Foul usury doth not more lift itself Against G.o.d's pleasure, than that fruit which makes The hearts of monks so wanton: for whate'er Is in the church's keeping, all pertains.
To such, as sue for heav'n's sweet sake, and not To those who in respect of kindred claim, Or on more vile allowance. Mortal flesh Is grown so dainty, good beginnings last not From the oak's birth, unto the acorn's setting.
His convent Peter founded without gold Or silver; I with pray'rs and fasting mine; And Francis his in meek humility.
And if thou note the point, whence each proceeds, Then look what it hath err'd to, thou shalt find The white grown murky. Jordan was turn'd back; And a less wonder, then the refluent sea, May at G.o.d's pleasure work amendment here."
So saying, to his a.s.sembly back he drew: And they together cl.u.s.ter'd into one, Then all roll'd upward like an eddying wind.
The sweet dame beckon'd me to follow them: And, by that influence only, so prevail'd Over my nature, that no natural motion, Ascending or descending here below, Had, as I mounted, with my pennon vied.
So, reader, as my hope is to return Unto the holy triumph, for the which I ofttimes wail my sins, and smite my breast, Thou hadst been longer drawing out and thrusting Thy finger in the fire, than I was, ere The sign, that followeth Taurus, I beheld, And enter'd its precinct. O glorious stars!
O light impregnate with exceeding virtue!
To whom whate'er of genius lifteth me Above the vulgar, grateful I refer; With ye the parent of all mortal life Arose and set, when I did first inhale The Tuscan air; and afterward, when grace Vouchsaf'd me entrance to the lofty wheel That in its...o...b..impels ye, fate decreed My pa.s.sage at your clime. To you my soul Devoutly sighs, for virtue even now To meet the hard emprize that draws me on.
"Thou art so near the sum of blessedness,"
Said Beatrice, "that behooves thy ken Be vigilant and clear. And, to this end, Or even thou advance thee further, hence Look downward, and contemplate, what a world Already stretched under our feet there lies: So as thy heart may, in its blithest mood, Present itself to the triumphal throng, Which through the' etherial concave comes rejoicing."
I straight obey'd; and with mine eye return'd Through all the seven spheres, and saw this globe So pitiful of semblance, that perforce It moved my smiles: and him in truth I hold For wisest, who esteems it least: whose thoughts Elsewhere are fix'd, him worthiest call and best.
I saw the daughter of Latona shine Without the shadow, whereof late I deem'd That dense and rare were cause. Here I sustain'd The visage, Hyperion! of thy sun; And mark'd, how near him with their circle, round Move Maia and Dione; here discern'd Jove's tempering 'twixt his sire and son; and hence Their changes and their various aspects Distinctly scann'd. Nor might I not descry Of all the seven, how bulky each, how swift; Nor of their several distances not learn.
This petty area (o'er the which we stride So fiercely), as along the eternal twins I wound my way, appear'd before me all, Forth from the havens stretch'd unto the hills.
Then to the beauteous eyes mine eyes return'd.
CANTO XXIII
E'en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night, With her sweet brood, impatient to descry Their wished looks, and to bring home their food, In the fond quest unconscious of her toil: She, of the time prevenient, on the spray, That overhangs their couch, with wakeful gaze Expects the sun; nor ever, till the dawn, Removeth from the east her eager ken; So stood the dame erect, and bent her glance Wistfully on that region, where the sun Abateth most his speed; that, seeing her Suspense and wand'ring, I became as one, In whom desire is waken'd, and the hope Of somewhat new to come fills with delight.
Short s.p.a.ce ensued; I was not held, I say, Long in expectance, when I saw the heav'n Wax more and more resplendent; and, "Behold,"
Cried Beatrice, "the triumphal hosts Of Christ, and all the harvest reap'd at length Of thy ascending up these spheres." Meseem'd, That, while she spake her image all did burn, And in her eyes such fullness was of joy, And I am fain to pa.s.s unconstrued by.
As in the calm full moon, when Trivia smiles, In peerless beauty, 'mid th' eternal nympus, That paint through all its gulfs the blue profound In bright pre-eminence so saw I there, O'er million lamps a sun, from whom all drew Their radiance as from ours the starry train: And through the living light so l.u.s.trous glow'd The substance, that my ken endur'd it not.
O Beatrice! sweet and precious guide!
Who cheer'd me with her comfortable words!
