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

own arbitrement to choose, Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense Were henceforth error. I invest thee then With crown and mitre, sovereign o’er thyself.”

 

CANTO XXVIII

 

Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade With lively greenness the new-springing day Attemper’d, eager now to roam, and search Its limits round, forthwith I left the bank, Along the champain leisurely my way Pursuing, o’er the ground, that on all sides Delicious odour breath’d. A pleasant air, That intermitted never, never veer’d, Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind Of softest influence: at which the sprays, Obedient all, lean’d trembling to that part Where first the holy mountain casts his shade, Yet were not so disorder’d, but that still Upon their top the feather’d quiristers Applied their wonted art, and with full joy Welcom’d those hours of prime, and warbled shrill Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays inept tenor; even as from branch to branch, Along the piney forests on the shore Of Chiassi, rolls the gath’ring melody, When Eolus hath from his cavern loos’d The dripping south. Already had my steps, Though slow, so far into that ancient wood Transported me, I could not ken the place Where I had enter’d, when behold! my path Was bounded by a rill, which to the left With little rippling waters bent the grass, That issued from its brink. On earth no wave How clean soe’er, that would not seem to have Some mixture in itself, compar’d with this, Transpicuous, clear; yet darkly on it roll’d, Darkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne’er Admits or sun or moon light there to shine.

My feet advanc’d not; but my wond’ring eyes Pass’d onward, o’er the streamlet, to survey The tender May-bloom, flush’d through many a hue, In prodigal variety: and there,

As object, rising suddenly to view, That from our bosom every thought beside With the rare marvel chases, I beheld A lady all alone, who, singing, went, And culling flower from flower, wherewith her way Was all o’er painted. “Lady beautiful!

Thou, who (if looks, that use to speak the heart, Are worthy of our trust), with love’s own beam Dost warm thee,” thus to her my speech I fram’d: “Ah! please thee hither towards the streamlet bend Thy steps so near, that I may list thy song.

Beholding thee and this fair place, methinks, I call to mind where wander’d and how look’d Proserpine, in that season, when her child The mother lost, and she the bloomy spring.”

As when a lady, turning in the dance, Doth foot it featly, and advances scarce One step before the other to the ground; Over the yellow and vermilion flowers Thus turn’d she at my suit, most maiden-like, Valing her sober eyes, and came so near, That I distinctly caught the dulcet sound.

Arriving where the limped waters now Lav’d the green sward, her eyes she deign’d to raise, That shot such splendour on me, as I ween Ne’er glanced from Cytherea’s, when her son Had sped his keenest weapon to her heart.

Upon the opposite bank she stood and smil’d through her graceful fingers shifted still The intermingling dyes, which without seed That lofty land unbosoms. By the stream Three paces only were we sunder’d: yet The Hellespont, where Xerxes pass’d it o’er, (A curb for ever to the pride of man) Was by Leander not more hateful held For floating, with inhospitable wave ‘Twixt Sestus and Abydos, than by me That flood, because it gave no passage thence.

“Strangers ye come, and haply in this place, That cradled human nature in its birth, Wond’ring, ye not without suspicion view My smiles: but that sweet strain of psalmody, ‘Thou, Lord! hast made me glad,’ will give ye light, Which may uncloud your minds. And thou, who stand’st The foremost, and didst make thy suit to me, Say if aught else thou wish to hear: for I Came prompt to answer every doubt of thine.”

She spake; and I replied: “l know not how To reconcile this wave and rustling sound Of forest leaves, with what I late have heard Of opposite report.” She answering thus: “I will unfold the cause, whence that proceeds, Which makes thee wonder; and so purge the cloud That hath enwraps thee. The First Good, whose joy Is only in himself, created man

For happiness, and gave this goodly place, His pledge and earnest of eternal peace.

Favour’d thus highly, through his own defect He fell, and here made short sojourn; he fell, And, for the bitterness of sorrow, chang’d Laughter unblam’d and ever-new delight.

That vapours none, exhal’d from earth beneath, Or from the waters (which, wherever heat Attracts them, follow), might ascend thus far To vex man’s peaceful state, this mountain rose So high toward the heav’n, nor fears the rage 0f elements contending, from that part Exempted, where the gate his limit bars.

Because the circumambient air throughout With its first impulse circles still, unless Aught interpose to cheek or thwart its course; Upon the summit, which on every side To visitation of th’ impassive air Is open, doth that motion strike, and makes Beneath its sway th’ umbrageous wood resound: And in the shaken plant such power resides, That it impregnates with its efficacy The voyaging breeze, upon whose subtle plume That wafted flies abroad; and th’ other land Receiving (as ‘t is worthy in itself, Or in the clime, that warms it), doth conceive, And from its womb produces many a tree Of various virtue. This when thou hast heard, The marvel ceases, if in yonder earth Some plant without apparent seed be found To fix its fibrous stem. And further learn, That with prolific foison of all seeds, This holy plain is fill’d, and in itself Bears fruit that ne’er was pluck’d on other soil.

