Dante Alighieri

His glory, by whose might all things are mov'd, Pierces the universe, and in one part Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In heav'n,

All ye, who in small bark have following sail'd, Eager to listen, on the advent'rous track Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way,

That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm'd Had of fair truth unveil'd the sweet aspect, By proof of right, and of the false reproof;

Between two kinds of food, both equally Remote and tempting, first a man might die Of hunger, ere he one could freely choose.

After solution of my doubt, thy Charles, O fair Clemenza, of the treachery spake That must befall his seed: but, "Tell it not,"

"If beyond earthly wont, the flame of love Illume me, so that I o'ercome thy power Of vision, marvel not: but learn the cause

"After that Constantine the eagle turn'd Against the motions of the heav'n, that roll'd Consenting with its course, when he of yore,

"Hosanna Sanctus Deus Sabaoth Superillustrans claritate tua Felices ignes horum malahoth!"

The world was in its day of peril dark Wont to believe the dotage of fond love From the fair Cyprian deity, who rolls

Looking into his first-born with the love, Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might Ineffable, whence eye or mind

O fond anxiety of mortal men! How vain and inconclusive arguments Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below

Soon as its final word the blessed flame Had rais'd for utterance, straight the holy mill Began to wheel, nor yet had once revolv'd,

Let him, who would conceive what now I saw, Imagine (and retain the image firm, As mountain rock, the whilst he hears me speak),

From centre to the circle, and so back From circle to the centre, water moves In the round chalice, even as the blow

Before my sight appear'd, with open wings, The beauteous image, in fruition sweet Gladdening the thronged spirits. Each did seem

True love, that ever shows itself as clear In kindness, as loose appetite in wrong, Silenced that lyre harmonious, and still'd

O slight respect of man's nobility! I never shall account it marvelous, That our infirm affection here below

Such as the youth, who came to Clymene To certify himself of that reproach, Which had been fasten'd on him, (he whose end

Now in his word, sole, ruminating, joy'd That blessed spirit; and I fed on mine, Tempting the sweet with bitter: she meanwhile,

When, disappearing, from our hemisphere, The world's enlightener vanishes, and day On all sides wasteth, suddenly the sky,

Again mine eyes were fix'd on Beatrice, And with mine eyes my soul, that in her looks Found all contentment. Yet no smile she wore

Astounded, to the guardian of my steps I turn'd me, like the chill, who always runs Thither for succour, where he trusteth most,

E'en as the bird, who midst the leafy bower Has, in her nest, sat darkling through the night, With her sweet brood, impatient to descry

"O ye! in chosen fellowship advanc'd To the great supper of the blessed Lamb, Whereon who feeds hath every wish fulfill'd!

No longer than what time Latona's twins Cover'd of Libra and the fleecy star, Together both, girding the' horizon hang,

If e'er the sacred poem that hath made Both heav'n and earth copartners in its toil, And with lean abstinence, through many a year,

With dazzled eyes, whilst wond'ring I remain'd, Forth of the beamy flame which dazzled me, Issued a breath, that in attention mute

Then "Glory to the Father, to the Son, And to the Holy Spirit," rang aloud Throughout all Paradise, that with the song

So she who doth imparadise my soul, Had drawn the veil from off our pleasant life, And bar'd the truth of poor mortality;

Noon's fervid hour perchance six thousand miles From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone Almost to level on our earth declines;

In fashion, as a snow-white rose, lay then Before my view the saintly multitude, Which in his own blood Christ espous'd. Meanwhile

Freely the sage, though wrapt in musings high, Assum'd the teacher's part, and mild began: "The wound, that Mary clos'd, she open'd first,

"O virgin mother, daughter of thy Son, Created beings all in lowliness Surpassing, as in height, above them all,

O'er better waves to speed her rapid course The light bark of my genius lifts the sail, Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind;

Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd, That covers, with the most exalted point Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls,

Them sudden flight had scatter'd over the plain, Turn'd tow'rds the mountain, whither reason's voice Drives us; I to my faithful company

When by sensations of delight or pain, That any of our faculties hath seiz'd, Entire the soul collects herself, it seems

Now the fair consort of Tithonus old, Arisen from her mate's beloved arms, Look'd palely o'er the eastern cliff: her brow,

Now had I left those spirits, and pursued The steps of my Conductor, when beheld Pointing the finger at me one exclaim'd:

When from their game of dice men separate, He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix'd, Revolving in his mind, what luckless throws

After their courteous greetings joyfully Sev'n times exchang'd, Sordello backward drew Exclaiming, "Who are ye?" "Before this mount

Now was the hour that wakens fond desire In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart, Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,

When we had passed the threshold of the gate (Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse, Making the crooked seem the straighter path),

"O thou Almighty Father, who dost make The heavens thy dwelling, not in bounds confin'd, But that with love intenser there thou view'st

With equal pace as oxen in the yoke, I with that laden spirit journey'd on Long as the mild instructor suffer'd me;

We reach'd the summit of the scale, and stood Upon the second buttress of that mount Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there,

"Say who is he around our mountain winds, Or ever death has prun'd his wing for flight, That opes his eyes and covers them at will?"

