The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (10 best books of all time txt) đ
- Author: Dante Alighieri
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Whoso laments, that we must doff this garb Of frail mortality, thenceforth to live Immortally above, he hath not seen The sweet refreshing, of that heavânly shower.
Him, who lives ever, and for ever reigns In mystic union of the Three in One, Unbounded, bounding all, each spirit thrice Sang, with such melody, as but to hear For highest merit were an ample meed.
And from the lesser orb the goodliest light, With gentle voice and mild, such as perhaps The angelâs once to Mary, thus replied: âLong as the joy of Paradise shall last, Our love shall shine around that raiment, bright, As fervent; fervent, as in vision blest; And that as far in blessedness exceeding, As it hath grave beyond its virtue great.
Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire, Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase, Whateâer of light, gratuitous, imparts The Supreme Good; light, ministering aid, The better disclose his glory: whence The vision needs increasing, much increase The fervour, which it kindles; and that too The ray, that comes from it. But as the greed Which gives out flame, yet it its whiteness shines More lively than that, and so preserves Its proper semblance; thus this circling sphere Of splendour, shall to view less radiant seem, Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth Now covers. Nor will such excess of light Oâerpower us, in corporeal organs made Firm, and susceptible of all delight.â
So ready and so cordial an âAmen,â
Followed from either choir, as plainly spoke Desire of their dead bodies; yet perchance Not for themselves, but for their kindred dear, Mothers and sires, and those whom best they lovâd, Ere they were made imperishable flame.
And lo! forthwith there rose up round about A lustre over that already there,
Of equal clearness, like the brightening up Of the horizon. As at an evening hour Of twilight, new appearances through heavân Peer with faint glimmer, doubtfully descried; So there new substances, methought began To rise in view; and round the other twain Enwheeling, sweep their ampler circuit wide.
O gentle glitter of eternal beam!
With what a such whiteness did it flow, Oâerpowering vision in me! But so fair, So passing lovely, Beatrice showâd, Mind cannot follow it, nor words express Her infinite sweetness. Thence mine eyes regainâd Power to look up, and I beheld myself, Sole with my lady, to more lofty bliss Translated: for the star, with warmer smile Impurpled, well denoted our ascent.
With all the heart, and with that tongue which speaks The same in all, an holocaust I made To God, befitting the new grace vouchsafâd.
And from my bosom had not yet upsteamâd The fuming of that incense, when I knew The rite accepted. With such mighty sheen And mantling crimson, in two listed rays The splendours shot before me, that I cried, âGod of Sabaoth! that does prank them thus!â
As leads the galaxy from pole to pole, Distinguishâd into greater lights and less, Its pathway, which the wisest fail to spell; So thickly studded, in the depth of Mars, Those rays describâd the venerable sign, That quadrants in the round conjoining frame.
Here memory mocks the toil of genius. Christ Beamâd on that cross; and pattern fails me now.
But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ Will pardon me for that I leave untold, When in the fleckerâd dawning he shall spy The glitterance of Christ. From horn to horn, And âtween the summit and the base did move Lights, scintillating, as they met and passâd.
Thus oft are seen, with ever-changeful glance, Straight or athwart, now rapid and now slow, The atomies of bodies, long or short, To move along the sunbeam, whose slant line Checkers the shadow, interposâd by art Against the noontide heat. And as the chime Of minstrel music, dulcimer, and help With many strings, a pleasant dining makes To him, who heareth not distinct the note; So from the lights, which there appearâd to me, Gatherâd along the cross a melody, That, indistinctly heard, with ravishment Possessâd me. Yet I markâd it was a hymn Of lofty praises; for there came to me âArise and conquer,â as to one who hears And comprehends not. Me such ecstasy Oâercame, that never till that hour was thing That held me in so sweet imprisonment.
Perhaps my saying over bold appears, Accounting less the pleasure of those eyes, Whereon to look fulfilleth all desire.
But he, who is aware those living seals Of every beauty work with quicker force, The higher they are risân; and that there I had not turnâd me to them; he may well Excuse me that, whereof in my excuse I do accuse me, and may own my truth; That holy pleasure here not yet revealâd, Which grows in transport as we mount aloof.
CANTO XV
True love, that ever shows itself as clear In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and stillâd The sacred chords, that are by heavânâs right hand Unwound and tightenâd, flow to righteous prayers Should they not hearken, who, to give me will For praying, in accordance thus were mute?
He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief, Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, Despoils himself forever of that love.
As oft along the still and pure serene, At nightfall, glides a sudden trail of fire, Attracting with involuntary heed
The eye to follow it, erewhile at rest, And seems some star that shifted place in heavân, Only that, whence it kindles, none is lost, And it is soon extinct; thus from the horn, That on the dexter of the cross extends, Down to its foot, one luminary ran From mid the cluster shone there; yet no gem Droppâd from its foil; and through the beamy list Like flame in alabaster, glowâd its course.
