The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (essential books to read TXT) đ
Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.
I for thy profit pond'ring now devise,
That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide
Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,
Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see
Spirits of old tormented, who invoke
A second death; and those next view, who dwell
Content in fire, for that they hope to come,
Whene'er the time may be, among the blest,
Into whose regions if thou then desire
T' ascend, a spirit worthier then I
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,
Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King,
Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,
Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,
That to his city none through me should come.
He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds
His citadel and throne. O happy those,
Whom there he chooses!" I to him in few:
"Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,
I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse
I may escap
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- Author: Dante Alighieri
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One universal smile it seemâd of all things, Joy past compare, gladness unutterable, Imperishable life of peace and love, Exhaustless riches and unmeasurâd bliss.
Before mine eyes stood the four torches lit; And that, which first had come, began to wax In brightness, and in semblance such became, As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds, And interchangâd their plumes. Silence ensued, Through the blest quire, by Him, who here appoints Vicissitude of ministry, enjoinâd; When thus I heard: âWonder not, if my hue Be changâd; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see All in like manner change with me. My place He who usurps on earth (my place, ay, mine, Which in the presence of the Son of God Is void), the same hath made my cemetery A common sewer of puddle and of blood: The more below his triumph, who from hence Malignant fell.â Such colour, as the sun, At eve or morning, paints and adverse cloud, Then saw I sprinkled over all the sky.
And as thâ unblemishâd dame, who in herself Secure of censure, yet at bare report Of otherâs failing, shrinks with maiden fear; So Beatrice in her semblance changâd: And such eclipse in heavân methinks was seen, When the Most Holy sufferâd. Then the words Proceeded, with voice, alterâd from itself So clean, the semblance did not alter more.
âNot to this end was Christâs spouse with my blood, With that of Linus, and of Cletus fed: That she might serve for purchase of base gold: But for the purchase of this happy life Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed, And Urban, they, whose doom was not without Much weeping sealâd. No purpose was of our 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 vouchsafâd me, should for ensign serve Unto the banners, that do levy war On the baptizâd: nor I, for sigil-mark Set upon sold and lying privileges; Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red.
In shepherdâs clothing greedy wolves below Range wide oâer 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 worldâs 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.â 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 lingerâd late And with glad triumph deck thâ ethereal cope.
Onward my sight their semblances pursued; So far pursued, as till the space between From its reach severâd them: whereat the guide Celestial, marking me no more intent On upward gazing, said, âLook down and see What circuit thou hast compassâd.â From the hour When I before had cast my view beneath, All the first region overpast I saw, Which from the midmost to the boundâry winds; That onward thence from Gades I beheld The unwise passage of Laertesâ son, And hitherward the shore, where thou, Europa!
Madâst thee a joyful burden: and yet more Of this dim spot had seen, but that the sun, A constellation off and more, had taâen His progress in the zodiac underneath.
Then by the spirit, that doth never leave Its amorous dalliance with my ladyâs looks, Back with redoubled ardour were mine eyes Led unto her: and from her radiant smiles, Whenas I turnâd me, pleasure so divine Did lighten on me, that whatever bait Or art or nature in the human flesh, Or in its limnâd 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 heavân.
What place for entrance Beatrice chose, I may not say, so uniform was all, Liveliest and loftiest. She my secret wish Divinâd; and with such gladness, that Godâs love Seemâd from her visage shining, thus began: âHere is the goal, whence motion on his race Starts; motionless the centre, and the rest All movâd around. Except the soul divine, Place in this heavân is none, the soul divine, Wherein the love, which ruleth oâer 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.
Measurâd 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 timeâs roots are plungâd, 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.
âThou, to abate thy wonder, note that none Bears rule in earth, and its frail family Are therefore wandârers. Yet before the date, When through the hundredth in his reckâning drops Pale January must be shorâd aside
From winterâs calendar, these heavânly 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!â
CANTO XXVIII
So she who doth imparadise my soul, Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life, And barâd 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 turnâd; 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 seemâd 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 wheelâd about the point a circle of fire, More rapid than the motion, which first girds The world. Then, circle after circle, round Enringâd each other; till the seventh reachâd Circumference so ample, that its bow, Within the span of Junoâs messenger, lied scarce been held entire. Beyond the sevânth, Followâd yet other two. And every one, As more in number distant from the first, Was tardier in motion; and that glowâd With flame most pure, that to the sparkleâ of truth Was nearest, as partaking most, methinks, Of its reality. The guide belovâd Saw me in anxious thought suspense, and spake: âHeavân, and all nature, hangs upon that point.
The circle thereto most conjoinâd observe; And know, that by intenser love its course Is to this swiftness wingâd. âTo whom I thus: âIt were enough; nor should I further seek, Had I but witnessâd order, in the world Appointed, such as in these wheels is seen.
But in the sensible world such diffârence 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, Wherefore such disagreement is between Thâ exemplar and its copy: for myself, Contemplating, I fail to pierce the cause.â
âIt is no marvel, if thy fingers foilâd Do leave the knot untied: so hard ât is grown For want of tenting.â Thus she said: âBut take,â
She added, âif thou wish thy cure, my words, And entertain them subtly. Every orb Corporeal, doth proportion its extent Unto the virtue through its parts diffusâd.
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 heavâns, Each to theâ intelligence that ruleth it, Greater to more, and smaller unto less, Suited in strict and wondrous harmony.â
As when the sturdy north blows from his cheek A blast, that scours the sky, forthwith our air, Clearâd of the rack, that hung on it before, Glitters; and, With his beauties all unveilâd, 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 chequerâd board.
Then heard I echoing on from choir to choir, âHosanna,â 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: âIn 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 assignâd.
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 rangâd them; and namâd Their orders, marshalâd in his thought. From him Dissentient, one refusâd his sacred read.
But soon as in this heavân his doubting eyes Were openâd, Gregory at his error smilâd 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
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