It should be e'er imagin'd: yet believ'd

  It may be, and the sight be justly crav'd.

  And if our fantasy fail of such height,

  What marvel, since no eye above the sun

  Hath ever travel'd? Such are they dwell here,

  Fourth family of the Omnipotent Sire,

  Who of his spirit and of his offspring shows;

  And holds them still enraptur'd with the view.

  And thus to me Beatrice: "Thank, oh thank,

  The Sun of angels, him, who by his grace

  To this perceptible hath lifted thee."

  Never was heart in such devotion bound,

  And with complacency so absolute

  Dispos'd to render up itself to God,

  As mine was at those words: and so entire

  The love for Him, that held me, it eclips'd

  Beatrice in oblivion. Naught displeas'd

  Was she, but smil'd thereat so joyously,

  That of her laughing eyes the radiance brake

  And scatter'd my collected mind abroad.

  Then saw I a bright band, in liveliness

  Surpassing, who themselves did make the crown,

  And us their centre: yet more sweet in voice,

  Than in their visage beaming. Cinctur'd thus,

  Sometime Latona's daughter we behold,

  When the impregnate air retains the thread,

  That weaves her zone. In the celestial court,

  Whence I return, are many jewels found,

  So dear and beautiful, they cannot brook

  Transporting from that realm: and of these lights

  Such was the song. Who doth not prune his wing

  To soar up thither, let him look from thence

  For tidings from the dumb. When, singing thus,

  Those burning suns that circled round us thrice,

  As nearest stars around the fixed pole,

  Then seem'd they like to ladies, from the dance

  Not ceasing, but suspense, in silent pause,

  List'ning, till they have caught the strain anew:

  Suspended so they stood: and, from within,

  Thus heard I one, who spake: "Since with its beam

  The grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame,

  That after doth increase by loving, shines

  So multiplied in thee, it leads thee up

  Along this ladder, down whose hallow'd steps

  None e'er descend, and mount them not again,

  Who from his phial should refuse thee wine

  To slake thy thirst, no less constrained were,

  Than water flowing not unto the sea.

  Thou fain wouldst hear, what plants are these, that bloom

  In the bright garland, which, admiring, girds

  This fair dame round, who strengthens thee for heav'n.

  I then was of the lambs, that Dominic

  Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way,

  Where well they thrive, not sworn with vanity.

  He, nearest on my right hand, brother was,

  And master to me: Albert of Cologne

  Is this: and of Aquinum, Thomas I.

  If thou of all the rest wouldst be assur'd,

  Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak,

  In circuit journey round the blessed wreath.

  That next resplendence issues from the smile

  Of Gratian, who to either forum lent

  Such help, as favour wins in Paradise.

  The other, nearest, who adorns our quire,

  Was Peter, he that with the widow gave

  To holy church his treasure. The fifth light,

  Goodliest of all, is by such love inspired,

  That all your world craves tidings of its doom:

  Within, there is the lofty light, endow'd

  With sapience so profound, if truth be truth,

  That with a ken of such wide amplitude

  No second hath arisen. Next behold

  That taper's radiance, to whose view was shown,

  Clearliest, the nature and the ministry

  Angelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt.

  In the other little light serenely smiles

  That pleader for the Christian temples, he

  Who did provide Augustin of his lore.

  Now, if thy mind's eye pass from light to light,

  Upon my praises following, of the eighth

  Thy thirst is next. The saintly soul, that shows

  The world's deceitfulness, to all who hear him,

  Is, with the sight of all the good, that is,

  Blest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, lie

  Down in Cieldauro, and from martyrdom

  And exile came it here. Lo! further on,

  Where flames the arduous Spirit of Isidore,

  Of Bede, and Richard, more than man, erewhile,

  In deep discernment. Lastly this, from whom

  Thy look on me reverteth, was the beam

  Of one, whose spirit, on high musings bent,

  Rebuk'd the ling'ring tardiness of death.

