The Vision of Dante Alighiere or Hell, Purgatory and Paradise

That on the right hand of our successors

  Part of the Christian people should be set,

  And part upon their left; nor that the keys,

  Which were vouchsaf'd me, should for ensign serve

  Unto the banners, that do levy war

  On the baptiz'd: nor I, for sigil-mark

  Set upon sold and lying privileges;

  Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red.

  In shepherd's clothing greedy wolves below

  Range wide o'er all the pastures. Arm of God!

  Why longer sleepst thou? Caorsines and Gascona

  Prepare to quaff our blood. O good beginning

  To what a vile conclusion must thou stoop!

  But the high providence, which did defend

  Through Scipio the world's glory unto Rome,

  Will not delay its succour: and thou, son,

  Who through thy mortal weight shall yet again

  Return below, open thy lips, nor hide

  What is by me not hidden." As a Hood

  Of frozen vapours streams adown the air,

  What time the she-goat with her skiey horn

  Touches the sun; so saw I there stream wide

  The vapours, who with us had linger'd late

  And with glad triumph deck th' ethereal cope.

  Onward my sight their semblances pursued;

  So far pursued, as till the space between

  From its reach sever'd them: whereat the guide

  Celestial, marking me no more intent

  On upward gazing, said, "Look down and see

  What circuit thou hast compass'd." From the hour

  When I before had cast my view beneath,

  All the first region overpast I saw,

  Which from the midmost to the bound'ry winds;

  That onward thence from Gades I beheld

  The unwise passage of Laertes' son,

  And hitherward the shore, where thou, Europa!

  Mad'st thee a joyful burden: and yet more

  Of this dim spot had seen, but that the sun,

  A constellation off and more, had ta'en

  His progress in the zodiac underneath.

  Then by the spirit, that doth never leave

  Its amorous dalliance with my lady's looks,

  Back with redoubled ardour were mine eyes

  Led unto her: and from her radiant smiles,

  Whenas I turn'd me, pleasure so divine

  Did lighten on me, that whatever bait

  Or art or nature in the human flesh,

  Or in its limn'd resemblance, can combine

  Through greedy eyes to take the soul withal,

  Were to her beauty nothing. Its boon influence

  From the fair nest of Leda rapt me forth,

  And wafted on into the swiftest heav'n.

  What place for entrance Beatrice chose,

  I may not say, so uniform was all,

  Liveliest and loftiest. She my secret wish

  Divin'd; and with such gladness, that God's love

  Seem'd from her visage shining, thus began:

  "Here is the goal, whence motion on his race

  Starts; motionless the centre, and the rest

  All mov'd around. Except the soul divine,

  Place in this heav'n is none, the soul divine,

  Wherein the love, which ruleth o'er its orb,

  Is kindled, and the virtue that it sheds;

  One circle, light and love, enclasping it,

  As this doth clasp the others; and to Him,

  Who draws the bound, its limit only known.

  Measur'd itself by none, it doth divide

  Motion to all, counted unto them forth,

  As by the fifth or half ye count forth ten.

  The vase, wherein time's roots are plung'd, thou seest,

  Look elsewhere for the leaves. O mortal lust!

  That canst not lift thy head above the waves

  Which whelm and sink thee down! The will in man

  Bears goodly blossoms; but its ruddy promise

  Is, by the dripping of perpetual rain,

  Made mere abortion: faith and innocence

  Are met with but in babes, each taking leave

  Ere cheeks with down are sprinkled; he, that fasts,

  While yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose

  Gluts every food alike in every moon.

  One yet a babbler, loves and listens to

  His mother; but no sooner hath free use

  Of speech, than he doth wish her in her grave.

  So suddenly doth the fair child of him,

  Whose welcome is the morn and eve his parting,

  To negro blackness change her virgin white.

  "Thou, to abate thy wonder, note that none

  Bears rule in earth, and its frail family

  Are therefore wand'rers. Yet before the date,

  When through the hundredth in his reck'ning drops

  Pale January must be shor'd aside

  From winter's calendar, these heav'nly spheres

  Shall roar so loud, that fortune shall be fain

  To turn the poop, where she hath now the prow;

  So that the fleet run onward; and true fruit,

  Expected long, shall crown at last the bloom!"

