The Vision of Dante Alighiere or Hell, Purgatory and Paradise

Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.

  Thou hast good cause to cry, "My heart so cleaves

  To him, that liv'd in solitude remote,

  And from the wilds was dragg'd to martyrdom,

  I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul."

  CANTO XIX

  Before my sight appear'd, with open wings,

  The beauteous image, in fruition sweet

  Gladdening the thronged spirits. Each did seem

  A little ruby, whereon so intense

  The sun-beam glow'd that to mine eyes it came

  In clear refraction. And that, which next

  Befalls me to portray, voice hath not utter'd,

  Nor hath ink written, nor in fantasy

  Was e'er conceiv'd. For I beheld and heard

  The beak discourse; and, what intention form'd

  Of many, singly as of one express,

  Beginning: "For that I was just and piteous,

  l am exalted to this height of glory,

  The which no wish exceeds: and there on earth

  Have I my memory left, e'en by the bad

  Commended, while they leave its course untrod."

  Thus is one heat from many embers felt,

  As in that image many were the loves,

  And one the voice, that issued from them all.

  Whence I address them: "O perennial flowers

  Of gladness everlasting! that exhale

  In single breath your odours manifold!

  Breathe now; and let the hunger be appeas'd,

  That with great craving long hath held my soul,

  Finding no food on earth. This well I know,

  That if there be in heav'n a realm, that shows

  In faithful mirror the celestial Justice,

  Yours without veil reflects it. Ye discern

  The heed, wherewith I do prepare myself

  To hearken; ye the doubt that urges me

  With such inveterate craving." Straight I saw,

  Like to a falcon issuing from the hood,

  That rears his head, and claps him with his wings,

  His beauty and his eagerness bewraying.

  So saw I move that stately sign, with praise

  Of grace divine inwoven and high song

  Of inexpressive joy. "He," it began,

  "Who turn'd his compass on the world's extreme,

  And in that space so variously hath wrought,

  Both openly, and in secret, in such wise

  Could not through all the universe display

  Impression of his glory, that the Word

  Of his omniscience should not still remain

  In infinite excess. In proof whereof,

  He first through pride supplanted, who was sum

  Of each created being, waited not

  For light celestial, and abortive fell.

  Whence needs each lesser nature is but scant

  Receptacle unto that Good, which knows

  No limit, measur'd by itself alone.

  Therefore your sight, of th' omnipresent Mind

  A single beam, its origin must own

  Surpassing far its utmost potency.

  The ken, your world is gifted with, descends

  In th' everlasting Justice as low down,

  As eye doth in the sea; which though it mark

  The bottom from the shore, in the wide main

  Discerns it not; and ne'ertheless it is,

  But hidden through its deepness. Light is none,

  Save that which cometh from the pure serene

  Of ne'er disturbed ether: for the rest,

  'Tis darkness all, or shadow of the flesh,

  Or else its poison. Here confess reveal'd

  That covert, which hath hidden from thy search

  The living justice, of the which thou mad'st

  Such frequent question; for thou saidst--'A man

  Is born on Indus' banks, and none is there

  Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write,

  And all his inclinations and his acts,

  As far as human reason sees, are good,

  And he offendeth not in word or deed.

  But unbaptiz'd he dies, and void of faith.

  Where is the justice that condemns him? where

  His blame, if he believeth not?'--What then,

  And who art thou, that on the stool wouldst sit

  To judge at distance of a thousand miles

  With the short-sighted vision of a span?

  To him, who subtilizes thus with me,

  There would assuredly be room for doubt

  Even to wonder, did not the safe word

  Of scripture hold supreme authority.

  "O animals of clay! O spirits gross I

  The primal will, that in itself is good,

  Hath from itself, the chief Good, ne'er been mov'd.

  Justice consists in consonance with it,

  Derivable by no created good,

  Whose very cause depends upon its beam."

  As on her nest the stork, that turns about

  Unto her young, whom lately she hath fed,

  While they with upward eyes do look on her;

  So lifted I my gaze; and bending so

  The ever-blessed image wav'd its wings,

  Lab'ring with such deep counsel. Wheeling round

  It warbled, and did say: "As are my notes

  To thee, who understand'st them not, such is

  Th' eternal judgment unto mortal ken."

