To vital nourishment.  The cry thou raisest,
Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits;
Which is of honour no light argument,
For this there only have been shown to thee,
Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep,
Spirits, whom fame hath note of.  For the mind
Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce
And fix its faith, unless the instance brought
Be palpable, and proof apparent urge.”

CANTO XVIII

Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy’d
That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine,
Tempting the sweet with bitter:  she meanwhile,
Who led me unto God, admonish’d:  “Muse
On other thoughts:  bethink thee, that near Him
I dwell, who recompenseth every wrong.” 
     At the sweet sounds of comfort straight I turn’d;
And, in the saintly eyes what love was seen,
I leave in silence here:  nor through distrust
Of my words only, but that to such bliss
The mind remounts not without aid.  Thus much
Yet may I speak; that, as I gaz’d on her,
Affection found no room for other wish. 
While the everlasting pleasure, that did full
On Beatrice shine, with second view
From her fair countenance my gladden’d soul
Contented; vanquishing me with a beam
Of her soft smile, she spake:  “Turn thee, and list. 
These eyes are not thy only Paradise.” 
     As here we sometimes in the looks may see
Th’ affection mark’d, when that its sway hath ta’en
The spirit wholly; thus the hallow’d light,
To whom I turn’d, flashing, bewray’d its will
To talk yet further with me, and began: 
“On this fifth lodgment of the tree, whose life
Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair
And leaf unwith’ring, blessed spirits abide,
That were below, ere they arriv’d in heav’n,
So mighty in renown, as every muse
Might grace her triumph with them.  On the horns
Look therefore of the cross:  he, whom I name,
Shall there enact, as doth 1n summer cloud
Its nimble fire.”  Along the cross I saw,
At the repeated name of Joshua,
A splendour gliding; nor, the word was said,
Ere it was done:  then, at the naming saw
Of the great Maccabee, another move
With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge
Unto that top.  The next for Charlemagne
And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze
Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues
A falcon flying.  Last, along the cross,
William, and Renard, and Duke Godfrey drew
My ken, and Robert Guiscard.  And the soul,
Who spake with me among the other lights
Did move away, and mix; and with the choir
Of heav’nly songsters prov’d his tuneful skill. 
     To Beatrice on my right l bent,
Looking for intimation or by word
Or act, what next behoov’d; and did descry
Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,
It past all former wont.  And, as by sense
Of new delight, the man, who perseveres