Canto I

directed tow’rds me with that look A mother casts on a delirious child; And she began: “All things whate’er they be Have order among themselves, and this is form, That makes the universe resemble God. Here do the higher creatures see the footprints Of the Eternal Power, which is the end Whereto is made the law already mentioned. In the order that I speak of are inclined All natures, by their destinies diverse, More or less near unto their origin; Hence they move onward unto ports diverse O’er the great sea of being; and each one With instinct given it which bears it on. This bears away the fire towards the moon; This is in mortal hearts the motive power; This binds together and unites the earth. Nor only the created things that are Without intelligence this bow shoots forth, But those that have both intellect and love. The Providence that regulates all this Makes with its light the heaven forever quiet, Wherein that turns which has the greatest haste. And thither now, as to a site decreed, Bears us away the virtue of that cord Which aims its arrows at a joyous mark. True is it, that as oftentimes the form Accords not with the intention of the art, Because in answering is matter deaf, So likewise from this course doth deviate Sometimes the creature, who the power possesses, Though thus impelled, to swerve some other way, (In the same wise as one may see the fire Fall from a cloud,) if the first impetus Earthward is wrested by some false delight. Thou shouldst not wonder more, if well I judge, At thine ascent, than at a rivulet From some high mount descending to the lowland. Marvel it would be in thee, if deprived Of hindrance, thou wert seated down below, As if on earth the living fire were quiet.” Thereat she heavenward turned again her face.