Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Paradise — Reading Companion

resent with human countenance Gabriel, and Michael, and him who made Tobias whole. Unlike what here thou seest, The judgment of Timaeus, who affirms Each soul restor’d to its particular star, Believing it to have been taken thence, When nature gave it to inform her mold: Since to appearance his intention is E’en what his words declare: or else to shun Derision, haply thus he hath disguis’d His true opinion. If his meaning be, That to the influencing of these orbs revert The honour and the blame in human acts, Perchance he doth not wholly miss the truth. This principle, not understood aright, Erewhile perverted well nigh all the world; So that it fell to fabled names of Jove, And Mercury, and Mars. That other doubt, Which moves thee, is less harmful; for it brings No peril of removing thee from me.

“That, to the eye of man, our justice seems Unjust, is argument for faith, and not For heretic declension. To the end This truth may stand more clearly in your view, I will content thee even to thy wish

“If violence be, when that which suffers, nought Consents to that which forceth, not for this These spirits stood exculpate. For the will, That will not, still survives unquench’d, and doth As nature doth in fire, tho’ violence Wrest it a thousand times; for, if it yield Or more or less, so far it follows force. And thus did these, whom they had power to seek The hallow’d place again. In them, had will Been perfect, such as once upon the bars Held Laurence firm, or wrought in Scaevola To his own hand remorseless, to the path, Whence they were drawn, their steps had hasten’d back, When liberty return’d: but in too few Resolve so steadfast dwells. And by these words If duly weigh’d, that argument is void, Which oft might have perplex’d thee still. But now Another question thwarts thee, which to solve Might try thy patience without better aid. I have, no doubt, instill’d into thy mind, That blessed spirit may not lie; since near The source of primal truth it dwells for aye: And thou might’st after of Piccarda learn That Constance held affection to the veil; So that she seems to contradict me here. Not seldom, brother, it hath chanc’d for men To do what they had gladly left undone, Yet to shun peril they have done amiss: E’en as Alcmaeon, at his father’s suit Slew his own mother, so made pitiless Not to lose pity. On this point bethink thee, That force and will are blended in such wise As not to make the’ offence excusable. Absolute will agrees not to the wrong, That inasmuch as there is fear of woe From non-compliance, it agrees. Of will Thus absolute Piccarda spake, and I Of th’ other; so that both have truly said.”

Such was the flow of that pure rill, that well’d From forth the fountain of all truth; and such The rest, that to my wond’ring thoughts I found.

“O thou of primal love the prime delight! Goddess!” I straight reply’d, “whose lively words Still shed new heat and vigour through my soul! Affection fails me to requite thy grace With equal sum of gratitude: be his To recompense, who sees and can reward thee. Well I discern, that by that truth alone Enlighten’d, beyond which no truth may roam, Our mind can satisfy her thirst to know: Therein she resteth, e’en as in his lair The wild beast, soon as she hath reach’d that bound, And she hath power to reach it; else desire Were given to no end. And thence doth doubt Spring, like a shoot, around the stock of truth; And it is nature which from height to height On to the summit prompts us. This invites, This doth assure me, lady, rev’rently To ask thee of other truth, that yet Is dark to me. I fain would know, if man By other works well done may so supply The failure of his vows, that in your scale They lack not weight.” I spake; and on me straight Beatrice look’d with eyes that shot forth sparks Of love celestial in such copious stream, That, virtue sinking in me overpower’d, I turn’d, and downward bent confus’d my sight.

“If beyond earthly wont, the flame of love Illume me, so that I o’ercome thy power Of vision, marvel not: but learn the cause In that perfection of the sight, which soon As apprehending, hasteneth on to reach The good it apprehends. I well discern, How in thine intellect already shines The light eternal, which to view alone Ne’er fails to kindle love; and if aught else Your love seduces, ’tis but that it shows Some ill-mark’d vestige of that primal beam.

“This would’st thou know, if failure of the vow By other service may be so supplied, As from self-question to assure the soul.”

Thus she her words, not heedless of my wish, Began; and thus, as one who breaks not off Discourse, continued in her saintly strain. “Supreme of gifts, which God creating gave Of his free bounty, sign most evident Of goodness, and in his account most priz’d, Was liberty of will, the boon wherewith All intellectual creatures, and them sole He hath endow’d. Hence now thou mayst infer Of what high worth the vow, which so is fram’d That when man offers, God well-pleas’d accepts; For in the compact between God and him, This treasure, such as I describe it to thee, He makes the victim, and of his own act. What compensation therefore may he find? If that, whereof thou hast oblation made, By using well thou think’st to consecrate, Thou would’st of theft do charitable deed. Thus I resolve thee of the greater point.

“But forasmuch as holy church, herein Dispensing, seems to contradict the truth I have discover’d to thee, yet behooves Thou rest a little longer at the board, Ere the crude aliment, which thou hast taken, Digested fitly to nutrition turn. Open thy mind to what I now unfold, And give it inward keeping. Knowledge comes Of learning well retain’d, unfruitful else.