  It is the eternal light of Sigebert,

  Who 'scap'd not envy, when of truth he argued,

  Reading in the straw-litter'd street." Forthwith,

  As clock, that calleth up the spouse of God

  To win her bridegroom's love at matin's hour,

  Each part of other fitly drawn and urg'd,

  Sends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet,

  Affection springs in well-disposed breast;

  Thus saw I move the glorious wheel, thus heard

  Voice answ'ring voice, so musical and soft,

  It can be known but where day endless shines.

  CANTO XI

  O fond anxiety of mortal men!

  How vain and inconclusive arguments

  Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below

  For statues one, and one for aphorisms

  Was hunting; this the priesthood follow'd, that

  By force or sophistry aspir'd to rule;

  To rob another, and another sought

  By civil business wealth; one moiling lay

  Tangled in net of sensual delight,

  And one to witless indolence resign'd;

  What time from all these empty things escap'd,

  With Beatrice, I thus gloriously

  Was rais'd aloft, and made the guest of heav'n.

  They of the circle to that point, each one.

  Where erst it was, had turn'd; and steady glow'd,

  As candle in his socket. Then within

  The lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smiling

  With merer gladness, heard I thus begin:

  "E'en as his beam illumes me, so I look

  Into the eternal light, and clearly mark

  Thy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt,

  And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afresh

  In such plain open phrase, as may be smooth

  To thy perception, where I told thee late

  That 'well they thrive;' and that 'no second such

  Hath risen,' which no small distinction needs.

  "The providence, that governeth the world,

  In depth of counsel by created ken

  Unfathomable, to the end that she,

  Who with loud cries was 'spous'd in precious blood,

  Might keep her footing towards her well-belov'd,

  Safe in herself and constant unto him,

  Hath two ordain'd, who should on either hand

  In chief escort her: one seraphic all

  In fervency; for wisdom upon earth,

  The other splendour of cherubic light.

  I but of one will tell: he tells of both,

  Who one commendeth. which of them so'er

  Be taken: for their deeds were to one end.

  "Between Tupino, and the wave, that falls

  From blest Ubaldo's chosen hill, ther
e hangs

  Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold

  Are wafted through Perugia's eastern gate:

  And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rear

  Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side,

  Where it doth break its steepness most, arose

  A sun upon the world, as duly this

  From Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speak

  Of that place, say Ascesi; for its name

  Were lamely so deliver'd; but the East,

  To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl'd.

  He was not yet much distant from his rising,

  When his good influence 'gan to bless the earth.

  A dame to whom none openeth pleasure's gate

  More than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will,

  His stripling choice: and he did make her his,

  Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,

  And in his father's sight: from day to day,

  Then lov'd her more devoutly. She, bereav'd

  Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,

  Thousand and hundred years and more, remain'd

  Without a single suitor, till he came.

  Nor aught avail'd, that, with Amyclas, she

  Was found unmov'd at rumour of his voice,

  Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldness

  Whereby with Christ she mounted on the cross,

  When Mary stay'd beneath. But not to deal

  Thus closely with thee longer, take at large

  The rovers' titles--Poverty and Francis.

  Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love,

  And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts,

  So much, that venerable Bernard first

  Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace

  So heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow.

  O hidden riches! O prolific good!

  Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester,

  And follow both the bridegroom; so the bride

  Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way,

  The father and the master, with his spouse,

  And with that family, whom now the cord

  Girt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart

  Weigh down his eyelids, for that he was son

  Of Pietro Bernardone, and by men

  In wond'rous sort despis'd. But royally

  His hard intention he to Innocent

  Set forth, and from him first receiv'd the seal

  On his religion. Then, when numerous flock'd

  The tribe of lowly ones, that trac'd HIS steps,

  Whose marvellous life deservedly were sung

  In heights empyreal, through Honorius' hand

  A second crown, to deck their Guardian's virtues,

  Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath'd: and when

  He had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up

  In the proud Soldan's presence, and there preach'd

  Christ and his followers; but found the race

  Unripen'd for conversion: back once more

  He hasted (not to intermit his toil),

  And reap'd Ausonian lands. On the hard rock,

  'Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from Christ

  Took the last Signet, which his limbs two years

  Did carry. Then the season come, that he,

  Who to such good had destin'd him, was pleas'd

  T' advance him to the meed, which he had earn'd

  By his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,

  As their just heritage, he gave in charge

  His dearest lady, and enjoin'd their love

  And faith to her: and, from her bosom, will'd

  His goodly spirit should move forth, returning

  To its appointed kingdom, nor would have

  His body laid upon another bier.

  "Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,

  To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea

  Helm'd to right point; and such our Patriarch was.

  Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,

  Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in.

  But hunger of new viands tempts his flock,

  So that they needs into strange pastures wide

  Must spread them: and the more remote from him

  The stragglers wander, so much mole they come

  Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk.

  There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,

  And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,

  A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.

  "Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta'en

  Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall

  To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill'd:

  For thou wilt see the point from whence they split,

  Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,

  'That well they thrive not sworn with vanity."'

  CANTO XII

  Soon as its final word the blessed flame

  Had rais'd for utterance, straight the holy mill

  Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv'd,

  Or ere another, circling, compass'd it,

  Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining,

  Song, that as much our muses doth excel,

  Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray

  Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.

  As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth,

  Two arches parallel, and trick'd alike,

  Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth

  From that within (in manner of that voice

  Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist),

  And they who gaze, presageful call to mind

  The compact, made with Noah, of the world

  No more to be o'erflow'd; about us thus

  Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath'd

  Those garlands twain, and to the innermost

  E'en thus th' external answered. When the footing,

  And other great festivity, of song,

  And radiance, light with light accordant, each

  Jocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still'd

  (E'en as the eyes by quick volition mov'd,

  Are shut and rais'd together), from the heart

  Of one amongst the new lights mov'd a voice,

  That made me seem like needle to the star,

  In turning to its whereabout, and thus

  Began: "The love, that makes me beautiful,

  Prompts me to tell of th' other guide, for whom

  Such good of mine is spoken. Where one is,

  The other worthily should also be;

  That as their warfare was alike, alike

  Should be their glory. Slow, and full of doubt,

  And with thin ranks, after its banner mov'd

  The army of Christ (which it so clearly cost

  To reappoint), when its imperial Head,

  Who reigneth ever, for the drooping host

  Did make provision, thorough grace alone,

  And not through its deserving. As thou heard'st,

  Two champions to the succour of his spouse

  He sent, who by their deeds and words might join

  Again his scatter'd people. In that clime,

  Where springs the pleasant west-wind to unfold

  The fresh leaves, with which Europe sees herself

  New-garmented; nor from those billows far,

  Beyond whose chiding, after weary course,

  The sun doth sometimes hide him, safe abides

  The happy Callaroga, under guard

  Of the great shield, wherein the lion lies

  Subjected and supreme. And there was born

  The loving million of the Christian faith,

  The hollow'd wrestler, gentle to his own,

  And to his enemies terrible. So replete

  His soul with lively virtue, that when first

/>   Created, even in the mother's womb,

  It prophesied. When, at the sacred font,

  The spousals were complete 'twixt faith and him,

  Where pledge of mutual safety was exchang'd,

  The dame, who was his surety, in her sleep

  Beheld the wondrous fruit, that was from him

  And from his heirs to issue. And that such

  He might be construed, as indeed he was,

  She was inspir'd to name him of his owner,

  Whose he was wholly, and so call'd him Dominic.

  And I speak of him, as the labourer,

  Whom Christ in his own garden chose to be

  His help-mate. Messenger he seem'd, and friend

  Fast-knit to Christ; and the first love he show'd,

  Was after the first counsel that Christ gave.

