1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
|
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?>
<!DOCTYPE html
PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
<head>
<title>
Dante's Purgatory
</title>
<style type="text/css">
<!--
body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
.foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
.mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
.toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
.toc2 { margin-left: 20%;}
.indent5 { margin-left: 5%;}
.indent10 { margin-left: 10%;}
.indent15 { margin-left: 15%;}
.indent20 { margin-left: 20%;}
.indent30 { margin-left: 30%;}
div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
.figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
.figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
.pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal;
margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
text-align: right;}
.side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em;
border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left;
text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;
font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;}
p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0}
span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 }
pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
-->
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1>
THE VISION OF PURGATORY
</h1>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
Project Gutenberg's The Vision of Purgatory, Complete, by Dante Alighieri
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: The Vision of Purgatory, Complete
Author: Dante Alighieri
Release Date: August 5, 2004 [EBook #8795]
Last Updated: October 12, 2012
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VISION OF PURGATORY, COMPLETE ***
Produced by David Widger
</pre>
<div class="mynote">
<i><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/8795/old/orig8795-h/main.htm">
LINK TO THE ORIGINAL HTML FILE: This Ebook Has Been Reformatted For Better
Appearance In Mobile Viewers Such As Kindles And Others. The Original
Format, Which The Editor Believes Has A More Attractive Appearance For
Laptops And Other Computers, May Be Viewed By Clicking On This Box.</a></i>
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br />
</p>
<h1>
PURGATORY
</h1>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h2>
THE VISION
</h2>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h2>
OF
</h2>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h2>
HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE
</h2>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h3>
BY
</h3>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h2>
DANTE ALIGHIERI
</h2>
<p>
<br /><br />
</p>
<h1>
ILLUSTRATED BY GUSTAVE DORE
</h1>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h3>
TRANSLATED BY
</h3>
<p>
<br />
</p>
<h3>
THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.
</h3>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
LIST OF CANTOS
</h2>
<p>
<a href="#link1">Canto 1</a> <br /><br /> <a
href="#link2">Canto 2</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link3">Canto 3</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link4">Canto 4</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link5">Canto 5</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link6">Canto 6</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link7">Canto 7</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link8">Canto 8</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link9">Canto 9</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link10">Canto 10</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link11">Canto 11</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link12">Canto 12</a> <br /><br /> <a
href="#link13">Canto 13</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link14">Canto 14</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link15">Canto 15</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link16">Canto 16</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link17">Canto 17</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link18">Canto 18</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link19">Canto 19</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link20">Canto 20</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link21">Canto 21</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link22">Canto 22</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link23">Canto 23</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link24">Canto 24</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link25">Canto 25</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link26">Canto 26</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link27">Canto 27</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link28">Canto 28</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link29">Canto 29</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link30">Canto 30</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link31">Canto 31</a><br /><br /> <a href="#link32">Canto 32</a><br /><br />
<a href="#link33">Canto 33</a><br /><br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
<br /><br /> <a name="link1" id="link1"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO I
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/01-19.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="01-19th.jpg (38K)" src="images/01-19th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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?"<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/01-49.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="01-49th.jpg (35K)" src="images/01-49th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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. <br /><br /> <a
name="link2" id="link2"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO II
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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."<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/02-27.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="02-27th.jpg (33K)" src="images/02-27th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/02-42.jpg">ENLARGE TO
FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="02-42th.jpg (31K)" src="images/02-42th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.
<br /><br /> <a name="link3" id="link3"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO III
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/03-50.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="03-50th.jpg (35K)" src="images/03-50th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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." <br /><br /> <a name="link4" id="link4"></a>
<br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO IV
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/04-31.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="04-31th.jpg (44K)" src="images/04-31th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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."—"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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/04-100.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="04-100th.jpg (63K)" src="images/04-100th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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."
