The Divine Comedy: Paradise, by Dante Alighieri

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,

I 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 girdle 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.”

http://ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/d/dante/d19pa/canto19.html

Last updated Friday, March 7, 2014 at 15:58