  Many a time his nurse, at entering found

  That he had ris'n in silence, and was prostrate,

  As who should say, "My errand was for this."

  O happy father! Felix rightly nam'd!

  O favour'd mother! rightly nam'd Joanna!

  If that do mean, as men interpret it.

  Not for the world's sake, for which now they pore

  Upon Ostiense and Taddeo's page,

  But for the real manna, soon he grew

  Mighty in learning, and did set himself

  To go about the vineyard, that soon turns

  To wan and wither'd, if not tended well:

  And from the see (whose bounty to the just

  And needy is gone by, not through its fault,

  But his who fills it basely), he besought,

  No dispensation for commuted wrong,

  Nor the first vacant fortune, nor the tenth),

  That to God's paupers rightly appertain,

  But, 'gainst an erring and degenerate world,

  Licence to fight, in favour of that seed,

  From which the twice twelve cions gird thee round.

  Then, with sage doctrine and good will to help,

  Forth on his great apostleship he far'd,

  Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein;

  And, dashing 'gainst the stocks of heresy,

  Smote fiercest, where resistance was most stout.

  Thence many rivulets have since been turn'd,

  Over the garden Catholic to lead

  Their living waters, and have fed its plants.

  "If such one wheel of that two-yoked car,

  Wherein the holy church defended her,

  And rode triumphant through the civil broil.

  Thou canst not doubt its fellow's excellence,

  Which Thomas, ere my coming, hath declar'd

  So courteously unto thee. But the track,

  Which its smooth fellies made, is now deserted:

  That mouldy mother is where late were lees.

  His family, that wont to trace his path,

  Turn backward, and invert their steps; erelong

  To rue the gathering in of their ill crop,

  When the rejected tares in vain shall ask

  Admittance to the barn. I question not

  But he, who search'd our volume, leaf by leaf,

  Might still find page with this inscription on't,

  'I am as I was wont.' Yet such were not

  From Acquasparta nor Casale, whence

  Of those, who come to meddle with the text,

  One stretches and another cramps its rule.

  Bonaventura's life in me behold,

  From Bagnororegio, one, who in discharge

  Of my great offices still laid aside

  All sinister aim. Illuminato here,

  And Agostino join me: two they were,

  Among the first of those barefooted meek ones,

  Who sought God's friendship in the cord: with them

  Hugues of Saint Victor, Pietro Mangiadore,

  And he of Spain in his twelve volumes shining,

  Nathan the prophet, Metropolitan

  Chrysostom, and Anselmo, and, who deign'd

  To put his hand to the first art, Donatus.

  Raban is here: and at my side there shines

  Calabria's abbot, Joachim , endow'd

  With soul prophetic. The bright courtesy

  Of friar Thomas, and his goodly lore,

  Have mov'd me to the blazon of a peer

  So worthy, and with me have mov'd this throng."

  CANTO XIII

  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 host

  Selected, that, with lively ray serene,

  O'ercome the massiest air: thereto imagine

  The wain, that, in the bosom of our sky,

  Spins ever on its axle night and day,

  With the bright summit of that horn which swells

  Due from the pole, round which the first wheel rolls,

  T' have rang'd themselves in fashion of two signs

  In heav'n, such as Ariadne made,

  When death's chill seized her; and that one of them

  Did compass in the other's beam; and both

  In such sort whirl around, that each should tend

  With opposite motion and, conceiving thus,

  Of that true constellation, and the dance

  Twofold, that circled me, he shall attain

  As 't were the shadow; for things there as much

  Surpass our usage, as the swiftest heav'n

  Is swifter than the Chiana. There was sung

  No Bacchus, and no Io Paean, but

  Three Persons in the Godhead, and in one

  Substance that nature and the human join'd.

  The song fulfill'd its measure; and to us

  Those saintly lights attended, happier made