CANTO XIIILet him, who would conceive what now I saw,Imagine (and retain the image firm,As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak),Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal hostSelected, that, with lively ray serene,O’ercome the massiest air: thereto imagineThe wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,Spins ever on its axle night and day,With the bright summit of that horn which swellsDue from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,T’ have rang’d themselves in fashion of two signsIn heav’n, such as Ariadne made,When death’s chill seized her; and that one of themDid compass in the other’s beam; and bothIn such sort whirl around, that each should tendWith opposite motion and, conceiving thus,Of that true constellation, and the danceTwofold, that circled me, he shall attainAs ’t were the shadow; for things there as muchSurpass our usage, as the swiftest heav’nIs swifter than the Chiana. There was sungNo Bacchus, and no Io Paean, butThree Persons in the Godhead, and in oneSubstance that nature and the human join’d.The song fulfill’d its measure; and to usThose saintly lights attended, happier madeAt each new minist’ring. Then silence brake,Amid th’ accordant sons of Deity,That luminary, in which the wondrous lifeOf the meek man of God was told to me;And thus it spake: “One ear o’ th’ harvest thresh’d,And its grain safely stor’d, sweet charityInvites me with the other to like toil.“Thou know’st, that in the bosom, whence the ribWas ta’en to fashion that fair cheek, whose tasteAll the world pays for, and in that, which pierc’dBy the keen lance, both after and beforeSuch satisfaction offer’d, as outweighsEach evil in the scale, whate’er of lightTo human nature is allow’d, must allHave by his virtue been infus’d, who form’dBoth one and other: and thou thence admir’stIn that I told thee, of beatitudesA second, there is none, to his enclos’dIn the fifth radiance. Open now thine eyesTo what I answer thee; and thou shalt seeThy deeming and my saying meet in truth,As centre in the round. That which dies not,And that which can die, are but each the beamOf that idea, which our Soverign SireEngendereth loving; for that lively light,Which passeth from his brightness; not disjoin’dFrom him, nor from his love triune with them,Doth, through his bounty, congregate itself,Mirror’d, as ’t were in new existences,Itself unalterable and ever one.“Descending hence unto the lowest powers,Its energy so sinks, at last it makesBut brief contingencies: for so I nameThings generated, which the heav’nly orbsMoving, with seed or without seed, produce.Their wax, and that which molds it, differ much:And thence with lustre, more or less, it showsTh’ ideal stamp impress: so that one treeAccording to his kind, hath better fruit,And worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men,Are in your talents various. Were the waxMolded with nice exactness, and the heav’nIn its disposing influence supreme,The lustre of the seal should be complete:But nature renders it imperfect ever,Resembling thus the artist in her work,Whose faultering hand is faithless to his skill.Howe’er, if love itself dispose, and markThe primal virtue, kindling with bright view,There all perfection is vouchsafed; and suchThe clay was made, accomplish’d with each gift,That life can teem with; such the burden fill’dThe virgin’s bosom: so that I commendThy judgment, that the human nature ne’erWas or can be, such as in them it was.“Did I advance no further than this point,‘How then had he no peer?’ thou might’st reply.But, that what now appears not, may appearRight plainly, ponder, who he was, and what(When he was bidden ‘Ask’), the motive sway’dTo his requesting. I have spoken thus,That thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask’dFor wisdom, to the end he might be kingSufficient: not the number to search outOf the celestial movers; or to know,If necessary with contingent e’erHave made necessity; or whether thatBe granted, that first motion is; or ifOf the mid circle can, by art, be madeTriangle with each corner, blunt or sharp.“Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this,Thou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn,At which the dart of my intention aims.And, marking clearly, that I told thee, ‘Risen,’Thou shalt discern it only hath respectTo kings, of whom are many, and the goodAre rare. With this distinction take my words;And they may well consist with that which thouOf the first human father dost believe,And of our well-beloved. And let thisHenceforth be led unto thy feet, to makeThee slow in motion, as a weary man,Both to the ‘yea’ and to the ‘nay’ thou seest not.For he among the fools is down full low,Whose affirmation, or denial, isWithout distinction, in each case alikeSince it befalls, that in most instancesCurrent opinion leads to false: and thenAffection bends the judgment to her ply.“Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore,Since he returns not such as he set forth,Who fishes for the truth and wanteth skill.And open proofs of this unto the worldHave been afforded in Parmenides,Melissus, Bryso, and the crowd beside,Who journey’d on, and knew not whither: so didSabellius, Arius, and the other fools,Who, like to scymitars, reflected backThe scripture-image, by distortion marr’d.“Let not the people be too swift to judge,As one who reckons on the blades in field,Or ere the crop be ripe. For I have seenThe thorn frown rudely all the winter longAnd after bear the rose upon its top;And bark, that all the way across the seaRan straight and speedy, perish at the last,E’en in the haven’s mouth seeing one steal,Another brine, his offering to the priest,Let not Dame Birtha and Sir Martin thenceInto heav’n’s counsels deem that they can pry:For one of these may rise, the other fall.”
