Those first great geniuses moved by sublime
events lifted their wings to paradise,
while to us so many powerful signs
of God's goodness seem weak, barren, defaced.
But if nature can't open sick mortal
eyes to see beyond the self--at least deign
to look at yourself; surely you ought to
scorn complicity in great suffering.
Then you'll see what God expects, and within
the moving labyrinth of this earth hold
ever more fixedly to that solid
rock--the church--where is His Goodness. One can
separate weak nature from our acts, pray
his sweet mercy tempers most bitter wrong.
|An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition|
From V XII:172. See also B S1:32:101; in MS V2 (see Caruso f46); Valgrisi 32. My guess is this poem has an interlocutor and it's Ascanio Colonna, VC's younger brother, the oldest living son of Fabrizio. Key