THE VISION OF PARADISE, Part 2. By Dante Alighieri, Illustrated by Dore Project Gutenberg's The Vision of Paradise, Part 2., by Dante Alighieri This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: The Vision of Paradise, Part 2. Author: Dante Alighieri Release Date: August 2, 2004 [EBook #8797] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VISION OF PARADISE, PART 2. *** Produced by David Widger THE VISION OF, HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE BY DANTE ALIGHIERI PARADISE Part Two TRANSLATED BY THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A. Click on Any Image to Enlarge It coverth.jpg (42K) front2.jpg (41K) title2.jpg (21K) PARADISE LIST OF CANTOS Canto 15 Canto 16 Canto 17 Canto 18 Canto 19 Canto 20 Canto 21 CANTO XV True love, that ever shows itself as clear In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'd The sacred chords, that are by heav'n's right hand Unwound and tighten'd, flow to righteous prayers Should they not hearken, who, to give me will For praying, in accordance thus were mute? He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief, Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, Despoils himself forever of that love. As oft along the still and pure serene, At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire, Attracting with involuntary heed The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest, And seems some star that shifted place in heav'n, Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost, And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn, That on the dexter of the cross extends, Down to its foot, one luminary ran From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem Dropp'd from its foil; and through the beamy list Like flame in alabaster, glow'd its course. So forward stretch'd him (if of credence aught Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost Of old Anchises, in the' Elysian bower, When he perceiv'd his son. "O thou, my blood! O most exceeding grace divine! to whom, As now to thee, hath twice the heav'nly gate Been e'er unclos'd?" so spake the light; whence I Turn'd me toward him; then unto my dame My sight directed, and on either side Amazement waited me; for in her eyes Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine Had div'd unto the bottom of my grace And of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith To hearing and to sight grateful alike, The spirit to his proem added things I understood not, so profound he spake; Yet not of choice but through necessity Mysterious; for his high conception scar'd Beyond the mark of mortals. When the flight Of holy transport had so spent its rage, That nearer to the level of our thought The speech descended, the first sounds I heard Were, "Best he thou, Triunal Deity! That hast such favour in my seed vouchsaf'd!" Then follow'd: "No unpleasant thirst, tho' long, Which took me reading in the sacred book, Whose leaves or white or dusky never change, Thou hast allay'd, my son, within this light, From whence my voice thou hear'st; more thanks to her. Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes Begirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me From him transmitted, who is first of all, E'en as all numbers ray from unity; And therefore dost not ask me who I am, Or why to thee more joyous I appear, Than any other in this gladsome throng. The truth is as thou deem'st; for in this hue Both less and greater in that mirror look, In which thy thoughts, or ere thou think'st, are shown. But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever, Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire, May be contended fully, let thy voice, Fearless, and frank and jocund, utter forth Thy will distinctly, utter forth the wish, Whereto my ready answer stands decreed." I turn'd me to Beatrice; and she heard Ere I had spoken, smiling, an assent, That to my will gave wings; and I began "To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn'd The nature, in whom naught unequal dwells, Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt; For that they are so equal in the sun, From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat, As makes all likeness scant. But will and means, In mortals, for the cause ye well discern, With unlike wings are fledge. A mortal I Experience inequality like this, And therefore give no thanks, but in the heart, For thy paternal greeting. This howe'er I pray thee, living topaz! that ingemm'st This precious jewel, let me hear thy name." "I am thy root, O leaf! whom to expect Even, hath pleas'd me:" thus the prompt reply Prefacing, next it added: "he, of whom Thy kindred appellation comes, and who, These hundred years and more, on its first ledge Hath circuited the mountain, was my son And thy great grandsire. Well befits, his long Endurance should be shorten'd by thy deeds. "Florence, within her ancient limit-mark, Which calls her still to matin prayers and noon, Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace. She had no armlets and no head-tires then, No purfled dames, no zone, that caught the eye More than the person did. Time was not yet, When at his daughter's birth the sire grew pale. For fear the age and dowry should exceed On each side just proportion. House was none Void of its family; nor yet had come Hardanapalus, to exhibit feats Of chamber prowess. Montemalo yet O'er our suburban turret rose; as much To be surpass in fall, as in its rising. I saw Bellincione Berti walk abroad In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone; And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks, His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw Of Nerli and of Vecchio well content With unrob'd jerkin; and their good dames handling The spindle and the flax; O happy they! Each sure of burial in her native land, And none left desolate a-bed for France! One wak'd to tend the cradle, hushing it With sounds that lull'd the parent's infancy: Another, with