Where is this justice that condemneth him? Where is his fault, if he do not believe?’ Now who art thou, that on the bench wouldst sit In judgment at a thousand miles away, With the short vision of a single span? Truly to him who with me subtilizes, If so the Scripture were not over you, For doubting there were marvellous occasion. O animals terrene, O stolid minds, The primal will, that in itself is good, Ne’er from itself, the Good Supreme, has moved. So much is just as is accordant with it; No good created draws it to itself, But it, by raying forth, occasions that.” Even as above her nest goes circling round The stork when she has fed her little ones, And he who has been fed looks up at her, So lifted I my brows, and even such Became the blessed image, which its wings Was moving, by so many counsels urged. Circling around it sang, and said: “As are My notes to thee, who dost not comprehend them, Such is the eternal judgment to you mortals.” Those lucent splendors of the Holy Spirit