# Paradise Canto 27

*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 26  Next: Paradise Canto 28  
> 
> Canto XXVII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      St. Peter bitterly rebukes the covetousness of his successors in the
> Apostolic See, while all the heavenly host sympathize in his indignation; they
> then vanish upward. Beatrice bids Dante again cast his view below. Afterward
> they are borne into the ninth heaven, of which she shows him the nature and
> properties; blaming the perverseness of man, who places his will on low and
> perishable things.
> 
> Then "Glory to the Father, to the Son,
> And to the Holy Spirit," rang aloud
> Throughout all Paradise; that with the song
> My spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain.
> And what I saw was equal ecstasy:
> One universal smile it seem'd of all things;
> Joy past compare; gladness unutterable;
> Imperishable life of peace and love;
> Exhaustless riches, and unmeasured bliss.
> 
> Before mine eyes stood the four torches[1] lit:
> And that,[2] which first had come, began to wax
> In brightness; and, in semblance, such became,
> As Jove might be, if he and Mars were birds,
> And interchanged their plumes. Silence ensued,
> Through the blest quire; by Him, who here appoints
> Vicissitude of ministry, enjoin'd;
> When thus I heard: "Wonder not, if my hue
> Be changed; for, while I speak, these shalt thou see
> All in like manner change with me. My place
> He[3] who usurps on earth, (my place, ay, mine,
> Which in the presence of the Son of God
> Is void,) the same hath made my cemetery
> A common sewer of puddle and of blood:
> 
> [1: "Four torches." St. Peter, St. James, St. John, and Adam.]
> 
> [2: "That." St. Peter, who looked as the planet Jupiter would, if it
> assumed the sanguine appearance of Mars.]
> 
> [3: "He." Boniface VIII.]
> 
> The more below his triumph, who from hence
> Malignant fell." Such colour, as the sun,
> At eve or morning, paints an adverse cloud,
> Then saw I sprinkled over all the sky.
> And as the unblemish'd dame, who, in herself
> Secure of censure, yet at bare report
> Of other's failing, shrinks with maiden fear;
> So Beatrice, in her semblance, changed:
> And such eclipse in Heaven, methinks, was seen,
> When the Most Holy suffer'd. Then the words
> Proceeded, with voice, alter'd from itself
> So clean, the semblance did not alter more.
> "Not to this end was Christ's spouse with my blood,
> With that of Linus, and of Cletus,[4] fed;
> That she might serve for purchase of base gold:
> But for the purchase of this happy life,
> Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed,
> And Urban;[5] they, whose doom was not without
> Much weeping seal'd. No purpose was of ours,[6]
> That on the right hand of our successors,
> Part of the Christian people should be set,
> And part upon their left; nor that the keys,
> Which were vouchsafed me, should for ensign serve
> Unto the banners, that do levy war
> On the baptized; nor I, for sigil - mark,
> Set upon sold and lying privileges:
> Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red.
> In shepherd's clothing, greedy wolves[7] below
> Range wide o'er all the pastures. Arm of God!
> Why longer sleep'st thou? Cahorsines and Gascons[8]
> Prepare to quaff our blood. O good beginning!
> To what a vile conclusion must thou stoop.
> But the high Providence, which did defend,
> 
> [4: Bishops of Rome in the first century.]
> 
> [5: The former two, bishops of the same see, in the second; and the
> others, in the fourth century.]
> 
> [6: "We did not intend that our successors should take any part in
> the political divisions among Christians; or that my figure (the seal of St.
> Peter) should serve as a mark to authorize iniquitous grants and privileges."]
> 
> [7: "Wolves shall succeed to teachers, grievous wolves." - Milton,
> "Paradise Lost," b. xii 508.]
> 
> [8: He alludes to Jacques d'Ossa, a native of Cahors, pope, as John
> XXII, in 1316, after the chair had been two years vacant, and to Clement V, a
> Gascon.]
> 
> Through Scipio, the world's empery for Rome,
> Will not delay its succour: and thou, son,
> Who through thy mortal weight shalt yet again
> Return below, open thy lips, nor hide
> What is by me not hidden." As a flood
> Of frozen vapours streams adown the air,
> What time the she - goat[9] with her skiey horn
> Touches the sun; so saw I there stream wide
> The vapours, who with us had linger'd late,
> And with glad triumph deck the ethereal cope.
