Divine Comedy, Longfellow's Translation, Complete · Dante Alighieri
PARADISO
But who bethinks him that the living seals Of every beauty grow in power ascending, And that I there had not turned round to those, Can me excuse, if I myself accuse To excuse myself, and see that I speak truly: For here the holy joy is not disclosed, Because ascending it becomes more pure. Paradiso: Canto XV A will benign, in which reveals itself Ever the love that righteously inspires, As in the iniquitous, cupidity, Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre, And quieted the consecrated chords, That Heaven’s right hand doth tighten and relax. How unto just entreaties shall be deaf Those substances, which, to give me desire Of praying them, with one accord grew silent? ’Tis well that without end he should lament, Who for the love of thing that doth not last Eternally despoils him of that love! As through the pure and tranquil evening air There shoots from time to time a sudden fire, Moving the eyes that steadfast were before, And seems to be a star that changeth place, Except that in the part where it is kindled Nothing is missed, and this endureth little; So from the horn that to the right extends Unto that cross’s foot there ran a star Out of the constellation shining there; Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon, But down the radiant fillet ran along, So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.
Thus piteous did Anchises’ shade reach forward, If any faith our greatest Muse deserve, When in Elysium he his son perceived. “O sanguis meus, O superinfusa Gratia Dei, sicut tibi, cui Bis unquam Coeli janua reclusa?” Thus that effulgence; whence I gave it heed; Then round unto my Lady turned my sight, And on this side and that was stupefied; For in her eyes was burning such a smile That with mine own methought I touched the bottom Both of my grace and of my Paradise! Then, pleasant to the hearing and the sight, The spirit joined to its beginning things I understood not, so profound it spake; Nor did it hide itself from me by choice, But by necessity; for its conception Above the mark of mortals set itself. And when the bow of burning sympathy Was so far slackened, that its speech descended Towards the mark of our intelligence, The first thing that was understood by me Was “Benedight be Thou, O Trine and One, Who hast unto my seed so courteous been!” And it continued: “Hunger long and grateful, Drawn from the reading of the mighty volume Wherein is never changed the white nor dark, Thou hast appeased, my son, within this light In which I speak to thee, by grace of her Who to this lofty flight with plumage clothed thee.
Thou thinkest that to me thy thought doth pass From Him who is the first, as from the unit, If that be known, ray out the five and six; And therefore who I am thou askest not, And why I seem more joyous unto thee Than any other of this gladsome crowd. Thou think’st the truth; because the small and great Of this existence look into the mirror Wherein, before thou think’st, thy thought thou showest. But that the sacred love, in which I watch With sight perpetual, and which makes me thirst With sweet desire, may better be fulfilled, Now let thy voice secure and frank and glad Proclaim the wishes, the desire proclaim, To which my answer is decreed already.” To Beatrice I turned me, and she heard Before I spake, and smiled to me a sign, That made the wings of my desire increase; Then in this wise began I: “Love and knowledge, When on you dawned the first Equality, Of the same weight for each of you became; For in the Sun, which lighted you and burned With heat and radiance, they so equal are, That all similitudes are insufficient. But among mortals will and argument, For reason that to you is manifest, Diversely feathered in their pinions are. Whence I, who mortal am, feel in myself This inequality; so give not thanks, Save in my heart, for this paternal welcome.
And came from martyrdom unto this peace.” Paradiso: Canto XVI O thou our poor nobility of blood, If thou dost make the people glory in thee Down here where our affection languishes, A marvellous thing it ne’er will be to me; For there where appetite is not perverted, I say in Heaven, of thee I made a boast! Truly thou art a cloak that quickly shortens, So that unless we piece thee day by day Time goeth round about thee with his shears! With ‘You,’ which Rome was first to tolerate, (Wherein her family less perseveres,) Yet once again my words beginning made; Whence Beatrice, who stood somewhat apart, Smiling, appeared like unto her who coughed At the first failing writ of Guenever. And I began: “You are my ancestor, You give to me all hardihood to speak, You lift me so that I am more than I. So many rivulets with gladness fill My mind, that of itself it makes a joy Because it can endure this and not burst. Then tell me, my beloved root ancestral, Who were your ancestors, and what the years That in your boyhood chronicled themselves? Tell me about the sheepfold of Saint John, How large it was, and who the people were Within it worthy of the highest seats.” As at the blowing of the winds a coal Quickens to flame, so I beheld that light Become resplendent at my blandishments.
