CANTO XIO fond anxiety of mortal men!How vain and inconclusive argumentsAre those, which make thee beat thy wings belowFor statues one, and one for aphorismsWas hunting; this the priesthood follow’d, thatBy force or sophistry aspir’d to rule;To rob another, and another soughtBy civil business wealth; one moiling layTangled in net of sensual delight,And one to witless indolence resign’d;What time from all these empty things escap’d,With Beatrice, I thus gloriouslyWas rais’d aloft, and made the guest of heav’n.They of the circle to that point, each one.Where erst it was, had turn’d; and steady glow’d,As candle in his socket. Then withinThe lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smilingWith merer gladness, heard I thus begin:“E’en as his beam illumes me, so I lookInto the eternal light, and clearly markThy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt,And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afreshIn such plain open phrase, as may be smoothTo thy perception, where I told thee lateThat ‘well they thrive;’ and that ‘no second suchHath risen,’ which no small distinction needs.“The providence, that governeth the world,In depth of counsel by created kenUnfathomable, to the end that she,Who with loud cries was ’spous’d in precious blood,Might keep her footing towards her well-belov’d,Safe in herself and constant unto him,Hath two ordain’d, who should on either handIn chief escort her: one seraphic allIn fervency; for wisdom upon earth,The other splendour of cherubic light.I but of one will tell: he tells of both,Who one commendeth. which of them so’erBe taken: for their deeds were to one end.“Between Tupino, and the wave, that fallsFrom blest Ubaldo’s chosen hill, there hangsRich slope of mountain high, whence heat and coldAre wafted through Perugia’s eastern gate:And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rearMourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side,Where it doth break its steepness most, aroseA sun upon the world, as duly thisFrom Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speakOf that place, say Ascesi; for its nameWere lamely so deliver’d; but the East,To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl’d.He was not yet much distant from his rising,When his good influence ’gan to bless the earth.A dame to whom none openeth pleasure’s gateMore than to death, was, ’gainst his father’s will,His stripling choice: and he did make her his,Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,And in his father’s sight: from day to day,Then lov’d her more devoutly. She, bereav’dOf her first husband, slighted and obscure,Thousand and hundred years and more, remain’dWithout a single suitor, till he came.Nor aught avail’d, that, with Amyclas, sheWas found unmov’d at rumour of his voice,Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldnessWhereby with Christ she mounted on the cross,When Mary stay’d beneath. But not to dealThus closely with thee longer, take at largeThe rovers’ titles—Poverty and Francis.Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,So much, that venerable Bernard firstDid bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peaceSo heavenly, ran, yet deem’d his footing slow.O hidden riches! O prolific good!Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,And follow both the bridegroom; so the brideCan please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way,The father and the master, with his spouse,And with that family, whom now the cordGirt humbly: nor did abjectness of heartWeigh down his eyelids, for that he was sonOf Pietro Bernardone, and by menIn wond’rous sort despis’d. But royallyHis hard intention he to InnocentSet forth, and from him first receiv’d the sealOn his religion. Then, when numerous flock’dThe tribe of lowly ones, that trac’d HIS steps,Whose marvellous life deservedly were sungIn heights empyreal, through Honorius’ handA second crown, to deck their Guardian’s virtues,Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath’d: and whenHe had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood upIn the proud Soldan’s presence, and there preach’dChrist and his followers; but found the raceUnripen’d for conversion: back once moreHe hasted (not to intermit his toil),And reap’d Ausonian lands. On the hard rock,’Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from ChristTook the last Signet, which his limbs two yearsDid carry. Then the season come, that he,Who to such good had destin’d him, was pleas’dT’ advance him to the meed, which he had earn’dBy his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,As their just heritage, he gave in chargeHis dearest lady, and enjoin’d their loveAnd faith to her: and, from her bosom, will’dHis goodly spirit should move forth, returningTo its appointed kingdom, nor would haveHis body laid upon another bier.“Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,To keep the bark of Peter in deep seaHelm’d to right point; and such our Patriarch was.Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in.But hunger of new viands tempts his flock,So that they needs into strange pastures wideMust spread them: and the more remote from himThe stragglers wander, so much mole they comeHome to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk.There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.“Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta’enGood heed, if that, which I have told, recallTo mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill’d:For thou wilt see the point from whence they split,Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,‘That well they thrive not sworn with vanity.’”
