# Paradise Canto 18

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-20 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Paradise Canto 17  Next: Paradise Canto 19  
> 
> Canto XVIII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Dante sees the souls of many renowned warriors and crusaders in the
> planet Mars; and then ascends with Beatrice to Jupiter, the sixth heaven, in
> which he finds the souls of those who had administered justice rightly in the
> world, so disposed, as to form the figure of an eagle. The Canto concludes
> with an invective against the avarice of the clergy, and especially of the
> pope.
> 
> Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd
> That blessed spirit  and I fed on mine,
> Tempering 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 gazed 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
> Contended; 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
> The affection mark'd, when that its sway hath ta'en
> The spirit wholly; thus the hallow'd light,[1]
> 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,[2] whose life
> Is from its top, whose fruit is ever fair
> And leaf unwithering, blessed spirits abide,
> That were below, ere they arrived in Heaven,
> 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 in 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,[3] another move
> With whirling speed; and gladness was the scourge
> Unto that top. The next for Charlemain
> And for the peer Orlando, two my gaze
> Pursued, intently, as the eye pursues
> A falcon flying. Last, along the cross,
> William, and Renard,[4] and Duke Godfrey[5] drew
> My ken, and Robert Guiscard.[6] And the soul
> Who spake with me, among the other lights
> Did move away, and mix; and with the quire
> Of heavenly songsters proved his tuneful skill.
> 
> [1: In which the spirit of Cacciaguida was enclosed.]
> 
> [2: Mars, the fifth of the heavens.]
> 
> [3: Judas Maccabaeus.]
> 
> [4: Probably not William II of Orange, and his kinsman Raimbaud, two
> of the crusaders under Godfrey of Bouillon, but rather the two more celebrated
> heroes in the age of Charlemain. The former, William I of Orange, supposed to
> have been the founder of the present illustrious family of that name, died
> about 808. The latter has been celebrated by Ariosto, under the name of
> Rinaldo.]
> 
> [5: Godfrey of Bouillon.]
> 
> [6: See Hell, Canto xxviii. 12.]
> 
> To Beatrice on my right I bent,
> Looking for intimation, or by word
> Or act, what next behoved; and did descry
> Such mere effulgence in her eyes, such joy,
> It pass'd all former wont. And, as by sense
> Of new delight, the man, who perseveres
> In good deeds, doth perceive, from day to day,
> 
> His virtue growing; I e'en thus perceived,
> Of my ascent, together with the Heaven,
> The circuit widen'd; noting the increase
> Of beauty in that wonder. Like the change
> In a brief moment on some maiden's cheek,
> Which, from its fairness, doth discharge the weight
> Of pudency, that stain'd it; such in her,
> And to mine eyes so sudden was the change,
> Through silvery whiteness of that temperate star,
> Whose sixth orb now enfolded us. I saw,
> Within that Jovial cresset, the clear sparks
> Of love, that reign'd there, fashion to my view
> Our language. And as birds, from river banks
> Arisen, now in round, now lengthen'd troop,
> Array them in their flight, greeting, as seems
> Their new - found pastures; so, within the lights,
> The saintly creatures flying, sang; and made
> Now D, now I, now L, figured i' the air
> First singing to their notes they moved; then, one
> Becoming of these signs, a little while
> Did rest them, and were mute. O nymph divine
> Of Pegasean race! who souls, which thou
> Inspirest, makest glorious and long - lived, as they
> Cities and realms by thee; thou with thyself
> Inform me; that I may set forth the shapes,
> As fancy doth present them: be thy power
> Display'd in this brief song. The characters,
> Vocal and consonant, were five - fold seven.
> In order, each, as they appear'd, I mark'd.
> Diligite Justitiam, the first,
> Both verb and noun all blazon'd; and the extreme,
> Qui judicatis terram. In the M
> Of the fifth word they held their station;
> Making the star seem silver streak'd with gold.
> And on the summit of the M, I saw
> Descending other lights, that rested there,
> Singing, methinks, their bliss and primal good.
> Then, as at shaking of a lighted brand,
> Sparkles innumerable on all sides
> Rise scatter'd, source of augury to the unwise;
> Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence
> Seem'd reascending; and a higher pitch
> Some mounting, and some less, e'en as the sun,
> Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one
> Had settled in his place; the head and neck
> Then saw I of an eagle, livelily
> Graved in that streaky fire. Who painteth there,[7]
> Hath none to guide Him: of Himself He guides:
> And every line and texture of the nest
> Doth own from Him the virtue fashions it.
> The other bright beatitude,[8] that seem'd
> Erewhile, with lilied crowning, well content
> To over-canopy the M, moved forth,
> Following gently the impress of the bird.
> 
> [7: "Who painteth there." The Deity himself.]
> 
> [8: The band of spirits.]
> 
> Sweet star; what glorious and thick - studded gems
> Declared to me our justice on the earth
> To be the effluence of that Heaven, which thou,
> Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay.
> Therefore I pray the Sovran Mind, from whom
> Thy motion and thy virtue are begun,
> That He would look from whence the fog doth rise,
> To vitiate thy beam; so that once more[9]
> He may put forth his hand 'gainst such, as drive
> Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls
> With miracles and martyrdoms were built.
> 
> [9: That he may again drive out those who buy and sell in the
> temple.]
> 
> Ye host of Heaven, whose glory I survey!
> O beg ye grace for those, that are, on earth,
> All after ill example gone astray.
> War once had for his instrument the sword:
> But now 'tis made, taking the bread away,[10]
> Which the good Father locks from none. - And thou,
> That writest but to cancel,[11] think, that they,
> Who for the vineyard, which thou wastest, died,
> Peter and Paul, live yet, and mark thy doings.
> 
> [10: "Taking the bread away." Excommunication, or interdiction of the
> Eucharist, is now employed as a weapon of warfare.]
> 
> [11: "That writest but to cancel." "And thou, Pope Boniface, who
> writest thy ecclesiastical censures for no other purpose than to be paid for
> revoking them."]
> 
> Thou hast good cause to cry, "My heart so cleaves
> To him,[12] that lived in solitude remote,
> And for a dance was dragg'd to martyrdom,
> I wist not of the Fisherman nor Paul."
> 
> [12: "To him." The coin of Florence was stamped with the impression
> of John the Baptist; and, for this, the avaricious Pope is made to declare
> that he felt more devotion, than either for Peter or Paul.]
>
> — *Paradise Canto 18*