And if to these thou later wouldst aspire,
A soul shall guide thee, worthier far than I;
When I depart thee will I leave with her.
Because the Emperor who reigns on high
Wills not, since ‘gainst His laws I did rebel,
That to His city I bring any nigh.
O’er all the world He rules, there reigns as well;
There is His city and exalted seat:
O happy whom He chooses there to dwell!’
And I to him: ‘Poet, I thee entreat,
Even by that God who was to thee unknown,
That I may ‘scape this present ill, nor meet
With worse, conduct me whither thou hast shown,
That I may see Saint Peter’s gate, and those
Whom thou reportest in such misery thrown.’
He moved away; behind him held I close.
Canto II.
It was the close of day; the twilight brown
All living things on earth was setting free
From toil, while I preparing was alone
To face the battle which awaited me,
As well of ruth as of the perilous quest,
Now to be limned by faultless memory.
Help, lofty genius! Muses, manifest
Goodwill to me! Recording what befell,
Do thou, O mind, now show thee at thy best!
I thus began: ‘Poet, and Guide as well,
Ere trusting me on this adventure wide,
Judge if my strength of it be capable.
Thou say’st that Silvius’ father, ere he died,
Still mortal to the world immortal went,
There in the body some time to abide.
Yet that the Foe of evil was content
That he should come, seeing what high effect,
And who and what should from him claim descent,
No room for doubt can thoughtful man detect:
For he of noble Rome, and of her sway
Imperial, in high Heaven grew sire elect.
And both of these, the very truth to say,
Were founded for the holy seat, whereon
The Greater Peter’s follower sits to-day.
Upon this journey, praised by thee, were known
And heard things by him, to the which he owed
His triumph, whence derives the Papal gown.
That path the Chosen Vessel later trod
So of the faith assurance to receive,
Which is beginning of salvation’s road.
But why should I go? Who will sanction give?
For I am no Æneas and no Paul;
Me worthy of it no one can believe,
Nor I myself. Hence venturing at thy call,
I dread the journey may prove rash. But vain
For me to reason; wise, thou know’st it all.’
Like one no more for what he wished for fain,
Whose purpose shares mutation with his thought
Till from the thing begun he turns again;
On that dim slope so grew I all distraught,
Because, by brooding on it, the design
I shrank from, which before I warmly sought.
‘If well I understand these words of thine,’
The shade of him magnanimous made reply,
‘Thy soul ‘neath cowardice hath sunk supine,
Which a man often is so burdened by,
It makes him falter from a noble aim,
As beasts at objects ill-distinguished shy.
To loose thee from this terror, why I came,
And what the speech I heard, I will relate,
When first of all I pitied thee. A dame
Hailed me where I ‘mongst those in dubious state
Had my abode: so blest was she and fair,
Her to command me I petitioned straight.
Her eyes were shining brighter than the star;
And she began to say in accents sweet
And tuneable as angel’s voices are:
“O Mantuan Shade, in courtesy complete,
Whose fame survives on earth, nor less shall grow
Through all the ages, while the world hath seat;
A friend of mine, with fortune for his foe,
Has met with hindrance on his desert way,
And, terror-smitten, can no further go,
But turns; and that he is too far astray,
And that I rose too late for help, I dread,
From what in Heaven concerning him they say.
Go, with thy speech persuasive him bestead,
And with all needful help his guardian prove,
That touching him I may be comforted.
Know, it is Beatrice seeks thee thus to move.
Thence come I where I to return am fain:
My coming and my plea are ruled by love.
When I shall stand before my Lord again,
Often to Him I will renew thy praise.”
And here she ceased, nor did I dumb remain:
“O virtuous Lady, thou alone the race
Of man exaltest ‘bove all else that dwell
Beneath the heaven which wheels in narrowest space.
To do thy bidding pleases me so well,
Though ‘twere already done ‘twere all too slow;
Thy wish at greater length no need to tell.
