The Divine Comedy - The Original Classic Edition. Dante Dante

And work on the foundation nature lays, It would not lack supply of excellence. But ye perversely to religion strain

       Him, who was born to gird on him the sword, And of the fluent phrasemen make your king; Therefore your steps have wander'd from the paths."

       CANTO IX

       After solution of my doubt, thy Charles, O fair Clemenza, of the treachery spake That must befall his seed: but, "Tell it not,"

       Said he, "and let the destin'd years come round." Nor may I tell thee more, save that the meed

       Of sorrow well-deserv'd shall quit your wrongs.

       And now the visage of that saintly light Was to the sun, that fills it, turn'd again, As to the good, whose plenitude of bliss

       Sufficeth all. O ye misguided souls!

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       Infatuate, who from such a good estrange Your hearts, and bend your gaze on vanity, Alas for you!--And lo! toward me, next,

       Another of those splendent forms approach'd,

       That, by its outward bright'ning, testified The will it had to pleasure me. The eyes Of Beatrice, resting, as before,

       Firmly upon me, manifested forth Approval of my wish. "And O," I cried, "Blest spirit! quickly be my will perform'd;

       And prove thou to me, that my inmost thoughts

       I can reflect on thee." Thereat the light, That yet was new to me, from the recess, Where it before was singing, thus began, As one who joys in kindness: "In that part Of the deprav'd Italian land, which lies Between Rialto, and the fountain-springs Of Brenta and of Piava, there doth rise, But to no lofty eminence, a hill,

       From whence erewhile a firebrand did descend,

       That sorely sheet the region. From one root I and it sprang; my name on earth Cunizza: And here I glitter, for that by its light

       This star o'ercame me. Yet I naught repine, Nor grudge myself the cause of this my lot, Which haply vulgar hearts can scarce conceive.

       "This jewel, that is next me in our heaven,

       Lustrous and costly, great renown hath left,

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       And not to perish, ere these hundred years Five times absolve their round. Consider thou, If to excel be worthy man's endeavour,

       When such life may attend the first. Yet they Care not for this, the crowd that now are girt By Adice and Tagliamento, still

       Impenitent, tho' scourg'd. The hour is near, When for their stubbornness at Padua's marsh The water shall be chang'd, that laves Vicena And where Cagnano meets with Sile, one Lords it, and bears his head aloft, for whom The web is now a-warping. Feltro too

       Shall sorrow for its godless shepherd's fault, Of so deep stain, that never, for the like,

       Was Malta's bar unclos'd. Too large should be

       The skillet, that would hold Ferrara's blood,

       And wearied he, who ounce by ounce would weight it, The which this priest, in show of party-zeal, Courteous will give; nor will the gift ill suit

       The country's custom. We descry above, Mirrors, ye call them thrones, from which to us Reflected shine the judgments of our God: Whence these our sayings we avouch for good."

       She ended, and appear'd on other thoughts

       Intent, re-ent'ring on the wheel she late

       Had left. That other joyance meanwhile wax'd

       A thing to marvel at, in splendour glowing,

       Like choicest ruby stricken by the sun,

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       For, in that upper clime, effulgence comes

       Of gladness, as here laughter: and below,

       As the mind saddens, murkier grows the shade.

       "God seeth all: and in him is thy sight," Said I, "blest Spirit! Therefore will of his Cannot to thee be dark. Why then delays Thy voice to satisfy my wish untold,

       That voice which joins the inexpressive song, Pastime of heav'n, the which those ardours sing,

       That cowl them with six shadowing wings outspread? I would not wait thy asking, wert thou known

       To me, as thoroughly I to thee am known."

       He forthwith answ'ring, thus his words began: "The valley' of waters, widest next to that

       Which doth the earth engarland, shapes its course, Between discordant shores, against the sun

       Inward so far, it makes meridian there, Where was before th' horizon. Of that vale Dwelt I upon the shore, 'twixt Ebro's stream And Macra's, that divides with passage brief Genoan bounds from Tuscan. East and west Are nearly one to Begga and my land,

       Whose haven erst was with its own blood warm. Who knew my name were wont to call me Folco: And I did bear impression of this heav'n,

       That now bears mine: for not with fiercer flame

       Glow'd Belus' daughter, injuring alike

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       Sichaeus and Creusa, than did I, Long as it suited the unripen'd down

       That fledg'd my cheek: nor she of Rhodope,

       That was beguiled of Demophoon;

       Nor Jove's son, when the charms of Iole

       Were shrin'd within his heart. And yet there hides

       No sorrowful repentance here, but mirth,

       Not for the fault (that doth not come to mind), But for the virtue, whose o'erruling sway

       And providence have wrought thus quaintly. Here

       The skill is look'd into, that fashioneth With such effectual working, and the good Discern'd, accruing to this upper world From that below. But fully to content

       Thy wishes, all that in this sphere have birth, Demands my further parle. Inquire thou wouldst, Who of this light is denizen, that here

       Beside me sparkles, as the sunbeam doth

       On the clear wave. Know then, the soul of Rahab

       Is in that gladsome harbour, to our tribe

       United, and the foremost rank assign'd.

       He to that heav'n, at which the shadow ends

       Of your sublunar world, was taken up,

       First, in Christ's triumph, of all souls redeem'd: For well behoov'd, that, in some part of heav'n, She should remain a trophy, to declare

       The mighty contest won with either palm;

       For that she favour'd first the high exploit

       Of Joshua on the holy land, whereof

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       The Pope recks little now. Thy city, plant

       Of him, that on his Maker turn'd the back,

       And of whose envying so much woe hath sprung,

       Engenders and expands the cursed flower,

       That hath made wander both the sheep and lambs, Turning the shepherd to a wolf. For this,

       The gospel and great teachers laid aside, The decretals, as their stuft margins show, Are the sole study. Pope and Cardinals,

       Intent on these, ne'er journey but in thought To Nazareth, where Gabriel op'd his wings. Yet it may chance, erelong, the Vatican,

       And other most selected parts of Rome, That were the grave of Peter's soldiery,

       Shall be deliver'd from the adult'rous bond."

       CANTO X

       Looking into his first-born with the love,

       Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might

       Ineffable, whence eye or mind

       Can roam, hath in such order all dispos'd,

       As none may see and fail to enjoy.