THE VISION

OF

HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE

BY DANTE ALIGHIERI

TRANSLATED BY

THE REV. H. F. CARY

PURGATORY

Part 2

Cantos 5 - 10

CANTO V

Now had I left those spirits, and pursuedThe steps of my Conductor, when beheldPointing the finger at me one exclaim'd:"See how it seems as if the light not shoneFrom the left hand of him beneath, and he, As living, seems to be led on. " Mine eyesI at that sound reverting, saw them gazeThrough wonder first at me, and then at meAnd the light broken underneath, by turns. "Why are thy thoughts thus riveted?" my guideExclaim'd, "that thou hast slack'd thy pace? or howImports it thee, what thing is whisper'd here?Come after me, and to their babblings leaveThe crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set, Shakes not its top for any blast that blows!He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out, Still of his aim is wide, in that the oneSicklies and wastes to nought the other's strength. "

What other could I answer save "I come?"I said it, somewhat with that colour ting'dWhich ofttimes pardon meriteth for man. 

Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came, A little way before us, some who sangThe "Miserere" in responsive Strains. When they perceiv'd that through my body IGave way not for the rays to pass, their songStraight to a long and hoarse exclaim they chang'd;And two of them, in guise of messengers, Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask'd:"Of your condition we would gladly learn. "

To them my guide. "Ye may return, and bearTidings to them who sent you, that his frameIs real flesh. If, as I deem, to viewHis shade they paus'd, enough is answer'd them. Him let them honour, they may prize him well. "

Ne'er saw I fiery vapours with such speedCut through the serene air at fall of night, Nor August's clouds athwart the setting sun, That upward these did not in shorter spaceReturn; and, there arriving, with the restWheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop. 

"Many, " exclaim'd the bard, "are these, who throngAround us: to petition thee they come. Go therefore on, and listen as thou go'st. "

"O spirit! who go'st on to blessednessWith the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth. "Shouting they came, "a little rest thy step. Look if thou any one amongst our tribeHast e'er beheld, that tidings of him thereThou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go'st thou on?Ah wherefore tarriest thou not? We allBy violence died, and to our latest hourWere sinners, but then warn'd by light from heav'n, So that, repenting and forgiving, weDid issue out of life at peace with God, Who with desire to see him fills our heart. "

Then I: "The visages of all I scanYet none of ye remember. But if aught, That I can do, may please you, gentle spirits!Speak; and I will perform it, by that peace, Which on the steps of guide so excellentFollowing from world to world intent I seek. "

In answer he began: "None here distrustsThy kindness, though not promis'd with an oath;So as the will fail not for want of power. Whence I, who sole before the others speak, Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land, Which lies between Romagna and the realmOf Charles, that of thy courtesy thou prayThose who inhabit Fano, that for meTheir adorations duly be put up, By which I may purge off my grievous sins. From thence I came. But the deep passages, Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt, Upon my bosom in Antenor's landWere made, where to be more secure I thought. The author of the deed was Este's prince, Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrathPursued me. Had I towards Mira fled, When overta'en at Oriaco, stillMight I have breath'd. But to the marsh I sped, And in the mire and rushes tangled thereFell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain. "

Then said another: "Ah! so may the wish, That takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd, As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine. Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I:Giovanna nor none else have care for me, Sorrowing with these I therefore go. " I thus:"From Campaldino's field what force or chanceDrew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?"

"Oh!" answer'd he, "at Casentino's footA stream there courseth, nam'd Archiano, sprungIn Apennine above the Hermit's seat. E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I, Pierc'd in the heart, fleeing away on foot, And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speechFail'd me, and finishing with Mary's nameI fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd. I will report the truth; which thou againTell to the living. Me God's angel took, Whilst he of hell exclaim'd: "O thou from heav'n!Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of himTh' eternal portion bear'st with thee awayFor one poor tear that he deprives me of. But of the other, other rule I make. "

"Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collectsThat vapour dank, returning into water, Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it. That evil will, which in his intellectStill follows evil, came, and rais'd the windAnd smoky mist, by virtue of the powerGiven by his nature. Thence the valley, soonAs day was spent, he cover'd o'er with cloudFrom Pratomagno to the mountain range, And stretch'd the sky above, so that the airImpregnate chang'd to water. Fell the rain, And to the fosses came all that the landContain'd not; and, as mightiest streams are wont, To the great river with such headlong sweepRush'd, that nought stay'd its course. My stiffen'd frameLaid at his mouth the fell Archiano found, And dash'd it into Arno, from my breastLoos'ning the cross, that of myself I madeWhen overcome with pain. He hurl'd me on, Along the banks and bottom of his course;Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt. "

"Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return'd, And rested after thy long road, " so spakeNext the third spirit; "then remember me. I once was Pia. Sienna gave me life, Maremma took it from me. That he knows, Who me with jewell'd ring had first espous'd. "

CANTO VI

When from their game of dice men separate, He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix'd, Revolving in his mind, what luckless throwsHe cast: but meanwhile all the companyGo with the other; one before him runs, And one behind his mantle twitches, oneFast by his side bids him remember him. He stops not; and each one, to whom his handIs stretch'd, well knows he bids him stand aside;And thus he from the press defends himself. E'en such was I in that close-crowding throng;And turning so my face around to all, And promising, I 'scap'd from it with pains. 

Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fellBy Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside, Who in his chase was swallow'd by the stream. Here Frederic Novello, with his handStretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, Who put the good Marzuco to such proofOf constancy. Count Orso I beheld;And from its frame a soul dismiss'd for spiteAnd envy, as it said, but for no crime:I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here, While she yet lives, that Lady of BrabantLet her beware; lest for so false a deedShe herd with worse than these. When I was freedFrom all those spirits, who pray'd for others' prayersTo hasten on their state of blessedness;Straight I began: "O thou, my luminary!It seems expressly in thy text denied, That heaven's supreme decree can never bendTo supplication; yet with this designDo these entreat. Can then their hope be vain, Or is thy saying not to me reveal'd?"

He thus to me: "Both what I write is plain, And these deceiv'd not in their hope, if wellThy mind consider, that the sacred heightOf judgment doth not stoop, because love's flameIn a short moment all fulfils, which heWho sojourns here, in right should satisfy. Besides, when I this point concluded thus, By praying no defect could be supplied;Because the pray'r had none access to God. Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou notContented unless she assure thee so, Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light. I know not if thou take me right; I meanBeatrice. Her thou shalt behold above, Upon this mountain's crown, fair seat of joy. "

Then I: "Sir! let us mend our speed; for nowI tire not as before; and lo! the hillStretches its shadow far. " He answer'd thus:"Our progress with this day shall be as muchAs we may now dispatch; but otherwiseThan thou supposest is the truth. For thereThou canst not be, ere thou once more beholdHim back returning, who behind the steepIs now so hidden, that as erst his beamThou dost not break. But lo! a spirit thereStands solitary, and toward us looks:It will instruct us in the speediest way. "

We soon approach'd it. O thou Lombard spirit!How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood, Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes!It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass, Eyeing us as a lion on his watch. But Virgil with entreaty mild advanc'd, Requesting it to show the best ascent. It answer to his question none return'd, But of our country and our kind of lifeDemanded. When my courteous guide began, "Mantua, " the solitary shadow quickRose towards us from the place in which it stood, And cry'd, "Mantuan! I am thy countrymanSordello. " Each the other then embrac'd. 

Ah slavish Italy! thou inn of grief, Vessel without a pilot in loud storm, Lady no longer of fair provinces, But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit, Ev'n from the Pleasant sound of his dear landWas prompt to greet a fellow citizenWith such glad cheer; while now thy living onesIn thee abide not without war; and oneMalicious gnaws another, ay of thoseWhom the same wall and the same moat contains, Seek, wretched one! around thy sea-coasts wide;Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and markIf any part of the sweet peace enjoy. What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's handBefitted, if thy saddle be unpress'd?Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame. Ah people! thou obedient still shouldst live, And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit, If well thou marked'st that which God commands. 

