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Dante Alighieri (1265–1321). The Divine Comedy.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Paradise

Canto XVIII ARGUMENT.—Dante sees the souls of many renowned warriors and crusaders in the planet Mars; and then ascends with Beatrice to Jupiter, the sixth heaven, in which he finds the souls of those who had administered justice rightly in the world, so disposed, as to form the figure of an eagle. The Canto concludes with an invective against the avarice of the clergy, and especially of the pope.

NOW in his word, sole, ruminating, joy’d

That blessed spiritand I fed on mine,

Tempering the sweet with bitter. She meanwhile,

Who led me unto God, admonish’d: “Muse

On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him

I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong.”

At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn’d;

And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,

I leave in silence here, nor through distrust

Of my words only, but that to such bliss

The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much

Yet may I speak; that, as I gazed on her,

Affection found no room for other wish.

While the everlasting pleasure, that did full

On Beatrice shine, with second view

From her fair countenance my gladden’d soul

Contended; vanquishing me with a beam

Of her soft smile, she spake: “Turn thee, and list.

These eyes are not thy only Paradise.”

As here, we sometimes in the looks may see

The affection mark’d, when that its sway hath ta’en

The spirit wholly; thus the hallow’d light,

To whom I turn’d, flashing, bewray’d its will

To talk yet further with me, and began:

“On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life

Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair

And leaf unwithering, blessed spirits abide,

That were below, ere they arrived in Heaven,

So mighty in renown, as every muse

Might grace her triumph with them. On the horns

Look, therefore, of the cross: he whom I name,

Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloud

Its nimble fire.” Along the cross I saw,

At the repeated name of Joshua,

A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,

Ere it was done: then, at the naming, saw,

Of the great Maccabee, another move

With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge

Unto that top. The next for Charlemain

And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze

Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues

A falcon flying. Last, along the cross,

William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew

My ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul

Who spake with me, among the other lights

Did move away, and mix; and with the quire

Of heavenly songsters proved his tuneful skill.

To Beatrice on my right I bent,

Looking for intimation, or by word

Or act, what next behoved; and did descry

Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,

It pass’d all former wont. And, as by sense

Of new delight, the man, who perseveres

In good deeds, doth perceive, from day to day,

His virtue growing; I e’en thus perceived,

Of my ascent, together with the Heaven,

The circuit widen’d; noting the increase

Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change

In a brief moment on some maiden’s cheek,

Which, from its fairness, doth discharge the weight

Of pudency, that stain’d it; such in her,

And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,

Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,

Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,

Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks

Of love, that reign’d there, fashion to my view

Our language. And as birds, from river banks

Arisen, now in round, now lengthen’d troop,

Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems

Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,

The saintly creatures flying, sang; and made

Now D, now I, now L, figured i’ the air

First singing to their notes they moved; then, one

Becoming of these signs, a little while

Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine

Of Pegasean race! who souls, which thou

Inspirest, makest glorious and long-lived, as they

Cities and realms by thee; thou with thyself

Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes,

As fancy doth present them: be thy power

Display’d in this brief song. The characters,

Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.

In order, each, as they appear’d, I mark’d.

Diligite Justitiam, the first,

Both verb and noun all blazon’d; and the extreme,

Qui judicatis terram. In the M

Of the fifth word they held their station;

Making the star seem silver streak’d with gold.

And on the summit of the M, I saw

Descending other lights, that rested there,

Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.

Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,

Sparkles innumerable on all sides

Rise scatter’d, source of augury to the unwise;

Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence

Seem’d reascending; and a higher pitch

Some mounting, and some less, e’en as the sun,

Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one

Had settled in his place; the head and neck

Then saw I of an eagle, livelily

Graved in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,

Hath none to guide Him: of Himself He guides:

And every line and texture of the nest

Doth own from Him the virtue fashions it.

The other bright beatitude, that seem’d

Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content

To over-canopy the M, moved forth,

Following gently the impress of the bird.

Sweet star; what glorious and thick-studded gems

Declared to me our justice on the earth

To be the effluence of that Heaven, which thou,

Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay.

Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom

Thy motion and thy virtue are begun,

That He would look from whence the fog doth rise,

To vitiate thy beam; so that once more

He may put forth his hand ’gainst such, as drive

Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls

With miracles and martyrdoms were built.

Ye host of Heaven, whose glory I survey!

O beg ye grace for those, that are, on earth,

All after ill example gone astray.

War once had for his instrument the sword:

But now ’tis made, taking the bread away,

Which the good Father locks from none.—And thou,

That writest but to cancel, think, that they,

Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,

Peter and Paul, live yet, and mark thy doings.

Thou hast good cause to cry, “My heart so cleaves

To him, that lived in solitude remote,

And for a dance was dragg’d to martyrdom,

I wist not of the Fisherman nor Paul.”