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 for him make shorter with thy works.

Florence, within the ancient boundary     From which she taketh still her tierce and nones,     Abode in quiet, temperate and chaste.

No golden chain she had, nor coronal,     Nor ladies shod with sandal shoon, nor girdle     That caught the eye more than the person did.

Not yet the daughter at her birth struck fear     Into the father, for the time and dower     Did not o’errun this side or that the measure.

No houses had she void of families,     Not yet had thither come Sardanapalus     To show what in a chamber can be done;

Not yet surpassed had Montemalo been     By your Uccellatojo, which surpassed     Shall in its downfall be as in its rise.

Bellincion Berti saw I go begirt     With leather and with bone, and from the mirror     His dame depart without a painted face;

And him of Nerli saw, and him of Vecchio,     Contented with their simple suits of buff     And with the spindle and the flax their dames.

O fortunate women! and each one was certain     Of her own burial-place, and none as yet     For sake of France was in her bed deserted.

One o’er the cradle kept her studious watch,     And in her lullaby the language used     That first delights the fathers and the mothers;

Another, drawing tresses from her distaff,     Told o’er among her family the tales     Of Trojans and of Fesole and Rome.

As great a marvel then would have been held     A Lapo Salterello, a Cianghella,     As Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.

To such a quiet, such a beautiful     Life of the citizen, to such a safe     Community, and to so sweet an inn,

Did Mary give me, with loud cries invoked,     And in your ancient Baptistery at once     Christian and Cacciaguida I became.

Moronto was my brother, and Eliseo;     From Val di Pado came to me my wife,     And from that place thy surname was derived.

I followed afterward the Emperor Conrad,     And he begirt me of his chivalry,     So much I pleased him with my noble deeds.

I followed in his train against that law’s     Iniquity, whose people doth usurp     Your just possession, through your Pastor’s fault.

There by that execrable race was I     Released from bonds of the fallacious world,     The love of which defileth many souls,

And came from martyrdom unto this peace.”