  CANTO XXVIII

  So she who doth imparadise my soul,

  Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life,

  And bar'd the truth of poor mortality;

  When lo! as one who, in a mirror, spies

  The shining of a flambeau at his back,

  Lit sudden ore he deem of its approach,

  And turneth to resolve him, if the glass

  Have told him true, and sees the record faithful

  As note is to its metre; even thus,

  I well remember, did befall to me,

  Looking upon the beauteous eyes, whence love

  Had made the leash to take me. As I turn'd;

  And that, which, in their circles, none who spies,

  Can miss of, in itself apparent, struck

  On mine; a point I saw, that darted light

  So sharp, no lid, unclosing, may bear up

  Against its keenness. The least star we view

  From hence, had seem'd a moon, set by its side,

  As star by side of star. And so far off,

  Perchance, as is the halo from the light

  Which paints it, when most dense the vapour spreads,

  There wheel'd about the point a circle of fire,

  More rapid than the motion, which first girds

  The world. Then, circle after circle, round

  Enring'd each other; till the seventh reach'd

  Circumference so ample, that its bow,

  Within the span of Juno's messenger,

  lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sev'nth,

  Follow'd yet other two. And every one,

  As more in number distant from the first,

  Was tardier in motion; and that glow'd

  With flame most pure, that to the sparkle' of truth

  Was nearest, as partaking most, methinks,

  Of its reality. The guide belov'd

  Saw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake:

  "Heav'n, and all nature, hangs upon that point.

  The circle thereto most conjoin'd observe;

  And know, that by intenser love its course

  Is to this swiftness wing'd. "To whom I thus:

  "It were enough; nor should I further seek,

  Had I but witness'd order, in the world

  Appointed, such as in these wheels is seen.

  But in the sensible world such diff'rence is,

  That is each round shows more divinity,

  As each is wider from the centre. Hence,

  If in this wondrous and angelic temple,

  That hath for confine only light and love,

  My wish may have completion I must know,

  Wherefor
e such disagreement is between

  Th' exemplar and its copy: for myself,

  Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause."

  "It is no marvel, if thy fingers foil'd

  Do leave the knot untied: so hard 't is grown

  For want of tenting." Thus she said: "But take,"

  She added, "if thou wish thy cure, my words,

  And entertain them subtly. Every orb

  Corporeal, doth proportion its extent

  Unto the virtue through its parts diffus'd.

  The greater blessedness preserves the more.

  The greater is the body (if all parts

  Share equally) the more is to preserve.

  Therefore the circle, whose swift course enwheels

  The universal frame answers to that,

  Which is supreme in knowledge and in love

  Thus by the virtue, not the seeming, breadth

  Of substance, measure, thou shalt see the heav'ns,

  Each to the' intelligence that ruleth it,

  Greater to more, and smaller unto less,

  Suited in strict and wondrous harmony."

  As when the sturdy north blows from his cheek

  A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air,

  Clear'd of the rack, that hung on it before,

  Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveil'd,

  The firmament looks forth serene, and smiles;

  Such was my cheer, when Beatrice drove

  With clear reply the shadows back, and truth

  Was manifested, as a star in heaven.

  And when the words were ended, not unlike

  To iron in the furnace, every cirque

  Ebullient shot forth scintillating fires:

  And every sparkle shivering to new blaze,

  In number did outmillion the account

  Reduplicate upon the chequer'd board.

  Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir,

  "Hosanna," to the fixed point, that holds,

  And shall for ever hold them to their place,

  From everlasting, irremovable.

  Musing awhile I stood: and she, who saw

  by inward meditations, thus began:

  "In the first circles, they, whom thou beheldst,

  Are seraphim and cherubim. Thus swift

  Follow their hoops, in likeness to the point,

  Near as they can, approaching; and they can

  The more, the loftier their vision. Those,

  That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next,

  Are thrones; in whom the first trine ends. And all

  Are blessed, even as their sight descends

  Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is

  For every mind. Thus happiness hath root

  In seeing, not in loving, which of sight

  Is aftergrowth. And of the seeing such

  The meed, as unto each in due degree

  Grace and good-will their measure have assign'd.

