The Vision of Dante Alighiere or Hell, Purgatory and Paradise Page 4

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 for
esight 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

  Approva1 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

  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

  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,