“This sacrifice in essence of two things Consisteth; one is that, whereof ’tis made, The covenant the other. For the last, It ne’er is cancell’d if not kept: and hence I spake erewhile so strictly of its force. For this it was enjoin’d the Israelites, Though leave were giv’n them, as thou know’st, to change The offering, still to offer. Th’ other part, The matter and the substance of the vow, May well be such, to that without offence It may for other substance be exchang’d. But at his own discretion none may shift The burden on his shoulders, unreleas’d By either key, the yellow and the white. Nor deem of any change, as less than vain, If the last bond be not within the new Included, as the quatre in the six. No satisfaction therefore can be paid For what so precious in the balance weighs, That all in counterpoise must kick the beam. Take then no vow at random: ta’en, with faith Preserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once, Blindly to execute a rash resolve, Whom better it had suited to exclaim, ‘I have done ill,’ than to redeem his pledge By doing worse or, not unlike to him In folly, that great leader of the Greeks: Whence, on the alter, Iphigenia mourn’d Her virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn Both wise and simple, even all, who hear Of so fell sacrifice. Be ye more staid, O Christians, not, like feather, by each wind Removable: nor think to cleanse ourselves In every water. Either testament, The old and new, is yours: and for your guide The shepherd of the church let this suffice To save you. When by evil lust entic’d, Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts; Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets, Hold you in mock’ry. Be not, as the lamb, That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother’s milk, To dally with itself in idle play.”

Such were the words that Beatrice spake: These ended, to that region, where the world Is liveliest, full of fond desire she turn’d.

Though mainly prompt new question to propose, Her silence and chang’d look did keep me dumb. And as the arrow, ere the cord is still, Leapeth unto its mark; so on we sped Into the second realm. There I beheld The dame, so joyous enter, that the orb Grew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star Were mov’d to gladness, what then was my cheer, Whom nature hath made apt for every change!

As in a quiet and clear lake the fish, If aught approach them from without, do draw Towards it, deeming it their food; so drew Full more than thousand splendours towards us, And in each one was heard: “Lo! one arriv’d To multiply our loves!” and as each came The shadow, streaming forth effulgence new, Witness’d augmented joy. Here, reader! think, If thou didst miss the sequel of my tale, To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave; And thou shalt see what vehement desire Possess’d me, as soon as these had met my view, To know their state. “O born in happy hour! Thou to whom grace vouchsafes, or ere thy close Of fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones Of that eternal triumph, know to us The light communicated, which through heaven Expatiates without bound. Therefore, if aught Thou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid, Spare not; and of our radiance take thy fill.”

Thus of those piteous spirits one bespake me; And Beatrice next: “Say on; and trust As unto gods!”—“How in the light supreme Thou harbour’st, and from thence the virtue bring’st, That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy, I mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek; Or wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot This sphere assign’d, that oft from mortal ken Is veil’d by others’ beams.” I said, and turn’d Toward the lustre, that with greeting, kind Erewhile had hail’d me. Forthwith brighter far Than erst, it wax’d: and, as himself the sun Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey’d; Within its proper ray the saintly shape Was, through increase of gladness, thus conceal’d; And, shrouded so in splendour answer’d me, E’en as the tenour of my song declares.

“After that Constantine the eagle turn’d Against the motions of the heav’n, that roll’d Consenting with its course, when he of yore, Lavinia’s spouse, was leader of the flight, A hundred years twice told and more, his seat At Europe’s extreme point, the bird of Jove Held, near the mountains, whence he issued first. There, under shadow of his sacred plumes Swaying the world, till through successive hands To mine he came devolv’d. Caesar I was, And am Justinian; destin’d by the will Of that prime love, whose influence I feel, From vain excess to clear th’ encumber’d laws. Or ere that work engag’d me, I did hold Christ’s nature merely human, with such faith Contented. But the blessed Agapete, Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice To the true faith recall’d me. I believ’d His words: and what he taught, now plainly see, As thou in every contradiction seest The true and false oppos’d. Soon as my feet Were to the church reclaim’d, to my great task, By inspiration of God’s grace impell’d, I gave me wholly, and consign’d mine arms To Belisarius, with whom heaven’s right hand Was link’d in such conjointment, ’twas a sign That I should rest. To thy first question thus I shape mine answer, which were ended here, But that its tendency doth prompt perforce To some addition; that thou well, mayst mark What reason on each side they have to plead, By whom that holiest banner is withstood, Both who pretend its power and who oppose.

“Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died To give it rule, behold the valorous deeds Have made it worthy reverence. Not unknown To thee, how for three hundred years and more It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists Where for its sake were met the rival three; Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev’d Down to the Sabines’ wrong to Lucrece’ woe, With its sev’n kings conqu’ring the nation round; Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home ’Gainst Brennus and th’ Epirot prince, and hosts Of single chiefs, or states in league combin’d Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern, And Quintius nam’d of his neglected locks, The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir’d Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm. By it the pride of Arab hordes was quell’d, When they led on by Hannibal o’erpass’d The Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po! Beneath its guidance, in their prime of days Scipio and Pompey triumph’d; and that hill, Under whose summit thou didst see the light, Rued its stern bearing. After, near the hour, When heav’n was minded that o’er all the world His own deep calm should brood, to Caesar’s hand Did Rome consign it; and what then it wrought From Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere’s flood, Saw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills The torrent Rhone. What after that it wrought, When from Ravenna it came forth, and leap’d The Rubicon, was of so bold a flight, That tongue nor pen may follow it. Tow’rds Spain It wheel’d its bands, then tow’rd Dyrrachium smote, And on Pharsalia with so fierce a plunge, E’en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang; Its native shores Antandros, and the streams Of Simois revisited, and there Where Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy His pennons shook again; lightning thence fell On Juba; and the next upon your west, At sound of the Pompeian trump, return’d.

