Classic Poem

CANTO XV.

Argument.

Cacciaguida narrates his history and praises the ancient customs of Florence.

T HE will benign, that evermore is fraught
With dews of love which holy things respire
(As wicked hearts with every evil thought)
Now hush'd the music of this sweetest lyre,
And still'd each sacred chord whose harmonies
The strong right hand of Heaven doth touch with fire
How should those bright and blessid Substances
Deny just pray'rs, when, that there might be born
In me desire to pray, their hymn did cease?
'Tis well that in undying pain should mourn
He who, for love of things which may not 'dure
Eternally, this love doth hold in scorn.
As at the evening hour serene and pure,
A sudden flame oft flashes o'er the sky,
Startling the eyes that deem'd themselves secure,
And seems a planet which its place on high
Doth leave; but from the spot whence it hath fled
No light is lost, and this doth quickly die:
Thus, from the point which tow'rd the right is stay'd,
Unto the foot of the bright Cross, a star
Of this fair constellation swiftly sped;
And, passing through the radiant transverse bar,
The jewel fell not from its glittering chain,
But seem'd an alabaster lamp. Afar,
Even so, if true our mightiest Muse's strain,
Of old, Anchises' shade appear'd, when he
Perceived his son on the Elysian plain.
" O mine own blood! what grace divine in thee
Abounds, that twice unto thy step the gate
Of heavenly blessidness unclosed shall be? "
Thus spake this light: I on his words did wait;
Then turn'd unto my Dame, whose glance did pile
On me fresh wonder in this mazid strait;
Because within her eyes there glow'd a smile
So sweet, I thought with mine the depths profound
To reach, of bliss and Paradise, the while.
And then most lovely both in sight and sound
The spirit added things which yet I might
Not comprehend, so deep his speech was found.
Nor he from choice conceal'd his words aright;
But of necessity, because his thought
For mortal mind soar'd in too high a flight.
And when the force with which his bow was fraught
Had somewhat spent itself, and thus his speech
More near unto our intellect was brought,
The words which first my weaker brain might reach
Were: " Blessid be thou, Holy Trine and One,
Who to my seed such wondrous lore dost teach! "
And thus went on: " The long desire, my son,
Drawn from the study of the Book of Might,
Where of each word and blank there changeth none,
Thou hast fulfillid now, within this light,
From whence I speak to thee; to her the meed
Of praise, who plumed thee for so bold a flight.
Thou deemest that to me thy thought doth speed
Through that which aye hath been; as when ye know
The unit, thence do five and six proceed.
Thus ask'st thou not my name; nor why I should
More joy to thee than others here profess,
Who with me in this gladsome throng do go.
Thou deem'st aright; the greater and the less,
In this blest life, within the mirror gaze
Which, ere thou thinkest, doth thy thought express.
But that the sacred love, in whose bright rays
Wakeful I dwell, and which my soul doth fill
With sweetest longing, in yet ampler ways
Be satisfied, now speak thou forth thy will:
Speak forth thy heart's desire, secure and bold,
To which my answer is appointed still. "
I turn'd to Beatrice, who did behold
My wish before I spake, and smiled to me
A glance which made my fancy's wing unfold
Yet wider. I began: " The love which ye
Possess, alike for each in weight doth show,
Before the First Divine Equality.
For, to the Sun whose light and heat do glow
Around you, all so equal seems your skill,
That scarce a fit comparison I know.
But in each mortal mind both power and will,
E'en for the cause to you most manifest,
In varying measure do their flight fulfil.
Whence I, a mortal, upon whom do rest
Unequal gifts, give thanks in heart alone,
For the paternal words to me addrest.
Thou living topaz, who, as precious stone,
Dost gem this fairest jewel, I entreat
That unto me thy name thou wouldst make known. "
" O mine own leaf, whom erst to me 'twas sweet
But to expect, thy root thou here dost see: "
(This the reply which did my question greet;
Then he went on:) " the man who gave to thee
Thy name, and who, a hundred years and more,
Round the first terrace toileth dolefully,
Was erst my son, and, in the days of yore,
Thy father's grandsire; thus thy works may well
Aid him to shorten this his torment sore.
Florence, within thine ancient walls, whence fell,
And still doth fall, upon the listening ear,
The chime of tierce and nones, thy sons did dwell
In sober peace. Nor did thy dames appear
With diadems, and chains, and daintiness
Of broider'd shoes; nor girdles did they bear
More beauteous than the wearers. Nor distress
Arose at birth of daughters, lest their dowers
Should be too scant, or fit occasion pass.
Then did no palace raise its lofty towers,
All void and tenantless; and none display'd
The last Assyrian Monarch's evil powers.
Nor Monte Mario was thrown in shade
By your Uccellatoio yet; whose woe
Shall conquer, as the pride anear it stay'd.
Then saw I Bellincioni Berti go,
Girt with a leather girdle; and his wife
Come forth, and yet no painted visage show.
And Nerli and Il Vecchio's house, so rife
With glory, went in homely garb content;
And, sooth, their dames were, in their simple life,
On spindle and on distaff all intent.
O happy days! when each one knew aright
His certain place of sepulture! None went
To seek for gain in France; nor, in his flight,
His wife deserted. In each quiet home,
With baby-speech that parents doth delight,
One soothed her child; and one the locks did comb
From off the distaff, singing, soft and low,
Of Troy, and of Fiesoli, and Rome.
Such wondrous thing, in sooth, it was to show
Cianghella then, or Lapo Salterel,
As Cincinnatus or Cornelia now.
Unto this pleasant life of which I tell,
This calm repose, this time of honest fame,
And homely truth, wherein 'twas sweet to dwell,
By Mary was I given, (with earnest claim
Invoked,) and in your ancient Baptistry,
Christian and Cacciaguida I became.
My brothers were Moront and Elisee:
My wife came forth from out the Vale of Po;
From her was ta'en the surname borne by thee.
Then with the Emperor Conrad did I go;
And he bestow'd on me the rank of knight:
Such praise he of my worthy deeds did show.
I follow'd him against the wicked might
Of that false law, whose people triumph o'er
(E'en for your Pastor's sin) your lawful right.
And there those misbelieving wretches bore
Me from the lying world, which doth not cease
Full many souls to wound with evil sore:
From martyrdom I came unto this land of peace. "