Paradiso: Canto XVIIINow was alone rejoicing in its wordThat soul beatified, and I was tastingMy own, the bitter tempering with the sweet,And the Lady who to God was leading meSaid: “Change thy thought; consider that I amNear unto Him who every wrong disburdens.”Unto the loving accents of my comfortI turned me round, and then what love I sawWithin those holy eyes I here relinquish;Not only that my language I distrust,But that my mind cannot return so farAbove itself, unless another guide it.Thus much upon that point can I repeat,That, her again beholding, my affectionFrom every other longing was released.While the eternal pleasure, which directRayed upon Beatrice, from her fair faceContented 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 beholdThe affection in the look, if it be suchThat all the soul is wrapt away by it,So, by the flaming of the effulgence holyTo which I turned, I recognized thereinThe wish of speaking to me somewhat farther.And it began: “In this fifth resting-placeUpon the tree that liveth by its summit,And aye bears fruit, and never loses leaf,Are blessed spirits that below, ere yetThey came to Heaven, were of such great renownThat every Muse therewith would affluent be.Therefore look thou upon the cross’s horns;He whom I now shall name will there enactWhat doth within a cloud its own swift fire.”I saw athwart the Cross a splendour drawnBy naming Joshua, (even as he did it,)Nor noted I the word before the deed;And at the name of the great MaccabeeI saw another move itself revolving,And gladness was the whip unto that top.Likewise for Charlemagne and for Orlando,Two of them my regard attentive followedAs followeth the eye its falcon flying.William thereafterward, and Renouard,And the Duke Godfrey, did attract my sightAlong upon that Cross, and Robert Guiscard.Then, moved and mingled with the other lights,The soul that had addressed me showed how greatAn artist ’twas among the heavenly singers.To my right side I turned myself around,My duty to behold in BeatriceEither by words or gesture signified;And so translucent I beheld her eyes,So full of pleasure, that her countenanceSurpassed its other and its latest wont.And as, by feeling greater delectation,A man in doing good from day to dayBecomes aware his virtue is increasing,So I became aware that my gyrationWith heaven together had increased its arc,That miracle beholding more adorned.And such as is the change, in little lapseOf time, in a pale woman, when her faceIs from the load of bashfulness unladen,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 beholdThe sparkling of the love which was thereinDelineate 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 creaturesSang flying to and fro, and in their figuresMade 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 geniusDost glorious make, and render it long-lived,And this through thee the cities and the kingdoms,Illume me with thyself, that I may bringTheir figures out as I have them conceived!Apparent be thy power in these brief verses!Themselves then they displayed in five times sevenVowels and consonants; and I observedThe parts as they seemed spoken unto me.‘Diligite justitiam,’ these wereFirst verb and noun of all that was depicted;‘Qui judicatis terram’ were the last.Thereafter in the M of the fifth wordRemained they so arranged, that JupiterSeemed to be silver there with gold inlaid.And other lights I saw descend where wasThe summit of the M, and pause there singingThe good, I think, that draws them to itself.Then, as in striking upon burning logsUpward 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 eagleDelineated by that inlaid fire.He who there paints has none to be his guide;But Himself guides; and is from Him rememberedThat virtue which is form unto the nest.The other beatitude, that contented seemedAt first to bloom a lily on the M,By a slight motion followed out the imprint.O gentle star! what and how many gemsDid demonstrate to me, that all our justiceEffect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest!Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which beginThy motion and thy virtue, to regardWhence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays;So that a second time it now be wrothWith buying and with selling in the templeWhose walls were built with signs and martyrdoms!O soldiery of heaven, whom I contemplate,Implore for those who are upon the earthAll gone astray after the bad example!Once ’twas the custom to make war with swords;But now ’tis made by taking here and thereThe bread the pitying Father shuts from none.Yet thou, who writest but to cancel, thinkThat Peter and that Paul, who for this vineyardWhich thou art spoiling died, are still alive!Well canst thou say: “So steadfast my desireIs unto him who willed to live alone,And for a dance was led to martyrdom,That I know not the Fisherman nor Paul.”
