LITMIR.BIZ

      XV. Cacciaguida. Florence in the Olden Time.

       Table of Contents

      A will benign, in which reveals itself

       Ever the love that righteously inspires,

       As in the iniquitous, cupidity,

      Silence imposed upon that dulcet lyre,

       And quieted the consecrated chords,

       That Heaven's right hand doth tighten and relax.

      How unto just entreaties shall be deaf

       Those substances, which, to give me desire

       Of praying them, with one accord grew silent?

      'Tis well that without end he should lament,

       Who for the love of thing that doth not last

       Eternally despoils him of that love!

      As through the pure and tranquil evening air

       There shoots from time to time a sudden fire,

       Moving the eyes that steadfast were before,

      And seems to be a star that changeth place,

       Except that in the part where it is kindled

       Nothing is missed, and this endureth little;

      So from the horn that to the right extends

       Unto that cross's foot there ran a star

       Out of the constellation shining there;

      Nor was the gem dissevered from its ribbon,

       But down the radiant fillet ran along,

       So that fire seemed it behind alabaster.

      Thus piteous did Anchises' shade reach forward,

       If any faith our greatest Muse deserve,

       When in Elysium he his son perceived.

      "O sanguis meus, O superinfusa

       Gratia Dei, sicut tibi, cui

       Bis unquam Coeli janua reclusa?"

      Thus that effulgence; whence I gave it heed;

       Then round unto my Lady turned my sight,

       And on this side and that was stupefied;

      For in her eyes was burning such a smile

       That with mine own methought I touched the bottom

       Both of my grace and of my Paradise!

      Then, pleasant to the hearing and the sight,

       The spirit joined to its beginning things

       I understood not, so profound it spake;

      Nor did it hide itself from me by choice,

       But by necessity; for its conception

       Above the mark of mortals set itself.

      And when the bow of burning sympathy

       Was so far slackened, that its speech descended

       Towards the mark of our intelligence,

      The first thing that was understood by me

       Was "Benedight be Thou, O Trine and One,

       Who hast unto my seed so courteous been!"

      And it continued: "Hunger long and grateful,

       Drawn from the reading of the mighty volume

       Wherein is never changed the white nor dark,

      Thou hast appeased, my son, within this light

       In which I speak to thee, by grace of her

       Who to this lofty flight with plumage clothed thee.

      Thou thinkest that to me thy thought doth pass

       From Him who is the first, as from the unit,

       If that be known, ray out the five and six;

      And therefore who I am thou askest not,

       And why I seem more joyous unto thee

       Than any other of this gladsome crowd.

      Thou think'st the truth; because the small and great

       Of this existence look into the mirror

       Wherein, before thou think'st, thy thought thou showest.

      But that the sacred love, in which I watch

       With sight perpetual, and which makes me thirst

       With sweet desire, may better be fulfilled,

      Now let thy voice secure and frank and glad

       Proclaim the wishes, the desire proclaim,

       To which my answer is decreed already."

      To Beatrice I turned me, and she heard

       Before I spake, and smiled to me a sign,

       That made the wings of my desire increase;

      Then in this wise began I: "Love and knowledge,

       When on you dawned the first Equality,

       Of the same weight for each of you became;

      For in the Sun, which lighted you and burned

       With heat and radiance, they so equal are,

       That all similitudes are insufficient.

      But among mortals will and argument,

       For reason that to you is manifest,

       Diversely feathered in their pinions are.

      Whence I, who mortal am, feel in myself

       This inequality; so give not thanks,

       Save in my heart, for this paternal welcome.

      Truly do I entreat thee, living topaz!

       Set in this precious jewel as a gem,

       That thou wilt satisfy me with thy name."

      "O leaf of mine, in whom I pleasure took

       E'en while awaiting, I was thine own root!"

       Such a beginning he in answer made me.

      Then said to me: "That one from whom is named

       Thy race, and who a hundred years and more

       Has circled round the mount on the first cornice,

      A son of mine and thy great-grandsire was;

       Well it behoves thee that the long fatigue

       Thou shouldst

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