The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Paradise, Complete. Dante Alighieri

on to reach

       The good it apprehends. I well discern,

       How in thine intellect already shines

       The light eternal, which to view alone

       Ne'er fails to kindle love; and if aught else

       Your love seduces, 't is but that it shows

       Some ill-mark'd vestige of that primal beam.

       "This would'st thou know, if failure of the vow

       By other service may be so supplied,

       As from self-question to assure the soul."

       Thus she her words, not heedless of my wish,

       Began; and thus, as one who breaks not off

       Discourse, continued in her saintly strain.

       "Supreme of gifts, which God creating gave

       Of his free bounty, sign most evident

       Of goodness, and in his account most priz'd,

       Was liberty of will, the boon wherewith

       All intellectual creatures, and them sole

       He hath endow'd. Hence now thou mayst infer

       Of what high worth the vow, which so is fram'd

       That when man offers, God well-pleas'd accepts;

       For in the compact between God and him,

       This treasure, such as I describe it to thee,

       He makes the victim, and of his own act.

       What compensation therefore may he find?

       If that, whereof thou hast oblation made,

       By using well thou think'st to consecrate,

       Thou would'st of theft do charitable deed.

       Thus I resolve thee of the greater point.

       "But forasmuch as holy church, herein

       Dispensing, seems to contradict the truth

       I have discover'd to thee, yet behooves

       Thou rest a little longer at the board,

       Ere the crude aliment, which thou hast taken,

       Digested fitly to nutrition turn.

       Open thy mind to what I now unfold,

       And give it inward keeping. Knowledge comes

       Of learning well retain'd, unfruitful else.

       "This sacrifice in essence of two things

       Consisteth; one is that, whereof 't is made,

       The covenant the other. For the last,

       It ne'er is cancell'd if not kept: and hence

       I spake erewhile so strictly of its force.

       For this it was enjoin'd the Israelites,

       Though leave were giv'n them, as thou know'st, to change

       The offering, still to offer. Th' other part,

       The matter and the substance of the vow,

       May well be such, to that without offence

       It may for other substance be exchang'd.

       But at his own discretion none may shift

       The burden on his shoulders, unreleas'd

       By either key, the yellow and the white.

       Nor deem of any change, as less than vain,

       If the last bond be not within the new

       Included, as the quatre in the six.

       No satisfaction therefore can be paid

       For what so precious in the balance weighs,

       That all in counterpoise must kick the beam.

       Take then no vow at random: ta'en, with faith

       Preserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once,

       Blindly to execute a rash resolve,

       Whom better it had suited to exclaim,

       'I have done ill,' than to redeem his pledge

       By doing worse or, not unlike to him

       In folly, that great leader of the Greeks:

       Whence, on the alter, Iphigenia mourn'd

       Her virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn

       Both wise and simple, even all, who hear

       Of so fell sacrifice. Be ye more staid,

       O Christians, not, like feather, by each wind

       Removable: nor think to cleanse ourselves

       In every water. Either testament,

       The old and new, is yours: and for your guide

       The shepherd of the church let this suffice

       To save you. When by evil lust entic'd,

       Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts;

       Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets,

       Hold you in mock'ry. Be not, as the lamb,

       That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother's milk,

       To dally with itself in idle play."

       Such were the words that Beatrice spake:

       These ended, to that region, where the world

       Is liveliest, full of fond desire she turn'd.

       Though mainly prompt new question to propose,

       Her silence and chang'd look did keep me dumb.

       And as the arrow, ere the cord is still,

       Leapeth unto its mark; so on we sped

       Into the second realm. There I beheld

       The dame, so joyous enter, that the orb

       Grew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star

       Were mov'd to gladness, what then was my cheer,

       Whom nature hath made apt for every change!

       ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE

       As in a quiet and clear lake the fish,

       If aught approach them from without, do draw

       Towards it, deeming it their food; so drew

       Full more than thousand splendours towards us,

       And in each one was heard: "Lo! one arriv'd

       To multiply our loves!" and as each came

       The shadow, streaming forth effulgence new,

       Witness'd augmented joy. Here, reader! think,

       If thou didst miss the sequel of my tale,

       To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave;

       And thou shalt see what vehement desire

       Possess'd me, as soon as these had met my view,

       To know their state. "O born in happy hour!

       Thou to whom grace vouchsafes, or ere thy close

       Of fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones

       Of that eternal triumph, know to us

       The light communicated, which through heaven

       Expatiates without bound. Therefore, if aught

       Thou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid,

       Spare not; and of our radiance take thy fill."