Hence one is Solon born, another Xerxes,

Another Melchisedec, and another he

Who, flying through the air, his son did lose. Revolving Nature, which a signet is

To mortal wax, doth practise well her art, But not one inn distinguish from another; Thence happens it that Esau differeth

In seed from Jacob; and Quirinus comes
From sire so vile that he is given to Mars.
A generated nature its own way

Would always make like its progenitors,
If Providence divine were not triumphant.
Now that which was behind thee is before thee;

But that thou know that I with thee am pleased,
With a corollary will I mantle thee.

Evermore nature, if it fortune find

Discordant to it, like each other seed Out of its region, maketh evil thrift ; And if the world below would fix its mind

On the foundation which is laid by nature, Pursuing that, 'twould have the people good. But you unto religion wrench aside

Him who was born to gird him with the sword, And make a king of him who is for sermons; Therefore your footsteps wander from the road."

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CANTO IX.

BEAUTIFUL Clemence, after that thy Charles
Had me enlightened, he narrated to me
The treacheries his seed should undergo;

But said: "Be still and let the years roll round;"
So I can only say, that lamentation
Legitimate shall follow on your wrongs.

And of that holy light the life already

Had to the Sun which fills it turned again,
As to that good which for each thing sufficeth.

Ah, souls deceived, and creatures impious,

Who from such good do turn away your hearts,
Directing upon vanity your foreheads!
And now, behold, another of those splendours
Approached me, and its will to pleasure me
It signified by brightening outwardly.

The eyes of Beatrice, that fastened were
Upon me, as before, of dear assent
To my desire assurance gave to me.
Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,

Thou blessed spirit," I said, " and give me proof
That what I think in thee I can reflect !"

Whereat the light, that still was new to me,

Out of its depths, whence it before was singing, As one delighted to do good, continued: 'Within that region of the land depraved

Of Italy, that lies between Rialto

And fountain-heads of Brenta and of Piava, Rises a hill, and mounts not very high,

Wherefrom descended formerly a torch
That made upon that region great assault.
Out of one root were born both I and it;

Cunizza was I called, and here I shine
Because the splendour of this star o'ercame me.

But gladly to myself the cause I pardon

Of my allotment, and it does not grieve me,

Which would perhaps seem strong unto your vulgar.

Of this so luculent and precious jewel,

Which of our heaven is nearest unto me, Great fame remained; and ere it die away This hundredth year shall yet quintupled be. See if man ought to make him excellent, So that another life the first may leave ! And thus thinks not the present multitude

Shut in by Adige and Tagliamento, Nor yet for being scourged is penitent. But soon 'twill be that Padua in the marsh

Will change the water that Vicenza bathes,
Because the folk are stubborn against duty;
And where the Sile and Cagnano join

One lordeth it, and goes with lofty head,
For catching whom e'en now the net is making.
Feltro moreover of her impious pastor

Shall weep the crime, which shall so monstrous be
That for the like none ever entered Malta.

Ample exceedingly would be the vat

That of the Ferrarese could hold the blood,
And weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce,
Of which this courteous priest shall make a gift
To show himself a partisan; and such gifts
Will to the living of the land conform.

Above us there are mirrors, Thrones you call them,
From which shines out on us God Judicant,
So that this utterance seems good to us."
Here it was silent, and it had the semblance
Of being turned elsewhither, by the wheel
On which it entered as it was before.
The other joy, already known to me,

Became a thing transplendent in my sight,
As a fine ruby smitten by the sun.
Through joy effulgence is acquired above,

As here a smile; but down below, the shade
Outwardly darkens, as the mind is sad.
"God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit,
Thy sight is," said I, "so that never will
Of his can possibly from thee be hidden;
Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens
Glad, with the singing of those holy fires
Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl,

Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings?

Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning
If I in thee were as thou art in me."
"The greatest of the valleys where the water

Expands itself," forthwith its words began,
"That sea excepted which the earth engarlands,

Between discordant shores against the sun

Extends so far, that it meridian makes

Where it was wont before to make the horizon.

