughout its course entire,
    To perish at the harbour’s mouth at last.

Let not Dame Bertha nor Ser Martin think,
    Seeing one steal, another offering make,
    To see them in the arbitrament divine;

For one may rise, and fall the other may.”

From centre unto rim, from rim to centre,
    In a round vase the water moves itself,
    As from without ’tis struck or from within.

Into my mind upon a sudden dropped
    What I am saying, at the moment when
    Silent became the glorious life of Thomas,

Because of the resemblance that was born
    Of his discourse and that of Beatrice,
    Whom, after him, it pleased thus to begin:

“This man has need (and does not tell you so,
    Nor with the voice, nor even in his thought)
    Of going to the root of one truth more.

Declare unto him if the light wherewith
    Blossoms your substance shall remain with you
    Eternally the same that it is now;

And if it do remain, say in what manner,
    After ye are again made visible,
    It can be that it injure not your sight.”

As by a greater gladness urged and drawn
    They who are dancing in a ring sometimes
    Uplift their voices and their motions quicken;

So, at that orison devout and prompt,
    The holy circles a new joy displayed
    In their revolving and their wondrous song.

Whoso lamenteth him that here we die
    That we may live above, has never there
    Seen the refreshment of the eternal rain.

The One and Two and Three who ever liveth,
    And reigneth ever in Three and Two and One,
    Not circumscribed and all things circumscribing,

Three several times was chanted by each one
    Among those spirits, with such melody
    That for all merit it were just reward;

And, in the lustre most divine of all
    The lesser ring, I heard a modest voice,
    Such as perhaps the Angel’s was to Mary,

Answer: “As long as the festivity
    Of Paradise shall be, so long our love
    Shall radiate round about us such a vesture.

Its brightness is proportioned to the ardour,
    The ardour to the vision; and the vision
    Equals what grace it has above its worth.

When, glorious and sanctified, our flesh
    Is reassumed, then shall our persons be
    More pleasing by their being all complete;

For will increase whate’er bestows on us
    Of light gratuitous the Good Supreme,
    Light which enables us to look on Him;

Therefore the vision must perforce increase,
    Increase the ardour which from that is kindled,
    Increase the radiance which from this proceeds.

But even as a coal that sends forth flame,
    And by its vivid whiteness overpowers it
    So that its own appearance it maintains,

Thus the effulgence that surrounds us now
    Shall be o’erpowered in aspect by the flesh,
    Which still to-day the earth doth cover up;

Nor can so great a splendour weary us,
    For strong will be the organs of the body
    To everything which hath the power to please us.”

So sudden and alert appeared to me
    Both one and the other choir to say Amen,
    That well they showed desire for their dead bodies;

Nor sole for them perhaps, but for the mothers,
    The fathers, and the rest who had been dear
    Or ever they became eternal flames.

And lo! all round about of equal brightness
    Arose a lustre over what was there,
    Like an horizon that is clearing up.

And as at rise of early eve begin
    Along the welkin new appearances,
    So that the sight seems real and unreal,

It seemed to me that new subsistences
    Began there to be seen, and make a circle
    Outside the other two circumferences.

O very sparkling of the Holy Spirit,
    How sudden and incandescent it became
    Unto mine eyes, that vanquished bore it not!

But Beatrice so beautiful and smiling
    Appeared to me, that with the other sights
    That followed not my memory I must leave her.

Then to uplift themselves mine eyes resumed
    The power, and I beheld myself translated
    To higher salvation with my Lady only.

Well was I ware that I was more uplifted
    By the enkindled smiling of the star,
    That seemed to me more ruddy than its wont.

With all my heart, and in that dialect
    Which is the same in all, such holocaust
    To God I made as the new grace beseemed;

And not yet from my bosom was exhausted
    The ardour of sacrifice, before I knew
    This offering was accepted and auspicious;

For with so great a lustre and so red
    Splendours appeared to me in twofold rays,
    I said: “O Helios who dost so adorn them!”

Even as distinct with less and greater lights
    Glimmers between the two poles of the world
    The Galaxy that maketh wise men doubt,

Thus constellated in the depths of Mars,
    Those rays described the venerable sign
    That quadrants joining in a circle make.

Here doth my memory overcome my genius;
    For on that cross as levin gleamed forth Christ,
    So that I cannot find ensample worthy;

But he who takes his cross and follows Christ
    Again will pardon me what I omit,
    Seeing in that aurora lighten Christ.

