Beautiful Clemence, after that thy Charles
  Had me enlightened, he narrated to me
  The treacheries his seed should undergo;

But said: "Be still and let the years roll round;"
  So I can only say, that lamentation
  Legitimate shall follow on your wrongs.

And of that holy light the life already
  Had to the Sun which fills it turned again,
  As to that good which for each thing sufficeth.

Ah, souls deceived, and creatures impious,
  Who from such good do turn away your hearts,
  Directing upon vanity your foreheads!

And now, behold, another of those splendours
  Approached me, and its will to pleasure me
  It signified by brightening outwardly.

The eyes of Beatrice, that fastened were
  Upon me, as before, of dear assent
  To my desire assurance gave to me.

"Ah, bring swift compensation to my wish,
  Thou blessed spirit," I said, "and give me proof
  That what I think in thee I can reflect!"

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.