“God seeth all:  and in him is thy sight,”
Said I, “blest Spirit!  Therefore will of his
Cannot to thee be dark.  Why then delays
Thy voice to satisfy my wish untold,
That voice which joins the inexpressive song,
Pastime of heav’n, the which those ardours sing,
That cowl them with six shadowing wings outspread? 
I would not wait thy asking, wert thou known
To me, as thoroughly I to thee am known.”

He forthwith answ’ring, thus his words began: 
“The valley’ of waters, widest next to that
Which doth the earth engarland, shapes its course,
Between discordant shores, against the sun
Inward so far, it makes meridian there,
Where was before th’ horizon.  Of that vale
Dwelt I upon the shore, ’twixt Ebro’s stream
And Macra’s, that divides with passage brief
Genoan bounds from Tuscan.  East and west
Are nearly one to Begga and my land,
Whose haven erst was with its own blood warm. 
Who knew my name were wont to call me Folco: 
And I did bear impression of this heav’n,
That now bears mine:  for not with fiercer flame
Glow’d Belus’ daughter, injuring alike
Sichaeus and Creusa, than did I,
Long as it suited the unripen’d down
That fledg’d my cheek:  nor she of Rhodope,
That was beguiled of Demophoon;
Nor Jove’s son, when the charms of Iole
Were shrin’d within his heart.  And yet there hides
No sorrowful repentance here, but mirth,
Not for the fault (that doth not come to mind),
But for the virtue, whose o’erruling sway
And providence have wrought thus quaintly.  Here
The skill is look’d into, that fashioneth
With such effectual working, and the good
Discern’d, accruing to this upper world
From that below.  But fully to content
Thy wishes, all that in this sphere have birth,
Demands my further parle.  Inquire thou wouldst,
Who of this light is denizen, that here
Beside me sparkles, as the sun-beam doth
On the clear wave.  Know then, the soul of Rahab
Is in that gladsome harbour, to our tribe
United, and the foremost rank assign’d. 
He to that heav’n, at which the shadow ends
Of your sublunar world, was taken up,
First, in Christ’s triumph, of all souls redeem’d: 
For well behoov’d, that, in some part of heav’n,
She should remain a trophy, to declare
The mighty contest won with either palm;
For that she favour’d first the high exploit
Of Joshua on the holy land, whereof
The Pope recks little now.  Thy city, plant
Of him, that on his Maker turn’d the back,
And of whose envying so much woe hath sprung,
Engenders and expands the cursed flower,
That hath made wander both the sheep and lambs,
Turning the shepherd to a wolf.  For this,
The gospel and great teachers laid aside,
The decretals, as their stuft margins show,
Are the sole study.  Pope and Cardinals,
Intent on these, ne’er journey but in thought
To Nazareth, where Gabriel op’d his wings. 
Yet it may chance, erelong, the Vatican,
And other most selected parts of Rome,
That were the grave of Peter’s soldiery,
Shall be deliver’d from the adult’rous bond.”