From horn to horn, and ’twixt the top and base,
    Lights were in motion, brightly scintillating
    As they together met and passed each other;

Thus level and aslant and swift and slow
    We here behold, renewing still the sight,
    The particles of bodies long and short,

Across the sunbeam move, wherewith is listed
    Sometimes the shade, which for their own defence
    People with cunning and with art contrive.

And as a lute and harp, accordant strung
    With many strings, a dulcet tinkling make
    To him by whom the notes are not distinguished,

So from the lights that there to me appeared
    Upgathered through the cross a melody,
    Which rapt me, not distinguishing the hymn.

Well was I ware it was of lofty laud,
    Because there came to me, “Arise and conquer!”
    As unto him who hears and comprehends not.

So much enamoured I became therewith,
    That until then there was not anything
    That e’er had fettered me with such sweet bonds.

Perhaps my word appears somewhat too bold,
    Postponing the delight of those fair eyes,
    Into which gazing my desire has rest;

But who bethinks him that the living seals
    Of every beauty grow in power ascending,
    And that I there had not turned round to those,

Can me excuse, if I myself accuse
    To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly:
    For here the holy joy is not disclosed,

Because ascending it becomes more pure.

A will benign, in which reveals itself
    Ever the love that righteously inspires,
    As in the iniquitous, cupidity,

Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre,
    And quieted the consecrated chords,
    That Heaven’s right hand doth tighten and relax.

How unto just entreaties shall be deaf
    Those substances, which, to give me desire
    Of praying them, with one accord grew silent?

’Tis well that without end he should lament,
    Who for the love of thing that doth not last
    Eternally despoils him of that love!

As through the pure and tranquil evening air
    There shoots from time to time a sudden fire,
    Moving the eyes that steadfast were before,

And seems to be a star that changeth place,
    Except that in the part where it is kindled
    Nothing is missed, and this endureth little;

So from the horn that to the right extends
    Unto that cross’s foot there ran a star
    Out of the constellation shining there;

Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon,
    But down the radiant fillet ran along,
    So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.

Thus piteous did Anchises’ shade reach forward,
    If any faith our greatest Muse deserve,
    When in Elysium he his son perceived.

“O sanguis meus, O superinfusa
    Gratia Dei, sicut tibi, cui
    Bis unquam Coeli janua reclusa?”

Thus that effulgence; whence I gave it heed;
    Then round unto my Lady turned my sight,
    And on this side and that was stupefied;

For in her eyes was burning such a smile
    That with mine own methought I touched the bottom
    Both of my grace and of my Paradise!

Then, pleasant to the hearing and the sight,
    The spirit joined to its beginning things
    I understood not, so profound it spake;

Nor did it hide itself from me by choice,
    But by necessity; for its conception
    Above the mark of mortals set itself.

And when the bow of burning sympathy
    Was so far slackened, that its speech descended
    Towards the mark of our intelligence,

The first thing that was understood by me
    Was “Benedight be Thou, O Trine and One,
    Who hast unto my seed so courteous been!”

And it continued: “Hunger long and grateful,
    Drawn from the reading of the mighty volume
    Wherein is never changed the white nor dark,

Thou hast appeased, my son, within this light
    In which I speak to thee, by grace of her
    Who to this lofty flight with plumage clothed thee.

Thou thinkest that to me thy thought doth pass
    From Him who is the first, as from the unit,
    If that be known, ray out the five and six;

And therefore who I am thou askest not,
    And why I seem more joyous unto thee
    Than any other of this gladsome crowd.

Thou think’st the truth; because the small and great
    Of this existence look into the mirror
    Wherein, before thou think’st, thy thought thou showest.

But that the sacred love, in which I watch
    With sight perpetual, and which makes me thirst
    With sweet desire, may better be fulfilled,

Now let thy voice secure and frank and glad
    Proclaim the wishes, the desire proclaim,
    To which my answer is decreed already.”

To Beatrice I turned me, and she heard
    Before I spake, and smiled to me a sign,
    That made the wings of my desire increase;

Then in this wise began I: “Love and knowledge,
    When on you dawned the first Equality,
    Of the same weight for each of you became;

For in the Sun, which lighted you and burned
    With heat and radiance, they so equal are,
    That all similitudes are insufficient.

