| |
| “IF beyond earthly wont, 1 the flame of love | |
| Illume me, so that I o’ercome thy power | |
| Of vision, marvel not: but learn the cause | |
| In that perfection of the sight, which, soon | |
| As apprehending, hasteneth on to reach | 5 |
| The good it apprehends. I well discern, | |
| How in thine intellect already shines | |
| The light eternal, which to view alone | |
| Ne’er fails to kindle love; and if aught else | |
| Your love seduces, ’tis but that it shows | 10 |
| Some ill-mark’d vestige of that primal beam. | |
| “This wouldst thou know: if failure of the vow | |
| By other service may be so supplied, | |
| As from self-question to assure the soul.” | |
| Thus she her words, not heedless of my wish, | 15 |
| Began; and thus, as one who breaks not off | |
| Discourse, continued in her saintly strain. | |
| “Supreme of gifts, 2 which God, creating, gave | |
| Of His free bounty, sign most evident | |
| Of goodness, and in His account most prized | 20 |
| Was liberty of will; the boon, wherewith | |
| All intellectual creatures, and them sole, | |
| He hath endow’d. Hence now thou mayst infer | |
| Of what high worth the vow, which so is framed | |
| That when man offers, God well-pleased accepts: | 25 |
| 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, | 30 |
| By using well thou think’st to consecrate, | |
| Thou wouldst 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 | 35 |
| I have discover’d to thee, yet behoves | |
| Thou rest a little longer at the board, | |
| Ere the crude aliment which thou hast ta’en, | |
| Digested fitly, to nutrition turn. | |
| Open thy mind to what I now unfold; | 40 |
| 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 ’tis made; | |
| The covenant, the other 3. For the last, | 45 |
| It ne’er is cancel’d, if not kept: and hence | |
| I spake, erewhile, so strictly of its force. | |
| For this it was enjoin’d the Israelites 4, [change | |
| Though leave were given them, as thou know’st, to | |
| The offering, still to offer. The other part, | 50 |
| The matter and the substance of the vow, | |
| May well be such, as that, without offence, | |
| It may for other substance be exchanged. | |
| But, at his own discretion, none may shift | |
| The burden on his shoulders; unreleased | 55 |
| By either key, 5 the yellow and the white. | |
| Nor deem of any change, as less than vain, | |
| If the last bond 6 be not within the new | |
| Included, as the quatre in the six. | |
| No satisfaction therefore can be paid | 60 |
| 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, | 65 |
| Whom better it had suited to exclaim, | |
| ‘I 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 altar, Iphigenia mourn’d | 70 |
| 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 yourselves | 75 |
| 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 enticed, | |
| Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts; | 80 |
| Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets, | |
| Hold you in mockery. 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: | 85 |
| 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 changed look did keep me dumb. | |
| And as the arrow, ere the cord is still, | 90 |
| 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 moved to gladness, what then was my cheer, | 95 |
| 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 | |
| Toward it, deeming it their food; so drew | |
| Full more than thousand splendours toward us; | 100 |
| And in each one was heard: “Lo! one arrived | |
| 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, | 105 |
| To know the rest how sorely thou wouldst crave; | |
| And thou shalt see what vehement desire | |
| Possess’d me, soon as these had met my view, | |
| To know their state. “O born in happy hour! | |
| Thou, to whom grace vouchsafes, or e’er thy close | 110 |
| 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, | 115 |
| 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, | 120 |
| That, sparkling in thine eyes, denotes thy joy, | |
| I mark; but, who thou art, am still to seek; | |
| Or wherefore, worthy spirit! for thy lot | |
| This sphere 7 assign’d, that oft from mortal ken | |
| Is veil’d by other’s beams.” I said; and turn’d | 125 |
| 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 8 | |
| Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey’d; | 130 |
| 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. | |
