The Divine Comedy - 17

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!
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.”
Thus of those piteous spirits one bespake me;
And Beatrice next: “Say on; and trust
As unto gods!”—“How in the light supreme
Thou harbour’st, and from thence the virtue bring’st,
That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy,
l mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek;
Or wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot
This sphere assign’d, that oft from mortal ken
Is veil’d by others’ beams.” I said, and turn’d
Toward the lustre, that with greeting, kind
Erewhile had hail’d me. Forthwith brighter far
Than erst, it wax’d: and, as himself the sun
Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze
Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey’d;
Within its proper ray the saintly shape
Was, through increase of gladness, thus conceal’d;
And, shrouded so in splendour answer’d me,
E’en as the tenour of my song declares.


CANTO VI

“After that Constantine the eagle turn’d
Against the motions of the heav’n, that roll’d
Consenting with its course, when he of yore,
Lavinia’s spouse, was leader of the flight,
A hundred years twice told and more, his seat
At Europe’s extreme point, the bird of Jove
Held, near the mountains, whence he issued first.
There, under shadow of his sacred plumes
Swaying the world, till through successive hands
To mine he came devolv’d. Caesar I was,
And am Justinian; destin’d by the will
Of that prime love, whose influence I feel,
From vain excess to clear th’ encumber’d laws.
Or ere that work engag’d me, I did hold
Christ’s nature merely human, with such faith
Contented. But the blessed Agapete,
Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice
To the true faith recall’d me. I believ’d
His words: and what he taught, now plainly see,
As thou in every contradiction seest
The true and false oppos’d. Soon as my feet
Were to the church reclaim’d, to my great task,
By inspiration of God’s grace impell’d,
I gave me wholly, and consign’d mine arms
To Belisarius, with whom heaven’s right hand
Was link’d in such conjointment, ’t was a sign
That I should rest. To thy first question thus
I shape mine answer, which were ended here,
But that its tendency doth prompt perforce
To some addition; that thou well, mayst mark
What reason on each side they have to plead,
By whom that holiest banner is withstood,
Both who pretend its power and who oppose.
“Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died
To give it rule, behold the valorous deeds
Have made it worthy reverence. Not unknown
To thee, how for three hundred years and more
It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists
Where for its sake were met the rival three;
Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev’d
Down to the Sabines’ wrong to Lucrece’ woe,
With its sev’n kings conqu’ring the nation round;
Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home
’Gainst Brennus and th’ Epirot prince, and hosts
Of single chiefs, or states in league combin’d
Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern,
And Quintius nam’d of his neglected locks,
The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir’d
Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm.
By it the pride of Arab hordes was quell’d,
When they led on by Hannibal o’erpass’d
The Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po!
Beneath its guidance, in their prime of days
Scipio and Pompey triumph’d; and that hill,
Under whose summit thou didst see the light,
Rued its stern bearing. After, near the hour,
When heav’n was minded that o’er all the world
His own deep calm should brood, to Caesar’s hand
Did Rome consign it; and what then it wrought
From Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere’s flood,
Saw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills
The torrent Rhone. What after that it wrought,
When from Ravenna it came forth, and leap’d
The Rubicon, was of so bold a flight,
That tongue nor pen may follow it. Tow’rds Spain
It wheel’d its bands, then tow’rd Dyrrachium smote,
And on Pharsalia with so fierce a plunge,
E’en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang;
Its native shores Antandros, and the streams
Of Simois revisited, and there
Where Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy
His pennons shook again; lightning thence fell
On Juba; and the next upon your west,
At sound of the Pompeian trump, return’d.
“What following and in its next bearer’s gripe
It wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus
Bark’d off in hell, and by Perugia’s sons
And Modena’s was mourn’d. Hence weepeth still
Sad Cleopatra, who, pursued by it,
Took from the adder black and sudden death.
With him it ran e’en to the Red Sea coast;
With him compos’d the world to such a peace,
That of his temple Janus barr’d the door.
“But all the mighty standard yet had wrought,
And was appointed to perform thereafter,
Throughout the mortal kingdom which it sway’d,
Falls in appearance dwindled and obscur’d,
If one with steady eye and perfect thought
On the third Caesar look; for to his hands,
The living Justice, in whose breath I move,
Committed glory, e’en into his hands,
To execute the vengeance of its wrath.
“Hear now and wonder at what next I tell.
After with Titus it was sent to wreak
Vengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin,
And, when the Lombard tooth, with fangs impure,
Did gore the bosom of the holy church,
Under its wings victorious, Charlemagne
Sped to her rescue. Judge then for thyself
Of those, whom I erewhile accus’d to thee,
What they are, and how grievous their offending,
Who are the cause of all your ills. The one
Against the universal ensign rears
The yellow lilies, and with partial aim
That to himself the other arrogates:
So that ’t is hard to see which more offends.
Be yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your arts
Beneath another standard: ill is this
Follow’d of him, who severs it and justice:
And let not with his Guelphs the new-crown’d Charles
Assail it, but those talons hold in dread,
Which from a lion of more lofty port
Have rent the easing. Many a time ere now
The sons have for the sire’s transgression wail’d;
Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav’n
Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.
“This little star is furnish’d with good spirits,
Whose mortal lives were busied to that end,
That honour and renown might wait on them:
And, when desires thus err in their intention,
True love must needs ascend with slacker beam.
But it is part of our delight, to measure
Our wages with the merit; and admire
The close proportion. Hence doth heav’nly justice
Temper so evenly affection in us,
It ne’er can warp to any wrongfulness.
Of diverse voices is sweet music made:
So in our life the different degrees
Render sweet harmony among these wheels.
“Within the pearl, that now encloseth us,
Shines Romeo’s light, whose goodly deed and fair
Met ill acceptance. But the Provencals,
That were his foes, have little cause for mirth.
Ill shapes that man his course, who makes his wrong
Of other’s worth. Four daughters were there born
To Raymond Berenger, and every one
Became a queen; and this for him did Romeo,
Though of mean state and from a foreign land.
Yet envious tongues incited him to ask
A reckoning of that just one, who return’d
Twelve fold to him for ten. Aged and poor
He parted thence: and if the world did know
The heart he had, begging his life by morsels,
’T would deem the praise, it yields him, scantly dealt.”


