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 XVII

• As that one came to Clỳmenë, who still
• to sons makes fathers chary, to be sure
• of that which he had heard against himself;
• even such was I, and such was felt to be
• by Beatrice, and by the holy lamp,
• who first on my account had changed his place.

• Wherefore my Lady said to me: “Express
• thy wish’s ardor, so that it may issue
• clearly impressed by its internal stamp;
• not that our knowledge may the greater grow
• by words of thine, but that thou mayst get used
• to tell thy thirst, that we may pour thee drink!”

• “O my dear root, that so dost lift thyself,
• that, as terrestrial minds perceive that no
• triangle holds two angles which are both
• obtuse; thou, likewise, gazing at the Point
• to which all things are present, dost perceive
• contingent things, ere in themselves they are;
• while I by Virgil was accompanied,
• upward around the Mount which healeth souls,
• and downward through the region of the dead,

• grave words were told me of my future life;
• although, indeed, I feel myself foursquare
• against the blows of fortune; my desire
• would hence contented be, were I to hear
• what kind of fortune is approaching me,
• for slower comes an arrow when foreseen.”

• Thus to that light I spoke, which had before
• addressed me; and, as Beatrice had willed,
• so was my wish confessed. Not in vague terms,
• in which the foolish folk of old were wont
• to get entangled, ere the Lamb of God,
• who taketh sins away, was put to death,
• but with clear words and unambiguous speech,
• that father’s love replied, which by its smile
• was both concealed and rendered manifest:

• “Contingence, which outside your matter’s volume
• doth not extend, is in the Eternal Vision
• wholly depicted; yet it taketh not
• necessity therefrom, save as a ship,
• while down a current moving, doth from eyes
• which mirror it.
• Therefrom, as from an organ
• sweet harmony attains one’s ears, the time
• which is for thee preparing strikes my sight.

• As through his false and cruel step-mother
• Hippolytus left Athens, so must thou
• leave Florence. This is willed already, this

• is sought, and soon will be achieved by him
• who meditates it there where every day
• Christ is both bought and sold. As usually,
• the blame will be imputed to the wronged
• in public outcry; but revenge for it
• will witness to the truth dispensing it.
• Thou shalt abandon all that thou hast loved
• with greatest tenderness; and of its shafts
• this is the one which exile’s bow shoots first.
• Thou shalt find out how salt another’s bread
• is wont to taste, and what a painful thing
• is going up and down another’s stairs.
• But what will bow thy shoulders most will be
• the bad and foolish company, with whom
• thou ’lt fall into this vale; for all ungrateful,
• mad and malevolent will it become
• against thee; but soon thereafter, it, not thou,
• will have its forehead red with blood. Its deeds
• will furnish proof of its bestiality;
• hence well-becoming will it be for thee
• to have made thyself a party by thyself.

• Thy earliest refuge and first lodging-place
• shall be the courtesy of that great Lombard,
• who on the Ladder bears the holy Bird;
• and who will have for thee such kind regard,
• that ’tween you two, in doing and in asking,
• that will be first, which is with others last.

• With him the man thou ’lt see, who was, when born,
• so stamped by this strong star, that notable
• will be his deeds. By reason of his youth,
• the nations are not yet aware of him,
• for only nine years have these wheels revolved
• around him; but, before the Gascon cheat
• the noble Henry, sparks of his character
• will manifest themselves by disregard
• for money or for toil. And so well known
• will his munificence hereafter be,
• that ev’n his enemies will not be able
• to still their tongues at it. On him rely,
• and on his favors; many will be changed
• because of him, the rich and those that beg
• exchanging states; and written on thy mind
• shalt thou bear hence, but shalt not tell it,” — here
• he told me things incredible to those
• who shall be present. Then he added: “Son,
• glosses are these on what was said to thee;
• behold the snares which lie concealed behind
• not many circlings of the sun. And yet
• I would not have thee envious toward thy neighbors,
• because thy life far longer will extend
• than will the punishment of their bad faith.”

• When by his silence that blest soul had showed
• that he was through with weaving in the woof
• of that same web which I had given him warped,

• then I began, like one who, doubting, longs
• for counsel from a man who both perceives,
• wills righteously and loves: “I clearly see,
• my father, how toward me a time spurs on,
• to deal me such a blow as heaviest is
• to him who gives least heed to it; ’t is, therefore, well
• that I should so with foresight arm myself,
• that if the place which is to me most dear
• be taken from me, I lose not the rest
• by these my verses. Downward through the world
• whose bitterness is endless, and around
• the Mount, from whose fair top my Lady’s eyes
• have lifted me, and afterward through Heaven
• from light to light, things have I heard which, if
• repeated, will for many have the taste
• of bitter herbs; and yet, if I ’m to truth
• a timid friend, I fear lest life I lose
• with those who shall of this age speak as ancient.”

• The light, wherein that treasure smiled, which there
• I found, sparkled at first, as in a sunbeam
• a golden mirror would; and then replied:
• “A conscience gloomy either with its own,
• or with another’s shame, will feel, indeed,
• the harshness of thy words; yet, none the less,
• all falsehood having been removed from it,
• cause thy whole vision to be manifest,
• and where the itch is let the scratching be!

• For if, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove
• offensive, it will after leave behind it,
• when once digested, vital nourishment.
• This cry of thine will do as doth the wind,
• which strikes the loftiest summits most; and this
• will no slight honor prove. Hence only souls
• well known to fame were shown thee in these Heavens,
• upon the Mount, and in the woeful Vale;
• because the mind of him who hears rests not,
• nor strengthens its belief by illustrations
• based upon what is hidden and unknown,
• or by an argument that is not clear.”