The Divine Comedy - The Original Classic Edition. Dante Dante. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Dante Dante
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witless indolence resign'd;

       What time from all these empty things escap'd, With Beatrice, I thus gloriously

       Was rais'd aloft, and made the guest of heav'n.

       They of the circle to that point, each one.

       Where erst it was, had turn'd; and steady glow'd, As candle in his socket. Then within

       The lustre, that erewhile bespake me, smiling

       With merer gladness, heard I thus begin:

       "E'en as his beam illumes me, so I look

       Into the eternal light, and clearly mark

       Thy thoughts, from whence they rise. Thou art in doubt, And wouldst, that I should bolt my words afresh

       In such plain open phrase, as may be smooth

       To thy perception, where I told thee late

       That 'well they thrive;' and that 'no second such

       Hath risen,' which no small distinction needs.

       "The providence, that governeth the world,

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       In depth of counsel by created ken

       Unfathomable, to the end that she,

       Who with loud cries was 'spous'd in precious blood, Might keep her footing towards her well-belov'd, Safe in herself and constant unto him,

       Hath two ordain'd, who should on either hand

       In chief escort her: one seraphic all In fervency; for wisdom upon earth, The other splendour of cherubic light. I but of one will tell: he tells of both,

       Who one commendeth which of them so'er

       Be taken: for their deeds were to one end.

       "Between Tupino, and the wave, that falls

       From blest Ubaldo's chosen hill, there hangs

       Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold

       Are wafted through Perugia's eastern gate: And Norcera with Gualdo, in its rear

       Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side, Where it doth break its steepness most, arose A sun upon the world, as duly this

       From Ganges doth: therefore let none, who speak

       Of that place, say Ascesi; for its name

       Were lamely so deliver'd; but the East,

       To call things rightly, be it henceforth styl'd. He was not yet much distant from his rising, When his good influence 'gan to bless the earth. A dame to whom none openeth pleasure's gate

       More than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will,

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       His stripling choice: and he did make her his, Before the Spiritual court, by nuptial bonds, And in his father's sight: from day to day, Then lov'd her more devoutly. She, bereav'd Of her first husband, slighted and obscure,

       Thousand and hundred years and more, remain'd

       Without a single suitor, till he came.

       Nor aught avail'd, that, with Amyclas, she

       Was found unmov'd at rumour of his voice,

       Who shook the world: nor aught her constant boldness

       Whereby with Christ she mounted on the cross, When Mary stay'd beneath. But not to deal

       Thus closely with thee longer, take at large

       The rovers' titles--Poverty and Francis.

       Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love, And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts, So much, that venerable Bernard first

       Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace

       So heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow.

       O hidden riches! O prolific good!

       Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester, And follow both the bridegroom; so the bride

       Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way, The father and the master, with his spouse,

       And with that family, whom now the cord Girt humbly: nor did abjectness of heart Weigh down his eyelids, for that he was son

       Of Pietro Bernardone, and by men

       In wond'rous sort despis'd. But royally

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       His hard intention he to Innocent

       Set forth, and from him first receiv'd the seal On his religion. Then, when numerous flock'd The tribe of lowly ones, that trac'd HIS steps, Whose marvellous life deservedly were sung

       In heights empyreal, through Honorius' hand

       A second crown, to deck their Guardian's virtues, Was by the eternal Spirit inwreath'd: and when

       He had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up

       In the proud Soldan's presence, and there preach'd Christ and his followers; but found the race Unripen'd for conversion: back once more

       He hasted (not to intermit his toil),

       And reap'd Ausonian lands. On the hard rock,

       'Twixt Arno and the Tyber, he from Christ Took the last Signet, which his limbs two years Did carry. Then the season come, that he,

       Who to such good had destin'd him, was pleas'd T' advance him to the meed, which he had earn'd By his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,

       As their just heritage, he gave in charge

       His dearest lady, and enjoin'd their love

       And faith to her: and, from her bosom, will'd His goodly spirit should move forth, returning To its appointed kingdom, nor would have

       His body laid upon another bier.

       "Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,

       To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea

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       Helm'd to right point; and such our Patriarch was. Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,

       Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in. But hunger of new viands tempts his flock, So that they needs into strange pastures wide

       Must spread them: and the more remote from him The stragglers wander, so much mole they come Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk.

       There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm, And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,

       A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.

       "Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta'en

       Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall

       To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill'd:

       For thou wilt see the point from whence they split, Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,

       'That well they thrive not sworn with vanity."'

       CANTO XII

       Soon as its final word the blessed flame

       Had rais'd for utterance, straight the holy mill

       Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv'd, Or ere another, circling, compass'd it,

       Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining,

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       Song, that as much our muses doth excel, Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.

       As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth, Two arches parallel, and trick'd alike,

       Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth From that within (in manner of that voice Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist), And they who gaze, presageful call to mind The compact, made with Noah, of the world No more to be o'erflow'd; about us thus

       Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath'd

       Those garlands twain, and to the innermost

       E'en thus th' external answered. When the