Look how that beast to felness hath relaps'dFrom having lost correction of the spur, Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand, O German Albert! who abandon'st her, That is grown savage and unmanageable, When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels. Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood!And be it strange and manifest to all!Such as may strike thy successor with dread!For that thy sire and thou have suffer'd thus, Through greediness of yonder realms detain'd, The garden of the empire to run waste. Come see the Capulets and Montagues, The Philippeschi and Monaldi! manWho car'st for nought! those sunk in grief, and theseWith dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one!Come and behold the' oppression of the nobles, And mark their injuries: and thou mayst see. What safety Santafiore can supply. Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee, Desolate widow! day and night with moans:"My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?"Come and behold what love among thy people:And if no pity touches thee for us, Come and blush for thine own report. For me, If it be lawful, O Almighty Power, Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified!Are thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere? or is thisA preparation in the wond'rous depthOf thy sage counsel made, for some good end, Entirely from our reach of thought cut off?So are the' Italian cities all o'erthrong'dWith tyrants, and a great Marcellus madeOf every petty factious villager. 

My Florence! thou mayst well remain unmov'dAt this digression, which affects not thee:Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed. Many have justice in their heart, that longWaiteth for counsel to direct the bow, Or ere it dart unto its aim: but shineHave it on their lip's edge. Many refuseTo bear the common burdens: readier thineAnswer uneall'd, and cry, "Behold I stoop!"

Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now, Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom-fraught!Facts best witness if I speak the truth. Athens and Lacedaemon, who of oldEnacted laws, for civil arts renown'd, Made little progress in improving lifeTow'rds thee, who usest such nice subtlety, That to the middle of November scarceReaches the thread thou in October weav'st. How many times, within thy memory, Customs, and laws, and coins, and officesHave been by thee renew'd, and people chang'd!

If thou remember'st well and can'st see clear, Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch, Who finds no rest upon her down, but oftShifting her side, short respite seeks from pain. 

CANTO VII

After their courteous greetings joyfullySev'n times exchang'd, Sordello backward drewExclaiming, "Who are ye?" "Before this mountBy spirits worthy of ascent to GodWas sought, my bones had by Octavius' careBeen buried. I am Virgil, for no sinDepriv'd of heav'n, except for lack of faith. "

So answer'd him in few my gentle guide. 

As one, who aught before him suddenlyBeholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries"It is yet is not, " wav'ring in belief;Such he appear'd; then downward bent his eyes, And drawing near with reverential step, Caught him, where of mean estate might claspHis lord. "Glory of Latium!" he exclaim'd, "In whom our tongue its utmost power display'd!Boast of my honor'd birth-place! what desertOf mine, what favour rather undeserv'd, Shows thee to me? If I to hear that voiceAm worthy, say if from below thou com'stAnd from what cloister's pale?"--"Through every orbOf that sad region, " he reply'd, "thus farAm I arriv'd, by heav'nly influence ledAnd with such aid I come. There is a placeThere underneath, not made by torments sad, But by dun shades alone; where mourning's voiceSounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs. 

"There I with little innocents abide, Who by death's fangs were bitten, ere exemptFrom human taint. There I with those abide, Who the three holy virtues put not on, But understood the rest, and without blameFollow'd them all. But if thou know'st and canst, Direct us, how we soonest may arrive, Where Purgatory its true beginning takes. "

He answer'd thus: "We have no certain placeAssign'd us: upwards I may go or round, Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide. But thou beholdest now how day declines:And upwards to proceed by night, our powerExcels: therefore it may be well to chooseA place of pleasant sojourn. To the rightSome spirits sit apart retir'd. If thouConsentest, I to these will lead thy steps:And thou wilt know them, not without delight. "

"How chances this?" was answer'd; "who so wish'dTo ascend by night, would he be thence debarr'dBy other, or through his own weakness fail?"

The good Sordello then, along the groundTrailing his finger, spoke: "Only this lineThou shalt not overpass, soon as the sunHath disappear'd; not that aught else impedesThy going upwards, save the shades of night. These with the wont of power perplex the will. With them thou haply mightst return beneath, Or to and fro around the mountain's sideWander, while day is in the horizon shut. "

My master straight, as wond'ring at his speech, Exclaim'd: "Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst, That, while we stay, we may enjoy delight. "

A little space we were remov'd from thence, When I perceiv'd the mountain hollow'd out. Ev'n as large valleys hollow'd out on earth, "That way, " the' escorting spirit cried, "we go, Where in a bosom the high bank recedes:And thou await renewal of the day. "

Betwixt the steep and plain a crooked pathLed us traverse into the ridge's side, Where more than half the sloping edge expires. Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refin'd, And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian woodOf lucid dye serene, fresh emeraldsBut newly broken, by the herbs and flowersPlac'd in that fair recess, in color allHad been surpass'd, as great surpasses less. Nor nature only there lavish'd her hues, But of the sweetness of a thousand smellsA rare and undistinguish'd fragrance made. 