"Against the virtue, that o'erpow'reth thee, Avails not to resist. Here is the might, And here the wisdom, which did open lay The path, that had been yearned for so long, Betwixt the heav'n and earth." Like to the fire, That, in a cloud imprison'd doth break out Expansive, so that from its womb enlarg'd, It falleth against nature to the ground; Thus in that heav'nly banqueting my soul Outgrew herself; and, in the transport lost.
Holds now remembrance none of what she was.
"Ope thou thine eyes, and mark me: thou hast seen Things, that empower thee to sustain my smile."
I was as one, when a forgotten dream Doth come across him, and he strives in vain To shape it in his fantasy again, Whenas that gracious boon was proffer'd me, Which never may be cancel'd from the book, Wherein the past is written. Now were all Those tongues to sound, that have on sweetest milk Of Polyhymnia and her sisters fed And fatten'd, not with all their help to boot, Unto the thousandth parcel of the truth, My song might shadow forth that saintly smile, flow merely in her saintly looks it wrought.
And with such figuring of Paradise The sacred strain must leap, like one, that meets A sudden interruption to his road.
But he, who thinks how ponderous the theme, And that 't is lain upon a mortal shoulder, May pardon, if it tremble with the burden.
The track, our ventrous keel must furrow, brooks No unribb'd pinnace, no self-sparing pilot.
"Why doth my face," said Beatrice, "thus Enamour thee, as that thou dost not turn Unto the beautiful garden, blossoming Beneath the rays of Christ? Here is the rose, Wherein the word divine was made incarnate; And here the lilies, by whose odour known The way of life was follow'd." Prompt I heard Her bidding, and encounter once again The strife of aching vision. As erewhile, Through glance of sunlight, stream'd through broken cloud, Mine eyes a flower-besprinkled mead have seen, Though veil'd themselves in shade; so saw I there Legions of splendours, on whom burning rays Shed lightnings from above, yet saw I not The fountain whence they flow'd. O gracious virtue!
Thou, whose broad stamp is on them, higher up Thou didst exalt thy glory to give room To my o'erlabour'd sight: when at the name Of that fair flower, whom duly I invoke Both morn and eve, my soul, with all her might Collected, on the goodliest ardour fix'd.
And, as the bright dimensions of the star In heav'n excelling, as once here on earth Were, in my eyeb.a.l.l.s lively portray'd, Lo! from within the sky a cresset fell, Circling in fashion of a diadem, And girt the star, and hov'ring round it wheel'd.
Whatever melody sounds sweetest here, And draws the spirit most unto itself, Might seem a rent cloud when it grates the thunder, Compar'd unto the sounding of that lyre, Wherewith the goodliest sapphire, that inlays The floor of heav'n, was crown'd. "Angelic Love I am, who thus with hov'ring flight enwheel The lofty rapture from that womb inspir'd, Where our desire did dwell: and round thee so, Lady of Heav'n! will hover; long as thou Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy Shall from thy presence gild the highest sphere."
Such close was to the circling melody: And, as it ended, all the other lights Took up the strain, and echoed Mary's name.
The robe, that with its regal folds enwraps The world, and with the nearer breath of G.o.d Doth burn and quiver, held so far retir'd Its inner hem and skirting over us, That yet no glimmer of its majesty Had stream'd unto me: therefore were mine eyes Unequal to pursue the crowned flame, That rose and sought its natal seed of fire; And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms For very eagerness towards the breast, After the milk is taken; so outstretch'd Their wavy summits all the fervent band, Through zealous love to Mary: then in view There halted, and "Regina Coeli" sang So sweetly, the delight hath left me never.
O what o'erflowing plenty is up-pil'd In those rich-laden coffers, which below Sow'd the good seed, whose harvest now they keep.
Here are the treasures tasted, that with tears Were in the Babylonian exile won, When gold had fail'd them. Here in synod high Of ancient council with the new conven'd, Under the Son of Mary and of G.o.d, Victorious he his mighty triumph holds, To whom the keys of glory were a.s.sign'd.
CANTO XXIV
"O ye! in chosen fellowship advanc'd To the great supper of the blessed Lamb, Whereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill'd!
