The Divine Comedy - Dante Alighieri (good e books to read txt) 📗

at other, to spy out Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.

That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch Of the first onward step, from either tribe Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come, Shout Sodom and Gomorrah!” these, “The cow Pasiphae enter’d, that the beast she woo’d Might rush unto her luxury.” Then as cranes, That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly, Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off One crowd, advances th’ other; and resume Their first song weeping, and their several shout.

Again drew near my side the very same, Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks Mark’d eagerness to listen. I, who twice Their will had noted, spake: “O spirits secure, Whene’er the time may be, of peaceful end!

My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age, Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed With blood, and sinew-strung. That I no more May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft.

There is a dame on high, who wind for us This grace, by which my mortal through your realm I bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven, Fullest of love, and of most ample space, Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are, And what this multitude, that at your backs Have past behind us.” As one, mountain-bred, Rugged and clownish, if some city’s walls He chance to enter, round him stares agape, Confounded and struck dumb; e’en such appear’d Each spirit. But when rid of that amaze, (Not long the inmate of a noble heart) He, who before had question’d, thus resum’d: “O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak’st Experience of our limits, in thy bark!

Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that, For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard The snout of ‘queen,’ to taunt him. Hence their cry Of ‘Sodom,’ as they parted, to rebuke Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame.

Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we, Because the law of human kind we broke, Following like beasts our vile concupiscence, Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace Record the name of her, by whom the beast In bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds Thou know’st, and how we sinn’d. If thou by name Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now To tell so much, nor can I. Of myself Learn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I, Who having truly sorrow’d ere my last, Already cleanse me.” With such pious joy, As the two sons upon their mother gaz’d From sad Lycurgus rescu’d, such my joy (Save that I more represt it) when I heard From his own lips the name of him pronounc’d, Who was a father to me, and to those My betters, who have ever us’d the sweet And pleasant rhymes of love. So nought I heard Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went, Gazing on him; and, only for the fire, Approach’d not nearer. When my eyes were fed By looking on him, with such solemn pledge, As forces credence, I devoted me

Unto his service wholly. In reply He thus bespake me: “What from thee I hear Is grav’d so deeply on my mind, the waves Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make A whit less lively. But as now thy oath Has seal’d the truth, declare what cause impels That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray.”

“Those dulcet lays,” I answer’d, “which, as long As of our tongue the beauty does not fade, Shall make us love the very ink that trac’d them.”

“Brother!” he cried, and pointed at a shade Before him, “there is one, whose mother speech Doth owe to him a fairer ornament.

He in love ditties and the tales of prose Without a rival stands, and lets the fools Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges O’ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice They look to more than truth, and so confirm Opinion, ere by art or reason taught.

Thus many of the elder time cried up Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth By strength of numbers vanquish’d. If thou own So ample privilege, as to have gain’d Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ Is Abbot of the college, say to him One paternoster for me, far as needs For dwellers in this world, where power to sin No longer tempts us.” Haply to make way For one, that follow’d next, when that was said, He vanish’d through the fire, as through the wave A fish, that glances diving to the deep.

I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew A little onward, and besought his name, For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room.

He frankly thus began: “Thy courtesy So wins on me, I have nor power nor will To hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs, Sorely lamenting for my folly past, Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see The day, I hope for, smiling in my view.

I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up Unto the summit of the scale, in time Remember ye my suff’rings.” With such words He disappear’d in the refining flame.

 

CANTO XXVII

 

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 Above Hesperian Ebro, and new fires Meridian flash on Ganges’ yellow tide.

So day was sinking, when the’ angel of God Appear’d before us. Joy was in his mien.

Forth of the flame he stood upon the brink, And with a voice, whose lively clearness far Surpass’d our human, “Blessed are the pure In heart,” he Sang: then near him as we came, “Go ye not further, holy spirits!” he cried, “Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list Attentive to the song ye hear from thence.”

I, when I heard his saying, was as one Laid in the grave. My hands together clasp’d, And upward stretching, on the fire I look’d, And busy fancy conjur’d up the forms Erewhile beheld alive consum’d in flames.