But among mortals will and argument,
    For reason that to you is manifest,
    Diversely feathered in their pinions are.

Whence I, who mortal am, feel in myself
    This inequality; so give not thanks,
    Save in my heart, for this paternal welcome.

Truly do I entreat thee, living topaz!
    Set in this precious jewel as a gem,
    That thou wilt satisfy me with thy name.”

“O leaf of mine, in whom I pleasure took
    E’en while awaiting, I was thine own root!”
    Such a beginning he in answer made me.

Then said to me: “That one from whom is named
    Thy race, and who a hundred years and more
    Has circled round the mount on the first cornice,

A son of mine and thy great-grandsire was;
    Well it behoves thee that the long fatigue
    Thou shouldst for him make shorter with thy works.

Florence, within the ancient boundary
    From which she taketh still her tierce and nones,
    Abode in quiet, temperate and chaste.

No golden chain she had, nor coronal,
    Nor ladies shod with sandal shoon, nor girdle
    That caught the eye more than the person did.

Not yet the daughter at her birth struck fear
    Into the father, for the time and dower
    Did not o’errun this side or that the measure.

No houses had she void of families,
    Not yet had thither come Sardanapalus
    To show what in a chamber can be done;

Not yet surpassed had Montemalo been
    By your Uccellatojo, which surpassed
    Shall in its downfall be as in its rise.

Bellincion Berti saw I go begirt
    With leather and with bone, and from the mirror
    His dame depart without a painted face;

And him of Nerli saw, and him of Vecchio,
    Contented with their simple suits of buff
    And with the spindle and the flax their dames.

O fortunate women! and each one was certain
    Of her own burial-place, and none as yet
    For sake of France was in her bed deserted.

One o’er the cradle kept her studious watch,
    And in her lullaby the language used
    That first delights the fathers and the mothers;

Another, drawing tresses from her distaff,
    Told o’er among her family the tales
    Of Trojans and of Fesole and Rome.

As great a marvel then would have been held
    A Lapo Salterello, a Cianghella,
    As Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.

To such a quiet, such a beautiful
    Life of the citizen, to such a safe
    Community, and to so sweet an inn,

Did Mary give me, with loud cries invoked,
    And in your ancient Baptistery at once
    Christian and Cacciaguida I became.

Moronto was my brother, and Eliseo;
    From Val di Pado came to me my wife,
    And from that place thy surname was derived.

I followed afterward the Emperor Conrad,
    And he begirt me of his chivalry,
    So much I pleased him with my noble deeds.

I followed in his train against that law’s
    Iniquity, whose people doth usurp
    Your just possession, through your Pastor’s fault.

There by that execrable race was I
    Released from bonds of the fallacious world,
    The love of which defileth many souls,

And came from martyrdom unto this peace.”

O thou our poor nobility of blood,
    If thou dost make the people glory in thee
    Down here where our affection languishes,

A marvellous thing it ne’er will be to me;
    For there where appetite is not perverted,
    I say in Heaven, of thee I made a boast!

Truly thou art a cloak that quickly shortens,
    So that unless we piece thee day by day
    Time goeth round about thee with his shears!

With ‘You,’ which Rome was first to tolerate,
    (Wherein her family less perseveres,)
    Yet once again my words beginning made;

Whence Beatrice, who stood somewhat apart,
    Smiling, appeared like unto her who coughed
    At the first failing writ of Guenever.

And I began: “You are my ancestor,
    You give to me all hardihood to speak,
    You lift me so that I am more than I.

So many rivulets with gladness fill
    My mind, that of itself it makes a joy
    Because it can endure this and not burst.

Then tell me, my beloved root ancestral,
    Who were your ancestors, and what the years
    That in your boyhood chronicled themselves?

Tell me about the sheepfold of Saint John,
    How large it was, and who the people were
    Within it worthy of the highest seats.”

As at the blowing of the winds a coal
    Quickens to flame, so I beheld that light
    Become resplendent at my blandishments.

And as unto mine eyes it grew more fair,
    With voice more sweet and tender, but not in
    This modern dialect, it said to me:

“From uttering of the ‘Ave,’ till the birth
    In which my mother, who is now a saint,
    Of me was lightened who had been her burden,

Unto its Lion had this fire returned
    Five hundred fifty times and thirty more,
    To reinflame itself beneath his paw.

