Divine Comedy: Paradise | Page 8

fram'd?That when man offers, God well-pleas'd accepts;?For in the compact between God and him,?This treasure, such as I describe it to thee,?He makes the victim, and of his own act.?What compensation therefore may he find??If that, whereof thou hast oblation made,?By using well thou think'st to consecrate,?Thou would'st of theft do charitable deed.?Thus I resolve thee of the greater point.
"But forasmuch as holy church, herein?Dispensing, seems to contradict the truth?I have discover'd to thee, yet behooves?Thou rest a little longer at the board,?Ere the crude aliment, which thou hast taken,?Digested fitly to nutrition turn.?Open thy mind to what I now unfold,?And give it inward keeping. Knowledge comes?Of learning well retain'd, unfruitful else.
"This sacrifice in essence of two things?Consisteth; one is that, whereof 't is made,?The covenant the other. For the last,?It ne'er is cancell'd if not kept: and hence?I spake erewhile so strictly of its force.?For this it was enjoin'd the Israelites,?Though leave were giv'n them, as thou know'st, to change?The offering, still to offer. Th' other part,?The matter and the substance of the vow,?May well be such, to that without offence?It may for other substance be exchang'd.?But at his own discretion none may shift?The burden on his shoulders, unreleas'd?By either key, the yellow and the white.?Nor deem of any change, as less than vain,?If the last bond be not within the new?Included, as the quatre in the six.?No satisfaction therefore can be paid?For what so precious in the balance weighs,?That all in counterpoise must kick the beam.?Take then no vow at random: ta'en, with faith?Preserve it; yet not bent, as Jephthah once,?Blindly to execute a rash resolve,?Whom better it had suited to exclaim,?'1 have done ill,' than to redeem his pledge?By doing worse or, not unlike to him?In folly, that great leader of the Greeks:?Whence, on the alter, Iphigenia mourn'd?Her virgin beauty, and hath since made mourn?Both wise and simple, even all, who hear?Of so fell sacrifice. Be ye more staid,?O Christians, not, like feather, by each wind?Removable: nor think to cleanse ourselves?In every water. Either testament,?The old and new, is yours: and for your guide?The shepherd of the church let this suffice?To save you. When by evil lust entic'd,?Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts;?Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets,?Hold you in mock'ry. Be not, as the lamb,?That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother's milk,?To dally with itself in idle play."
Such were the words that Beatrice spake:?These ended, to that region, where the world?Is liveliest, full of fond desire she turn'd.
Though mainly prompt new question to propose,?Her silence and chang'd look did keep me dumb.?And as the arrow, ere the cord is still,?Leapeth unto its mark; so on we sped?Into the second realm. There I beheld?The dame, so joyous enter, that the orb?Grew brighter at her smiles; and, if the star?Were mov'd to gladness, what then was my cheer,?Whom nature hath made apt for every change!
As in a quiet and clear lake the fish,?If aught approach them from without, do draw?Towards it, deeming it their food; so drew?Full more than thousand splendours towards us,?And in each one was heard: "Lo! one arriv'd?To multiply our loves!" and as each came?The shadow, streaming forth effulgence new,?Witness'd augmented joy. Here, reader! think,?If thou didst miss the sequel of my tale,?To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave;?And thou shalt see what vehement desire?Possess'd me, as soon as these had met my view,?To know their state. "O born in happy hour!?Thou to whom grace vouchsafes, or ere thy close?Of fleshly warfare, to behold the thrones?Of that eternal triumph, know to us?The light communicated, which through heaven?Expatiates without bound. Therefore, if aught?Thou of our beams wouldst borrow for thine aid,?Spare not; and of our radiance take thy fill."
Thus of those piteous spirits one bespake me;?And Beatrice next: "Say on; and trust?As unto gods!" --"How in the light supreme?Thou harbour'st, and from thence the virtue bring'st,?That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy,?l mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek;?Or wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot?This sphere assign'd, that oft from mortal ken?Is veil'd by others' beams." I said, and turn'd?Toward the lustre, that with greeting, kind?Erewhile had hail'd me. Forthwith brighter far?Than erst, it wax'd: and, as himself the sun?Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze?Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey'd;?Within its proper ray the saintly shape?Was, through increase of gladness, thus conceal'd;?And, shrouded so in splendour answer'd me,?E'en as the tenour of my song declares.
CANTO VI
"After that Constantine the eagle turn'd?Against the motions of the heav'n, that roll'd?Consenting with its course, when he of yore,?Lavinia's spouse, was leader of the flight,?A hundred years twice told and more, his seat?At Europe's extreme point, the bird of Jove?Held, near the mountains, whence he issued first.?There, under shadow of his sacred plumes?Swaying the world, till through