> Onward my sight their semblances pursued;
> So far pursued, as till the space between
> From its reach sever'd them: whereat the guide
> Celestial, marking me no more intent
> On upward gazing, said, "Look down, and see
> What circuit thou hast compast." From the hour[10]
> When I before had cast my view beneath,
> All the first region overpast I saw,
> Which from the midmost to the boundary winds;
> That onward, thence, from Gades,[11] I beheld
> The unwise passage of Laertes' son;
> And hitherward the shore,[12] where thou Europa,
> Madest thee a joyful burden; and yet more
> Of this dim spot had seen, but that the sun,[13]
> A constellation off and more, had ta'en
> His progress in the zodiac underneath.
> 
> [9: When the sun is in Capricorn.]
> 
> [10: "From the hour." Since he had last looked (see Canto xxii) he
> perceived that he had passed from the meridian circle to the eastern horizon;
> the half of our hemisphere, and a quarter of the heaven.]
> 
> [11: See Hell, Canto xxvi. 106.]
> 
> [12: Phoenicia, where Europa, daughter of Agenor, mounted on the back
> of Jupiter, in his shape of a bull.]
> 
> [13: "The sun." Dante was in the constellation of Gemini, and the sun
> in Aries. There was, therefore, part of those two constellations, and the
> whole of Taurus, between them.]
> 
> Then by the spirit, that doth never leave
> Its amorous dalliance with my lady's looks,
> Back with redoubled ardour were mine eyes
> Led unto her: and from her radiant smiles,
> Whenas I turn'd me, pleasure so divine
> Did lighten on me, that whatever bait
> Or art or nature in the human flesh,
> Or in its limn'd resemblance, can combine
> 
> Through greedy eyes to take the soul withal,
> Were, to her beauty, nothing. Its boon influence
> From the fair nest of Leda[14] rapt me forth,
> And wafted on into the swiftest Heaven.
> 
> [14: "The fair nest of Leda." From the Gemini; thus called, because
> Leda was the mother of the twins, Castor and Pollux.]
> 
> What place for entrance Beatrice chose,
> I may not say; so uniform was all,
> Liveliest and loftiest. She my secret wish
> Divined; and, with such gladness, that God's love
> Seem'd from her visage shining, thus began:
> "Here is the goal, whence motion on his race
> Starts: motionless the centre, and the rest
> All moved around. Except the soul divine.
> Place in this Heaven is none; the soul divine,
> Wherein the love, which ruleth o'er its orb,
> Is kindled, and the virtue, that it sheds:
> One circle, light and love, enclasping it,
> As this doth clasp the others; and to Him,
> Who draws the bound, its limit only known.
> Measured itself by none, it doth divide
> Motion to all, counted unto them forth,
> As by the fifth or half ye count forth ten.
> The vase, wherein time's roots are plunged, thou seest:
> Look elsewhere for the leaves. O mortal lust!
> That canst not lift thy head above the waves
> Which whelm and sink thee down. The will in man
> Bears goodly blossoms; but its ruddy promise
> Is, by the dripping of perpetual rain,
> Made mere abortion: faith and innocence
> Are met with but in babes; each taking leave,
> Ere cheeks with down are sprinkled: he, that fasts
> While yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose
> Gluts every food alike in every moon:
> One, yet a babbler, loves and listens to
> His mother; but no sooner hath free use
> Of speech, than he doth wish her in her grave.
> So suddenly doth the fair child of him,
> Whose welcome is the morn and eve his parting,
> To negro blackness change her virgin white.
> 
> "Thou, to abate thy wonder, note, that none
> Bears rule in earth; and its frail family
> Are therefore wanderers. Yet before the date,
> When through the hundredth in his reckoning dropt,
> Pale January must be shoved aside
> From winter's calendar, these heavenly spheres
> Shall roar so loud, that fortune shall be fain[15]
> To turn the poop, where she hath now the prow;
> So that the fleet run onward: and true fruit,
> Expected long, shall crown at last the bloom."
> 
> [15: "Fortune shall be fain." The commentators in general suppose
> that our Poet here augurs that great reform which he vainly hoped would follow
> on the arrival of the Emperor Henry VII in Italy.]
>
> — *Paradise Canto 27*