The Divine Comedy by Dante Part 19

"Creator, nor created being, ne'er, My son," he thus began, "was without love, Or natural, or the free spirit's growth.

Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still Is without error; but the other swerves, If on ill object bent, or through excess Of vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks The primal blessings, or with measure due Th' inferior, no delight, that flows from it, Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil, Or with more ardour than behooves, or less.

Pursue the good, the thing created then Works 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer That love is germin of each virtue in ye, And of each act no less, that merits pain.

Now since it may not be, but love intend The welfare mainly of the thing it loves, All from self-hatred are secure; and since No being can be thought t' exist apart And independent of the first, a bar Of equal force restrains from hating that.

"Grant the distinction just; and it remains The' evil must be another's, which is lov'd.

Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.

There is who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest,) Preeminence himself, and coverts hence For his own greatness that another fall.

There is who so much fears the loss of power, Fame, favour, glory (should his fellow mount Above him), and so sickens at the thought, He loves their opposite: and there is he, Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame That he doth thirst for vengeance, and such needs Must doat on other's evil. Here beneath This threefold love is mourn'd. Of th' other sort Be now instructed, that which follows good But with disorder'd and irregular course.

"All indistinctly apprehend a bliss On which the soul may rest, the hearts of all Yearn after it, and to that wished bourn All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold Or seek it with a love remiss and lax, This cornice after just repenting lays Its penal torment on ye. Other good There is, where man finds not his happiness: It is not true fruition, not that blest Essence, of every good the branch and root.

The love too lavishly bestow'd on this, Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.

Account of that division tripart.i.te Expect not, fitter for thine own research."

CANTO XVIII

The teacher ended, and his high discourse Concluding, earnest in my looks inquir'd If I appear'd content; and I, whom still Unsated thirst to hear him urg'd, was mute, Mute outwardly, yet inwardly I said: "Perchance my too much questioning offends"

But he, true father, mark'd the secret wish By diffidence restrain'd, and speaking, gave Me boldness thus to speak: 'Master, my Sight Gathers so lively virtue from thy beams, That all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.

Wherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heart Holds dearest! thou wouldst deign by proof t' unfold That love, from which as from their source thou bring'st All good deeds and their opposite.'" He then: "To what I now disclose be thy clear ken Directed, and thou plainly shalt behold How much those blind have err'd, who make themselves The guides of men. The soul, created apt To love, moves versatile which way soe'er Aught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is wak'd By pleasure into act. Of substance true Your apprehension forms its counterfeit, And in you the ideal shape presenting Attracts the soul's regard. If she, thus drawn, incline toward it, love is that inclining, And a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.

Then as the fire points up, and mounting seeks His birth-place and his lasting seat, e'en thus Enters the captive soul into desire, Which is a spiritual motion, that ne'er rests Before enjoyment of the thing it loves.

Enough to show thee, how the truth from those Is hidden, who aver all love a thing Praise-worthy in itself: although perhaps Its substance seem still good. Yet if the wax Be good, it follows not th' impression must."

"What love is," I return'd, "thy words, O guide!

And my own docile mind, reveal. Yet thence New doubts have sprung. For from without if love Be offer'd to us, and the spirit knows No other footing, tend she right or wrong, Is no desert of hers." He answering thus: "What reason here discovers I have power To show thee: that which lies beyond, expect From Beatrice, faith not reason's task.

Spirit, substantial form, with matter join'd Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itself Specific virtue of that union born, Which is not felt except it work, nor prov'd But through effect, as vegetable life By the green leaf. From whence his intellect Deduced its primal notices of things, Man therefore knows not, or his appet.i.tes Their first affections; such in you, as zeal In bees to gather honey; at the first, Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise.

But o'er each lower faculty supreme, That as she list are summon'd to her bar, Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep The threshold of a.s.sent. Here is the source, Whence cause of merit in you is deriv'd, E'en as the affections good or ill she takes, Or severs, winnow'd as the chaff. Those men Who reas'ning went to depth profoundest, mark'd That innate freedom, and were thence induc'd To leave their moral teaching to the world.