But say, what tempted thee to come thus low,
Even to this centre, from the region vast,
Whither again thou art on fire to go?”
“This much to learn since a desire thou hast,”
She answered, “briefly thee I’ll satisfy,
How, coming here, I through no terrors passed.
We are, of right, such things alarmèd by,
As have the power to hurt us; all beside
Are harmless, and not fearful. Wherefore I
Thus formed by God, His bounty is so wide
Am left untouched by all your miseries,
And through this burning unmolested glide.
A noble lady is in Heaven, who sighs
O’er the obstruction where I’d have thee go,
And breaks the rigid edict of the skies.
Calling on Lucia, thus she made her know
What she desired: ‘Thy vassal now hath need
Of help from thee; do thou then helpful show.’
Lucia, who hates all cruelty, in speed
Rose, and approaching where I sat at rest,
To venerable Rachel giving heed,
Me: ‘Beatrice, true praise of God,’ addressed;
‘Why not help him who had such love for thee,
And from the vulgar throng to win thee pressed?
Dost thou not hear him weeping pitiably,
Nor mark the death now threatening him upon
A flood than which less awful is the sea?’
Never on earth did any ever run,
Allured by profit or impelled by fear,
Swifter than I, when speaking she had done,
From sitting ‘mong the blest descended here,
My trust upon thy comely rhetoric cast,
Which honours thee and those who lend it ear.”
When of these words she spoken had the last,
She turned aside bright eyes which tears did fill,
And I by this was urged to greater haste.
And so it was I joined thee by her will,
And from that raging beast delivered thee,
Which barred the near way up the beauteous hill.
What ails thee then? Why thus a laggard be?
Why cherish in thy heart a craven fear?
Where is thy franchise, where thy bravery,
When three such blessed ladies have a care
For thee in Heaven’s court, and these words of mine
Thee for such wealth of blessedness prepare?’
As flowers, by chills nocturnal made to pine
And shut themselves, when touched by morning bright
> Upon their stems arise, full-blown and fine;
So of my faltering courage changed the plight,
And such good cheer ran through my heart, it spurred
Me to declare, like free-born generous wight:
‘O pitiful, who for my succour stirred!
And thou how full of courtesy to run,
Alert in service, hearkening her true word!
Thou with thine eloquence my heart hast won
To keen desire to go, and the intent
Which first I held I now no longer shun.
Therefore proceed; my will with thine is bent:
Thou art my Guide, Lord, Master; thou alone!’
Thus I; and with him, as he forward went,
The steep and rugged road I entered on.
Canto III.
Through me to the city dolorous lies the way,
Who pass through me shall pains eternal prove,
Through me are reached the people lost for aye.
‘Twas Justice did my Glorious Maker move;
I was created by the Power Divine,
The Highest Wisdom, and the Primal Love.
No thing’s creation earlier was than mine,
If not eternal; I for aye endure:
Ye who make entrance, every hope resign!
These words beheld I writ in hue obscure
On summit of a gateway; wherefore I:
‘Hard is their meaning, Master.’ Like one sure
Beforehand of my thought, he made reply:
‘Here it behoves to leave all fears behind;
All cowardice behoveth here to die.
For now the place I told thee of we find,
Where thou the miserable folk shouldst see
Who the true good of reason have resigned.’
Then, with a glance of glad serenity,
He took my hand in his, which made me bold,
And brought me in where secret things there be.
There sighs and plaints and wailings uncontrolled
The dim and starless air resounded through;
Nor at the first could I from tears withhold.
The various languages and words of woe,
The uncouth accents, mixed with angry cries
And smiting palms and voices loud and low,
Composed a tumult which doth circling rise
For ever in that air obscured for aye;
As when the sand upon the whirlwind flies.
And, horror-stricken, I began to say:
‘Master, what sound can this be that I hear,
And who the folk thus whelmed in misery?’
And he replied: ‘In this condition drear
Are held the souls of that inglorious crew
Who lived unhonoured, but from guilt kept clear.
Mingled they are with caitiff angels, who,
Though from avowed rebellion they refrained,
Disloyal to God, did selfish ends pursue.
Heaven hurled them forth, lest they her beauty stained;
Received they are not by the nether hell,
Else triumph thence were by the guilty gained.’
And I: ‘What bear they, Master, to compel
Their lamentations in such grievous tone?’
He answered: ‘In few words I will thee tell.
No hope of death is to the wretches known;
So dim the life and abject where they sigh
They count all sufferings easier than their own.
Of them the world endures no memory;
Mercy and justice them alike disdain.
Speak we not of them: glance, and pass them by.’
I saw a banner when I looked again,
Which, always whirling round, advanced in haste
As if despising steadfast to remain.
And after it so many people chased
In long procession, I should not have said
That death had ever wrought such countless waste.
Some first I recognized, and then the shade
I saw and knew of him, the search to close,
Whose dastard soul the great refusal made.
Straightway I knew and was assured that those
Were of the tribe of caitiffs, even the race
Despised of God and hated of His foes.
The wretches, who when living showed no trace
Of life, went naked, and were fiercely stung
By wasps and hornets swarming in that place.
Blood drawn by these out of their faces sprung
And, mingled with their tears, was at their feet
Sucked up by loathsome worms it fell among.
Casting mine eyes beyond, of these replete,
People I saw beside an ample stream,
Whereon I said: ‘O Master, I entreat,
Tell who these are, and by what law they seem
Impatient till across the river gone;
As I distinguish by this feeble gleam.’
And he: ‘These things shall unto thee be known
What time our footsteps shall at rest be found
Upon the woful shores of Acheron.’
Then with ashamèd eyes cast on the ground,
Fearing my words were irksome in his ear,
Until we reached the stream I made no sound.
And toward us, lo, within a bark drew near
A veteran who with ancient hair was white,
Shouting: ‘Ye souls depraved, be filled with fear.
Hope never more of Heaven to win the sight;
I come to take you to the other strand,
To frost and fire and everlasting night.
And thou, O living soul, who there dost stand,
From ‘mong the dead withdraw thee.’ Then, aware
That not at all I stirred at his command,
‘By other ways, from other ports thou’lt fare;
But they will lead thee to another shore,
And ‘tis a skiff more buoyant must thee bear.’
And then my leader: ‘Charon, be not sore,
For thus it has been willed where power ne’er came
Short of the will; thou therefore ask no more.’
And hereupon his shaggy cheeks grew tame
Who is the pilot of the livid pool,
And round about whose eyes glowed wheels of flame.
But all the shades, naked and spent with dool,
Stood chattering with their teeth, and changing hue
Soon as they heard the words unmerciful.
God they blasphemed, and families whence they grew;
Mankind, the time, place, seed in which began
Their lives, and seed whence they were born. Then drew
They crowding all together, as they ran,
Bitterly weeping, to the accursed shore
Predestinate for every godless man.
The demon Charon, with eyes evermore
Aglow, makes signals, gathering them all;
And whoso lingers smiteth with his oar.
And as the faded leaves of autumn fall
One after the other, till at last the bough
Sees on the ground spread all its coronal;
With Adam’s evil seed so haps it now:
At signs each falls in turn from off the coast,
As fowls into the ambush fluttering go.
The gloomy waters thus by them are crossed,
And ere upon the further side they land,
On this, anew, is gathering a host.
‘Son,’ said the courteous Master, ‘understand,
All such as in the wrath of God expire,
From every country muster on this strand.
To cross the river they are all on fire;
Their wills by Heavenly justice goaded on
Until their terror merges in desire.
This way no righteous soul has ever gone;
Wherefore of thee if Charon should complain,
Now art thou sure what by his words is shown.’
Trembled so violently, my terror past
Recalling now, I’m bathed in sweat again.
Out of the tearful ground there moaned a blast
Whence lightning flashed forth red and terrible,
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