An end had put unto his reasoning
  The lofty Teacher, and attent was looking
  Into my face, if I appeared content;

And I, whom a new thirst still goaded on,
  Without was mute, and said within: "Perchance
  The too much questioning I make annoys him."

But that true Father, who had comprehended
  The timid wish, that opened not itself,
  By speaking gave me hardihood to speak.

Whence I: "My sight is, Master, vivified
  So in thy light, that clearly I discern
  Whate'er thy speech importeth or describes.

Therefore I thee entreat, sweet Father dear,
  To teach me love, to which thou dost refer
  Every good action and its contrary."

"Direct," he said, "towards me the keen eyes
  Of intellect, and clear will be to thee
  The error of the blind, who would be leaders.

The soul, which is created apt to love,
  Is mobile unto everything that pleases,
  Soon as by pleasure she is waked to action.

Your apprehension from some real thing
  An image draws, and in yourselves displays it
  So that it makes the soul turn unto it.

And if, when turned, towards it she incline,
  Love is that inclination; it is nature,
  Which is by pleasure bound in you anew

Then even as the fire doth upward move
  By its own form, which to ascend is born,
  Where longest in its matter it endures,

So comes the captive soul into desire,
  Which is a motion spiritual, and ne'er rests
  Until she doth enjoy the thing beloved.

Now may apparent be to thee how hidden
  The truth is from those people, who aver
  All love is in itself a laudable thing;

Because its matter may perchance appear
  Aye to be good; but yet not each impression
  Is good, albeit good may be the wax."

"Thy words, and my sequacious intellect,"
  I answered him, "have love revealed to me;
  But that has made me more impregned with doubt;

For if love from without be offered us,
  And with another foot the soul go not,
  If right or wrong she go, 'tis not her merit."

And he to me: "What reason seeth here,
  Myself can tell thee; beyond that await
  For Beatrice, since 'tis a work of faith.

Every substantial form, that segregate
  From matter is, and with it is united,
  Specific power has in itself collected,

Which without act is not perceptible,
  Nor shows itself except by its effect,
  As life does in a plant by the green leaves.

But still, whence cometh the intelligence
  Of the first notions, man is ignorant,
  And the affection for the first allurements,

Which are in you as instinct in the bee
  To make its honey; and this first desire
  Merit of praise or blame containeth not.

Now, that to this all others may be gathered,
  Innate within you is the power that counsels,
  And it should keep the threshold of assent.

This is the principle, from which is taken
  Occasion of desert in you, according
  As good and guilty loves it takes and winnows.

Those who, in reasoning, to the bottom went,
  Were of this innate liberty aware,
  Therefore bequeathed they Ethics to the world.

Supposing, then, that from necessity
  Springs every love that is within you kindled,
  Within yourselves the power is to restrain it.

The noble virtue Beatrice understands
  By the free will; and therefore see that thou
  Bear it in mind, if she should speak of it."