her maidens, drawing off The tresses from the distaff, lectur'd them Old tales of Troy and Fesole and Rome. A Salterello and Cianghella we Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would A Cincinnatus or Cornelia now. "In such compos'd and seemly fellowship, Such faithful and such fair equality, In so sweet household, Mary at my birth Bestow'd me, call'd on with loud cries; and there In your old baptistery, I was made Christian at once and Cacciaguida; as were My brethren, Eliseo and Moronto. "From Valdipado came to me my spouse, And hence thy surname grew. I follow'd then The Emperor Conrad; and his knighthood he Did gird on me; in such good part he took My valiant service. After him I went To testify against that evil law, Whose people, by the shepherd's fault, possess Your right, usurping. There, by that foul crew Was I releas'd from the deceitful world, Whose base affection many a spirit soils, And from the martyrdom came to this peace." CANTO XVI O slight respect of man's nobility! I never shall account it marvelous, That our infirm affection here below Thou mov'st to boasting, when I could not choose, E'en in that region of unwarp'd desire, In heav'n itself, but make my vaunt in thee! Yet cloak thou art soon shorten'd, for that time, Unless thou be eked out from day to day, Goes round thee with his shears. Resuming then With greeting such, as Rome, was first to bear, But since hath disaccustom'd I began; And Beatrice, that a little space Was sever'd, smil'd reminding me of her, Whose cough embolden'd (as the story holds) To first offence the doubting Guenever. "You are my sire," said I, "you give me heart Freely to speak my thought: above myself You raise me. Through so many streams with joy My soul is fill'd, that gladness wells from it; So that it bears the mighty tide, and bursts not Say then, my honour'd stem! what ancestors Where those you sprang from, and what years were mark'd In your first childhood? Tell me of the fold, That hath Saint John for guardian, what was then Its state, and who in it were highest seated?" As embers, at the breathing of the wind, Their flame enliven, so that light I saw Shine at my blandishments; and, as it grew More fair to look on, so with voice more sweet, Yet not in this our modern phrase, forthwith It answer'd: "From the day, when it was said 'Hail Virgin!' to the throes, by which my mother, Who now is sainted, lighten'd her of me Whom she was heavy with, this fire had come, Five hundred fifty times and thrice, its beams To reilumine underneath the foot Of its own lion. They, of whom I sprang, And I, had there our birth-place, where the last Partition of our city first is reach'd By him, that runs her annual game. Thus much Suffice of my forefathers: who they were, And whence they hither came, more honourable It is to pass in silence than to tell. All those, who in that time were there from Mars Until the Baptist, fit to carry arms, Were but the fifth of them this day alive. But then the citizen's blood, that now is mix'd From Campi and Certaldo and Fighine, Ran purely through the last mechanic's veins. O how much better were it, that these people Were neighbours to you, and that at Galluzzo And at Trespiano, ye should have your bound'ry, Than to have them within, and bear the stench Of Aguglione's hind, and Signa's, him, That hath his eye already keen for bart'ring! Had not the people, which of all the world Degenerates most, been stepdame unto Caesar, But, as a mother, gracious to her son; Such one, as hath become a Florentine, And trades and traffics, had been turn'd adrift To Simifonte, where his grandsire ply'd The beggar's craft. The Conti were possess'd Of Montemurlo still: the Cerchi still Were in Acone's parish; nor had haply From Valdigrieve past the Buondelmonte. The city's malady hath ever source In the confusion of its persons, as The body's, in variety of food: And the blind bull falls with a steeper plunge, Than the blind lamb; and oftentimes one sword Doth more and better execution, Than five. Mark Luni, Urbisaglia mark, How they are gone, and after them how go Chiusi and Sinigaglia; and 't will seem No longer new or strange to thee to hear, That families fail, when cities have their end. All things, that appertain t' ye, like yourselves, Are mortal: but mortality in some Ye mark not, they endure so long, and you Pass by so suddenly. And as the moon Doth, by the rolling of her heav'nly sphere, Hide and reveal the strand unceasingly; So fortune deals with Florence. Hence admire not At what of them I tell thee, whose renown Time covers, the first Florentines. I saw The Ughi, Catilini and Filippi, The Alberichi, Greci and Ormanni, Now in their wane, illustrious citizens: And great as ancient, of Sannella him, With him of Arca saw, and Soldanieri And Ardinghi, and Bostichi. At the poop, That now is laden with new felony, So cumb'rous it may speedily sink the bark, The Ravignani sat, of whom is sprung The County Guido, and whoso hath since His title from the fam'd Bellincione ta'en. Fair governance was yet an art well priz'd By him of Pressa: Galigaio show'd The gilded hilt and pommel, in his house. The column, cloth'd with verrey, still was seen Unshaken: the Sacchetti still were great, Giouchi, Sifanti, Galli and Barucci, With them who blush to hear the bushel nam'd. Of the Calfucci still the branchy trunk Was in its strength: and to the curule chairs Sizii and Arigucci yet were drawn. How mighty them I saw, whom since their pride Hath undone! and in all her goodly deeds Florence was by the bullets of bright gold O'erflourish'd. Such the sires of those, who now, As surely as your church is vacant, flock Into her consistory, and at leisure There stall them and grow fat. The o'erweening brood, That plays the dragon after him that flees, But unto such, as turn and show the tooth, Ay or the purse, is gentle as a lamb, Was on its rise, but yet so slight esteem'd, That Ubertino of Donati grudg'd His father-in-law should yoke him to its