Now was alone rejoicing in its wordThat soul beatified, and I was tastingMy own, the bitter tempering with the sweet,
And the Lady who to God was leading meSaid: “Change thy thought; consider that I amNear unto Him who every wrong disburdens.”
Unto the loving accents of my comfortI turned me round, and then what love I sawWithin those holy eyes I here relinquish;
Not only that my language I distrust,But that my mind cannot return so farAbove itself, unless another guide it.
Thus much upon that point can I repeat,That, her again beholding, my affectionFrom every other longing was released.
While the eternal pleasure, which directRayed upon Beatrice, from her fair faceContented 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 beholdThe affection in the look, if it be suchThat all the soul is wrapt away by it,
So, by the flaming of the effulgence holyTo which I turned, I recognized thereinThe wish of speaking to me somewhat farther.
And it began: “In this fifth resting-placeUpon the tree that liveth by its summit,And aye bears fruit, and never loses leaf,
Are blessed spirits that below, ere yetThey came to Heaven, were of such great renownThat every Muse therewith would affluent be.
Therefore look thou upon the cross’s horns;He whom I now shall name will there enactWhat doth within a cloud its own swift fire.”
I saw athwart the Cross a splendour drawnBy naming Joshua, (even as he did it,)Nor noted I the word before the deed;
And at the name of the great MaccabeeI saw another move itself revolving,And gladness was the whip unto that top.
Likewise for Charlemagne and for Orlando,Two of them my regard attentive followedAs followeth the eye its falcon flying.
William thereafterward, and Renouard,And the Duke Godfrey, did attract my sightAlong upon that Cross, and Robert Guiscard.
Then, moved and mingled with the other lights,The soul that had addressed me showed how greatAn artist ’twas among the heavenly singers.
To my right side I turned myself around,My duty to behold in BeatriceEither by words or gesture signified;
And so translucent I beheld her eyes,So full of pleasure, that her countenanceSurpassed its other and its latest wont.
And as, by feeling greater delectation,A man in doing good from day to dayBecomes aware his virtue is increasing,
So I became aware that my gyrationWith heaven together had increased its arc,That miracle beholding more adorned.
And such as is the change, in little lapseOf time, in a pale woman, when her faceIs from the load of bashfulness unladen,
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 beholdThe sparkling of the love which was thereinDelineate 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 creaturesSang flying to and fro, and in their figuresMade 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 geniusDost glorious make, and render it long-lived,And this through thee the cities and the kingdoms,
Illume me with thyself, that I may bringTheir figures out as I have them conceived!Apparent be thy power in these brief verses!
Themselves then they displayed in five times sevenVowels and consonants; and I observedThe parts as they seemed spoken unto me.
‘Diligite justitiam,’ these wereFirst verb and noun of all that was depicted;‘Qui judicatis terram’ were the last.
Thereafter in the M of the fifth wordRemained they so arranged, that JupiterSeemed to be silver there with gold inlaid.
And other lights I saw descend where wasThe summit of the M, and pause there singingThe good, I think, that draws them to itself.
Then, as in striking upon burning logsUpward 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 eagleDelineated by that inlaid fire.
He who there paints has none to be his guide;But Himself guides; and is from Him rememberedThat virtue which is form unto the nest.
The other beatitude, that contented seemedAt first to bloom a lily on the M,By a slight motion followed out the imprint.
O gentle star! what and how many gemsDid demonstrate to me, that all our justiceEffect is of that heaven which thou ingemmest!
Wherefore I pray the Mind, in which beginThy motion and thy virtue, to regardWhence comes the smoke that vitiates thy rays;
So that a second time it now be wrothWith buying and with selling in the templeWhose walls were built with signs and martyrdoms!
O soldiery of heaven, whom I contemplate,Implore for those who are upon the earthAll gone astray after the bad example!
Once ’twas the custom to make war with swords;But now ’tis made by taking here and thereThe bread the pitying Father shuts from none.
Yet thou, who writest but to cancel, thinkThat Peter and that Paul, who for this vineyardWhich thou art spoiling died, are still alive!
Well canst thou say: “So steadfast my desireIs unto him who willed to live alone,And for a dance was led to martyrdom,
That I know not the Fisherman nor Paul.”