  The other trine, that with still opening buds

  In this eternal springtide blossom fair,

  Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram,

  Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold

  Hosannas blending ever, from the three

  Transmitted. hierarchy of gods, for aye

  Rejoicing, dominations first, next then

  Virtues, and powers the third. The next to whom

  Are princedoms and archangels, with glad round

  To tread their festal ring; and last the band

  Angelical, disporting in their sphere.

  All, as they circle in their orders, look

  Aloft, and downward with such sway prevail,

  That all with mutual impulse tend to God.

  These once a mortal view beheld. Desire

  In Dionysius so intently wrought,

  That he, as I have done rang'd them; and nam'd

  Their orders, marshal'd in his thought. From him

  Dissentient, one refus'd his sacred read.

  But soon as in this heav'n his doubting eyes

  Were open'd, Gregory at his error smil'd

  Nor marvel, that a denizen of earth

  Should scan such secret truth; for he had learnt

  Both this and much beside of these our orbs,

  From an eye-witness to heav'n's mysteries."

  CANTO XXIX

  No longer than what time Latona's twins

  Cover'd of Libra and the fleecy star,

  Together both, girding the' horizon hang,

  In even balance from the zenith pois'd,

  Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,

  Part the nice level; e'en so brief a space

  Did Beatrice's silence hold. A smile

  Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze

  Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd:

  When thus her words resuming she began:

  "I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;

  For I have mark'd it, where all time and place

  Are present. Not for increase to himself

  Of good, which may not be increas'd, but forth

  To manifest his glory by its beams,

  Inhabiting his own eternity,

  Beyond time's limit or what bound soe'er

  To circumscribe his being, as he will'd,

  Into new natures, like unto himself,

  Eternal Love unfolded. Nor before,

  As if in dull inaction torpid lay.

  For not in process of before or aft

  Upon these waters mov'd the Spirit of God.

  Simple and mix'd, both form and substance, forth

  To perfect being started, like three darts

  Shot from a bow three-corded. And as ray

  In crystal, glass, and amber, shines entire,

  E'en at the moment of its issuing; thus

  Did, from th' eternal Sovran, beam entire

  His threefold operation, at one act

  Produc'd coeval. Yet in order each

  Created his due station knew: those highest,

  Who pure intelligence were made: mere power

  The lowest: in the midst, bound with strict league,

  Intelligence and power, unsever'd bond.

  Long tract of ages by the angels past,

  Ere the creating of another world,

  Describ'd on Jerome's pages thou hast seen.

  But that what I disclose to thee is true,

  Those penmen, whom the Holy Spirit mov'd

  In many a passage of their sacred book

  Attest; as thou by diligent search shalt find

  And reason in some sort discerns the same,

  Who scarce would grant the heav'nly ministers

  Of their perfection void, so long a space.

  Thus when and where these spirits of love were made,

  Thou know'st, and how: and knowing hast allay'd

  Thy thirst, which from the triple question rose.

  Ere one had reckon'd twenty, e'en so soon

  Part of the angels fell: and in their fall

  Confusion to your elements ensued.

  The others kept their station: and this task,

  Whereon thou lookst, began with such delight,

  That they surcease not ever, day nor night,

  Their circling. Of that fatal lapse the cause

  Was the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen

  Pent with the world's incumbrance. Those, whom here

  Thou seest, were lowly to confess themselves

  Of his free bounty, who had made them apt

  For ministries so high: therefore their views

  Were by enlight'ning grace and their own merit

  Exalted; so that in their will confirm'd

  They stand, nor feel to fall. For do not doubt,

  But to receive the grace, which heav'n vouchsafes,

  Is meritorious, even as the soul

  With prompt affecti
on welcometh the guest.

  Now, without further help, if with good heed

  My words thy mind have treasur'd, thou henceforth

  This consistory round about mayst scan,

  And gaze thy fill. But since thou hast on earth

  Heard vain disputers, reasoners in the schools,

  Canvas the' angelic nature, and dispute

  Its powers of apprehension, memory, choice;

  Therefore, 't is well thou take from me the truth,

  Pure and without disguise, which they below,

  Equivocating, darken and perplex.

