Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,
Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks
Of love, that reign’d there, fashion to my view
Our language. And as birds, from river banks
Arisen, now in round, now lengthen’d troop,
Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems,
Their new-found pastures; so, within the lights,
The saintly creatures flying, sang, and made
Now D. now I. now L. figur’d I’ th’ air.
First, singing, to their notes they mov’d, then
Becoming of these signs, a little while
Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine
Of Pegasean race! whose souls, which thou
Inspir’st, mak’st glorious and long-liv’d, as they
Cities and realms by thee! thou with thyself
Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes,
As fancy doth present them. Be thy power
Display’d in this brief song. The characters,
Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven.
In order each, as they appear’d, I mark’d.
Diligite Justitiam, the first,
Both verb and noun all blazon’d; and the extreme
Qui judicatis terram. In the M.
Of the fifth word they held their station,
Making the star seem silver streak’d with gold.
And on the summit of the M. I saw
Descending other lights, that rested there,
Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.
Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,
Sparkles innumerable on all sides
Rise scatter’d, source of augury to th’ unwise;
Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence
Seem’d reascending, and a higher pitch
Some mounting, and some less; e’en as the sun,
Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one
Had settled in his place, the head and neck
Then saw I of an eagle, lively
Grav’d in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,
Hath none to guide him; of himself he guides;
And every line and texture of the nest
Doth own from him the virtue, fashions it.
The other bright beatitude, that seem’d
Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content
To over-canopy the M. mov’d forth,
Following gently the impress of the bird.
Sweet star! what glorious and thick-studded gems
Declar’d to me our justice on the earth
To be the effluence of that heav’n, which thou,
Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay!
Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom
Thy motion and thy virtue are begun,
That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,
To vitiate thy beam: so that once more
He may put forth his hand ’gainst such, as drive
Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls
With miracles and martyrdoms were built.
Ye host of heaven! whose glory I survey!
O beg ye grace for those, that are on earth
All after ill example gone astray.
War once had for its instrument the sword:
But now ’t is made, taking the bread away
Which the good Father locks from none. —And thou,
That writes but to cancel, think, that they,
Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,
Peter and Paul live yet, and mark thy doings.
Thou hast good cause to cry, “My heart so cleaves
To him, that liv’d in solitude remote,
And from the wilds was dragg’d to martyrdom,
I wist not of the fisherman nor Paul.”