The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (10 best books of all time txt) đ
- Author: Dante Alighieri
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Its goodness multiplied throughout the stars; On its own unity revolving still.
Different virtue compact different Makes with the precious body it enlivens, With which it knits, as life in you is knit.
From its original nature full of joy, The virtue mingled through the body shines, As joy through pupil of the living eye.
From hence proceeds, that which from light to light Seems different, and not from dense or rare.
This is the formal cause, that generates Proportionâd to its power, the dusk or clear.â
CANTO III
That sun, which erst with love my bosom warmâd Had of fair truth unveilâd the sweet aspect, By proof of right, and of the false reproof; And I, to own myself convincâd and free Of doubt, as much as needed, raisâd my head Erect for speech. But soon a sight appearâd, Which, so intent to mark it, held me fixâd, That of confession I no longer thought.
As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave Clear and unmovâd, and flowing not so deep As that its bed is dark, the shape returns So faint of our impicturâd lineaments, That on white forehead set a pearl as strong Comes to the eye: such saw I many a face, All stretchâd to speak, from whence I straight conceivâd Delusion opposite to that, which raisâd Between the man and fountain, amorous flame.
Sudden, as I perceivâd them, deeming these Reflected semblances to see of whom They were, I turnâd mine eyes, and nothing saw; Then turnâd them back, directed on the light Of my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beams From her celestial eyes. âWonder not thou,â
She cryâd, âat this my smiling, when I see Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont, Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy.
True substances are these, which thou beholdâst, Hither through failure of their vow exilâd.
But speak thou with them; listen, and believe, That the true light, which fills them with desire, Permits not from its beams their feet to stray.â
Straight to the shadow which for converse seemâd Most earnest, I addressed me, and began, As one by over-eagerness perplexâd: âO spirit, born for joy! who in the rays Of life eternal, of that sweetness knowâst The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far All apprehension, me it well would please, If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this Your station here.â Whence she, with kindness prompt, And eyes glistâning with smiles: âOur charity, To any wish by justice introducâd, Bars not the door, no more than she above, Who would have all her court be like herself.
I was a virgin sister in the earth; And if thy mind observe me well, this form, With such addition gracâd of loveliness, Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt know Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus placâd, Here âmid these other blessed also blest.
Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone With pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceivâd, Admitted to his order dwell in joy.
And this condition, which appears so low, Is for this cause assignâd us, that our vows Were in some part neglected and made void.â
Whence I to her replied: âSomething divine Beams in your countenance, wondârous fair, From former knowledge quite transmuting you.
Therefore to recollect was I so slow.
But what thou sayst hath to my memory Given now such aid, that to retrace your forms Is easier. Yet inform me, ye, who here Are happy, long ye for a higher place More to behold, and more in love to dwell?â
She with those other spirits gently smilâd, Then answerâd with such gladness, that she seemâd With loveâs first flame to glow: âBrother! our will Is in composure settled by the power Of charity, who makes us will alone What we possess, and nought beyond desire; If we should wish to be exalted more, Then must our wishes jar with the high will Of him, who sets us here, which in these orbs Thou wilt confess not possible, if here To be in charity must needs befall, And if her nature well thou contemplate.
Rather it is inherent in this state Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within The divine will, by which our wills with his Are one. So that as we from step to step Are placâd throughout this kingdom, pleases all, Eâen as our King, who in us plants his will; And in his will is our tranquillity; It is the mighty ocean, whither tends Whatever it creates and nature makes.â
Then saw I clearly how each spot in heavân Is Paradise, though with like gracious dew The supreme virtue showâr not over all.
But as it chances, if one sort of food Hath satiated, and of another still The appetite remains, that this is askâd, And thanks for that returnâd; eâen so did I In word and motion, bent from her to learn What web it was, through which she had not drawn The shuttle to its point. She thus began: âExalted worth and perfectness of life The Lady higher up enshrine in heaven, By whose pure laws upon your nether earth The robe and veil they wear, to that intent, That eâen till death they may keep watch or sleep With their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow, Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms.
from the world, to follow her, when young Escapâd; and, in her vesture mantling me, Made promise of the way her sect enjoins.
Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt, Forth snatchâd me from the pleasant cloisterâs pale.
God knows how after that my life was framâd.
This other splendid shape, which thou beholdst At my right side, burning with all the light Of this our orb, what of myself I tell May to herself apply. From her, like me A sister, with like violence were torn The saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows.
