Paradiso: Canto VIIIThe world used in its peril to believeThat the fair Cypria delirious loveRayed out, in the third epicycle turning;Wherefore not only unto her paid honourOf sacrifices and of votive cryThe ancient nations in the ancient error,But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,That as her mother, this one as her son,And said that he had sat in Dido’s lap;And they from her, whence I beginning take,Took the denomination of the starThat woos the sun, now following, now in front.I was not ware of our ascending to it;But of our being in it gave full faithMy Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.And as within a flame a spark is seen,And as within a voice a voice discerned,When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,Within that light beheld I other lampsMove in a circle, speeding more and less,Methinks in measure of their inward vision.From a cold cloud descended never winds,Or visible or not, so rapidlyThey would not laggard and impeded seemTo any one who had those lights divineSeen come towards us, leaving the gyrationBegun at first in the high Seraphim.And behind those that most in front appearedSounded “Osanna!” so that never sinceTo hear again was I without desire.Then unto us more nearly one approached,And it alone began: “We all are readyUnto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.We turn around with the celestial Princes,One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,To whom thou in the world of old didst say,‘Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;’And are so full of love, to pleasure theeA little quiet will not be less sweet.”After these eyes of mine themselves had offeredUnto my Lady reverently, and sheContent and certain of herself had made them,Back to the light they turned, which so great promiseMade of itself, and “Say, who art thou?” wasMy voice, imprinted with a great affection.O how and how much I beheld it growWith the new joy that superadded wasUnto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!Thus changed, it said to me: “The world possessed meShort time below; and, if it had been more,Much evil will be which would not have been.My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide meLike as a creature swathed in its own silk.Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;For had I been below, I should have shown theeSomewhat beyond the foliage of my love.That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itselfIn Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,Me for its lord awaited in due time,And that horn of Ausonia, which is townedWith Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.Already flashed upon my brow the crownOf that dominion which the Danube watersAfter the German borders it abandons;And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky’Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulfWhich greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,Would have awaited her own monarchs still,Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,If evil lordship, that exasperates everThe subject populations, had not movedPalermo to the outcry of ‘Death! death!’And if my brother could but this foresee,The greedy poverty of CataloniaStraight would he flee, that it might not molest him;For verily ’tis needful to provide,Through him or other, so that on his barkAlready freighted no more freight be placed.His nature, which from liberal covetousDescended, such a soldiery would needAs should not care for hoarding in a chest.”“Because I do believe the lofty joyThy speech infuses into me, my Lord,Where every good thing doth begin and endThou seest as I see it, the more gratefulIs it to me; and this too hold I dear,That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth.”This I to him; and he to me: “If ICan show to thee a truth, to what thou askestThy face thou’lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.The Good which all the realm thou art ascendingTurns and contents, maketh its providenceTo be a power within these bodies vast;And not alone the natures are foreseenWithin the mind that in itself is perfect,But they together with their preservation.For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forthFalls foreordained unto an end foreseen,Even as a shaft directed to its mark.If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walkWould in such manner its effects produce,That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.This cannot be, if the IntelligencesThat keep these stars in motion are not maimed,And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?”And I: “Not so; for ’tis impossibleThat nature tire, I see, in what is needful.”Whence he again: “Now say, would it be worseFor men on earth were they not citizens?”“Yes,” I replied; “and here I ask no reason.”“And can they be so, if below they live notDiversely unto offices diverse?No, if your master writeth well for you.”So came he with deductions to this point;Then he concluded: “Therefore it behovesThe roots of your effects to be diverse.Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,Another Melchisedec, and another heWho, flying through the air, his son did lose.Revolving Nature, which a signet isTo mortal wax, doth practise well her art,But not one inn distinguish from another;Thence happens it that Esau differethIn seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comesFrom sire so vile that he is given to Mars.A generated nature its own wayWould always make like its progenitors,If Providence divine were not triumphant.Now that which was behind thee is before thee;But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,With a corollary will I mantle thee.Evermore nature, if it fortune findDiscordant to it, like each other seedOut of its region, maketh evil thrift;And if the world below would fix its mindOn the foundation which is laid by nature,Pursuing that, ’twould have the people good.But you unto religion wrench asideHim who was born to gird him with the sword,And make a king of him who is for sermons;Therefore your footsteps wander from the road.”