And saw, as mighty as they ancient were, With him of La Sannella him of Arca, And Soldanier, Ardinghi, and Bostichi. Near to the gate that is at present laden With a new felony of so much weight That soon it shall be jetsam from the bark, The Ravignani were, from whom descended The County Guido, and whoe’er the name Of the great Bellincione since hath taken. He of La Pressa knew the art of ruling Already, and already Galigajo Had hilt and pommel gilded in his house. Mighty already was the Column Vair, Sacchetti, Giuochi, Fifant, and Barucci, And Galli, and they who for the bushel blush. The stock from which were the Calfucci born Was great already, and already chosen To curule chairs the Sizii and Arrigucci. O how beheld I those who are undone By their own pride! and how the Balls of Gold Florence enflowered in all their mighty deeds! So likewise did the ancestors of those Who evermore, when vacant is your church, Fatten by staying in consistory. The insolent race, that like a dragon follows Whoever flees, and unto him that shows His teeth or purse is gentle as a lamb, Already rising was, but from low people; So that it pleased not Ubertin Donato That his wife’s father should make him their kin.
Nor by division was vermilion made.” Paradiso: Canto XVII As came to Clymene, to be made certain Of that which he had heard against himself, He who makes fathers chary still to children, Even such was I, and such was I perceived By Beatrice and by the holy light That first on my account had changed its place. Therefore my Lady said to me: “Send forth The flame of thy desire, so that it issue Imprinted well with the internal stamp; Not that our knowledge may be greater made By speech of thine, but to accustom thee To tell thy thirst, that we may give thee drink.” “O my beloved tree, (that so dost lift thee, That even as minds terrestrial perceive No triangle containeth two obtuse, So thou beholdest the contingent things Ere in themselves they are, fixing thine eyes Upon the point in which all times are present,) While I was with Virgilius conjoined Upon the mountain that the souls doth heal, And when descending into the dead world, Were spoken to me of my future life Some grievous words; although I feel myself In sooth foursquare against the blows of chance. On this account my wish would be content To hear what fortune is approaching me, Because foreseen an arrow comes more slowly.” Thus did I say unto that selfsame light That unto me had spoken before; and even As Beatrice willed was my own will confessed.
Not in vague phrase, in which the foolish folk Ensnared themselves of old, ere yet was slain The Lamb of God who taketh sins away, But with clear words and unambiguous Language responded that paternal love, Hid and revealed by its own proper smile: “Contingency, that outside of the volume Of your materiality extends not, Is all depicted in the eternal aspect. Necessity however thence it takes not, Except as from the eye, in which ’tis mirrored, A ship that with the current down descends. From thence, e’en as there cometh to the ear Sweet harmony from an organ, comes in sight To me the time that is preparing for thee. As forth from Athens went Hippolytus, By reason of his step-dame false and cruel, So thou from Florence must perforce depart. Already this is willed, and this is sought for; And soon it shall be done by him who thinks it, Where every day the Christ is bought and sold. The blame shall follow the offended party In outcry as is usual; but the vengeance Shall witness to the truth that doth dispense it. Thou shalt abandon everything beloved Most tenderly, and this the arrow is Which first the bow of banishment shoots forth. Thou shalt have proof how savoureth of salt The bread of others, and how hard a road The going down and up another’s stairs.
And written in thy mind thou hence shalt bear Of him, but shalt not say it”—and things said he Incredible to those who shall be present. Then added: “Son, these are the commentaries On what was said to thee; behold the snares That are concealed behind few revolutions; Yet would I not thy neighbours thou shouldst envy, Because thy life into the future reaches Beyond the punishment of their perfidies.” When by its silence showed that sainted soul That it had finished putting in the woof Into that web which I had given it warped, Began I, even as he who yearneth after, Being in doubt, some counsel from a person Who seeth, and uprightly wills, and loves: “Well see I, father mine, how spurreth on The time towards me such a blow to deal me As heaviest is to him who most gives way. Therefore with foresight it is well I arm me, That, if the dearest place be taken from me, I may not lose the others by my songs. Down through the world of infinite bitterness, And o’er the mountain, from whose beauteous summit The eyes of my own Lady lifted me, And afterward through heaven from light to light, I have learned that which, if I tell again, Will be a savour of strong herbs to many.
And the Lady who to God was leading me Said: “Change thy thought; consider that I am Near unto Him who every wrong disburdens.” Unto the loving accents of my comfort I turned me round, and then what love I saw Within those holy eyes I here relinquish; Not only that my language I distrust, But that my mind cannot return so far Above itself, unless another guide it. Thus much upon that point can I repeat, That, her again beholding, my affection From every other longing was released. While the eternal pleasure, which direct Rayed upon Beatrice, from her fair face Contented me with its reflected aspect, Conquering me with the radiance of a smile, She said to me, “Turn thee about and listen; Not in mine eyes alone is Paradise.” Even as sometimes here do we behold The affection in the look, if it be such That all the soul is wrapt away by it, So, by the flaming of the effulgence holy To which I turned, I recognized therein The wish of speaking to me somewhat farther. And it began: “In this fifth resting-place Upon the tree that liveth by its summit, And aye bears fruit, and never loses leaf, Are blessed spirits that below, ere yet They came to Heaven, were of such great renown That every Muse therewith would affluent be.