CANTO VII

“Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth
Superillustrans claritate tua
Felices ignes horum malahoth!”
Thus chanting saw I turn that substance bright
With fourfold lustre to its orb again,
Revolving; and the rest unto their dance
With it mov’d also; and like swiftest sparks,
In sudden distance from my sight were veil’d.
Me doubt possess’d, and “Speak,” it whisper’d me,
“Speak, speak unto thy lady, that she quench
Thy thirst with drops of sweetness.” Yet blank awe,
Which lords it o’er me, even at the sound
Of Beatrice’s name, did bow me down
As one in slumber held. Not long that mood
Beatrice suffer’d: she, with such a smile,
As might have made one blest amid the flames,
Beaming upon me, thus her words began:
“Thou in thy thought art pond’ring (as I deem),
And what I deem is truth how just revenge
Could be with justice punish’d: from which doubt
I soon will free thee; so thou mark my words;
For they of weighty matter shall possess thee.
“That man, who was unborn, himself condemn’d,
And, in himself, all, who since him have liv’d,
His offspring: whence, below, the human kind
Lay sick in grievous error many an age;
Until it pleas’d the Word of God to come
Amongst them down, to his own person joining
The nature, from its Maker far estrang’d,
By the mere act of his eternal love.
Contemplate here the wonder I unfold.
The nature with its Maker thus conjoin’d,
Created first was blameless, pure and good;
But through itself alone was driven forth
From Paradise, because it had eschew’d
The way of truth and life, to evil turn’d.
Ne’er then was penalty so just as that
Inflicted by the cross, if thou regard
The nature in assumption doom’d: ne’er wrong
So great, in reference to him, who took
Such nature on him, and endur’d the doom.
God therefore and the Jews one sentence pleased:
So different effects flow’d from one act,
And heav’n was open’d, though the earth did quake.
Count it not hard henceforth, when thou dost hear
That a just vengeance was by righteous court
Justly reveng’d. But yet I see thy mind
By thought on thought arising sore perplex’d,
And with how vehement desire it asks
Solution of the maze. What I have heard,
Is plain, thou sayst: but wherefore God this way
For our redemption chose, eludes my search.
“Brother! no eye of man not perfected,
Nor fully ripen’d in the flame of love,
May fathom this decree. It is a mark,
In sooth, much aim’d at, and but little kenn’d:
And I will therefore show thee why such way
Was worthiest. The celestial love, that spume
All envying in its bounty, in itself
With such effulgence blazeth, as sends forth
All beauteous things eternal. What distils
Immediate thence, no end of being knows,
Bearing its seal immutably impress’d.
Whatever thence immediate falls, is free,
Free wholly, uncontrollable by power
Of each thing new: by such conformity
More grateful to its author, whose bright beams,
Though all partake their shining, yet in those
Are liveliest, which resemble him the most.
These tokens of pre-eminence on man
Largely bestow’d, if any of them fail,
He needs must forfeit his nobility,
No longer stainless. Sin alone is that,
Which doth disfranchise him, and make unlike
To the chief good; for that its light in him
Is darken’d. And to dignity thus lost
Is no return; unless, where guilt makes void,
He for ill pleasure pay with equal pain.
Your nature, which entirely in its seed
Trangress’d, from these distinctions fell, no less
Than from its state in Paradise; nor means
Found of recovery (search all methods out
As strickly as thou may) save one of these,
The only fords were left through which to wade,
Either that God had of his courtesy
Releas’d him merely, or else man himself
For his own folly by himself aton’d.
“Fix now thine eye, intently as thou canst,
On th’ everlasting counsel, and explore,
Instructed by my words, the dread abyss.
“Man in himself had ever lack’d the means
Of satisfaction, for he could not stoop
Obeying, in humility so low,
As high he, disobeying, thought to soar:
And for this reason he had vainly tried
Out of his own sufficiency to pay
The rigid satisfaction. Then behooved
That God should by his own ways lead him back
Unto the life, from whence he fell, restor’d:
By both his ways, I mean, or one alone.
But since the deed is ever priz’d the more,
The more the doer’s good intent appears,
Goodness celestial, whose broad signature
Is on the universe, of all its ways
To raise ye up, was fain to leave out none,
Nor aught so vast or so magnificent,
Either for him who gave or who receiv’d
Between the last night and the primal day,
Was or can be. For God more bounty show’d.
Giving himself to make man capable
Of his return to life, than had the terms
Been mere and unconditional release.
And for his justice, every method else
Were all too scant, had not the Son of God
Humbled himself to put on mortal flesh.
“Now, to fulfil each wish of thine, remains
I somewhat further to thy view unfold.
That thou mayst see as clearly as myself.
“I see, thou sayst, the air, the fire I see,
The earth and water, and all things of them
Compounded, to corruption turn, and soon
Dissolve. Yet these were also things create,
Because, if what were told me, had been true
They from corruption had been therefore free.
“The angels, O my brother! and this clime
Wherein thou art, impassible and pure,
I call created, as indeed they are
In their whole being. But the elements,
Which thou hast nam’d, and what of them is made,
Are by created virtue’ inform’d: create
Their substance, and create the’ informing virtue
In these bright stars, that round them circling move
The soul of every brute and of each plant,
The ray and motion of the sacred lights,
With complex potency attract and turn.
But this our life the’ eternal good inspires
Immediate, and enamours of itself;
So that our wishes rest for ever here.
“And hence thou mayst by inference conclude
Our resurrection certain, if thy mind
Consider how the human flesh was fram’d,
When both our parents at the first were made.”