“The water, thou behold’st, springs not from vein, As stream, that intermittently repairs And spends his pulse of life, but issues forth From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure; And by the will omnific, full supply Feeds whatsoe’er On either side it pours; On this devolv’d with power to take away Remembrance of offence, on that to bring Remembrance back of every good deed done.

From whence its name of Lethe on this part; On th’ other Eunoe: both of which must first Be tasted ere it work; the last exceeding All flavours else. Albeit thy thirst may now Be well contented, if I here break off, No more revealing: yet a corollary I freely give beside: nor deem my words Less grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass The stretch of promise. They, whose verse of yore The golden age recorded and its bliss, On the Parnassian mountain, of this place Perhaps had dream’d. Here was man guiltless, here Perpetual spring and every fruit, and this The far-fam’d nectar.” Turning to the bards, When she had ceas’d, I noted in their looks A smile at her conclusion; then my face Again directed to the lovely dame.

 

CANTO XXIX

 

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 Singly across the sylvan shadows, one Eager to view and one to ‘scape the sun, So mov’d she on, against the current, up The verdant rivage. I, her mincing step Observing, with as tardy step pursued.

Between us not an hundred paces trod, The bank, on each side bending equally, Gave me to face the orient. Nor our way Far onward brought us, when to me at once She turn’d, and cried: “My brother! look and hearken.”

And lo! a sudden lustre ran across Through the great forest on all parts, so bright I doubted whether lightning were abroad; But that expiring ever in the spleen, That doth unfold it, and this during still And waxing still in splendor, made me question What it might be: and a sweet melody Ran through the luminous air. Then did I chide With warrantable zeal the hardihood Of our first parent, for that there were earth Stood in obedience to the heav’ns, she only, Woman, the creature of an hour, endur’d not Restraint of any veil: which had she borne Devoutly, joys, ineffable as these, Had from the first, and long time since, been mine.

While through that wilderness of primy sweets That never fade, suspense I walk’d, and yet Expectant of beatitude more high,

Before us, like a blazing fire, the air Under the green boughs glow’d; and, for a song, Distinct the sound of melody was heard.

O ye thrice holy virgins! for your sakes If e’er I suffer’d hunger, cold and watching, Occasion calls on me to crave your bounty.

Now through my breast let Helicon his stream Pour copious; and Urania with her choir Arise to aid me: while the verse unfolds Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought.

Onward a space, what seem’d seven trees of gold, The intervening distance to mine eye Falsely presented; but when I was come So near them, that no lineament was lost Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense, Then did the faculty, that ministers Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold Distinguish, and it th’ singing trace the sound “Hosanna.” Above, their beauteous garniture Flam’d with more ample lustre, than the moon Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.

I turn’d me full of wonder to my guide; And he did answer with a countenance Charg’d with no less amazement: whence my view Reverted to those lofty things, which came So slowly moving towards us, that the bride Would have outstript them on her bridal day.

The lady called aloud: “Why thus yet burns Affection in thee for these living, lights, And dost not look on that which follows them?”

I straightway mark’d a tribe behind them walk, As if attendant on their leaders, cloth’d With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth Was never. On my left, the wat’ry gleam Borrow’d, and gave me back, when there I look’d.

As in a mirror, my left side portray’d.

When I had chosen on the river’s edge Such station, that the distance of the stream Alone did separate me; there I stay’d My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld The flames go onward, leaving, as they went, The air behind them painted as with trail Of liveliest pencils! so distinct were mark’d All those sev’n listed colours, whence the sun Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone.

These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond My vision; and ten paces, as I guess, Parted the outermost. Beneath a sky So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders, By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown’d.

All sang one song: “Blessed be thou among The daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness Blessed for ever!” After that the flowers, And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink, Were free from that elected race; as light In heav’n doth second light, came after them Four animals, each crown’d with verdurous leaf.

With six wings each was plum’d, the plumage full Of eyes, and th’ eyes of Argus would be such, Were they endued with life. Reader, more rhymes Will not waste in shadowing forth their form: For other need no straitens, that in this I may not give my bounty room. But read Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north How he beheld them come by Chebar’s flood, In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such As thou shalt find them character’d by him, Here were they; save as to the pennons; there, From him departing, John accords with me.

The space, surrounded by the four, enclos’d A car triumphal: on two wheels it came Drawn at a Gryphon’s neck; and he above Stretch’d either wing uplifted, ‘tween the midst And the three listed hues, on each side three; So that the wings did cleave or injure none; And out of