Eâen when she to the world again was brought In spite of her own will and better wont, Yet not for that the bosomâs inward veil Did she renounce. This is the luminary Of mighty Constance, who from that loud blast, Which blew the second over Suabiaâs realm, That power producâd, which was the third and last.â
She ceasâd from further talk, and then began âAve Mariaâ singing, and with that song Vanishâd, as heavy substance through deep wave.
Mine eye, that far as it was capable, Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost, Turnâd to the mark where greater want impellâd, And bent on Beatrice all its gaze.
But she as lightâning beamâd upon my looks: So that the sight sustainâd it not at first.
Whence I to question her became less prompt.
CANTO IV
Between two kinds of food, both equally Remote and tempting, first a man might die Of hunger, ere he one could freely choose.
Eâen so would stand a lamb between the maw Of two fierce wolves, in dread of both alike: Eâen so between two deer a dog would stand, Wherefore, if I was silent, fault nor praise I to myself impute, by equal doubts Held in suspense, since of necessity It happenâd. Silent was I, yet desire Was painted in my looks; and thus I spake My wish more earnestly than language could.
As Daniel, when the haughty king he freed From ire, that spurrâd him on to deeds unjust And violent; so lookâd Beatrice then.
âWell I discern,â she thus her words addressâd, âHow contrary desires each way constrain thee, So that thy anxious thought is in itself Bound up and stifled, nor breathes freely forth.
Thou arguest; if the good intent remain; What reason that anotherâs violence Should stint the measure of my fair desert?
âCause too thou findst for doubt, in that it seems, That spirits to the stars, as Plato deemâd, Return. These are the questions which thy will Urge equally; and therefore I the first Of that will treat which hath the more of gall.
Of seraphim he who is most enskyâd, Moses and Samuel, and either John, Choose which thou wilt, nor even Maryâs self, Have not in any other heavân their seats, Than have those spirits which so late thou sawâst; Nor more or fewer years exist; but all Make the first circle beauteous, diversely Partaking of sweet life, as more or less Afflation of eternal bliss pervades them.
Here were they shown thee, not that fate assigns This for their sphere, but for a sign to thee Of that celestial furthest from the height.
Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak: Since from things sensible alone ye learn That, which digested rightly after turns To intellectual. For no other cause The scripture, condescending graciously To your perception, hands and feet to God Attributes, nor so means: and holy church Doth represent with human countenance Gabriel, and Michael, and him who made Tobias whole. Unlike what here thou seest, The judgment of Timaeus, who affirms Each soul restorâd to its particular star, Believing it to have been taken thence, When nature gave it to inform her mold: Since to appearance his intention is Eâen what his words declare: or else to shun Derision, haply thus he hath disguisâd His true opinion. If his meaning be, That to the influencing of these orbs revert The honour and the blame in human acts, Perchance he doth not wholly miss the truth.
This principle, not understood aright, Erewhile perverted well nigh all the world; So that it fell to fabled names of Jove, And Mercury, and Mars. That other doubt, Which moves thee, is less harmful; for it brings No peril of removing thee from me.
âThat, to the eye of man, our justice seems Unjust, is argument for faith, and not For heretic declension. To the end This truth may stand more clearly in your view, I will content thee even to thy wish âIf violence be, when that which suffers, nought Consents to that which forceth, not for this These spirits stood exculpate. For the will, That will not, still survives unquenchâd, and doth As nature doth in fire, thoâ violence Wrest it a thousand times; for, if it yield Or more or less, so far it follows force.
And thus did these, whom they had power to seek The hallowâd place again. In them, had will Been perfect, such as once upon the bars Held Laurence firm, or wrought in Scaevola To his own hand remorseless, to the path, Whence they were drawn, their steps had hastenâd back, When liberty returnâd: but in too few Resolve so steadfast dwells. And by these words If duly weighâd, that argument is void, Which oft might have perplexâd thee still. But now Another question thwarts thee, which to solve Might try thy patience without better aid.
I have, no doubt, instillâd into thy mind, That blessed spirit may not lie; since near The source of primal truth it dwells for aye: And thou mightâst after of Piccarda learn That Constance held affection to the veil; So that she seems to contradict me here.
Not seldom, brother, it hath chancâd for men To do what they had gladly left undone, Yet to shun peril they have done amiss: Eâen as Alcmaeon, at his fatherâs suit Slew his own mother, so made pitiless Not to lose pity. On this point bethink thee, That force and will are blended in such wise As not to make theâ offence excusable.
Absolute will agrees not to the wrong, That inasmuch as there is fear of woe From non-compliance, it agrees. Of will Thus absolute Piccarda spake, and I Of thâ other; so that both have truly said.â
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