Whate’er from this immediately distils

Has afterwards no end, for ne’er removedIs its impression when it sets its seal.

Whate’er from this immediately rains downIs wholly free, because it is not subjectUnto the influences of novel things.

The more conformed thereto, the more it pleases;For the blest ardour that irradiates all thingsIn that most like itself is most vivacious.

With all of these things has advantaged beenThe human creature; and if one be wanting,From his nobility he needs must fall.

’Tis sin alone which doth disfranchise him,And render him unlike the Good Supreme,So that he little with its light is blanched,

And to his dignity no more returns,Unless he fill up where transgression emptiesWith righteous pains for criminal delights.

Your nature when it sinned so utterlyIn its own seed, out of these dignitiesEven as out of Paradise was driven,

Nor could itself recover, if thou notestWith nicest subtilty, by any way,Except by passing one of these two fords:

Either that God through clemency aloneHad pardon granted, or that man himselfHad satisfaction for his folly made.

Fix now thine eye deep into the abyssOf the eternal counsel, to my speechAs far as may be fastened steadfastly!

Man in his limitations had not powerTo satisfy, not having power to sinkIn his humility obeying then,

Far as he disobeying thought to rise;And for this reason man has been from powerOf satisfying by himself excluded.

Therefore it God behoved in his own waysMan to restore unto his perfect life,I say in one, or else in both of them.

But since the action of the doer isSo much more grateful, as it more presentsThe goodness of the heart from which it issues,

Goodness Divine, that doth imprint the world,Has been contented to proceed by eachAnd all its ways to lift you up again;

Nor ’twixt the first day and the final nightSuch high and such magnificent proceedingBy one or by the other was or shall be;

For God more bounteous was himself to giveTo make man able to uplift himself,Than if he only of himself had pardoned;

And all the other modes were insufficientFor justice, were it not the Son of GodHimself had humbled to become incarnate.

Now, to fill fully each desire of thine,Return I to elucidate one place,In order that thou there mayst see as I do.

Thou sayst: ‘I see the air, I see the fire,The water, and the earth, and all their mixturesCome to corruption, and short while endure;

And these things notwithstanding were created;’Therefore if that which I have said were true,They should have been secure against corruption.

The Angels, brother, and the land sincereIn which thou art, created may be calledJust as they are in their entire existence;

But all the elements which thou hast named,And all those things which out of them are made,By a created virtue are informed.

Created was the matter which they have;Created was the informing influenceWithin these stars that round about them go.

The soul of every brute and of the plantsBy its potential temperament attractsThe ray and motion of the holy lights;

But your own life immediately inspiresSupreme Beneficence, and enamours itSo with herself, it evermore desires her.

And thou from this mayst argue furthermoreYour resurrection, if thou think againHow human flesh was fashioned at that time

When the first parents both of them were made.”

Paradiso: Canto VIII

The world used in its peril to believeThat the fair Cypria delirious loveRayed out, in the third epicycle turning;

Wherefore not only unto her paid honourOf sacrifices and of votive cryThe ancient nations in the ancient error,

But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,That as her mother, this one as her son,And said that he had sat in Dido’s lap;

And they from her, whence I beginning take,Took the denomination of the starThat woos the sun, now following, now in front.

I was not ware of our ascending to it;But of our being in it gave full faithMy Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.

And as within a flame a spark is seen,And as within a voice a voice discerned,When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,

Within that light beheld I other lampsMove in a circle, speeding more and less,Methinks in measure of their inward vision.

From a cold cloud descended never winds,Or visible or not, so rapidlyThey would not laggard and impeded seem

To any one who had those lights divineSeen come towards us, leaving the gyrationBegun at first in the high Seraphim.

And behind those that most in front appearedSounded “Osanna!” so that never sinceTo hear again was I without desire.

Then unto us more nearly one approached,And it alone began: “We all are readyUnto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.

We turn around with the celestial Princes,One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,To whom thou in the world of old didst say,

‘Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;’And are so full of love, to pleasure theeA little quiet will not be less sweet.”