O fond anxiety of mortal men!How vain and inconclusive argumentsAre those, which make thee beat thy wings belowFor statues one, and one for aphorismsWas hunting; this the priesthood follow’d, thatBy force or sophistry aspir’d to rule;To rob another, and another soughtBy civil business wealth; one moiling layTangled in net of sensual delight,And one to witless indolence resign’d;What time from all these empty things escap’d,With Beatrice, I thus gloriouslyWas rais’d aloft, and made the guest of heav’n.
They of the circle to that point, each one.Where erst it was, had turn’d; and steady glow’d,As candle in his socket. Then withinThe lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smilingWith merer gladness, heard I thus begin:
“E’en as his beam illumes me, so I lookInto the eternal light, and clearly markThy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt,And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afreshIn such plain open phrase, as may be smoothTo thy perception, where I told thee lateThat ‘well they thrive;’ and that ‘no second suchHath risen,’ which no small distinction needs.
“The providence, that governeth the world,In depth of counsel by created kenUnfathomable, to the end that she,Who with loud cries was ’spous’d in precious blood,Might keep her footing towards her well-belov’d,Safe in herself and constant unto him,Hath two ordain’d, who should on either handIn chief escort her: one seraphic allIn fervency; for wisdom upon earth,The other splendour of cherubic light.I but of one will tell: he tells of both,Who one commendeth. which of them so’erBe taken: for their deeds were to one end.
“Between Tupino, and the wave, that fallsFrom blest Ubaldo’s chosen hill, there hangsRich slope of mountain high, whence heat and coldAre wafted through Perugia’s eastern gate:And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rearMourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side,Where it doth break its steepness most, aroseA sun upon the world, as duly thisFrom Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speakOf that place, say Ascesi; for its nameWere lamely so deliver’d; but the East,To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl’d.He was not yet much distant from his rising,When his good influence ’gan to bless the earth.A dame to whom none openeth pleasure’s gateMore than to death, was, ’gainst his father’s will,His stripling choice: and he did make her his,Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,And in his father’s sight: from day to day,Then lov’d her more devoutly. She, bereav’dOf her first husband, slighted and obscure,Thousand and hundred years and more, remain’dWithout a single suitor, till he came.Nor aught avail’d, that, with Amyclas, sheWas found unmov’d at rumour of his voice,Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldnessWhereby with Christ she mounted on the cross,When Mary stay’d beneath. But not to dealThus closely with thee longer, take at largeThe rovers’ titles—Poverty and Francis.Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,So much, that venerable Bernard firstDid bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peaceSo heavenly, ran, yet deem’d his footing slow.O hidden riches! O prolific good!Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,And follow both the bridegroom; so the brideCan please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way,The father and the master, with his spouse,And with that family, whom now the cordGirt humbly: nor did abjectness of heartWeigh down his eyelids, for that he was sonOf Pietro Bernardone, and by menIn wond’rous sort despis’d. But royallyHis hard intention he to InnocentSet forth, and from him first receiv’d the sealOn his religion. Then, when numerous flock’dThe tribe of lowly ones, that trac’d HIS steps,Whose marvellous life deservedly were sungIn heights empyreal, through Honorius’ handA second crown, to deck their Guardian’s virtues,Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath’d: and whenHe had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood upIn the proud Soldan’s presence, and there preach’dChrist and his followers; but found the raceUnripen’d for conversion: back once moreHe hasted (not to intermit his toil),And reap’d Ausonian lands. On the hard rock,’Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from ChristTook the last Signet, which his limbs two yearsDid carry. Then the season come, that he,Who to such good had destin’d him, was pleas’dT’ advance him to the meed, which he had earn’dBy his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,As their just heritage, he gave in chargeHis dearest lady, and enjoin’d their loveAnd faith to her: and, from her bosom, will’dHis goodly spirit should move forth, returningTo its appointed kingdom, nor would haveHis body laid upon another bier.
“Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,To keep the bark of Peter in deep seaHelm’d to right point; and such our Patriarch was.Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in.But hunger of new viands tempts his flock,So that they needs into strange pastures wideMust spread them: and the more remote from himThe stragglers wander, so much mole they comeHome to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk.There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.
“Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta’enGood heed, if that, which I have told, recallTo mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill’d:For thou wilt see the point from whence they split,Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,‘That well they thrive not sworn with vanity.’”