Sunday, November 20, 2011

Paradise 7/8

Such limit did its words prescribe to me,
The question I relinquished, and restricted
Myself to ask it humbly who it was.

Between two shores of Italy rise cliffs,
And not far distant from thy native place,
So high, the thunders far below them sound,

And form a ridge that Catria is called,
'Neath which is consecrate a hermitage
Wont to be dedicate to worship only.

Thus unto me the third speech recommenced,
And then, continuing, it said: Therein
Unto God's service I became so steadfast,

That feeding only on the juice of olives
Lightly I passed away the heats and frosts,
Contented in my thoughts contemplative.

That cloister used to render to these heavens
Abundantly, and now is empty grown,
So that perforce it soon must be revealed.

I in that place was Peter Damiano;
And Peter the Sinner was I in the house
Of Our Lady on the Adriatic shore.

Little of mortal life remained to me,
When I was called and dragged forth to the hat
Which shifteth evermore from bad to worse.


  1. No link? Couldn't come up with anybody who embodies temperance? Well, that's no great shock. If anybody really had self-restraint, they wouldn't be blogging.