“Brother, our will is quieted by virtue Of charity, that makes us wish alone For what we have, nor gives us thirst for more. If to be more exalted we aspired, Discordant would our aspirations be Unto the will of Him who here secludes us; Which thou shalt see finds no place in these circles, If being in charity is needful here, And if thou lookest well into its nature; Nay, ’tis essential to this blest existence To keep itself within the will divine, Whereby our very wishes are made one; So that, as we are station above station Throughout this realm, to all the realm ’tis pleasing, As to the King, who makes his will our will. And his will is our peace; this is the sea To which is moving onward whatsoever It doth create, and all that nature makes.” Then it was clear to me how everywhere In heaven is Paradise, although the grace Of good supreme there rain not in one measure. But as it comes to pass, if one food sates, And for another still remains the longing, We ask for this, and that decline with thanks, E’en thus did I; with gesture and with word, To learn from her what was the web wherein She did not ply the shuttle to the end. “A perfect life and merit high in-heaven A lady o’er us,” said she, “by whose rule Down in your world they vest and veil themselves, That until death they may both watch and sleep Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts Which charity conformeth to his pleasure. To follow her, in girlhood from the world I fled, and in her habit shut myself, And pledged me to the pathway of her sect. Then men accustomed unto evil more Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me; God knows what afterward my life became. This other splendour, which to thee reveals Itself on my right side, and is enkindled With all the illumination of our sphere, What of myself I say applies to her; A nun was she, and likewise from her head Was ta’en the shadow of the sacred wimple. But when she too was to the world returned Against her wishes and against good usage, Of the heart’s veil she never was divested. Of great Costanza this is the effulgence, Who from the second wind of Suabia Brought forth the third and latest puissance.” Thus unto me she spake, and then began “Ave Maria” singing, and in singing Vanished, as through deep water something heavy. My sight, that followed her as long a time As it was possible, when it had lost her Turned round unto the mark of more desire, And wholly unto Beatrice reverted; But she such lightnings flashed into mine eyes, That at the first my sight endured it not; And this in questioning more backward made me. Paradiso: Canto IV Between two viands, equally removed And tempting, a free man would die of hunger Ere either he could bring unto his teeth.