"Salve Regina, " on the grass and flowersHere chanting I beheld those spirits sitWho not beyond the valley could be seen. 

"Before the west'ring sun sink to his bed, "Began the Mantuan, who our steps had turn'd, "'Mid those desires not that I lead ye on. For from this eminence ye shall discernBetter the acts and visages of all, Than in the nether vale among them mix'd. He, who sits high above the rest, and seemsTo have neglected that he should have done, And to the others' song moves not his lip, The Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal'dThe wounds whereof fair Italy hath died, So that by others she revives but slowly, He, who with kindly visage comforts him, Sway'd in that country, where the water springs, That Moldaw's river to the Elbe, and ElbeRolls to the ocean: Ottocar his name:Who in his swaddling clothes was of more worthThan Winceslaus his son, a bearded man, Pamper'd with rank luxuriousness and ease. And that one with the nose depress, who closeIn counsel seems with him of gentle look, Flying expir'd, with'ring the lily's flower. Look there how he doth knock against his breast!The other ye behold, who for his cheekMakes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs. They are the father and the father-in-lawOf Gallia's bane: his vicious life they knowAnd foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus. 

"He, so robust of limb, who measure keepsIn song, with him of feature prominent, With ev'ry virtue bore his girdle brac'd. And if that stripling who behinds him sits, King after him had liv'd, his virtue thenFrom vessel to like vessel had been pour'd;Which may not of the other heirs be said. By James and Frederick his realms are held;Neither the better heritage obtains. Rarely into the branches of the treeDoth human worth mount up; and so ordainsHe who bestows it, that as his free giftIt may be call'd. To Charles my words applyNo less than to his brother in the song;Which Pouille and Provence now with grief confess. So much that plant degenerates from its seed, As more than Beatrice and MargaretCostanza still boasts of her valorous spouse. 

"Behold the king of simple life and plain, Harry of England, sitting there alone:He through his branches better issue spreads. 

"That one, who on the ground beneath the restSits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft, Us William, that brave Marquis, for whose causeThe deed of Alexandria and his warMakes Conferrat and Canavese weep. "

CANTO VIII

Now was the hour that wakens fond desireIn men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart, Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell, And pilgrim newly on his road with loveThrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, That seems to mourn for the expiring day:When I, no longer taking heed to hearBegan, with wonder, from those spirits to markOne risen from its seat, which with its handAudience implor'd. Both palms it join'd and rais'd, Fixing its steadfast gaze towards the east, As telling God, "I care for naught beside. "

"Te Lucis Ante, " so devoutly thenCame from its lip, and in so soft a strain, That all my sense in ravishment was lost. And the rest after, softly and devout, Follow'd through all the hymn, with upward gazeDirected to the bright supernal wheels. 

Here, reader! for the truth makes thine eyes keen:For of so subtle texture is this veil, That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark'd. 

I saw that gentle band silently nextLook up, as if in expectation held, Pale and in lowly guise; and from on highI saw forth issuing descend beneathTwo angels with two flame-illumin'd swords, Broken and mutilated at their points. Green as the tender leaves but newly born, Their vesture was, the which by wings as greenBeaten, they drew behind them, fann'd in air. A little over us one took his stand, The other lighted on the' Opposing hill, So that the troop were in the midst contain'd. 

Well I descried the whiteness on their heads;But in their visages the dazzled eyeWas lost, as faculty that by too muchIs overpower'd. "From Mary's bosom bothAre come, " exclaim'd Sordello, "as a guardOver the vale, ganst him, who hither tends, The serpent. " Whence, not knowing by which pathHe came, I turn'd me round, and closely press'd, All frozen, to my leader's trusted side. 

Sordello paus'd not: "To the valley now(For it is time) let us descend; and holdConverse with those great shadows: haply muchTheir sight may please ye. " Only three steps downMethinks I measur'd, ere I was beneath, And noted one who look'd as with desireTo know me. Time was now that air arrow dim;Yet not so dim, that 'twixt his eyes and mineIt clear'd not up what was conceal'd before. Mutually tow'rds each other we advanc'd. Nino, thou courteous judge! what joy I felt, When I perceiv'd thou wert not with the bad!

No salutation kind on either partWas left unsaid. He then inquir'd: "How longSince thou arrived'st at the mountain's foot, Over the distant waves?"--"O!" answer'd I, "Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came, And still in my first life, thus journeying on, The other strive to gain. " Soon as they heardMy words, he and Sordello backward drew, As suddenly amaz'd. To Virgil one, The other to a spirit turn'd, who nearWas seated, crying: "Conrad! up with speed:Come, see what of his grace high God hath will'd. "Then turning round to me: "By that rare markOf honour which thou ow'st to him, who hidesSo deeply his first cause, it hath no ford, When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves. Tell my Giovanna, that for me she callThere, where reply to innocence is made. Her mother, I believe, loves me no more;Since she has chang'd the white and wimpled folds, Which she is doom'd once more with grief to wish. By her it easily may be perceiv'd, How long in women lasts the flame of love, If sight and touch do not relume it oft. For her so fair a burial will not makeThe viper which calls Milan to the field, As had been made by shrill Gallura's bird. "

He spoke, and in his visage took the stampOf that right seal, which with due temperatureGlows in the bosom. My insatiate eyesMeanwhile to heav'n had travel'd, even thereWhere the bright stars are slowest, as a wheelNearest the axle; when my guide inquir'd:"What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?"

I answer'd: "The three torches, with which hereThe pole is all on fire. " He then to me:"The four resplendent stars, thou saw'st this mornAre there beneath, and these ris'n in their stead. "

While yet he spoke. Sordello to himselfDrew him, and cry'd: "Lo there our enemy!"And with his hand pointed that way to look. 

Along the side, where barrier none aroseAround the little vale, a serpent lay, Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food. Between the grass and flowers, the evil snakeCame on, reverting oft his lifted head;And, as a beast that smoothes its polish'd coat, Licking his hack. I saw not, nor can tell, How those celestial falcons from their seatMov'd, but in motion each one well descried, Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes. The serpent fled; and to their stations backThe angels up return'd with equal flight. 

The Spirit (who to Nino, when he call'd, Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken, Through all that conflict, loosen'd not his sight. 

"So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high, Find, in thy destin'd lot, of wax so much, As may suffice thee to the enamel's height. "It thus began: "If any certain newsOf Valdimagra and the neighbour partThou know'st, tell me, who once was mighty thereThey call'd me Conrad Malaspina, notThat old one, but from him I sprang. The loveI bore my people is now here refin'd. "

"In your dominions, " I answer'd, "ne'er was I. But through all Europe where do those men dwell, To whom their glory is not manifest?The fame, that honours your illustrious house, Proclaims the nobles and proclaims the land;So that he knows it who was never there. I swear to you, so may my upward routeProsper! your honour'd nation not impairsThe value of her coffer and her sword. Nature and use give her such privilege, That while the world is twisted from his courseBy a bad head, she only walks aright, And has the evil way in scorn. " He then:"Now pass thee on: sev'n times the tired sunRevisits not the couch, which with four feetThe forked Aries covers, ere that kindOpinion shall be nail'd into thy brainWith stronger nails than other's speech can drive, If the sure course of judgment be not stay'd. "

