The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• The Trinity of Love
• Preface
• Paradiso I
• Paradiso Ii
• Paradiso Iii
• Paradiso Iv
• Paradiso V
• Paradiso Vi
• Paradiso Vii
• Paradiso Viii
• Paradiso Ix
• Paradiso X
• Paradiso Xi
• Paradiso Xii
• Paradiso Xiii
• Paradiso Xiv
• Paradiso Xv
• Paradiso Xvi
• Paradiso Xvii
• Paradiso Xviii
• Paradiso Xix
• Paradiso Xx
• Paradiso Xxi
• Paradiso Xxii
• Paradiso Xxiii
• Paradiso Xxiv
• Paradiso Xxv
• Paradiso Xxvi
• Paradiso Xxvii
• Paradiso Xxviii
• Paradiso Xxix
• Paradiso Xxx
• Paradiso Xxxi
• Paradiso Xxxii
• Paradiso Xxxiii

PARADISO XVI

• O thou our small nobility of blood!
• That thou shouldst make some people boast of thee
• down here, where languid our affections are,
• will never be to me a wondrous thing;
• for there, where love turns not aside, in Heaven
• I mean, ev’n I myself was proud of thee.
• Thou truly art a cloak which soon grows short;
• so that from day to day, if thou be not
• patched out, time goes around thee with its shears.

• Hence with the “you,” which Rome the first endured,
• and in whose use her race least perseveres,
• my words began again; whence Beatrice,
• who at a little distance from me stood,
• by smiling here, resembled her who coughed
• at the first fault ascribed to Guinevere.

• “You are my father,” I began to say;
• “you to my speech complete assurance give;
• you so uplift me, that I ’m more than I.
• My mind is by so many brooklets filled
• with joy, that it congratulates itself
• that, without breaking, it can stand the strain

• Tell me, then, you my dear progenitor,
• who were your ancestors, and what the years
• which in your boyhood’s time were chronicled;
• and tell me of the sheepfold of St. John,
• how large it was, and who were in it then,
• that in the highest seats deserved to sit.”

• As at the breathing of the winds a coal
• is quickened into flame, ev’n so I saw,
• at my endearing words, that bright light glow;
• and to mine eyes as fairer it became,
• so with a gentler and a sweeter voice,
• but not in this our modern form of speech,
• it said to me: “From that day on, when ‘Hail’
• was uttered, to the child-birth when my mother,
• who now is sainted, was relieved of me
• who burdened her, this fire had to its Lion
• four hundred fifty and thirty times returned
• to light itself again beneath its paws.

• My first progenitors and I were born
• just there where first the town’s last ward is found
• by him who runneth in your annual race.
• Let of my forebears this suffice to hear;
• for as to who they were, and whence came hither,
• silence is more commendable than speech.

• All those that ’tween Mars’s statue and the Baptist
• who at that time were able to bear arms,
• were but the fifth of those that live there now;

• but then its citizens, who now with men
• from Campi, Certàldo and Figghìne mix,
• were in the lowest artisan seen pure.

• Oh, how much better it would be to keep
• as neighbors those to whom I here refer,
• and at Galluzzo and Trespiano mark
• our boundary, than have them in our town,
• and bear the stench of Aguglione’s churl,
• and Signa’s, who for graft hath sharpened eyes!

• If those who in the world are lowest fallen,
• had not step-mother-like to Caesar been,
• but kind, as to her son a mother is;
• one such is now a Florentine, and barters
• and trades, who would have turned to Semifonti,
• where formerly his grandsire mounted guard.
• The Conti still would own their Montemurlo,
• the Cerchi in Acone’s parish be,
• and in the Valdigreve still, perhaps,
• the Buondelmonti. Ever was the mixing
• of clans the fountain of the city’s woe,
• as of the body’s ill superfluous food;
• for sooner will a blinded bull succumb
• than will a blinded lamb, and one sword oft
• will cut both more and better than will five.

• If thou consider Luni and Urbisaglia
• how they have gone, and how now in their wake
• Chiusi and Sinigaglia go their way,

• it will not seem or strange for thee or hard,
• to hear how families degenerate,
• since even cities have their term of life.
• All your creations die, as well as you;
• but death conceals itself in some that long
• endure, while individual lives are short!
• And as the turning of the lunar sphere
• covers and bares earth’s shores without surcease,
• ev’n so doth Fortune deal with Florence; hence,
• it should not seem a wondrous thing to thee
• what I of those great Florentines shall say,
• whose fame is hidden in the folds of time.

• I saw the Ughi, and saw the Catellini,
• Filippi, Greci, Ormanni and Alberichi,
• though in decline, illustrious citizens;
• and I, as great as they were ancient, saw,
• with him of La Sanella, him of L’Arca,
• the Soldanieri, Ardinghi and Bostichi.
• Over the gate which is at present burdened
• with recent felony of such great weight,
• that there will soon be jetsam from the bark,
• the Ravignani dwelt, from whom there sprung
• Count Guido, and whoever since his time
• hath noble Bellincione’s name assumed.
• He of La Pressa knew already how
• to rule; and Galigàio in his house
• already had a gilded hilt and pummel.

• Mighty already were the Column of the Vair,
• Sachetti, Giuochi, Fifanti and Barucci,
• the Galli, and those that for the bushel blush.
• The stock whence the Calfucci sprang was great
• already; while already were the Sizii
• and Arigucci raised to curule chairs.
• And oh, how great I saw those now undone
• through arrogance! Then, too, the golden balls
• decked Florence forth in all her mighty deeds.
• So likewise fared the ancestors of those,
• who, when your church is vacant, always fatten
• by staying in consistory together.
• The haughty race, which like a dragon deals
• with those that flee, and unto those that show
• their teeth or purse, is peaceful as a lamb,
• was rising now, but from so low a clan,
• that Ubertin Donati was displeased,
• when by his own wife’s father made their kin.
• Already had the Caponsacco dropped
• from Fiesole into the Market, while,
• as townsmen, good were Guida and Infangato.
• I ’ll tell a thing incredible and true:
• the small ring then was entered by a gate,
• which from the della Pera took its name.
• Each one who bears that mighty Baron’s arms,
• whose name and whose renown the festival
• of Thomas keepeth green, received from him

• knighthood and privilege; though he, today
• consorteth with the people, who surrounds
• them with a border. Both the Gualterotti
• and Importuni were already there;
• and now their Borgo would more quiet be,
• if from new neighbors it were fasting still.
• The family, which to your tears gave birth,
• through the just scorn which brought about your death,
• and put an end to your once happy life,
• was honored, in itself and in its kin.
• How, Buondelmonte, ill-advised thou wast
• to flee their marriage, counselled by another!
• Many would happy be, who now are sad,
• if God had to the Ema granted thee,
• when coming for the first time into town;
• but Florence to that mutilated stone
• which guards the bridge, must needs a sacrifice
• afford, when in her final hour of peace.

• With these same families, and others with them
• Florence I saw in such a state of rest,
• that no occasion had she then for tears;
• with these same families I saw her then
• so glorious and so righteous, that the Lily
• was never set upon a staff reversed,
• nor made, because of her divisions, red.”