Dante Alighieri

“ How many pleasant thoughts, how much desire, Conducted these unto the dolorous pass!"
Then unto them I turned me, and I spake, And I began: "Thine agonies, Francesca, Sad and compassionate to weeping make me.
But tell me, at the time of those sweet sighs, By what and in what manner Love conceded, That you should know your dubious desires?"
And she to me: "There is no greater sorrow Than to be mindful of the happy time In misery, and that thy Teacher knows.
But, if to recognise the earliest root Of love in us thou hast so great desire, I will do even as he who weeps and speaks. ”

“ And, if thou mark and listen to them well, Their childish looks and voice declare as much. "Here, silent as thou art, I know thy doubt; And gladly will I loose the knot, wherein Thy subtle thoughts have bound thee. From this realm Excluded, chalice no entrance here may find, No more shall hunger, thirst, or sorrow can. A law immutable hath establish'd all; Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit, Exactly, as the finger to the ring. It is not therefore without cause, that these, O'erspeedy comers to immortal life, Are different in their shares of excellence. ”

“ He thus: "Thy prayer is worthy of much praise, And I accept it therefore: but do thou Thy tongue refrain: to question them be mine, For I divine thy wish: and they perchance, For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee." When there the flame had come, where time and place Seem'd fitting to my guide, he thus began: "O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire! If living I of you did merit aught, Whate'er the measure were of that desert, When in the world my lofty strain I pour'd, Move ye not on, till one of you unfold In what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd." ”

“ Therefore the multitude, who see their guide Strike at the very good they covet most, Feed there and look no further. Thus the cause Is not corrupted nature in yourselves, But ill-conducting, that hath turn'd the world To evil. Rome, that turn'd it unto good, Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams Cast light on either way, the world's and God's. One since hath quench'd the other; and the sword Is grafted on the crook; and so conjoin'd Each must perforce decline to worse, unaw'd By fear of other. If thou doubt me, mark The blade: each herb is judg'd of by its seed. ”

“ Light is none, Save that which cometh from the pure serene Of ne'er disturbed ether: for the rest, 'Tis darkness all, or shadow of the flesh, Or else its poison. Here confess reveal'd That covert, which hath hidden from thy search The living justice, of the which thou mad'st Such frequent question; for thou saidst—'A man Is born on Indus' banks, and none is there Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write, And all his inclinations and his acts, As far as human reason sees, are good, And he offendeth not in word or deed. ”

“ What merit or what grace to me reveals thee? If I to hear thy words be worthy, tell me If thou dost come from Hell, and from what cloister."
"Through all the circles of the doleful realm," Responded he, "have I come hitherward; Heaven's power impelled me, and with that I come.
I by not doing, not by doing, lost The sight of that high sun which thou desirest, And which too late by me was recognized.
A place there is below not sad with torments, But darkness only, where the lamentations Have not the sound of wailing, but are sighs. ”

“ What reason here discovers I have power To show thee: that which lies beyond, expect From Beatrice, faith not reason's task. Spirit, substantial form, with matter join'd Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itself Specific virtue of that union born, Which is not felt except it work, nor prov'd But through effect, as vegetable life By the green leaf. From whence his intellect Deduced its primal notices of things, Man therefore knows not, or his appetites Their first affections; such in you, as zeal In bees to gather honey; at the first, Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise. ”

“ Except the soul divine, Place in this heav'n is none, the soul divine, Wherein the love, which ruleth o'er its orb, Is kindled, and the virtue that it sheds; One circle, light and love, enclasping it, As this doth clasp the others; and to Him, Who draws the bound, its limit only known. Measur'd itself by none, it doth divide Motion to all, counted unto them forth, As by the fifth or half ye count forth ten. The vase, wherein time's roots are plung'd, thou seest, Look elsewhere for the leaves. O mortal lust! That canst not lift thy head above the waves Which whelm and sink thee down! ”

