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.”

CANTO X

Looking into his first-born with the love,
Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might
Ineffable, whence eye or mind
Can roam, hath in such order all dispos’d,
As none may see and fail to’ enjoy.  Raise, then,
O reader! to the lofty wheels, with me,
Thy ken directed to the point, whereat
One motion strikes on th’ other.  There begin
Thy wonder of the mighty Architect,
Who loves his work so inwardly, his eye
Doth ever watch it.  See, how thence oblique
Brancheth the circle, where the planets roll
To pour their wished influence on the world;
Whose path not bending thus, in heav’n above
Much virtue would be lost, and here on earth,
All power well nigh extinct:  or, from direct
Were its departure distant more or less,
I’ th’ universal order, great defect
Must, both in heav’n and here beneath, ensue. 
     Now rest thee, reader! on thy bench, and muse
Anticipative of the feast to come;