CANTO XVIIINow in his word, sole, ruminating, joy’dThat blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile,Who led me unto God, admonish’d: “MuseOn other thoughts: bethink thee, that near HimI dwell, who recompenseth every wrong.”At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn’d;And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,I leave in silence here: nor through distrustOf my words only, but that to such blissThe mind remounts not without aid. Thus muchYet may I speak; that, as I gaz’d on her,Affection found no room for other wish.While the everlasting pleasure, that did fullOn Beatrice shine, with second viewFrom her fair countenance my gladden’d soulContented; vanquishing me with a beamOf her soft smile, she spake: “Turn thee, and list.These eyes are not thy only Paradise.”As here we sometimes in the looks may seeTh’ affection mark’d, when that its sway hath ta’enThe spirit wholly; thus the hallow’d light,To whom I turn’d, flashing, bewray’d its willTo talk yet further with me, and began:“On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose lifeIs from its top, whose fruit is ever fairAnd leaf unwith’ring, blessed spirits abide,That were below, ere they arriv’d in heav’n,So mighty in renown, as every museMight grace her triumph with them. On the hornsLook therefore of the cross: he, whom I name,Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloudIts nimble fire.” Along the cross I saw,At the repeated name of Joshua,A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,Ere it was done: then, at the naming sawOf the great Maccabee, another moveWith whirling speed; and gladness was the scourgeUnto that top. The next for CharlemagneAnd for the peer Orlando, two my gazePursued, intently, as the eye pursuesA falcon flying. Last, along the cross,William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drewMy ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul,Who spake with me among the other lightsDid move away, and mix; and with the choirOf heav’nly songsters prov’d his tuneful skill.To Beatrice on my right l bent,Looking for intimation or by wordOr act, what next behoov’d; and did descrySuch mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,It past all former wont. And, as by senseOf new delight, the man, who perseveresIn good deeds doth perceive from day to dayHis virtue growing; I e’en thus perceiv’dOf my ascent, together with the heav’nThe circuit widen’d, noting the increaseOf beauty in that wonder. Like the changeIn a brief moment on some maiden’s cheek,Which from its fairness doth discharge the weightOf pudency, that stain’d it; such in her,And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparksOf love, that reign’d there, fashion to my viewOur language. And as birds, from river banksArisen, now in round, now lengthen’d troop,Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems,Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,The saintly creatures flying, sang, and madeNow D. now I. now L. figur’d I’ th’ air.First, singing, to their notes they mov’d, then oneBecoming of these signs, a little whileDid rest them, and were mute. O nymph divineOf Pegasean race! whose souls, which thouInspir’st, mak’st glorious and long-liv’d, as theyCities and realms by thee! thou with thyselfInform me; that I may set forth the shapes,As fancy doth present them. Be thy powerDisplay’d in this brief song. The characters,Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.In order each, as they appear’d, I mark’d.Diligite Justitiam, the first,Both verb and noun all blazon’d; and the extremeQui judicatis terram. In the M.Of the fifth word they held their station,Making the star seem silver streak’d with gold.And on the summit of the M. I sawDescending other lights, that rested there,Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,Sparkles innumerable on all sidesRise scatter’d, source of augury to th’ unwise;Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres henceSeem’d reascending, and a higher pitchSome mounting, and some less; e’en as the sun,Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each oneHad settled in his place, the head and neckThen saw I of an eagle, livelyGrav’d in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides;And every line and texture of the nestDoth own from him the virtue, fashions it.The other bright beatitude, that seem’dErewhile, with lilied crowning, well contentTo over-canopy the M. mov’d forth,Following gently the impress of the bird.Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gemsDeclar’d to me our justice on the earthTo be the effluence of that heav’n, which thou,Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay!Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whomThy motion and thy virtue are begun,That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,To vitiate thy beam: so that once moreHe may put forth his hand ’gainst such, as driveTheir traffic in that sanctuary, whose wallsWith miracles and martyrdoms were built.Ye host of heaven! whose glory I survey!O beg ye grace for those, that are on earthAll after ill example gone astray.War once had for its instrument the sword:But now ’tis made, taking the bread awayWhich the good Father locks from none.—And thou,That writes but to cancel, think, that they,Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.Thou hast good cause to cry, “My heart so cleavesTo him, that liv’d in solitude remote,And from the wilds was dragg’d to martyrdom,I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul.”
Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy’dThat blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile,Who led me unto God, admonish’d: “MuseOn other thoughts: bethink thee, that near HimI dwell, who recompenseth every wrong.”
At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn’d;And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,I leave in silence here: nor through distrustOf my words only, but that to such blissThe mind remounts not without aid. Thus muchYet may I speak; that, as I gaz’d on her,Affection found no room for other wish.While the everlasting pleasure, that did fullOn Beatrice shine, with second viewFrom her fair countenance my gladden’d soulContented; vanquishing me with a beamOf her soft smile, she spake: “Turn thee, and list.These eyes are not thy only Paradise.”
As here we sometimes in the looks may seeTh’ affection mark’d, when that its sway hath ta’enThe spirit wholly; thus the hallow’d light,To whom I turn’d, flashing, bewray’d its willTo talk yet further with me, and began:“On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose lifeIs from its top, whose fruit is ever fairAnd leaf unwith’ring, blessed spirits abide,That were below, ere they arriv’d in heav’n,So mighty in renown, as every museMight grace her triumph with them. On the hornsLook therefore of the cross: he, whom I name,Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloudIts nimble fire.” Along the cross I saw,At the repeated name of Joshua,A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,Ere it was done: then, at the naming sawOf the great Maccabee, another moveWith whirling speed; and gladness was the scourgeUnto that top. The next for CharlemagneAnd for the peer Orlando, two my gazePursued, intently, as the eye pursuesA falcon flying. Last, along the cross,William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drewMy ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul,Who spake with me among the other lightsDid move away, and mix; and with the choirOf heav’nly songsters prov’d his tuneful skill.
To Beatrice on my right l bent,Looking for intimation or by wordOr act, what next behoov’d; and did descrySuch mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,It past all former wont. And, as by senseOf new delight, the man, who perseveresIn good deeds doth perceive from day to dayHis virtue growing; I e’en thus perceiv’dOf my ascent, together with the heav’nThe circuit widen’d, noting the increaseOf beauty in that wonder. Like the changeIn a brief moment on some maiden’s cheek,Which from its fairness doth discharge the weightOf pudency, that stain’d it; such in her,And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparksOf love, that reign’d there, fashion to my viewOur language. And as birds, from river banksArisen, now in round, now lengthen’d troop,Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems,Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,The saintly creatures flying, sang, and madeNow D. now I. now L. figur’d I’ th’ air.
First, singing, to their notes they mov’d, then oneBecoming of these signs, a little whileDid rest them, and were mute. O nymph divineOf Pegasean race! whose souls, which thouInspir’st, mak’st glorious and long-liv’d, as theyCities and realms by thee! thou with thyselfInform me; that I may set forth the shapes,As fancy doth present them. Be thy powerDisplay’d in this brief song. The characters,Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.In order each, as they appear’d, I mark’d.Diligite Justitiam, the first,Both verb and noun all blazon’d; and the extremeQui judicatis terram. In the M.Of the fifth word they held their station,Making the star seem silver streak’d with gold.And on the summit of the M. I sawDescending other lights, that rested there,Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,Sparkles innumerable on all sidesRise scatter’d, source of augury to th’ unwise;Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres henceSeem’d reascending, and a higher pitchSome mounting, and some less; e’en as the sun,Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each oneHad settled in his place, the head and neckThen saw I of an eagle, livelyGrav’d in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides;And every line and texture of the nestDoth own from him the virtue, fashions it.The other bright beatitude, that seem’dErewhile, with lilied crowning, well contentTo over-canopy the M. mov’d forth,Following gently the impress of the bird.
Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gemsDeclar’d to me our justice on the earthTo be the effluence of that heav’n, which thou,Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay!Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whomThy motion and thy virtue are begun,That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,To vitiate thy beam: so that once moreHe may put forth his hand ’gainst such, as driveTheir traffic in that sanctuary, whose wallsWith miracles and martyrdoms were built.
Ye host of heaven! whose glory I survey!O beg ye grace for those, that are on earthAll after ill example gone astray.War once had for its instrument the sword:But now ’tis made, taking the bread awayWhich the good Father locks from none.—And thou,That writes but to cancel, think, that they,Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.Thou hast good cause to cry, “My heart so cleavesTo him, that liv’d in solitude remote,And from the wilds was dragg’d to martyrdom,I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul.”