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But who is he Of whom thou spakā€™st but now?ā€ ā€”ā€œThis,ā€ he replied, ā€œIs Provenzano. He is here, because He reachā€™d, with grasp presumptuous, at the sway Of all Sienna. Thus he still hath gone, Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.

Such is thā€™ acquittance renderā€™d back of him, Who, beyond measure, darā€™d on earth.ā€ I then: ā€œIf soul that to the verge of life delays Repentance, linger in that lower space, Nor hither mount, unless good prayers befriend, How chancā€™d admittance was vouchsafā€™d to him?ā€

ā€œWhen at his gloryā€™s topmost height,ā€ said he, ā€œRespect of dignity all cast aside, Freely He fixā€™d him on Siennaā€™s plain, A suitor to redeem his suffā€™ring friend, Who languishā€™d in the prison-house of Charles, Nor for his sake refusā€™d through every vein To tremble. More I will not say; and dark, I know, my words are, but thy neighbours soon Shall help thee to a comment on the text.

This is the work, that from these limits freed him.ā€

 

CANTO XII

 

With equal pace as oxen in the yoke, I with that laden spirit journeyā€™d on Long as the mild instructor sufferā€™d me; But when he bade me quit him, and proceed (For ā€œhere,ā€ said he, ā€œbehooves with sail and oars Each man, as best he may, push on his barkā€), Upright, as one disposā€™d for speed, I raisā€™d My body, still in thought submissive bowā€™d.

I now my leaderā€™s track not loth pursued; And each had shown how light we farā€™d along When thus he warnā€™d me: ā€œBend thine eyesight down: For thou to ease the way shall find it good To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet.ā€

As in memorial of the buried, drawn Upon earth-level tombs, the sculpturā€™d form Of what was once, appears (at sight whereof Tears often stream forth by remembrance wakā€™d, Whose sacred stings the piteous only feel), So saw I there, but with more curious skill Of portraiture oā€™erwrought, whateā€™er of space From forth the mountain stretches. On one part Him I beheld, above all creatures erst Created noblest, lightā€™ning fall from heaven: On thā€™ other side with bolt celestial piercā€™d Briareus: cumbā€™ring earth he lay through dint Of mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbraean god With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire, Armā€™d still, and gazing on the giantā€™s limbs Strewn oā€™er thā€™ ethereal field. Nimrod I saw: At foot of the stupendous work he stood, As if bewilderā€™d, looking on the crowd Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaarā€™s plain.

O Niobe! in what a trance of woe Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn, Sevā€™n sons on either side thee slain! O Saul!

How ghastly didst thou look! on thine own sword Expiring in Gilboa, from that hour Neā€™er visited with rain from heavā€™n or dew!

O fond Arachne! thee I also saw Half spider now in anguish crawling up Thā€™ unfinishā€™d web thou weavedā€™st to thy bane!

O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem Louring no more defiance! but fear-smote With none to chase him in his chariot whirlā€™d.

Was shown beside upon the solid floor How dear Alcmaeon forcā€™d his mother rate That ornament in evil hour receivā€™d: How in the temple on Sennacherib fell His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.

Was shown the scath and cruel mangling made By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried: ā€œBlood thou didst thirst for, take thy fill of blood!ā€

Was shown how routed in the battle fled Thā€™ Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and eā€™en The relics of the carnage. Troy I markā€™d In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fallā€™n, How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there!

What master of the pencil or the style Had tracā€™d the shades and lines, that might have made The subtlest workman wonder? Dead the dead, The living seemā€™d alive; with clearer view His eye beheld not who beheld the truth, Than mine what I did tread on, while I went Low bending. Now swell out; and with stiff necks Pass on, ye sons of Eve! veil not your looks, Lest they descry the evil of your path!

I noted not (so busied was my thought) How much we now had circled of the mount, And of his course yet more the sun had spent, When he, who with still wakeful caution went, Admonishā€™d: ā€œRaise thou up thy head: for know Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold That way an angel hasting towards us! Lo Where duly the sixth handmaid doth return From service on the day. Wear thou in look And gesture seemly grace of reverent awe, That gladly he may forward us aloft.

Consider that this day neā€™er dawns again.ā€

Timeā€™s loss he had so often warnā€™d me ā€˜gainst, I could not miss the scope at which he aimā€™d.

The goodly shape approachā€™d us, snowy white In vesture, and with visage casting streams Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.

His arms he openā€™d, then his wings; and spake: ā€œOnward: the steps, behold! are near; and now Thā€™ ascent is without difficulty gainā€™d.ā€

A scanty few are they, who when they hear Such tidings, hasten. O ye race of men Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind So slight to baffle ye? He led us on Where the rock parted; here against my front Did beat his wings, then promisā€™d I should fare In safety on my way. As to ascend That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands (Oā€™er Rubaconte, looking lordly down On the well-guided city,) up the right Thā€™ impetuous rise is broken by the steps Carvā€™d in that old and simple age, when still The registry and label rested safe; Thus is thā€™ acclivity relievā€™d, which here Precipitous from the other circuit falls: But on each hand the tall cliff presses close.