After these eyes of mine themselves had offeredUnto my Lady reverently, and sheContent and certain of herself had made them,

Back to the light they turned, which so great promiseMade of itself, and “Say, who art thou?” wasMy voice, imprinted with a great affection.

O how and how much I beheld it growWith the new joy that superadded wasUnto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!

Thus changed, it said to me: “The world possessed meShort time below; and, if it had been more,Much evil will be which would not have been.

My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide meLike as a creature swathed in its own silk.

Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;For had I been below, I should have shown theeSomewhat beyond the foliage of my love.

That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itselfIn Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,Me for its lord awaited in due time,

And that horn of Ausonia, which is townedWith Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.

Already flashed upon my brow the crownOf that dominion which the Danube watersAfter the German borders it abandons;

And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky’Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulfWhich greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)

Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,Would have awaited her own monarchs still,Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,

If evil lordship, that exasperates everThe subject populations, had not movedPalermo to the outcry of ‘Death! death!’

And if my brother could but this foresee,The greedy poverty of CataloniaStraight would he flee, that it might not molest him;

For verily ’tis needful to provide,Through him or other, so that on his barkAlready freighted no more freight be placed.

His nature, which from liberal covetousDescended, such a soldiery would needAs should not care for hoarding in a chest.”

“Because I do believe the lofty joyThy speech infuses into me, my Lord,Where every good thing doth begin and end

Thou seest as I see it, the more gratefulIs it to me; and this too hold I dear,That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.

Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth.”

This I to him; and he to me: “If ICan show to thee a truth, to what thou askestThy face thou’lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.

The Good which all the realm thou art ascendingTurns and contents, maketh its providenceTo be a power within these bodies vast;

And not alone the natures are foreseenWithin the mind that in itself is perfect,But they together with their preservation.

For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forthFalls foreordained unto an end foreseen,Even as a shaft directed to its mark.

If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walkWould in such manner its effects produce,That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.

This cannot be, if the IntelligencesThat keep these stars in motion are not maimed,And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.

Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?”And I: “Not so; for ’tis impossibleThat nature tire, I see, in what is needful.”

Whence he again: “Now say, would it be worseFor men on earth were they not citizens?”“Yes,” I replied; “and here I ask no reason.”

“And can they be so, if below they live notDiversely unto offices diverse?No, if your master writeth well for you.”

So came he with deductions to this point;Then he concluded: “Therefore it behovesThe roots of your effects to be diverse.

Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,Another Melchisedec, and another heWho, flying through the air, his son did lose.

Revolving Nature, which a signet isTo mortal wax, doth practise well her art,But not one inn distinguish from another;

Thence happens it that Esau differethIn seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comesFrom sire so vile that he is given to Mars.

A generated nature its own wayWould always make like its progenitors,If Providence divine were not triumphant.

Now that which was behind thee is before thee;But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,With a corollary will I mantle thee.

Evermore nature, if it fortune findDiscordant to it, like each other seedOut of its region, maketh evil thrift;

And if the world below would fix its mindOn the foundation which is laid by nature,Pursuing that, ’twould have the people good.

But you unto religion wrench asideHim who was born to gird him with the sword,And make a king of him who is for sermons;

Therefore your footsteps wander from the road.”

Paradiso: Canto IX

Beautiful Clemence, after that thy CharlesHad me enlightened, he narrated to meThe treacheries his seed should undergo;

But said: “Be still and let the years roll round;”So I can only say, that lamentationLegitimate shall follow on your wrongs.

And of that holy light the life alreadyHad to the Sun which fills it turned again,As to that good which for each thing sufficeth.

Ah, souls deceived, and creatures impious,Who from such good do turn away your hearts,Directing upon vanity your foreheads!

And now, behold, another of those splendoursApproached me, and its will to pleasure meIt signified by brightening outwardly.

The eyes of Beatrice, that fastened wereUpon me, as before, of dear assentTo my desire assurance gave to me.

“Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,Thou blessed spirit,” I said, “and give me proofThat what I think in thee I can reflect!”