Let him, who would conceive what now I saw,Imagine (and retain the image firm,As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak),Of stars fifteen, from midst the ethereal hostSelected, that, with lively ray serene,O’ercome the massiest air: thereto imagineThe wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,Spins ever on its axle night and day,With the bright summit of that horn which swellsDue from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,T’ have rang’d themselves in fashion of two signsIn heav’n, such as Ariadne made,When death’s chill seized her; and that one of themDid compass in the other’s beam; and bothIn such sort whirl around, that each should tendWith opposite motion and, conceiving thus,Of that true constellation, and the danceTwofold, that circled me, he shall attainAs ’t were the shadow; for things there as muchSurpass our usage, as the swiftest heav’nIs swifter than the Chiana. There was sungNo Bacchus, and no Io Paean, butThree Persons in the Godhead, and in oneSubstance that nature and the human join’d.The song fulfill’d its measure; and to usThose saintly lights attended, happier madeAt each new minist’ring. Then silence brake,Amid th’ accordant sons of Deity,That luminary, in which the wondrous lifeOf the meek man of God was told to me;And thus it spake: “One ear o’ th’ harvest thresh’d,And its grain safely stor’d, sweet charityInvites me with the other to like toil.“Thou know’st, that in the bosom, whence the ribWas ta’en to fashion that fair cheek, whose tasteAll the world pays for, and in that, which pierc’dBy the keen lance, both after and beforeSuch satisfaction offer’d, as outweighsEach evil in the scale, whate’er of lightTo human nature is allow’d, must allHave by his virtue been infus’d, who form’dBoth one and other: and thou thence admir’stIn that I told thee, of beatitudesA second, there is none, to his enclos’dIn the fifth radiance. Open now thine eyesTo what I answer thee; and thou shalt seeThy deeming and my saying meet in truth,As centre in the round. That which dies not,And that which can die, are but each the beamOf that idea, which our Soverign SireEngendereth loving; for that lively light,Which passeth from his brightness; not disjoin’dFrom him, nor from his love triune with them,Doth, through his bounty, congregate itself,Mirror’d, as ’t were in new existences,Itself unalterable and ever one.“Descending hence unto the lowest powers,Its energy so sinks, at last it makesBut brief contingencies: for so I nameThings generated, which the heav’nly orbsMoving, with seed or without seed, produce.Their wax, and that which molds it, differ much:And thence with lustre, more or less, it showsTh’ ideal stamp impress: so that one treeAccording to his kind, hath better fruit,And worse: and, at your birth, ye, mortal men,Are in your talents various. Were the waxMolded with nice exactness, and the heav’nIn its disposing influence supreme,The lustre of the seal should be complete:But nature renders it imperfect ever,Resembling thus the artist in her work,Whose faultering hand is faithless to his skill.Howe’er, if love itself dispose, and markThe primal virtue, kindling with bright view,There all perfection is vouchsafed; and suchThe clay was made, accomplish’d with each gift,That life can teem with; such the burden fill’dThe virgin’s bosom: so that I commendThy judgment, that the human nature ne’erWas or can be, such as in them it was.“Did I advance no further than this point,‘How then had he no peer?’ thou might’st reply.But, that what now appears not, may appearRight plainly, ponder, who he was, and what(When he was bidden ‘Ask’), the motive sway’dTo his requesting. I have spoken thus,That thou mayst see, he was a king, who ask’dFor wisdom, to the end he might be kingSufficient: not the number to search outOf the celestial movers; or to know,If necessary with contingent e’erHave made necessity; or whether thatBe granted, that first motion is; or ifOf the mid circle can, by art, be madeTriangle with each corner, blunt or sharp.“Whence, noting that, which I have said, and this,Thou kingly prudence and that ken mayst learn,At which the dart of my intention aims.And, marking clearly, that I told thee, ‘Risen,’Thou shalt discern it only hath respectTo kings, of whom are many, and the goodAre rare. With this distinction take my words;And they may well consist with that which thouOf the first human father dost believe,And of our well-beloved. And let thisHenceforth be led unto thy feet, to makeThee slow in motion, as a weary man,Both to the ‘yea’ and to the ‘nay’ thou seest not.For he among the fools is down full low,Whose affirmation, or denial, isWithout distinction, in each case alikeSince it befalls, that in most instancesCurrent opinion leads to false: and thenAffection bends the judgment to her ply.“Much more than vainly doth he loose from shore,Since he returns not such as he set forth,Who fishes for the truth and wanteth skill.And open proofs of this unto the worldHave been afforded in Parmenides,Melissus, Bryso, and the crowd beside,Who journey’d on, and knew not whither: so didSabellius, Arius, and the other fools,Who, like to scymitars, reflected backThe scripture-image, by distortion marr’d.“Let not the people be too swift to judge,As one who reckons on the blades in field,Or ere the crop be ripe. For I have seenThe thorn frown rudely all the winter longAnd after bear the rose upon its top;And bark, that all the way across the seaRan straight and speedy, perish at the last,E’en in the haven’s mouth seeing one steal,Another brine, his offering to the priest,Let not Dame Birtha and Sir Martin thenceInto heav’n’s counsels deem that they can pry:For one of these may rise, the other fall.”