CANTO IX

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

There both, I thought, the eagle and myselfDid burn; and so intense th' imagin'd flames, That needs my sleep was broken off. As erstAchilles shook himself, and round him roll'dHis waken'd eyeballs wond'ring where he was, Whenas his mother had from Chiron fledTo Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;E'en thus I shook me, soon as from my faceThe slumber parted, turning deadly pale, Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my sideMy comfort stood: and the bright sun was nowMore than two hours aloft: and to the seaMy looks were turn'd. "Fear not, " my master cried, "Assur'd we are at happy point. Thy strengthShrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art comeTo Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliffThat circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there, Where it doth seem disparted! re the dawnUsher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soulSlept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneathA lady came, and thus bespake me: "IAm Lucia. Suffer me to take this man, Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed. "Sordello and the other gentle shapesTarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone, This summit reach'd: and I pursued her steps. Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyesThat open entrance show'd me; then at onceShe vanish'd with thy sleep. Like one, whose doubtsAre chas'd by certainty, and terror turn'dTo comfort on discovery of the truth, Such was the change in me: and as my guideBeheld me fearless, up along the cliffHe mov'd, and I behind him, towards the height. 

Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise, Nor wonder therefore, if more artfullyI prop the structure! nearer now we drew, Arriv'd' whence in that part, where first a breachAs of a wall appear'd, I could descryA portal, and three steps beneath, that ledFor inlet there, of different colour each, And one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word. As more and more mine eye did stretch its view, I mark'd him seated on the highest step, In visage such, as past my power to bear. 

Grasp'd in his hand a naked sword, glanc'd backThe rays so toward me, that I oft in vainMy sight directed. "Speak from whence ye stand:"He cried: "What would ye? Where is your escort?Take heed your coming upward harm ye not. "

"A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things, "Replied the' instructor, "told us, even now, "Pass that way: here the gate is. " --"And may sheBefriending prosper your ascent, " resum'dThe courteous keeper of the gate: "Come thenBefore our steps. " We straightway thither came. 

The lowest stair was marble white so smoothAnd polish'd, that therein my mirror'd formDistinct I saw. The next of hue more darkThan sablest grain, a rough and singed block, Crack'd lengthwise and across. The third, that layMassy above, seem'd porphyry, that flam'dRed as the life-blood spouting from a vein. On this God's angel either foot sustain'd, Upon the threshold seated, which appear'dA rock of diamond. Up the trinal stepsMy leader cheerily drew me. "Ask, " said he, "With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt. "

Piously at his holy feet devolv'dI cast me, praying him for pity's sakeThat he would open to me: but first fellThrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven timesThe letter, that denotes the inward stain, He on my forehead with the blunted pointOf his drawn sword inscrib'd. And "Look, " he cried, "When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away. "

Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground, Were of one colour with the robe he wore. From underneath that vestment forth he drewTwo keys of metal twain: the one was gold, Its fellow silver. With the pallid first, And next the burnish'd, he so ply'd the gate, As to content me well. "Whenever oneFaileth of these, that in the keyhole straightIt turn not, to this alley then expectAccess in vain. " Such were the words he spake. "One is more precious: but the other needsSkill and sagacity, large share of each, Ere its good task to disengage the knotBe worthily perform'd. From Peter theseI hold, of him instructed, that I errRather in opening than in keeping fast;So but the suppliant at my feet implore. "

Then of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door, Exclaiming, "Enter, but this warning hear:He forth again departs who looks behind. "

As in the hinges of that sacred wardThe swivels turn'd, sonorous metal strong, Harsh was the grating; nor so surlilyRoar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereftOf good Metellus, thenceforth from his lossTo leanness doom'd. Attentively I turn'd, List'ning the thunder, that first issued forth;And "We praise thee, O God, " methought I heardIn accents blended with sweet melody. The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the soundOf choral voices, that in solemn chantWith organ mingle, and, now high and clear, Come swelling, now float indistinct away. 

CANTO X

When we had passed the threshold of the gate(Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse, Making the crooked seem the straighter path), I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn'd, For that offence what plea might have avail'd?

We mounted up the riven rock, that woundOn either side alternate, as the waveFlies and advances. "Here some little artBehooves us, " said my leader, "that our stepsObserve the varying flexure of the path. "

Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orbThe moon once more o'erhangs her wat'ry couch, Ere we that strait have threaded. But when freeWe came and open, where the mount aboveOne solid mass retires, I spent, with toil, And both, uncertain of the way, we stood, Upon a plain more lonesome, than the roadsThat traverse desert wilds. From whence the brinkBorders upon vacuity, to footOf the steep bank, that rises still, the spaceHad measur'd thrice the stature of a man:And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight, To leftward now and now to right dispatch'd, That cornice equal in extent appear'd. 

