Detection must lay bare its vanity Pietro Damiano there was I yclept: Pietro the sinner, when before I dwelt Beside the Adriatic, in the house Of our blest Lady. Near upon my close Of mortal life, through much importuning I was constrain’d to wear the hat that still From bad to worse it shifted.—Cephas came; He came, who was the Holy Spirit’s vessel, Barefoot and lean, eating their bread, as chanc’d, At the first table. Modern Shepherd’s need Those who on either hand may prop and lead them, So burly are they grown: and from behind Others to hoist them. Down the palfrey’s sides Spread their broad mantles, so as both the beasts Are cover’d with one skin. O patience! thou That lookst on this and doth endure so long.” I at those accents saw the splendours down From step to step alight, and wheel, and wax, Each circuiting, more beautiful. Round this They came, and stay’d them; uttered them a shout So loud, it hath no likeness here: nor I Wist what it spake, so deaf’ning was the thunder. CANTO XXII Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turn’d me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most, And she was like the mother, who her son Beholding pale and breathless, with her voice Soothes him, and he is cheer’d; for thus she spake, Soothing me: “Know’st not thou, thou art in heav’n? And know’st not thou, whatever is in heav’n, Is holy, and that nothing there is done But is done zealously and well? Deem now, What change in thee the song, and what my smile had wrought, since thus the shout had pow’r to move thee. In which couldst thou have understood their prayers, The vengeance were already known to thee, Which thou must witness ere thy mortal hour, The sword of heav’n is not in haste to smite, Nor yet doth linger, save unto his seeming, Who in desire or fear doth look for it. But elsewhere now l bid thee turn thy view; So shalt thou many a famous spirit behold.” Mine eyes directing, as she will’d, I saw A hundred little spheres, that fairer grew By interchange of splendour. I remain’d, As one, who fearful of o’er-much presuming, Abates in him the keenness of desire, Nor dares to question, when amid those pearls, One largest and most lustrous onward drew, That it might yield contentment to my wish; And from within it these the sounds I heard.