The Divine Comedy - The Original Classic Edition. Dante Dante

Raise, then, O reader! to the lofty wheels, with me,

       Thy ken directed to the point, whereat

       One motion strikes on th' other. There begin

       52

       Thy wonder of the mighty Architect, Who loves his work so inwardly, his eye Doth ever watch it. See, how thence oblique Brancheth the circle, where the planets roll

       To pour their wished influence on the world; Whose path not bending thus, in heav'n above Much virtue would be lost, and here on earth, All power well nigh extinct: or, from direct Were its departure distant more or less,

       I' th' universal order, great defect

       Must, both in heav'n and here beneath, ensue.

       Now rest thee, reader! on thy bench, and muse

       Anticipative of the feast to come;

       So shall delight make thee not feel thy toil. Lo! I have set before thee, for thyself

       Feed now: the matter I indite, henceforth Demands entire my thought. Join'd with the part, Which late we told of, the great minister

       Of nature, that upon the world imprints The virtue of the heaven, and doles out Time for us with his beam, went circling on

       Along the spires, where each hour sooner comes; And I was with him, weetless of ascent,

       As one, who till arriv'd, weets not his coming.

       For Beatrice, she who passeth on

       So suddenly from good to better, time

       Counts not the act, oh then how great must needs

       53

       Have been her brightness! What she was i' th' sun (Where I had enter'd), not through change of hue, But light transparent--did I summon up

       Genius, art, practice--I might not so speak, It should be e'er imagin'd: yet believ'd

       It may be, and the sight be justly crav'd. And if our fantasy fail of such height, What marvel, since no eye above the sun

       Hath ever travel'd? Such are they dwell here, Fourth family of the Omnipotent Sire,

       Who of his spirit and of his offspring shows; And holds them still enraptur'd with the view. And thus to me Beatrice: "Thank, oh thank, The Sun of angels, him, who by his grace

       To this perceptible hath lifted thee."

       Never was heart in such devotion bound, And with complacency so absolute Dispos'd to render up itself to God,

       As mine was at those words: and so entire The love for Him, that held me, it eclips'd Beatrice in oblivion. Naught displeas'd Was she, but smil'd thereat so joyously,

       That of her laughing eyes the radiance brake

       And scatter'd my collected mind abroad.

       Then saw I a bright band, in liveliness

       Surpassing, who themselves did make the crown,

       And us their centre: yet more sweet in voice,

       54

       Than in their visage beaming. Cinctur'd thus, Sometime Latona's daughter we behold, When the impregnate air retains the thread, That weaves her zone. In the celestial court, Whence I return, are many jewels found,

       So dear and beautiful, they cannot brook Transporting from that realm: and of these lights Such was the song. Who doth not prune his wing To soar up thither, let him look from thence

       For tidings from the dumb. When, singing thus, Those burning suns that circled round us thrice, As nearest stars around the fixed pole,

       Then seem'd they like to ladies, from the dance Not ceasing, but suspense, in silent pause, List'ning, till they have caught the strain anew: Suspended so they stood: and, from within,

       Thus heard I one, who spake: "Since with its beam The grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame, That after doth increase by loving, shines

       So multiplied in thee, it leads thee up

       Along this ladder, down whose hallow'd steps None e'er descend, and mount them not again, Who from his phial should refuse thee wine

       To slake thy thirst, no less constrained were,

       Than water flowing not unto the sea.

       Thou fain wouldst hear, what plants are these, that bloom

       In the bright garland, which, admiring, girds

       This fair dame round, who strengthens thee for heav'n.

       I then was of the lambs, that Dominic

       55

       Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way, Where well they thrive, not sworn with vanity. He, nearest on my right hand, brother was, And master to me: Albert of Cologne

       Is this: and of Aquinum, Thomas I.

       If thou of all the rest wouldst be assur'd, Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak, In circuit journey round the blessed wreath. That next resplendence issues from the smile Of Gratian, who to either forum lent

       Such help, as favour wins in Paradise.

       The other, nearest, who adorns our quire, Was Peter, he that with the widow gave

       To holy church his treasure. The fifth light,

       Goodliest of all, is by such love inspired,

       That all your world craves tidings of its doom: Within, there is the lofty light, endow'd

       With sapience so profound, if truth be truth, That with a ken of such wide amplitude

       No second hath arisen. Next behold

       That taper's radiance, to whose view was shown, Clearliest, the nature and the ministry

       Angelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt. In the other little light serenely smiles That pleader for the Christian temples, he Who did provide Augustin of his lore.

       Now, if thy mind's eye pass from light to light,

       Upon my praises following, of the eighth

       Thy thirst is next. The saintly soul, that shows

       56

       The world's deceitfulness, to all who hear him, Is, with the sight of all the good, that is,

       Blest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, lie

       Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom And exile came it here. Lo! further on, Where flames the arduous Spirit of Isidore,

       Of Bede, and Richard, more than man, erewhile, In deep discernment. Lastly this, from whom

       Thy look on me reverteth, was the beam

       Of one, whose spirit, on high musings bent, Rebuk'd the ling'ring tardiness of death.

       It is the eternal light of Sigebert,

       Who 'scap'd not envy, when of truth he argued, Reading in the straw-litter'd street." Forthwith, As clock, that calleth up the spouse of God

       To win her bridegroom's love at matin's hour, Each part of other fitly drawn and urg'd, Sends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet, Affection springs in well-disposed breast;

       Thus saw I move the glorious wheel, thus heard

       Voice answ'ring voice, so musical and soft,

       It can be known but where day endless shines.

       CANTO XI

       O fond anxiety of mortal men!

       57

       How vain and inconclusive arguments

       Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below

       For statues one, and one for aphorisms

       Was hunting; this the priesthood follow'd, that

       By force or sophistry aspir'd to rule; To rob another, and another sought

       By civil business wealth; one moiling lay

       Tangled in net of sensual delight,

       And one to