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 55
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.

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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

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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,

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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

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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;

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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

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Did not o'errun this side or that the measure. 105 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

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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,

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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

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Your just possession, through your Pastor's fault. There by that execrable race was I

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Released from bonds of the fallacious world,
The love of which defileth many souls,
And came from martyrdom unto this peace."

CANTO XVI.

O thou our poor nobility of blood,

If thou dost make the people glory in thee Down here where our affection languisheth, A marvellous thing it ne'er will be to me;

For there where appetite is not perverted, I say in Heaven, of thee I made a boast! Truly thou art a cloak that quickly shortens, So that unless we piece thee day by day Time goeth round about thee with his shears! With You, which Rome was first to tolerate,

(Wherein her family less perseveres,) Yet once again my words beginning made; Whence Beatrice, who stood somewhat apart, Smiling, appeared like unto her who coughed At the first failing writ of Guenever. And I began: "You are my ancestor, You give to me all hardihood to speak, You lift me so that I am more than I.

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So many rivulets with gladness fill

My mind, that of itself it makes a joy
Because it can endure this and not burst.

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Then tell me, my beloved root ancestral,

Who were your ancestors, and what the years That in your boyhood chronicled themselves?

Tell me about the sheepfold of Saint John,
How large it was, and who the people were
Within it worthy of the highest seats."

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As at the blowing of the winds a coal

Quickens to flame, so I beheld that light Become resplendent at my blandishments. And as unto mine eyes it grew more fair,

With voice more sweet and tender, but not in This modern dialect, it said to me:

"From uttering of the Ave, till the birth

In which my mother, who is now a saint,

Of me was lightened who had been her burden,

Unto its Lion had this fire returned

Five hundred fifty times and thirty more,
To reinflame itself beneath his paw.

My ancestors and I our birthplace had

Where first is found the last ward of the city By him who runneth in your annual game. Suffice it of my elders to hear this ;

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But who they were, and whence they thither came,
Silence is more considerate than speech.
All those who at that time were there between
Mars and the Baptist, fit for bearing arms,
Were a fifth part of those who now are living;
But the community, that now is mixed

With Campi and Certaldo and Figghine,
Pure in the lowest artisan was seen.

Oh how much better 't were to have as neighbors
The folk of whom I speak, and at Galluzzo
And at Trespiano have your boundary,
Than have them in the town, and bear the stench
Of Aguglione's churl, and him of Signa
Who hath sharp eyes for trickery already.
Had not the folk, which most of all the world
Degenerates, been a step-dame unto Cæsar,

Line 57. Who has sharp eyes for trickery already.

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