  Then still abiding in that ensign rang'd,

  Wherewith the Romans over-awed the world,

  Those burning splendours of the Holy Spirit

  Took up the strain; and thus it spake again:

  "None ever hath ascended to this realm,

  Who hath not a believer been in Christ,

  Either before or after the blest limbs

  Were nail'd upon the wood. But lo! of those

  Who call 'Christ, Christ,' there shall be many found,

  In judgment, further off from him by far,

  Than such, to whom his name was never known.

  Christians like these the Ethiop shall condemn:

  When that the two assemblages shall part;

  One rich eternally, the other poor.

  "What may the Persians say unto your kings,

  When they shall see that volume, in the which

  All their dispraise is written, spread to view?

  There amidst Albert's works shall that be read,

  Which will give speedy motion to the pen,

  When Prague shall mourn her desolated realm.

  There shall be read the woe, that he doth work

  With his adulterate money on the Seine,

  Who by the tusk will perish: there be read

  The thirsting pride, that maketh fool alike

  The English and Scot, impatient of their bound.

  There shall be seen the Spaniard's luxury,

  The delicate living there of the Bohemian,

  Who still to worth has been a willing stranger.

  The halter of Jerusalem shall see

  A unit for his virtue, for his vices

  No less a mark than million. He, who guards

  The isle of fire by old Anchises honour'd

  Shall find his avarice there and cowardice;

  And better to denote his littleness,

  The writing must be letters maim'd, that speak

  Much in a narrow space. All there shall know

  His uncle and his brother's filthy doings,

  Who so renown'd a nation and two crowns

  Have bastardized. And they, of Portugal

  And Norway, there shall be expos'd with him

  Of Ratza, who hath counterfeited ill

  The coin of Venice. O blest Hungary!

  If thou no longer patiently abid'st

  Thy ill-entreating! and, O blest Navarre!

  If with thy mountainous gir
dle thou wouldst arm thee

  In earnest of that day, e'en now are heard

  Wailings and groans in Famagosta's streets

  And Nicosia's, grudging at their beast,

  Who keepeth even footing with the rest."

  CANTO XX

  When, disappearing, from our hemisphere,

  The world's enlightener vanishes, and day

  On all sides wasteth, suddenly the sky,

  Erewhile irradiate only with his beam,

  Is yet again unfolded, putting forth

  Innumerable lights wherein one shines.

  Of such vicissitude in heaven I thought,

  As the great sign, that marshaleth the world

  And the world's leaders, in the blessed beak

  Was silent; for that all those living lights,

  Waxing in splendour, burst forth into songs,

  Such as from memory glide and fall away.

  Sweet love! that dost apparel thee in smiles,

  How lustrous was thy semblance in those sparkles,

  Which merely are from holy thoughts inspir'd!

  After the precious and bright beaming stones,

  That did ingem the sixth light, ceas'd the chiming

  Of their angelic bells; methought I heard

  The murmuring of a river, that doth fall

  From rock to rock transpicuous, making known

  The richness of his spring-head: and as sound

  Of cistern, at the fret-board, or of pipe,

  Is, at the wind-hole, modulate and tun'd;

  Thus up the neck, as it were hollow, rose

  That murmuring of the eagle, and forthwith

  Voice there assum'd, and thence along the beak

  Issued in form of words, such as my heart

  Did look for, on whose tables I inscrib'd them.

  "The part in me, that sees, and bears the sun,,

  In mortal eagles," it began, "must now

  Be noted steadfastly: for of the fires,

  That figure me, those, glittering in mine eye,

  Are chief of all the greatest. This, that shines

  Midmost for pupil, was the same, who sang

  The Holy Spirit's song, and bare about

  The ark from town to town; now doth he know

  The merit of his soul-impassion'd strains

  By their well-fitted guerdon. Of the five,

  That make the circle of the vision, he

  Who to the beak is nearest, comforted

  The widow for her son: now doth he know

  How dear he costeth not to follow Christ,

  Both from experience of this pleasant life,

  And of its opposite. He next, who follows

  In the circumference, for the over arch,

  By true repenting slack'd the pace of death:

  Now knoweth he, that the degrees of heav'n

  Alter not, when through pious prayer below

  Today's is made tomorrow's destiny.