It was the hour, when of diurnal heat No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon, O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway

As much as 'twixt the third hour's close and dawn, Appeareth of heav'n's sphere, that ever whirls As restless as an infant in his play,

Hell's dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark, Of every planes 'reft, and pall'd in clouds, Did never spread before the sight a veil

Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er Hast, on a mountain top, been ta'en by cloud, Through which thou saw'st no better, than the mole

The teacher ended, and his high discourse Concluding, earnest in my looks inquir'd If I appear'd content; and I, whom still

Ill strives the will, 'gainst will more wise that strives His pleasure therefore to mine own preferr'd, I drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.

The natural thirst, ne'er quench'd but from the well, Whereof the woman of Samaria crav'd, Excited: haste along the cumber'd path,

Now we had left the angel, who had turn'd To the sixth circle our ascending step, One gash from off my forehead raz'd: while they,

On the green leaf mine eyes were fix'd, like his Who throws away his days in idle chase Of the diminutive, when thus I heard

Our journey was not slacken'd by our talk, Nor yet our talk by journeying. Still we spake, And urg'd our travel stoutly, like a ship

Singing, as if enamour'd, she resum'd And clos'd the song, with "Blessed they whose sins Are cover'd." Like the wood-nymphs then, that tripp'd

It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need To walk uncrippled: for the sun had now To Taurus the meridian circle left,

While singly thus along the rim we walk'd, Oft the good master warn'd me: "Look thou well. Avail it that I caution thee." The sun

Now was the sun so station'd, as when first His early radiance quivers on the heights, Where stream'd his Maker's blood, while Libra hangs

Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade With lively greenness the new-springing day Attemper'd, eager now to roam, and search

Soon as the polar light, which never knows Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament

"O Thou!" her words she thus without delay Resuming, turn'd their point on me, to whom They but with lateral edge seem'd harsh before,

Mine eyes with such an eager coveting, Were bent to rid them of their ten years' thirst, No other sense was waking: and e'en they

"The heathen, Lord! are come!" responsive thus, The trinal now, and now the virgin band Quaternion, their sweet psalmody began,

In the midway of this our mortal life, I found me in a gloomy wood, astray Gone from the path direct: and e'en to tell

Now was the day departing, and the air, Imbrown'd with shadows, from their toils releas'd All animals on earth; and I alone

"THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye.

Broke the deep slumber in my brain a crash Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself, As one by main force rous'd.    Risen upright,

The hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeks Imprinted, when I saw my guide turn back, Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,

From the first circle I descended thus Down to the second, which, a lesser space Embracing, so much more of grief contains

My sense reviving, that erewhile had droop'd With pity for the kindred shades, whence grief O'ercame me wholly, straight around I see

"Ah me!    O Satan!    Satan!" loud exclaim'd Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm: And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd,

My theme pursuing, I relate that ere We reach'd the lofty turret's base, our eyes Its height ascended, where two cressets hung

Now by a secret pathway we proceed, Between the walls, that hem the region round, And the tormented souls: my master first,

Upon the utmost verge of a high bank, By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came, Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow'd:

The place where to descend the precipice We came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge Such object lay, as every eye would shun.

Ere Nessus yet had reach'd the other bank, We enter'd on a forest, where no track Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there

Soon as the charity of native land Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves Collected, and to him restor'd, who now

Woe to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you, His wretched followers! who the things of God, Which should be wedded unto goodness, them,

One of the solid margins bears us now Envelop'd in the mist, that from the stream Arising, hovers o'er, and saves from fire

Now came I where the water's din was heard, As down it fell into the other round, Resounding like the hum of swarming bees:

Now upward rose the flame, and still'd its light To speak no more, and now pass'd on with leave From the mild poet gain'd, when following came

"Lo! the fell monster with the deadly sting! Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls And firm embattled spears, and with his filth

There is a place within the depths of hell Call'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'd With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep

And now the verse proceeds to torments new, Fit argument of this the twentieth strain Of the first song, whose awful theme records

Thus we from bridge to bridge, with other talk, The which my drama cares not to rehearse, Pass'd on; and to the summit reaching, stood

It hath been heretofore my chance to see Horsemen with martial order shifting camp, To onset sallying, or in muster rang'd,

In silence and in solitude we went, One first, the other following his steps, As minor friars journeying on their road.

In the year's early nonage, when the sun Tempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn, And now towards equal day the nights recede,

So were mine eyes inebriate with view Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds Disfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep.

When he had spoke, the sinner rais'd his hands Pointed in mockery, and cried: "Take them, God! I level them at thee!" From that day forth

Florence exult! for thou so mightily Hast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wings Thou beatest, and thy name spreads over hell!

Who, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at full Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue

What time resentment burn'd in Juno's breast For Semele against the Theban blood, As more than once in dire mischance was rued,

The very tongue, whose keen reproof before Had wounded me, that either cheek was stain'd, Now minister'd my cure. So have I heard,

Could I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit That hole of sorrow, o'er which ev'ry rock His firm abutment rears, then might the vein

His jaws uplifting from their fell repast, That sinner wip'd them on the hairs o' th' head, Which he behind had mangled, then began:

"The banners of Hell's Monarch do come forth Towards us; therefore look," so spake my guide, "If thou discern him." As, when breathes a cloud