tribe. Already Caponsacco had descended Into the mart from Fesole: and Giuda And Infangato were good citizens. A thing incredible I tell, tho' true: The gateway, named from those of Pera, led Into the narrow circuit of your walls. Each one, who bears the sightly quarterings Of the great Baron (he whose name and worth The festival of Thomas still revives) His knighthood and his privilege retain'd; Albeit one, who borders them With gold, This day is mingled with the common herd. In Borgo yet the Gualterotti dwelt, And Importuni: well for its repose Had it still lack'd of newer neighbourhood. The house, from whence your tears have had their spring, Through the just anger that hath murder'd ye And put a period to your gladsome days, Was honour'd, it, and those consorted with it. O Buondelmonte! what ill counseling Prevail'd on thee to break the plighted bond Many, who now are weeping, would rejoice, Had God to Ema giv'n thee, the first time Thou near our city cam'st. But so was doom'd: On that maim'd stone set up to guard the bridge, At thy last peace, the victim, Florence! fell. With these and others like to them, I saw Florence in such assur'd tranquility, She had no cause at which to grieve: with these Saw her so glorious and so just, that ne'er The lily from the lance had hung reverse, Or through division been with vermeil dyed." 16-143th.jpg (28K) CANTO XVII Such as the youth, who came to Clymene To certify himself of that reproach, Which had been fasten'd on him, (he whose end Still makes the fathers chary to their sons), E'en such was I; nor unobserv'd was such Of Beatrice, and that saintly lamp, Who had erewhile for me his station mov'd; When thus by lady: "Give thy wish free vent, That it may issue, bearing true report Of the mind's impress; not that aught thy words May to our knowledge add, but to the end, That thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst And men may mingle for thee when they hear." "O plant! from whence I spring! rever'd and lov'd! Who soar'st so high a pitch, thou seest as clear, As earthly thought determines two obtuse In one triangle not contain'd, so clear Dost see contingencies, ere in themselves Existent, looking at the point whereto All times are present, I, the whilst I scal'd With Virgil the soul purifying mount, And visited the nether world of woe, Touching my future destiny have heard Words grievous, though I feel me on all sides Well squar'd to fortune's blows. Therefore my will Were satisfied to know the lot awaits me, The arrow, seen beforehand, slacks its flight." So said I to the brightness, which erewhile To me had spoken, and my will declar'd, As Beatrice will'd, explicitly. Nor with oracular response obscure, Such, as or ere the Lamb of God was slain, Beguil'd the credulous nations; but, in terms Precise and unambiguous lore, replied The spirit of paternal love, enshrin'd, Yet in his smile apparent; and thus spake: "Contingency, unfolded not to view Upon the tablet of your mortal mold, Is all depictur'd in the' eternal sight; But hence deriveth not necessity, More then the tall ship, hurried down the flood, Doth from the vision, that reflects the scene. From thence, as to the ear sweet harmony From organ comes, so comes before mine eye The time prepar'd for thee. Such as driv'n out From Athens, by his cruel stepdame's wiles, Hippolytus departed, such must thou Depart from Florence. This they wish, and this Contrive, and will ere long effectuate, there, Where gainful merchandize is made of Christ, Throughout the livelong day. The common cry, Will, as 't is ever wont, affix the blame Unto the party injur'd: but the truth Shall, in the vengeance it dispenseth, find A faithful witness. Thou shall leave each thing Belov'd most dearly: this is the first shaft Shot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove How salt the savour is of other's bread, How hard the passage to descend and climb By other's stairs, But that shall gall thee most Will be the worthless and vile company, With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. For all ungrateful, impious all and mad, Shall turn 'gainst thee: but in a little while Theirs and not thine shall be the crimson'd brow Their course shall so evince their brutishness T' have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee. "First refuge thou must find, first place of rest, In the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears Upon the ladder perch'd the sacred bird. He shall behold thee with such kind regard, That 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that Which falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall Forerun the asking. With him shalt thou see That mortal, who was at his birth impress So strongly from this star, that of his deeds The nations shall take note. His unripe age Yet holds him from observance; for these wheels Only nine years have compass him about. But, ere the Gascon practice on great Harry, Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him, In equal scorn of labours and of gold. His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely, As not to let the tongues e'en of his foes Be idle in its praise. Look thou to him And his beneficence: for he shall cause Reversal of their lot to many people, Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes. And thou shalt bear this written in thy soul Of him, but tell it not;" and things he told Incredible to those who witness them; Then added: "So interpret thou, my son, What hath been told thee.