Such was it in mine eyes, when I had turned, Caused by the whiteness of the temperate star, The sixth, which to itself had gathered me. Within that Jovial torch did I behold The sparkling of the love which was therein Delineate our language to mine eyes. And even as birds uprisen from the shore, As in congratulation o’er their food, Make squadrons of themselves, now round, now long, So from within those lights the holy creatures Sang flying to and fro, and in their figures Made of themselves now D, now I, now L. First singing they to their own music moved; Then one becoming of these characters, A little while they rested and were silent. O divine Pegasea, thou who genius Dost glorious make, and render it long-lived, And this through thee the cities and the kingdoms, Illume me with thyself, that I may bring Their figures out as I have them conceived! Apparent be thy power in these brief verses! Themselves then they displayed in five times seven Vowels and consonants; and I observed The parts as they seemed spoken unto me. ‘Diligite justitiam,’ these were First verb and noun of all that was depicted; ‘Qui judicatis terram’ were the last. Thereafter in the M of the fifth word Remained they so arranged, that Jupiter Seemed to be silver there with gold inlaid.
And other lights I saw descend where was The summit of the M, and pause there singing The good, I think, that draws them to itself. Then, as in striking upon burning logs Upward there fly innumerable sparks, Whence fools are wont to look for auguries, More than a thousand lights seemed thence to rise, And to ascend, some more, and others less, Even as the Sun that lights them had allotted; And, each one being quiet in its place, The head and neck beheld I of an eagle Delineated by that inlaid fire. He who there paints has none to be his guide; But Himself guides; and is from Him remembered That virtue which is form unto the nest. The other beatitude, that contented seemed At first to bloom a lily on the M, By a slight motion followed out the imprint. O gentle star! what and how many gems Did demonstrate to me, that all our justice Effect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest! Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which begin Thy motion and thy virtue, to regard Whence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays; So that a second time it now be wroth With buying and with selling in the temple Whose walls were built with signs and martyrdoms! O soldiery of heaven, whom I contemplate, Implore for those who are upon the earth All gone astray after the bad example!
Once ’twas the custom to make war with swords; But now ’tis made by taking here and there The bread the pitying Father shuts from none. Yet thou, who writest but to cancel, think That Peter and that Paul, who for this vineyard Which thou art spoiling died, are still alive! Well canst thou say: “So steadfast my desire Is unto him who willed to live alone, And for a dance was led to martyrdom, That I know not the Fisherman nor Paul.” Paradiso: Canto XIX Appeared before me with its wings outspread The beautiful image that in sweet fruition Made jubilant the interwoven souls; Appeared a little ruby each, wherein Ray of the sun was burning so enkindled That each into mine eyes refracted it. And what it now behoves me to retrace Nor voice has e’er reported, nor ink written, Nor was by fantasy e’er comprehended; For speak I saw, and likewise heard, the beak, And utter with its voice both ‘I’ and ‘My,’ When in conception it was ‘We’ and ‘Our.’ And it began: “Being just and merciful Am I exalted here unto that glory Which cannot be exceeded by desire; And upon earth I left my memory Such, that the evil-minded people there Commend it, but continue not the story.” So doth a single heat from many embers Make itself felt, even as from many loves Issued a single sound from out that image.
Whence I thereafter: “O perpetual flowers Of the eternal joy, that only one Make me perceive your odours manifold, Exhaling, break within me the great fast Which a long season has in hunger held me, Not finding for it any food on earth. Well do I know, that if in heaven its mirror Justice Divine another realm doth make, Yours apprehends it not through any veil. You know how I attentively address me To listen; and you know what is the doubt That is in me so very old a fast.” Even as a falcon, issuing from his hood, Doth move his head, and with his wings applaud him, Showing desire, and making himself fine, Saw I become that standard, which of lauds Was interwoven of the grace divine, With such songs as he knows who there rejoices. Then it began: “He who a compass turned On the world’s outer verge, and who within it Devised so much occult and manifest, Could not the impress of his power so make On all the universe, as that his Word Should not remain in infinite excess. And this makes certain that the first proud being, Who was the paragon of every creature, By not awaiting light fell immature. And hence appears it, that each minor nature Is scant receptacle unto that good Which has no end, and by itself is measured.
