Divine Comedy: Paradise | Page 9

successive hands?To mine he came devolv'd. Caesar I was,?And am Justinian; destin'd by the will?Of that prime love, whose influence I feel,?From vain excess to clear th' encumber'd laws.?Or ere that work engag'd me, I did hold?Christ's nature merely human, with such faith?Contented. But the blessed Agapete,?Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice?To the true faith recall'd me. I believ'd?His words: and what he taught, now plainly see,?As thou in every contradiction seest?The true and false oppos'd. Soon as my feet?Were to the church reclaim'd, to my great task,?By inspiration of God's grace impell'd,?I gave me wholly, and consign'd mine arms?To Belisarius, with whom heaven's right hand?Was link'd in such conjointment, 't was a sign?That I should rest. To thy first question thus?I shape mine answer, which were ended here,?But that its tendency doth prompt perforce?To some addition; that thou well, mayst mark?What reason on each side they have to plead,?By whom that holiest banner is withstood,?Both who pretend its power and who oppose.
"Beginning from that hour, when Pallas died?To give it rule, behold the valorous deeds?Have made it worthy reverence. Not unknown?To thee, how for three hundred years and more?It dwelt in Alba, up to those fell lists?Where for its sake were met the rival three;?Nor aught unknown to thee, which it achiev'd?Down to the Sabines' wrong to Lucrece' woe,?With its sev'n kings conqu'ring the nation round;?Nor all it wrought, by Roman worthies home?'Gainst Brennus and th' Epirot prince, and hosts?Of single chiefs, or states in league combin'd?Of social warfare; hence Torquatus stern,?And Quintius nam'd of his neglected locks,?The Decii, and the Fabii hence acquir'd?Their fame, which I with duteous zeal embalm.?By it the pride of Arab hordes was quell'd,?When they led on by Hannibal o'erpass'd?The Alpine rocks, whence glide thy currents, Po!?Beneath its guidance, in their prime of days?Scipio and Pompey triumph'd; and that hill,?Under whose summit thou didst see the light,?Rued its stern bearing. After, near the hour,?When heav'n was minded that o'er all the world?His own deep calm should brood, to Caesar's hand?Did Rome consign it; and what then it wrought?From Var unto the Rhine, saw Isere's flood,?Saw Loire and Seine, and every vale, that fills?The torrent Rhone. What after that it wrought,?When from Ravenna it came forth, and leap'd?The Rubicon, was of so bold a flight,?That tongue nor pen may follow it. Tow'rds Spain?It wheel'd its bands, then tow'rd Dyrrachium smote,?And on Pharsalia with so fierce a plunge,?E'en the warm Nile was conscious to the pang;?Its native shores Antandros, and the streams?Of Simois revisited, and there?Where Hector lies; then ill for Ptolemy?His pennons shook again; lightning thence fell?On Juba; and the next upon your west,?At sound of the Pompeian trump, return'd.
"What following and in its next bearer's gripe?It wrought, is now by Cassius and Brutus?Bark'd off in hell, and by Perugia's sons?And Modena's was mourn'd. Hence weepeth still?Sad Cleopatra, who, pursued by it,?Took from the adder black and sudden death.?With him it ran e'en to the Red Sea coast;?With him compos'd the world to such a peace,?That of his temple Janus barr'd the door.
"But all the mighty standard yet had wrought,?And was appointed to perform thereafter,?Throughout the mortal kingdom which it sway'd,?Falls in appearance dwindled and obscur'd,?If one with steady eye and perfect thought?On the third Caesar look; for to his hands,?The living Justice, in whose breath I move,?Committed glory, e'en into his hands,?To execute the vengeance of its wrath.
"Hear now and wonder at what next I tell.?After with Titus it was sent to wreak?Vengeance for vengeance of the ancient sin,?And, when the Lombard tooth, with fangs impure,?Did gore the bosom of the holy church,?Under its wings victorious, Charlemagne?Sped to her rescue. Judge then for thyself?Of those, whom I erewhile accus'd to thee,?What they are, and how grievous their offending,?Who are the cause of all your ills. The one?Against the universal ensign rears?The yellow lilies, and with partial aim?That to himself the other arrogates:?So that 't is hard to see which more offends.?Be yours, ye Ghibellines, to veil your arts?Beneath another standard: ill is this?Follow'd of him, who severs it and justice:?And let not with his Guelphs the new-crown'd Charles?Assail it, but those talons hold in dread,?Which from a lion of more lofty port?Have rent the easing. Many a time ere now?The sons have for the sire's transgression wail'd;?Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav'n?Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.
"This little star is furnish'd with good spirits,?Whose mortal lives were busied to that end,?That honour and renown might wait on them:?And, when desires thus err in their intention,?True love must needs ascend with slacker beam.?But it is part of our delight, to measure?Our wages with the merit; and admire?The close proportion. Hence doth heav'nly justice?Temper so evenly affection in us,?It ne'er can warp to any wrongfulness.?Of diverse voices is sweet