  The other following, with the laws and me,

  To yield the shepherd room, pass'd o'er to Greece,

  From good intent producing evil fruit:

  Now knoweth he, how all the ill, deriv'd

  From his well doing, doth not helm him aught,

  Though it have brought destruction on the world.

  That, which thou seest in the under bow,

  Was William, whom that land bewails, which weeps

  For Charles and Frederick living: now he knows

  How well is lov'd in heav'n the righteous king,

  Which he betokens by his radiant seeming.

  Who in the erring world beneath would deem,

  That Trojan Ripheus in this round was set

  Fifth of the saintly splendours? now he knows

  Enough of that, which the world cannot see,

  The grace divine, albeit e'en his sight

  Reach not its utmost depth." Like to the lark,

  That warbling in the air expatiates long,

  Then, trilling out his last sweet melody,

  Drops satiate with the sweetness; such appear'd

  That image stampt by the' everlasting pleasure,

  Which fashions like itself all lovely things.

  I, though my doubting were as manifest,

  As is through glass the hue that mantles it,

  In silence waited not: for to my lips

  "What things are these?" involuntary rush'd,

  And forc'd a passage out: whereat I mark'd

  A sudden lightening and new revelry.

  The eye was kindled: and the blessed sign

  No more to keep me wond'ring and suspense,

  Replied: "I see that thou believ'st these things,

  Because I tell them, but discern'st not how;

  So that thy knowledge waits not on thy faith:

  As one who knows the name of thing by rote,

  But is a stranger to its properties,

  Till other's tongue reveal them. Fervent love

  And lively hope with violence assail

  The kingdom of the heavens, and overcome

  The will of the Most high; not in such sort

  As man prevails o'er man; but conquers it,

  Because 't is willing to be conquer'd, still,

  Though conquer'd, by its mercy conquering.

  "Those, in the eye who live the first and fifth,

  Cause thee to marvel, in that thou behold'st

  The region of the angels deck'd with them.

  They quitted not their bodies, as thou deem'st,

  Gentiles but Christians, in firm rooted faith,

  This of the feet in future to be pierc'd,

  That of feet nail'd already to the cross.

  One from the barrier of the dark abyss,

  Where never any with good will returns,

  Came back unto his bones. Of lively hope

  Such was the meed; of lively hope, that wing'd

  The prayers sent up to God for his release,

  And put power into them to bend his will.

  The glorious Spirit, of whom I speak to thee,

  A little while returning to the flesh,

  Believ'd in him, who had the means to help,

  And, in believing, nourish'd such a flame

  Of holy love, that at the second death

  He was made sharer in our gamesome mirth.

  The other, through the riches of that grace,

  Which from so deep a fountain doth distil,

  As never eye created saw its rising,

  Plac'd all his love below on just and right:

  Wherefore of grace God op'd in him the eye

  To the redemption of mankind to come;

  Wherein believing, he endur'd no more

  The filth of paganism, and for their ways

  Rebuk'd the stubborn nations. The three nymphs,

  Whom at the right wheel thou beheldst advancing,

  Were sponsors for him more than thousand years

  Before baptizing. O how far remov'd,

  Predestination! is thy root from such

  As see not the First cause entire: and ye,

  O mortal men! be wary how ye judge:

  For we, who see our Maker, know not yet

  The number of the chosen: and esteem

  Such scantiness of knowledge our delight:

  For all our good is in that primal good

  Concentrate, and God's will and ours are one."

  So, by that form divine, was giv'n to me

  Sweet medicine to clear and strengthen sight,

  And, as one handling skillfully the harp,

  Attendant on some skilful songster's voice

  Bids the chords vibrate, and therein the song

  Acquires more pleasure; so, the whilst it spake,

  It doth remember me, that I beheld

  The pair of blessed luminaries move.

  Like the accordant twinkling of two eyes,

  Their beamy ci
rclets, dancing to the sounds.

  CANTO XXI

  Again mine eyes were fix'd on Beatrice,

  And with mine eyes my soul, that in her looks

  Found all contentment. Yet no smile she wore

  And, "Did I smile," quoth she, "thou wouldst be straight

  Like Semele when into ashes turn'd:

  For, mounting these eternal palace-stairs,

  My beauty, which the loftier it climbs,

  As thou hast noted, still doth kindle more,

  So shines, that, were no temp'ring interpos'd,

  Thy mortal puissance would from its rays

  Shrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt.

