Who to such good had destin’d him, was pleas’d
T’ advance him to the meed, which he had earn’d
By his self-humbling, to his brotherhood,
As their just heritage, he gave in charge
His dearest lady, and enjoin’d their love
And faith to her:  and, from her bosom, will’d
His goodly spirit should move forth, returning
To its appointed kingdom, nor would have
His body laid upon another bier.

“Think now of one, who were a fit colleague,
To keep the bark of Peter in deep sea
Helm’d to right point; and such our Patriarch was. 
Therefore who follow him, as he enjoins,
Thou mayst be certain, take good lading in. 
But hunger of new viands tempts his flock,
So that they needs into strange pastures wide
Must spread them:  and the more remote from him
The stragglers wander, so much mole they come
Home to the sheep-fold, destitute of milk. 
There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm,
And to the shepherd cleave; but these so few,
A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks.

“Now, if my words be clear, if thou have ta’en
Good heed, if that, which I have told, recall
To mind, thy wish may be in part fulfill’d: 
For thou wilt see the point from whence they split,
Nor miss of the reproof, which that implies,
‘That well they thrive not sworn with vanity."’

CANTO XII

Soon as its final word the blessed flame
Had rais’d for utterance, straight the holy mill
Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv’d,
Or ere another, circling, compass’d it,
Motion to motion, song to song, conjoining,
Song, that as much our muses doth excel,
Our Sirens with their tuneful pipes, as ray
Of primal splendour doth its faint reflex.

As when, if Juno bid her handmaid forth,
Two arches parallel, and trick’d alike,
Span the thin cloud, the outer taking birth
From that within (in manner of that voice
Whom love did melt away, as sun the mist),
And they who gaze, presageful call to mind
The compact, made with Noah, of the world
No more to be o’erflow’d; about us thus
Of sempiternal roses, bending, wreath’d
Those garlands twain, and to the innermost
E’en thus th’ external answered.  When the footing,
And other great festivity, of song,
And radiance, light with light accordant, each
Jocund and blythe, had at their pleasure still’d
(E’en as the eyes by quick volition mov’d,
Are shut and rais’d together), from the heart
Of one amongst the new lights mov’d a voice,
That made me seem like needle to the star,
In turning to its whereabout, and thus
Began:  “The love, that makes me beautiful,
Prompts me to tell of th’ other guide, for whom
Such good of mine is spoken.  Where one is,
The other worthily should also be;
That as their warfare was alike, alike
Should be their glory.  Slow, and full of doubt,