(3) Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth. And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire? Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such. Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward To wait for further blows, or little girl, Or other vanity of such brief use. The callow birdlet waits for two or three, But to the eyes of those already fledged, In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot." Even as children silent in their shame Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, And conscious of their fault, and penitent; So was I standing; and she said: "If thou In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing." With less resistance is a robust holm Uprooted, either by a native wind Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,

(2) What trenches lying traverse or what chains Didst thou discover, that of passing onward Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope? And what allurements or what vantages Upon the forehead of the others showed, That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?" After the heaving of a bitter sigh, Hardly had I the voice to make response, And with fatigue my lips did fashion it. Weeping I said: "The things that present were With their false pleasure turned aside my steps, Soon as your countenance concealed itself." And she: "Shouldst thou be silent, or deny What thou confessest, not less manifest Would be thy fault, by such a Judge 'tis known. But when from one's own cheeks comes bursting forth The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself. But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame For thy transgression, and another time Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong, Cast down the seed of weeping and attend; So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way My buried flesh should have directed thee.

(42) Then said the Spirit of Nature (viz. the young Man) My fair Pearl and Chastity, I pray thee let me enjoy thy Comfort, if thou wilt not copulate with me, that I may impregnate in thee, yet do but inclose thy Pearl in my Heart, that I may have it for my own. Art thou not my golden Crown? How fain would I taste of thy Fruit.

(20) Thus the Soul desired the Pearl again, but it was gone, and must be generated anew, and be sown as a Grain of Mustard-seed, which is small and little, and afterwards there grows a great Tree out of it; and thus the Pearl grows in the Bosom of the Virgin in the Soul. Therefore keep what thou hast, for Misery is an ill Guest; regard not what Sugar the Devil strows, though the Kingdom of this World seems as sweet as Sugar, it is nothing else but Gall; consider that the poor Soul in this World, and in the Flesh and Blood, is not in its true Home, it must travel into another Country. Therefore suffer not the Devil to cover it thus with the Untowardness of the Flesh, for great Earnestness is requisite for the Driving away of the Devil; though that would not be in our Ability [and Power,] if the exceeding worthy Champion did not aid and assist us.

(46) Therefore seek for the noble Pearl; it is much more precious than this [whole] World; it will never more depart from you: And where the Pearl is, there will your Heart be also: You need not here ask any further after Paradise, Joy, and the heavenly Delightfulness; seek but the Pearl, and when you find that, then you find Paradise, and the Kingdom of Heaven, and you will be so taught, as being without it you cannot believe.

(2) Even thus, relieved from the delay of waiting, That murmuring of the eagle mounted up Along its neck, as if it had been hollow. There it became a voice, and issued thence From out its beak, in such a form of words As the heart waited for wherein I wrote them. "The part in me which sees and bears the sun In mortal eagles," it began to me, "Now fixedly must needs be looked upon; For of the fires of which I make my figure, Those whence the eye doth sparkle in my head Of all their orders the supremest are. He who is shining in the midst as pupil Was once the singer of the Holy Spirit, Who bore the ark from city unto city; Now knoweth he the merit of his song, In so far as effect of his own counsel, By the reward which is commensurate. Of five, that make a circle for my brow, He that approacheth nearest to my beak Did the poor widow for her son console; Now knoweth he how dearly it doth cost Not following Christ, by the experience Of this sweet life and of its opposite.

(3) Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand; Whereas the thing incredible has caused me To put him to an act which grieveth me. But tell him who thou wast, so that by way Of some amends thy fame he may refresh Up in the world, to which he can return." And the trunk said: "So thy sweet words allure me, I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not, That I a little to discourse am tempted. I am the one who both keys had in keeping Of Frederick's heart, and turned them to and fro So softly in unlocking and in locking, That from his secrets most men I withheld; Fidelity I bore the glorious office So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses. The courtesan who never from the dwelling Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes, Death universal and the vice of courts, Inflamed against me all the other minds, And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus, That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings. My spirit, in disdainful exultation, Thinking by dying to escape disdain, Made me unjust against myself, the just.

(5) Yet would I not thy neighbours thou shouldst envy, Because thy life into the future reaches Beyond the punishment of their perfidies." When by its silence showed that sainted soul That it had finished putting in the woof Into that web which I had given it warped, Began I, even as he who yearneth after, Being in doubt, some counsel from a person Who seeth, and uprightly wills, and loves: "Well see I, father mine, how spurreth on The time towards me such a blow to deal me As heaviest is to him who most gives way. Therefore with foresight it is well I arm me, That, if the dearest place be taken from me, I may not lose the others by my songs. Down through the world of infinite bitterness, And o'er the mountain, from whose beauteous summit The eyes of my own Lady lifted me, And afterward through heaven from light to light, I have learned that which, if I tell again, Will be a savour of strong herbs to many. And if I am a timid friend to truth, I fear lest I may lose my life with those Who will hereafter call this time the olden."

