Theirs and not thine shall be the crimson'd brow
Their course shall so evince their brutishness
T' have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee.
"First refuge thou must find, first place of rest, In the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears Upon the ladder perch'd the sacred bird.
He shall behold thee with such kind regard, That 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that
Which falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall Forerun the asking. With him shalt thou see That mortal, who was at his birth impress
So strongly from this star, that of his deeds
The nations shall take note. His unripe age
Yet holds him from observance; for these wheels
Only nine years have compass him about. But, ere the Gascon practice on great Harry, Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him, In equal scorn of labours and of gold.
His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely, As not to let the tongues e'en of his foes
Be idle in its praise. Look thou to him And his beneficence: for he shall cause Reversal of their lot to many people,
Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes. And thou shalt bear this written in thy soul
Of him, but tell it not;" and things he told
Incredible to those who witness them;
Then added: "So interpret thou, my son,
91
What hath been told thee.--Lo! the ambushment
That a few circling seasons hide for thee! Yet envy not thy neighbours: time extends
Thy span beyond their treason's chastisement."
Soon, as the saintly spirit, by his silence,
Had shown the web, which I had streteh'd for him
Upon the warp, was woven, I began, As one, who in perplexity desires
Counsel of other, wise, benign and friendly: "My father! well I mark how time spurs on Toward me, ready to inflict the blow,
Which falls most heavily on him, who most
Abandoned himself. Therefore 't is good
I should forecast, that driven from the place
Most dear to me, I may not lose myself
All others by my song. Down through the world
Of infinite mourning, and along the mount
From whose fair height my lady's eyes did lift me, And after through this heav'n from light to light, Have I learnt that, which if I tell again,
It may with many woefully disrelish; And, if I am a timid friend to truth,
I fear my life may perish among those,
To whom these days shall be of ancient date."
The brightness, where enclos'd the treasure smil'd,
Which I had found there, first shone glisteningly,
Like to a golden mirror in the sun;
92
Next answer'd: "Conscience, dimm'd or by its own
Or other's shame, will feel thy saying sharp. Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit remov'd, See the whole vision be made manifest.
And let them wince who have their withers wrung. What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove Unwelcome, on digestion it will turn
To vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest,
Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits; Which is of honour no light argument,
For this there only have been shown to thee, Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep, Spirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind
Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce
And fix its faith, unless the instance brought
Be palpable, and proof apparent urge."
CANTO XVIII
CANTO XVIII
Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine, Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile, Who led me unto God, admonish'd: "Muse
On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him
93
I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong."
At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn'd; And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,
I leave in silence here: nor through distrust
Of my words only, but that to such bliss
The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much
Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz'd on her, Affection found no room for other wish. While the everlasting pleasure, that did full On Beatrice shine, with second view
From her fair countenance my gladden'd soul
Contented; vanquishing me with a beam
Of her soft smile, she spake: "Turn thee, and list. These eyes are not thy only Paradise."
As here we sometimes in the looks may see
Th' affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en
The spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light,
To whom I turn'd, flashing, bewray'd its will
To talk yet further with me, and began:
"On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life
Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair
And leaf unwith'ring, blessed spirits abide, That were below, ere they arriv'd in heav'n, So mighty in renown, as every muse
Might grace her triumph with them. On the horns
Look therefore of the cross: he, whom I name,
Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloud
94
Its nimble fire." Along the cross I saw,
At the repeated name of Joshua,
A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said, Ere it was done: then, at the naming saw
Of the great Maccabee, another move
With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge
Unto that top. The next for Charlemagne And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues
A falcon flying. Last, along the cross,
William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew My ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul, Who spake with me among the other lights Did move away, and mix; and with the choir Of heav'nly songsters prov'd his tuneful skill.
To Beatrice on my right l bent, Looking for intimation or by word
Or act, what next behoov'd; and did descry Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy, It past all former wont. And, as by sense
Of new delight, the man, who perseveres
In good deeds doth perceive from day to day
His virtue growing; I e'en thus perceiv'd Of my ascent, together with the heav'n The circuit widen'd, noting the increase
Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change
In a brief moment on some maiden's cheek,
Which from its fairness doth discharge the weight
95
Of pudency, that stain'd it; such in her,
And to mine eyes so sudden was the change, Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star, Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,
Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks