Canto VIII

by Dante

　　The world used in its peril to believe

　　   That the fair Cypria delirious love

　　   Rayed out, in the third epicycle turning;

　　Wherefore not only unto her paid honour

　　   Of sacrifices and of votive cry

　　   The ancient nations in the ancient error,

　　But both Dione honoured they and Cupid,

　　   That as her mother, this one as her son,

　　   And said that he had sat in Dido's lap;

　　And they from her, whence I beginning take,

　　   Took the denomination of the star

　　   That woos the sun, now following, now in front.

　　I was not ware of our ascending to it;

　　   But of our being in it gave full faith

　　   My Lady whom I saw more beauteous grow.

　　And as within a flame a spark is seen,

　　   And as within a voice a voice discerned,

　　   When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,

　　Within that light beheld I other lamps

　　   Move in a circle, speeding more and less,

　　   Methinks in measure of their inward vision.

　　From a cold cloud descended never winds,

　　   Or visible or not, so rapidly

　　   They would not laggard and impeded seem

　　To any one who had those lights divine

　　   Seen come towards us, leaving the gyration

　　   Begun at first in the high Seraphim.

　　And behind those that most in front appeared

　　   Sounded "Osanna!" so that never since

　　   To hear again was I without desire.

　　Then unto us more nearly one approached,

　　   And it alone began: "We all are ready

　　   Unto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.

　　We turn around with the celestial Princes,

　　   One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,

　　   To whom thou in the world of old didst say,

　　'Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;'

　　   And are so full of love, to pleasure thee

　　   A little quiet will not be less sweet."

　　After these eyes of mine themselves had offered

　　   Unto my Lady reverently, and she

　　   Content and certain of herself had made them,

　　Back to the light they turned, which so great promise

　　   Made of itself, and "Say, who art thou?" was

　　   My voice, imprinted with a great affection.

　　O how and how much I beheld it grow

　　   With the new joy that superadded was

　　   Unto its joys, as soon as I had spoken!

　　Thus changed, it said to me: "The world possessed me

　　   Short time below; and, if it had been more,

　　   Much evil will be which would not have been.

　　My gladness keepeth me concealed from thee,

　　   Which rayeth round about me, and doth hide me

　　   Like as a creature swathed in its own silk.

　　Much didst thou love me, and thou hadst good reason;

　　   For had I been below, I should have shown thee

　　   Somewhat beyond the foliage of my love.

　　That left-hand margin, which doth bathe itself

　　   In Rhone, when it is mingled with the Sorgue,

　　   Me for its lord awaited in due time,

　　And that horn of Ausonia, which is towned

　　   With Bari, with Gaeta and Catona,

　　   Whence Tronto and Verde in the sea disgorge.

　　Already flashed upon my brow the crown

　　   Of that dominion which the Danube waters

　　   After the German borders it abandons;

　　And beautiful Trinacria, that is murky

　　   'Twixt Pachino and Peloro, (on the gulf

　　   Which greatest scath from Eurus doth receive,)

　　Not through Typhoeus, but through nascent sulphur,

　　   Would have awaited her own monarchs still,

　　   Through me from Charles descended and from Rudolph,

　　If evil lordship, that exasperates ever

　　   The subject populations, had not moved

　　   Palermo to the outcry of 'Death! death!'

　　And if my brother could but this foresee,

　　   The greedy poverty of Catalonia

　　   Straight would he flee, that it might not molest him;

　　For verily 'tis needful to provide,

　　   Through him or other, so that on his bark

　　   Already freighted no more freight be placed.

　　His nature, which from liberal covetous

　　   Descended, such a soldiery would need

　　   As should not care for hoarding in a chest."

　　"Because I do believe the lofty joy

　　   Thy speech infuses into me, my Lord,

　　   Where every good thing doth begin and end

　　Thou seest as I see it, the more grateful

　　   Is it to me; and this too hold I dear,

　　   That gazing upon God thou dost discern it.

　　Glad hast thou made me; so make clear to me,

　　   Since speaking thou hast stirred me up to doubt,

　　   How from sweet seed can bitter issue forth."

　　This I to him; and he to me: "If I

　　   Can show to thee a truth, to what thou askest

　　   Thy face thou'lt hold as thou dost hold thy back.

　　The Good which all the realm thou art ascending

　　   Turns and contents, maketh its providence

　　   To be a power within these bodies vast;

　　And not alone the natures are foreseen

　　   Within the mind that in itself is perfect,

　　   But they together with their preservation.

　　For whatsoever thing this bow shoots forth

　　   Falls foreordained unto an end foreseen,

　　   Even as a shaft directed to its mark.

　　If that were not, the heaven which thou dost walk

　　   Would in such manner its effects produce,

　　   That they no longer would be arts, but ruins.

　　This cannot be, if the Intelligences

　　   That keep these stars in motion are not maimed,

　　   And maimed the First that has not made them perfect.

　　Wilt thou this truth have clearer made to thee?"

　　   And I: "Not so; for 'tis impossible

　　   That nature tire, I see, in what is needful."

　　Whence he again: "Now say, would it be worse

　　   For men on earth were they not citizens?"

　　   "Yes," I replied; "and here I ask no reason."

　　"And can they be so, if below they live not

　　   Diversely unto offices diverse?

　　   No, if your master writeth well for you."

　　So came he with deductions to this point;

　　   Then he concluded: "Therefore it behoves

　　   The roots of your effects to be diverse.

　　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."