  Into the seventh splendour are we wafted,

  That underneath the burning lion's breast

  Beams, in this hour, commingled with his might,

  Thy mind be with thine eyes: and in them mirror'd

  The shape, which in this mirror shall be shown."

  Whoso can deem, how fondly I had fed

  My sight upon her blissful countenance,

  May know, when to new thoughts I chang'd, what joy

  To do the bidding of my heav'nly guide:

  In equal balance poising either weight.

  Within the crystal, which records the name,

  (As its remoter circle girds the world)

  Of that lov'd monarch, in whose happy reign

  No ill had power to harm, I saw rear'd up,

  In colour like to sun-illumin'd gold.

  A ladder, which my ken pursued in vain,

  So lofty was the summit; down whose steps

  I saw the splendours in such multitude

  Descending, ev'ry light in heav'n, methought,

  Was shed thence. As the rooks, at dawn of day

  Bestirring them to dry their feathers chill,

  Some speed their way a-field, and homeward some,

  Returning, cross their flight, while some abide

  And wheel around their airy lodge; so seem'd

  That glitterance, wafted on alternate wing,

  As upon certain stair it met, and clash'd

  Its shining. And one ling'ring near us, wax'd

  So bright, that in my thought: said: "The love,

  Which this betokens me, admits no doubt."

  Unwillingly from question I refrain,

  To her, by whom my silence and my speech

  Are order'd, looking for a sign: whence she,

  Who in the sight of Him, that seeth all,

  Saw wherefore I was silent, prompted me

  T' indulge the fervent wish; and I began:

  "I am not worthy, of my own desert,

  That thou shouldst answer me; but for her sake,

  Who hath vouchsaf'd my asking, spirit blest!

  That in thy joy art shrouded! say the cause,

  Which bringeth thee so near: and wherefore, say,

  Doth the sweet symphony of Paradise

  Keep silence here, pervading with such sounds

  Of rapt devotion ev'ry lower sphere?"

  "Mortal art thou in hearing as in sight;"

  Was the reply: "and what forbade the smile

  Of Beatrice interrupts our song.

  Only to yield thee gladness of my voice,

  And of the light that vests me, I thus far

  Descend these hallow'd steps: not that more love

  Invites me; for lo! there aloft, as much

  Or more of love is witness'd in those flames:

  But such my lot by charity assign'd,

  That makes us ready servants, as thou seest,

  To execute the counsel of the Highest.

  "That in this court," said I, "O sacred lamp!

  Love no compulsion needs, but follows free

  Th' eternal Providence, I well discern:

  This harder find to deem, why of thy peers

  Thou only to this office wert foredoom'd."

  I had not ended, when, like rapid mill,

  Upon its centre whirl'd the light; and then

  The love, that did inhabit there, replied:

  "Splendour eternal, piercing through these folds,

  Its virtue to my vision knits, and thus

  Supported, lifts me so above myself,

  That on the sov'ran essence, which it wells from,

  I have the power to gaze: and hence the joy,

  Wherewith I sparkle, equaling with my blaze

  The keenness of my sight. But not the soul,

  That is in heav'n most lustrous, nor the seraph

  That hath his eyes most fix'd on God, shall solve

  What thou hast ask'd: for in th' abyss it lies

  Of th' everlasting statute sunk so low,

  That no created ken may fathom it.

  And, to the mortal world when thou return'st,

  Be this reported; that none henceforth dare

  Direct his footsteps to so dread a bourn.

  The mind, that here is radiant, on the earth

  Is wrapt in mist. Look then if she may do,

  Below, what passeth her ability,

  When she is ta'en to heav'n." By words like these

  Admonish'd, I the question urg'd no more;

  And of the spirit humbly sued alone

  T' instruct me of its state. "'Twixt either shore

  Of Italy, nor distant from thy land,

  A stony ridge ariseth, in such sort,

  The thunder doth not lift his voice so high,

  They call it Catria: at whose foot a cell

  Is sacred to the lonely Eremite,

  For worship set apart and holy rites."

  A third time thus it spake; then added: "There

  So firmly to God's service I adher'd,

  That with no costlier viands than the juice

  Of olives, easily I pass'd the heats

  Of summer and the winter frosts, content

  In heav'n-ward musings. Rich were the returns