If to this man through G.o.d's grace be vouchsaf'd Foretaste of that, which from your table falls, Or ever death his fated term prescribe; Be ye not heedless of his urgent will; But may some influence of your sacred dews Sprinkle him. Of the fount ye alway drink, Whence flows what most he craves." Beatrice spake, And the rejoicing spirits, like to spheres On firm-set poles revolving, trail'd a blaze Of comet splendour; and as wheels, that wind Their circles in the horologe, so work The stated rounds, that to th' observant eye The first seems still, and, as it flew, the last; E'en thus their carols weaving variously, They by the measure pac'd, or swift, or slow, Made me to rate the riches of their joy.
From that, which I did note in beauty most Excelling, saw I issue forth a flame So bright, as none was left more goodly there.
Round Beatrice thrice it wheel'd about, With so divine a song, that fancy's ear Records it not; and the pen pa.s.seth on And leaves a blank: for that our mortal speech, Nor e'en the inward shaping of the brain, Hath colours fine enough to trace such folds.
"O saintly sister mine! thy prayer devout Is with so vehement affection urg'd, Thou dost unbind me from that beauteous sphere."
Such were the accents towards my lady breath'd From that blest ardour, soon as it was stay'd: To whom she thus: "O everlasting light Of him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss He bare below! tent this man, as thou wilt, With lighter probe or deep, touching the faith, By the which thou didst on the billows walk.
If he in love, in hope, and in belief, Be steadfast, is not hid from thee: for thou Hast there thy ken, where all things are beheld In liveliest portraiture. But since true faith Has peopled this fair realm with citizens, Meet is, that to exalt its glory more, Thou in his audience shouldst thereof discourse."
Like to the bachelor, who arms himself, And speaks not, till the master have propos'd The question, to approve, and not to end it; So I, in silence, arm'd me, while she spake, Summoning up each argument to aid; As was behooveful for such questioner, And such profession: "As good Christian ought, Declare thee, What is faith?" Whereat I rais'd My forehead to the light, whence this had breath'd, Then turn'd to Beatrice, and in her looks Approval met, that from their inmost fount I should unlock the waters. "May the grace, That giveth me the captain of the church For confessor," said I, "vouchsafe to me Apt utterance for my thoughts!" then added: "Sire!
E'en as set down by the unerring style Of thy dear brother, who with thee conspir'd To bring Rome in unto the way of life, Faith of things hop'd is substance, and the proof Of things not seen; and herein doth consist Methinks its essence,"--"Rightly hast thou deem'd,"
Was answer'd: "if thou well discern, why first He hath defin'd it, substance, and then proof."
"The deep things," I replied, "which here I scan Distinctly, are below from mortal eye So hidden, they have in belief alone Their being, on which credence hope sublime Is built; and therefore substance it intends.
And inasmuch as we must needs infer From such belief our reasoning, all respect To other view excluded, hence of proof Th' intention is deriv'd." Forthwith I heard: "If thus, whate'er by learning men attain, Were understood, the sophist would want room To exercise his wit." So breath'd the flame Of love: then added: "Current is the coin Thou utter'st, both in weight and in alloy.
But tell me, if thou hast it in thy purse."
"Even so glittering and so round," said I, "I not a whit mis...o...b.. of its a.s.say."
Next issued from the deep imbosom'd splendour: "Say, whence the costly jewel, on the which Is founded every virtue, came to thee."
"The flood," I answer'd, "from the Spirit of G.o.d Rain'd down upon the ancient bond and new,-- Here is the reas'ning, that convinceth me So feelingly, each argument beside Seems blunt and forceless in comparison."
Then heard I: "Wherefore holdest thou that each, The elder proposition and the new, Which so persuade thee, are the voice of heav'n?"
"The works, that follow'd, evidence their truth;"
I answer'd: "Nature did not make for these The iron hot, or on her anvil mould them."
"Who voucheth to thee of the works themselves,"
Was the reply, "that they in very deed Are that they purport? None hath sworn so to thee."
"That all the world," said I, "should have been turn'd To Christian, and no miracle been wrought, Would in itself be such a miracle, The rest were not an hundredth part so great.
E'en thou wentst forth in poverty and hunger To set the goodly plant, that from the vine, It once was, now is grown unsightly bramble."
That ended, through the high celestial court Resounded all the spheres. "Praise we one G.o.d!"
In song of most unearthly melody.
And when that Worthy thus, from branch to branch, Examining, had led me, that we now Approach'd the topmost bough, he straight resum'd; "The grace, that holds sweet dalliance with thy soul, So far discreetly hath thy lips unclos'd That, whatsoe'er has past them, I commend.
Behooves thee to express, what thou believ'st, The next, and whereon thy belief hath grown."