The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Paradise: Canto XVIII

Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd     That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,     Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile,     Who led me unto God, admonish'd: "Muse     On other thoughts: bethink thee, that near Him     I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong."     At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn'd;     And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,     I leave in silence here: nor through distrust     Of my words only, but that to such bliss     The mind remounts not without aid. Thus much     Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz'd on her,     Affection found no room for other wish.     While the everlasting pleasure, that did full     On Beatrice shine, with second view     From her fair countenance my gladden'd soul     Contented; vanquishing me with a beam     Of her soft smile, she spake: "Turn thee, and list.     These eyes are not thy only Paradise."     As here we sometimes in the looks may see     Th' affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en     The spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light,     To whom I turn'd, flashing, bewray'd its will     To talk yet further with me, and began:     "On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life     Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair     And leaf unwith'ring, blessed spirits abide,     That were below, ere they arriv'd in heav'n,     So mighty in renown, as every muse     Might grace her triumph with them. On the horns     Look therefore of the cross: he, whom I name,     Shall there enact, as doth in summer cloud     Its nimble fire." Along the cross I saw,     At the repeated name of Joshua,     A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,     Ere it was done: then, at the naming saw     Of the great Maccabee, another move     With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge     Unto that top. The next for Charlemagne     And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze     Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues     A falcon flying. Last, along the cross,     William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew     My ken, and Robert Guiscard. And the soul,     Who spake with me among the other lights     Did move away, and mix; and with the choir     Of heav'nly songsters prov'd his tuneful skill.     To Beatrice on my right l bent,     Looking for intimation or by word     Or act, what next behoov'd; and did descry     Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,     It past all former wont. And, as by sense     Of new delight, the man, who perseveres     In good deeds doth perceive from day to day     His virtue growing; I e'en thus perceiv'd     Of my ascent, together with the heav'n     The circuit widen'd, noting the increase     Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change     In a brief moment on some maiden's cheek,     Which from its fairness doth discharge the weight     Of pudency, that stain'd it; such in her,     And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,     Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,     Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,     Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks     Of love, that reign'd there, fashion to my view     Our language. And as birds, from river banks     Arisen, now in round, now lengthen'd troop,     Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems,     Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,     The saintly creatures flying, sang, and made     Now D. now I. now L. figur'd I' th' air.     First, singing, to their notes they mov'd, then one     Becoming of these signs, a little while     Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine     Of Pegasean race! whose souls, which thou     Inspir'st, mak'st glorious and long-liv'd, as they     Cities and realms by thee! thou with thyself     Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes,     As fancy doth present them. Be thy power     Display'd in this brief song. The characters,     Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.     In order each, as they appear'd, I mark'd.     Diligite Justitiam, the first,     Both verb and noun all blazon'd; and the extreme     Qui judicatis terram. In the M.     Of the fifth word they held their station,     Making the star seem silver streak'd with gold.     And on the summit of the M. I saw     Descending other lights, that rested there,     Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.     Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,     Sparkles innumerable on all sides     Rise scatter'd, source of augury to th' unwise;     Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence     Seem'd reascending, and a higher pitch     Some mounting, and some less; e'en as the sun,     Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one     Had settled in his place, the head and neck     Then saw I of an eagle, lively     Grav'd in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,     Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides;     And every line and texture of the nest     Doth own from him the virtue, fashions it.     The other bright beatitude, that seem'd     Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content     To over-canopy the M. mov'd forth,     Following gently the impress of the bird.      Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gems     Declar'd to me our justice on the earth     To be the effluence of that heav'n, which thou,     Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay!     Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom     Thy motion and thy virtue are begun,     That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,     To vitiate thy beam: so that once more     He may put forth his hand 'gainst such, as drive     Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls     With miracles and martyrdoms were built.     Ye host of heaven! whose glory I survey!     O beg ye grace for those, that are on earth     All after ill example gone astray.     War once had for its instrument the sword:     But now 't is made, taking the bread away     Which the good Father locks from none. --And thou,     That writes but to cancel, think, that they,     Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,     Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.     Thou hast good cause to cry, "My heart so cleaves     To him, that liv'd in solitude remote,     And from the wilds was dragg'd to martyrdom,     I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul."