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<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Vision of Purgatory</div>
<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Dante Alighieri</div>
<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: Henry Francis Cary</div>
<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Gustave Doré</div>
<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 5, 2004 [eBook #8795]<br />
[Most recently updated: December 29, 2022]</div>
<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: David Widger</div>
<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VISION OF PURGATORY ***</div>

<h1>THE VISION OF PURGATORY</h1>

<h2 class="no-break">BY DANTE ALIGHIERI</h2>

<h3>ILLUSTRATED BY GUSTAVE DORÉ</h3>

<h3>TRANSLATED BY<br/>
THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.</h3>

<hr />

<div class="chapter">

<h2>LIST OF CANTOS</h2>

<table summary="" style="">
<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.1">Canto 1</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.2">Canto 2</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.3">Canto 3</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.4">Canto 4</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.5">Canto 5</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.6">Canto 6</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.7">Canto 7</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.8">Canto 8</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.9">Canto 9</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.10">Canto 10</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.11">Canto 11</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.12">Canto 12</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.13">Canto 13</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.14">Canto 14</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.15">Canto 15</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.16">Canto 16</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.17">Canto 17</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.18">Canto 18</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.19">Canto 19</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.20">Canto 20</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.21">Canto 21</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.22">Canto 22</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.23">Canto 23</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.24">Canto 24</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.25">Canto 25</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.26">Canto 26</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.27">Canto 27</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.28">Canto 28</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.29">Canto 29</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.30">Canto 30</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.31">Canto 31</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.32">Canto 32</a></td>
</tr>

<tr>
<td> <a href="#cantoII.33">Canto 33</a></td>
</tr>

</table>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.1"></a>CANTO I</h2>

<p>
O’er better waves to speed her rapid course<br/>
The light bark of my genius lifts the sail,<br/>
Well pleas’d to leave so cruel sea behind;<br/>
And of that second region will I sing,<br/>
In which the human spirit from sinful blot<br/>
Is purg’d, and for ascent to Heaven prepares.<br/>
<br/>
Here, O ye hallow’d Nine! for in your train<br/>
I follow, here the deadened strain revive;<br/>
Nor let Calliope refuse to sound<br/>
A somewhat higher song, of that loud tone,<br/>
Which when the wretched birds of chattering note<br/>
Had heard, they of forgiveness lost all hope.<br/>
<br/>
Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread<br/>
O’er the serene aspect of the pure air,<br/>
High up as the first circle, to mine eyes<br/>
Unwonted joy renew’d, soon as I ’scap’d<br/>
Forth from the atmosphere of deadly gloom,<br/>
That had mine eyes and bosom fill’d with grief.<br/>
The radiant planet, that to love invites,<br/>
Made all the orient laugh, and veil’d beneath<br/>
The Pisces’ light, that in his escort came.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/01-19.jpg">
<img src="images/01-19.jpg" width="544" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
To the right hand I turn’d, and fix’d my mind<br/>
On the’ other pole attentive, where I saw<br/>
Four stars ne’er seen before save by the ken<br/>
Of our first parents. Heaven of their rays<br/>
Seem’d joyous. O thou northern site, bereft<br/>
Indeed, and widow’d, since of these depriv’d!<br/>
<br/>
As from this view I had desisted, straight<br/>
Turning a little tow’rds the other pole,<br/>
There from whence now the wain had disappear’d,<br/>
I saw an old man standing by my side<br/>
Alone, so worthy of rev’rence in his look,<br/>
That ne’er from son to father more was ow’d.<br/>
Low down his beard and mix’d with hoary white<br/>
Descended, like his locks, which parting fell<br/>
Upon his breast in double fold. The beams<br/>
Of those four luminaries on his face<br/>
So brightly shone, and with such radiance clear<br/>
Deck’d it, that I beheld him as the sun.<br/>
<br/>
“Say who are ye, that stemming the blind stream,<br/>
Forth from th’ eternal prison-house have fled?”<br/>
He spoke and moved those venerable plumes.<br/>
“Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure<br/>
Lights you emerging from the depth of night,<br/>
That makes the infernal valley ever black?<br/>
Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss<br/>
Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain’d,<br/>
That thus, condemn’d, ye to my caves approach?”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/01-49.jpg">
<img src="images/01-49.jpg" width="541" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
My guide, then laying hold on me, by words<br/>
And intimations given with hand and head,<br/>
Made my bent knees and eye submissive pay<br/>
Due reverence; then thus to him replied.<br/>
<br/>
“Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven<br/>
Descending, had besought me in my charge<br/>
To bring. But since thy will implies, that more<br/>
Our true condition I unfold at large,<br/>
Mine is not to deny thee thy request.<br/>
This mortal ne’er hath seen the farthest gloom.<br/>
But erring by his folly had approach’d<br/>
So near, that little space was left to turn.<br/>
Then, as before I told, I was dispatch’d<br/>
To work his rescue, and no way remain’d<br/>
Save this which I have ta’en. I have display’d<br/>
Before him all the regions of the bad;<br/>
And purpose now those spirits to display,<br/>
That under thy command are purg’d from sin.<br/>
How I have brought him would be long to say.<br/>
From high descends the virtue, by whose aid<br/>
I to thy sight and hearing him have led.<br/>
Now may our coming please thee. In the search<br/>
Of liberty he journeys: that how dear<br/>
They know, who for her sake have life refus’d.<br/>
Thou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet<br/>
In Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds,<br/>
That in the last great day will shine so bright.<br/>
For us the’ eternal edicts are unmov’d:<br/>
He breathes, and I am free of Minos’ power,<br/>
Abiding in that circle where the eyes<br/>
Of thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look<br/>
Prays thee, O hallow’d spirit! to own her shine.<br/>
Then by her love we’ implore thee, let us pass<br/>
Through thy sev’n regions; for which best thanks<br/>
I for thy favour will to her return,<br/>
If mention there below thou not disdain.”<br/>
<br/>
“Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,”<br/>
He then to him rejoin’d, “while I was there,<br/>
That all she ask’d me I was fain to grant.<br/>
Now that beyond the’ accursed stream she dwells,<br/>
She may no longer move me, by that law,<br/>
Which was ordain’d me, when I issued thence.<br/>
Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst,<br/>
Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs.<br/>
Enough for me that in her name thou ask.<br/>
Go therefore now: and with a slender reed<br/>
See that thou duly gird him, and his face<br/>
Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence.<br/>
For not with eye, by any cloud obscur’d,<br/>
Would it be seemly before him to come,<br/>
Who stands the foremost minister in heaven.<br/>
This islet all around, there far beneath,<br/>
Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed<br/>
Produces store of reeds. No other plant,<br/>
Cover’d with leaves, or harden’d in its stalk,<br/>
There lives, not bending to the water’s sway.<br/>
After, this way return not; but the sun<br/>
Will show you, that now rises, where to take<br/>
The mountain in its easiest ascent.”<br/>
<br/>
He disappear’d; and I myself uprais’d<br/>
Speechless, and to my guide retiring close,<br/>
Toward him turn’d mine eyes. He thus began;<br/>
“My son! observant thou my steps pursue.<br/>
We must retreat to rearward, for that way<br/>
The champain to its low extreme declines.”<br/>
<br/>
The dawn had chas’d the matin hour of prime,<br/>
Which deaf before it, so that from afar<br/>
I spy’d the trembling of the ocean stream.<br/>
<br/>
We travers’d the deserted plain, as one<br/>
Who, wander’d from his track, thinks every step<br/>
Trodden in vain till he regain the path.<br/>
<br/>
When we had come, where yet the tender dew<br/>
Strove with the sun, and in a place, where fresh<br/>
The wind breath’d o’er it, while it slowly dried;<br/>
Both hands extended on the watery grass<br/>
My master plac’d, in graceful act and kind.<br/>
Whence I of his intent before appriz’d,<br/>
Stretch’d out to him my cheeks suffus’d with tears.<br/>
There to my visage he anew restor’d<br/>
That hue, which the dun shades of hell conceal’d.<br/>
<br/>
Then on the solitary shore arriv’d,<br/>
That never sailing on its waters saw<br/>
Man, that could after measure back his course,<br/>
He girt me in such manner as had pleas’d<br/>
Him who instructed, and O, strange to tell!<br/>
As he selected every humble plant,<br/>
Wherever one was pluck’d, another there<br/>
Resembling, straightway in its place arose.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.2"></a>CANTO II</h2>

<p>
Now had the sun to that horizon reach’d,<br/>
That covers, with the most exalted point<br/>
Of its meridian circle, Salem’s walls,<br/>
And night, that opposite to him her orb<br/>
Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth,<br/>
Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp’d<br/>
When she reigns highest: so that where I was,<br/>
Aurora’s white and vermeil-tinctur’d cheek<br/>
To orange turn’d as she in age increas’d.<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile we linger’d by the water’s brink,<br/>
Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought<br/>
Journey, while motionless the body rests.<br/>
When lo! as near upon the hour of dawn,<br/>
Through the thick vapours Mars with fiery beam<br/>
Glares down in west, over the ocean floor;<br/>
So seem’d, what once again I hope to view,<br/>
A light so swiftly coming through the sea,<br/>
No winged course might equal its career.<br/>
From which when for a space I had withdrawn<br/>
Thine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide,<br/>
Again I look’d and saw it grown in size<br/>
And brightness: thou on either side appear’d<br/>
Something, but what I knew not of bright hue,<br/>
And by degrees from underneath it came<br/>
Another. My preceptor silent yet<br/>
Stood, while the brightness, that we first discern’d,<br/>
Open’d the form of wings: then when he knew<br/>
The pilot, cried aloud, “Down, down; bend low<br/>
Thy knees; behold God’s angel: fold thy hands:<br/>
Now shalt thou see true Ministers indeed.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/02-27.jpg">
<img src="images/02-27.jpg" width="550" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Lo how all human means he sets at naught!<br/>
So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail<br/>
Except his wings, between such distant shores.<br/>
Lo how straight up to heaven he holds them rear’d,<br/>
Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes,<br/>
That not like mortal hairs fall off or change!”<br/>
<br/>
As more and more toward us came, more bright<br/>
Appear’d the bird of God, nor could the eye<br/>
Endure his splendor near: I mine bent down.<br/>
He drove ashore in a small bark so swift<br/>
And light, that in its course no wave it drank.<br/>
The heav’nly steersman at the prow was seen,<br/>
Visibly written blessed in his looks.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/02-42.jpg">
<img src="images/02-42.jpg" width="538" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Within a hundred spirits and more there sat.<br/>
“In Exitu Israel de Aegypto;”<br/>
All with one voice together sang, with what<br/>
In the remainder of that hymn is writ.<br/>
Then soon as with the sign of holy cross<br/>
He bless’d them, they at once leap’d out on land,<br/>
The swiftly as he came return’d. The crew,<br/>
There left, appear’d astounded with the place,<br/>
Gazing around as one who sees new sights.<br/>
<br/>
From every side the sun darted his beams,<br/>
And with his arrowy radiance from mid heav’n<br/>
Had chas’d the Capricorn, when that strange tribe<br/>
Lifting their eyes towards us: “If ye know,<br/>
Declare what path will Lead us to the mount.”<br/>
<br/>
Them Virgil answer’d. “Ye suppose perchance<br/>
Us well acquainted with this place: but here,<br/>
We, as yourselves, are strangers. Not long erst<br/>
We came, before you but a little space,<br/>
By other road so rough and hard, that now<br/>
The’ ascent will seem to us as play.” The spirits,<br/>
Who from my breathing had perceiv’d I liv’d,<br/>
Grew pale with wonder. As the multitude<br/>
Flock round a herald, sent with olive branch,<br/>
To hear what news he brings, and in their haste<br/>
Tread one another down, e’en so at sight<br/>
Of me those happy spirits were fix’d, each one<br/>
Forgetful of its errand, to depart,<br/>
Where cleans’d from sin, it might be made all fair.<br/>
<br/>
Then one I saw darting before the rest<br/>
With such fond ardour to embrace me, I<br/>
To do the like was mov’d. O shadows vain<br/>
Except in outward semblance! thrice my hands<br/>
I clasp’d behind it, they as oft return’d<br/>
Empty into my breast again. Surprise<br/>
I needs must think was painted in my looks,<br/>
For that the shadow smil’d and backward drew.<br/>
To follow it I hasten’d, but with voice<br/>
Of sweetness it enjoin’d me to desist.<br/>
Then who it was I knew, and pray’d of it,<br/>
To talk with me, it would a little pause.<br/>
It answered: “Thee as in my mortal frame<br/>
I lov’d, so loos’d forth it I love thee still,<br/>
And therefore pause; but why walkest thou here?”<br/>
<br/>
“Not without purpose once more to return,<br/>
Thou find’st me, my Casella, where I am<br/>
Journeying this way;” I said, “but how of thee<br/>
Hath so much time been lost?” He answer’d straight:<br/>
“No outrage hath been done to me, if he<br/>
Who when and whom he chooses takes, me oft<br/>
This passage hath denied, since of just will<br/>
His will he makes. These three months past indeed,<br/>
He, whose chose to enter, with free leave<br/>
Hath taken; whence I wand’ring by the shore<br/>
Where Tyber’s wave grows salt, of him gain’d kind<br/>
Admittance, at that river’s mouth, tow’rd which<br/>
His wings are pointed, for there always throng<br/>
All such as not to Archeron descend.”<br/>
<br/>
Then I: “If new laws have not quite destroy’d<br/>
Memory and use of that sweet song of love,<br/>
That while all my cares had power to ’swage;<br/>
Please thee with it a little to console<br/>
My spirit, that incumber’d with its frame,<br/>
Travelling so far, of pain is overcome.”<br/>
<br/>
“Love that discourses in my thoughts.” He then<br/>
Began in such soft accents, that within<br/>
The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide<br/>
And all who came with him, so well were pleas’d,<br/>
That seem’d naught else might in their thoughts have room.<br/>
<br/>
Fast fix’d in mute attention to his notes<br/>
We stood, when lo! that old man venerable<br/>
Exclaiming, “How is this, ye tardy spirits?<br/>
What negligence detains you loit’ring here?<br/>
Run to the mountain to cast off those scales,<br/>
That from your eyes the sight of God conceal.”<br/>
<br/>
As a wild flock of pigeons, to their food<br/>
Collected, blade or tares, without their pride<br/>
Accustom’d, and in still and quiet sort,<br/>
If aught alarm them, suddenly desert<br/>
Their meal, assail’d by more important care;<br/>
So I that new-come troop beheld, the song<br/>
Deserting, hasten to the mountain’s side,<br/>
As one who goes yet where he tends knows not.<br/>
<br/>
Nor with less hurried step did we depart.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.3"></a>CANTO III</h2>

<p>
Them sudden flight had scatter’d over the plain,<br/>
Turn’d tow’rds the mountain, whither reason’s voice<br/>
Drives us; I to my faithful company<br/>
Adhering, left it not. For how of him<br/>
Depriv’d, might I have sped, or who beside<br/>
Would o’er the mountainous tract have led my steps<br/>
He with the bitter pang of self-remorse<br/>
Seem’d smitten. O clear conscience and upright<br/>
How doth a little fling wound thee sore!<br/>
<br/>
Soon as his feet desisted (slack’ning pace),<br/>
From haste, that mars all decency of act,<br/>
My mind, that in itself before was wrapt,<br/>
Its thoughts expanded, as with joy restor’d:<br/>
And full against the steep ascent I set<br/>
My face, where highest to heav’n its top o’erflows.<br/>
<br/>
The sun, that flar’d behind, with ruddy beam<br/>
Before my form was broken; for in me<br/>
His rays resistance met. I turn’d aside<br/>
With fear of being left, when I beheld<br/>
Only before myself the ground obscur’d.<br/>
When thus my solace, turning him around,<br/>
Bespake me kindly: “Why distrustest thou?<br/>
Believ’st not I am with thee, thy sure guide?<br/>
It now is evening there, where buried lies<br/>
The body, in which I cast a shade, remov’d<br/>
To Naples from Brundusium’s wall. Nor thou<br/>
Marvel, if before me no shadow fall,<br/>
More than that in the sky element<br/>
One ray obstructs not other. To endure<br/>
Torments of heat and cold extreme, like frames<br/>
That virtue hath dispos’d, which how it works<br/>
Wills not to us should be reveal’d. Insane<br/>
Who hopes, our reason may that space explore,<br/>
Which holds three persons in one substance knit.<br/>
Seek not the wherefore, race of human kind;<br/>
Could ye have seen the whole, no need had been<br/>
For Mary to bring forth. Moreover ye<br/>
Have seen such men desiring fruitlessly;<br/>
To whose desires repose would have been giv’n,<br/>
That now but serve them for eternal grief.<br/>
I speak of Plato, and the Stagyrite,<br/>
And others many more.” And then he bent<br/>
Downwards his forehead, and in troubled mood<br/>
Broke off his speech. Meanwhile we had arriv’d<br/>
Far as the mountain’s foot, and there the rock<br/>
Found of so steep ascent, that nimblest steps<br/>
To climb it had been vain. The most remote<br/>
Most wild untrodden path, in all the tract<br/>
’Twixt Lerice and Turbia were to this<br/>
A ladder easy’ and open of access.<br/>
<br/>
“Who knows on which hand now the steep declines?”<br/>
My master said and paus’d, “so that he may<br/>
Ascend, who journeys without aid of wine?”<br/>
And while with looks directed to the ground<br/>
The meaning of the pathway he explor’d,<br/>
And I gaz’d upward round the stony height,<br/>
Of spirits, that toward us mov’d their steps,<br/>
Yet moving seem’d not, they so slow approach’d.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/03-50.jpg">
<img src="images/03-50.jpg" width="540" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
I thus my guide address’d: “Upraise thine eyes,<br/>
Lo that way some, of whom thou may’st obtain<br/>
Counsel, if of thyself thou find’st it not!”<br/>
<br/>
Straightway he look’d, and with free speech replied:<br/>
“Let us tend thither: they but softly come.<br/>
And thou be firm in hope, my son belov’d.”<br/>
<br/>
Now was that people distant far in space<br/>
A thousand paces behind ours, as much<br/>
As at a throw the nervous arm could fling,<br/>
When all drew backward on the messy crags<br/>
Of the steep bank, and firmly stood unmov’d<br/>
As one who walks in doubt might stand to look.<br/>
<br/>
“O spirits perfect! O already chosen!”<br/>
Virgil to them began, “by that blest peace,<br/>
Which, as I deem, is for you all prepar’d,<br/>
Instruct us where the mountain low declines,<br/>
So that attempt to mount it be not vain.<br/>
For who knows most, him loss of time most grieves.”<br/>
<br/>
As sheep, that step from forth their fold, by one,<br/>
Or pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest<br/>
Stand fearfully, bending the eye and nose<br/>
To ground, and what the foremost does, that do<br/>
The others, gath’ring round her, if she stops,<br/>
Simple and quiet, nor the cause discern;<br/>
So saw I moving to advance the first,<br/>
Who of that fortunate crew were at the head,<br/>
Of modest mien and graceful in their gait.<br/>
When they before me had beheld the light<br/>
From my right side fall broken on the ground,<br/>
So that the shadow reach’d the cave, they stopp’d<br/>
And somewhat back retir’d: the same did all,<br/>
Who follow’d, though unweeting of the cause.<br/>
<br/>
“Unask’d of you, yet freely I confess,<br/>
This is a human body which ye see.<br/>
That the sun’s light is broken on the ground,<br/>
Marvel not: but believe, that not without<br/>
Virtue deriv’d from Heaven, we to climb<br/>
Over this wall aspire.” So them bespake<br/>
My master; and that virtuous tribe rejoin’d;<br/>
“Turn, and before you there the entrance lies,”<br/>
Making a signal to us with bent hands.<br/>
<br/>
Then of them one began. “Whoe’er thou art,<br/>
Who journey’st thus this way, thy visage turn,<br/>
Think if me elsewhere thou hast ever seen.”<br/>
<br/>
I tow’rds him turn’d, and with fix’d eye beheld.<br/>
Comely, and fair, and gentle of aspect,<br/>
He seem’d, but on one brow a gash was mark’d.<br/>
<br/>
When humbly I disclaim’d to have beheld<br/>
Him ever: “Now behold!” he said, and show’d<br/>
High on his breast a wound: then smiling spake.<br/>
<br/>
“I am Manfredi, grandson to the Queen<br/>
Costanza: whence I pray thee, when return’d,<br/>
To my fair daughter go, the parent glad<br/>
Of Aragonia and Sicilia’s pride;<br/>
And of the truth inform her, if of me<br/>
Aught else be told. When by two mortal blows<br/>
My frame was shatter’d, I betook myself<br/>
Weeping to him, who of free will forgives.<br/>
My sins were horrible; but so wide arms<br/>
Hath goodness infinite, that it receives<br/>
All who turn to it. Had this text divine<br/>
Been of Cosenza’s shepherd better scann’d,<br/>
Who then by Clement on my hunt was set,<br/>
Yet at the bridge’s head my bones had lain,<br/>
Near Benevento, by the heavy mole<br/>
Protected; but the rain now drenches them,<br/>
And the wind drives, out of the kingdom’s bounds,<br/>
Far as the stream of Verde, where, with lights<br/>
Extinguish’d, he remov’d them from their bed.<br/>
Yet by their curse we are not so destroy’d,<br/>
But that the eternal love may turn, while hope<br/>
Retains her verdant blossoms. True it is,<br/>
That such one as in contumacy dies<br/>
Against the holy church, though he repent,<br/>
Must wander thirty-fold for all the time<br/>
In his presumption past; if such decree<br/>
Be not by prayers of good men shorter made<br/>
Look therefore if thou canst advance my bliss;<br/>
Revealing to my good Costanza, how<br/>
Thou hast beheld me, and beside the terms<br/>
Laid on me of that interdict; for here<br/>
By means of those below much profit comes.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.4"></a>CANTO IV</h2>

<p>
When by sensations of delight or pain,<br/>
That any of our faculties hath seiz’d,<br/>
Entire the soul collects herself, it seems<br/>
She is intent upon that power alone,<br/>
And thus the error is disprov’d which holds<br/>
The soul not singly lighted in the breast.<br/>
And therefore when as aught is heard or seen,<br/>
That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn’d,<br/>
Time passes, and a man perceives it not.<br/>
For that, whereby he hearken, is one power,<br/>
Another that, which the whole spirit hash;<br/>
This is as it were bound, while that is free.<br/>
<br/>
This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit<br/>
And wond’ring; for full fifty steps aloft<br/>
The sun had measur’d unobserv’d of me,<br/>
When we arriv’d where all with one accord<br/>
The spirits shouted, “Here is what ye ask.”<br/>
<br/>
A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp’d<br/>
With forked stake of thorn by villager,<br/>
When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,<br/>
By which my guide, and I behind him close,<br/>
Ascended solitary, when that troop<br/>
Departing left us. On Sanleo’s road<br/>
Who journeys, or to Noli low descends,<br/>
Or mounts Bismantua’s height, must use his feet;<br/>
But here a man had need to fly, I mean<br/>
With the swift wing and plumes of high desire,<br/>
Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope,<br/>
And with light furnish’d to direct my way.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/04-31.jpg">
<img src="images/04-31.jpg" width="547" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
We through the broken rock ascended, close<br/>
Pent on each side, while underneath the ground<br/>
Ask’d help of hands and feet. When we arriv’d<br/>
Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank,<br/>
Where the plain level open’d I exclaim’d,<br/>
“O master! say which way can we proceed?”<br/>
<br/>
He answer’d, “Let no step of thine recede.<br/>
Behind me gain the mountain, till to us<br/>
Some practis’d guide appear.” That eminence<br/>
Was lofty that no eye might reach its point,<br/>
And the side proudly rising, more than line<br/>
From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.<br/>
I wearied thus began: “Parent belov’d!<br/>
Turn, and behold how I remain alone,<br/>
If thou stay not.”&mdash;“My son!” He straight reply’d,<br/>
“Thus far put forth thy strength;” and to a track<br/>
Pointed, that, on this side projecting, round<br/>
Circles the hill. His words so spurr’d me on,<br/>
That I behind him clamb’ring, forc’d myself,<br/>
Till my feet press’d the circuit plain beneath.<br/>
There both together seated, turn’d we round<br/>
To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft<br/>
Many beside have with delight look’d back.<br/>
<br/>
First on the nether shores I turn’d my eyes,<br/>
Then rais’d them to the sun, and wond’ring mark’d<br/>
That from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv’d<br/>
That Poet sage now at the car of light<br/>
Amaz’d I stood, where ’twixt us and the north<br/>
Its course it enter’d. Whence he thus to me:<br/>
“Were Leda’s offspring now in company<br/>
Of that broad mirror, that high up and low<br/>
Imparts his light beneath, thou might’st behold<br/>
The ruddy zodiac nearer to the bears<br/>
Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.<br/>
How that may be if thou would’st think; within<br/>
Pond’ring, imagine Sion with this mount<br/>
Plac’d on the earth, so that to both be one<br/>
Horizon, and two hemispheres apart,<br/>
Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knew<br/>
To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see<br/>
How of necessity by this on one<br/>
He passes, while by that on the’ other side,<br/>
If with clear view shine intellect attend.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of truth, kind teacher!” I exclaim’d, “so clear<br/>
Aught saw I never, as I now discern<br/>
Where seem’d my ken to fail, that the mid orb<br/>
Of the supernal motion (which in terms<br/>
Of art is called the Equator, and remains<br/>
Ever between the sun and winter) for the cause<br/>
Thou hast assign’d, from hence toward the north<br/>
Departs, when those who in the Hebrew land<br/>
Inhabit, see it tow’rds the warmer part.<br/>
But if it please thee, I would gladly know,<br/>
How far we have to journey: for the hill<br/>
Mounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount.”<br/>
<br/>
He thus to me: “Such is this steep ascent,<br/>
That it is ever difficult at first,<br/>
But, more a man proceeds, less evil grows.<br/>
When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much<br/>
That upward going shall be easy to thee.<br/>
As in a vessel to go down the tide,<br/>
Then of this path thou wilt have reach’d the end.<br/>
There hope to rest thee from thy toil. No more<br/>
I answer, and thus far for certain know.”<br/>
As he his words had spoken, near to us<br/>
A voice there sounded: “Yet ye first perchance<br/>
May to repose you by constraint be led.”<br/>
At sound thereof each turn’d, and on the left<br/>
A huge stone we beheld, of which nor I<br/>
Nor he before was ware. Thither we drew,<br/>
find there were some, who in the shady place<br/>
Behind the rock were standing, as a man<br/>
Thru’ idleness might stand. Among them one,<br/>
Who seem’d to me much wearied, sat him down,<br/>
And with his arms did fold his knees about,<br/>
Holding his face between them downward bent.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/04-100.jpg">
<img src="images/04-100.jpg" width="472" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Sweet Sir!” I cry’d, “behold that man, who shows<br/>
Himself more idle, than if laziness<br/>
Were sister to him.” Straight he turn’d to us,<br/>
And, o’er the thigh lifting his face, observ’d,<br/>
Then in these accents spake: “Up then, proceed<br/>
Thou valiant one.” Straight who it was I knew;<br/>
Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath<br/>
Still somewhat urg’d me) hinder my approach.<br/>
And when I came to him, he scarce his head<br/>
Uplifted, saying “Well hast thou discern’d,<br/>
How from the left the sun his chariot leads.”<br/>
<br/>
His lazy acts and broken words my lips<br/>
To laughter somewhat mov’d; when I began:<br/>
“Belacqua, now for thee I grieve no more.<br/>
But tell, why thou art seated upright there?<br/>
Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?<br/>
Or blame I only shine accustom’d ways?”<br/>
Then he: “My brother, of what use to mount,<br/>
When to my suffering would not let me pass<br/>
The bird of God, who at the portal sits?<br/>
Behooves so long that heav’n first bear me round<br/>
Without its limits, as in life it bore,<br/>
Because I to the end repentant Sighs<br/>
Delay’d, if prayer do not aid me first,<br/>
That riseth up from heart which lives in grace.<br/>
What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?”<br/>
<br/>
Before me now the Poet up the mount<br/>
Ascending, cried: “Haste thee, for see the sun<br/>
Has touch’d the point meridian, and the night<br/>
Now covers with her foot Marocco’s shore.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.5"></a>CANTO V</h2>

<p>
Now had I left those spirits, and pursued<br/>
The steps of my Conductor, when beheld<br/>
Pointing the finger at me one exclaim’d:<br/>
“See how it seems as if the light not shone<br/>
From the left hand of him beneath, and he,<br/>
As living, seems to be led on.” Mine eyes<br/>
I at that sound reverting, saw them gaze<br/>
Through wonder first at me, and then at me<br/>
And the light broken underneath, by turns.<br/>
“Why are thy thoughts thus riveted?” my guide<br/>
Exclaim’d, “that thou hast slack’d thy pace? or how<br/>
Imports it thee, what thing is whisper’d here?<br/>
Come after me, and to their babblings leave<br/>
The crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set,<br/>
Shakes not its top for any blast that blows!<br/>
He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out,<br/>
Still of his aim is wide, in that the one<br/>
Sicklies and wastes to nought the other’s strength.”<br/>
What other could I answer save “I come?”<br/>
I said it, somewhat with that colour ting’d<br/>
Which ofttimes pardon meriteth for man.<br/>
Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came,<br/>
A little way before us, some who sang<br/>
The “Miserere” in responsive Strains.<br/>
When they perceiv’d that through my body I<br/>
Gave way not for the rays to pass, their song<br/>
Straight to a long and hoarse exclaim they chang’d;<br/>
And two of them, in guise of messengers,<br/>
Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask’d:<br/>
“Of your condition we would gladly learn.”<br/>
To them my guide. “Ye may return, and bear<br/>
Tidings to them who sent you, that his frame<br/>
Is real flesh. If, as I deem, to view<br/>
His shade they paus’d, enough is answer’d them.<br/>
Him let them honour, they may prize him well.”<br/>
Ne’er saw I fiery vapours with such speed<br/>
Cut through the serene air at fall of night,<br/>
Nor August’s clouds athwart the setting sun,<br/>
That upward these did not in shorter space<br/>
Return; and, there arriving, with the rest<br/>
Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/05-42.jpg">
<img src="images/05-42.jpg" width="539" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Many,” exclaim’d the bard, “are these, who throng<br/>
Around us: to petition thee they come.<br/>
Go therefore on, and listen as thou go’st.”<br/>
“O spirit! who go’st on to blessedness<br/>
With the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth.”<br/>
Shouting they came, “a little rest thy step.<br/>
Look if thou any one amongst our tribe<br/>
Hast e’er beheld, that tidings of him there<br/>
Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go’st thou on?<br/>
Ah wherefore tarriest thou not? We all<br/>
By violence died, and to our latest hour<br/>
Were sinners, but then warn’d by light from heav’n,<br/>
So that, repenting and forgiving, we<br/>
Did issue out of life at peace with God,<br/>
Who with desire to see him fills our heart.”<br/>
Then I: “The visages of all I scan<br/>
Yet none of ye remember. But if aught,<br/>
That I can do, may please you, gentle spirits!<br/>
Speak; and I will perform it, by that peace,<br/>
Which on the steps of guide so excellent<br/>
Following from world to world intent I seek.”<br/>
In answer he began: “None here distrusts<br/>
Thy kindness, though not promis’d with an oath;<br/>
So as the will fail not for want of power.<br/>
Whence I, who sole before the others speak,<br/>
Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land,<br/>
Which lies between Romagna and the realm<br/>
Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray<br/>
Those who inhabit Fano, that for me<br/>
Their adorations duly be put up,<br/>
By which I may purge off my grievous sins.<br/>
From thence I came. But the deep passages,<br/>
Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt,<br/>
Upon my bosom in Antenor’s land<br/>
Were made, where to be more secure I thought.<br/>
The author of the deed was Este’s prince,<br/>
Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrath<br/>
Pursued me. Had I towards Mira fled,<br/>
When overta’en at Oriaco, still<br/>
Might I have breath’d. But to the marsh I sped,<br/>
And in the mire and rushes tangled there<br/>
Fell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain.”<br/>
Then said another: “Ah! so may the wish,<br/>
That takes thee o’er the mountain, be fulfill’d,<br/>
As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.<br/>
Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I:<br/>
Giovanna nor none else have care for me,<br/>
Sorrowing with these I therefore go.” I thus:<br/>
“From Campaldino’s field what force or chance<br/>
Drew thee, that ne’er thy sepulture was known?”<br/>
“Oh!” answer’d he, “at Casentino’s foot<br/>
A stream there courseth, nam’d Archiano, sprung<br/>
In Apennine above the Hermit’s seat.<br/>
E’en where its name is cancel’d, there came I,<br/>
Pierc’d in the heart, fleeing away on foot,<br/>
And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech<br/>
Fail’d me, and finishing with Mary’s name<br/>
I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain’d.<br/>
I will report the truth; which thou again<br/>
Tell to the living. Me God’s angel took,<br/>
Whilst he of hell exclaim’d: “O thou from heav’n!<br/>
Say wherefore hast thou robb’d me? Thou of him<br/>
Th’ eternal portion bear’st with thee away<br/>
For one poor tear that he deprives me of.<br/>
But of the other, other rule I make.”<br/>
“Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects<br/>
That vapour dank, returning into water,<br/>
Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.<br/>
That evil will, which in his intellect<br/>
Still follows evil, came, and rais’d the wind<br/>
And smoky mist, by virtue of the power<br/>
Given by his nature. Thence the valley, soon<br/>
As day was spent, he cover’d o’er with cloud<br/>
From Pratomagno to the mountain range,<br/>
And stretch’d the sky above, so that the air<br/>
Impregnate chang’d to water. Fell the rain,<br/>
And to the fosses came all that the land<br/>
Contain’d not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,<br/>
To the great river with such headlong sweep<br/>
Rush’d, that nought stay’d its course. My stiffen’d frame<br/>
Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found,<br/>
And dash’d it into Arno, from my breast<br/>
Loos’ning the cross, that of myself I made<br/>
When overcome with pain. He hurl’d me on,<br/>
Along the banks and bottom of his course;<br/>
Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/05-123.jpg">
<img src="images/05-123.jpg" width="473" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return’d,<br/>
And rested after thy long road,” so spake<br/>
Next the third spirit; “then remember me.<br/>
I once was Pia. Sienna gave me life,<br/>
Maremma took it from me. That he knows,<br/>
Who me with jewell’d ring had first espous’d.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/05-130.jpg">
<img src="images/05-130.jpg" width="563" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.6"></a>CANTO VI</h2>

<p>
When from their game of dice men separate,<br/>
He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix’d,<br/>
Revolving in his mind, what luckless throws<br/>
He cast: but meanwhile all the company<br/>
Go with the other; one before him runs,<br/>
And one behind his mantle twitches, one<br/>
Fast by his side bids him remember him.<br/>
He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand<br/>
Is stretch’d, well knows he bids him stand aside;<br/>
And thus he from the press defends himself.<br/>
E’en such was I in that close-crowding throng;<br/>
And turning so my face around to all,<br/>
And promising, I ’scap’d from it with pains.<br/>
Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell<br/>
By Ghino’s cruel arm; and him beside,<br/>
Who in his chase was swallow’d by the stream.<br/>
Here Frederic Novello, with his hand<br/>
Stretch’d forth, entreated; and of Pisa he,<br/>
Who put the good Marzuco to such proof<br/>
Of constancy. Count Orso I beheld;<br/>
And from its frame a soul dismiss’d for spite<br/>
And envy, as it said, but for no crime:<br/>
I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here,<br/>
While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant<br/>
Let her beware; lest for so false a deed<br/>
She herd with worse than these. When I was freed<br/>
From all those spirits, who pray’d for others’ prayers<br/>
To hasten on their state of blessedness;<br/>
Straight I began: “O thou, my luminary!<br/>
It seems expressly in thy text denied,<br/>
That heaven’s supreme decree can never bend<br/>
To supplication; yet with this design<br/>
Do these entreat. Can then their hope be vain,<br/>
Or is thy saying not to me reveal’d?”<br/>
He thus to me: “Both what I write is plain,<br/>
And these deceiv’d not in their hope, if well<br/>
Thy mind consider, that the sacred height<br/>
Of judgment doth not stoop, because love’s flame<br/>
In a short moment all fulfils, which he<br/>
Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy.<br/>
Besides, when I this point concluded thus,<br/>
By praying no defect could be supplied;<br/>
Because the pray’r had none access to God.<br/>
Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not<br/>
Contented unless she assure thee so,<br/>
Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light.<br/>
I know not if thou take me right; I mean<br/>
Beatrice. Her thou shalt behold above,<br/>
Upon this mountain’s crown, fair seat of joy.”<br/>
Then I: “Sir! let us mend our speed; for now<br/>
I tire not as before; and lo! the hill<br/>
Stretches its shadow far.” He answer’d thus:<br/>
“Our progress with this day shall be as much<br/>
As we may now dispatch; but otherwise<br/>
Than thou supposest is the truth. For there<br/>
Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold<br/>
Him back returning, who behind the steep<br/>
Is now so hidden, that as erst his beam<br/>
Thou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there<br/>
Stands solitary, and toward us looks:<br/>
It will instruct us in the speediest way.”<br/>
We soon approach’d it. O thou Lombard spirit!<br/>
How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood,<br/>
Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes!<br/>
It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass,<br/>
Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.<br/>
But Virgil with entreaty mild advanc’d,<br/>
Requesting it to show the best ascent.<br/>
It answer to his question none return’d,<br/>
But of our country and our kind of life<br/>
Demanded. When my courteous guide began,<br/>
“Mantua,” the solitary shadow quick<br/>
Rose towards us from the place in which it stood,<br/>
And cry’d, “Mantuan! I am thy countryman<br/>
Sordello.” Each the other then embrac’d.<br/>
Ah slavish Italy! thou inn of grief,<br/>
Vessel without a pilot in loud storm,<br/>
Lady no longer of fair provinces,<br/>
But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit,<br/>
Ev’n from the Pleasant sound of his dear land<br/>
Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen<br/>
With such glad cheer; while now thy living ones<br/>
In thee abide not without war; and one<br/>
Malicious gnaws another, ay of those<br/>
Whom the same wall and the same moat contains,<br/>
Seek, wretched one! around thy sea-coasts wide;<br/>
Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and mark<br/>
If any part of the sweet peace enjoy.<br/>
What boots it, that thy reins Justinian’s hand<br/>
Befitted, if thy saddle be unpress’d?<br/>
Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame.<br/>
Ah people! thou obedient still shouldst live,<br/>
And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit,<br/>
If well thou marked’st that which God commands.<br/>
Look how that beast to felness hath relaps’d<br/>
From having lost correction of the spur,<br/>
Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand,<br/>
O German Albert! who abandon’st her,<br/>
That is grown savage and unmanageable,<br/>
When thou should’st clasp her flanks with forked heels.<br/>
Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood!<br/>
And be it strange and manifest to all!<br/>
Such as may strike thy successor with dread!<br/>
For that thy sire and thou have suffer’d thus,<br/>
Through greediness of yonder realms detain’d,<br/>
The garden of the empire to run waste.<br/>
Come see the Capulets and Montagues,<br/>
The Philippeschi and Monaldi! man<br/>
Who car’st for nought! those sunk in grief, and these<br/>
With dire suspicion rack’d. Come, cruel one!<br/>
Come and behold the’ oppression of the nobles,<br/>
And mark their injuries: and thou mayst see.<br/>
What safety Santafiore can supply.<br/>
Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee,<br/>
Desolate widow! day and night with moans:<br/>
“My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?”<br/>
Come and behold what love among thy people:<br/>
And if no pity touches thee for us,<br/>
Come and blush for thine own report. For me,<br/>
If it be lawful, O Almighty Power,<br/>
Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified!<br/>
Are thy just eyes turn’d elsewhere? or is this<br/>
A preparation in the wond’rous depth<br/>
Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end,<br/>
Entirely from our reach of thought cut off?<br/>
So are the’ Italian cities all o’erthrong’d<br/>
With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made<br/>
Of every petty factious villager.<br/>
My Florence! thou mayst well remain unmov’d<br/>
At this digression, which affects not thee:<br/>
Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed.<br/>
Many have justice in their heart, that long<br/>
Waiteth for counsel to direct the bow,<br/>
Or ere it dart unto its aim: but shine<br/>
Have it on their lip’s edge. Many refuse<br/>
To bear the common burdens: readier thine<br/>
Answer uneall’d, and cry, “Behold I stoop!”<br/>
Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now,<br/>
Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom-fraught!<br/>
Facts best witness if I speak the truth.<br/>
Athens and Lacedaemon, who of old<br/>
Enacted laws, for civil arts renown’d,<br/>
Made little progress in improving life<br/>
Tow’rds thee, who usest such nice subtlety,<br/>
That to the middle of November scarce<br/>
Reaches the thread thou in October weav’st.<br/>
How many times, within thy memory,<br/>
Customs, and laws, and coins, and offices<br/>
Have been by thee renew’d, and people chang’d!<br/>
If thou remember’st well and can’st see clear,<br/>
Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch,<br/>
Who finds no rest upon her down, but oft<br/>
Shifting her side, short respite seeks from pain.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.7"></a>CANTO VII</h2>

<p>
After their courteous greetings joyfully<br/>
Sev’n times exchang’d, Sordello backward drew<br/>
Exclaiming, “Who are ye?” “Before this mount<br/>
By spirits worthy of ascent to God<br/>
Was sought, my bones had by Octavius’ care<br/>
Been buried. I am Virgil, for no sin<br/>
Depriv’d of heav’n, except for lack of faith.”<br/>
So answer’d him in few my gentle guide.<br/>
As one, who aught before him suddenly<br/>
Beholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries<br/>
“It is yet is not,” wav’ring in belief;<br/>
Such he appear’d; then downward bent his eyes,<br/>
And drawing near with reverential step,<br/>
Caught him, where of mean estate might clasp<br/>
His lord. “Glory of Latium!” he exclaim’d,<br/>
“In whom our tongue its utmost power display’d!<br/>
Boast of my honor’d birth-place! what desert<br/>
Of mine, what favour rather undeserv’d,<br/>
Shows thee to me? If I to hear that voice<br/>
Am worthy, say if from below thou com’st<br/>
And from what cloister’s pale?”&mdash;“Through every orb<br/>
Of that sad region,” he reply’d, “thus far<br/>
Am I arriv’d, by heav’nly influence led<br/>
And with such aid I come. There is a place<br/>
There underneath, not made by torments sad,<br/>
But by dun shades alone; where mourning’s voice<br/>
Sounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/07-21.jpg">
<img src="images/07-21.jpg" width="545" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
There I with little innocents abide,<br/>
Who by death’s fangs were bitten, ere exempt<br/>
From human taint. There I with those abide,<br/>
Who the three holy virtues put not on,<br/>
But understood the rest, and without blame<br/>
Follow’d them all. But if thou know’st and canst,<br/>
Direct us, how we soonest may arrive,<br/>
Where Purgatory its true beginning takes.”<br/>
He answer’d thus: “We have no certain place<br/>
Assign’d us: upwards I may go or round,<br/>
Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide.<br/>
But thou beholdest now how day declines:<br/>
And upwards to proceed by night, our power<br/>
Excels: therefore it may be well to choose<br/>
A place of pleasant sojourn. To the right<br/>
Some spirits sit apart retir’d. If thou<br/>
Consentest, I to these will lead thy steps:<br/>
And thou wilt know them, not without delight.”<br/>
“How chances this?” was answer’d; “who so wish’d<br/>
To ascend by night, would he be thence debarr’d<br/>
By other, or through his own weakness fail?”<br/>
The good Sordello then, along the ground<br/>
Trailing his finger, spoke: “Only this line<br/>
Thou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun<br/>
Hath disappear’d; not that aught else impedes<br/>
Thy going upwards, save the shades of night.<br/>
These with the wont of power perplex the will.<br/>
With them thou haply mightst return beneath,<br/>
Or to and fro around the mountain’s side<br/>
Wander, while day is in the horizon shut.”<br/>
My master straight, as wond’ring at his speech,<br/>
Exclaim’d: “Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst,<br/>
That, while we stay, we may enjoy delight.”<br/>
A little space we were remov’d from thence,<br/>
When I perceiv’d the mountain hollow’d out.<br/>
Ev’n as large valleys hollow’d out on earth,<br/>
“That way,” the’ escorting spirit cried, “we go,<br/>
Where in a bosom the high bank recedes:<br/>
And thou await renewal of the day.”<br/>
Betwixt the steep and plain a crooked path<br/>
Led us traverse into the ridge’s side,<br/>
Where more than half the sloping edge expires.<br/>
Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refin’d,<br/>
And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood<br/>
Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds<br/>
But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers<br/>
Plac’d in that fair recess, in color all<br/>
Had been surpass’d, as great surpasses less.<br/>
Nor nature only there lavish’d her hues,<br/>
But of the sweetness of a thousand smells<br/>
A rare and undistinguish’d fragrance made.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/07-82.jpg">
<img src="images/07-82.jpg" width="545" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Salve Regina,” on the grass and flowers<br/>
Here chanting I beheld those spirits sit<br/>
Who not beyond the valley could be seen.<br/>
“Before the west’ring sun sink to his bed,”<br/>
Began the Mantuan, who our steps had turn’d,<br/>
“’Mid those desires not that I lead ye on.<br/>
For from this eminence ye shall discern<br/>
Better the acts and visages of all,<br/>
Than in the nether vale among them mix’d.<br/>
He, who sits high above the rest, and seems<br/>
To have neglected that he should have done,<br/>
And to the others’ song moves not his lip,<br/>
The Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal’d<br/>
The wounds whereof fair Italy hath died,<br/>
So that by others she revives but slowly,<br/>
He, who with kindly visage comforts him,<br/>
Sway’d in that country, where the water springs,<br/>
That Moldaw’s river to the Elbe, and Elbe<br/>
Rolls to the ocean: Ottocar his name:<br/>
Who in his swaddling clothes was of more worth<br/>
Than Winceslaus his son, a bearded man,<br/>
Pamper’d with rank luxuriousness and ease.<br/>
And that one with the nose depress, who close<br/>
In counsel seems with him of gentle look,<br/>
Flying expir’d, with’ring the lily’s flower.<br/>
Look there how he doth knock against his breast!<br/>
The other ye behold, who for his cheek<br/>
Makes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs.<br/>
They are the father and the father-in-law<br/>
Of Gallia’s bane: his vicious life they know<br/>
And foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus.<br/>
“He, so robust of limb, who measure keeps<br/>
In song, with him of feature prominent,<br/>
With ev’ry virtue bore his girdle brac’d.<br/>
And if that stripling who behinds him sits,<br/>
King after him had liv’d, his virtue then<br/>
From vessel to like vessel had been pour’d;<br/>
Which may not of the other heirs be said.<br/>
By James and Frederick his realms are held;<br/>
Neither the better heritage obtains.<br/>
Rarely into the branches of the tree<br/>
Doth human worth mount up; and so ordains<br/>
He who bestows it, that as his free gift<br/>
It may be call’d. To Charles my words apply<br/>
No less than to his brother in the song;<br/>
Which Pouille and Provence now with grief confess.<br/>
So much that plant degenerates from its seed,<br/>
As more than Beatrice and Margaret<br/>
Costanza still boasts of her valorous spouse.<br/>
“Behold the king of simple life and plain,<br/>
Harry of England, sitting there alone:<br/>
He through his branches better issue spreads.<br/>
“That one, who on the ground beneath the rest<br/>
Sits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft,<br/>
Us William, that brave Marquis, for whose cause<br/>
The deed of Alexandria and his war<br/>
Makes Conferrat and Canavese weep.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.8"></a>CANTO VIII</h2>

<p>
Now was the hour that wakens fond desire<br/>
In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart,<br/>
Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,<br/>
And pilgrim newly on his road with love<br/>
Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far,<br/>
That seems to mourn for the expiring day:<br/>
When I, no longer taking heed to hear<br/>
Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark<br/>
One risen from its seat, which with its hand<br/>
Audience implor’d. Both palms it join’d and rais’d,<br/>
Fixing its steadfast gaze towards the east,<br/>
As telling God, “I care for naught beside.”<br/>
“Te Lucis Ante,” so devoutly then<br/>
Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain,<br/>
That all my sense in ravishment was lost.<br/>
And the rest after, softly and devout,<br/>
Follow’d through all the hymn, with upward gaze<br/>
Directed to the bright supernal wheels.<br/>
Here, reader! for the truth makes thine eyes keen:<br/>
For of so subtle texture is this veil,<br/>
That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark’d.<br/>
I saw that gentle band silently next<br/>
Look up, as if in expectation held,<br/>
Pale and in lowly guise; and from on high<br/>
I saw forth issuing descend beneath<br/>
Two angels with two flame-illumin’d swords,<br/>
Broken and mutilated at their points.<br/>
Green as the tender leaves but newly born,<br/>
Their vesture was, the which by wings as green<br/>
Beaten, they drew behind them, fann’d in air.<br/>
A little over us one took his stand,<br/>
The other lighted on the’ Opposing hill,<br/>
So that the troop were in the midst contain’d.<br/>
Well I descried the whiteness on their heads;<br/>
But in their visages the dazzled eye<br/>
Was lost, as faculty that by too much<br/>
Is overpower’d. “From Mary’s bosom both<br/>
Are come,” exclaim’d Sordello, “as a guard<br/>
Over the vale, ganst him, who hither tends,<br/>
The serpent.” Whence, not knowing by which path<br/>
He came, I turn’d me round, and closely press’d,<br/>
All frozen, to my leader’s trusted side.<br/>
Sordello paus’d not: “To the valley now<br/>
(For it is time) let us descend; and hold<br/>
Converse with those great shadows: haply much<br/>
Their sight may please ye.” Only three steps down<br/>
Methinks I measur’d, ere I was beneath,<br/>
And noted one who look’d as with desire<br/>
To know me. Time was now that air arrow dim;<br/>
Yet not so dim, that ’twixt his eyes and mine<br/>
It clear’d not up what was conceal’d before.<br/>
Mutually tow’rds each other we advanc’d.<br/>
Nino, thou courteous judge! what joy I felt,<br/>
When I perceiv’d thou wert not with the bad!<br/>
No salutation kind on either part<br/>
Was left unsaid. He then inquir’d: “How long<br/>
Since thou arrived’st at the mountain’s foot,<br/>
Over the distant waves?”&mdash;“O!” answer’d I,<br/>
“Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came,<br/>
And still in my first life, thus journeying on,<br/>
The other strive to gain.” Soon as they heard<br/>
My words, he and Sordello backward drew,<br/>
As suddenly amaz’d. To Virgil one,<br/>
The other to a spirit turn’d, who near<br/>
Was seated, crying: “Conrad! up with speed:<br/>
Come, see what of his grace high God hath will’d.”<br/>
Then turning round to me: “By that rare mark<br/>
Of honour which thou ow’st to him, who hides<br/>
So deeply his first cause, it hath no ford,<br/>
When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves.<br/>
Tell my Giovanna, that for me she call<br/>
There, where reply to innocence is made.<br/>
Her mother, I believe, loves me no more;<br/>
Since she has chang’d the white and wimpled folds,<br/>
Which she is doom’d once more with grief to wish.<br/>
By her it easily may be perceiv’d,<br/>
How long in women lasts the flame of love,<br/>
If sight and touch do not relume it oft.<br/>
For her so fair a burial will not make<br/>
The viper which calls Milan to the field,<br/>
As had been made by shrill Gallura’s bird.”<br/>
He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp<br/>
Of that right seal, which with due temperature<br/>
Glows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes<br/>
Meanwhile to heav’n had travel’d, even there<br/>
Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel<br/>
Nearest the axle; when my guide inquir’d:<br/>
“What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?”<br/>
I answer’d: “The three torches, with which here<br/>
The pole is all on fire.” He then to me:<br/>
“The four resplendent stars, thou saw’st this morn<br/>
Are there beneath, and these ris’n in their stead.”<br/>
While yet he spoke. Sordello to himself<br/>
Drew him, and cry’d: “Lo there our enemy!”<br/>
And with his hand pointed that way to look.<br/>
Along the side, where barrier none arose<br/>
Around the little vale, a serpent lay,<br/>
Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food.<br/>
Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake<br/>
Came on, reverting oft his lifted head;<br/>
And, as a beast that smoothes its polish’d coat,<br/>
Licking his hack. I saw not, nor can tell,<br/>
How those celestial falcons from their seat<br/>
Mov’d, but in motion each one well descried,<br/>
Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes.<br/>
The serpent fled; and to their stations back<br/>
The angels up return’d with equal flight.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/08-00.jpg">
<img src="images/08-00.jpg" width="543" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
The Spirit (who to Nino, when he call’d,<br/>
Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken,<br/>
Through all that conflict, loosen’d not his sight.<br/>
“So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high,<br/>
Find, in thy destin’d lot, of wax so much,<br/>
As may suffice thee to the enamel’s height.”<br/>
It thus began: “If any certain news<br/>
Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part<br/>
Thou know’st, tell me, who once was mighty there<br/>
They call’d me Conrad Malaspina, not<br/>
That old one, but from him I sprang. The love<br/>
I bore my people is now here refin’d.”<br/>
“In your dominions,” I answer’d, “ne’er was I.<br/>
But through all Europe where do those men dwell,<br/>
To whom their glory is not manifest?<br/>
The fame, that honours your illustrious house,<br/>
Proclaims the nobles and proclaims the land;<br/>
So that he knows it who was never there.<br/>
I swear to you, so may my upward route<br/>
Prosper! your honour’d nation not impairs<br/>
The value of her coffer and her sword.<br/>
Nature and use give her such privilege,<br/>
That while the world is twisted from his course<br/>
By a bad head, she only walks aright,<br/>
And has the evil way in scorn.” He then:<br/>
“Now pass thee on: sev’n times the tired sun<br/>
Revisits not the couch, which with four feet<br/>
The forked Aries covers, ere that kind<br/>
Opinion shall be nail’d into thy brain<br/>
With stronger nails than other’s speech can drive,<br/>
If the sure course of judgment be not stay’d.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.9"></a>CANTO IX</h2>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/09-1.jpg">
<img src="images/09-1.jpg" width="561" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Now the fair consort of Tithonus old,<br/>
Arisen from her mate’s beloved arms,<br/>
Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff: her brow,<br/>
Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in sign<br/>
Of that chill animal, who with his train<br/>
Smites fearful nations: and where then we were,<br/>
Two steps of her ascent the night had past,<br/>
And now the third was closing up its wing,<br/>
When I, who had so much of Adam with me,<br/>
Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep,<br/>
There where all five were seated. In that hour,<br/>
When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,<br/>
Rememb’ring haply ancient grief, renews,<br/>
And with our minds more wand’rers from the flesh,<br/>
And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, full<br/>
Of holy divination in their dreams,<br/>
Then in a vision did I seem to view<br/>
A golden-feather’d eagle in the sky,<br/>
With open wings, and hov’ring for descent,<br/>
And I was in that place, methought, from whence<br/>
Young Ganymede, from his associates ’reft,<br/>
Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory.<br/>
“Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here alone<br/>
He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains<br/>
To pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d,<br/>
A little wheeling in his airy tour<br/>
Terrible as the lightning rush’d he down,<br/>
And snatch’d me upward even to the fire.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/09-29.jpg">
<img src="images/09-29.jpg" width="551" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
There both, I thought, the eagle and myself<br/>
Did burn; and so intense th’ imagin’d flames,<br/>
That needs my sleep was broken off. As erst<br/>
Achilles shook himself, and round him roll’d<br/>
His waken’d eyeballs wond’ring where he was,<br/>
Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled<br/>
To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;<br/>
E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my face<br/>
The slumber parted, turning deadly pale,<br/>
Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my side<br/>
My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now<br/>
More than two hours aloft: and to the sea<br/>
My looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried,<br/>
“Assur’d we are at happy point. Thy strength<br/>
Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come<br/>
To Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff<br/>
That circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there,<br/>
Where it doth seem disparted! Ere the dawn<br/>
Usher’d the daylight, when thy wearied soul<br/>
Slept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneath<br/>
A lady came, and thus bespake me: I<br/>
Am Lucia. Suffer me to take this man,<br/>
Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.”<br/>
Sordello and the other gentle shapes<br/>
Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,<br/>
This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps.<br/>
Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyes<br/>
That open entrance show’d me; then at once<br/>
She vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubts<br/>
Are chas’d by certainty, and terror turn’d<br/>
To comfort on discovery of the truth,<br/>
Such was the change in me: and as my guide<br/>
Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff<br/>
He mov’d, and I behind him, towards the height.<br/>
Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,<br/>
Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully<br/>
I prop the structure! Nearer now we drew,<br/>
Arriv’d’ whence in that part, where first a breach<br/>
As of a wall appear’d, I could descry<br/>
A portal, and three steps beneath, that led<br/>
For inlet there, of different colour each,<br/>
And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word.<br/>
As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,<br/>
I mark’d him seated on the highest step,<br/>
In visage such, as past my power to bear.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/09-74.jpg">
<img src="images/09-74.jpg" width="476" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Grasp’d in his hand a naked sword, glanc’d back<br/>
The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain<br/>
My sight directed. “Speak from whence ye stand:”<br/>
He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort?<br/>
Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.”<br/>
“A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,”<br/>
Replied the’ instructor, “told us, even now,<br/>
‘Pass that way: here the gate is.”&mdash;“And may she<br/>
Befriending prosper your ascent,” resum’d<br/>
The courteous keeper of the gate: “Come then<br/>
Before our steps.” We straightway thither came.<br/>
The lowest stair was marble white so smooth<br/>
And polish’d, that therein my mirror’d form<br/>
Distinct I saw. The next of hue more dark<br/>
Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,<br/>
Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that lay<br/>
Massy above, seem’d porphyry, that flam’d<br/>
Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein.<br/>
On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,<br/>
Upon the threshold seated, which appear’d<br/>
A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps<br/>
My leader cheerily drew me. “Ask,” said he,<br/>
“With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.”<br/>
Piously at his holy feet devolv’d<br/>
I cast me, praying him for pity’s sake<br/>
That he would open to me: but first fell<br/>
Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times<br/>
The letter, that denotes the inward stain,<br/>
He on my forehead with the blunted point<br/>
Of his drawn sword inscrib’d. And “Look,” he cried,<br/>
“When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.”<br/>
Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground,<br/>
Were of one colour with the robe he wore.<br/>
From underneath that vestment forth he drew<br/>
Two keys of metal twain: the one was gold,<br/>
Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,<br/>
And next the burnish’d, he so ply’d the gate,<br/>
As to content me well. “Whenever one<br/>
Faileth of these, that in the keyhole straight<br/>
It turn not, to this alley then expect<br/>
Access in vain.” Such were the words he spake.<br/>
“One is more precious: but the other needs<br/>
Skill and sagacity, large share of each,<br/>
Ere its good task to disengage the knot<br/>
Be worthily perform’d. From Peter these<br/>
I hold, of him instructed, that I err<br/>
Rather in opening than in keeping fast;<br/>
So but the suppliant at my feet implore.”<br/>
Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door,<br/>
Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear:<br/>
He forth again departs who looks behind.”<br/>
As in the hinges of that sacred ward<br/>
The swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong,<br/>
Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily<br/>
Roar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereft<br/>
Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss<br/>
To leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d,<br/>
List’ning the thunder, that first issued forth;<br/>
And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heard<br/>
In accents blended with sweet melody.<br/>
The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the sound<br/>
Of choral voices, that in solemn chant<br/>
With organ mingle, and, now high and clear,<br/>
Come swelling, now float indistinct away.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.10"></a>CANTO X</h2>

<p>
When we had passed the threshold of the gate<br/>
(Which the soul’s ill affection doth disuse,<br/>
Making the crooked seem the straighter path),<br/>
I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn’d,<br/>
For that offence what plea might have avail’d?<br/>
We mounted up the riven rock, that wound<br/>
On either side alternate, as the wave<br/>
Flies and advances. “Here some little art<br/>
Behooves us,” said my leader, “that our steps<br/>
Observe the varying flexure of the path.”<br/>
Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb<br/>
The moon once more o’erhangs her wat’ry couch,<br/>
Ere we that strait have threaded. But when free<br/>
We came and open, where the mount above<br/>
One solid mass retires, I spent, with toil,<br/>
And both, uncertain of the way, we stood,<br/>
Upon a plain more lonesome, than the roads<br/>
That traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink<br/>
Borders upon vacuity, to foot<br/>
Of the steep bank, that rises still, the space<br/>
Had measur’d thrice the stature of a man:<br/>
And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight,<br/>
To leftward now and now to right dispatch’d,<br/>
That cornice equal in extent appear’d.<br/>
Not yet our feet had on that summit mov’d,<br/>
When I discover’d that the bank around,<br/>
Whose proud uprising all ascent denied,<br/>
Was marble white, and so exactly wrought<br/>
With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone<br/>
Had Polycletus, but e’en nature’s self<br/>
Been sham’d. The angel who came down to earth<br/>
With tidings of the peace so many years<br/>
Wept for in vain, that op’d the heavenly gates<br/>
From their long interdict before us seem’d,<br/>
In a sweet act, so sculptur’d to the life,<br/>
He look’d no silent image. One had sworn<br/>
He had said, “Hail!” for she was imag’d there,<br/>
By whom the key did open to God’s love,<br/>
And in her act as sensibly impress<br/>
That word, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord,”<br/>
As figure seal’d on wax. “Fix not thy mind<br/>
On one place only,” said the guide belov’d,<br/>
Who had me near him on that part where lies<br/>
The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn’d<br/>
And mark’d, behind the virgin mother’s form,<br/>
Upon that side, where he, that mov’d me, stood,<br/>
Another story graven on the rock.<br/>
I passed athwart the bard, and drew me near,<br/>
That it might stand more aptly for my view.<br/>
There in the self-same marble were engrav’d<br/>
The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,<br/>
That from unbidden office awes mankind.<br/>
Before it came much people; and the whole<br/>
Parted in seven quires. One sense cried, “Nay,”<br/>
Another, “Yes, they sing.” Like doubt arose<br/>
Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl’d fume<br/>
Of incense breathing up the well-wrought toil.<br/>
Preceding the blest vessel, onward came<br/>
With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise,<br/>
Sweet Israel’s harper: in that hap he seem’d<br/>
Less and yet more than kingly. Opposite,<br/>
At a great palace, from the lattice forth<br/>
Look’d Michol, like a lady full of scorn<br/>
And sorrow. To behold the tablet next,<br/>
Which at the hack of Michol whitely shone,<br/>
I mov’d me. There was storied on the rock<br/>
The’ exalted glory of the Roman prince,<br/>
Whose mighty worth mov’d Gregory to earn<br/>
His mighty conquest, Trajan th’ Emperor.<br/>
A widow at his bridle stood, attir’d<br/>
In tears and mourning. Round about them troop’d<br/>
Full throng of knights, and overhead in gold<br/>
The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/10-74.jpg">
<img src="images/10-74.jpg" width="546" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
The wretch appear’d amid all these to say:<br/>
“Grant vengeance, sire! for, woe beshrew this heart<br/>
My son is murder’d.” He replying seem’d;<br/>
“Wait now till I return.” And she, as one<br/>
Made hasty by her grief; “O sire, if thou<br/>
Dost not return?”&mdash;“Where I am, who then is,<br/>
May right thee.”&mdash;“What to thee is other’s good,<br/>
If thou neglect thy own?”&mdash;“Now comfort thee,”<br/>
At length he answers. “It beseemeth well<br/>
My duty be perform’d, ere I move hence:<br/>
So justice wills; and pity bids me stay.”<br/>
He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produc’d<br/>
That visible speaking, new to us and strange<br/>
The like not found on earth. Fondly I gaz’d<br/>
Upon those patterns of meek humbleness,<br/>
Shapes yet more precious for their artist’s sake,<br/>
When “Lo,” the poet whisper’d, “where this way<br/>
(But slack their pace), a multitude advance.<br/>
These to the lofty steps shall guide us on.”<br/>
Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights<br/>
Their lov’d allurement, were not slow to turn.<br/>
Reader! I would not that amaz’d thou miss<br/>
Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God<br/>
Decrees our debts be cancel’d. Ponder not<br/>
The form of suff’ring. Think on what succeeds,<br/>
Think that at worst beyond the mighty doom<br/>
It cannot pass. “Instructor,” I began,<br/>
“What I see hither tending, bears no trace<br/>
Of human semblance, nor of aught beside<br/>
That my foil’d sight can guess.” He answering thus:<br/>
“So courb’d to earth, beneath their heavy teems<br/>
Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first<br/>
Struggled as thine. But look intently thither,<br/>
An disentangle with thy lab’ring view,<br/>
What underneath those stones approacheth: now,<br/>
E’en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each.”<br/>
Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!<br/>
That feeble in the mind’s eye, lean your trust<br/>
Upon unstaid perverseness! Know ye not<br/>
That we are worms, yet made at last to form<br/>
The winged insect, imp’d with angel plumes<br/>
That to heaven’s justice unobstructed soars?<br/>
Why buoy ye up aloft your unfleg’d souls?<br/>
Abortive then and shapeless ye remain,<br/>
Like the untimely embryon of a worm!<br/>
As, to support incumbent floor or roof,<br/>
For corbel is a figure sometimes seen,<br/>
That crumples up its knees unto its breast,<br/>
With the feign’d posture stirring ruth unfeign’d<br/>
In the beholder’s fancy; so I saw<br/>
These fashion’d, when I noted well their guise.<br/>
Each, as his back was laden, came indeed<br/>
Or more or less contract; but it appear’d<br/>
As he, who show’d most patience in his look,<br/>
Wailing exclaim’d: “I can endure no more.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.11"></a>CANTO XI</h2>

<p>
“O thou Almighty Father, who dost make<br/>
The heavens thy dwelling, not in bounds confin’d,<br/>
But that with love intenser there thou view’st<br/>
Thy primal effluence, hallow’d be thy name:<br/>
Join each created being to extol<br/>
Thy might, for worthy humblest thanks and praise<br/>
Is thy blest Spirit. May thy kingdom’s peace<br/>
Come unto us; for we, unless it come,<br/>
With all our striving thither tend in vain.<br/>
As of their will the angels unto thee<br/>
Tender meet sacrifice, circling thy throne<br/>
With loud hosannas, so of theirs be done<br/>
By saintly men on earth. Grant us this day<br/>
Our daily manna, without which he roams<br/>
Through this rough desert retrograde, who most<br/>
Toils to advance his steps. As we to each<br/>
Pardon the evil done us, pardon thou<br/>
Benign, and of our merit take no count.<br/>
’Gainst the old adversary prove thou not<br/>
Our virtue easily subdu’d; but free<br/>
From his incitements and defeat his wiles.<br/>
This last petition, dearest Lord! is made<br/>
Not for ourselves, since that were needless now,<br/>
But for their sakes who after us remain.”<br/>
<br/>
Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring,<br/>
Those spirits went beneath a weight like that<br/>
We sometimes feel in dreams, all, sore beset,<br/>
But with unequal anguish, wearied all,<br/>
Round the first circuit, purging as they go,<br/>
The world’s gross darkness off: In our behalf<br/>
If there vows still be offer’d, what can here<br/>
For them be vow’d and done by such, whose wills<br/>
Have root of goodness in them? Well beseems<br/>
That we should help them wash away the stains<br/>
They carried hence, that so made pure and light,<br/>
They may spring upward to the starry spheres.<br/>
<br/>
“Ah! so may mercy-temper’d justice rid<br/>
Your burdens speedily, that ye have power<br/>
To stretch your wing, which e’en to your desire<br/>
Shall lift you, as ye show us on which hand<br/>
Toward the ladder leads the shortest way.<br/>
And if there be more passages than one,<br/>
Instruct us of that easiest to ascend;<br/>
For this man who comes with me, and bears yet<br/>
The charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,<br/>
Despite his better will but slowly mounts.”<br/>
From whom the answer came unto these words,<br/>
Which my guide spake, appear’d not; but ’twas said.<br/>
<br/>
“Along the bank to rightward come with us,<br/>
And ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil<br/>
Of living man to climb: and were it not<br/>
That I am hinder’d by the rock, wherewith<br/>
This arrogant neck is tam’d, whence needs I stoop<br/>
My visage to the ground, him, who yet lives,<br/>
Whose name thou speak’st not him I fain would view.<br/>
To mark if e’er I knew him? and to crave<br/>
His pity for the fardel that I bear.<br/>
I was of Latiun, of a Tuscan horn<br/>
A mighty one: Aldobranlesco’s name<br/>
My sire’s, I know not if ye e’er have heard.<br/>
My old blood and forefathers’ gallant deeds<br/>
Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot<br/>
The common mother, and to such excess,<br/>
Wax’d in my scorn of all men, that I fell,<br/>
Fell therefore; by what fate Sienna’s sons,<br/>
Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.<br/>
I am Omberto; not me only pride<br/>
Hath injur’d, but my kindred all involv’d<br/>
In mischief with her. Here my lot ordains<br/>
Under this weight to groan, till I appease<br/>
God’s angry justice, since I did it not<br/>
Amongst the living, here amongst the dead.”<br/>
<br/>
List’ning I bent my visage down: and one<br/>
(Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight<br/>
That urg’d him, saw me, knew me straight, and call’d,<br/>
Holding his eyes With difficulty fix’d<br/>
Intent upon me, stooping as I went<br/>
Companion of their way. “O!” I exclaim’d,<br/>
<br/>
“Art thou not Oderigi, art not thou<br/>
Agobbio’s glory, glory of that art<br/>
Which they of Paris call the limmer’s skill?”<br/>
<br/>
“Brother!” said he, “with tints that gayer smile,<br/>
Bolognian Franco’s pencil lines the leaves.<br/>
His all the honour now; mine borrow’d light.<br/>
In truth I had not been thus courteous to him,<br/>
The whilst I liv’d, through eagerness of zeal<br/>
For that pre-eminence my heart was bent on.<br/>
Here of such pride the forfeiture is paid.<br/>
Nor were I even here; if, able still<br/>
To sin, I had not turn’d me unto God.<br/>
O powers of man! how vain your glory, nipp’d<br/>
E’en in its height of verdure, if an age<br/>
Less bright succeed not! Cimabue thought<br/>
To lord it over painting’s field; and now<br/>
The cry is Giotto’s, and his name eclips’d.<br/>
Thus hath one Guido from the other snatch’d<br/>
The letter’d prize: and he perhaps is born,<br/>
Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise<br/>
Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,<br/>
That blows from divers points, and shifts its name<br/>
Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more<br/>
Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh<br/>
Part shrivel’d from thee, than if thou hadst died,<br/>
Before the coral and the pap were left,<br/>
Or ere some thousand years have passed? and that<br/>
Is, to eternity compar’d, a space,<br/>
Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye<br/>
To the heaven’s slowest orb. He there who treads<br/>
So leisurely before me, far and wide<br/>
Through Tuscany resounded once; and now<br/>
Is in Sienna scarce with whispers nam’d:<br/>
There was he sov’reign, when destruction caught<br/>
The madd’ning rage of Florence, in that day<br/>
Proud as she now is loathsome. Your renown<br/>
Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go,<br/>
And his might withers it, by whom it sprang<br/>
Crude from the lap of earth.” I thus to him:<br/>
“True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe<br/>
The kindly spirit of meekness, and allay<br/>
What tumours rankle there. But who is he<br/>
Of whom thou spak’st but now?”&mdash;“This,” he replied,<br/>
“Is Provenzano. He is here, because<br/>
He reach’d, with grasp presumptuous, at the sway<br/>
Of all Sienna. Thus he still hath gone,<br/>
Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.<br/>
Such is th’ acquittance render’d back of him,<br/>
Who, beyond measure, dar’d on earth.” I then:<br/>
“If soul that to the verge of life delays<br/>
Repentance, linger in that lower space,<br/>
Nor hither mount, unless good prayers befriend,<br/>
How chanc’d admittance was vouchsaf’d to him?”<br/>
<br/>
“When at his glory’s topmost height,” said he,<br/>
“Respect of dignity all cast aside,<br/>
Freely He fix’d him on Sienna’s plain,<br/>
A suitor to redeem his suff’ring friend,<br/>
Who languish’d in the prison-house of Charles,<br/>
Nor for his sake refus’d through every vein<br/>
To tremble. More I will not say; and dark,<br/>
I know, my words are, but thy neighbours soon<br/>
Shall help thee to a comment on the text.<br/>
This is the work, that from these limits freed him.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.12"></a>CANTO XII</h2>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/12-1.jpg">
<img src="images/12-1.jpg" width="480" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
With equal pace as oxen in the yoke,<br/>
I with that laden spirit journey’d on<br/>
Long as the mild instructor suffer’d me;<br/>
But when he bade me quit him, and proceed<br/>
(For “here,” said he, “behooves with sail and oars<br/>
Each man, as best he may, push on his bark”),<br/>
Upright, as one dispos’d for speed, I rais’d<br/>
My body, still in thought submissive bow’d.<br/>
<br/>
I now my leader’s track not loth pursued;<br/>
And each had shown how light we far’d along<br/>
When thus he warn’d me: “Bend thine eyesight down:<br/>
For thou to ease the way shall find it good<br/>
To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet.”<br/>
<br/>
As in memorial of the buried, drawn<br/>
Upon earth-level tombs, the sculptur’d form<br/>
Of what was once, appears (at sight whereof<br/>
Tears often stream forth by remembrance wak’d,<br/>
Whose sacred stings the piteous only feel),<br/>
So saw I there, but with more curious skill<br/>
Of portraiture o’erwrought, whate’er of space<br/>
From forth the mountain stretches. On one part<br/>
Him I beheld, above all creatures erst<br/>
Created noblest, light’ning fall from heaven:<br/>
On th’ other side with bolt celestial pierc’d<br/>
Briareus: cumb’ring earth he lay through dint<br/>
Of mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbraean god<br/>
With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,<br/>
Arm’d still, and gazing on the giant’s limbs<br/>
Strewn o’er th’ ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:<br/>
At foot of the stupendous work he stood,<br/>
As if bewilder’d, looking on the crowd<br/>
Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar’s plain.<br/>
<br/>
O Niobe! in what a trance of woe<br/>
Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,<br/>
Sev’n sons on either side thee slain! O Saul!<br/>
How ghastly didst thou look! on thine own sword<br/>
Expiring in Gilboa, from that hour<br/>
Ne’er visited with rain from heav’n or dew!
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/12-39.jpg">
<img src="images/12-39.jpg" width="561" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
O fond Arachne! thee I also saw<br/>
Half spider now in anguish crawling up<br/>
Th’ unfinish’d web thou weaved’st to thy bane!<br/>
<br/>
O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem<br/>
Louring no more defiance! but fear-smote<br/>
With none to chase him in his chariot whirl’d.<br/>
<br/>
Was shown beside upon the solid floor<br/>
How dear Alcmaeon forc’d his mother rate<br/>
That ornament in evil hour receiv’d:<br/>
How in the temple on Sennacherib fell<br/>
His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.<br/>
Was shown the scath and cruel mangling made<br/>
By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried:<br/>
“Blood thou didst thirst for, take thy fill of blood!”<br/>
Was shown how routed in the battle fled<br/>
Th’ Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e’en<br/>
The relics of the carnage. Troy I mark’d<br/>
In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fall’n,<br/>
How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there!<br/>
<br/>
What master of the pencil or the style<br/>
Had trac’d the shades and lines, that might have made<br/>
The subtlest workman wonder? Dead the dead,<br/>
The living seem’d alive; with clearer view<br/>
His eye beheld not who beheld the truth,<br/>
Than mine what I did tread on, while I went<br/>
Low bending. Now swell out; and with stiff necks<br/>
Pass on, ye sons of Eve! veil not your looks,<br/>
Lest they descry the evil of your path!<br/>
<br/>
I noted not (so busied was my thought)<br/>
How much we now had circled of the mount,<br/>
And of his course yet more the sun had spent,<br/>
When he, who with still wakeful caution went,<br/>
Admonish’d: “Raise thou up thy head: for know<br/>
Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold<br/>
That way an angel hasting towards us! Lo<br/>
Where duly the sixth handmaid doth return<br/>
From service on the day. Wear thou in look<br/>
And gesture seemly grace of reverent awe,<br/>
That gladly he may forward us aloft.<br/>
Consider that this day ne’er dawns again.”<br/>
<br/>
Time’s loss he had so often warn’d me ’gainst,<br/>
I could not miss the scope at which he aim’d.<br/>
<br/>
The goodly shape approach’d us, snowy white<br/>
In vesture, and with visage casting streams<br/>
Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.<br/>
His arms he open’d, then his wings; and spake:<br/>
“Onward: the steps, behold! are near; and now<br/>
Th’ ascent is without difficulty gain’d.”<br/>
<br/>
A scanty few are they, who when they hear<br/>
Such tidings, hasten. O ye race of men<br/>
Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind<br/>
So slight to baffle ye? He led us on<br/>
Where the rock parted; here against my front<br/>
Did beat his wings, then promis’d I should fare<br/>
In safety on my way. As to ascend<br/>
That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands<br/>
(O’er Rubaconte, looking lordly down<br/>
On the well-guided city,) up the right<br/>
Th’ impetuous rise is broken by the steps<br/>
Carv’d in that old and simple age, when still<br/>
The registry and label rested safe;<br/>
Thus is th’ acclivity reliev’d, which here<br/>
Precipitous from the other circuit falls:<br/>
But on each hand the tall cliff presses close.<br/>
<br/>
As ent’ring there we turn’d, voices, in strain<br/>
Ineffable, sang: “Blessed are the poor<br/>
In spirit.” Ah how far unlike to these<br/>
The straits of hell; here songs to usher us,<br/>
There shrieks of woe! We climb the holy stairs:<br/>
And lighter to myself by far I seem’d<br/>
Than on the plain before, whence thus I spake:<br/>
“Say, master, of what heavy thing have I<br/>
Been lighten’d, that scarce aught the sense of toil<br/>
Affects me journeying?” He in few replied:<br/>
“When sin’s broad characters, that yet remain<br/>
Upon thy temples, though well nigh effac’d,<br/>
Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out,<br/>
Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will<br/>
Be so o’ercome, they not alone shall feel<br/>
No sense of labour, but delight much more<br/>
Shall wait them urg’d along their upward way.”<br/>
<br/>
Then like to one, upon whose head is plac’d<br/>
Somewhat he deems not of but from the becks<br/>
Of others as they pass him by; his hand<br/>
Lends therefore help to’ assure him, searches, finds,<br/>
And well performs such office as the eye<br/>
Wants power to execute: so stretching forth<br/>
The fingers of my right hand, did I find<br/>
Six only of the letters, which his sword<br/>
Who bare the keys had trac’d upon my brow.<br/>
The leader, as he mark’d mine action, smil’d.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.13"></a>CANTO XIII</h2>

<p>
We reach’d the summit of the scale, and stood<br/>
Upon the second buttress of that mount<br/>
Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there,<br/>
Like to the former, girdles round the hill;<br/>
Save that its arch with sweep less ample bends.<br/>
<br/>
Shadow nor image there is seen; all smooth<br/>
The rampart and the path, reflecting nought<br/>
But the rock’s sullen hue. “If here we wait<br/>
For some to question,” said the bard, “I fear<br/>
Our choice may haply meet too long delay.”<br/>
<br/>
Then fixedly upon the sun his eyes<br/>
He fastn’d, made his right the central point<br/>
From whence to move, and turn’d the left aside.<br/>
“O pleasant light, my confidence and hope,<br/>
Conduct us thou,” he cried, “on this new way,<br/>
Where now I venture, leading to the bourn<br/>
We seek. The universal world to thee<br/>
Owes warmth and lustre. If no other cause<br/>
Forbid, thy beams should ever be our guide.”<br/>
<br/>
Far, as is measur’d for a mile on earth,<br/>
In brief space had we journey’d; such prompt will<br/>
Impell’d; and towards us flying, now were heard<br/>
Spirits invisible, who courteously<br/>
Unto love’s table bade the welcome guest.<br/>
The voice, that first? flew by, call’d forth aloud,<br/>
“They have no wine;” so on behind us past,<br/>
Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lost<br/>
In the faint distance, when another came<br/>
Crying, “I am Orestes,” and alike<br/>
Wing’d its fleet way. “Oh father!” I exclaim’d,<br/>
“What tongues are these?” and as I question’d, lo!<br/>
A third exclaiming, “Love ye those have wrong’d you.”<br/>
<br/>
“This circuit,” said my teacher, “knots the scourge<br/>
For envy, and the cords are therefore drawn<br/>
By charity’s correcting hand. The curb<br/>
Is of a harsher sound, as thou shalt hear<br/>
(If I deem rightly), ere thou reach the pass,<br/>
Where pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyes<br/>
Intently through the air, and thou shalt see<br/>
A multitude before thee seated, each<br/>
Along the shelving grot.” Then more than erst<br/>
I op’d my eyes, before me view’d, and saw<br/>
Shadows with garments dark as was the rock;<br/>
And when we pass’d a little forth, I heard<br/>
A crying, “Blessed Mary! pray for us,<br/>
Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!”<br/>
<br/>
I do not think there walks on earth this day<br/>
Man so remorseless, that he hath not yearn’d<br/>
With pity at the sight that next I saw.<br/>
Mine eyes a load of sorrow teemed, when now<br/>
I stood so near them, that their semblances<br/>
Came clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile<br/>
Their cov’ring seem’d; and on his shoulder one<br/>
Did stay another, leaning, and all lean’d<br/>
Against the cliff. E’en thus the blind and poor,<br/>
Near the confessionals, to crave an alms,<br/>
Stand, each his head upon his fellow’s sunk,
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/13-55.jpg">
<img src="images/13-55.jpg" width="477" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
So most to stir compassion, not by sound<br/>
Of words alone, but that, which moves not less,<br/>
The sight of mis’ry. And as never beam<br/>
Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man,<br/>
E’en so was heav’n a niggard unto these<br/>
Of his fair light; for, through the orbs of all,<br/>
A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,<br/>
As for the taming of a haggard hawk.<br/>
<br/>
It were a wrong, methought, to pass and look<br/>
On others, yet myself the while unseen.<br/>
To my sage counsel therefore did I turn.<br/>
He knew the meaning of the mute appeal,<br/>
Nor waited for my questioning, but said:<br/>
“Speak; and be brief, be subtle in thy words.”<br/>
<br/>
On that part of the cornice, whence no rim<br/>
Engarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come;<br/>
On the’ other side me were the spirits, their cheeks<br/>
Bathing devout with penitential tears,<br/>
That through the dread impalement forc’d a way.<br/>
<br/>
I turn’d me to them, and “O shades!” said I,<br/>
<br/>
“Assur’d that to your eyes unveil’d shall shine<br/>
The lofty light, sole object of your wish,<br/>
So may heaven’s grace clear whatsoe’er of foam<br/>
Floats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth<br/>
The stream of mind roll limpid from its source,<br/>
As ye declare (for so shall ye impart<br/>
A boon I dearly prize) if any soul<br/>
Of Latium dwell among ye; and perchance<br/>
That soul may profit, if I learn so much.”<br/>
<br/>
“My brother, we are each one citizens<br/>
Of one true city. Any thou wouldst say,<br/>
Who lived a stranger in Italia’s land.”<br/>
<br/>
So heard I answering, as appeal’d, a voice<br/>
That onward came some space from whence I stood.<br/>
<br/>
A spirit I noted, in whose look was mark’d<br/>
Expectance. Ask ye how? The chin was rais’d<br/>
As in one reft of sight. “Spirit,” said I,<br/>
“Who for thy rise are tutoring (if thou be<br/>
That which didst answer to me,) or by place<br/>
Or name, disclose thyself, that I may know thee.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was,” it answer’d, “of Sienna: here<br/>
I cleanse away with these the evil life,<br/>
Soliciting with tears that He, who is,<br/>
Vouchsafe him to us. Though Sapia nam’d<br/>
In sapience I excell’d not, gladder far<br/>
Of others’ hurt, than of the good befell me.<br/>
That thou mayst own I now deceive thee not,<br/>
Hear, if my folly were not as I speak it.<br/>
When now my years slop’d waning down the arch,<br/>
It so bechanc’d, my fellow citizens<br/>
Near Colle met their enemies in the field,<br/>
And I pray’d God to grant what He had will’d.<br/>
There were they vanquish’d, and betook themselves<br/>
Unto the bitter passages of flight.<br/>
I mark’d the hunt, and waxing out of bounds<br/>
In gladness, lifted up my shameless brow,<br/>
And like the merlin cheated by a gleam,<br/>
Cried, “It is over. Heav’n! I fear thee not.”<br/>
Upon my verge of life I wish’d for peace<br/>
With God; nor repentance had supplied<br/>
What I did lack of duty, were it not<br/>
The hermit Piero, touch’d with charity,<br/>
In his devout orisons thought on me.<br/>
“But who art thou that question’st of our state,<br/>
Who go’st to my belief, with lids unclos’d,<br/>
And breathest in thy talk?”&mdash;“Mine eyes,” said I,<br/>
“May yet be here ta’en from me; but not long;<br/>
For they have not offended grievously<br/>
With envious glances. But the woe beneath<br/>
Urges my soul with more exceeding dread.<br/>
That nether load already weighs me down.”<br/>
<br/>
She thus: “Who then amongst us here aloft<br/>
Hath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/13-129.jpg">
<img src="images/13-129.jpg" width="477" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“He,” answer’d I, “who standeth mute beside me.<br/>
I live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit,<br/>
If thou desire I yonder yet should move<br/>
For thee my mortal feet.”&mdash;“Oh!” she replied,<br/>
“This is so strange a thing, it is great sign<br/>
That God doth love thee. Therefore with thy prayer<br/>
Sometime assist me: and by that I crave,<br/>
Which most thou covetest, that if thy feet<br/>
E’er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame<br/>
Amongst my kindred. Them shalt thou behold<br/>
With that vain multitude, who set their hope<br/>
On Telamone’s haven, there to fail<br/>
Confounded, more shall when the fancied stream<br/>
They sought of Dian call’d: but they who lead<br/>
Their navies, more than ruin’d hopes shall mourn.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.14"></a>CANTO XIV</h2>

<p>
“Say who is he around our mountain winds,<br/>
Or ever death has prun’d his wing for flight,<br/>
That opes his eyes and covers them at will?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know not who he is, but know thus much<br/>
He comes not singly. Do thou ask of him,<br/>
For thou art nearer to him, and take heed<br/>
Accost him gently, so that he may speak.”<br/>
<br/>
Thus on the right two Spirits bending each<br/>
Toward the other, talk’d of me, then both<br/>
Addressing me, their faces backward lean’d,<br/>
And thus the one began: “O soul, who yet<br/>
Pent in the body, tendest towards the sky!<br/>
For charity, we pray thee’ comfort us,<br/>
Recounting whence thou com’st, and who thou art:<br/>
For thou dost make us at the favour shown thee<br/>
Marvel, as at a thing that ne’er hath been.”<br/>
<br/>
“There stretches through the midst of Tuscany,”<br/>
I straight began: “a brooklet, whose well-head<br/>
Springs up in Falterona, with his race<br/>
Not satisfied, when he some hundred miles<br/>
Hath measur’d. From his banks bring, I this frame.<br/>
To tell you who I am were words misspent:<br/>
For yet my name scarce sounds on rumour’s lip.”<br/>
<br/>
“If well I do incorp’rate with my thought<br/>
The meaning of thy speech,” said he, who first<br/>
Addrest me, “thou dost speak of Arno’s wave.”<br/>
<br/>
To whom the other: “Why hath he conceal’d<br/>
The title of that river, as a man<br/>
Doth of some horrible thing?” The spirit, who<br/>
Thereof was question’d, did acquit him thus:<br/>
“I know not: but ’tis fitting well the name<br/>
Should perish of that vale; for from the source<br/>
Where teems so plenteously the Alpine steep<br/>
Maim’d of Pelorus, (that doth scarcely pass<br/>
Beyond that limit,) even to the point<br/>
Whereunto ocean is restor’d, what heaven<br/>
Drains from th’ exhaustless store for all earth’s streams,<br/>
Throughout the space is virtue worried down,<br/>
As ’twere a snake, by all, for mortal foe,<br/>
Or through disastrous influence on the place,<br/>
Or else distortion of misguided wills,<br/>
That custom goads to evil: whence in those,<br/>
The dwellers in that miserable vale,<br/>
Nature is so transform’d, it seems as they<br/>
Had shar’d of Circe’s feeding. ’Midst brute swine,<br/>
Worthier of acorns than of other food<br/>
Created for man’s use, he shapeth first<br/>
His obscure way; then, sloping onward, finds<br/>
Curs, snarlers more in spite than power, from whom<br/>
He turns with scorn aside: still journeying down,<br/>
By how much more the curst and luckless foss<br/>
Swells out to largeness, e’en so much it finds<br/>
Dogs turning into wolves. Descending still<br/>
Through yet more hollow eddies, next he meets<br/>
A race of foxes, so replete with craft,<br/>
They do not fear that skill can master it.<br/>
Nor will I cease because my words are heard<br/>
By other ears than thine. It shall be well<br/>
For this man, if he keep in memory<br/>
What from no erring Spirit I reveal.<br/>
Lo! I behold thy grandson, that becomes<br/>
A hunter of those wolves, upon the shore<br/>
Of the fierce stream, and cows them all with dread:<br/>
Their flesh yet living sets he up to sale,<br/>
Then like an aged beast to slaughter dooms.<br/>
Many of life he reaves, himself of worth<br/>
And goodly estimation. Smear’d with gore<br/>
Mark how he issues from the rueful wood,<br/>
Leaving such havoc, that in thousand years<br/>
It spreads not to prime lustihood again.”<br/>
<br/>
As one, who tidings hears of woe to come,<br/>
Changes his looks perturb’d, from whate’er part<br/>
The peril grasp him, so beheld I change<br/>
That spirit, who had turn’d to listen, struck<br/>
With sadness, soon as he had caught the word.<br/>
<br/>
His visage and the other’s speech did raise<br/>
Desire in me to know the names of both,<br/>
whereof with meek entreaty I inquir’d.<br/>
<br/>
The shade, who late addrest me, thus resum’d:<br/>
“Thy wish imports that I vouchsafe to do<br/>
For thy sake what thou wilt not do for mine.<br/>
But since God’s will is that so largely shine<br/>
His grace in thee, I will be liberal too.<br/>
Guido of Duca know then that I am.<br/>
Envy so parch’d my blood, that had I seen<br/>
A fellow man made joyous, thou hadst mark’d<br/>
A livid paleness overspread my cheek.<br/>
Such harvest reap I of the seed I sow’d.<br/>
O man, why place thy heart where there doth need<br/>
Exclusion of participants in good?<br/>
This is Rinieri’s spirit, this the boast<br/>
And honour of the house of Calboli,<br/>
Where of his worth no heritage remains.<br/>
Nor his the only blood, that hath been stript<br/>
(’twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore,)<br/>
Of all that truth or fancy asks for bliss;<br/>
But in those limits such a growth has sprung<br/>
Of rank and venom’d roots, as long would mock<br/>
Slow culture’s toil. Where is good Lizio? where<br/>
Manardi, Traversalo, and Carpigna?<br/>
O bastard slips of old Romagna’s line!<br/>
When in Bologna the low artisan,<br/>
And in Faenza yon Bernardin sprouts,<br/>
A gentle cyon from ignoble stem.<br/>
Wonder not, Tuscan, if thou see me weep,<br/>
When I recall to mind those once lov’d names,<br/>
Guido of Prata, and of Azzo him<br/>
That dwelt with you; Tignoso and his troop,<br/>
With Traversaro’s house and Anastagio’s,<br/>
(Each race disherited) and beside these,<br/>
The ladies and the knights, the toils and ease,<br/>
That witch’d us into love and courtesy;<br/>
Where now such malice reigns in recreant hearts.<br/>
O Brettinoro! wherefore tarriest still,<br/>
Since forth of thee thy family hath gone,<br/>
And many, hating evil, join’d their steps?<br/>
Well doeth he, that bids his lineage cease,<br/>
Bagnacavallo; Castracaro ill,<br/>
And Conio worse, who care to propagate<br/>
A race of Counties from such blood as theirs.<br/>
Well shall ye also do, Pagani, then<br/>
When from amongst you tries your demon child.<br/>
Not so, howe’er, that henceforth there remain<br/>
True proof of what ye were. O Hugolin!<br/>
Thou sprung of Fantolini’s line! thy name<br/>
Is safe, since none is look’d for after thee<br/>
To cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock.<br/>
But, Tuscan, go thy ways; for now I take<br/>
Far more delight in weeping than in words.<br/>
Such pity for your sakes hath wrung my heart.”<br/>
<br/>
We knew those gentle spirits at parting heard<br/>
Our steps. Their silence therefore of our way<br/>
Assur’d us. Soon as we had quitted them,<br/>
Advancing onward, lo! a voice that seem’d<br/>
Like vollied light’ning, when it rives the air,<br/>
Met us, and shouted, “Whosoever finds<br/>
Will slay me,” then fled from us, as the bolt<br/>
Lanc’d sudden from a downward-rushing cloud.<br/>
When it had giv’n short truce unto our hearing,<br/>
Behold the other with a crash as loud<br/>
As the quick-following thunder: “Mark in me<br/>
Aglauros turn’d to rock.” I at the sound<br/>
Retreating drew more closely to my guide.<br/>
<br/>
Now in mute stillness rested all the air:<br/>
And thus he spake: “There was the galling bit.<br/>
But your old enemy so baits his hook,<br/>
He drags you eager to him. Hence nor curb<br/>
Avails you, nor reclaiming call. Heav’n calls<br/>
And round about you wheeling courts your gaze<br/>
With everlasting beauties. Yet your eye<br/>
Turns with fond doting still upon the earth.<br/>
Therefore He smites you who discerneth all.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.15"></a>CANTO XV</h2>

<p>
As much as ’twixt the third hour’s close and dawn,<br/>
Appeareth of heav’n’s sphere, that ever whirls<br/>
As restless as an infant in his play,<br/>
So much appear’d remaining to the sun<br/>
Of his slope journey towards the western goal.<br/>
<br/>
Evening was there, and here the noon of night;<br/>
and full upon our forehead smote the beams.<br/>
For round the mountain, circling, so our path<br/>
Had led us, that toward the sun-set now<br/>
Direct we journey’d: when I felt a weight<br/>
Of more exceeding splendour, than before,<br/>
Press on my front. The cause unknown, amaze<br/>
Possess’d me, and both hands against my brow<br/>
Lifting, I interpos’d them, as a screen,<br/>
That of its gorgeous superflux of light<br/>
Clipp’d the diminish’d orb. As when the ray,<br/>
Striking On water or the surface clear<br/>
Of mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,<br/>
Ascending at a glance, e’en as it fell,<br/>
(And so much differs from the stone, that falls)<br/>
Through equal space, as practice skill hath shown;<br/>
Thus with refracted light before me seemed<br/>
The ground there smitten; whence in sudden haste<br/>
My sight recoil’d. “What is this, sire belov’d!<br/>
’Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?”<br/>
Cried I, “and which towards us moving seems?”<br/>
<br/>
“Marvel not, if the family of heav’n,”<br/>
He answer’d, “yet with dazzling radiance dim<br/>
Thy sense it is a messenger who comes,<br/>
Inviting man’s ascent. Such sights ere long,<br/>
Not grievous, shall impart to thee delight,<br/>
As thy perception is by nature wrought<br/>
Up to their pitch.” The blessed angel, soon<br/>
As we had reach’d him, hail’d us with glad voice:<br/>
“Here enter on a ladder far less steep<br/>
Than ye have yet encounter’d.” We forthwith<br/>
Ascending, heard behind us chanted sweet,<br/>
“Blessed the merciful,” and “happy thou!<br/>
That conquer’st.” Lonely each, my guide and I<br/>
Pursued our upward way; and as we went,<br/>
Some profit from his words I hop’d to win,<br/>
And thus of him inquiring, fram’d my speech:<br/>
<br/>
“What meant Romagna’s spirit, when he spake<br/>
Of bliss exclusive with no partner shar’d?”<br/>
<br/>
He straight replied: “No wonder, since he knows,<br/>
What sorrow waits on his own worst defect,<br/>
If he chide others, that they less may mourn.<br/>
Because ye point your wishes at a mark,<br/>
Where, by communion of possessors, part<br/>
Is lessen’d, envy bloweth up the sighs of men.<br/>
No fear of that might touch ye, if the love<br/>
Of higher sphere exalted your desire.<br/>
For there, by how much more they call it ours,<br/>
So much propriety of each in good<br/>
Increases more, and heighten’d charity<br/>
Wraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.”<br/>
<br/>
“Now lack I satisfaction more,” said I,<br/>
“Than if thou hadst been silent at the first,<br/>
And doubt more gathers on my lab’ring thought.<br/>
How can it chance, that good distributed,<br/>
The many, that possess it, makes more rich,<br/>
Than if ’t were shar’d by few?” He answering thus:<br/>
“Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,<br/>
Strikes darkness from true light. The highest good<br/>
Unlimited, ineffable, doth so speed<br/>
To love, as beam to lucid body darts,<br/>
Giving as much of ardour as it finds.<br/>
The sempiternal effluence streams abroad<br/>
Spreading, wherever charity extends.<br/>
So that the more aspirants to that bliss<br/>
Are multiplied, more good is there to love,<br/>
And more is lov’d; as mirrors, that reflect,<br/>
Each unto other, propagated light.<br/>
If these my words avail not to allay<br/>
Thy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,<br/>
Who of this want, and of all else thou hast,<br/>
Shall rid thee to the full. Provide but thou<br/>
That from thy temples may be soon eras’d,<br/>
E’en as the two already, those five scars,<br/>
That when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal,”<br/>
<br/>
“Thou,” I had said, “content’st me,” when I saw<br/>
The other round was gain’d, and wond’ring eyes<br/>
Did keep me mute. There suddenly I seem’d<br/>
By an ecstatic vision wrapt away;<br/>
And in a temple saw, methought, a crowd<br/>
Of many persons; and at th’ entrance stood<br/>
A dame, whose sweet demeanour did express<br/>
A mother’s love, who said, “Child! why hast thou<br/>
Dealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and I<br/>
Sorrowing have sought thee;” and so held her peace,<br/>
And straight the vision fled. A female next<br/>
Appear’d before me, down whose visage cours’d<br/>
Those waters, that grief forces out from one<br/>
By deep resentment stung, who seem’d to say:<br/>
“If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeed<br/>
Over this city, nam’d with such debate<br/>
Of adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,<br/>
Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embrace<br/>
Hath clasp’d our daughter; “and to fuel, meseem’d,<br/>
Benign and meek, with visage undisturb’d,<br/>
Her sovran spake: “How shall we those requite,<br/>
Who wish us evil, if we thus condemn<br/>
The man that loves us?” After that I saw<br/>
A multitude, in fury burning, slay<br/>
With stones a stripling youth, and shout amain<br/>
“Destroy, destroy!” and him I saw, who bow’d<br/>
Heavy with death unto the ground, yet made<br/>
His eyes, unfolded upward, gates to heav’n,
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/15-103.jpg">
<img src="images/15-103.jpg" width="584" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Praying forgiveness of th’ Almighty Sire,<br/>
Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,<br/>
With looks, that With compassion to their aim.<br/>
<br/>
Soon as my spirit, from her airy flight<br/>
Returning, sought again the things, whose truth<br/>
Depends not on her shaping, I observ’d<br/>
How she had rov’d to no unreal scenes<br/>
<br/>
Meanwhile the leader, who might see I mov’d,<br/>
As one, who struggles to shake off his sleep,<br/>
Exclaim’d: “What ails thee, that thou canst not hold<br/>
Thy footing firm, but more than half a league<br/>
Hast travel’d with clos’d eyes and tott’ring gait,<br/>
Like to a man by wine or sleep o’ercharg’d?”<br/>
<br/>
“Beloved father! so thou deign,” said I,<br/>
“To listen, I will tell thee what appear’d<br/>
Before me, when so fail’d my sinking steps.”<br/>
<br/>
He thus: “Not if thy Countenance were mask’d<br/>
With hundred vizards, could a thought of thine<br/>
How small soe’er, elude me. What thou saw’st<br/>
Was shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heart<br/>
To the waters of peace, that flow diffus’d<br/>
From their eternal fountain. I not ask’d,<br/>
What ails thee? for such cause as he doth, who<br/>
Looks only with that eye which sees no more,<br/>
When spiritless the body lies; but ask’d,<br/>
To give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goads<br/>
The slow and loit’ring need; that they be found<br/>
Not wanting, when their hour of watch returns.”<br/>
<br/>
So on we journey’d through the evening sky<br/>
Gazing intent, far onward, as our eyes<br/>
With level view could stretch against the bright<br/>
Vespertine ray: and lo! by slow degrees<br/>
Gath’ring, a fog made tow’rds us, dark as night.<br/>
There was no room for ’scaping; and that mist<br/>
Bereft us, both of sight and the pure air.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.16"></a>CANTO XVI</h2>

<p>
Hell’s dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark,<br/>
Of every planes ’reft, and pall’d in clouds,<br/>
Did never spread before the sight a veil<br/>
In thickness like that fog, nor to the sense<br/>
So palpable and gross. Ent’ring its shade,<br/>
Mine eye endured not with unclosed lids;<br/>
Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide,<br/>
Offering me his shoulder for a stay.<br/>
<br/>
As the blind man behind his leader walks,<br/>
Lest he should err, or stumble unawares<br/>
On what might harm him, or perhaps destroy,<br/>
I journey’d through that bitter air and foul,<br/>
Still list’ning to my escort’s warning voice,<br/>
“Look that from me thou part not.” Straight I heard<br/>
Voices, and each one seem’d to pray for peace,<br/>
And for compassion, to the Lamb of God<br/>
That taketh sins away. Their prelude still<br/>
Was “Agnus Dei,” and through all the choir,<br/>
One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seem’d<br/>
The concord of their song. “Are these I hear<br/>
Spirits, O master?” I exclaim’d; and he:<br/>
“Thou aim’st aright: these loose the bonds of wrath.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/16-23.jpg">
<img src="images/16-23.jpg" width="547" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Now who art thou, that through our smoke dost cleave?<br/>
And speak’st of us, as thou thyself e’en yet<br/>
Dividest time by calends?” So one voice<br/>
Bespake me; whence my master said: “Reply;<br/>
And ask, if upward hence the passage lead.”<br/>
<br/>
“O being! who dost make thee pure, to stand<br/>
Beautiful once more in thy Maker’s sight!<br/>
Along with me: and thou shalt hear and wonder.”<br/>
Thus I, whereto the spirit answering spake:
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/16-32.jpg">
<img src="images/16-32.jpg" width="573" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Long as ’t is lawful for me, shall my steps<br/>
Follow on thine; and since the cloudy smoke<br/>
Forbids the seeing, hearing in its stead<br/>
Shall keep us join’d.” I then forthwith began<br/>
“Yet in my mortal swathing, I ascend<br/>
To higher regions, and am hither come<br/>
Through the fearful agony of hell.<br/>
And, if so largely God hath doled his grace,<br/>
That, clean beside all modern precedent,<br/>
He wills me to behold his kingly state,<br/>
From me conceal not who thou wast, ere death<br/>
Had loos’d thee; but instruct me: and instruct<br/>
If rightly to the pass I tend; thy words<br/>
The way directing as a safe escort.”<br/>
<br/>
“I was of Lombardy, and Marco call’d:<br/>
Not inexperienc’d of the world, that worth<br/>
I still affected, from which all have turn’d<br/>
The nerveless bow aside. Thy course tends right<br/>
Unto the summit:” and, replying thus,<br/>
He added, “I beseech thee pray for me,<br/>
When thou shalt come aloft.” And I to him:<br/>
“Accept my faith for pledge I will perform<br/>
What thou requirest. Yet one doubt remains,<br/>
That wrings me sorely, if I solve it not,<br/>
Singly before it urg’d me, doubled now<br/>
By thine opinion, when I couple that<br/>
With one elsewhere declar’d, each strength’ning other.<br/>
The world indeed is even so forlorn<br/>
Of all good as thou speak’st it and so swarms<br/>
With every evil. Yet, beseech thee, point<br/>
The cause out to me, that myself may see,<br/>
And unto others show it: for in heaven<br/>
One places it, and one on earth below.”<br/>
<br/>
Then heaving forth a deep and audible sigh,<br/>
“Brother!” he thus began, “the world is blind;<br/>
And thou in truth com’st from it. Ye, who live,<br/>
Do so each cause refer to heav’n above,<br/>
E’en as its motion of necessity<br/>
Drew with it all that moves. If this were so,<br/>
Free choice in you were none; nor justice would<br/>
There should be joy for virtue, woe for ill.<br/>
Your movements have their primal bent from heaven;<br/>
Not all; yet said I all; what then ensues?<br/>
Light have ye still to follow evil or good,<br/>
And of the will free power, which, if it stand<br/>
Firm and unwearied in Heav’n’s first assay,<br/>
Conquers at last, so it be cherish’d well,<br/>
Triumphant over all. To mightier force,<br/>
To better nature subject, ye abide<br/>
Free, not constrain’d by that, which forms in you<br/>
The reasoning mind uninfluenc’d of the stars.<br/>
If then the present race of mankind err,<br/>
Seek in yourselves the cause, and find it there.<br/>
Herein thou shalt confess me no false spy.<br/>
<br/>
“Forth from his plastic hand, who charm’d beholds<br/>
Her image ere she yet exist, the soul<br/>
Comes like a babe, that wantons sportively<br/>
Weeping and laughing in its wayward moods,<br/>
As artless and as ignorant of aught,<br/>
Save that her Maker being one who dwells<br/>
With gladness ever, willingly she turns<br/>
To whate’er yields her joy. Of some slight good<br/>
The flavour soon she tastes; and, snar’d by that,<br/>
With fondness she pursues it, if no guide<br/>
Recall, no rein direct her wand’ring course.<br/>
Hence it behov’d, the law should be a curb;<br/>
A sovereign hence behov’d, whose piercing view<br/>
Might mark at least the fortress and main tower<br/>
Of the true city. Laws indeed there are:<br/>
But who is he observes them? None; not he,<br/>
Who goes before, the shepherd of the flock,<br/>
Who chews the cud but doth not cleave the hoof.<br/>
Therefore the multitude, who see their guide<br/>
Strike at the very good they covet most,<br/>
Feed there and look no further. Thus the cause<br/>
Is not corrupted nature in yourselves,<br/>
But ill-conducting, that hath turn’d the world<br/>
To evil. Rome, that turn’d it unto good,<br/>
Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams<br/>
Cast light on either way, the world’s and God’s.<br/>
One since hath quench’d the other; and the sword<br/>
Is grafted on the crook; and so conjoin’d<br/>
Each must perforce decline to worse, unaw’d<br/>
By fear of other. If thou doubt me, mark<br/>
The blade: each herb is judg’d of by its seed.<br/>
That land, through which Adice and the Po<br/>
Their waters roll, was once the residence<br/>
Of courtesy and velour, ere the day,<br/>
That frown’d on Frederick; now secure may pass<br/>
Those limits, whosoe’er hath left, for shame,<br/>
To talk with good men, or come near their haunts.<br/>
Three aged ones are still found there, in whom<br/>
The old time chides the new: these deem it long<br/>
Ere God restore them to a better world:<br/>
The good Gherardo, of Palazzo he<br/>
Conrad, and Guido of Castello, nam’d<br/>
In Gallic phrase more fitly the plain Lombard.<br/>
On this at last conclude. The church of Rome,<br/>
Mixing two governments that ill assort,<br/>
Hath miss’d her footing, fall’n into the mire,<br/>
And there herself and burden much defil’d.”<br/>
<br/>
“O Marco!” I replied, shine arguments<br/>
Convince me: and the cause I now discern<br/>
Why of the heritage no portion came<br/>
To Levi’s offspring. But resolve me this<br/>
Who that Gherardo is, that as thou sayst<br/>
Is left a sample of the perish’d race,<br/>
And for rebuke to this untoward age?”<br/>
<br/>
“Either thy words,” said he, “deceive; or else<br/>
Are meant to try me; that thou, speaking Tuscan,<br/>
Appear’st not to have heard of good Gherado;<br/>
The sole addition that, by which I know him;<br/>
Unless I borrow’d from his daughter Gaia<br/>
Another name to grace him. God be with you.<br/>
I bear you company no more. Behold<br/>
The dawn with white ray glimm’ring through the mist.<br/>
I must away&mdash;the angel comes&mdash;ere he<br/>
Appear.” He said, and would not hear me more.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.17"></a>CANTO XVII</h2>

<p>
Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e’er<br/>
Hast, on a mountain top, been ta’en by cloud,<br/>
Through which thou saw’st no better, than the mole<br/>
Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene’er<br/>
The wat’ry vapours dense began to melt<br/>
Into thin air, how faintly the sun’s sphere<br/>
Seem’d wading through them; so thy nimble thought<br/>
May image, how at first I re-beheld<br/>
The sun, that bedward now his couch o’erhung.<br/>
<br/>
Thus with my leader’s feet still equaling pace<br/>
From forth that cloud I came, when now expir’d<br/>
The parting beams from off the nether shores.<br/>
<br/>
O quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost<br/>
So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark<br/>
Though round about us thousand trumpets clang!<br/>
What moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light<br/>
Kindled in heav’n, spontaneous, self-inform’d,<br/>
Or likelier gliding down with swift illapse<br/>
By will divine. Portray’d before me came<br/>
The traces of her dire impiety,<br/>
Whose form was chang’d into the bird, that most<br/>
Delights itself in song: and here my mind<br/>
Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place<br/>
To aught that ask’d admittance from without.<br/>
<br/>
Next shower’d into my fantasy a shape<br/>
As of one crucified, whose visage spake<br/>
Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;<br/>
And round him Ahasuerus the great king,<br/>
Esther his bride, and Mordecai the just,<br/>
Blameless in word and deed. As of itself<br/>
That unsubstantial coinage of the brain<br/>
Burst, like a bubble, Which the water fails<br/>
That fed it; in my vision straight uprose<br/>
A damsel weeping loud, and cried, “O queen!<br/>
O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire<br/>
Driv’n thee to loath thy being? Not to lose<br/>
Lavinia, desp’rate thou hast slain thyself.<br/>
Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears<br/>
Mourn, ere I fall, a mother’s timeless end.”<br/>
<br/>
E’en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly<br/>
New radiance strike upon the closed lids,<br/>
The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;<br/>
Thus from before me sunk that imagery<br/>
Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck<br/>
The light, outshining far our earthly beam.<br/>
As round I turn’d me to survey what place<br/>
I had arriv’d at, “Here ye mount,” exclaim’d<br/>
A voice, that other purpose left me none,<br/>
Save will so eager to behold who spake,<br/>
I could not choose but gaze. As ’fore the sun,<br/>
That weighs our vision down, and veils his form<br/>
In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail’d<br/>
Unequal. “This is Spirit from above,<br/>
Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;<br/>
And in his own light shrouds him. As a man<br/>
Doth for himself, so now is done for us.<br/>
For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need<br/>
Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepar’d<br/>
For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.<br/>
Refuse we not to lend a ready foot<br/>
At such inviting: haste we to ascend,<br/>
Before it darken: for we may not then,<br/>
Till morn again return.” So spake my guide;<br/>
And to one ladder both address’d our steps;<br/>
And the first stair approaching, I perceiv’d<br/>
Near me as ’twere the waving of a wing,<br/>
That fann’d my face and whisper’d: “Blessed they<br/>
The peacemakers: they know not evil wrath.”<br/>
<br/>
Now to such height above our heads were rais’d<br/>
The last beams, follow’d close by hooded night,<br/>
That many a star on all sides through the gloom<br/>
Shone out. “Why partest from me, O my strength?”<br/>
So with myself I commun’d; for I felt<br/>
My o’ertoil’d sinews slacken. We had reach’d<br/>
The summit, and were fix’d like to a bark<br/>
Arriv’d at land. And waiting a short space,<br/>
If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,<br/>
Then to my guide I turn’d, and said: “Lov’d sire!<br/>
Declare what guilt is on this circle purg’d.<br/>
If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause.”<br/>
<br/>
He thus to me: “The love of good, whate’er<br/>
Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.<br/>
Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter’d ill.<br/>
But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,<br/>
Give ear unto my words, and thou shalt cull<br/>
Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.<br/>
<br/>
“Creator, nor created being, ne’er,<br/>
My son,” he thus began, “was without love,<br/>
Or natural, or the free spirit’s growth.<br/>
Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still<br/>
Is without error; but the other swerves,<br/>
If on ill object bent, or through excess<br/>
Of vigour, or defect. While e’er it seeks<br/>
The primal blessings, or with measure due<br/>
Th’ inferior, no delight, that flows from it,<br/>
Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,<br/>
Or with more ardour than behooves, or less.<br/>
Pursue the good, the thing created then<br/>
Works ’gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer<br/>
That love is germin of each virtue in ye,<br/>
And of each act no less, that merits pain.<br/>
Now since it may not be, but love intend<br/>
The welfare mainly of the thing it loves,<br/>
All from self-hatred are secure; and since<br/>
No being can be thought t’ exist apart<br/>
And independent of the first, a bar<br/>
Of equal force restrains from hating that.<br/>
<br/>
“Grant the distinction just; and it remains<br/>
The’ evil must be another’s, which is lov’d.<br/>
Three ways such love is gender’d in your clay.<br/>
There is who hopes (his neighbour’s worth deprest,)<br/>
Preeminence himself, and coverts hence<br/>
For his own greatness that another fall.<br/>
There is who so much fears the loss of power,<br/>
Fame, favour, glory (should his fellow mount<br/>
Above him), and so sickens at the thought,<br/>
He loves their opposite: and there is he,<br/>
Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame<br/>
That he doth thirst for vengeance, and such needs<br/>
Must doat on other’s evil. Here beneath<br/>
This threefold love is mourn’d. Of th’ other sort<br/>
Be now instructed, that which follows good<br/>
But with disorder’d and irregular course.<br/>
<br/>
“All indistinctly apprehend a bliss<br/>
On which the soul may rest, the hearts of all<br/>
Yearn after it, and to that wished bourn<br/>
All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold<br/>
Or seek it with a love remiss and lax,<br/>
This cornice after just repenting lays<br/>
Its penal torment on ye. Other good<br/>
There is, where man finds not his happiness:<br/>
It is not true fruition, not that blest<br/>
Essence, of every good the branch and root.<br/>
The love too lavishly bestow’d on this,<br/>
Along three circles over us, is mourn’d.<br/>
Account of that division tripartite<br/>
Expect not, fitter for thine own research.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.18"></a>CANTO XVIII</h2>

<p>
The teacher ended, and his high discourse<br/>
Concluding, earnest in my looks inquir’d<br/>
If I appear’d content; and I, whom still<br/>
Unsated thirst to hear him urg’d, was mute,<br/>
Mute outwardly, yet inwardly I said:<br/>
“Perchance my too much questioning offends.”<br/>
But he, true father, mark’d the secret wish<br/>
By diffidence restrain’d, and speaking, gave<br/>
Me boldness thus to speak: “Master, my Sight<br/>
Gathers so lively virtue from thy beams,<br/>
That all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.<br/>
Wherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heart<br/>
Holds dearest! thou wouldst deign by proof t’ unfold<br/>
That love, from which as from their source thou bring’st<br/>
All good deeds and their opposite.” He then:<br/>
“To what I now disclose be thy clear ken<br/>
Directed, and thou plainly shalt behold<br/>
How much those blind have err’d, who make themselves<br/>
The guides of men. The soul, created apt<br/>
To love, moves versatile which way soe’er<br/>
Aught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is wak’d<br/>
By pleasure into act. Of substance true<br/>
Your apprehension forms its counterfeit,<br/>
And in you the ideal shape presenting<br/>
Attracts the soul’s regard. If she, thus drawn,<br/>
incline toward it, love is that inclining,<br/>
And a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.<br/>
Then as the fire points up, and mounting seeks<br/>
His birth-place and his lasting seat, e’en thus<br/>
Enters the captive soul into desire,<br/>
Which is a spiritual motion, that ne’er rests<br/>
Before enjoyment of the thing it loves.<br/>
Enough to show thee, how the truth from those<br/>
Is hidden, who aver all love a thing<br/>
Praise-worthy in itself: although perhaps<br/>
Its substance seem still good. Yet if the wax<br/>
Be good, it follows not th’ impression must.”<br/>
“What love is,” I return’d, “thy words, O guide!<br/>
And my own docile mind, reveal. Yet thence<br/>
New doubts have sprung. For from without if love<br/>
Be offer’d to us, and the spirit knows<br/>
No other footing, tend she right or wrong,<br/>
Is no desert of hers.” He answering thus:<br/>
“What reason here discovers I have power<br/>
To show thee: that which lies beyond, expect<br/>
From Beatrice, faith not reason’s task.<br/>
Spirit, substantial form, with matter join’d<br/>
Not in confusion mix’d, hath in itself<br/>
Specific virtue of that union born,<br/>
Which is not felt except it work, nor prov’d<br/>
But through effect, as vegetable life<br/>
By the green leaf. From whence his intellect<br/>
Deduced its primal notices of things,<br/>
Man therefore knows not, or his appetites<br/>
Their first affections; such in you, as zeal<br/>
In bees to gather honey; at the first,<br/>
Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise.<br/>
But o’er each lower faculty supreme,<br/>
That as she list are summon’d to her bar,<br/>
Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice<br/>
Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep<br/>
The threshold of assent. Here is the source,<br/>
Whence cause of merit in you is deriv’d,<br/>
E’en as the affections good or ill she takes,<br/>
Or severs, winnow’d as the chaff. Those men<br/>
Who reas’ning went to depth profoundest, mark’d<br/>
That innate freedom, and were thence induc’d<br/>
To leave their moral teaching to the world.<br/>
Grant then, that from necessity arise<br/>
All love that glows within you; to dismiss<br/>
Or harbour it, the pow’r is in yourselves.<br/>
Remember, Beatrice, in her style,<br/>
Denominates free choice by eminence<br/>
The noble virtue, if in talk with thee<br/>
She touch upon that theme.” The moon, well nigh<br/>
To midnight hour belated, made the stars<br/>
Appear to wink and fade; and her broad disk<br/>
Seem’d like a crag on fire, as up the vault<br/>
That course she journey’d, which the sun then warms,<br/>
When they of Rome behold him at his set.<br/>
Betwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.<br/>
And now the weight, that hung upon my thought,<br/>
Was lighten’d by the aid of that clear spirit,<br/>
Who raiseth Andes above Mantua’s name.<br/>
I therefore, when my questions had obtain’d<br/>
Solution plain and ample, stood as one<br/>
Musing in dreary slumber; but not long<br/>
Slumber’d; for suddenly a multitude,
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/18-87.jpg">
<img src="images/18-87.jpg" width="553" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
The steep already turning, from behind,<br/>
Rush’d on. With fury and like random rout,<br/>
As echoing on their shores at midnight heard<br/>
Ismenus and Asopus, for his Thebes<br/>
If Bacchus’ help were needed; so came these<br/>
Tumultuous, curving each his rapid step,<br/>
By eagerness impell’d of holy love.<br/>
<br/>
Soon they o’ertook us; with such swiftness mov’d<br/>
The mighty crowd. Two spirits at their head<br/>
Cried weeping; “Blessed Mary sought with haste<br/>
The hilly region. Caesar to subdue<br/>
Ilerda, darted in Marseilles his sting,<br/>
And flew to Spain.”&mdash;“Oh tarry not: away;”<br/>
The others shouted; “let not time be lost<br/>
Through slackness of affection. Hearty zeal<br/>
To serve reanimates celestial grace.”<br/>
<br/>
“O ye, in whom intenser fervency<br/>
Haply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail’d,<br/>
Slow or neglectful, to absolve your part<br/>
Of good and virtuous, this man, who yet lives,<br/>
(Credit my tale, though strange) desires t’ ascend,<br/>
So morning rise to light us. Therefore say<br/>
Which hand leads nearest to the rifted rock?”<br/>
<br/>
So spake my guide, to whom a shade return’d:<br/>
“Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.<br/>
We may not linger: such resistless will<br/>
Speeds our unwearied course. Vouchsafe us then<br/>
Thy pardon, if our duty seem to thee<br/>
Discourteous rudeness. In Verona I<br/>
Was abbot of San Zeno, when the hand<br/>
Of Barbarossa grasp’d Imperial sway,<br/>
That name, ne’er utter’d without tears in Milan.<br/>
And there is he, hath one foot in his grave,<br/>
Who for that monastery ere long shall weep,<br/>
Ruing his power misus’d: for that his son,<br/>
Of body ill compact, and worse in mind,<br/>
And born in evil, he hath set in place<br/>
Of its true pastor.” Whether more he spake,<br/>
Or here was mute, I know not: he had sped<br/>
E’en now so far beyond us. Yet thus much<br/>
I heard, and in rememb’rance treasur’d it.<br/>
<br/>
He then, who never fail’d me at my need,<br/>
Cried, “Hither turn. Lo! two with sharp remorse<br/>
Chiding their sin!” In rear of all the troop<br/>
These shouted: “First they died, to whom the sea<br/>
Open’d, or ever Jordan saw his heirs:<br/>
And they, who with Aeneas to the end<br/>
Endur’d not suffering, for their portion chose<br/>
Life without glory.” Soon as they had fled<br/>
Past reach of sight, new thought within me rose<br/>
By others follow’d fast, and each unlike<br/>
Its fellow: till led on from thought to thought,<br/>
And pleasur’d with the fleeting train, mine eye<br/>
Was clos’d, and meditation chang’d to dream.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.19"></a>CANTO XIX</h2>

<p>
It was the hour, when of diurnal heat<br/>
No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,<br/>
O’erpower’d by earth, or planetary sway<br/>
Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees<br/>
His Greater Fortune up the east ascend,<br/>
Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;<br/>
When ’fore me in my dream a woman’s shape<br/>
There came, with lips that stammer’d, eyes aslant,<br/>
Distorted feet, hands maim’d, and colour pale.<br/>
<br/>
I look’d upon her; and as sunshine cheers<br/>
Limbs numb’d by nightly cold, e’en thus my look<br/>
Unloos’d her tongue, next in brief space her form<br/>
Decrepit rais’d erect, and faded face<br/>
With love’s own hue illum’d. Recov’ring speech<br/>
She forthwith warbling such a strain began,<br/>
That I, how loth soe’er, could scarce have held<br/>
Attention from the song. “I,” thus she sang,<br/>
“I am the Siren, she, whom mariners<br/>
On the wide sea are wilder’d when they hear:<br/>
Such fulness of delight the list’ner feels.<br/>
I from his course Ulysses by my lay<br/>
Enchanted drew. Whoe’er frequents me once<br/>
Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart<br/>
Contented knows no void.” Or ere her mouth<br/>
Was clos’d, to shame her at her side appear’d<br/>
A dame of semblance holy. With stern voice<br/>
She utter’d; “Say, O Virgil, who is this?”<br/>
Which hearing, he approach’d, with eyes still bent<br/>
Toward that goodly presence: th’ other seiz’d her,<br/>
And, her robes tearing, open’d her before,<br/>
And show’d the belly to me, whence a smell,<br/>
Exhaling loathsome, wak’d me. Round I turn’d<br/>
Mine eyes, and thus the teacher: “At the least<br/>
Three times my voice hath call’d thee. Rise, begone.<br/>
Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass.”<br/>
<br/>
I straightway rose. Now day, pour’d down from high,<br/>
Fill’d all the circuits of the sacred mount;<br/>
And, as we journey’d, on our shoulder smote<br/>
The early ray. I follow’d, stooping low<br/>
My forehead, as a man, o’ercharg’d with thought,<br/>
Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,<br/>
That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,<br/>
“Come, enter here,” in tone so soft and mild,<br/>
As never met the ear on mortal strand.<br/>
<br/>
With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up,<br/>
Who thus had spoken marshal’d us along,<br/>
Where each side of the solid masonry<br/>
The sloping, walls retir’d; then mov’d his plumes,<br/>
And fanning us, affirm’d that those, who mourn,<br/>
Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.<br/>
<br/>
“What aileth thee, that still thou look’st to earth?”<br/>
Began my leader; while th’ angelic shape<br/>
A little over us his station took.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/19-51.jpg">
<img src="images/19-51.jpg" width="550" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“New vision,” I replied, “hath rais’d in me<br/>
Surmizings strange and anxious doubts, whereon<br/>
My soul intent allows no other thought<br/>
Or room or entrance.”&mdash;“Hast thou seen,” said he,<br/>
“That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone<br/>
The spirits o’er us weep for? Hast thou seen<br/>
How man may free him of her bonds? Enough.<br/>
Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais’d ken<br/>
Fix on the lure, which heav’n’s eternal King<br/>
Whirls in the rolling spheres.” As on his feet<br/>
The falcon first looks down, then to the sky<br/>
Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food,<br/>
That woos him thither; so the call I heard,<br/>
So onward, far as the dividing rock<br/>
Gave way, I journey’d, till the plain was reach’d.<br/>
<br/>
On the fifth circle when I stood at large,<br/>
A race appear’d before me, on the ground<br/>
All downward lying prone and weeping sore.<br/>
“My soul hath cleaved to the dust,” I heard<br/>
With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak’d the words.<br/>
“O ye elect of God, whose penal woes<br/>
Both hope and justice mitigate, direct<br/>
Tow’rds the steep rising our uncertain way.”<br/>
<br/>
“If ye approach secure from this our doom,<br/>
Prostration&mdash;and would urge your course with speed,<br/>
See that ye still to rightward keep the brink.”<br/>
<br/>
So them the bard besought; and such the words,<br/>
Beyond us some short space, in answer came.<br/>
<br/>
I noted what remain’d yet hidden from them:<br/>
Thence to my liege’s eyes mine eyes I bent,<br/>
And he, forthwith interpreting their suit,<br/>
Beckon’d his glad assent. Free then to act,<br/>
As pleas’d me, I drew near, and took my stand<br/>
O`er that shade, whose words I late had mark’d.<br/>
And, “Spirit!” I said, “in whom repentant tears<br/>
Mature that blessed hour, when thou with God<br/>
Shalt find acceptance, for a while suspend<br/>
For me that mightier care. Say who thou wast,<br/>
Why thus ye grovel on your bellies prone,<br/>
And if in aught ye wish my service there,<br/>
Whence living I am come.” He answering spake<br/>
“The cause why Heav’n our back toward his cope<br/>
Reverses, shalt thou know: but me know first<br/>
The successor of Peter, and the name<br/>
And title of my lineage from that stream,<br/>
That’ twixt Chiaveri and Siestri draws<br/>
His limpid waters through the lowly glen.<br/>
A month and little more by proof I learnt,<br/>
With what a weight that robe of sov’reignty<br/>
Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mire<br/>
Would guard it: that each other fardel seems<br/>
But feathers in the balance. Late, alas!<br/>
Was my conversion: but when I became<br/>
Rome’s pastor, I discern’d at once the dream<br/>
And cozenage of life, saw that the heart<br/>
Rested not there, and yet no prouder height<br/>
Lur’d on the climber: wherefore, of that life<br/>
No more enamour’d, in my bosom love<br/>
Of purer being kindled. For till then<br/>
I was a soul in misery, alienate<br/>
From God, and covetous of all earthly things;<br/>
Now, as thou seest, here punish’d for my doting.<br/>
Such cleansing from the taint of avarice<br/>
Do spirits converted need. This mount inflicts<br/>
No direr penalty. E’en as our eyes<br/>
Fasten’d below, nor e’er to loftier clime<br/>
Were lifted, thus hath justice level’d us<br/>
Here on the earth. As avarice quench’d our love<br/>
Of good, without which is no working, thus<br/>
Here justice holds us prison’d, hand and foot<br/>
Chain’d down and bound, while heaven’s just Lord shall please.<br/>
So long to tarry motionless outstretch’d.”<br/>
<br/>
My knees I stoop’d, and would have spoke; but he,<br/>
Ere my beginning, by his ear perceiv’d<br/>
I did him reverence; and “What cause,” said he,<br/>
“Hath bow’d thee thus!”&mdash;“Compunction,” I rejoin’d.<br/>
“And inward awe of your high dignity.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/19-131.jpg">
<img src="images/19-131.jpg" width="549" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“Up,” he exclaim’d, “brother! upon thy feet<br/>
Arise: err not: thy fellow servant I,<br/>
(Thine and all others’) of one Sovran Power.<br/>
If thou hast ever mark’d those holy sounds<br/>
Of gospel truth, ‘nor shall be given ill marriage,’<br/>
Thou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.<br/>
Go thy ways now; and linger here no more.<br/>
Thy tarrying is a let unto the tears,<br/>
With which I hasten that whereof thou spak’st.<br/>
I have on earth a kinswoman; her name<br/>
Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill<br/>
Example of our house corrupt her not:<br/>
And she is all remaineth of me there.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.20"></a>CANTO XX</h2>

<p>
Ill strives the will, ’gainst will more wise that strives<br/>
His pleasure therefore to mine own preferr’d,<br/>
I drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.<br/>
<br/>
Onward I mov’d: he also onward mov’d,<br/>
Who led me, coasting still, wherever place<br/>
Along the rock was vacant, as a man<br/>
Walks near the battlements on narrow wall.<br/>
For those on th’ other part, who drop by drop<br/>
Wring out their all-infecting malady,<br/>
Too closely press the verge. Accurst be thou!<br/>
Inveterate wolf! whose gorge ingluts more prey,<br/>
Than every beast beside, yet is not fill’d!<br/>
So bottomless thy maw!&mdash;Ye spheres of heaven!<br/>
To whom there are, as seems, who attribute<br/>
All change in mortal state, when is the day<br/>
Of his appearing, for whom fate reserves<br/>
To chase her hence? &mdash;With wary steps and slow<br/>
We pass’d; and I attentive to the shades,<br/>
Whom piteously I heard lament and wail;
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/20-17.jpg">
<img src="images/20-17.jpg" width="554" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
And, ’midst the wailing, one before us heard<br/>
Cry out “O blessed Virgin!” as a dame<br/>
In the sharp pangs of childbed; and “How poor<br/>
Thou wast,” it added, “witness that low roof<br/>
Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.<br/>
O good Fabricius! thou didst virtue choose<br/>
With poverty, before great wealth with vice.”<br/>
<br/>
The words so pleas’d me, that desire to know<br/>
The spirit, from whose lip they seem’d to come,<br/>
Did draw me onward. Yet it spake the gift<br/>
Of Nicholas, which on the maidens he<br/>
Bounteous bestow’d, to save their youthful prime<br/>
Unblemish’d. “Spirit! who dost speak of deeds<br/>
So worthy, tell me who thou was,” I said,<br/>
“And why thou dost with single voice renew<br/>
Memorial of such praise. That boon vouchsaf’d<br/>
Haply shall meet reward; if I return<br/>
To finish the Short pilgrimage of life,<br/>
Still speeding to its close on restless wing.”<br/>
<br/>
“I,” answer’d he, “will tell thee, not for hell,<br/>
Which thence I look for; but that in thyself<br/>
Grace so exceeding shines, before thy time<br/>
Of mortal dissolution. I was root<br/>
Of that ill plant, whose shade such poison sheds<br/>
O’er all the Christian land, that seldom thence<br/>
Good fruit is gather’d. Vengeance soon should come,<br/>
Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power;<br/>
And vengeance I of heav’n’s great Judge implore.<br/>
Hugh Capet was I high: from me descend<br/>
The Philips and the Louis, of whom France<br/>
Newly is govern’d; born of one, who ply’d<br/>
The slaughterer’s trade at Paris. When the race<br/>
Of ancient kings had vanish’d (all save one<br/>
Wrapt up in sable weeds) within my gripe<br/>
I found the reins of empire, and such powers<br/>
Of new acquirement, with full store of friends,<br/>
That soon the widow’d circlet of the crown<br/>
Was girt upon the temples of my son,<br/>
He, from whose bones th’ anointed race begins.<br/>
Till the great dower of Provence had remov’d<br/>
The stains, that yet obscur’d our lowly blood,<br/>
Its sway indeed was narrow, but howe’er<br/>
It wrought no evil: there, with force and lies,<br/>
Began its rapine; after, for amends,<br/>
Poitou it seiz’d, Navarre and Gascony.<br/>
To Italy came Charles, and for amends<br/>
Young Conradine an innocent victim slew,<br/>
And sent th’ angelic teacher back to heav’n,<br/>
Still for amends. I see the time at hand,<br/>
That forth from France invites another Charles<br/>
To make himself and kindred better known.<br/>
Unarm’d he issues, saving with that lance,<br/>
Which the arch-traitor tilted with; and that<br/>
He carries with so home a thrust, as rives<br/>
The bowels of poor Florence. No increase<br/>
Of territory hence, but sin and shame<br/>
Shall be his guerdon, and so much the more<br/>
As he more lightly deems of such foul wrong.<br/>
I see the other, who a prisoner late<br/>
Had steps on shore, exposing to the mart<br/>
His daughter, whom he bargains for, as do<br/>
The Corsairs for their slaves. O avarice!<br/>
What canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood<br/>
So wholly to thyself, they feel no care<br/>
Of their own flesh? To hide with direr guilt<br/>
Past ill and future, lo! the flower-de-luce<br/>
Enters Alagna! in his Vicar Christ<br/>
Himself a captive, and his mockery<br/>
Acted again! Lo! lo his holy lip<br/>
The vinegar and gall once more applied!<br/>
And he ’twixt living robbers doom’d to bleed!<br/>
Lo! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty<br/>
Such violence cannot fill the measure up,<br/>
With no degree to sanction, pushes on<br/>
Into the temple his yet eager sails!<br/>
<br/>
“O sovran Master! when shall I rejoice<br/>
To see the vengeance, which thy wrath well-pleas’d<br/>
In secret silence broods?&mdash;While daylight lasts,<br/>
So long what thou didst hear of her, sole spouse<br/>
Of the Great Spirit, and on which thou turn’dst<br/>
To me for comment, is the general theme<br/>
Of all our prayers: but when it darkens, then<br/>
A different strain we utter, then record<br/>
Pygmalion, whom his gluttonous thirst of gold<br/>
Made traitor, robber, parricide: the woes<br/>
Of Midas, which his greedy wish ensued,<br/>
Mark’d for derision to all future times:<br/>
And the fond Achan, how he stole the prey,<br/>
That yet he seems by Joshua’s ire pursued.<br/>
Sapphira with her husband next, we blame;<br/>
And praise the forefeet, that with furious ramp<br/>
Spurn’d Heliodorus. All the mountain round<br/>
Rings with the infamy of Thracia’s king,<br/>
Who slew his Phrygian charge: and last a shout<br/>
Ascends: “Declare, O Crassus! for thou know’st,<br/>
The flavour of thy gold.” The voice of each<br/>
Now high now low, as each his impulse prompts,<br/>
Is led through many a pitch, acute or grave.<br/>
Therefore, not singly, I erewhile rehears’d<br/>
That blessedness we tell of in the day:<br/>
But near me none beside his accent rais’d.”<br/>
<br/>
From him we now had parted, and essay’d<br/>
With utmost efforts to surmount the way,<br/>
When I did feel, as nodding to its fall,<br/>
The mountain tremble; whence an icy chill<br/>
Seiz’d on me, as on one to death convey’d.<br/>
So shook not Delos, when Latona there<br/>
Couch’d to bring forth the twin-born eyes of heaven.<br/>
<br/>
Forthwith from every side a shout arose<br/>
So vehement, that suddenly my guide<br/>
Drew near, and cried: “Doubt not, while I conduct thee.”<br/>
“Glory!” all shouted (such the sounds mine ear<br/>
Gather’d from those, who near me swell’d the sounds)<br/>
“Glory in the highest be to God.” We stood<br/>
Immovably suspended, like to those,<br/>
The shepherds, who first heard in Bethlehem’s field<br/>
That song: till ceas’d the trembling, and the song<br/>
Was ended: then our hallow’d path resum’d,<br/>
Eying the prostrate shadows, who renew’d<br/>
Their custom’d mourning. Never in my breast<br/>
Did ignorance so struggle with desire<br/>
Of knowledge, if my memory do not err,<br/>
As in that moment; nor through haste dar’d I<br/>
To question, nor myself could aught discern,<br/>
So on I far’d in thoughtfulness and dread.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.21"></a>CANTO XXI</h2>

<p>
The natural thirst, ne’er quench’d but from the well,<br/>
Whereof the woman of Samaria crav’d,<br/>
Excited: haste along the cumber’d path,<br/>
After my guide, impell’d; and pity mov’d<br/>
My bosom for the ’vengeful deed, though just.<br/>
When lo! even as Luke relates, that Christ<br/>
Appear’d unto the two upon their way,<br/>
New-risen from his vaulted grave; to us<br/>
A shade appear’d, and after us approach’d,<br/>
Contemplating the crowd beneath its feet.<br/>
We were not ware of it; so first it spake,<br/>
Saying, “God give you peace, my brethren!” then<br/>
Sudden we turn’d: and Virgil such salute,<br/>
As fitted that kind greeting, gave, and cried:<br/>
“Peace in the blessed council be thy lot<br/>
Awarded by that righteous court, which me<br/>
To everlasting banishment exiles!”<br/>
<br/>
“How!” he exclaim’d, nor from his speed meanwhile<br/>
Desisting, “If that ye be spirits, whom God<br/>
Vouchsafes not room above, who up the height<br/>
Has been thus far your guide?” To whom the bard:<br/>
“If thou observe the tokens, which this man<br/>
Trac’d by the finger of the angel bears,<br/>
’Tis plain that in the kingdom of the just<br/>
He needs must share. But sithence she, whose wheel<br/>
Spins day and night, for him not yet had drawn<br/>
That yarn, which, on the fatal distaff pil’d,<br/>
Clotho apportions to each wight that breathes,<br/>
His soul, that sister is to mine and thine,<br/>
Not of herself could mount, for not like ours<br/>
Her ken: whence I, from forth the ample gulf<br/>
Of hell was ta’en, to lead him, and will lead<br/>
Far as my lore avails. But, if thou know,<br/>
Instruct us for what cause, the mount erewhile<br/>
Thus shook and trembled: wherefore all at once<br/>
Seem’d shouting, even from his wave-wash’d foot.”<br/>
<br/>
That questioning so tallied with my wish,<br/>
The thirst did feel abatement of its edge<br/>
E’en from expectance. He forthwith replied,<br/>
“In its devotion nought irregular<br/>
This mount can witness, or by punctual rule<br/>
Unsanction’d; here from every change exempt.<br/>
Other than that, which heaven in itself<br/>
Doth of itself receive, no influence<br/>
Can reach us. Tempest none, shower, hail or snow,<br/>
Hoar frost or dewy moistness, higher falls<br/>
Than that brief scale of threefold steps: thick clouds<br/>
Nor scudding rack are ever seen: swift glance<br/>
Ne’er lightens, nor Thaumantian Iris gleams,<br/>
That yonder often shift on each side heav’n.<br/>
Vapour adust doth never mount above<br/>
The highest of the trinal stairs, whereon<br/>
Peter’s vicegerent stands. Lower perchance,<br/>
With various motion rock’d, trembles the soil:<br/>
But here, through wind in earth’s deep hollow pent,<br/>
I know not how, yet never trembled: then<br/>
Trembles, when any spirit feels itself<br/>
So purified, that it may rise, or move<br/>
For rising, and such loud acclaim ensues.<br/>
Purification by the will alone<br/>
Is prov’d, that free to change society<br/>
Seizes the soul rejoicing in her will.<br/>
Desire of bliss is present from the first;<br/>
But strong propension hinders, to that wish<br/>
By the just ordinance of heav’n oppos’d;<br/>
Propension now as eager to fulfil<br/>
Th’ allotted torment, as erewhile to sin.<br/>
And I who in this punishment had lain<br/>
Five hundred years and more, but now have felt<br/>
Free wish for happier clime. Therefore thou felt’st<br/>
The mountain tremble, and the spirits devout<br/>
Heard’st, over all his limits, utter praise<br/>
To that liege Lord, whom I entreat their joy<br/>
To hasten.” Thus he spake: and since the draught<br/>
Is grateful ever as the thirst is keen,<br/>
No words may speak my fullness of content.<br/>
<br/>
“Now,” said the instructor sage, “I see the net<br/>
That takes ye here, and how the toils are loos’d,<br/>
Why rocks the mountain and why ye rejoice.<br/>
Vouchsafe, that from thy lips I next may learn,<br/>
Who on the earth thou wast, and wherefore here<br/>
So many an age wert prostrate.”&mdash;“In that time,<br/>
When the good Titus, with Heav’n’s King to help,<br/>
Aveng’d those piteous gashes, whence the blood<br/>
By Judas sold did issue, with the name<br/>
Most lasting and most honour’d there was I<br/>
Abundantly renown’d,” the shade reply’d,<br/>
“Not yet with faith endued. So passing sweet<br/>
My vocal Spirit, from Tolosa, Rome<br/>
To herself drew me, where I merited<br/>
A myrtle garland to inwreathe my brow.<br/>
Statius they name me still. Of Thebes I sang,<br/>
And next of great Achilles: but i’ th’ way<br/>
Fell with the second burthen. Of my flame<br/>
Those sparkles were the seeds, which I deriv’d<br/>
From the bright fountain of celestial fire<br/>
That feeds unnumber’d lamps, the song I mean<br/>
Which sounds Aeneas’ wand’rings: that the breast<br/>
I hung at, that the nurse, from whom my veins<br/>
Drank inspiration: whose authority<br/>
Was ever sacred with me. To have liv’d<br/>
Coeval with the Mantuan, I would bide<br/>
The revolution of another sun<br/>
Beyond my stated years in banishment.”<br/>
<br/>
The Mantuan, when he heard him, turn’d to me,<br/>
And holding silence: by his countenance<br/>
Enjoin’d me silence but the power which wills,<br/>
Bears not supreme control: laughter and tears<br/>
Follow so closely on the passion prompts them,<br/>
They wait not for the motions of the will<br/>
In natures most sincere. I did but smile,<br/>
As one who winks; and thereupon the shade<br/>
Broke off, and peer’d into mine eyes, where best<br/>
Our looks interpret. “So to good event<br/>
Mayst thou conduct such great emprize,” he cried,<br/>
“Say, why across thy visage beam’d, but now,<br/>
The lightning of a smile!” On either part<br/>
Now am I straiten’d; one conjures me speak,<br/>
Th’ other to silence binds me: whence a sigh<br/>
I utter, and the sigh is heard. “Speak on;”<br/>
The teacher cried; “and do not fear to speak,<br/>
But tell him what so earnestly he asks.”<br/>
Whereon I thus: “Perchance, O ancient spirit!<br/>
Thou marvel’st at my smiling. There is room<br/>
For yet more wonder. He who guides my ken<br/>
On high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom<br/>
Thou didst presume of men and gods to sing.<br/>
If other cause thou deem’dst for which I smil’d,<br/>
Leave it as not the true one; and believe<br/>
Those words, thou spak’st of him, indeed the cause.”<br/>
<br/>
Now down he bent t’ embrace my teacher’s feet;<br/>
But he forbade him: “Brother! do it not:<br/>
Thou art a shadow, and behold’st a shade.”<br/>
He rising answer’d thus: “Now hast thou prov’d<br/>
The force and ardour of the love I bear thee,<br/>
When I forget we are but things of air,<br/>
And as a substance treat an empty shade.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.22"></a>CANTO XXII</h2>

<p>
Now we had left the angel, who had turn’d<br/>
To the sixth circle our ascending step,<br/>
One gash from off my forehead raz’d: while they,<br/>
Whose wishes tend to justice, shouted forth:<br/>
“Blessed!” and ended with, “I thirst:” and I,<br/>
More nimble than along the other straits,<br/>
So journey’d, that, without the sense of toil,<br/>
I follow’d upward the swift-footed shades;<br/>
When Virgil thus began: “Let its pure flame<br/>
From virtue flow, and love can never fail<br/>
To warm another’s bosom’ so the light<br/>
Shine manifestly forth. Hence from that hour,<br/>
When ’mongst us in the purlieus of the deep,<br/>
Came down the spirit of Aquinum’s hard,<br/>
Who told of thine affection, my good will<br/>
Hath been for thee of quality as strong<br/>
As ever link’d itself to one not seen.<br/>
Therefore these stairs will now seem short to me.<br/>
But tell me: and if too secure I loose<br/>
The rein with a friend’s license, as a friend<br/>
Forgive me, and speak now as with a friend:<br/>
How chanc’d it covetous desire could find<br/>
Place in that bosom, ’midst such ample store<br/>
Of wisdom, as thy zeal had treasur’d there?”<br/>
<br/>
First somewhat mov’d to laughter by his words,<br/>
Statius replied: “Each syllable of thine<br/>
Is a dear pledge of love. Things oft appear<br/>
That minister false matters to our doubts,<br/>
When their true causes are remov’d from sight.<br/>
Thy question doth assure me, thou believ’st<br/>
I was on earth a covetous man, perhaps<br/>
Because thou found’st me in that circle plac’d.<br/>
Know then I was too wide of avarice:<br/>
And e’en for that excess, thousands of moons<br/>
Have wax’d and wan’d upon my sufferings.<br/>
And were it not that I with heedful care<br/>
Noted where thou exclaim’st as if in ire<br/>
With human nature, ‘Why, thou cursed thirst<br/>
Of gold! dost not with juster measure guide<br/>
The appetite of mortals?’ I had met<br/>
The fierce encounter of the voluble rock.<br/>
Then was I ware that with too ample wing<br/>
The hands may haste to lavishment, and turn’d,<br/>
As from my other evil, so from this<br/>
In penitence. How many from their grave<br/>
Shall with shorn locks arise, who living, aye<br/>
And at life’s last extreme, of this offence,<br/>
Through ignorance, did not repent. And know,<br/>
The fault which lies direct from any sin<br/>
In level opposition, here With that<br/>
Wastes its green rankness on one common heap.<br/>
Therefore if I have been with those, who wail<br/>
Their avarice, to cleanse me, through reverse<br/>
Of their transgression, such hath been my lot.”<br/>
<br/>
To whom the sovran of the pastoral song:<br/>
“While thou didst sing that cruel warfare wag’d<br/>
By the twin sorrow of Jocasta’s womb,<br/>
From thy discourse with Clio there, it seems<br/>
As faith had not been shine: without the which<br/>
Good deeds suffice not. And if so, what sun<br/>
Rose on thee, or what candle pierc’d the dark<br/>
That thou didst after see to hoist the sail,<br/>
And follow, where the fisherman had led?”<br/>
<br/>
He answering thus: “By thee conducted first,<br/>
I enter’d the Parnassian grots, and quaff’d<br/>
Of the clear spring; illumin’d first by thee<br/>
Open’d mine eyes to God. Thou didst, as one,<br/>
Who, journeying through the darkness, hears a light<br/>
Behind, that profits not himself, but makes<br/>
His followers wise, when thou exclaimedst, ‘Lo!<br/>
A renovated world! Justice return’d!<br/>
Times of primeval innocence restor’d!<br/>
And a new race descended from above!’<br/>
Poet and Christian both to thee I owed.<br/>
That thou mayst mark more clearly what I trace,<br/>
My hand shall stretch forth to inform the lines<br/>
With livelier colouring. Soon o’er all the world,<br/>
By messengers from heav’n, the true belief<br/>
Teem’d now prolific, and that word of thine<br/>
Accordant, to the new instructors chim’d.<br/>
Induc’d by which agreement, I was wont<br/>
Resort to them; and soon their sanctity<br/>
So won upon me, that, Domitian’s rage<br/>
Pursuing them, I mix’d my tears with theirs,<br/>
And, while on earth I stay’d, still succour’d them;<br/>
And their most righteous customs made me scorn<br/>
All sects besides. Before I led the Greeks<br/>
In tuneful fiction, to the streams of Thebes,<br/>
I was baptiz’d; but secretly, through fear,<br/>
Remain’d a Christian, and conform’d long time<br/>
To Pagan rites. Five centuries and more,<br/>
T for that lukewarmness was fain to pace<br/>
Round the fourth circle. Thou then, who hast rais’d<br/>
The covering, which did hide such blessing from me,<br/>
Whilst much of this ascent is yet to climb,<br/>
Say, if thou know, where our old Terence bides,<br/>
Caecilius, Plautus, Varro: if condemn’d<br/>
They dwell, and in what province of the deep.”<br/>
“These,” said my guide, “with Persius and myself,<br/>
And others many more, are with that Greek,<br/>
Of mortals, the most cherish’d by the Nine,<br/>
In the first ward of darkness. There ofttimes<br/>
We of that mount hold converse, on whose top<br/>
For aye our nurses live. We have the bard<br/>
Of Pella, and the Teian, Agatho,<br/>
Simonides, and many a Grecian else<br/>
Ingarlanded with laurel. Of thy train<br/>
Antigone is there, Deiphile,<br/>
Argia, and as sorrowful as erst<br/>
Ismene, and who show’d Langia’s wave:<br/>
Deidamia with her sisters there,<br/>
And blind Tiresias’ daughter, and the bride<br/>
Sea-born of Peleus.” Either poet now<br/>
Was silent, and no longer by th’ ascent<br/>
Or the steep walls obstructed, round them cast<br/>
Inquiring eyes. Four handmaids of the day<br/>
Had finish’d now their office, and the fifth<br/>
Was at the chariot-beam, directing still<br/>
Its balmy point aloof, when thus my guide:<br/>
“Methinks, it well behooves us to the brink<br/>
Bend the right shoulder’ circuiting the mount,<br/>
As we have ever us’d.” So custom there<br/>
Was usher to the road, the which we chose<br/>
Less doubtful, as that worthy shade complied.<br/>
<br/>
They on before me went; I sole pursued,<br/>
List’ning their speech, that to my thoughts convey’d<br/>
Mysterious lessons of sweet poesy.<br/>
But soon they ceas’d; for midway of the road<br/>
A tree we found, with goodly fruitage hung,<br/>
And pleasant to the smell: and as a fir<br/>
Upward from bough to bough less ample spreads,<br/>
So downward this less ample spread, that none.<br/>
Methinks, aloft may climb. Upon the side,<br/>
That clos’d our path, a liquid crystal fell<br/>
From the steep rock, and through the sprays above<br/>
Stream’d showering. With associate step the bards<br/>
Drew near the plant; and from amidst the leaves<br/>
A voice was heard: “Ye shall be chary of me;”<br/>
And after added: “Mary took more thought<br/>
For joy and honour of the nuptial feast,<br/>
Than for herself who answers now for you.<br/>
The women of old Rome were satisfied<br/>
With water for their beverage. Daniel fed<br/>
On pulse, and wisdom gain’d. The primal age<br/>
Was beautiful as gold; and hunger then<br/>
Made acorns tasteful, thirst each rivulet<br/>
Run nectar. Honey and locusts were the food,<br/>
Whereon the Baptist in the wilderness<br/>
Fed, and that eminence of glory reach’d<br/>
And greatness, which the’ Evangelist records.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.23"></a>CANTO XXIII</h2>

<p>
On the green leaf mine eyes were fix’d, like his<br/>
Who throws away his days in idle chase<br/>
Of the diminutive, when thus I heard<br/>
The more than father warn me: “Son! our time<br/>
Asks thriftier using. Linger not: away.”<br/>
<br/>
Thereat my face and steps at once I turn’d<br/>
Toward the sages, by whose converse cheer’d<br/>
I journey’d on, and felt no toil: and lo!<br/>
A sound of weeping and a song: “My lips,<br/>
O Lord!” and these so mingled, it gave birth<br/>
To pleasure and to pain. “O Sire, belov’d!<br/>
Say what is this I hear?” Thus I inquir’d.<br/>
<br/>
“Spirits,” said he, “who as they go, perchance,<br/>
Their debt of duty pay.” As on their road<br/>
The thoughtful pilgrims, overtaking some<br/>
Not known unto them, turn to them, and look,<br/>
But stay not; thus, approaching from behind<br/>
With speedier motion, eyed us, as they pass’d,<br/>
A crowd of spirits, silent and devout.<br/>
The eyes of each were dark and hollow: pale<br/>
Their visage, and so lean withal, the bones<br/>
Stood staring thro’ the skin. I do not think<br/>
Thus dry and meagre Erisicthon show’d,<br/>
When pinc’ed by sharp-set famine to the quick.<br/>
<br/>
“Lo!” to myself I mus’d, “the race, who lost<br/>
Jerusalem, when Mary with dire beak<br/>
Prey’d on her child.” The sockets seem’d as rings,<br/>
From which the gems were drops. Who reads the name<br/>
Of man upon his forehead, there the M<br/>
Had trac’d most plainly. Who would deem, that scent<br/>
Of water and an apple, could have prov’d<br/>
Powerful to generate such pining want,<br/>
Not knowing how it wrought? While now I stood<br/>
Wond’ring what thus could waste them (for the cause<br/>
Of their gaunt hollowness and scaly rind<br/>
Appear’d not) lo! a spirit turn’d his eyes<br/>
In their deep-sunken cell, and fasten’d then<br/>
On me, then cried with vehemence aloud:<br/>
“What grace is this vouchsaf’d me?” By his looks<br/>
I ne’er had recogniz’d him: but the voice<br/>
Brought to my knowledge what his cheer conceal’d.<br/>
Remembrance of his alter’d lineaments<br/>
Was kindled from that spark; and I agniz’d<br/>
The visage of Forese. “Ah! respect<br/>
This wan and leprous wither’d skin,” thus he<br/>
Suppliant implor’d, “this macerated flesh.<br/>
Speak to me truly of thyself. And who<br/>
Are those twain spirits, that escort thee there?<br/>
Be it not said thou Scorn’st to talk with me.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/23-47.jpg">
<img src="images/23-47.jpg" width="548" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
“That face of thine,” I answer’d him, “which dead<br/>
I once bewail’d, disposes me not less<br/>
For weeping, when I see It thus transform’d.<br/>
Say then, by Heav’n, what blasts ye thus? The whilst<br/>
I wonder, ask not Speech from me: unapt<br/>
Is he to speak, whom other will employs.”<br/>
<br/>
He thus: “The water and tee plant we pass’d,<br/>
Virtue possesses, by th’ eternal will<br/>
Infus’d, the which so pines me. Every spirit,<br/>
Whose song bewails his gluttony indulg’d<br/>
Too grossly, here in hunger and in thirst<br/>
Is purified. The odour, which the fruit,<br/>
And spray, that showers upon the verdure, breathe,<br/>
Inflames us with desire to feed and drink.<br/>
Nor once alone encompassing our route<br/>
We come to add fresh fuel to the pain:<br/>
Pain, said I? solace rather: for that will<br/>
To the tree leads us, by which Christ was led<br/>
To call Elias, joyful when he paid<br/>
Our ransom from his vein.” I answering thus:<br/>
“Forese! from that day, in which the world<br/>
For better life thou changedst, not five years<br/>
Have circled. If the power of sinning more<br/>
Were first concluded in thee, ere thou knew’st<br/>
That kindly grief, which re-espouses us<br/>
To God, how hither art thou come so soon?<br/>
I thought to find thee lower, there, where time<br/>
Is recompense for time.” He straight replied:<br/>
“To drink up the sweet wormwood of affliction<br/>
I have been brought thus early by the tears<br/>
Stream’d down my Nella’s cheeks. Her prayers devout,<br/>
Her sighs have drawn me from the coast, where oft<br/>
Expectance lingers, and have set me free<br/>
From th’ other circles. In the sight of God<br/>
So much the dearer is my widow priz’d,<br/>
She whom I lov’d so fondly, as she ranks<br/>
More singly eminent for virtuous deeds.<br/>
The tract most barb’rous of Sardinia’s isle,<br/>
Hath dames more chaste and modester by far<br/>
Than that wherein I left her. O sweet brother!<br/>
What wouldst thou have me say? A time to come<br/>
Stands full within my view, to which this hour<br/>
Shall not be counted of an ancient date,<br/>
When from the pulpit shall be loudly warn’d<br/>
Th’ unblushing dames of Florence, lest they bare<br/>
Unkerchief’d bosoms to the common gaze.<br/>
What savage women hath the world e’er seen,<br/>
What Saracens, for whom there needed scourge<br/>
Of spiritual or other discipline,<br/>
To force them walk with cov’ring on their limbs!<br/>
But did they see, the shameless ones, that Heav’n<br/>
Wafts on swift wing toward them, while I speak,<br/>
Their mouths were op’d for howling: they shall taste<br/>
Of Borrow (unless foresight cheat me here)<br/>
Or ere the cheek of him be cloth’d with down<br/>
Who is now rock’d with lullaby asleep.<br/>
Ah! now, my brother, hide thyself no more,<br/>
Thou seest how not I alone but all<br/>
Gaze, where thou veil’st the intercepted sun.”<br/>
<br/>
Whence I replied: “If thou recall to mind<br/>
What we were once together, even yet<br/>
Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore.<br/>
That I forsook that life, was due to him<br/>
Who there precedes me, some few evenings past,<br/>
When she was round, who shines with sister lamp<br/>
To his, that glisters yonder,” and I show’d<br/>
The sun. “Tis he, who through profoundest night<br/>
Of he true dead has brought me, with this flesh<br/>
As true, that follows. From that gloom the aid<br/>
Of his sure comfort drew me on to climb,<br/>
And climbing wind along this mountain-steep,<br/>
Which rectifies in you whate’er the world<br/>
Made crooked and deprav’d I have his word,<br/>
That he will bear me company as far<br/>
As till I come where Beatrice dwells:<br/>
But there must leave me. Virgil is that spirit,<br/>
Who thus hath promis’d,” and I pointed to him;<br/>
“The other is that shade, for whom so late<br/>
Your realm, as he arose, exulting shook<br/>
Through every pendent cliff and rocky bound.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.24"></a>CANTO XXIV</h2>

<p>
Our journey was not slacken’d by our talk,<br/>
Nor yet our talk by journeying. Still we spake,<br/>
And urg’d our travel stoutly, like a ship<br/>
When the wind sits astern. The shadowy forms,
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/24-4.jpg">
<img src="images/24-4.jpg" width="562" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
That seem’d things dead and dead again, drew in<br/>
At their deep-delved orbs rare wonder of me,<br/>
Perceiving I had life; and I my words<br/>
Continued, and thus spake; “He journeys up<br/>
Perhaps more tardily then else he would,<br/>
For others’ sake. But tell me, if thou know’st,<br/>
Where is Piccarda? Tell me, if I see<br/>
Any of mark, among this multitude,<br/>
Who eye me thus.”&mdash;“My sister (she for whom,<br/>
’Twixt beautiful and good I cannot say<br/>
Which name was fitter ) wears e’en now her crown,<br/>
And triumphs in Olympus.” Saying this,<br/>
He added: “Since spare diet hath so worn<br/>
Our semblance out, ’t is lawful here to name<br/>
Each one. This,” and his finger then he rais’d,<br/>
“Is Buonaggiuna,&mdash;Buonaggiuna, he<br/>
Of Lucca: and that face beyond him, pierc’d<br/>
Unto a leaner fineness than the rest,<br/>
Had keeping of the church: he was of Tours,<br/>
And purges by wan abstinence away<br/>
Bolsena’s eels and cups of muscadel.”<br/>
<br/>
He show’d me many others, one by one,<br/>
And all, as they were nam’d, seem’d well content;<br/>
For no dark gesture I discern’d in any.<br/>
I saw through hunger Ubaldino grind<br/>
His teeth on emptiness; and Boniface,<br/>
That wav’d the crozier o’er a num’rous flock.<br/>
I saw the Marquis, who tad time erewhile<br/>
To swill at Forli with less drought, yet so<br/>
Was one ne’er sated. I howe’er, like him,<br/>
That gazing ’midst a crowd, singles out one,<br/>
So singled him of Lucca; for methought<br/>
Was none amongst them took such note of me.<br/>
Somewhat I heard him whisper of Gentucca:<br/>
The sound was indistinct, and murmur’d there,<br/>
Where justice, that so strips them, fix’d her sting.<br/>
<br/>
“Spirit!” said I, “it seems as thou wouldst fain<br/>
Speak with me. Let me hear thee. Mutual wish<br/>
To converse prompts, which let us both indulge.”<br/>
<br/>
He, answ’ring, straight began: “Woman is born,<br/>
Whose brow no wimple shades yet, that shall make<br/>
My city please thee, blame it as they may.<br/>
Go then with this forewarning. If aught false<br/>
My whisper too implied, th’ event shall tell<br/>
But say, if of a truth I see the man<br/>
Of that new lay th’ inventor, which begins<br/>
With ‘Ladies, ye that con the lore of love’.”<br/>
<br/>
To whom I thus: “Count of me but as one<br/>
Who am the scribe of love; that, when he breathes,<br/>
Take up my pen, and, as he dictates, write.”<br/>
<br/>
“Brother!” said he, “the hind’rance which once held<br/>
The notary with Guittone and myself,<br/>
Short of that new and sweeter style I hear,<br/>
Is now disclos’d. I see how ye your plumes<br/>
Stretch, as th’ inditer guides them; which, no question,<br/>
Ours did not. He that seeks a grace beyond,<br/>
Sees not the distance parts one style from other.”<br/>
And, as contented, here he held his peace.<br/>
<br/>
Like as the bird, that winter near the Nile,<br/>
In squared regiment direct their course,<br/>
Then stretch themselves in file for speedier flight;<br/>
Thus all the tribe of spirits, as they turn’d<br/>
Their visage, faster deaf, nimble alike<br/>
Through leanness and desire. And as a man,<br/>
Tir’d With the motion of a trotting steed,<br/>
Slacks pace, and stays behind his company,<br/>
Till his o’erbreathed lungs keep temperate time;<br/>
E’en so Forese let that holy crew<br/>
Proceed, behind them lingering at my side,<br/>
And saying: “When shall I again behold thee?”<br/>
<br/>
“How long my life may last,” said I, “I know not;<br/>
This know, how soon soever I return,<br/>
My wishes will before me have arriv’d.<br/>
Sithence the place, where I am set to live,<br/>
Is, day by day, more scoop’d of all its good,<br/>
And dismal ruin seems to threaten it.”<br/>
<br/>
“Go now,” he cried: “lo! he, whose guilt is most,<br/>
Passes before my vision, dragg’d at heels<br/>
Of an infuriate beast. Toward the vale,<br/>
Where guilt hath no redemption, on it speeds,<br/>
Each step increasing swiftness on the last;<br/>
Until a blow it strikes, that leaveth him<br/>
A corse most vilely shatter’d. No long space<br/>
Those wheels have yet to roll” (therewith his eyes<br/>
Look’d up to heav’n) “ere thou shalt plainly see<br/>
That which my words may not more plainly tell.<br/>
I quit thee: time is precious here: I lose<br/>
Too much, thus measuring my pace with shine.”<br/>
<br/>
As from a troop of well-rank’d chivalry<br/>
One knight, more enterprising than the rest,<br/>
Pricks forth at gallop, eager to display<br/>
His prowess in the first encounter prov’d<br/>
So parted he from us with lengthen’d strides,<br/>
And left me on the way with those twain spirits,<br/>
Who were such mighty marshals of the world.<br/>
<br/>
When he beyond us had so fled mine eyes<br/>
No nearer reach’d him, than my thought his words,<br/>
The branches of another fruit, thick hung,<br/>
And blooming fresh, appear’d. E’en as our steps<br/>
Turn’d thither, not far off it rose to view.<br/>
Beneath it were a multitude, that rais’d<br/>
Their hands, and shouted forth I know not What<br/>
Unto the boughs; like greedy and fond brats,<br/>
That beg, and answer none obtain from him,<br/>
Of whom they beg; but more to draw them on,<br/>
He at arm’s length the object of their wish<br/>
Above them holds aloft, and hides it not.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/24-112.jpg">
<img src="images/24-112.jpg" width="548" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
At length, as undeceiv’d they went their way:<br/>
And we approach the tree, who vows and tears<br/>
Sue to in vain, the mighty tree. “Pass on,<br/>
And come not near. Stands higher up the wood,<br/>
Whereof Eve tasted, and from it was ta’en<br/>
‘this plant.” Such sounds from midst the thickets came.<br/>
Whence I, with either bard, close to the side<br/>
That rose, pass’d forth beyond. “Remember,” next<br/>
We heard, “those noblest creatures of the clouds,<br/>
How they their twofold bosoms overgorg’d<br/>
Oppos’d in fight to Theseus: call to mind<br/>
The Hebrews, how effeminate they stoop’d<br/>
To ease their thirst; whence Gideon’s ranks were thinn’d,<br/>
As he to Midian march’d adown the hills.”<br/>
<br/>
Thus near one border coasting, still we heard<br/>
The sins of gluttony, with woe erewhile<br/>
Reguerdon’d. Then along the lonely path,<br/>
Once more at large, full thousand paces on<br/>
We travel’d, each contemplative and mute.<br/>
<br/>
“Why pensive journey thus ye three alone?”<br/>
Thus suddenly a voice exclaim’d: whereat<br/>
I shook, as doth a scar’d and paltry beast;<br/>
Then rais’d my head to look from whence it came.<br/>
<br/>
Was ne’er, in furnace, glass, or metal seen<br/>
So bright and glowing red, as was the shape<br/>
I now beheld. “If ye desire to mount,”<br/>
He cried, “here must ye turn. This way he goes,<br/>
Who goes in quest of peace.” His countenance<br/>
Had dazzled me; and to my guides I fac’d<br/>
Backward, like one who walks, as sound directs.<br/>
<br/>
As when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up<br/>
On freshen’d wing the air of May, and breathes<br/>
Of fragrance, all impregn’d with herb and flowers,<br/>
E’en such a wind I felt upon my front<br/>
Blow gently, and the moving of a wing<br/>
Perceiv’d, that moving shed ambrosial smell;<br/>
And then a voice: “Blessed are they, whom grace<br/>
Doth so illume, that appetite in them<br/>
Exhaleth no inordinate desire,<br/>
Still hung’ring as the rule of temperance wills.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.25"></a>CANTO XXV</h2>

<p>
It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need<br/>
To walk uncrippled: for the sun had now<br/>
To Taurus the meridian circle left,<br/>
And to the Scorpion left the night. As one<br/>
That makes no pause, but presses on his road,<br/>
Whate’er betide him, if some urgent need<br/>
Impel: so enter’d we upon our way,<br/>
One before other; for, but singly, none<br/>
That steep and narrow scale admits to climb.<br/>
<br/>
E’en as the young stork lifteth up his wing<br/>
Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit<br/>
The nest, and drops it; so in me desire<br/>
Of questioning my guide arose, and fell,<br/>
Arriving even to the act, that marks<br/>
A man prepar’d for speech. Him all our haste<br/>
Restrain’d not, but thus spake the sire belov’d:<br/>
“Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip<br/>
Stands trembling for its flight.” Encourag’d thus<br/>
I straight began: “How there can leanness come,<br/>
Where is no want of nourishment to feed?”<br/>
<br/>
“If thou,” he answer’d, “hadst remember’d thee,<br/>
How Meleager with the wasting brand<br/>
Wasted alike, by equal fires consum’d,<br/>
This would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought,<br/>
How in the mirror your reflected form<br/>
With mimic motion vibrates, what now seems<br/>
Hard, had appear’d no harder than the pulp<br/>
Of summer fruit mature. But that thy will<br/>
In certainty may find its full repose,<br/>
Lo Statius here! on him I call, and pray<br/>
That he would now be healer of thy wound.”<br/>
<br/>
“If in thy presence I unfold to him<br/>
The secrets of heaven’s vengeance, let me plead<br/>
Thine own injunction, to exculpate me.”<br/>
So Statius answer’d, and forthwith began:<br/>
“Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind<br/>
Receive them: so shall they be light to clear<br/>
The doubt thou offer’st. Blood, concocted well,<br/>
Which by the thirsty veins is ne’er imbib’d,<br/>
And rests as food superfluous, to be ta’en<br/>
From the replenish’d table, in the heart<br/>
Derives effectual virtue, that informs<br/>
The several human limbs, as being that,<br/>
Which passes through the veins itself to make them.<br/>
Yet more concocted it descends, where shame<br/>
Forbids to mention: and from thence distils<br/>
In natural vessel on another’s blood.<br/>
Then each unite together, one dispos’d<br/>
T’ endure, to act the other, through meet frame<br/>
Of its recipient mould: that being reach’d,<br/>
It ’gins to work, coagulating first;<br/>
Then vivifies what its own substance caus’d<br/>
To bear. With animation now indued,<br/>
The active virtue (differing from a plant<br/>
No further, than that this is on the way<br/>
And at its limit that) continues yet<br/>
To operate, that now it moves, and feels,<br/>
As sea sponge clinging to the rock: and there<br/>
Assumes th’ organic powers its seed convey’d.<br/>
‘This is the period, son! at which the virtue,<br/>
That from the generating heart proceeds,<br/>
Is pliant and expansive; for each limb<br/>
Is in the heart by forgeful nature plann’d.<br/>
How babe of animal becomes, remains<br/>
For thy consid’ring. At this point, more wise,<br/>
Than thou hast err’d, making the soul disjoin’d<br/>
From passive intellect, because he saw<br/>
No organ for the latter’s use assign’d.<br/>
<br/>
“Open thy bosom to the truth that comes.<br/>
Know soon as in the embryo, to the brain,<br/>
Articulation is complete, then turns<br/>
The primal Mover with a smile of joy<br/>
On such great work of nature, and imbreathes<br/>
New spirit replete with virtue, that what here<br/>
Active it finds, to its own substance draws,<br/>
And forms an individual soul, that lives,<br/>
And feels, and bends reflective on itself.<br/>
And that thou less mayst marvel at the word,<br/>
Mark the sun’s heat, how that to wine doth change,<br/>
Mix’d with the moisture filter’d through the vine.<br/>
<br/>
“When Lachesis hath spun the thread, the soul<br/>
Takes with her both the human and divine,<br/>
Memory, intelligence, and will, in act<br/>
Far keener than before, the other powers<br/>
Inactive all and mute. No pause allow’d,<br/>
In wond’rous sort self-moving, to one strand<br/>
Of those, where the departed roam, she falls,<br/>
Here learns her destin’d path. Soon as the place<br/>
Receives her, round the plastic virtue beams,<br/>
Distinct as in the living limbs before:<br/>
And as the air, when saturate with showers,<br/>
The casual beam refracting, decks itself<br/>
With many a hue; so here the ambient air<br/>
Weareth that form, which influence of the soul<br/>
Imprints on it; and like the flame, that where<br/>
The fire moves, thither follows, so henceforth<br/>
The new form on the spirit follows still:<br/>
Hence hath it semblance, and is shadow call’d,<br/>
With each sense even to the sight endued:<br/>
Hence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs<br/>
Which thou mayst oft have witness’d on the mount<br/>
Th’ obedient shadow fails not to present<br/>
Whatever varying passion moves within us.<br/>
And this the cause of what thou marvel’st at.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/25-107.jpg">
<img src="images/25-107.jpg" width="540" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Now the last flexure of our way we reach’d,<br/>
And to the right hand turning, other care<br/>
Awaits us. Here the rocky precipice<br/>
Hurls forth redundant flames, and from the rim<br/>
A blast upblown, with forcible rebuff<br/>
Driveth them back, sequester’d from its bound.<br/>
<br/>
Behoov’d us, one by one, along the side,<br/>
That border’d on the void, to pass; and I<br/>
Fear’d on one hand the fire, on th’ other fear’d<br/>
Headlong to fall: when thus th’ instructor warn’d:<br/>
“Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes.<br/>
A little swerving and the way is lost.”
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/25-117.jpg">
<img src="images/25-117.jpg" width="549" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Then from the bosom of the burning mass,<br/>
“O God of mercy!” heard I sung; and felt<br/>
No less desire to turn. And when I saw<br/>
Spirits along the flame proceeding, I<br/>
Between their footsteps and mine own was fain<br/>
To share by turns my view. At the hymn’s close<br/>
They shouted loud, “I do not know a man;”<br/>
Then in low voice again took up the strain,<br/>
Which once more ended, “To the wood,” they cried,<br/>
“Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto, stung<br/>
With Cytherea’s poison:” then return’d<br/>
Unto their song; then marry a pair extoll’d,<br/>
Who liv’d in virtue chastely, and the bands<br/>
Of wedded love. Nor from that task, I ween,<br/>
Surcease they; whilesoe’er the scorching fire<br/>
Enclasps them. Of such skill appliance needs<br/>
To medicine the wound, that healeth last.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/25-119.jpg">
<img src="images/25-119.jpg" width="559" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.26"></a>CANTO XXVI</h2>

<p>
While singly thus along the rim we walk’d,<br/>
Oft the good master warn’d me: “Look thou well.<br/>
Avail it that I caution thee.” The sun<br/>
Now all the western clime irradiate chang’d<br/>
From azure tinct to white; and, as I pass’d,<br/>
My passing shadow made the umber’d flame<br/>
Burn ruddier. At so strange a sight I mark’d<br/>
That many a spirit marvel’d on his way.<br/>
<br/>
This bred occasion first to speak of me,<br/>
“He seems,” said they, “no insubstantial frame:”<br/>
Then to obtain what certainty they might,<br/>
Stretch’d towards me, careful not to overpass<br/>
The burning pale. “O thou, who followest<br/>
The others, haply not more slow than they,<br/>
But mov’d by rev’rence, answer me, who burn<br/>
In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these<br/>
All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth<br/>
Indian or Aethiop for the cooling stream.<br/>
Tell us, how is it that thou mak’st thyself<br/>
A wall against the sun, as thou not yet<br/>
Into th’ inextricable toils of death<br/>
Hadst enter’d?” Thus spake one, and I had straight<br/>
Declar’d me, if attention had not turn’d<br/>
To new appearance. Meeting these, there came,<br/>
Midway the burning path, a crowd, on whom<br/>
Earnestly gazing, from each part I view<br/>
The shadows all press forward, sev’rally<br/>
Each snatch a hasty kiss, and then away.<br/>
E’en so the emmets, ’mid their dusky troops,<br/>
Peer closely one at other, to spy out<br/>
Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.<br/>
<br/>
That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch<br/>
Of the first onward step, from either tribe<br/>
Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come,<br/>
Shout “Sodom and Gomorrah!” these, “The cow<br/>
Pasiphae enter’d, that the beast she woo’d<br/>
Might rush unto her luxury.” Then as cranes,<br/>
That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly,<br/>
Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid<br/>
The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off<br/>
One crowd, advances th’ other; and resume<br/>
Their first song weeping, and their several shout.<br/>
<br/>
Again drew near my side the very same,<br/>
Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks<br/>
Mark’d eagerness to listen. I, who twice<br/>
Their will had noted, spake: “O spirits secure,<br/>
Whene’er the time may be, of peaceful end!<br/>
My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age,<br/>
Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed<br/>
With blood, and sinew-strung. That I no more<br/>
May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft.<br/>
There is a dame on high, who wind for us<br/>
This grace, by which my mortal through your realm<br/>
I bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet<br/>
Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven,<br/>
Fullest of love, and of most ample space,<br/>
Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page<br/>
Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are,<br/>
And what this multitude, that at your backs<br/>
Have past behind us.” As one, mountain-bred,<br/>
Rugged and clownish, if some city’s walls<br/>
He chance to enter, round him stares agape,<br/>
Confounded and struck dumb; e’en such appear’d<br/>
Each spirit. But when rid of that amaze,<br/>
(Not long the inmate of a noble heart)<br/>
He, who before had question’d, thus resum’d:<br/>
“O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak’st<br/>
Experience of our limits, in thy bark!<br/>
Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that,<br/>
For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard<br/>
The snout of ‘queen,’ to taunt him. Hence their cry<br/>
Of ‘Sodom,’ as they parted, to rebuke<br/>
Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame.<br/>
Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we,<br/>
Because the law of human kind we broke,<br/>
Following like beasts our vile concupiscence,<br/>
Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace<br/>
Record the name of her, by whom the beast<br/>
In bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds<br/>
Thou know’st, and how we sinn’d. If thou by name<br/>
Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now<br/>
To tell so much, nor can I. Of myself<br/>
Learn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I,<br/>
Who having truly sorrow’d ere my last,<br/>
Already cleanse me.” With such pious joy,<br/>
As the two sons upon their mother gaz’d<br/>
From sad Lycurgus rescu’d, such my joy<br/>
(Save that I more represt it) when I heard<br/>
From his own lips the name of him pronounc’d,<br/>
Who was a father to me, and to those<br/>
My betters, who have ever us’d the sweet<br/>
And pleasant rhymes of love. So nought I heard<br/>
Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went,<br/>
Gazing on him; and, only for the fire,<br/>
Approach’d not nearer. When my eyes were fed<br/>
By looking on him, with such solemn pledge,<br/>
As forces credence, I devoted me<br/>
Unto his service wholly. In reply<br/>
He thus bespake me: “What from thee I hear<br/>
Is grav’d so deeply on my mind, the waves<br/>
Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make<br/>
A whit less lively. But as now thy oath<br/>
Has seal’d the truth, declare what cause impels<br/>
That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray.”<br/>
<br/>
“Those dulcet lays,” I answer’d, “which, as long<br/>
As of our tongue the beauty does not fade,<br/>
Shall make us love the very ink that trac’d them.”<br/>
<br/>
“Brother!” he cried, and pointed at a shade<br/>
Before him, “there is one, whose mother speech<br/>
Doth owe to him a fairer ornament.<br/>
He in love ditties and the tales of prose<br/>
Without a rival stands, and lets the fools<br/>
Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges<br/>
O’ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice<br/>
They look to more than truth, and so confirm<br/>
Opinion, ere by art or reason taught.<br/>
Thus many of the elder time cried up<br/>
Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth<br/>
By strength of numbers vanquish’d. If thou own<br/>
So ample privilege, as to have gain’d<br/>
Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ<br/>
Is Abbot of the college, say to him<br/>
One paternoster for me, far as needs<br/>
For dwellers in this world, where power to sin<br/>
No longer tempts us.” Haply to make way<br/>
For one, that follow’d next, when that was said,<br/>
He vanish’d through the fire, as through the wave<br/>
A fish, that glances diving to the deep.<br/>
<br/>
I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew<br/>
A little onward, and besought his name,<br/>
For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room.<br/>
He frankly thus began: “Thy courtesy<br/>
So wins on me, I have nor power nor will<br/>
To hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs,<br/>
Sorely lamenting for my folly past,<br/>
Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see<br/>
The day, I hope for, smiling in my view.<br/>
I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up<br/>
Unto the summit of the scale, in time<br/>
Remember ye my suff’rings.” With such words<br/>
He disappear’d in the refining flame.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.27"></a>CANTO XXVII</h2>

<p>
Now was the sun so station’d, as when first<br/>
His early radiance quivers on the heights,<br/>
Where stream’d his Maker’s blood, while Libra hangs<br/>
Above Hesperian Ebro, and new fires<br/>
Meridian flash on Ganges’ yellow tide.<br/>
<br/>
So day was sinking, when the’ angel of God<br/>
Appear’d before us. Joy was in his mien.<br/>
Forth of the flame he stood upon the brink,<br/>
And with a voice, whose lively clearness far<br/>
Surpass’d our human, “Blessed are the pure<br/>
In heart,” he Sang: then near him as we came,<br/>
“Go ye not further, holy spirits!” he cried,<br/>
“Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list<br/>
Attentive to the song ye hear from thence.”<br/>
<br/>
I, when I heard his saying, was as one<br/>
Laid in the grave. My hands together clasp’d,<br/>
And upward stretching, on the fire I look’d,<br/>
And busy fancy conjur’d up the forms<br/>
Erewhile beheld alive consum’d in flames.<br/>
<br/>
Th’ escorting spirits turn’d with gentle looks<br/>
Toward me, and the Mantuan spake: “My son,<br/>
Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death.<br/>
Remember thee, remember thee, if I<br/>
Safe e’en on Geryon brought thee: now I come<br/>
More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now?<br/>
Of this be sure: though in its womb that flame<br/>
A thousand years contain’d thee, from thy head<br/>
No hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth,<br/>
Approach, and with thy hands thy vesture’s hem<br/>
Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief.<br/>
Lay now all fear, O lay all fear aside.<br/>
Turn hither, and come onward undismay’d.”<br/>
I still, though conscience urg’d’ no step advanc’d.<br/>
<br/>
When still he saw me fix’d and obstinate,<br/>
Somewhat disturb’d he cried: “Mark now, my son,<br/>
From Beatrice thou art by this wall<br/>
Divided.” As at Thisbe’s name the eye<br/>
Of Pyramus was open’d (when life ebb’d<br/>
Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance,<br/>
While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn’d<br/>
To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard<br/>
The name, that springs forever in my breast.<br/>
<br/>
He shook his forehead; and, “How long,” he said,<br/>
“Linger we now?” then smil’d, as one would smile<br/>
Upon a child, that eyes the fruit and yields.<br/>
Into the fire before me then he walk’d;<br/>
And Statius, who erewhile no little space<br/>
Had parted us, he pray’d to come behind.<br/>
<br/>
I would have cast me into molten glass<br/>
To cool me, when I enter’d; so intense<br/>
Rag’d the conflagrant mass. The sire belov’d,<br/>
To comfort me, as he proceeded, still<br/>
Of Beatrice talk’d. “Her eyes,” saith he,<br/>
“E’en now I seem to view.” From the other side<br/>
A voice, that sang, did guide us, and the voice<br/>
Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth,<br/>
There where the path led upward. “Come,” we heard,<br/>
“Come, blessed of my Father.” Such the sounds,<br/>
That hail’d us from within a light, which shone<br/>
So radiant, I could not endure the view.<br/>
“The sun,” it added, “hastes: and evening comes.<br/>
Delay not: ere the western sky is hung<br/>
With blackness, strive ye for the pass.” Our way<br/>
Upright within the rock arose, and fac’d<br/>
Such part of heav’n, that from before my steps<br/>
The beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.<br/>
<br/>
Nor many stairs were overpass, when now<br/>
By fading of the shadow we perceiv’d<br/>
The sun behind us couch’d: and ere one face<br/>
Of darkness o’er its measureless expanse<br/>
Involv’d th’ horizon, and the night her lot<br/>
Held individual, each of us had made<br/>
A stair his pallet: not that will, but power,<br/>
Had fail’d us, by the nature of that mount<br/>
Forbidden further travel. As the goats,<br/>
That late have skipp’d and wanton’d rapidly<br/>
Upon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta’en<br/>
Their supper on the herb, now silent lie<br/>
And ruminate beneath the umbrage brown,<br/>
While noonday rages; and the goatherd leans<br/>
Upon his staff, and leaning watches them:<br/>
And as the swain, that lodges out all night<br/>
In quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey<br/>
Disperse them; even so all three abode,<br/>
I as a goat and as the shepherds they,<br/>
Close pent on either side by shelving rock.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/27-97.jpg">
<img src="images/27-97.jpg" width="570" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
A little glimpse of sky was seen above;<br/>
Yet by that little I beheld the stars<br/>
In magnitude and rustle shining forth<br/>
With more than wonted glory. As I lay,<br/>
Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing,<br/>
Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft<br/>
Tidings of future hap. About the hour,<br/>
As I believe, when Venus from the east<br/>
First lighten’d on the mountain, she whose orb<br/>
Seems always glowing with the fire of love,<br/>
A lady young and beautiful, I dream’d,<br/>
Was passing o’er a lea; and, as she came,<br/>
Methought I saw her ever and anon<br/>
Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang:<br/>
“Know ye, whoever of my name would ask,<br/>
That I am Leah: for my brow to weave<br/>
A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.<br/>
To please me at the crystal mirror, here<br/>
I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she<br/>
Before her glass abides the livelong day,<br/>
Her radiant eyes beholding, charm’d no less,<br/>
Than I with this delightful task. Her joy<br/>
In contemplation, as in labour mine.”<br/>
<br/>
And now as glimm’ring dawn appear’d, that breaks<br/>
More welcome to the pilgrim still, as he<br/>
Sojourns less distant on his homeward way,<br/>
Darkness from all sides fled, and with it fled<br/>
My slumber; whence I rose and saw my guide<br/>
Already risen. “That delicious fruit,<br/>
Which through so many a branch the zealous care<br/>
Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day<br/>
Appease thy hunger.” Such the words I heard<br/>
From Virgil’s lip; and never greeting heard<br/>
So pleasant as the sounds. Within me straight<br/>
Desire so grew upon desire to mount,<br/>
Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings<br/>
Increasing for my flight. When we had run<br/>
O’er all the ladder to its topmost round,<br/>
As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix’d<br/>
His eyes, and thus he spake: “Both fires, my son,<br/>
The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen,<br/>
And art arriv’d, where of itself my ken<br/>
No further reaches. I with skill and art<br/>
Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take<br/>
For guide. Thou hast o’ercome the steeper way,<br/>
O’ercome the straighter. Lo! the sun, that darts<br/>
His beam upon thy forehead! lo! the herb,<br/>
The arboreta and flowers, which of itself<br/>
This land pours forth profuse! Till those bright eyes<br/>
With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste<br/>
To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down,<br/>
Or wander where thou wilt. Expect no more<br/>
Sanction of warning voice or sign from me,<br/>
Free of thy own arbitrement to choose,<br/>
Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense<br/>
Were henceforth error. I invest thee then<br/>
With crown and mitre, sovereign o’er thyself.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.28"></a>CANTO XXVIII</h2>

<p>
Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade<br/>
With lively greenness the new-springing day<br/>
Attemper’d, eager now to roam, and search<br/>
Its limits round, forthwith I left the bank,<br/>
Along the champain leisurely my way<br/>
Pursuing, o’er the ground, that on all sides<br/>
Delicious odour breath’d. A pleasant air,<br/>
That intermitted never, never veer’d,<br/>
Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind<br/>
Of softest influence: at which the sprays,<br/>
Obedient all, lean’d trembling to that part<br/>
Where first the holy mountain casts his shade,<br/>
Yet were not so disorder’d, but that still<br/>
Upon their top the feather’d quiristers<br/>
Applied their wonted art, and with full joy<br/>
Welcom’d those hours of prime, and warbled shrill<br/>
Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays<br/>
inept tenor; even as from branch to branch,<br/>
Along the piney forests on the shore<br/>
Of Chiassi, rolls the gath’ring melody,<br/>
When Eolus hath from his cavern loos’d<br/>
The dripping south. Already had my steps,<br/>
Though slow, so far into that ancient wood<br/>
Transported me, I could not ken the place<br/>
Where I had enter’d, when behold! my path<br/>
Was bounded by a rill, which to the left<br/>
With little rippling waters bent the grass,<br/>
That issued from its brink. On earth no wave<br/>
How clean soe’er, that would not seem to have<br/>
Some mixture in itself, compar’d with this,<br/>
Transpicuous, clear; yet darkly on it roll’d,<br/>
Darkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne’er<br/>
Admits or sun or moon light there to shine.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/28-22.jpg">
<img src="images/28-22.jpg" width="545" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
My feet advanc’d not; but my wond’ring eyes<br/>
Pass’d onward, o’er the streamlet, to survey<br/>
The tender May-bloom, flush’d through many a hue,<br/>
In prodigal variety: and there,<br/>
As object, rising suddenly to view,<br/>
That from our bosom every thought beside<br/>
With the rare marvel chases, I beheld<br/>
A lady all alone, who, singing, went,<br/>
And culling flower from flower, wherewith her way<br/>
Was all o’er painted. “Lady beautiful!<br/>
Thou, who (if looks, that use to speak the heart,<br/>
Are worthy of our trust), with love’s own beam<br/>
Dost warm thee,” thus to her my speech I fram’d:<br/>
“Ah! please thee hither towards the streamlet bend<br/>
Thy steps so near, that I may list thy song.<br/>
Beholding thee and this fair place, methinks,<br/>
I call to mind where wander’d and how look’d<br/>
Proserpine, in that season, when her child<br/>
The mother lost, and she the bloomy spring.”<br/>
<br/>
As when a lady, turning in the dance,<br/>
Doth foot it featly, and advances scarce<br/>
One step before the other to the ground;<br/>
Over the yellow and vermilion flowers<br/>
Thus turn’d she at my suit, most maiden-like,<br/>
Valing her sober eyes, and came so near,<br/>
That I distinctly caught the dulcet sound.<br/>
Arriving where the limped waters now<br/>
Lav’d the green sward, her eyes she deign’d to raise,<br/>
That shot such splendour on me, as I ween<br/>
Ne’er glanced from Cytherea’s, when her son<br/>
Had sped his keenest weapon to her heart.<br/>
Upon the opposite bank she stood and smil’d<br/>
through her graceful fingers shifted still<br/>
The intermingling dyes, which without seed<br/>
That lofty land unbosoms. By the stream<br/>
Three paces only were we sunder’d: yet<br/>
The Hellespont, where Xerxes pass’d it o’er,<br/>
(A curb for ever to the pride of man)<br/>
Was by Leander not more hateful held<br/>
For floating, with inhospitable wave<br/>
’Twixt Sestus and Abydos, than by me<br/>
That flood, because it gave no passage thence.<br/>
<br/>
“Strangers ye come, and haply in this place,<br/>
That cradled human nature in its birth,<br/>
Wond’ring, ye not without suspicion view<br/>
My smiles: but that sweet strain of psalmody,<br/>
‘Thou, Lord! hast made me glad,’ will give ye light,<br/>
Which may uncloud your minds. And thou, who stand’st<br/>
The foremost, and didst make thy suit to me,<br/>
Say if aught else thou wish to hear: for I<br/>
Came prompt to answer every doubt of thine.”<br/>
<br/>
She spake; and I replied: “I know not how<br/>
To reconcile this wave and rustling sound<br/>
Of forest leaves, with what I late have heard<br/>
Of opposite report.” She answering thus:<br/>
“I will unfold the cause, whence that proceeds,<br/>
Which makes thee wonder; and so purge the cloud<br/>
That hath enwraps thee. The First Good, whose joy<br/>
Is only in himself, created man<br/>
For happiness, and gave this goodly place,<br/>
His pledge and earnest of eternal peace.<br/>
Favour’d thus highly, through his own defect<br/>
He fell, and here made short sojourn; he fell,<br/>
And, for the bitterness of sorrow, chang’d<br/>
Laughter unblam’d and ever-new delight.<br/>
That vapours none, exhal’d from earth beneath,<br/>
Or from the waters (which, wherever heat<br/>
Attracts them, follow), might ascend thus far<br/>
To vex man’s peaceful state, this mountain rose<br/>
So high toward the heav’n, nor fears the rage<br/>
Of elements contending, from that part<br/>
Exempted, where the gate his limit bars.<br/>
Because the circumambient air throughout<br/>
With its first impulse circles still, unless<br/>
Aught interpose to cheek or thwart its course;<br/>
Upon the summit, which on every side<br/>
To visitation of th’ impassive air<br/>
Is open, doth that motion strike, and makes<br/>
Beneath its sway th’ umbrageous wood resound:<br/>
And in the shaken plant such power resides,<br/>
That it impregnates with its efficacy<br/>
The voyaging breeze, upon whose subtle plume<br/>
That wafted flies abroad; and th’ other land<br/>
Receiving (as ’t is worthy in itself,<br/>
Or in the clime, that warms it), doth conceive,<br/>
And from its womb produces many a tree<br/>
Of various virtue. This when thou hast heard,<br/>
The marvel ceases, if in yonder earth<br/>
Some plant without apparent seed be found<br/>
To fix its fibrous stem. And further learn,<br/>
That with prolific foison of all seeds,<br/>
This holy plain is fill’d, and in itself<br/>
Bears fruit that ne’er was pluck’d on other soil.<br/>
The water, thou behold’st, springs not from vein,<br/>
As stream, that intermittently repairs<br/>
And spends his pulse of life, but issues forth<br/>
From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure;<br/>
And by the will omnific, full supply<br/>
Feeds whatsoe’er On either side it pours;<br/>
On this devolv’d with power to take away<br/>
Remembrance of offence, on that to bring<br/>
Remembrance back of every good deed done.<br/>
From whence its name of Lethe on this part;<br/>
On th’ other Eunoe: both of which must first<br/>
Be tasted ere it work; the last exceeding<br/>
All flavours else. Albeit thy thirst may now<br/>
Be well contented, if I here break off,<br/>
No more revealing: yet a corollary<br/>
I freely give beside: nor deem my words<br/>
Less grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass<br/>
The stretch of promise. They, whose verse of yore<br/>
The golden age recorded and its bliss,<br/>
On the Parnassian mountain, of this place<br/>
Perhaps had dream’d. Here was man guiltless, here<br/>
Perpetual spring and every fruit, and this<br/>
The far-fam’d nectar.” Turning to the bards,<br/>
When she had ceas’d, I noted in their looks<br/>
A smile at her conclusion; then my face<br/>
Again directed to the lovely dame.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.29"></a>CANTO XXIX</h2>

<p>
Singing, as if enamour’d, she resum’d<br/>
And clos’d the song, with “Blessed they whose sins<br/>
Are cover’d.” Like the wood-nymphs then, that tripp’d<br/>
Singly across the sylvan shadows, one<br/>
Eager to view and one to ’scape the sun,<br/>
So mov’d she on, against the current, up<br/>
The verdant rivage. I, her mincing step<br/>
Observing, with as tardy step pursued.<br/>
<br/>
Between us not an hundred paces trod,<br/>
The bank, on each side bending equally,<br/>
Gave me to face the orient. Nor our way<br/>
Far onward brought us, when to me at once<br/>
She turn’d, and cried: “My brother! look and hearken.”<br/>
And lo! a sudden lustre ran across<br/>
Through the great forest on all parts, so bright<br/>
I doubted whether lightning were abroad;<br/>
But that expiring ever in the spleen,<br/>
That doth unfold it, and this during still<br/>
And waxing still in splendor, made me question<br/>
What it might be: and a sweet melody<br/>
Ran through the luminous air. Then did I chide<br/>
With warrantable zeal the hardihood<br/>
Of our first parent, for that there were earth<br/>
Stood in obedience to the heav’ns, she only,<br/>
Woman, the creature of an hour, endur’d not<br/>
Restraint of any veil: which had she borne<br/>
Devoutly, joys, ineffable as these,<br/>
Had from the first, and long time since, been mine.<br/>
<br/>
While through that wilderness of primy sweets<br/>
That never fade, suspense I walk’d, and yet<br/>
Expectant of beatitude more high,<br/>
Before us, like a blazing fire, the air<br/>
Under the green boughs glow’d; and, for a song,<br/>
Distinct the sound of melody was heard.<br/>
<br/>
O ye thrice holy virgins! for your sakes<br/>
If e’er I suffer’d hunger, cold and watching,<br/>
Occasion calls on me to crave your bounty.<br/>
Now through my breast let Helicon his stream<br/>
Pour copious; and Urania with her choir<br/>
Arise to aid me: while the verse unfolds<br/>
Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought.<br/>
<br/>
Onward a space, what seem’d seven trees of gold,<br/>
The intervening distance to mine eye<br/>
Falsely presented; but when I was come<br/>
So near them, that no lineament was lost<br/>
Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen<br/>
Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense,<br/>
Then did the faculty, that ministers<br/>
Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold<br/>
Distinguish, and it th’ singing trace the sound<br/>
“Hosanna.” Above, their beauteous garniture<br/>
Flam’d with more ample lustre, than the moon<br/>
Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.<br/>
<br/>
I turn’d me full of wonder to my guide;<br/>
And he did answer with a countenance<br/>
Charg’d with no less amazement: whence my view<br/>
Reverted to those lofty things, which came<br/>
So slowly moving towards us, that the bride<br/>
Would have outstript them on her bridal day.<br/>
<br/>
The lady called aloud: “Why thus yet burns<br/>
Affection in thee for these living, lights,<br/>
And dost not look on that which follows them?”<br/>
<br/>
I straightway mark’d a tribe behind them walk,<br/>
As if attendant on their leaders, cloth’d<br/>
With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth<br/>
Was never. On my left, the wat’ry gleam<br/>
Borrow’d, and gave me back, when there I look’d.<br/>
As in a mirror, my left side portray’d.<br/>
<br/>
When I had chosen on the river’s edge<br/>
Such station, that the distance of the stream<br/>
Alone did separate me; there I stay’d<br/>
My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld<br/>
The flames go onward, leaving, as they went,<br/>
The air behind them painted as with trail<br/>
Of liveliest pencils! so distinct were mark’d<br/>
All those sev’n listed colours, whence the sun<br/>
Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone.<br/>
These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond<br/>
My vision; and ten paces, as I guess,<br/>
Parted the outermost. Beneath a sky<br/>
So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders,<br/>
By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown’d.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/29-80.jpg">
<img src="images/29-80.jpg" width="553" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
All sang one song: “Blessed be thou among<br/>
The daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness<br/>
Blessed for ever!” After that the flowers,<br/>
And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink,<br/>
Were free from that elected race; as light<br/>
In heav’n doth second light, came after them<br/>
Four animals, each crown’d with verdurous leaf.<br/>
With six wings each was plum’d, the plumage full<br/>
Of eyes, and th’ eyes of Argus would be such,<br/>
Were they endued with life. Reader, more rhymes<br/>
Will not waste in shadowing forth their form:<br/>
For other need no straitens, that in this<br/>
I may not give my bounty room. But read<br/>
Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north<br/>
How he beheld them come by Chebar’s flood,<br/>
In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such<br/>
As thou shalt find them character’d by him,<br/>
Here were they; save as to the pennons; there,<br/>
From him departing, John accords with me.<br/>
<br/>
The space, surrounded by the four, enclos’d<br/>
A car triumphal: on two wheels it came<br/>
Drawn at a Gryphon’s neck; and he above<br/>
Stretch’d either wing uplifted, ’tween the midst<br/>
And the three listed hues, on each side three;<br/>
So that the wings did cleave or injure none;<br/>
And out of sight they rose. The members, far<br/>
As he was bird, were golden; white the rest<br/>
With vermeil intervein’d. So beautiful<br/>
A car in Rome ne’er grac’d Augustus pomp,<br/>
Or Africanus’: e’en the sun’s itself<br/>
Were poor to this, that chariot of the sun<br/>
Erroneous, which in blazing ruin fell<br/>
At Tellus’ pray’r devout, by the just doom<br/>
Mysterious of all-seeing Jove. Three nymphs<br/>
at the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance;<br/>
The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce<br/>
Been known within a furnace of clear flame:<br/>
The next did look, as if the flesh and bones<br/>
Were emerald: snow new-fallen seem’d the third.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/29-118.jpg">
<img src="images/29-118.jpg" width="527" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
Now seem’d the white to lead, the ruddy now;<br/>
And from her song who led, the others took<br/>
Their treasure, swift or slow. At th’ other wheel,<br/>
A band quaternion, each in purple clad,<br/>
Advanc’d with festal step, as of them one<br/>
The rest conducted, one, upon whose front<br/>
Three eyes were seen. In rear of all this group,<br/>
Two old men I beheld, dissimilar<br/>
In raiment, but in port and gesture like,<br/>
Solid and mainly grave; of whom the one<br/>
Did show himself some favour’d counsellor<br/>
Of the great Coan, him, whom nature made<br/>
To serve the costliest creature of her tribe.<br/>
His fellow mark’d an opposite intent,<br/>
Bearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge,<br/>
E’en as I view’d it with the flood between,<br/>
Appall’d me. Next four others I beheld,<br/>
Of humble seeming: and, behind them all,<br/>
One single old man, sleeping, as he came,<br/>
With a shrewd visage. And these seven, each<br/>
Like the first troop were habited, but wore<br/>
No braid of lilies on their temples wreath’d.<br/>
Rather with roses and each vermeil flower,<br/>
A sight, but little distant, might have sworn,<br/>
That they were all on fire above their brow.<br/>
<br/>
Whenas the car was o’er against me, straight.<br/>
Was heard a thund’ring, at whose voice it seem’d<br/>
The chosen multitude were stay’d; for there,<br/>
With the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.30"></a>CANTO XXX</h2>

<p>
Soon as the polar light, which never knows<br/>
Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil<br/>
Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament<br/>
Of the first heav’n, to duty each one there<br/>
Safely convoying, as that lower doth<br/>
The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix’d;<br/>
Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van<br/>
Between the Gryphon and its radiance came,<br/>
Did turn them to the car, as to their rest:<br/>
And one, as if commission’d from above,<br/>
In holy chant thrice shorted forth aloud:<br/>
“Come, spouse, from Libanus!” and all the rest<br/>
Took up the song&mdash;At the last audit so<br/>
The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each<br/>
Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh,<br/>
As, on the sacred litter, at the voice<br/>
Authoritative of that elder, sprang<br/>
A hundred ministers and messengers<br/>
Of life eternal. “Blessed thou! who com’st!”<br/>
And, “O,” they cried, “from full hands scatter ye<br/>
Unwith’ring lilies;” and, so saying, cast<br/>
Flowers over head and round them on all sides.<br/>
<br/>
I have beheld, ere now, at break of day,<br/>
The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky<br/>
Oppos’d, one deep and beautiful serene,<br/>
And the sun’s face so shaded, and with mists<br/>
Attemper’d at lids rising, that the eye<br/>
Long while endur’d the sight: thus in a cloud<br/>
Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose,<br/>
And down, within and outside of the car,<br/>
Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath’d,<br/>
A virgin in my view appear’d, beneath<br/>
Green mantle, rob’d in hue of living flame:
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/30-32.jpg">
<img src="images/30-32.jpg" width="560" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
And o’er my Spirit, that in former days<br/>
Within her presence had abode so long,<br/>
No shudd’ring terror crept. Mine eyes no more<br/>
Had knowledge of her; yet there mov’d from her<br/>
A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak’d,<br/>
The power of ancient love was strong within me.<br/>
<br/>
No sooner on my vision streaming, smote<br/>
The heav’nly influence, which years past, and e’en<br/>
In childhood, thrill’d me, than towards Virgil I<br/>
Turn’d me to leftward, panting, like a babe,<br/>
That flees for refuge to his mother’s breast,<br/>
If aught have terrified or work’d him woe:<br/>
And would have cried: “There is no dram of blood,<br/>
That doth not quiver in me. The old flame<br/>
Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire:”<br/>
But Virgil had bereav’d us of himself,<br/>
Virgil, my best-lov’d father; Virgil, he<br/>
To whom I gave me up for safety: nor,<br/>
All, our prime mother lost, avail’d to save<br/>
My undew’d cheeks from blur of soiling tears.<br/>
<br/>
“Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay,<br/>
Weep thou not yet: behooves thee feel the edge<br/>
Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that.”<br/>
<br/>
As to the prow or stern, some admiral<br/>
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,<br/>
When ’mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof;<br/>
Thus on the left side of the car I saw,<br/>
(Turning me at the sound of mine own name,<br/>
Which here I am compell’d to register)<br/>
The virgin station’d, who before appeared<br/>
Veil’d in that festive shower angelical.<br/>
<br/>
Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;<br/>
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound<br/>
With foliage of Minerva, suffer’d not<br/>
That I beheld her clearly; then with act<br/>
Full royal, still insulting o’er her thrall,<br/>
Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back<br/>
The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:<br/>
“Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am<br/>
Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign’d at last<br/>
Approach the mountain? knewest not, O man!<br/>
Thy happiness is whole?” Down fell mine eyes<br/>
On the clear fount, but there, myself espying,<br/>
Recoil’d, and sought the greensward: such a weight<br/>
Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien<br/>
Of that stern majesty, which doth surround<br/>
mother’s presence to her awe-struck child,<br/>
She look’d; a flavour of such bitterness<br/>
Was mingled in her pity. There her words<br/>
Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang:<br/>
“In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:”<br/>
But went no farther than, “Thou Lord, hast set<br/>
My feet in ample room.” As snow, that lies<br/>
Amidst the living rafters on the back<br/>
Of Italy congeal’d when drifted high<br/>
And closely pil’d by rough Sclavonian blasts,<br/>
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,<br/>
And straightway melting it distils away,<br/>
Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,<br/>
Without a sigh or tear, or ever these<br/>
Did sing, that with the chiming of heav’n’s sphere,<br/>
Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain<br/>
Of dulcet symphony, express’d for me<br/>
Their soft compassion, more than could the words<br/>
“Virgin, why so consum’st him?” then the ice,<br/>
Congeal’d about my bosom, turn’d itself<br/>
To spirit and water, and with anguish forth<br/>
Gush’d through the lips and eyelids from the heart.<br/>
<br/>
Upon the chariot’s right edge still she stood,<br/>
Immovable, and thus address’d her words<br/>
To those bright semblances with pity touch’d:<br/>
“Ye in th’ eternal day your vigils keep,<br/>
So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,<br/>
Conveys from you a single step in all<br/>
The goings on of life: thence with more heed<br/>
I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,<br/>
Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now<br/>
May equal the transgression. Not alone<br/>
Through operation of the mighty orbs,<br/>
That mark each seed to some predestin’d aim,<br/>
As with aspect or fortunate or ill<br/>
The constellations meet, but through benign<br/>
Largess of heav’nly graces, which rain down<br/>
From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man<br/>
Was in the freshness of his being, such,<br/>
So gifted virtually, that in him<br/>
All better habits wond’rously had thriv’d.<br/>
The more of kindly strength is in the soil,<br/>
So much doth evil seed and lack of culture<br/>
Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.<br/>
These looks sometime upheld him; for I show’d<br/>
My youthful eyes, and led him by their light<br/>
In upright walking. Soon as I had reach’d<br/>
The threshold of my second age, and chang’d<br/>
My mortal for immortal, then he left me,<br/>
And gave himself to others. When from flesh<br/>
To spirit I had risen, and increase<br/>
Of beauty and of virtue circled me,<br/>
I was less dear to him, and valued less.<br/>
His steps were turn’d into deceitful ways,<br/>
Following false images of good, that make<br/>
No promise perfect. Nor avail’d me aught<br/>
To sue for inspirations, with the which,<br/>
I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,<br/>
Did call him back; of them so little reck’d him,<br/>
Such depth he fell, that all device was short<br/>
Of his preserving, save that he should view<br/>
The children of perdition. To this end<br/>
I visited the purlieus of the dead:<br/>
And one, who hath conducted him thus high,<br/>
Receiv’d my supplications urg’d with weeping.<br/>
It were a breaking of God’s high decree,<br/>
If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted<br/>
Without the cost of some repentant tear.”
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.31"></a>CANTO XXXI</h2>

<p>
“O Thou!” her words she thus without delay<br/>
Resuming, turn’d their point on me, to whom<br/>
They but with lateral edge seem’d harsh before,<br/>
“Say thou, who stand’st beyond the holy stream,<br/>
If this be true. A charge so grievous needs<br/>
Thine own avowal.” On my faculty<br/>
Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir’d<br/>
Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.<br/>
<br/>
A little space refraining, then she spake:<br/>
“What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave<br/>
On thy remembrances of evil yet<br/>
Hath done no injury.” A mingled sense<br/>
Of fear and of confusion, from my lips<br/>
Did such a “Yea” produce, as needed help<br/>
Of vision to interpret. As when breaks<br/>
In act to be discharg’d, a cross-bow bent<br/>
Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o’erstretch’d,<br/>
The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark;<br/>
Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst<br/>
Beneath the heavy load, and thus my voice<br/>
Was slacken’d on its way. She straight began:<br/>
“When my desire invited thee to love<br/>
The good, which sets a bound to our aspirings,<br/>
What bar of thwarting foss or linked chain<br/>
Did meet thee, that thou so should’st quit the hope<br/>
Of further progress, or what bait of ease<br/>
Or promise of allurement led thee on<br/>
Elsewhere, that thou elsewhere should’st rather wait?”<br/>
<br/>
A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice<br/>
To answer, hardly to these sounds my lips<br/>
Gave utterance, wailing: “Thy fair looks withdrawn,<br/>
Things present, with deceitful pleasures, turn’d<br/>
My steps aside.” She answering spake: “Hadst thou<br/>
Been silent, or denied what thou avow’st,<br/>
Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more: such eye<br/>
Observes it. But whene’er the sinner’s cheek<br/>
Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears<br/>
Of self-accusing, in our court the wheel<br/>
Of justice doth run counter to the edge.<br/>
Howe’er that thou may’st profit by thy shame<br/>
For errors past, and that henceforth more strength<br/>
May arm thee, when thou hear’st the Siren-voice,<br/>
Lay thou aside the motive to this grief,<br/>
And lend attentive ear, while I unfold<br/>
How opposite a way my buried flesh<br/>
Should have impell’d thee. Never didst thou spy<br/>
In art or nature aught so passing sweet,<br/>
As were the limbs, that in their beauteous frame<br/>
Enclos’d me, and are scatter’d now in dust.<br/>
If sweetest thing thus fail’d thee with my death,<br/>
What, afterward, of mortal should thy wish<br/>
Have tempted? When thou first hadst felt the dart<br/>
Of perishable things, in my departing<br/>
For better realms, thy wing thou should’st have prun’d<br/>
To follow me, and never stoop’d again<br/>
To ’bide a second blow for a slight girl,<br/>
Or other gaud as transient and as vain.<br/>
The new and inexperienc’d bird awaits,<br/>
Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler’s aim;<br/>
But in the sight of one, whose plumes are full,<br/>
In vain the net is spread, the arrow wing’d.”<br/>
<br/>
I stood, as children silent and asham’d<br/>
Stand, list’ning, with their eyes upon the earth,<br/>
Acknowledging their fault and self-condemn’d.<br/>
And she resum’d: “If, but to hear thus pains thee,<br/>
Raise thou thy beard, and lo! what sight shall do!”<br/>
<br/>
With less reluctance yields a sturdy holm,<br/>
Rent from its fibers by a blast, that blows<br/>
From off the pole, or from Iarbas’ land,<br/>
Than I at her behest my visage rais’d:<br/>
And thus the face denoting by the beard,<br/>
I mark’d the secret sting her words convey’d.<br/>
<br/>
No sooner lifted I mine aspect up,<br/>
Than downward sunk that vision I beheld<br/>
Of goodly creatures vanish; and mine eyes<br/>
Yet unassur’d and wavering, bent their light<br/>
On Beatrice. Towards the animal,<br/>
Who joins two natures in one form, she turn’d,<br/>
And, even under shadow of her veil,<br/>
And parted by the verdant rill, that flow’d<br/>
Between, in loveliness appear’d as much<br/>
Her former self surpassing, as on earth<br/>
All others she surpass’d. Remorseful goads<br/>
Shot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more<br/>
Its love had late beguil’d me, now the more<br/>
I Was loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote<br/>
The bitter consciousness, that on the ground<br/>
O’erpower’d I fell: and what my state was then,<br/>
She knows who was the cause. When now my strength<br/>
Flow’d back, returning outward from the heart,<br/>
The lady, whom alone I first had seen,<br/>
I found above me. “Loose me not,” she cried:<br/>
“Loose not thy hold;” and lo! had dragg’d me high<br/>
As to my neck into the stream, while she,<br/>
Still as she drew me after, swept along,<br/>
Swift as a shuttle, bounding o’er the wave.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/31-100.jpg">
<img src="images/31-100.jpg" width="541" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

<p>
The blessed shore approaching then was heard<br/>
So sweetly, “Tu asperges me,” that I<br/>
May not remember, much less tell the sound.<br/>
The beauteous dame, her arms expanding, clasp’d<br/>
My temples, and immerg’d me, where ’t was fit<br/>
The wave should drench me: and thence raising up,<br/>
Within the fourfold dance of lovely nymphs<br/>
Presented me so lav’d, and with their arm<br/>
They each did cover me. “Here are we nymphs,<br/>
And in the heav’n are stars. Or ever earth<br/>
Was visited of Beatrice, we<br/>
Appointed for her handmaids, tended on her.<br/>
We to her eyes will lead thee; but the light<br/>
Of gladness that is in them, well to scan,<br/>
Those yonder three, of deeper ken than ours,<br/>
Thy sight shall quicken.” Thus began their song;<br/>
And then they led me to the Gryphon’s breast,<br/>
While, turn’d toward us, Beatrice stood.<br/>
“Spare not thy vision. We have stationed thee<br/>
Before the emeralds, whence love erewhile<br/>
Hath drawn his weapons on thee.” As they spake,<br/>
A thousand fervent wishes riveted<br/>
Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood<br/>
Still fix’d toward the Gryphon motionless.<br/>
As the sun strikes a mirror, even thus<br/>
Within those orbs the twofold being, shone,<br/>
For ever varying, in one figure now<br/>
Reflected, now in other. Reader! muse<br/>
How wond’rous in my sight it seem’d to mark<br/>
A thing, albeit steadfast in itself,<br/>
Yet in its imag’d semblance mutable.<br/>
<br/>
Full of amaze, and joyous, while my soul<br/>
Fed on the viand, whereof still desire<br/>
Grows with satiety, the other three<br/>
With gesture, that declar’d a loftier line,<br/>
Advanc’d: to their own carol on they came<br/>
Dancing in festive ring angelical.<br/>
<br/>
“Turn, Beatrice!” was their song: “O turn<br/>
Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one,<br/>
Who to behold thee many a wearisome pace<br/>
Hath measur’d. Gracious at our pray’r vouchsafe<br/>
Unveil to him thy cheeks: that he may mark<br/>
Thy second beauty, now conceal’d.” O splendour!<br/>
O sacred light eternal! who is he<br/>
So pale with musing in Pierian shades,<br/>
Or with that fount so lavishly imbued,<br/>
Whose spirit should not fail him in th’ essay<br/>
To represent thee such as thou didst seem,<br/>
When under cope of the still-chiming heaven<br/>
Thou gav’st to open air thy charms reveal’d.
</p>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.32"></a>CANTO XXXII</h2>

<p>
Mine eyes with such an eager coveting,<br/>
Were bent to rid them of their ten years’ thirst,<br/>
No other sense was waking: and e’en they<br/>
Were fenc’d on either side from heed of aught;<br/>
So tangled in its custom’d toils that smile<br/>
Of saintly brightness drew me to itself,<br/>
When forcibly toward the left my sight<br/>
The sacred virgins turn’d; for from their lips<br/>
I heard the warning sounds: “Too fix’d a gaze!”<br/>
<br/>
Awhile my vision labor’d; as when late<br/>
Upon the’ o’erstrained eyes the sun hath smote:<br/>
But soon to lesser object, as the view<br/>
Was now recover’d (lesser in respect<br/>
To that excess of sensible, whence late<br/>
I had perforce been sunder’d) on their right<br/>
I mark’d that glorious army wheel, and turn,<br/>
Against the sun and sev’nfold lights, their front.<br/>
As when, their bucklers for protection rais’d,<br/>
A well-rang’d troop, with portly banners curl’d,<br/>
Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground:<br/>
E’en thus the goodly regiment of heav’n<br/>
Proceeding, all did pass us, ere the car<br/>
Had slop’d his beam. Attendant at the wheels<br/>
The damsels turn’d; and on the Gryphon mov’d<br/>
The sacred burden, with a pace so smooth,<br/>
No feather on him trembled. The fair dame<br/>
Who through the wave had drawn me, companied<br/>
By Statius and myself, pursued the wheel,<br/>
Whose orbit, rolling, mark’d a lesser arch.<br/>
<br/>
Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame,<br/>
Who by the serpent was beguil’d) I past<br/>
With step in cadence to the harmony<br/>
Angelic. Onward had we mov’d, as far<br/>
Perchance as arrow at three several flights<br/>
Full wing’d had sped, when from her station down<br/>
Descended Beatrice. With one voice<br/>
All murmur’d “Adam,” circling next a plant<br/>
Despoil’d of flowers and leaf on every bough.<br/>
Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose,<br/>
Were such, as ’midst their forest wilds for height<br/>
The Indians might have gaz’d at. “Blessed thou!<br/>
Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck’d that tree<br/>
Pleasant to taste: for hence the appetite<br/>
Was warp’d to evil.” Round the stately trunk<br/>
Thus shouted forth the rest, to whom return’d<br/>
The animal twice-gender’d: “Yea: for so<br/>
The generation of the just are sav’d.”<br/>
And turning to the chariot-pole, to foot<br/>
He drew it of the widow’d branch, and bound<br/>
There left unto the stock whereon it grew.<br/>
<br/>
As when large floods of radiance from above<br/>
Stream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends<br/>
Next after setting of the scaly sign,<br/>
Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anew<br/>
His wonted colours, ere the sun have yok’d<br/>
Beneath another star his flamy steeds;<br/>
Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose,<br/>
And deeper than the violet, was renew’d<br/>
The plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.<br/>
<br/>
Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose.<br/>
I understood it not, nor to the end<br/>
Endur’d the harmony. Had I the skill<br/>
To pencil forth, how clos’d th’ unpitying eyes<br/>
Slumb’ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paid<br/>
So dearly for their watching,) then like painter,<br/>
That with a model paints, I might design<br/>
The manner of my falling into sleep.<br/>
But feign who will the slumber cunningly;<br/>
I pass it by to when I wak’d, and tell<br/>
How suddenly a flash of splendour rent<br/>
The curtain of my sleep, and one cries out:<br/>
“Arise, what dost thou?” As the chosen three,<br/>
On Tabor’s mount, admitted to behold<br/>
The blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruit<br/>
Is coveted of angels, and doth make<br/>
Perpetual feast in heaven, to themselves<br/>
Returning at the word, whence deeper sleeps<br/>
Were broken, that they their tribe diminish’d saw,<br/>
Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang’d<br/>
The stole their master wore: thus to myself<br/>
Returning, over me beheld I stand<br/>
The piteous one, who cross the stream had brought<br/>
My steps. “And where,” all doubting, I exclaim’d,<br/>
“Is Beatrice?”&mdash;“See her,” she replied,<br/>
“Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root.<br/>
Behold th’ associate choir that circles her.<br/>
The others, with a melody more sweet<br/>
And more profound, journeying to higher realms,<br/>
Upon the Gryphon tend.” If there her words<br/>
Were clos’d, I know not; but mine eyes had now<br/>
Ta’en view of her, by whom all other thoughts<br/>
Were barr’d admittance. On the very ground<br/>
Alone she sat, as she had there been left<br/>
A guard upon the wain, which I beheld<br/>
Bound to the twyform beast. The seven nymphs<br/>
Did make themselves a cloister round about her,<br/>
And in their hands upheld those lights secure<br/>
From blast septentrion and the gusty south.<br/>
<br/>
“A little while thou shalt be forester here:<br/>
And citizen shalt be forever with me,<br/>
Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a Roman<br/>
To profit the misguided world, keep now<br/>
Thine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest,<br/>
Take heed thou write, returning to that place.”<br/>
<br/>
Thus Beatrice: at whose feet inclin’d<br/>
Devout, at her behest, my thought and eyes,<br/>
I, as she bade, directed. Never fire,<br/>
With so swift motion, forth a stormy cloud<br/>
Leap’d downward from the welkin’s farthest bound,<br/>
As I beheld the bird of Jove descending<br/>
Pounce on the tree, and, as he rush’d, the rind,<br/>
Disparting crush beneath him, buds much more<br/>
And leaflets. On the car with all his might<br/>
He struck, whence, staggering like a ship, it reel’d,<br/>
At random driv’n, to starboard now, o’ercome,<br/>
And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.<br/>
<br/>
Next springing up into the chariot’s womb<br/>
A fox I saw, with hunger seeming pin’d<br/>
Of all good food. But, for his ugly sins<br/>
The saintly maid rebuking him, away<br/>
Scamp’ring he turn’d, fast as his hide-bound corpse<br/>
Would bear him. Next, from whence before he came,<br/>
I saw the eagle dart into the hull<br/>
O’ th’ car, and leave it with his feathers lin’d;<br/>
And then a voice, like that which issues forth<br/>
From heart with sorrow riv’d, did issue forth<br/>
From heav’n, and, “O poor bark of mine!” it cried,<br/>
“How badly art thou freighted!” Then, it seem’d,<br/>
That the earth open’d between either wheel,<br/>
And I beheld a dragon issue thence,<br/>
That through the chariot fix’d his forked train;<br/>
And like a wasp that draggeth back the sting,<br/>
So drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg’d<br/>
Part of the bottom forth, and went his way<br/>
Exulting. What remain’d, as lively turf<br/>
With green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes,<br/>
Which haply had with purpose chaste and kind<br/>
Been offer’d; and therewith were cloth’d the wheels,<br/>
Both one and other, and the beam, so quickly<br/>
A sigh were not breath’d sooner. Thus transform’d,<br/>
The holy structure, through its several parts,<br/>
Did put forth heads, three on the beam, and one<br/>
On every side; the first like oxen horn’d,<br/>
But with a single horn upon their front<br/>
The four. Like monster sight hath never seen.<br/>
O’er it methought there sat, secure as rock<br/>
On mountain’s lofty top, a shameless whore,<br/>
Whose ken rov’d loosely round her. At her side,<br/>
As ’t were that none might bear her off, I saw<br/>
A giant stand; and ever, and anon<br/>
They mingled kisses. But, her lustful eyes<br/>
Chancing on me to wander, that fell minion<br/>
Scourg’d her from head to foot all o’er; then full<br/>
Of jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloos’d<br/>
The monster, and dragg’d on, so far across<br/>
The forest, that from me its shades alone<br/>
Shielded the harlot and the new-form’d brute.
</p>

<div class="fig" style="width:100%;">
<a href="images/32-148.jpg">
<img src="images/32-148.jpg" width="563" height="600" alt="" /></a>
</div>

</div><!--end chapter-->

<div class="chapter">

<h2><a name="cantoII.33"></a>CANTO XXXIII</h2>

<p>
“The heathen, Lord! are come!” responsive thus,<br/>
The trinal now, and now the virgin band<br/>
Quaternion, their sweet psalmody began,<br/>
Weeping; and Beatrice listen’d, sad<br/>
And sighing, to the song’, in such a mood,<br/>
That Mary, as she stood beside the cross,<br/>
Was scarce more chang’d. But when they gave her place<br/>
To speak, then, risen upright on her feet,<br/>
She, with a colour glowing bright as fire,<br/>
Did answer: “Yet a little while, and ye<br/>
Shall see me not; and, my beloved sisters,<br/>
Again a little while, and ye shall see me.”<br/>
<br/>
Before her then she marshall’d all the seven,<br/>
And, beck’ning only motion’d me, the dame,<br/>
And that remaining sage, to follow her.<br/>
<br/>
So on she pass’d; and had not set, I ween,<br/>
Her tenth step to the ground, when with mine eyes<br/>
Her eyes encounter’d; and, with visage mild,<br/>
“So mend thy pace,” she cried, “that if my words<br/>
Address thee, thou mayst still be aptly plac’d<br/>
To hear them.” Soon as duly to her side<br/>
I now had hasten’d: “Brother!” she began,<br/>
“Why mak’st thou no attempt at questioning,<br/>
As thus we walk together?” Like to those<br/>
Who, speaking with too reverent an awe<br/>
Before their betters, draw not forth the voice<br/>
Alive unto their lips, befell me shell<br/>
That I in sounds imperfect thus began:<br/>
“Lady! what I have need of, that thou know’st,<br/>
And what will suit my need.” She answering thus:<br/>
“Of fearfulness and shame, I will, that thou<br/>
Henceforth do rid thee: that thou speak no more,<br/>
As one who dreams. Thus far be taught of me:<br/>
The vessel, which thou saw’st the serpent break,<br/>
Was and is not: let him, who hath the blame,<br/>
Hope not to scare God’s vengeance with a sop.<br/>
Without an heir for ever shall not be<br/>
That eagle, he, who left the chariot plum’d,<br/>
Which monster made it first and next a prey.<br/>
Plainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars<br/>
E’en now approaching, whose conjunction, free<br/>
From all impediment and bar, brings on<br/>
A season, in the which, one sent from God,<br/>
(Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out)<br/>
That foul one, and th’ accomplice of her guilt,<br/>
The giant, both shall slay. And if perchance<br/>
My saying, dark as Themis or as Sphinx,<br/>
Fail to persuade thee, (since like them it foils<br/>
The intellect with blindness) yet ere long<br/>
Events shall be the Naiads, that will solve<br/>
This knotty riddle, and no damage light<br/>
On flock or field. Take heed; and as these words<br/>
By me are utter’d, teach them even so<br/>
To those who live that life, which is a race<br/>
To death: and when thou writ’st them, keep in mind<br/>
Not to conceal how thou hast seen the plant,<br/>
That twice hath now been spoil’d. This whoso robs,<br/>
This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed<br/>
Sins against God, who for his use alone<br/>
Creating hallow’d it. For taste of this,<br/>
In pain and in desire, five thousand years<br/>
And upward, the first soul did yearn for him,<br/>
Who punish’d in himself the fatal gust.<br/>
<br/>
“Thy reason slumbers, if it deem this height<br/>
And summit thus inverted of the plant,<br/>
Without due cause: and were not vainer thoughts,<br/>
As Elsa’s numbing waters, to thy soul,<br/>
And their fond pleasures had not dyed it dark<br/>
As Pyramus the mulberry, thou hadst seen,<br/>
In such momentous circumstance alone,<br/>
God’s equal justice morally implied<br/>
In the forbidden tree. But since I mark thee<br/>
In understanding harden’d into stone,<br/>
And, to that hardness, spotted too and stain’d,<br/>
So that thine eye is dazzled at my word,<br/>
I will, that, if not written, yet at least<br/>
Painted thou take it in thee, for the cause,<br/>
That one brings home his staff inwreath’d with palm.<br/>
<br/>
I thus: “As wax by seal, that changeth not<br/>
Its impress, now is stamp’d my brain by thee.<br/>
But wherefore soars thy wish’d-for speech so high<br/>
Beyond my sight, that loses it the more,<br/>
The more it strains to reach it?”&mdash;“To the end<br/>
That thou mayst know,” she answer’d straight, “the school,<br/>
That thou hast follow’d; and how far behind,<br/>
When following my discourse, its learning halts:<br/>
And mayst behold your art, from the divine<br/>
As distant, as the disagreement is<br/>
’Twixt earth and heaven’s most high and rapturous orb.”<br/>
<br/>
“I not remember,” I replied, “that e’er<br/>
I was estrang’d from thee, nor for such fault<br/>
Doth conscience chide me.” Smiling she return’d:<br/>
“If thou canst, not remember, call to mind<br/>
How lately thou hast drunk of Lethe’s wave;<br/>
And, sure as smoke doth indicate a flame,<br/>
In that forgetfulness itself conclude<br/>
Blame from thy alienated will incurr’d.<br/>
From henceforth verily my words shall be<br/>
As naked as will suit them to appear<br/>
In thy unpractis’d view.” More sparkling now,<br/>
And with retarded course the sun possess’d<br/>
The circle of mid-day, that varies still<br/>
As th’ aspect varies of each several clime,<br/>
When, as one, sent in vaward of a troop<br/>
For escort, pauses, if perchance he spy<br/>
Vestige of somewhat strange and rare: so paus’d<br/>
The sev’nfold band, arriving at the verge<br/>
Of a dun umbrage hoar, such as is seen,<br/>
Beneath green leaves and gloomy branches, oft<br/>
To overbrow a bleak and alpine cliff.<br/>
And, where they stood, before them, as it seem’d,<br/>
Tigris and Euphrates both beheld,<br/>
Forth from one fountain issue; and, like friends,<br/>
Linger at parting. “O enlight’ning beam!<br/>
O glory of our kind! beseech thee say<br/>
What water this, which from one source deriv’d<br/>
Itself removes to distance from itself?”<br/>
<br/>
To such entreaty answer thus was made:<br/>
“Entreat Matilda, that she teach thee this.”<br/>
<br/>
And here, as one, who clears himself of blame<br/>
Imputed, the fair dame return’d: “Of me<br/>
He this and more hath learnt; and I am safe<br/>
That Lethe’s water hath not hid it from him.”<br/>
<br/>
And Beatrice: “Some more pressing care<br/>
That oft the memory ’reeves, perchance hath made<br/>
His mind’s eye dark. But lo! where Eunoe cows!<br/>
Lead thither; and, as thou art wont, revive<br/>
His fainting virtue.” As a courteous spirit,<br/>
That proffers no excuses, but as soon<br/>
As he hath token of another’s will,<br/>
Makes it his own; when she had ta’en me, thus<br/>
The lovely maiden mov’d her on, and call’d<br/>
To Statius with an air most lady-like:<br/>
“Come thou with him.” Were further space allow’d,<br/>
Then, Reader, might I sing, though but in part,<br/>
That beverage, with whose sweetness I had ne’er<br/>
Been sated. But, since all the leaves are full,<br/>
Appointed for this second strain, mine art<br/>
With warning bridle checks me. I return’d<br/>
From the most holy wave, regenerate,<br/>
If ’en as new plants renew’d with foliage new,<br/>
Pure and made apt for mounting to the stars.
</p>

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