For it is not in space, nor turns on poles, And unto it our stairway reaches up, Whence thus from out thy sight it steals away. Up to that height the Patriarch Jacob saw it 1796 Extending its supernal part, what time So thronged with angels it appeared to him. But to ascend it now no one uplifts His feet from off the earth, and now my Rule Below remaineth for mere waste of paper. 1797 The walls that used of old to be an Abbey Are changed to dens of robbers, and the cowls 1798 Are sacks filled full of miserable flour. But heavy usury is not taken up 1799 So much against God’s pleasure as that fruit Which maketh so insane the heart of monks; For whatsoever hath the Church in keeping Is for the folk that ask it in God’s name, Not for one’s kindred or for something worse. The flesh of mortals is so very soft, That good beginnings down below suffice not