CANTO VIII

The world was in its day of peril dark
Wont to believe the dotage of fond love
From the fair Cyprian deity, who rolls
In her third epicycle, shed on men
By stream of potent radiance: therefore they
Of elder time, in their old error blind,
Not her alone with sacrifice ador’d
And invocation, but like honours paid
To Cupid and Dione, deem’d of them
Her mother, and her son, him whom they feign’d
To sit in Dido’s bosom: and from her,
Whom I have sung preluding, borrow’d they
The appellation of that star, which views,
Now obvious and now averse, the sun.
I was not ware that I was wafted up
Into its orb; but the new loveliness
That grac’d my lady, gave me ample proof
That we had entered there. And as in flame
A sparkle is distinct, or voice in voice
Discern’d, when one its even tenour keeps,
The other comes and goes; so in that light
I other luminaries saw, that cours’d
In circling motion rapid more or less,
As their eternal phases each impels.
Never was blast from vapour charged with cold,
Whether invisible to eye or no,
Descended with such speed, it had not seem’d
To linger in dull tardiness, compar’d
To those celestial lights, that tow’rds us came,
Leaving the circuit of their joyous ring,
Conducted by the lofty seraphim.
And after them, who in the van appear’d,
Such an hosanna sounded, as hath left
Desire, ne’er since extinct in me, to hear
Renew’d the strain. Then parting from the rest
One near us drew, and sole began: “We all
Are ready at thy pleasure, well dispos’d
To do thee gentle service. We are they,
To whom thou in the world erewhile didst Sing
‘O ye! whose intellectual ministry
Moves the third heaven!’ and in one orb we roll,
One motion, one impulse, with those who rule
Princedoms in heaven; yet are of love so full,
That to please thee ’t will be as sweet to rest.”
After mine eyes had with meek reverence
Sought the celestial guide, and were by her
Assur’d, they turn’d again unto the light
Who had so largely promis’d, and with voice
That bare the lively pressure of my zeal,
“Tell who ye are,” I cried. Forthwith it grew
In size and splendour, through augmented joy;
And thus it answer’d: “A short date below
The world possess’d me. Had the time been more,
Much evil, that will come, had never chanc’d.
My gladness hides thee from me, which doth shine
Around, and shroud me, as an animal
In its own silk unswath’d. Thou lov’dst me well,
And had’st good cause; for had my sojourning
Been longer on the earth, the love I bare thee
Had put forth more than blossoms. The left bank,
That Rhone, when he hath mix’d with Sorga, laves.”
“In me its lord expected, and that horn
Of fair Ausonia, with its boroughs old,
Bari, and Croton, and Gaeta pil’d,
From where the Trento disembogues his waves,
With Verde mingled, to the salt sea-flood.
Already on my temples beam’d the crown,
Which gave me sov’reignty over the land
By Danube wash’d, whenas he strays beyond
The limits of his German shores. The realm,
Where, on the gulf by stormy Eurus lash’d,
Betwixt Pelorus and Pachynian heights,
The beautiful Trinacria lies in gloom
(Not through Typhaeus, but the vap’ry cloud
Bituminous upsteam’d), THAT too did look
To have its scepter wielded by a race
Of monarchs, sprung through me from Charles and Rodolph;
had not ill lording which doth spirit up
The people ever, in Palermo rais’d
The shout of ‘death,’ re-echo’d loud and long.
Had but my brother’s foresight kenn’d as much,
He had been warier that the greedy want
Of Catalonia might not work his bale.
And truly need there is, that he forecast,
Or other for him, lest more freight be laid
On his already over-laden bark.
Nature in him, from bounty fall’n to thrift,
Would ask the guard of braver arms, than such
As only care to have their coffers fill’d.”
“My liege, it doth enhance the joy thy words
Infuse into me, mighty as it is,
To think my gladness manifest to thee,
As to myself, who own it, when thou lookst
Into the source and limit of all good,
There, where thou markest that which thou dost speak,
Thence priz’d of me the more. Glad thou hast made me.
Now make intelligent, clearing the doubt
Thy speech hath raised in me; for much I muse,
How bitter can spring up, when sweet is sown.”
I thus inquiring; he forthwith replied:
“If I have power to show one truth, soon that
Shall face thee, which thy questioning declares
Behind thee now conceal’d. The Good, that guides
And blessed makes this realm, which thou dost mount,
Ordains its providence to be the virtue
In these great bodies: nor th’ all perfect Mind
Upholds their nature merely, but in them
Their energy to save: for nought, that lies
Within the range of that unerring bow,
But is as level with the destin’d aim,
As ever mark to arrow’s point oppos’d.
Were it not thus, these heavens, thou dost visit,
Would their effect so work, it would not be
Art, but destruction; and this may not chance,
If th’ intellectual powers, that move these stars,
Fail not, or who, first faulty made them fail.
Wilt thou this truth more clearly evidenc’d?”
To whom I thus: “It is enough: no fear,
I see, lest nature in her part should tire.”
He straight rejoin’d: “Say, were it worse for man,
If he liv’d not in fellowship on earth?”
“Yea,” answer’d I; “nor here a reason needs.”
“And may that be, if different estates
Grow not of different duties in your life?
Consult your teacher, and he tells you ‘no’.”
Thus did he come, deducing to this point,
And then concluded: “For this cause behooves,
The roots, from whence your operations come,
Must differ. Therefore one is Solon born;
Another, Xerxes; and Melchisidec
A third; and he a fourth, whose airy voyage
Cost him his son. In her circuitous course,
Nature, that is the seal to mortal wax,
Doth well her art, but no distinctions owns
’Twixt one or other household. Hence befalls
That Esau is so wide of Jacob: hence
Quirinus of so base a father springs,
He dates from Mars his lineage. Were it not
That providence celestial overrul’d,
Nature, in generation, must the path
Trac’d by the generator, still pursue
Unswervingly. Thus place I in thy sight
That, which was late behind thee. But, in sign
Of more affection for thee, ’t is my will
Thou wear this corollary. Nature ever
Finding discordant fortune, like all seed
Out of its proper climate, thrives but ill.
And were the world below content to mark
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!
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,
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,
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
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 sun-beam 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
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. 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