“What following and in its next bearer’s gripe It wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus Bark’d off in hell, and by Perugia’s sons And Modena’s was mourn’d. Hence weepeth still Sad Cleopatra, who, pursued by it, Took from the adder black and sudden death. With him it ran e’en to the Red Sea coast; With him compos’d the world to such a peace, That of his temple Janus barr’d the door.

“But all the mighty standard yet had wrought, And was appointed to perform thereafter, Throughout the mortal kingdom which it sway’d, Falls in appearance dwindled and obscur’d, If one with steady eye and perfect thought On the third Caesar look; for to his hands, The living Justice, in whose breath I move, Committed glory, e’en into his hands, To execute the vengeance of its wrath.

“Hear now and wonder at what next I tell. After with Titus it was sent to wreak Vengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin, And, when the Lombard tooth, with fangs impure, Did gore the bosom of the holy church, Under its wings victorious, Charlemagne Sped to her rescue. Judge then for thyself Of those, whom I erewhile accus’d to thee, What they are, and how grievous their offending, Who are the cause of all your ills. The one Against the universal ensign rears The yellow lilies, and with partial aim That to himself the other arrogates: So that ’tis hard to see which more offends. Be yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your arts Beneath another standard: ill is this Follow’d of him, who severs it and justice: And let not with his Guelphs the new-crown’d Charles Assail it, but those talons hold in dread, Which from a lion of more lofty port Have rent the easing. Many a time ere now The sons have for the sire’s transgression wail’d; Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav’n Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.

“This little star is furnish’d with good spirits, Whose mortal lives were busied to that end, That honour and renown might wait on them: And, when desires thus err in their intention, True love must needs ascend with slacker beam. But it is part of our delight, to measure Our wages with the merit; and admire The close proportion. Hence doth heav’nly justice Temper so evenly affection in us, It ne’er can warp to any wrongfulness. Of diverse voices is sweet music made: So in our life the different degrees Render sweet harmony among these wheels.

“Within the pearl, that now encloseth us, Shines Romeo’s light, whose goodly deed and fair Met ill acceptance. But the Provencals, That were his foes, have little cause for mirth. Ill shapes that man his course, who makes his wrong Of other’s worth. Four daughters were there born To Raymond Berenger, and every one Became a queen; and this for him did Romeo, Though of mean state and from a foreign land. Yet envious tongues incited him to ask A reckoning of that just one, who return’d Twelve fold to him for ten. Aged and poor He parted thence: and if the world did know The heart he had, begging his life by morsels, ’Twould deem the praise, it yields him, scantly dealt.”

“Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth Superillustrans claritate tua Felices ignes horum malahoth!” Thus chanting saw I turn that substance bright With fourfold lustre to its orb again, Revolving; and the rest unto their dance With it mov’d also; and like swiftest sparks, In sudden distance from my sight were veil’d.

Me doubt possess’d, and “Speak,” it whisper’d me, “Speak, speak unto thy lady, that she quench Thy thirst with drops of sweetness.” Yet blank awe, Which lords it o’er me, even at the sound Of Beatrice’s name, did bow me down As one in slumber held. Not long that mood Beatrice suffer’d: she, with such a smile, As might have made one blest amid the flames, Beaming upon me, thus her words began: “Thou in thy thought art pond’ring (as I deem), And what I deem is truth how just revenge Could be with justice punish’d: from which doubt I soon will free thee; so thou mark my words; For they of weighty matter shall possess thee.

“That man, who was unborn, himself condemn’d, And, in himself, all, who since him have liv’d, His offspring: whence, below, the human kind Lay sick in grievous error many an age; Until it pleas’d the Word of God to come Amongst them down, to his own person joining The nature, from its Maker far estrang’d, By the mere act of his eternal love. Contemplate here the wonder I unfold. The nature with its Maker thus conjoin’d, Created first was blameless, pure and good; But through itself alone was driven forth From Paradise, because it had eschew’d The way of truth and life, to evil turn’d. Ne’er then was penalty so just as that Inflicted by the cross, if thou regard The nature in assumption doom’d: ne’er wrong So great, in reference to him, who took Such nature on him, and endur’d the doom. God therefore and the Jews one sentence pleased: So different effects flow’d from one act, And heav’n was open’d, though the earth did quake. Count it not hard henceforth, when thou dost hear That a just vengeance was by righteous court Justly reveng’d. But yet I see thy mind By thought on thought arising sore perplex’d, And with how vehement desire it asks Solution of the maze. What I have heard, Is plain, thou sayst: but wherefore God this way For our redemption chose, eludes my search.