My ancestors and I our birthplace had
    Where first is found the last ward of the city
    By him who runneth in your annual game.

Suffice it of my elders to hear this;
    But who they were, and whence they thither came,
    Silence is more considerate than speech.

All those who at that time were there between
    Mars and the Baptist, fit for bearing arms,
    Were a fifth part of those who now are living;

But the community, that now is mixed
    With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine,
    Pure in the lowest artisan was seen.

O how much better ’twere to have as neighbours
    The folk of whom I speak, and at Galluzzo
    And at Trespiano have your boundary,

Than have them in the town, and bear the stench
    Of Aguglione’s churl, and him of Signa
    Who has sharp eyes for trickery already.

Had not the folk, which most of all the world
    Degenerates, been a step-dame unto Caesar,
    But as a mother to her son benignant,

Some who turn Florentines, and trade and discount,
    Would have gone back again to Simifonte
    There where their grandsires went about as beggars.

At Montemurlo still would be the Counts,
    The Cerchi in the parish of Acone,
    Perhaps in Valdigrieve the Buondelmonti.

Ever the intermingling of the people
    Has been the source of malady in cities,
    As in the body food it surfeits on;

And a blind bull more headlong plunges down
    Than a blind lamb; and very often cuts
    Better and more a single sword than five.

If Luni thou regard, and Urbisaglia,
    How they have passed away, and how are passing
    Chiusi and Sinigaglia after them,

To hear how races waste themselves away,
    Will seem to thee no novel thing nor hard,
    Seeing that even cities have an end.

All things of yours have their mortality,
    Even as yourselves; but it is hidden in some
    That a long while endure, and lives are short;

And as the turning of the lunar heaven
    Covers and bares the shores without a pause,
    In the like manner fortune does with Florence.

Therefore should not appear a marvellous thing
    What I shall say of the great Florentines
    Of whom the fame is hidden in the Past.

I saw the Ughi, saw the Catellini,
    Filippi, Greci, Ormanni, and Alberichi,
    Even in their fall illustrious citizens;

And saw, as mighty as they ancient were,
    With him of La Sannella him of Arca,
    And Soldanier, Ardinghi, and Bostichi.

Near to the gate that is at present laden
    With a new felony of so much weight
    That soon it shall be jetsam from the bark,

The Ravignani were, from whom descended
    The County Guido, and whoe’er the name
    Of the great Bellincione since hath taken.

He of La Pressa knew the art of ruling
    Already, and already Galigajo
    Had hilt and pommel gilded in his house.

Mighty already was the Column Vair,
    Sacchetti, Giuochi, Fifant, and Barucci,
    And Galli, and they who for the bushel blush.

The stock from which were the Calfucci born
    Was great already, and already chosen
    To curule chairs the Sizii and Arrigucci.

O how beheld I those who are undone
    By their own pride! and how the Balls of Gold
    Florence enflowered in all their mighty deeds!

So likewise did the ancestors of those
    Who evermore, when vacant is your church,
    Fatten by staying in consistory.

The insolent race, that like a dragon follows
    Whoever flees, and unto him that shows
    His teeth or purse is gentle as a lamb,

Already rising was, but from low people;
    So that it pleased not Ubertin Donato
    That his wife’s father should make him their kin.

Already had Caponsacco to the Market
    From Fesole descended, and already
    Giuda and Infangato were good burghers.

I’ll tell a thing incredible, but true;
    One entered the small circuit by a gate
    Which from the Della Pera took its name!

Each one that bears the beautiful escutcheon
    Of the great baron whose renown and name
    The festival of Thomas keepeth fresh,

Knighthood and privilege from him received;
    Though with the populace unites himself
    To-day the man who binds it with a border.

Already were Gualterotti and Importuni;
    And still more quiet would the Borgo be
    If with new neighbours it remained unfed.

The house from which is born your lamentation,
    Through just disdain that death among you brought
    And put an end unto your joyous life,

Was honoured in itself and its companions.
    O Buondelmonte, how in evil hour
    Thou fled’st the bridal at another’s promptings!

Many would be rejoicing who are sad,
    If God had thee surrendered to the Ema
    The first time that thou camest to the city.

But it behoved the mutilated stone
    Which guards the bridge, that Florence should provide
    A victim in her latest hour of peace.

