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Blest spirits, how I wish I could hear you, how I wish I could clear my mind, listen out of a kind of noble innocence, to the tale of your war in Paradise, but not as it's about iron, or pride, or anger's weapons--I'd know of strong thoughts, rooted in God's truth, against enemies, imperious, swelled with conceit, hostile to what and where they came from, blind, only craving, fierce over, the meretricious: yours the victory--which, named for, I crave-- of peace, honor, God's realm, the finer strengths. You yielded to Jesus' love, whose Maker forgave us to give Him scope for splendor. |
An image of the Italian text from Visconti's 1840 edition |
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Notes: From V CXII:272. See also B S1:129:149; MS's: L, V2 (Ve2); Valgrisi 130. No translation. A third of four to the elect souls in Paradise. It reflects contemporary theological thought. See, e.g., Carlo Ossola, introd. Valdés, Juan de. Lo Evangelio di San Matteo, ed. Anna Maria Cavallarin. Roma: Bolzoni, 1985; and Paolo Simoncelli, Evangelismo italiano del Cinquecento: Questione religiosa e nicodemismo . Roma: Istituto Storico italiano per l'età moderna e contemporanea: 1979 Key |