As entā€™ring there we turnā€™d, voices, in strain Ineffable, sang: ā€œBlessed are the poor In spirit.ā€ Ah how far unlike to these The straits of hell; here songs to usher us, There shrieks of woe! We climb the holy stairs: And lighter to myself by far I seemā€™d Than on the plain before, whence thus I spake: ā€œSay, master, of what heavy thing have I Been lightenā€™d, that scarce aught the sense of toil Affects me journeying?ā€ He in few replied: ā€œWhen sinā€™s broad characters, that yet remain Upon thy temples, though well nigh effacā€™d, Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out, Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will Be so oā€™ercome, they not alone shall feel No sense of labour, but delight much more Shall wait them urgā€™d along their upward way.ā€

Then like to one, upon whose head is placā€™d Somewhat he deems not of but from the becks Of others as they pass him by; his hand Lends therefore help toā€™ assure him, searches, finds, And well performs such office as the eye Wants power to execute: so stretching forth The fingers of my right hand, did I find Six only of the letters, which his sword Who bare the keys had tracā€™d upon my brow.

The leader, as he markā€™d mine action, smilā€™d.

 

CANTO XIII

 

We reachā€™d the summit of the scale, and stood Upon the second buttress of that mount Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there, Like to the former, girdles round the hill; Save that its arch with sweep less ample bends.

Shadow nor image there is seen; all smooth The rampart and the path, reflecting nought But the rockā€™s sullen hue. ā€œIf here we wait For some to question,ā€ said the bard, ā€œI fear Our choice may haply meet too long delay.ā€

Then fixedly upon the sun his eyes He fastnā€™d, made his right the central point From whence to move, and turnā€™d the left aside.

ā€œO pleasant light, my confidence and hope, Conduct us thou,ā€ he cried, ā€œon this new way, Where now I venture, leading to the bourn We seek. The universal world to thee Owes warmth and lustre. If no other cause Forbid, thy beams should ever be our guide.ā€

Far, as is measurā€™d for a mile on earth, In brief space had we journeyā€™d; such prompt will Impellā€™d; and towards us flying, now were heard Spirits invisible, who courteously Unto loveā€™s table bade the welcome guest.

The voice, that first? flew by, callā€™d forth aloud, ā€œThey have no wine; ā€ so on behind us past, Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lost In the faint distance, when another came Crying, ā€œI am Orestes,ā€ and alike

Wingā€™d its fleet way. ā€œOh father!ā€ I exclaimā€™d, ā€œWhat tongues are these?ā€ and as I questionā€™d, lo!

A third exclaiming, ā€œLove ye those have wrongā€™d you.ā€

ā€œThis circuit,ā€ said my teacher, ā€œknots the scourge For envy, and the cords are therefore drawn By charityā€™s correcting hand. The curb Is of a harsher sound, as thou shalt hear (If I deem rightly), ere thou reach the pass, Where pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyes Intently through the air, and thou shalt see A multitude before thee seated, each Along the shelving grot.ā€ Then more than erst I opā€™d my eyes, before me viewā€™d, and saw Shadows with garments dark as was the rock; And when we passā€™d a little forth, I heard A crying, ā€œBlessed Mary! pray for us, Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!ā€

I do not think there walks on earth this day Man so remorseless, that he hath not yearnā€™d With pity at the sight that next I saw.

Mine eyes a load of sorrow teemed, when now I stood so near them, that their semblances Came clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile Their covā€™ring seemā€™d; and on his shoulder one Did stay another, leaning, and all leanā€™d Against the cliff. Eā€™en thus the blind and poor, Near the confessionals, to crave an alms, Stand, each his head upon his fellowā€™s sunk, So most to stir compassion, not by sound Of words alone, but that, which moves not less, The sight of misā€™ry. And as never beam Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man, Eā€™en so was heavā€™n a niggard unto these Of his fair light; for, through the orbs of all, A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up, As for the taming of a haggard hawk.

It were a wrong, methought, to pass and look On others, yet myself the while unseen.

To my sage counsel therefore did I turn.

He knew the meaning of the mute appeal, Nor waited for my questioning, but said: ā€œSpeak; and be brief, be subtle in thy words.ā€

On that part of the cornice, whence no rim Engarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come; On theā€™ other side me were the spirits, their cheeks Bathing devout with penitential tears, That through the dread impalement forcā€™d a way.

I turnā€™d me to them, and ā€œO shades!ā€ said I, ā€œAssurā€™d that to your eyes unveilā€™d shall shine The lofty light, sole object of your wish, So may heavenā€™s grace clear whatsoeā€™er of foam Floats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth The stream of mind roll limpid from its source, As ye declare (for so shall ye impart A boon I dearly prize) if any soul Of Latium dwell among ye; and perchance That soul may profit, if I learn so much.ā€

ā€œMy brother, we are each one citizens Of one true city. Any thou wouldst say, Who lived a stranger in Italiaā€™s land.ā€

So heard I answering, as appealā€™d, a voice That onward came some space from whence I stood.

A spirit I noted, in whose look was markā€™d Expectance. Ask ye how? The chin was raisā€™d As in one reft of sight. ā€œSpirit,ā€ said I, ā€œWho for thy rise are tutoring (if thou be That which didst answer to me,) or by place Or name, disclose thyself, that I may know thee.ā€

ā€œI was,ā€ it answerā€™d, ā€œof Sienna: here I cleanse away with these the evil life, Soliciting with tears that He, who is, Vouchsafe

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