(1) "O thou who art beyond the sacred river," Turning to me the point of her discourse, That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen, She recommenced, continuing without pause, "Say, say if this be true; to such a charge, Thy own confession needs must be conjoined." My faculties were in so great confusion, That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct Than by its organs it was set at large. Awhile she waited; then she said: "What thinkest? Answer me; for the mournful memories In thee not yet are by the waters injured." Confusion and dismay together mingled Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight Was needful to the understanding of it. Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 'tis discharged Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark, So I gave way beneath that heavy burden, Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs, And the voice flagged upon its passage forth. Whence she to me: "In those desires of mine Which led thee to the loving of that good, Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to,

(3) And I: "My Master, among such as these I ought forsooth to recognise some few, Who were infected with these maladies." And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest; The undiscerning life which made them sordid Now makes them unto all discernment dim. Forever shall they come to these two buttings; These from the sepulchre shall rise again With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn. Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle; Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it. Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce Of goods that are committed unto Fortune, For which the human race each other buffet; For all the gold that is beneath the moon, Or ever has been, of these weary souls Could never make a single one repose." "Master," I said to him, "now tell me also What is this Fortune which thou speakest of, That has the world's goods so within its clutches?" And he to me: "O creatures imbecile, What ignorance is this which doth beset you? Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.

(5) The ice, that was about my heart congealed, To air and water changed, and in my anguish Through mouth and eyes came gushing from my breast. She, on the right-hand border of the car Still firmly standing, to those holy beings Thus her discourse directed afterwards: "Ye keep your watch in the eternal day, So that nor night nor sleep can steal from you One step the ages make upon their path; Therefore my answer is with greater care, That he may hear me who is weeping yonder, So that the sin and dole be of one measure. Not only by the work of those great wheels, That destine every seed unto some end, According as the stars are in conjunction, But by the largess of celestial graces, Which have such lofty vapours for their rain That near to them our sight approaches not, Such had this man become in his new life Potentially, that every righteous habit Would have made admirable proof in him;

(2) These words excited Statius at first Somewhat to laughter; afterward he answered: "Each word of thine is love's dear sign to me. Verily oftentimes do things appear Which give fallacious matter to our doubts, Instead of the true causes which are hidden! Thy question shows me thy belief to be That I was niggard in the other life, It may be from the circle where I was; Therefore know thou, that avarice was removed Too far from me; and this extravagance Thousands of lunar periods have punished. And were it not that I my thoughts uplifted, When I the passage heard where thou exclaimest, As if indignant, unto human nature, 'To what impellest thou not, O cursed hunger Of gold, the appetite of mortal men?' Revolving I should feel the dismal joustings. Then I perceived the hands could spread too wide Their wings in spending, and repented me As well of that as of my other sins; How many with shorn hair shall rise again Because of ignorance, which from this sin Cuts off repentance living and in death!

(48) Behold, dear Soul, herein lies the heavenly Tincture, which we must set down in a Similitude, and we cannot at all express it with Words. Indeed if we had the Tongue of Angels, we could then rightly express what the Mind apprehends; but the Pearl is cloathed [covered or vailed] with a dark [Cloak or] Garment: The Virgin calls stedfastly to the Heart of God, that he would deliver her Companion from the dark Worm; but the divine Answer still is, The Seed of the Woman shall break the Serpent's Head; that is, the Darkness of the Serpent shall be separated from the Bridegroom; the dark Garment wherewith the Serpent cloaths thy Bridegroom, and darkens thy Pearl and beauteous Crown, shall be broken, [corrupted or destroyed,] and turn to Earth; and thou shalt rejoice with thy Bridegroom in me; this was my eternal Will, it must stand.

(5) Sometimes an animal, when covered, struggles So that his impulse needs must be apparent, By reason of the wrappage following it; And in like manner the primeval soul Made clear to me athwart its covering How jubilant it was to give me pleasure. Then breathed: "Without thy uttering it to me, Thine inclination better I discern Than thou whatever thing is surest to thee; For I behold it in the truthful mirror, That of Himself all things parhelion makes, And none makes Him parhelion of itself. Thou fain wouldst hear how long ago God placed me Within the lofty garden, where this Lady Unto so long a stairway thee disposed. And how long to mine eyes it was a pleasure, And of the great disdain the proper cause, And the language that I used and that I made. Now, son of mine, the tasting of the tree Not in itself was cause of so great exile, But solely the o'erstepping of the bounds. There, whence thy Lady moved Virgilius, Four thousand and three hundred and two circuits Made by the sun, this Council I desired;