CANTO XVII

               Like Phaethon (one who still makes fathers wary   

                       of sons) when he had heard insinuations,

                       and he, to be assured, came to Clymene,

4             such was I and such was I seen to be

                       by Beatrice and by the holy lamp

                       that—earlier—had shifted place for me.

7             Therefore my lady said to me: “Display

                       the flame of your desire, that it may

                       be seen well-stamped with your internal seal,

10           not that we need to know what you’d reveal,

                       but that you learn the way that would disclose

                       your thirst, and you be quenched by what we pour.”

13           “O my dear root, who, since you rise so high,

                       can see the Point in which all times are present

                       for just as earthly minds are able to

16           see that two obtuse angles cannot be

                       contained in a triangle, you can see

                       contingent things before they come to be

19           while I was in the company of Virgil,

                       both on the mountain that heals souls and when

                       descending to the dead world, what I heard

22           about my future life were grievous words

                       although, against the blows of chance I feel   

                       myself as firmly planted as a cube.

25           Thus my desire would be appeased if I

                       might know what fortune is approaching me:

                       the arrow one foresees arrives more gently.”

28           So did I speak to the same living light

                       that spoke to me before; as Beatrice

                       had wished, what was my wish was now confessed.

31           Not with the maze of words that used to snare   

                       the fools upon this earth before the Lamb

                       of God who takes away our sins was slain,

34           but with words plain and unambiguous,

                       that loving father, hidden, yet revealed

                       by his own smile, replied: “Contingency,   

37           while not extending past the book in which

                       your world of matter has been writ, is yet

                       in the Eternal Vision all depicted

40           (but this does not imply necessity,

                       just as a ship that sails downstream is not

                       determined by the eye that watches it).

43           And from that Vision—just as from an organ

                       the ear receives a gentle harmony

                       what time prepares for you appears to me.

46           Hippolytus was forced to leave his Athens   

                       because of his stepmother, faithless, fierce;

                       and so must you depart from Florence: this   

49           is willed already, sought for, soon to be

                       accomplished by the one who plans and plots

                       where—every day—Christ is both sold and bought.

52           The blame, as usual, will be cried out   

                       against the injured party; but just vengeance

                       will serve as witness to the truth that wields it.

55           You shall leave everything you love most dearly:

                       this is the arrow that the bow of exile

                       shoots first. You are to know the bitter taste

58           of others’ bread, how salt it is, and know

                       how hard a path it is for one who goes

                       descending and ascending others’ stairs.

61           And what will be most hard for you to bear   

                       will be the scheming, senseless company

                       that is to share your fall into this valley;

64           against you they will be insane, completely

                       ungrateful and profane; and yet, soon after,

                       not you but they will have their brows bloodred.

67           Of their insensate acts, the proof will be

                       in the effects; and thus, your honor will

                       be best kept if your party is your self.

70           Your first refuge and your first inn shall be   

                       the courtesy of the great Lombard, he

                       who on the ladder bears the sacred bird;   

73           and so benign will be his care for you

                       that, with you two, in giving and in asking,

                       that shall be first which is, with others, last.

76           You shall—beside him—see one who, at birth,   

                       had so received the seal of this strong star

                       that what he does will be remarkable.

79           People have yet to notice him because

                       he is a boy—for nine years and no more

                       have these spheres wheeled around him—but before

82           the Gascon gulls the noble Henry, some   

                       sparks will have marked the virtue of the Lombard:

                       hard labor and his disregard for silver.

85           His generosity is yet to be

                       so notable that even enemies

                       will never hope to treat it silently.

88           Put trust in him and in his benefits:

                       his gifts will bring much metamorphosis

                       rich men and beggars will exchange their states.

91           What I tell you about him you will bear

                       inscribed within your mind—but hide it there”;

                       and he told things beyond belief even   

94           for those who will yet see them. Then he added:

                       “Son, these are glosses of what you had heard;

                       these are the snares that hide beneath brief years.

97           Yet I’d not have you envying your neighbors;

                       your life will long outlast the punishment

                       that is to fall upon their treacheries.”

100         After that holy soul had, with his silence,

                       showed he was freed from putting in the woof

                       across the web whose warp I set for him,

103         I like a man who, doubting, craves for counsel

                       from one who sees and rightly wills and loves,

                       replied to him: “I clearly see, my father,

106         how time is hurrying toward me in order

                       to deal me such a blow as would be most

                       grievous for him who is not set for it;

109         thus, it is right to arm myself with foresight,

                       that if I lose the place most dear, I may

                       not lose the rest through what my poems say.

112         Down in the world of endless bitterness,

                       and on the mountain from whose lovely peak

                       I was drawn upward by my lady’s eyes,

115         and afterward, from light to light in Heaven,

                       I learned that which, if I retell it, must

                       for many have a taste too sharp, too harsh;

118         yet if I am a timid friend of truth,

                       I fear that I may lose my life among

                       those who will call this present, ancient times.”

121         The light in which there smiled the treasure I   

                       had found within it, first began to dazzle,

                       as would a golden mirror in the sun,

124         then it replied: “A conscience that is dark

                       either through its or through another’s shame

                       indeed will find that what you speak is harsh.

127         Nevertheless, all falsehood set aside,

                       let all that you have seen be manifest,

                       and let them scratch wherever it may itch.

130         For if, at the first taste, your words molest,

                       they will, when they have been digested, end

                       as living nourishment. As does the wind,

133         so shall your outcry do—the wind that sends

                       its roughest blows against the highest peaks;

                       that is no little cause for claiming honor.

136         Therefore, within these spheres, upon the mountain,

                       and in the dismal valley, you were shown

                       only those souls that unto fame are known

139         because the mind of one who hears will not

                       put doubt to rest, put trust in you, if given

                       examples with their roots unknown and hidden,

142         or arguments too dim, too unapparent.”