—Lo! the ambushment That a few circling seasons hide for thee! Yet envy not thy neighbours: time extends Thy span beyond their treason's chastisement." Soon, as the saintly spirit, by his silence, Had shown the web, which I had streteh'd for him Upon the warp, was woven, I began, As one, who in perplexity desires Counsel of other, wise, benign and friendly: "My father! well I mark how time spurs on Toward me, ready to inflict the blow, Which falls most heavily on him, who most Abandoned himself. Therefore 't is good I should forecast, that driven from the place Most dear to me, I may not lose myself All others by my song. Down through the world Of infinite mourning, and along the mount From whose fair height my lady's eyes did lift me, And after through this heav'n from light to light, Have I learnt that, which if I tell again, It may with many woefully disrelish; And, if I am a timid friend to truth, I fear my life may perish among those, To whom these days shall be of ancient date." The brightness, where enclos'd the treasure smil'd, Which I had found there, first shone glisteningly, Like to a golden mirror in the sun; Next answer'd: "Conscience, dimm'd or by its own Or other's shame, will feel thy saying sharp. Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit remov'd, See the whole vision be made manifest. And let them wince who have their withers wrung. What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove Unwelcome, on digestion it will turn To vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest, Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits; Which is of honour no light argument, For this there only have been shown to thee, Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep, Spirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce And fix its faith, unless the instance brought Be palpable, and proof apparent urge." CANTO XVIII CANTO XVIII Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine, Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile, Who led me unto God, admonish'd: "Muse On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him I 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 distrust Of my words only, but that to such bliss The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz'd on her, Affection found no room for other wish. While the everlasting pleasure, that did full On Beatrice shine, with second view From her fair countenance my gladden'd soul Contented; vanquishing me with a beam Of her soft smile, she spake: "Turn thee, and list. These eyes are not thy only Paradise." As here we sometimes in the looks may see Th' affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en The spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light, To whom I turn'd, flashing, bewray'd its will To talk yet further with me, and began: "On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair And leaf unwith'ring, blessed spirits abide, That were below, ere they arriv'd in heav'n, So mighty in renown, as every muse Might grace her triumph with them. On the horns Look therefore of the cross: he, whom I name, Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloud Its 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 saw Of the great Maccabee, another move With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge Unto that top. The next for Charlemagne And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues A falcon flying. Last, along the cross, William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew My ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul, Who spake with me among the other lights Did move away, and mix; and with the choir Of heav'nly songsters prov'd his tuneful skill. To Beatrice on my right l bent, Looking for intimation or by word Or act, what next behoov'd: and did descry Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy, It past all former wont. And, as by sense Of new delight, the man, who perseveres In good deeds doth perceive from day to day His virtue growing; I e'en thus perceiv'd Of my ascent, together with the heav'n The circuit widen'd, noting the increase Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change In a brief moment on some maiden's cheek, Which from its fairness doth discharge the weight Of 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 sparks Of love, that reign'd there, fashion to my view Our language. And as birds, from river banks Arisen, 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 made Now D. now I. now L. figur'd I' th' air. 18-70th.jpg (35K) First, singing, to their notes they mov'd, then one Becoming of these signs, a little while Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine Of Pegasean race! whose souls, which thou Inspir'st, mak'st glorious and long-liv'd, as they Cities and realms by thee! thou with thyself Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes, As fancy doth present them. Be thy power Display'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 extreme Qui 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 saw Descending other lights, that rested there, Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good. Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand, Sparkles innumerable on all sides Rise scatter'd, source of augury to th' unwise; Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence Seem'd reascending, and a higher pitch Some mounting, and some less; e'en as the sun, Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one Had settled in his place, the head and neck Then saw I of an eagle, lively Grav'd in that streaky fire. Who painteth there, Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides; And every line and texture of the nest Doth own from him the virtue, fashions it. The other bright beatitude, that seem'd Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content To over-canopy the M. mov'd forth, Following gently the impress of the bird. Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gems Declar'd to me our justice on the earth To be the effluence of that heav'n, which thou, Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay! Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom Thy motion and thy virtue are begun, That he would look from whence the fog doth rise, To vitiate thy beam: so that once more He may put forth his hand 'gainst such, as drive Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls With miracles and martyrdoms were built.