So forward stretchâd him (if of credence aught Our greater muse may claim) the pious ghost Of old Anchises, in theâ Elysian bower, When he perceivâd his son. âO thou, my blood!
O most exceeding grace divine! to whom, As now to thee, hath twice the heavânly gate Been eâer unclosâd?â so spake the light; whence I Turnâd me toward him; then unto my dame My sight directed, and on either side Amazement waited me; for in her eyes Was lighted such a smile, I thought that mine Had divâd unto the bottom of my grace And of my bliss in Paradise. Forthwith To hearing and to sight grateful alike, The spirit to his proem added things I understood not, so profound he spake; Yet not of choice but through necessity Mysterious; for his high conception scarâd Beyond the mark of mortals. When the flight Of holy transport had so spent its rage, That nearer to the level of our thought The speech descended, the first sounds I heard Were, âBest he thou, Triunal Deity!
That hast such favour in my seed vouchsafâd!â
Then followâd: âNo unpleasant thirst, thoâ long, Which took me reading in the sacred book, Whose leaves or white or dusky never change, Thou hast allayâd, my son, within this light, From whence my voice thou hearâst; more thanks to her.
Who for such lofty mounting has with plumes Begirt thee. Thou dost deem thy thoughts to me From him transmitted, who is first of all, Eâen as all numbers ray from unity; And therefore dost not ask me who I am, Or why to thee more joyous I appear, Than any other in this gladsome throng.
The truth is as thou deemâst; for in this hue Both less and greater in that mirror look, In which thy thoughts, or ere thou thinkâst, are shown.
But, that the love, which keeps me wakeful ever, Urging with sacred thirst of sweet desire, May be contended fully, let thy voice, Fearless, and frank and jocund, utter forth Thy will distinctly, utter forth the wish, Whereto my ready answer stands decreed.â
I turnâd me to Beatrice; and she heard Ere I had spoken, smiling, an assent, That to my will gave wings; and I began âTo each among your tribe, what time ye kennâd The nature, in whom naught unequal dwells, Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt; For that they are so equal in the sun, From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat, As makes all likeness scant. But will and means, In mortals, for the cause ye well discern, With unlike wings are fledge. A mortal I Experience inequality like this,
And therefore give no thanks, but in the heart, For thy paternal greeting. This howeâer I pray thee, living topaz! that ingemmâst This precious jewel, let me hear thy name.â
âI am thy root, O leaf! whom to expect Even, hath pleasâd me: âthus the prompt reply Prefacing, next it added; âhe, of whom Thy kindred appellation comes, and who, These hundred years and more, on its first ledge Hath circuited the mountain, was my son And thy great grandsire. Well befits, his long Endurance should he shortenâd by thy deeds.
âFlorence, within her ancient limit-mark, Which calls her still to matin prayers and noon, Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace.
She had no armlets and no head-tires then, No purfled dames, no zone, that caught the eye More than the person did. Time was not yet, When at his daughterâs birth the sire grew pale.
For fear the age and dowry should exceed On each side just proportion. House was none Void of its family; nor yet had come Hardanapalus, to exhibit feats
Of chamber prowess. Montemalo yet Oâer our suburban turret rose; as much To be surpass in fall, as in its rising.
I saw Bellincione Berti walk abroad In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone; And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks, His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw Of Nerli and of Vecchio well content With unrobâd jerkin; and their good dames handling The spindle and the flax; O happy they!
Each sure of burial in her native land, And none left desolate a-bed for France!
One wakâd to tend the cradle, hushing it With sounds that lullâd the parentâs infancy: Another, with her maidens, drawing off The tresses from the distaff, lecturâd them Old tales of Troy and Fesole and Rome.
A Salterello and Cianghella we
Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would A Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.
âIn such composâd and seemly fellowship, Such faithful and such fair equality, In so sweet household, Mary at my birth Bestowâd me, callâd on with loud cries; and there In your old baptistery, I was made Christian at once and Cacciaguida; as were My brethren, Eliseo and Moronto.
âFrom Valdipado came to me my spouse, And hence thy surname grew. I followâd then The Emperor Conrad; and his knighthood he Did gird on me; in such good part he took My valiant service. After him I went To testify against that evil law,
Whose people, by the shepherdâs fault, possess Your right, usurping. There, by that foul crew Was I releasâd from the deceitful world, Whose base affection many a spirit soils, And from the martyrdom came to this peace.â
CANTO XVI
O slight respect of manâs nobility!
I never shall account it marvelous, That our infirm affection here below Thou movâst to boasting, when I could not choose, Eâen in that region of unwarpâd desire, In heavân itself, but
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