Not yet our feet had on that summit mov'd, When I discover'd that the bank around, Whose proud uprising all ascent denied, Was marble white, and so exactly wroughtWith quaintest sculpture, that not there aloneHad Polycletus, but e'en nature's selfBeen sham'd. The angel who came down to earthWith tidings of the peace so many yearsWept for in vain, that op'd the heavenly gatesFrom their long interdict, before us seem'd, In a sweet act, so sculptur'd to the life, He look'd no silent image. One had swornHe had said, "Hail!" for she was imag'd there, By whom the key did open to God's love, And in her act as sensibly impressThat word, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord, "As figure seal'd on wax. "Fix not thy mindOn one place only, " said the guide belov'd, Who had me near him on that part where liesThe heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn'dAnd mark'd, behind the virgin mother's form, Upon that side, where he, that mov'd me, stood, Another story graven on the rock. 

I passed athwart the bard, and drew me near, That it might stand more aptly for my view. There in the self-same marble were engrav'dThe cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark, That from unbidden office awes mankind. Before it came much people; and the wholeParted in seven quires. One sense cried, "Nay, "Another, "Yes, they sing. " Like doubt aroseBetwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fumeOf incense breathing up the well-wrought toil. Preceding the blest vessel, onward cameWith light dance leaping, girt in humble guise, Sweet Israel's harper: in that hap he seem'dLess and yet more than kingly. Opposite, At a great palace, from the lattice forthLook'd Michol, like a lady full of scornAnd sorrow. To behold the tablet next, Which at the hack of Michol whitely shone, I mov'd me. There was storied on the rockThe' exalted glory of the Roman prince, Whose mighty worth mov'd Gregory to earnHis mighty conquest, Trajan th' Emperor. A widow at his bridle stood, attir'dIn tears and mourning. Round about them troop'dFull throng of knights, and overhead in goldThe eagles floated, struggling with the wind. 

The wretch appear'd amid all these to say:"Grant vengeance, sire! for, woe beshrew this heartMy son is murder'd. " He replying seem'd;

"Wait now till I return. " And she, as oneMade hasty by her grief; "O sire, if thouDost not return?"--"Where I am, who then is, May right thee. "--"What to thee is other's good, If thou neglect thy own?"--"Now comfort thee, "At length he answers. "It beseemeth wellMy duty be perform'd, ere I move hence:So justice wills; and pity bids me stay. "

He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produc'dThat visible speaking, new to us and strangeThe like not found on earth. Fondly I gaz'dUpon those patterns of meek humbleness, Shapes yet more precious for their artist's sake, When "Lo, " the poet whisper'd, "where this way(But slack their pace), a multitude advance. These to the lofty steps shall guide us on. "

Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sightsTheir lov'd allurement, were not slow to turn. 

Reader! would not that amaz'd thou missOf thy good purpose, hearing how just GodDecrees our debts be cancel'd. Ponder notThe form of suff'ring. Think on what succeeds, Think that at worst beyond the mighty doomIt cannot pass. "Instructor, " I began, "What I see hither tending, bears no traceOf human semblance, nor of aught besideThat my foil'd sight can guess. " He answering thus:"So courb'd to earth, beneath their heavy teemsOf torment stoop they, that mine eye at firstStruggled as thine. But look intently thither, An disentangle with thy lab'ring view, What underneath those stones approacheth: now, E'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each. "

Christians and proud! poor and wretched ones!That feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trustUpon unstaid perverseness! now ye notThat we are worms, yet made at last to formThe winged insect, imp'd with angel plumesThat to heaven's justice unobstructed soars?Why buoy ye up aloft your unfleg'd souls?Abortive then and shapeless ye remain, Like the untimely embryon of a worm!

As, to support incumbent floor or roof, For corbel is a figure sometimes seen, That crumples up its knees unto its breast, With the feign'd posture stirring ruth unfeign'dIn the beholder's fancy; so I sawThese fashion'd, when I noted well their guise. 

Each, as his back was laden, came indeedOr more or less contract; but it appear'dAs he, who show'd most patience in his look, Wailing exclaim'd: "I can endure no more. "