Whereat the light, that still was new to me, Out of its depths, whence it before was singing, As one delighted to do good, continued: “Within that region of the land depraved Of Italy, that lies between Rialto And fountain-heads of Brenta and of Piava, Rises a hill, and mounts not very high, Wherefrom descended formerly a torch That made upon that region great assault. Out of one root were born both I and it; Cunizza was I called, and here I shine Because the splendour of this star o’ercame me. But gladly to myself the cause I pardon Of my allotment, and it does not grieve me; Which would perhaps seem strong unto your vulgar. Of this so luculent and precious jewel, Which of our heaven is nearest unto me, Great fame remained; and ere it die away This hundredth year shall yet quintupled be. See if man ought to make him excellent, So that another life the first may leave! And thus thinks not the present multitude Shut in by Adige and Tagliamento, Nor yet for being scourged is penitent. But soon ’twill be that Padua in the marsh Will change the water that Vicenza bathes, Because the folk are stubborn against duty; And where the Sile and Cagnano join One lordeth it, and goes with lofty head, For catching whom e’en now the net is making. Feltro moreover of her impious pastor Shall weep the crime, which shall so monstrous be That for the like none ever entered Malta. Ample exceedingly would be the vat That of the Ferrarese could hold the blood, And weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce, Of which this courteous priest shall make a gift To show himself a partisan; and such gifts Will to the living of the land conform. Above us there are mirrors, Thrones you call them, From which shines out on us God Judicant, So that this utterance seems good to us.” Here it was silent, and it had the semblance Of being turned elsewhither, by the wheel On which it entered as it was before. The other joy, already known to me, Became a thing transplendent in my sight, As a fine ruby smitten by the sun. Through joy effulgence is acquired above, As here a smile; but down below, the shade Outwardly darkens, as the mind is sad. “God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit, Thy sight is,” said I, “so that never will Of his can possibly from thee be hidden; Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens Glad, with the singing of those holy fires Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl, Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings? Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning If I in thee were as thou art in me.” “The greatest of the valleys where the water Expands itself,” forthwith its words began, “That sea excepted which the earth engarlands, Between discordant shores against the sun Extends so far, that it meridian makes Where it was wont before to make the horizon.