With all these families, and others with them,
    Florence beheld I in so great repose,
    That no occasion had she whence to weep;

With all these families beheld so just
    And glorious her people, that the lily
    Never upon the spear was placed reversed,

Nor by division was vermilion made.”

As came to Clymene, to be made certain
    Of that which he had heard against himself,
    He who makes fathers chary still to children,

Even such was I, and such was I perceived
    By Beatrice and by the holy light
    That first on my account had changed its place.

Therefore my Lady said to me: “Send forth
    The flame of thy desire, so that it issue
    Imprinted well with the internal stamp;

Not that our knowledge may be greater made
    By speech of thine, but to accustom thee
    To tell thy thirst, that we may give thee drink.”

“O my beloved tree, (that so dost lift thee,
    That even as minds terrestrial perceive
    No triangle containeth two obtuse,

So thou beholdest the contingent things
    Ere in themselves they are, fixing thine eyes
    Upon the point in which all times are present,)

While I was with Virgilius conjoined
    Upon the mountain that the souls doth heal,
    And when descending into the dead world,

Were spoken to me of my future life
    Some grievous words; although I feel myself
    In sooth foursquare against the blows of chance.

On this account my wish would be content
    To hear what fortune is approaching me,
    Because foreseen an arrow comes more slowly.”

Thus did I say unto that selfsame light
    That unto me had spoken before; and even
    As Beatrice willed was my own will confessed.

Not in vague phrase, in which the foolish folk
    Ensnared themselves of old, ere yet was slain
    The Lamb of God who taketh sins away,

But with clear words and unambiguous
    Language responded that paternal love,
    Hid and revealed by its own proper smile:

“Contingency, that outside of the volume
    Of your materiality extends not,
    Is all depicted in the eternal aspect.

Necessity however thence it takes not,
    Except as from the eye, in which ’tis mirrored,
    A ship that with the current down descends.

From thence, e’en as there cometh to the ear
    Sweet harmony from an organ, comes in sight
    To me the time that is preparing for thee.

As forth from Athens went Hippolytus,
    By reason of his step-dame false and cruel,
    So thou from Florence must perforce depart.

Already this is willed, and this is sought for;
    And soon it shall be done by him who thinks it,
    Where every day the Christ is bought and sold.

The blame shall follow the offended party
    In outcry as is usual; but the vengeance
    Shall witness to the truth that doth dispense it.

Thou shalt abandon everything beloved
    Most tenderly, and this the arrow is
    Which first the bow of banishment shoots forth.

Thou shalt have proof how savoureth of salt
    The bread of others, and how hard a road
    The going down and up another’s stairs.

And that which most shall weigh upon thy shoulders
    Will be the bad and foolish company
    With which into this valley thou shalt fall;

For all ingrate, all mad and impious
    Will they become against thee; but soon after
    They, and not thou, shall have the forehead scarlet.

Of their bestiality their own proceedings
    Shall furnish proof; so ’twill be well for thee
    A party to have made thee by thyself.

Thine earliest refuge and thine earliest inn
    Shall be the mighty Lombard’s courtesy,
    Who on the Ladder bears the holy bird,

Who such benign regard shall have for thee
    That ’twixt you twain, in doing and in asking,
    That shall be first which is with others last.

With him shalt thou see one who at his birth
    Has by this star of strength been so impressed,
    That notable shall his achievements be.

Not yet the people are aware of him
    Through his young age, since only nine years yet
    Around about him have these wheels revolved.

But ere the Gascon cheat the noble Henry,
    Some sparkles of his virtue shall appear
    In caring not for silver nor for toil.

So recognized shall his magnificence
    Become hereafter, that his enemies
    Will not have power to keep mute tongues about it.

On him rely, and on his benefits;
    By him shall many people be transformed,
    Changing condition rich and mendicant;

And written in thy mind thou hence shalt bear
    Of him, but shalt not say it”—and things said he
    Incredible to those who shall be present.

Then added: “Son, these are the commentaries
    On what was said to thee; behold the snares
    That are concealed behind few revolutions;

Yet would I not thy neighbours thou shouldst envy,
    Because thy life into the future reaches
    Beyond the punishment of their perfidies.”

When by its silence showed that sainted soul
    That it had finished putting in the woof
    Into that web which I had given it warped,

Began I, even as he who yearneth after,
    Being in doubt, some counsel from a person
    Who seeth, and uprightly wills, and loves:

“Well see I, father mine, how spurreth on
    The time towards me such a blow to deal me
    As heaviest is to him who most gives way.