“ Lower perchance, With various motion rock'd, trembles the soil: But here, through wind in earth's deep hollow pent, I know not how, yet never trembled: then Trembles, when any spirit feels itself So purified, that it may rise, or move For rising, and such loud acclaim ensues. Purification by the will alone Is prov'd, that free to change society Seizes the soul rejoicing in her will. Desire of bliss is present from the first; But strong propension hinders, to that wish By the just ordinance of heav'n oppos'd; Propension now as eager to fulfil Th' allotted torment, as erewhile to sin. ”

“ She unto me began, "thou wouldst become Like Semele, when she was turned to ashes.
Because my beauty, that along the stairs Of the eternal palace more enkindles, As thou hast seen, the farther we ascend,
If it were tempered not, is so resplendent That all thy mortal power in its effulgence Would seem a leaflet that the thunder crushes.
We are uplifted to the seventh splendour, That underneath the burning Lion's breast Now radiates downward mingled with his power.
Fix in direction of thine eyes the mind, And make of them a mirror for the figure That in this mirror shall appear to thee." ”

“ Not if thy Countenance were mask'd With hundred vizards, could a thought of thine How small soe'er, elude me. What thou saw'st Was shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heart To the waters of peace, that flow diffus'd From their eternal fountain. I not ask'd, What ails thee? for such cause as he doth, who Looks only with that eye which sees no more, When spiritless the body lies; but ask'd, To give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goads The slow and loit'ring need; that they be found Not wanting, when their hour of watch returns. ”

“ For that, which hither from the mortal world Arriveth, must be ripen'd in our beam." Such cheering accents from the second flame Assur'd me; and mine eyes I lifted up Unto the mountains that had bow'd them late With over-heavy burden. "Sith our Liege Wills of his grace that thou, or ere thy death, In the most secret council, with his lords Shouldst be confronted, so that having view'd The glories of our court, thou mayst therewith Thyself, and all who hear, invigorate With hope, that leads to blissful end; declare, What is that hope, how it doth flourish in thee, And whence thou hadst it?" ”

“ The newness of the sound, And that great light, inflam'd me with desire, Keener than e'er was felt, to know their cause. Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself, To calm my troubled mind, before I ask'd, Open'd her lips, and gracious thus began: "With false imagination thou thyself Mak'st dull, so that thou seest not the thing, Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off. Thou art not on the earth as thou believ'st; For light'ning scap'd from its own proper place Ne'er ran, as thou hast hither now return'd." ”

“ Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce Of goods that are committed unto Fortune, For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever has been, of these weary souls Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also What is this Fortune which thou speakest of, That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile, What ignorance is this which doth beset you? Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her. ”

“ As flame, Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along The surface, scarcely touching where it moves; So here, from heel to point, glided the flames. "Master! say who is he, than all the rest Glancing in fiercer agony, on whom A ruddier flame doth prey?" I thus inquir'd. "If thou be willing," he replied, "that I Carry thee down, where least the slope bank falls, He of himself shall tell thee and his wrongs." I then: "As pleases thee to me is best. Thou art my lord; and know'st that ne'er I quit Thy will: what silence hides that knowest thou." ”

“ It seems that you can see, if I hear rightly, Beforehand whatsoe'er time brings with it, And in the present have another mode."
"We see, like those who have imperfect sight, The things," he said, "that distant are from us; So much still shines on us the Sovereign Ruler.
When they draw near, or are, is wholly vain Our intellect, and if none brings it to us, Not anything know we of your human state.
Hence thou canst understand, that wholly dead Will be our knowledge from the moment when The portal of the future shall be closed." ”

“ A smile Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd: When thus her words resuming she began: "I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand; For I have mark'd it, where all time and place Are present. Not for increase to himself Of good, which may not be increas'd, but forth To manifest his glory by its beams, Inhabiting his own eternity, Beyond time's limit or what bound soe'er To circumscribe his being, as he will'd, Into new natures, like unto himself, Eternal Love unfolded. ”

“ Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus' brows Suffic'd me; henceforth there is need of both For my remaining enterprise Do thou Enter into my bosom, and there breathe So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg'd Forth from his limbs unsheath'd. O power divine! If thou to me of shine impart so much, That of that happy realm the shadow'd form Trac'd in my thoughts I may set forth to view, Thou shalt behold me of thy favour'd tree Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves; For to that honour thou, and my high theme Will fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire! ”

“ The highest good Unlimited, ineffable, doth so speed To love, as beam to lucid body darts, Giving as much of ardour as it finds. The sempiternal effluence streams abroad Spreading, wherever charity extends. So that the more aspirants to that bliss Are multiplied, more good is there to love, And more is lov'd; as mirrors, that reflect, Each unto other, propagated light. If these my words avail not to allay Thy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see, Who of this want, and of all else thou hast, Shall rid thee to the full. ”

“ And what was in the sun, wherein I entered, Apparent not by colour but by light,
I, though I call on genius, art, and practice, Cannot so tell that it could be imagined; Believe one can, and let him long to see it.
And if our fantasies too lowly are For altitude so great, it is no marvel, Since o'er the sun was never eye could go.
Such in this place was the fourth family Of the high Father, who forever sates it, Showing how he breathes forth and how begets.
And Beatrice began: "Give thanks, give thanks Unto the Sun of Angels, who to this Sensible one has raised thee by his grace!" ”

“ Therefore the Master said: "If thou break off Some little spray from any of these trees, The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain."
Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward, And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn; And the trunk cried, "Why dost thou mangle me?"
After it had become embrowned with blood, It recommenced its cry: "Why dost thou rend me? Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever?
Men once we were, and now are changed to trees; Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful, Even if the souls of serpents we had been." ”

“ Briefly ye shall be answer'd. When departs The fierce soul from the body, by itself Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf By Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls, No place assign'd, but wheresoever chance Hurls it, there sprouting, as a grain of spelt, It rises to a sapling, growing thence A savage plant. The Harpies, on its leaves Then feeding, cause both pain and for the pain A vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall come For our own spoils, yet not so that with them We may again be clad; for what a man Takes from himself it is not just he have. ”

“ CANTO II Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd, That covers, with the most exalted point Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls, And night, that opposite to him her orb Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth, Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp'd When she reigns highest: so that where I was, Aurora's white and vermeil-tinctur'd cheek To orange turn'd as she in age increas'd. Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink, Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought Journey, while motionless the body rests. ”

“ Virtue descendeth from on high that aids me To lead him to behold thee and to hear thee.
Now may it please thee to vouchsafe his coming; He seeketh Liberty, which is so dear, As knoweth he who life for her refuses.
Thou know'st it; since, for her, to thee not bitter Was death in Utica, where thou didst leave The vesture, that will shine so, the great day.
By us the eternal edicts are not broken; Since this one lives, and Minos binds not me; But of that circle I, where are the chaste
Eyes of thy Marcia, who in looks still prays thee, O holy breast, to hold her as thine own ”

“ I turn'd aside With fear of being left, when I beheld Only before myself the ground obscur'd. When thus my solace, turning him around, Bespake me kindly: "Why distrustest thou? Believ'st not I am with thee, thy sure guide? It now is evening there, where buried lies The body, in which I cast a shade, remov'd To Naples from Brundusium's wall. Nor thou Marvel, if before me no shadow fall, More than that in the sky element One ray obstructs not other. To endure Torments of heat and cold extreme, like frames That virtue hath dispos'd, which how it works Wills not to us should be reveal'd. ”

“ CANTO XXVII Then "Glory to the Father, to the Son, And to the Holy Spirit," rang aloud Throughout all Paradise, that with the song My spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain: And what I saw was equal ecstasy; One universal smile it seem'd of all things, Joy past compare, gladness unutterable, Imperishable life of peace and love, Exhaustless riches and unmeasur'd bliss. Before mine eyes stood the four torches lit; And that, which first had come, began to wax In brightness, and in semblance such became, As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds, And interchang'd their plumes. ”