Before mine eyes stood the four torches lit;
And that, which first had come, began to wax
In brightness, and in semblance such became,
As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds,
And interchang’d their plumes.  Silence ensued,
Through the blest quire, by Him, who here appoints
Vicissitude of ministry, enjoin’d;
When thus I heard:  “Wonder not, if my hue
Be chang’d; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see
All in like manner change with me.  My place
He who usurps on earth (my place, ay, mine,
Which in the presence of the Son of God
Is void), the same hath made my cemetery
A common sewer of puddle and of blood: 
The more below his triumph, who from hence
Malignant fell.”  Such colour, as the sun,
At eve or morning, paints an adverse cloud,
Then saw I sprinkled over all the sky. 
And as th’ unblemish’d dame, who in herself
Secure of censure, yet at bare report
Of other’s failing, shrinks with maiden fear;
So Beatrice in her semblance chang’d: 
And such eclipse in heav’n methinks was seen,
When the Most Holy suffer’d.  Then the words
Proceeded, with voice, alter’d from itself
So clean, the semblance did not alter more. 
“Not to this end was Christ’s spouse with my blood,
With that of Linus, and of Cletus fed: 
That she might serve for purchase of base gold: 
But for the purchase of this happy life
Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed,
And Urban, they, whose doom was not without
Much weeping seal’d.  No purpose was of our
That on the right hand of our successors
Part of the Christian people should be set,
And part upon their left; nor that the keys,
Which were vouchsaf’d me, should for ensign serve
Unto the banners, that do levy war
On the baptiz’d:  nor I, for sigil-mark
Set upon sold and lying privileges;
Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red. 
In shepherd’s clothing greedy wolves below
Range wide o’er all the pastures.  Arm of God! 
Why longer sleepst thou?  Caorsines and Gascona
Prepare to quaff our blood.  O good beginning
To what a vile conclusion must thou stoop! 
But the high providence, which did defend
Through Scipio the world’s glory unto Rome,
Will not delay its succour:  and thou, son,
Who through thy mortal weight shall yet again
Return below, open thy lips, nor hide
What is by me not hidden.”  As a Hood
Of frozen vapours streams adown the air,
What time the she-goat with her skiey horn
Touches the sun; so saw I there stream wide
The vapours, who with us had linger’d late
And with glad triumph deck th’ ethereal cope. 
Onward my sight their semblances pursued;
So far pursued, as till the space between
From its reach sever’d them:  whereat the guide
Celestial, marking me no more intent
On upward gazing, said, “Look down and see
What circuit thou hast compass’d.”  From the hour