Incoronated with a second crown
Was through Honorius by the Eternal SpiritThe holy purpose of this Archimandrite.
And when he had, through thirst of martyrdom,In the proud presence of the Sultan preachedChrist and the others who came after him,
And, finding for conversion too unripeThe folk, and not to tarry there in vain,Returned to fruit of the Italic grass,
On the rude rock ’twixt Tiber and the ArnoFrom Christ did he receive the final seal,Which during two whole years his members bore.
When He, who chose him unto so much good,Was pleased to draw him up to the rewardThat he had merited by being lowly,
Unto his friars, as to the rightful heirs,His most dear Lady did he recommend,And bade that they should love her faithfully;
And from her bosom the illustrious soulWished to depart, returning to its realm,And for its body wished no other bier.
Think now what man was he, who was a fitCompanion over the high seas to keepThe bark of Peter to its proper bearings.
And this man was our Patriarch; hence whoeverDoth follow him as he commands can seeThat he is laden with good merchandise.
But for new pasturage his flock has grownSo greedy, that it is impossibleThey be not scattered over fields diverse;
And in proportion as his sheep remoteAnd vagabond go farther off from him,More void of milk return they to the fold.
Verily some there are that fear a hurt,And keep close to the shepherd; but so few,That little cloth doth furnish forth their hoods.
Now if my utterance be not indistinct,If thine own hearing hath attentive been,If thou recall to mind what I have said,
In part contented shall thy wishes be;For thou shalt see the plant that’s chipped away,And the rebuke that lieth in the words,
‘Where well one fattens, if he strayeth not.’”
Paradiso: Canto XII
Soon as the blessed flame had taken upThe final word to give it utterance,Began the holy millstone to revolve,
And in its gyre had not turned wholly round,Before another in a ring enclosed it,And motion joined to motion, song to song;
Song that as greatly doth transcend our Muses,Our Sirens, in those dulcet clarions,As primal splendour that which is reflected.
And as are spanned athwart a tender cloudTwo rainbows parallel and like in colour,When Juno to her handmaid gives command,
(The one without born of the one within,Like to the speaking of that vagrant oneWhom love consumed as doth the sun the vapours,)
And make the people here, through covenantGod set with Noah, presageful of the worldThat shall no more be covered with a flood,
In such wise of those sempiternal rosesThe garlands twain encompassed us about,And thus the outer to the inner answered.
After the dance, and other grand rejoicings,Both of the singing, and the flaming forthEffulgence with effulgence blithe and tender,
Together, at once, with one accord had stopped,(Even as the eyes, that, as volition moves them,Must needs together shut and lift themselves,)
Out of the heart of one of the new lightsThere came a voice, that needle to the starMade me appear in turning thitherward.
And it began: “The love that makes me fairDraws me to speak about the other leader,By whom so well is spoken here of mine.
’Tis right, where one is, to bring in the other,That, as they were united in their warfare,Together likewise may their glory shine.
The soldiery of Christ, which it had costSo dear to arm again, behind the standardMoved slow and doubtful and in numbers few,
When the Emperor who reigneth evermoreProvided for the host that was in peril,Through grace alone and not that it was worthy;
And, as was said, he to his Bride brought succourWith champions twain, at whose deed, at whose wordThe straggling people were together drawn.
Within that region where the sweet west windRises to open the new leaves, wherewithEurope is seen to clothe herself afresh,
Not far off from the beating of the waves,Behind which in his long career the sunSometimes conceals himself from every man,
Is situate the fortunate Calahorra,Under protection of the mighty shieldIn which the Lion subject is and sovereign.
Therein was born the amorous paramourOf Christian Faith, the athlete consecrate,Kind to his own and cruel to his foes;
And when it was created was his mindReplete with such a living energy,That in his mother her it made prophetic.
As soon as the espousals were completeBetween him and the Faith at holy font,Where they with mutual safety dowered each other,
The woman, who for him had given assent,Saw in a dream the admirable fruitThat issue would from him and from his heirs;
And that he might be construed as he was,A spirit from this place went forth to name himWith His possessive whose he wholly was.
Dominic was he called; and him I speak ofEven as of the husbandman whom ChristElected to his garden to assist him.
Envoy and servant sooth he seemed of Christ,For the first love made manifest in himWas the first counsel that was given by Christ.
Silent and wakeful many a time was heDiscovered by his nurse upon the ground,As if he would have said, ‘For this I came.’
O thou his father, Felix verily!O thou his mother, verily Joanna,If this, interpreted, means as is said!
Not for the world which people toil for nowIn following Ostiense and Taddeo,But through his longing after the true manna,
He in short time became so great a teacher,That he began to go about the vineyard,Which fadeth soon, if faithless be the dresser;
And of the See, (that once was more benignantUnto the righteous poor, not through itself,But him who sits there and degenerates,)
Not to dispense or two or three for six,Not any fortune of first vacancy,‘Non decimas quae sunt pauperum Dei,’
He asked for, but against the errant worldPermission to do battle for the seed,Of which these four and twenty plants surround thee.
Then with the doctrine and the will together,With office apostolical he moved,Like torrent which some lofty vein out-presses;
And in among the shoots hereticalHis impetus with greater fury smote,Wherever the resistance was the greatest.
Of him were made thereafter divers runnels,Whereby the garden catholic is watered,So that more living its plantations stand.
If such the one wheel of the Biga was,In which the Holy Church itself defendedAnd in the field its civic battle won,
Truly full manifest should be to theeThe excellence of the other, unto whomThomas so courteous was before my coming.
But still the orbit, which the highest partOf its circumference made, is derelict,So that the mould is where was once the crust.
His family, that had straight forward movedWith feet upon his footprints, are turned roundSo that they set the point upon the heel.
And soon aware they will be of the harvestOf this bad husbandry, when shall the taresComplain the granary is taken from them.
Yet say I, he who searcheth leaf by leafOur volume through, would still some page discoverWhere he could read, ‘I am as I am wont.’
’Twill not be from Casal nor Acquasparta,From whence come such unto the written wordThat one avoids it, and the other narrows.