Therefore with foresight it is well I arm me,
    That, if the dearest place be taken from me,
    I may not lose the others by my songs.

Down through the world of infinite bitterness,
    And o’er the mountain, from whose beauteous summit
    The eyes of my own Lady lifted me,

And afterward through heaven from light to light,
    I have learned that which, if I tell again,
    Will be a savour of strong herbs to many.

And if I am a timid friend to truth,
    I fear lest I may lose my life with those
    Who will hereafter call this time the olden.”

The light in which was smiling my own treasure
    Which there I had discovered, flashed at first
    As in the sunshine doth a golden mirror;

Then made reply: “A conscience overcast
    Or with its own or with another’s shame,
    Will taste forsooth the tartness of thy word;

But ne’ertheless, all falsehood laid aside,
    Make manifest thy vision utterly,
    And let them scratch wherever is the itch;

For if thine utterance shall offensive be
    At the first taste, a vital nutriment
    ’Twill leave thereafter, when it is digested.

This cry of thine shall do as doth the wind,
    Which smiteth most the most exalted summits,
    And that is no slight argument of honour.

Therefore are shown to thee within these wheels,
    Upon the mount and in the dolorous valley,
    Only the souls that unto fame are known;

Because the spirit of the hearer rests not,
    Nor doth confirm its faith by an example
    Which has the root of it unknown and hidden,

Or other reason that is not apparent.”

Now was alone rejoicing in its word
    That soul beatified, and I was tasting
    My own, the bitter tempering with the sweet,

And the Lady who to God was leading me
    Said: “Change thy thought; consider that I am
    Near unto Him who every wrong disburdens.”

Unto the loving accents of my comfort
    I turned me round, and then what love I saw
    Within those holy eyes I here relinquish;

Not only that my language I distrust,
    But that my mind cannot return so far
    Above itself, unless another guide it.

Thus much upon that point can I repeat,
    That, her again beholding, my affection
    From every other longing was released.

While the eternal pleasure, which direct
    Rayed upon Beatrice, from her fair face
    Contented me with its reflected aspect,

Conquering me with the radiance of a smile,
    She said to me, “Turn thee about and listen;
    Not in mine eyes alone is Paradise.”

Even as sometimes here do we behold
    The affection in the look, if it be such
    That all the soul is wrapt away by it,

So, by the flaming of the effulgence holy
    To which I turned, I recognized therein
    The wish of speaking to me somewhat farther.

And it began: “In this fifth resting-place
    Upon the tree that liveth by its summit,
    And aye bears fruit, and never loses leaf,

Are blessed spirits that below, ere yet
    They came to Heaven, were of such great renown
    That every Muse therewith would affluent be.

Therefore look thou upon the cross’s horns;
    He whom I now shall name will there enact
    What doth within a cloud its own swift fire.”

I saw athwart the Cross a splendour drawn
    By naming Joshua, (even as he did it,)
    Nor noted I the word before the deed;

And at the name of the great Maccabee
    I saw another move itself revolving,
    And gladness was the whip unto that top.

Likewise for Charlemagne and for Orlando,
    Two of them my regard attentive followed
    As followeth the eye its falcon flying.

William thereafterward, and Renouard,
    And the Duke Godfrey, did attract my sight
    Along upon that Cross, and Robert Guiscard.

Then, moved and mingled with the other lights,
    The soul that had addressed me showed how great
    An artist ’twas among the heavenly singers.

To my right side I turned myself around,
    My duty to behold in Beatrice
    Either by words or gesture signified;

And so translucent I beheld her eyes,
    So full of pleasure, that her countenance
    Surpassed its other and its latest wont.

And as, by feeling greater delectation,
    A man in doing good from day to day
    Becomes aware his virtue is increasing,

So I became aware that my gyration
    With heaven together had increased its arc,
    That miracle beholding more adorned.

And such as is the change, in little lapse
    Of time, in a pale woman, when her face
    Is from the load of bashfulness unladen,

Such was it in mine eyes, when I had turned,
    Caused by the whiteness of the temperate star,
    The sixth, which to itself had gathered me.

Within that Jovial torch did I behold
    The sparkling of the love which was therein
    Delineate our language to mine eyes.