<br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link5"
id="link5"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO V
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/05-42.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="05-42th.jpg (38K)" src="images/05-42th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> "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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/05-123.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="05-123th.jpg (44K)" src="images/05-123th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> "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." <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/05-130.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="05-130th.jpg (44K)" src="images/05-130th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="link6" id="link6"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO VI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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. <br /><br /> <a
name="link7" id="link7"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO VII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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?"—"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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/07-21.jpg">ENLARGE TO
FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="07-21th.jpg (40K)" src="images/07-21th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/07-82.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="07-82th.jpg (43K)" src="images/07-82th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> "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." <br /><br /> <a name="link8" id="link8"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO VIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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?"—"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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/frontispiece.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="front2.jpg (41K)" src="images/front2.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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." <br /><br /> <a name="link9"
id="link9"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO IX
</h2>
<p>
<br /><br /> <a href="images/09-1.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="09-1th.jpg (28K)" src="images/09-1th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/09-29.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="09-29th.jpg (42K)" src="images/09-29th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/09-74.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="09-74th.jpg (41K)" src="images/09-74th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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."—"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. <br /><br /> <a name="link10"
id="link10"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO X
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/10-74.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="10-74th.jpg (40K)" src="images/10-74th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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?"—"Where I am, who then is,<br /> May
right thee."—"What to thee is other's good,<br /> If thou neglect thy
own?"—"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." <br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br />
<br /><br /> <a name="link11" id="link11"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> "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?"--"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." <br /><br />
<a name="link12" id="link12"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XII
</h2>
<p>
<br /><br /> <a href="images/12-1.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="12-1th.jpg (60K)" src="images/12-1th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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!<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/12-39.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="12-39th.jpg (40K)" src="images/12-39th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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. <br /><br /> <a name="link13" id="link13"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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,<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/13-55.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="13-55th.jpg (47K)" src="images/13-55th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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?"--"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?"<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/13-129.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="13-129th.jpg (49K)" src="images/13-129th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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."--"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." <br /><br /> <a
name="link14" id="link14"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XIV
</h2>
<p>
<br /> "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." <br /><br /> <a name="link15" id="link15"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XV
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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,<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/15-103.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="15-103th.jpg (38K)" src="images/15-103th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> <a
name="link16" id="link16"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XVI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/16-23.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="16-23th.jpg (42K)" src="images/16-23th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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:<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/16-32.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="16-32th.jpg (37K)" src="images/16-32th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> "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--the angel comes--ere he<br /> Appear." He said, and
would not hear me more. <br /><br /> <a name="link17" id="link17"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XVII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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." <br /><br />
<a name="link18" id="link18"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XVIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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,<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/18-87.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="18-87th.jpg (39K)" src="images/18-87th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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."--"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. <br />
<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a name="link19"
id="link19"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XIX
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/19-51.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="19-51th.jpg (38K)" src="images/19-51th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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."—"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—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!"—"Compunction," I
rejoin'd.<br /> "And inward awe of your high dignity."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/19-131.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="19-131th.jpg (44K)" src="images/19-131th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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." <br /><br /> <a
name="link20" id="link20"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XX
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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!—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? —With wary steps and slow<br />
We pass'd; and I attentive to the shades,<br /> Whom piteously I heard
lament and wail;<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/20-17.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="20-17th.jpg (38K)" src="images/20-17th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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?—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. <br /><br />
<a name="link21" id="link21"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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."—"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." <br /><br />
<a name="link22" id="link22"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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." <br /><br />
<a name="link23" id="link23"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/23-47.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL
SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="23-47th.jpg (46K)" src="images/23-47th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />"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." <br /><br />
<a name="link24" id="link24"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXIV
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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,<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/24-4.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="24-4th.jpg (38K)" src="images/24-4th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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."—"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,—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.<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/24-112.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="24-112th.jpg (43K)" src="images/24-112th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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."
<br /><br /> <a name="link25" id="link25"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXV
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/25-107.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="25-107th.jpg (38K)" src="images/25-107th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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."<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/25-117.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="25-117th.jpg (38K)" src="images/25-117th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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. <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/25-119.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="25-119th.jpg (33K)" src="images/25-119th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /><br /> <a
name="link26" id="link26"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXVI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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. <br /><br /> <a name="link27"
id="link27"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXVII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/27-97.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL
SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="27-97th.jpg (40K)" src="images/27-97th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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." <br /><br /> <a name="link28" id="link28"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXVIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/28-22.jpg">ENLARGE TO
FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="28-22th.jpg (30K)" src="images/28-22th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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. <br /><br /> <a name="link29" id="link29"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXIX
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a
href="images/29-80.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="29-80th.jpg (36K)" src="images/29-80th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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.<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/29-118.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="29-118th.jpg (39K)" src="images/29-118th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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. <br /><br /> <a name="link30" id="link30"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXX
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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—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:<br />
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/30-32.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="30-32th.jpg (34K)" src="images/30-32th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> 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." <br /><br /> <a name="link31" id="link31"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXXI
</h2>
<p>
<br /> "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.<br /> <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/31-100.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="31-100th.jpg (39K)" src="images/31-100th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br />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. <br /><br /> <a name="link32" id="link32"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXXII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> 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?"—"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. <br /><br /><br /><br /> <a href="images/32-148.jpg">ENLARGE
TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="32-148th.jpg (47K)" src="images/32-148th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a name="link33" id="link33"></a> <br /><br />
</p>
<h2>
CANTO XXXIII
</h2>
<p>
<br /> "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?"—"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. <br /><br /><br /><br />
<a href="images/33-134.jpg">ENLARGE TO FULL SIZE</a>
</p>
<div class="fig" style="width:80%;">
<img alt="33-134th.jpg (36K)" src="images/33-134th.jpg" width="100%" /><br />
</div>
<p>
<br /><br /><br /><br /> <br /> <br />
</p>
<pre xml:space="preserve">
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vision of Purgatory, Complete
by Dante Alighieri
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VISION OF PURGATORY, COMPLETE ***
***** This file should be named 8795-h.htm or 8795-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.net/8/7/9/8795/
Produced by David Widger
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.net/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.net
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
</pre>
</body>
</html>
|