The world used in its peril to believeThat the fair Cypria delirious loveRayed out, in the third epicycle turning;
Wherefore not only unto her paid honourOf sacrifices and of votive cryThe ancient nations in the ancient error,
But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,That as her mother, this one as her son,And said that he had sat in Dido’s lap;
And they from her, whence I beginning take,Took the denomination of the starThat woos the sun, now following, now in front.
I was not ware of our ascending to it;But of our being in it gave full faithMy Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.
And as within a flame a spark is seen,And as within a voice a voice discerned,When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,
Within that light beheld I other lampsMove in a circle, speeding more and less,Methinks in measure of their inward vision.
From a cold cloud descended never winds,Or visible or not, so rapidlyThey would not laggard and impeded seem
To any one who had those lights divineSeen come towards us, leaving the gyrationBegun at first in the high Seraphim.
And behind those that most in front appearedSounded “Osanna!” so that never sinceTo hear again was I without desire.
Then unto us more nearly one approached,And it alone began: “We all are readyUnto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.
We turn around with the celestial Princes,One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,To whom thou in the world of old didst say,
‘Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;’And are so full of love, to pleasure theeA little quiet will not be less sweet.”
After these eyes of mine themselves had offeredUnto my Lady reverently, and sheContent and certain of herself had made them,
Back to the light they turned, which so great promiseMade of itself, and “Say, who art thou?” wasMy voice, imprinted with a great affection.
O how and how much I beheld it growWith the new joy that superadded wasUnto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!
Thus changed, it said to me: “The world possessed meShort time below; and, if it had been more,Much evil will be which would not have been.
My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide meLike as a creature swathed in its own silk.
Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;For had I been below, I should have shown theeSomewhat beyond the foliage of my love.
That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itselfIn Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,Me for its lord awaited in due time,
And that horn of Ausonia, which is townedWith Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.
Already flashed upon my brow the crownOf that dominion which the Danube watersAfter the German borders it abandons;
And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky’Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulfWhich greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)
Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,Would have awaited her own monarchs still,Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,
If evil lordship, that exasperates everThe subject populations, had not movedPalermo to the outcry of ‘Death! death!’
And if my brother could but this foresee,The greedy poverty of CataloniaStraight would he flee, that it might not molest him;
For verily ’tis needful to provide,Through him or other, so that on his barkAlready freighted no more freight be placed.
His nature, which from liberal covetousDescended, such a soldiery would needAs should not care for hoarding in a chest.”
“Because I do believe the lofty joyThy speech infuses into me, my Lord,Where every good thing doth begin and end
Thou seest as I see it, the more gratefulIs it to me; and this too hold I dear,That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.
Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth.”
This I to him; and he to me: “If ICan show to thee a truth, to what thou askestThy face thou’lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.
The Good which all the realm thou art ascendingTurns and contents, maketh its providenceTo be a power within these bodies vast;
And not alone the natures are foreseenWithin the mind that in itself is perfect,But they together with their preservation.
For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forthFalls foreordained unto an end foreseen,Even as a shaft directed to its mark.
If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walkWould in such manner its effects produce,That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.
This cannot be, if the IntelligencesThat keep these stars in motion are not maimed,And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.
Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?”And I: “Not so; for ’tis impossibleThat nature tire, I see, in what is needful.”
Whence he again: “Now say, would it be worseFor men on earth were they not citizens?”“Yes,” I replied; “and here I ask no reason.”
“And can they be so, if below they live notDiversely unto offices diverse?No, if your master writeth well for you.”
So came he with deductions to this point;Then he concluded: “Therefore it behovesThe roots of your effects to be diverse.
Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,Another Melchisedec, and another heWho, flying through the air, his son did lose.
Revolving Nature, which a signet isTo mortal wax, doth practise well her art,But not one inn distinguish from another;
Thence happens it that Esau differethIn seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comesFrom sire so vile that he is given to Mars.
A generated nature its own wayWould always make like its progenitors,If Providence divine were not triumphant.
Now that which was behind thee is before thee;But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,With a corollary will I mantle thee.
Evermore nature, if it fortune findDiscordant to it, like each other seedOut of its region, maketh evil thrift;
And if the world below would fix its mindOn the foundation which is laid by nature,Pursuing that, ’twould have the people good.
But you unto religion wrench asideHim who was born to gird him with the sword,And make a king of him who is for sermons;
Therefore your footsteps wander from the road.”