And even as birds uprisen from the shore,
    As in congratulation o’er their food,
    Make squadrons of themselves, now round, now long,

So from within those lights the holy creatures
    Sang flying to and fro, and in their figures
    Made of themselves now D, now I, now L.

First singing they to their own music moved;
    Then one becoming of these characters,
    A little while they rested and were silent.

O divine Pegasea, thou who genius
    Dost glorious make, and render it long-lived,
    And this through thee the cities and the kingdoms,

Illume me with thyself, that I may bring
    Their figures out as I have them conceived!
    Apparent be thy power in these brief verses!

Themselves then they displayed in five times seven
    Vowels and consonants; and I observed
    The parts as they seemed spoken unto me.

‘Diligite justitiam,’ these were
    First verb and noun of all that was depicted;
    ‘Qui judicatis terram’ were the last.

Thereafter in the M of the fifth word
    Remained they so arranged, that Jupiter
    Seemed to be silver there with gold inlaid.

And other lights I saw descend where was
    The summit of the M, and pause there singing
    The good, I think, that draws them to itself.

Then, as in striking upon burning logs
    Upward there fly innumerable sparks,
    Whence fools are wont to look for auguries,

More than a thousand lights seemed thence to rise,
    And to ascend, some more, and others less,
    Even as the Sun that lights them had allotted;

And, each one being quiet in its place,
    The head and neck beheld I of an eagle
    Delineated by that inlaid fire.

He who there paints has none to be his guide;
    But Himself guides; and is from Him remembered
    That virtue which is form unto the nest.

The other beatitude, that contented seemed
    At first to bloom a lily on the M,
    By a slight motion followed out the imprint.

O gentle star! what and how many gems
    Did demonstrate to me, that all our justice
    Effect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest!

Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which begin
    Thy motion and thy virtue, to regard
    Whence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays;

So that a second time it now be wroth
    With buying and with selling in the temple
    Whose walls were built with signs and martyrdoms!

O soldiery of heaven, whom I contemplate,
    Implore for those who are upon the earth
    All gone astray after the bad example!

Once ’twas the custom to make war with swords;
    But now ’tis made by taking here and there
    The bread the pitying Father shuts from none.

Yet thou, who writest but to cancel, think
    That Peter and that Paul, who for this vineyard
    Which thou art spoiling died, are still alive!

Well canst thou say: “So steadfast my desire
    Is unto him who willed to live alone,
    And for a dance was led to martyrdom,

That I know not the Fisherman nor Paul.”

Appeared before me with its wings outspread
    The beautiful image that in sweet fruition
    Made jubilant the interwoven souls;

Appeared a little ruby each, wherein
    Ray of the sun was burning so enkindled
    That each into mine eyes refracted it.

And what it now behoves me to retrace
    Nor voice has e’er reported, nor ink written,
    Nor was by fantasy e’er comprehended;

For speak I saw, and likewise heard, the beak,
    And utter with its voice both ‘I’ and ‘My,’
    When in conception it was ‘We’ and ‘Our.’

And it began: “Being just and merciful
    Am I exalted here unto that glory
    Which cannot be exceeded by desire;

And upon earth I left my memory
    Such, that the evil-minded people there
    Commend it, but continue not the story.”

So doth a single heat from many embers
    Make itself felt, even as from many loves
    Issued a single sound from out that image.

Whence I thereafter: “O perpetual flowers
    Of the eternal joy, that only one
    Make me perceive your odours manifold,

Exhaling, break within me the great fast
    Which a long season has in hunger held me,
    Not finding for it any food on earth.

Well do I know, that if in heaven its mirror
    Justice Divine another realm doth make,
    Yours apprehends it not through any veil.

You know how I attentively address me
    To listen; and you know what is the doubt
    That is in me so very old a fast.”

Even as a falcon, issuing from his hood,
    Doth move his head, and with his wings applaud him,
    Showing desire, and making himself fine,

Saw I become that standard, which of lauds
    Was interwoven of the grace divine,
    With such songs as he knows who there rejoices.

Then it began: “He who a compass turned
    On the world’s outer verge, and who within it
    Devised so much occult and manifest,

Could not the impress of his power so make
    On all the universe, as that his Word
    Should not remain in infinite excess.

And this makes certain that the first proud being,
    Who was the paragon of every creature,
    By not awaiting light fell immature.