  "Know thou, that, from the first, these substances,

  Rejoicing in the countenance of God,

  Have held unceasingly their view, intent

  Upon the glorious vision, from the which

  Naught absent is nor hid: where then no change

  Of newness with succession interrupts,

  Remembrance there needs none to gather up

  Divided thought and images remote

  "So that men, thus at variance with the truth

  Dream, though their eyes be open; reckless some

  Of error; others well aware they err,

  To whom more guilt and shame are justly due.

  Each the known track of sage philosophy

  Deserts, and has a byway of his own:

  So much the restless eagerness to shine

  And love of singularity prevail.

  Yet this, offensive as it is, provokes

  Heav'n's anger less, than when the book of God

  Is forc'd to yield to man's authority,

  Or from its straightness warp'd: no reck'ning made

  What blood the sowing of it in the world

  Has cost; what favour for himself he wins,

  Who meekly clings to it. The aim of all

  Is how to shine: e'en they, whose office is

  To preach the Gospel, let the gospel sleep,

  And pass their own inventions off instead.

  One tells, how at Christ's suffering the wan moon

  Bent back her steps, and shadow'd o'er the sun

  With intervenient disk, as she withdrew:

  Another, how the light shrouded itself

  Within its tabernacle, and left dark

  The Spaniard and the Indian, with the Jew.

  Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears,

  Bandied about more frequent, than the names

  Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets.

  The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return

  From pasture, fed with wind: and what avails

  For their excuse, they do not see their harm?

  Christ said not to his first conventicle,

  'Go forth and preach impostures to the world,'

  But gave them truth to build on; and the sound

  Was mighty on their lips; nor needed they,

  Beside the gospel, other spear or shield,

  To aid them in their warfare for the faith.

  The preacher now provides himself with store

  Of jests and gibes; and, so there be no lack

  Of laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl

  Distends, and he has won the meed he sought:

  Could but the vulgar catch a glimpse the while

  Of that dark bird which nestles in his hood,

  They scarce would wait to hear the blessing said.

  Which now the dotards hold in such esteem,

  That every counterfeit, who spreads abroad

  The hands of holy promise, finds a throng

  Of credulous fools beneath. Saint Anthony

  Fattens with this his swine, and others worse

  Than swine, who diet at his lazy board,

  Paying with unstamp'd metal for their fare.

  "But (for we far have wander'd) let us seek

  The forward path again; so as the way

  Be shorten'd with the time. No mortal tongue

  Nor thought of man hath ever reach'd so far,

  That of these natures he might count the tribes.

  What Daniel of their thousands hath reveal'd

  With finite number infinite conceals.

  The fountain at whose source these drink their beams,

  With light supplies them in as many modes,

  As there are splendours, that it shines on: each

  According to the virtue it conceives,

  Differing in love and sweet affection.

  Look then how lofty and how huge in breadth

  The' eternal might, which, broken and dispers'd

  Over such countless mirrors, yet remains

  Whole in itself and one, as at the first."

  CANTO XXX

  Noon's fervid hour perchance six thousand miles

  From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone

  Almost to level on our earth declines;

  When from the midmost of this blue abyss

  By turns some star is to our vision lost.

  And straightway as the handmaid of the sun

  Puts forth her radiant brow, all, light by light,

  Fade, and the spangled firmament shuts in,

  E'en to the loveliest of the glittering throng.

  Thus vanish'd gradually from my sight

  The triumph, which plays ever round the point,

  That overcame me, seeming (for it did)

  Engirt by that it girdeth. Wherefore love,

  With loss of other object, forc'd me bend

  Mine eyes on Beatrice once again.

  If all, that hitherto is told of her,

  Were in one praise concluded, 't were too weak

  To furnish out this turn. Mine eyes did look

  On beauty, such, as I believe in sooth,

  Not merely to exceed our human, but,

  That save its Maker, none can to the full

  Enjoy it. At this point o'erpower'd I fail,