Grant then, that from necessity arise All love that glows within you; to dismiss Or harbour it, the pow'r is in yourselves.

Remember, Beatrice, in her style, Denominates free choice by eminence The n.o.ble virtue, if in talk with thee She touch upon that theme." The moon, well nigh To midnight hour belated, made the stars Appear to wink and fade; and her broad disk Seem'd like a crag on fire, as up the vault That course she journey'd, which the sun then warms, When they of Rome behold him at his set.

Betwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.

And now the weight, that hung upon my thought, Was lighten'd by the aid of that clear spirit, Who raiseth Andes above Mantua's name.

I therefore, when my questions had obtain'd Solution plain and ample, stood as one Musing in dreary slumber; but not long Slumber'd; for suddenly a mult.i.tude,

The steep already turning, from behind, Rush'd on. With fury and like random rout, As echoing on their sh.o.r.es at midnight heard Ismenus and Asopus, for his Thebes If Bacchus' help were needed; so came these Tumultuous, curving each his rapid step, By eagerness impell'd of holy love.

Soon they o'ertook us; with such swiftness mov'd The mighty crowd. Two spirits at their head Cried weeping; "Blessed Mary sought with haste The hilly region. Caesar to subdue Ilerda, darted in Ma.r.s.eilles his sting, And flew to Spain."--"Oh tarry not: away;"

The others shouted; "let not time be lost Through slackness of affection. Hearty zeal To serve reanimates celestial grace."

"O ye, in whom intenser fervency Haply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail'd, Slow or neglectful, to absolve your part Of good and virtuous, this man, who yet lives, (Credit my tale, though strange) desires t' ascend, So morning rise to light us. Therefore say Which hand leads nearest to the rifted rock?"

So spake my guide, to whom a shade return'd: "Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.

We may not linger: such resistless will Speeds our unwearied course. Vouchsafe us then Thy pardon, if our duty seem to thee Discourteous rudeness. In Verona I Was abbot of San Zeno, when the hand Of Barbarossa grasp'd Imperial sway, That name, ne'er utter'd without tears in Milan.

And there is he, hath one foot in his grave, Who for that monastery ere long shall weep, Ruing his power misus'd: for that his son, Of body ill compact, and worse in mind, And born in evil, he hath set in place Of its true pastor." Whether more he spake, Or here was mute, I know not: he had sped E'en now so far beyond us. Yet thus much I heard, and in rememb'rance treasur'd it.

He then, who never fail'd me at my need, Cried, "Hither turn. Lo! two with sharp remorse Chiding their sin!" In rear of all the troop These shouted: "First they died, to whom the sea Open'd, or ever Jordan saw his heirs: And they, who with Aeneas to the end Endur'd not suffering, for their portion chose Life without glory." Soon as they had fled Past reach of sight, new thought within me rose By others follow'd fast, and each unlike Its fellow: till led on from thought to thought, And pleasur'd with the fleeting train, mine eye Was clos'd, and meditation chang'd to dream.

CANTO XIX

It was the hour, when of diurnal heat No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon, O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees His Greater Fortune up the east ascend, Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone; When 'fore me in my dream a woman's shape There came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant, Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.

I look'd upon her; and as suns.h.i.+ne cheers Limbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my look Unloos'd her tongue, next in brief s.p.a.ce her form Decrepit rais'd erect, and faded face With love's own hue illum'd. Recov'ring speech She forthwith warbling such a strain began, That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have held Attention from the song. "I," thus she sang, "I am the Siren, she, whom mariners On the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear: Such fulness of delight the list'ner feels.

I from his course Ulysses by my lay Enchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart Contented knows no void." Or ere her mouth Was clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'd A dame of semblance holy. With stern voice She utter'd; "Say, O Virgil, who is this?"

Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bent Toward that goodly presence: th' other seiz'd her, And, her robes tearing, open'd her before, And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell, Exhaling loathsome, wak'd me. Round I turn'd Mine eyes, and thus the teacher: "At the least Three times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone.

