Canto XIII

by Dante

　　Let him imagine, who would well conceive

　　   What now I saw, and let him while I speak

　　   Retain the image as a steadfast rock,

　　The fifteen stars, that in their divers regions

　　   The sky enliven with a light so great

　　   That it transcends all clusters of the air;

　　Let him the Wain imagine unto which

　　   Our vault of heaven sufficeth night and day,

　　   So that in turning of its pole it fails not;

　　Let him the mouth imagine of the horn

　　   That in the point beginneth of the axis

　　   Round about which the primal wheel revolves,--

　　To have fashioned of themselves two signs in heaven,

　　   Like unto that which Minos' daughter made,

　　   The moment when she felt the frost of death;

　　And one to have its rays within the other,

　　   And both to whirl themselves in such a manner

　　   That one should forward go, the other backward;

　　And he will have some shadowing forth of that

　　   True constellation and the double dance

　　   That circled round the point at which I was;

　　Because it is as much beyond our wont,

　　   As swifter than the motion of the Chiana

　　   Moveth the heaven that all the rest outspeeds.

　　There sang they neither Bacchus, nor Apollo,

　　   But in the divine nature Persons three,

　　   And in one person the divine and human.

　　The singing and the dance fulfilled their measure,

　　   And unto us those holy lights gave need,

　　   Growing in happiness from care to care.

　　Then broke the silence of those saints concordant

　　   The light in which the admirable life

　　   Of God's own mendicant was told to me,

　　And said: "Now that one straw is trodden out

　　   Now that its seed is garnered up already,

　　   Sweet love invites me to thresh out the other.

　　Into that bosom, thou believest, whence

　　   Was drawn the rib to form the beauteous cheek

　　   Whose taste to all the world is costing dear,

　　And into that which, by the lance transfixed,

　　   Before and since, such satisfaction made

　　   That it weighs down the balance of all sin,

　　Whate'er of light it has to human nature

　　   Been lawful to possess was all infused

　　   By the same power that both of them created;

　　And hence at what I said above dost wonder,

　　   When I narrated that no second had

　　   The good which in the fifth light is enclosed.

　　Now ope thine eyes to what I answer thee,

　　   And thou shalt see thy creed and my discourse

　　   Fit in the truth as centre in a circle.

　　That which can die, and that which dieth not,

　　   Are nothing but the splendour of the idea

　　   Which by his love our Lord brings into being;

　　Because that living Light, which from its fount

　　   Effulgent flows, so that it disunites not

　　   From Him nor from the Love in them intrined,

　　Through its own goodness reunites its rays

　　   In nine subsistences, as in a mirror,

　　   Itself eternally remaining One.

　　Thence it descends to the last potencies,

　　   Downward from act to act becoming such

　　   That only brief contingencies it makes;

　　And these contingencies I hold to be

　　   Things generated, which the heaven produces

　　   By its own motion, with seed and without.

　　Neither their wax, nor that which tempers it,

　　   Remains immutable, and hence beneath

　　   The ideal signet more and less shines through;

　　Therefore it happens, that the selfsame tree

　　   After its kind bears worse and better fruit,

　　   And ye are born with characters diverse.

　　If in perfection tempered were the wax,

　　   And were the heaven in its supremest virtue,

　　   The brilliance of the seal would all appear;

　　But nature gives it evermore deficient,

　　   In the like manner working as the artist,

　　   Who has the skill of art and hand that trembles.

　　If then the fervent Love, the Vision clear,

　　   Of primal Virtue do dispose and seal,

　　   Perfection absolute is there acquired.

　　Thus was of old the earth created worthy

　　   Of all and every animal perfection;

　　   And thus the Virgin was impregnate made;

　　So that thine own opinion I commend,

　　   That human nature never yet has been,

　　   Nor will be, what it was in those two persons.

　　Now if no farther forth I should proceed,

　　   'Then in what way was he without a peer?'

　　   Would be the first beginning of thy words.

　　But, that may well appear what now appears not,

　　   Think who he was, and what occasion moved him

　　   To make request, when it was told him, 'Ask.'

　　I've not so spoken that thou canst not see

　　   Clearly he was a king who asked for wisdom,

　　   That he might be sufficiently a king;

　　'Twas not to know the number in which are

　　   The motors here above, or if 'necesse'

　　   With a contingent e'er 'necesse' make,

　　'Non si est dare primum motum esse,'

　　   Or if in semicircle can be made

　　   Triangle so that it have no right angle.

　　Whence, if thou notest this and what I said,

　　   A regal prudence is that peerless seeing

　　   In which the shaft of my intention strikes.

　　And if on 'rose' thou turnest thy clear eyes,

　　   Thou'lt see that it has reference alone

　　   To kings who're many, and the good are rare.

　　With this distinction take thou what I said,

　　   And thus it can consist with thy belief

　　   Of the first father and of our Delight.

　　And lead shall this be always to thy feet,

　　   To make thee, like a weary man, move slowly

　　   Both to the Yes and No thou seest not;

　　For very low among the fools is he

　　   Who affirms without distinction, or denies,

　　   As well in one as in the other case;

　　Because it happens that full often bends

　　   Current opinion in the false direction,

　　   And then the feelings bind the intellect.

　　Far more than uselessly he leaves the shore,

　　   (Since he returneth not the same he went,)

　　   Who fishes for the truth, and has no skill;

　　And in the world proofs manifest thereof

　　   Parmenides, Melissus, Brissus are,

　　   And many who went on and knew not whither;

　　Thus did Sabellius, Arius, and those fools

　　   Who have been even as swords unto the Scriptures

　　   In rendering distorted their straight faces.

　　Nor yet shall people be too confident

　　   In judging, even as he is who doth count

　　   The corn in field or ever it be ripe.

　　For I have seen all winter long the thorn

　　   First show itself intractable and fierce,

　　   And after bear the rose upon its top;

　　And I have seen a ship direct and swift

　　   Run o'er the sea throughout its course entire,

　　   To perish at the harbour's mouth at last.

　　Let not Dame Bertha nor Ser Martin think,

　　   Seeing one steal, another offering make,

　　   To see them in the arbitrament divine;

　　For one may rise, and fall the other may."