In consequence our vision, which perforce Must be some ray of that intelligence With which all things whatever are replete, Cannot in its own nature be so potent, That it shall not its origin discern Far beyond that which is apparent to it. Therefore into the justice sempiternal The power of vision that your world receives, As eye into the ocean, penetrates; Which, though it see the bottom near the shore, Upon the deep perceives it not, and yet ’Tis there, but it is hidden by the depth. There is no light but comes from the serene That never is o’ercast, nay, it is darkness Or shadow of the flesh, or else its poison. Amply to thee is opened now the cavern Which has concealed from thee the living justice Of which thou mad’st such frequent questioning. For saidst thou: ‘Born a man is on the shore Of Indus, and is none who there can speak Of Christ, nor who can read, nor who can write; And all his inclinations and his actions Are good, so far as human reason sees, Without a sin in life or in discourse: He dieth unbaptised and without faith; Where is this justice that condemneth him? Where is his fault, if he do not believe?’ Now who art thou, that on the bench wouldst sit In judgment at a thousand miles away, With the short vision of a single span?
Truly to him who with me subtilizes, If so the Scripture were not over you, For doubting there were marvellous occasion. O animals terrene, O stolid minds, The primal will, that in itself is good, Ne’er from itself, the Good Supreme, has moved. So much is just as is accordant with it; No good created draws it to itself, But it, by raying forth, occasions that.” Even as above her nest goes circling round The stork when she has fed her little ones, And he who has been fed looks up at her, So lifted I my brows, and even such Became the blessed image, which its wings Was moving, by so many counsels urged. Circling around it sang, and said: “As are My notes to thee, who dost not comprehend them, Such is the eternal judgment to you mortals.” Those lucent splendours of the Holy Spirit Grew quiet then, but still within the standard That made the Romans reverend to the world. It recommenced: “Unto this kingdom never Ascended one who had not faith in Christ, Before or since he to the tree was nailed. But look thou, many crying are, ‘Christ, Christ!’ Who at the judgment shall be far less near To him than some shall be who knew not Christ. Such Christians shall the Ethiop condemn, When the two companies shall be divided, The one for ever rich, the other poor.
What to your kings may not the Persians say, When they that volume opened shall behold In which are written down all their dispraises? There shall be seen, among the deeds of Albert, That which ere long shall set the pen in motion, For which the realm of Prague shall be deserted. There shall be seen the woe that on the Seine He brings by falsifying of the coin, Who by the blow of a wild boar shall die. There shall be seen the pride that causes thirst, Which makes the Scot and Englishman so mad That they within their boundaries cannot rest; Be seen the luxury and effeminate life Of him of Spain, and the Bohemian, Who valour never knew and never wished; Be seen the Cripple of Jerusalem, His goodness represented by an I, While the reverse an M shall represent; Be seen the avarice and poltroonery Of him who guards the Island of the Fire, Wherein Anchises finished his long life; And to declare how pitiful he is Shall be his record in contracted letters Which shall make note of much in little space. And shall appear to each one the foul deeds Of uncle and of brother who a nation So famous have dishonoured, and two crowns. And he of Portugal and he of Norway Shall there be known, and he of Rascia too, Who saw in evil hour the coin of Venice.
Even thus, relieved from the delay of waiting, That murmuring of the eagle mounted up Along its neck, as if it had been hollow. There it became a voice, and issued thence From out its beak, in such a form of words As the heart waited for wherein I wrote them. “The part in me which sees and bears the sun In mortal eagles,” it began to me, “Now fixedly must needs be looked upon; For of the fires of which I make my figure, Those whence the eye doth sparkle in my head Of all their orders the supremest are. He who is shining in the midst as pupil Was once the singer of the Holy Spirit, Who bore the ark from city unto city; Now knoweth he the merit of his song, In so far as effect of his own counsel, By the reward which is commensurate. Of five, that make a circle for my brow, He that approacheth nearest to my beak Did the poor widow for her son console; Now knoweth he how dearly it doth cost Not following Christ, by the experience Of this sweet life and of its opposite. He who comes next in the circumference Of which I speak, upon its highest arc, Did death postpone by penitence sincere; Now knoweth he that the eternal judgment Suffers no change, albeit worthy prayer Maketh below to-morrow of to-day.
The next who follows, with the laws and me, Under the good intent that bore bad fruit Became a Greek by ceding to the pastor; Now knoweth he how all the ill deduced From his good action is not harmful to him, Although the world thereby may be destroyed. And he, whom in the downward arc thou seest, Guglielmo was, whom the same land deplores That weepeth Charles and Frederick yet alive; Now knoweth he how heaven enamoured is With a just king; and in the outward show Of his effulgence he reveals it still. Who would believe, down in the errant world, That e’er the Trojan Ripheus in this round Could be the fifth one of the holy lights? Now knoweth he enough of what the world Has not the power to see of grace divine, Although his sight may not discern the bottom.” Like as a lark that in the air expatiates, First singing and then silent with content Of the last sweetness that doth satisfy her, Such seemed to me the image of the imprint Of the eternal pleasure, by whose will Doth everything become the thing it is. And notwithstanding to my doubt I was As glass is to the colour that invests it, To wait the time in silence it endured not, But forth from out my mouth, “What things are these?” Extorted with the force of its own weight; Whereat I saw great joy of coruscation.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.