I was a dweller on that valley's shore

"Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey short Doth from the Tuscan part the Genoese. With the same sunset and same sunrise nearly

Sit Buggia and the city whence I was,

That with its blood once made the harbour hot.

Folco that people called me unto whom

My name was known; and now with me this heaven
Imprints itself, as I did once with it;

For more the daughter of Belus never burned,
Offending both Sichæus and Creusa,
Than I, so long as it became my locks,

Nor yet that Rodophean, who deluded

Was by Demophoön, nor yet Alcides,

When Iole he in his heart had locked.

Yet here is no repenting, but we smile,

Not at the fault, which comes not back to mind,
But at the power which ordered and foresaw.

Here we behold the art that doth adorn

With such affection, and the good discover
Whereby the world above turns that below.
But that thou wholly satisfied mayst bear

Thy wishes hence which in this sphere are born,
Still farther to proceed behoveth nie.
Thou fain wouldst know who is within this light
That here beside me thus is scintillating,
Even as a sunbeam in the limpid water.
Then know thou, that within there is at rest

Rahab, and being to our order joined,
With her in its supremest grade 'tis sealed.
Into this heaven, where ends the shadowy cone
Cast by your world, before all other souls
First of Christ's triumph was she taken up.
Full meet it was to leave her in some heaven,
Even as a palm of the high victory
Which he acquired with one palm and the other,

Because she favoured the first glorious deed
Of Joshua upon the Holy Land,

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That little stirs the memory of the Pope.

Thy city, which an offshoot is of him

Who first upon his Maker turned his back.
And whose ambition is so sorely wept,

Brings forth and scatters the accursed flower

Which both the sheep and lambs hath led astray,
Since it has turned the shepherd to a wolf.

For this the Evangel and the mighty Doctors
Are derelict, and only the Decretals

So studied that it shows upon their margins.

On this are Pope and Cardinals intent ;

Their meditations reach not Nazareth, There where his pinions Gabriel unfolded; But Vatican and the other parts elect

Of Rome, which have a cemetery been Unto the soldiery that followed Peter, Shall soon be free from this adultery."

CANTO X.

LOOKING into his Son with all the Love

Which each of them eternally breathes forth,

The Primal and unutterable Power

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Whate'er before the mind or eye revolves

With so much order made, there can be none
Who this beholds without enjoying Him.
Lift up then, Reader, to the lofty wheels

With me thy vision straight unto that part
Where the one motion on the other strikes,
And there begin to contemplate with joy

That Master's art, who in himself so loves it
That never doth his eye depart therefrom.
Behold how from that point goes branching off
The oblique circle, which conveys the planets,
To satisfy the world that calls upon them;
And if their pathway were not thus inflected,

Much virtue in the heavens would be in vain,
And almost every power below here dead.
If from the straight line distant more or less

Were the departure, much would wanting be
Above and underneath of mundane order.
Remain now, Reader, still upon thy bench,

in thought pursuing that which is foretasted,
If thou wouldst jocund be instead of weary.
I've set before thee; henceforth feed thyself,
For to itself diverteth all my care

That theme whereof I have been made the scribe.
The greatest of the ministers of nature,

Who with the power of heaven the world imprints
And measures with his light the time for us,
With that part which above is called to mind

Conjoined, along the spirals was revolving,
Where each time earlier he presents himself;
And I was with him; but of the ascending

I was not conscious, saving as a man
Of a first thought is conscious ere it come;
And Beatrice, she who is seen to pass

From good to better, and so suddenly
That not by time her action is expressed,
How lucent in herself must she have been !
And what was in the sun, wherein I entered,
Apparent not by colour but by light,

I, though I call on genius, art, and practice,

Cannot so tell that it could be imagined;
Believe one can, and let him long to see it.
And if our fantasies too lowly are

For altitude so great, it is no marvel,
Since o'er the sun was never eye could go.

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