Th’ escorting spirits turn’d with gentle looks Toward me, and the Mantuan spake: “My son, Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death.

Remember thee, remember thee, if I Safe e’en on Geryon brought thee: now I come More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now?

Of this be sure: though in its womb that flame A thousand years contain’d thee, from thy head No hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth, Approach, and with thy hands thy vesture’s hem Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief.

Lay now all fear, O lay all fear aside.

Turn hither, and come onward undismay’d.”

I still, though conscience urg’d’ no step advanc’d.

When still he saw me fix’d and obstinate, Somewhat disturb’d he cried: “Mark now, my son, From Beatrice thou art by this wall Divided.” As at Thisbe’s name the eye Of Pyramus was open’d (when life ebb’d Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance, While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn’d To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard The name, that springs forever in my breast.

He shook his forehead; and, “How long,” he said, “Linger we now?” then smil’d, as one would smile Upon a child, that eyes the fruit and yields.

Into the fire before me then he walk’d; And Statius, who erewhile no little space Had parted us, he pray’d to come behind.

I would have cast me into molten glass To cool me, when I enter’d; so intense Rag’d the conflagrant mass. The sire belov’d, To comfort me, as he proceeded, still Of Beatrice talk’d. “Her eyes,” saith he, “E’en now I seem to view.” From the other side A voice, that sang, did guide us, and the voice Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth, There where the path led upward. “Come,” we heard, “Come, blessed of my Father.” Such the sounds, That hail’d us from within a light, which shone So radiant, I could not endure the view.

“The sun,” it added, “hastes: and evening comes.

Delay not: ere the western sky is hung With blackness, strive ye for the pass.” Our way Upright within the rock arose, and fac’d Such part of heav’n, that from before my steps The beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.

Nor many stairs were overpass, when now By fading of the shadow we perceiv’d The sun behind us couch’d: and ere one face Of darkness o’er its measureless expanse Involv’d th’ horizon, and the night her lot Held individual, each of us had made A stair his pallet: not that will, but power, Had fail’d us, by the nature of that mount Forbidden further travel. As the goats, That late have skipp’d and wanton’d rapidly Upon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta’en Their supper on the herb, now silent lie And ruminate beneath the umbrage brown, While noonday rages; and the goatherd leans Upon his staff, and leaning watches them: And as the swain, that lodges out all night In quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey Disperse them; even so all three abode, I as a goat and as the shepherds they, Close pent on either side by shelving rock.

A little glimpse of sky was seen above; Yet by that little I beheld the stars In magnitude and rustle shining forth With more than wonted glory. As I lay, Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing, Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft Tidings of future hap. About the hour, As I believe, when Venus from the east First lighten’d on the mountain, she whose orb Seems always glowing with the fire of love, A lady young and beautiful, I dream’d, Was passing o’er a lea; and, as she came, Methought I saw her ever and anon

Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang: “Know ye, whoever of my name would ask, That I am Leah: for my brow to weave A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply.

To please me at the crystal mirror, here I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she Before her glass abides the livelong day, Her radiant eyes beholding, charm’d no less, Than I with this delightful task. Her joy In contemplation, as in labour mine.”

And now as glimm’ring dawn appear’d, that breaks More welcome to the pilgrim still, as he Sojourns less distant on his homeward way, Darkness from all sides fled, and with it fled My slumber; whence I rose and saw my guide Already risen. “That delicious fruit, Which through so many a branch the zealous care Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day Appease thy hunger.” Such the words I heard From Virgil’s lip; and never greeting heard So pleasant as the sounds. Within me straight Desire so grew upon desire to mount, Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings Increasing for my flight. When we had run O’er all the ladder to its topmost round, As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix’d His eyes, and thus he spake: “Both fires, my son, The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen, And art arriv’d, where of itself my ken No further reaches. I with skill and art Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take For guide. Thou hast o’ercome the steeper way, O’ercome the straighter. Lo! the sun, that darts His beam upon thy forehead! lo! the herb, The arboreta and flowers, which of itself This land pours forth profuse! Till those bright eyes With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down, Or wander where thou wilt. Expect no more Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, Free of thy