Let us the opening find where thou mayst pa.s.s."

I straightway rose. Now day, pour'd down from high, Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount; And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smote The early ray. I follow'd, stooping low My forehead, as a man, o'ercharg'd with thought, Who bends him to the likeness of an arch, That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard, "Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild, As never met the ear on mortal strand.

With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up, Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along, Where each side of the solid masonry The sloping, walls retir'd; then mov'd his plumes, And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn, Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.

"What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"

Began my leader; while th' angelic shape A little over us his station took.

"New vision," I replied, "hath rais'd in me Surmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereon My soul intent allows no other thought Or room or entrance."--"Hast thou seen," said he, "That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone The spirits o'er us weep for? Hast thou seen How man may free him of her bonds? Enough.

Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd ken Fix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal King Whirls in the rolling spheres." As on his feet The falcon first looks down, then to the sky Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food, That woos him thither; so the call I heard, So onward, far as the dividing rock Gave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.

On the fifth circle when I stood at large, A race appear'd before me, on the ground All downward lying p.r.o.ne and weeping sore.

"My soul hath cleaved to the dust," I heard With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak'd the words.

"O ye elect of G.o.d, whose penal woes Both hope and justice mitigate, direct Tow'rds the steep rising our uncertain way."

"If ye approach secure from this our doom, Prostration--and would urge your course with speed, See that ye still to rightward keep the brink."

So them the bard besought; and such the words, Beyond us some short s.p.a.ce, in answer came.

I noted what remain'd yet hidden from them: Thence to my liege's eyes mine eyes I bent, And he, forthwith interpreting their suit, Beckon'd his glad a.s.sent. Free then to act, As pleas'd me, I drew near, and took my stand O`er that shade, whose words I late had mark'd.

And, "Spirit!" I said, "in whom repentant tears Mature that blessed hour, when thou with G.o.d Shalt find acceptance, for a while suspend For me that mightier care. Say who thou wast, Why thus ye grovel on your bellies p.r.o.ne, And if in aught ye wish my service there, Whence living I am come." He answering spake "The cause why Heav'n our back toward his cope Reverses, shalt thou know: but me know first The successor of Peter, and the name And t.i.tle of my lineage from that stream, That' twixt Chiaveri and Siestri draws His limpid waters through the lowly glen.

A month and little more by proof I learnt, With what a weight that robe of sov'reignty Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mire Would guard it: that each other fardel seems But feathers in the balance. Late, alas!

Was my conversion: but when I became Rome's pastor, I discern'd at once the dream And cozenage of life, saw that the heart Rested not there, and yet no prouder height Lur'd on the climber: wherefore, of that life No more enamour'd, in my bosom love Of purer being kindled. For till then I was a soul in misery, alienate From G.o.d, and covetous of all earthly things; Now, as thou seest, here punish'd for my doting.

Such cleansing from the taint of avarice Do spirits converted need. This mount inflicts No direr penalty. E'en as our eyes Fasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier clime Were lifted, thus hath justice level'd us Here on the earth. As avarice quench'd our love Of good, without which is no working, thus Here justice holds us prison'd, hand and foot Chain'd down and bound, while heaven's just Lord shall please.

So long to tarry motionless outstretch'd."

My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke; but he, Ere my beginning, by his ear perceiv'd I did him reverence; and "What cause," said he, "Hath bow'd thee thus!"--"Compunction," I rejoin'd.

"And inward awe of your high dignity."

"Up," he exclaim'd, "brother! upon thy feet Arise: err not: thy fellow servant I, (Thine and all others') of one Sovran Power.

If thou hast ever mark'd those holy sounds Of gospel truth, 'nor shall be given ill marriage,'

Thou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.

Go thy ways now; and linger here no more.

Thy tarrying is a let unto the tears, With which I hasten that whereof thou spak'st.

I have on earth a kinswoman; her name Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill Example of our house corrupt her not: And she is all remaineth of me there."

CANTO XX

Ill strives the will, 'gainst will more wise that strives His pleasure therefore to mine own preferr'd, I drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.