Whereat the light, that still was new to me,Out of its depths, whence it before was singing,As one delighted to do good, continued:

“Within that region of the land depravedOf Italy, that lies between RialtoAnd fountain-heads of Brenta and of Piava,

Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,Wherefrom descended formerly a torchThat made upon that region great assault.

Out of one root were born both I and it;Cunizza was I called, and here I shineBecause the splendour of this star o’ercame me.

But gladly to myself the cause I pardonOf my allotment, and it does not grieve me;Which would perhaps seem strong unto your vulgar.

Of this so luculent and precious jewel,Which of our heaven is nearest unto me,Great fame remained; and ere it die away

This hundredth year shall yet quintupled be.See if man ought to make him excellent,So that another life the first may leave!

And thus thinks not the present multitudeShut in by Adige and Tagliamento,Nor yet for being scourged is penitent.

But soon ’twill be that Padua in the marshWill change the water that Vicenza bathes,Because the folk are stubborn against duty;

And where the Sile and Cagnano joinOne lordeth it, and goes with lofty head,For catching whom e’en now the net is making.

Feltro moreover of her impious pastorShall weep the crime, which shall so monstrous beThat for the like none ever entered Malta.

Ample exceedingly would be the vatThat of the Ferrarese could hold the blood,And weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce,

Of which this courteous priest shall make a giftTo show himself a partisan; and such giftsWill to the living of the land conform.

Above us there are mirrors, Thrones you call them,From which shines out on us God Judicant,So that this utterance seems good to us.”

Here it was silent, and it had the semblanceOf being turned elsewhither, by the wheelOn which it entered as it was before.

The other joy, already known to me,Became a thing transplendent in my sight,As a fine ruby smitten by the sun.

Through joy effulgence is acquired above,As here a smile; but down below, the shadeOutwardly darkens, as the mind is sad.

“God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit,Thy sight is,” said I, “so that never willOf his can possibly from thee be hidden;

Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavensGlad, with the singing of those holy firesWhich of their six wings make themselves a cowl,

Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings?Indeed, I would not wait thy questioningIf I in thee were as thou art in me.”

“The greatest of the valleys where the waterExpands itself,” forthwith its words began,“That sea excepted which the earth engarlands,

Between discordant shores against the sunExtends so far, that it meridian makesWhere it was wont before to make the horizon.

I was a dweller on that valley’s shore’Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey shortDoth from the Tuscan part the Genoese.

With the same sunset and same sunrise nearlySit Buggia and the city whence I was,That with its blood once made the harbour hot.

Folco that people called me unto whomMy name was known; and now with me this heavenImprints itself, as I did once with it;

For more the daughter of Belus never burned,Offending both Sichaeus and Creusa,Than I, so long as it became my locks,

Nor yet that Rodophean, who deludedwas by Demophoon, nor yet Alcides,When Iole he in his heart had locked.

Yet here is no repenting, but we smile,Not at the fault, which comes not back to mind,But at the power which ordered and foresaw.

Here we behold the art that doth adornWith such affection, and the good discoverWhereby the world above turns that below.

But that thou wholly satisfied mayst bearThy wishes hence which in this sphere are born,Still farther to proceed behoveth me.

Thou fain wouldst know who is within this lightThat here beside me thus is scintillating,Even as a sunbeam in the limpid water.

Then know thou, that within there is at restRahab, and being to our order joined,With her in its supremest grade ’tis sealed.

Into this heaven, where ends the shadowy coneCast by your world, before all other soulsFirst of Christ’s triumph was she taken up.

Full meet it was to leave her in some heaven,Even as a palm of the high victoryWhich he acquired with one palm and the other,

Because she favoured the first glorious deedOf Joshua upon the Holy Land,That little stirs the memory of the Pope.

Thy city, which an offshoot is of himWho first upon his Maker turned his back,And whose ambition is so sorely wept,

Brings forth and scatters the accursed flowerWhich both the sheep and lambs hath led astraySince it has turned the shepherd to a wolf.

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