The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (10 best books of all time txt) 📖

be if thou would’st think; within Pond’ring, imagine Sion with this mount Plac’d on the earth, so that to both be one Horizon, and two hemispheres apart, Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knew To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see How of necessity by this on one

He passes, while by that on the’ other side, If with clear view shine intellect attend.”

“Of truth, kind teacher!” I exclaim’d, “so clear Aught saw I never, as I now discern Where seem’d my ken to fail, that the mid orb Of the supernal motion (which in terms Of art is called the Equator, and remains Ever between the sun and winter) for the cause Thou hast assign’d, from hence toward the north Departs, when those who in the Hebrew land Inhabit, see it tow’rds the warmer part.

But if it please thee, I would gladly know, How far we have to journey: for the hill Mounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount.”

He thus to me: “Such is this steep ascent, That it is ever difficult at first, But, more a man proceeds, less evil grows.

When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much That upward going shall be easy to thee.

As in a vessel to go down the tide, Then of this path thou wilt have reach’d the end.

There hope to rest thee from thy toil. No more I answer, and thus far for certain know.”

As he his words had spoken, near to us A voice there sounded: “Yet ye first perchance May to repose you by constraint be led.”

At sound thereof each turn’d, and on the left A huge stone we beheld, of which nor I Nor he before was ware. Thither we drew, find there were some, who in the shady place Behind the rock were standing, as a man Thru’ idleness might stand. Among them one, Who seem’d to me much wearied, sat him down, And with his arms did fold his knees about, Holding his face between them downward bent.

“Sweet Sir!” I cry’d, “behold that man, who shows Himself more idle, than if laziness Were sister to him.” Straight he turn’d to us, And, o’er the thigh lifting his face, observ’d, Then in these accents spake: “Up then, proceed Thou valiant one.” Straight who it was I knew; Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath Still somewhat urg’d me) hinder my approach.

And when I came to him, he scarce his head Uplifted, saying “Well hast thou discern’d, How from the left the sun his chariot leads.”

His lazy acts and broken words my lips To laughter somewhat mov’d; when I began: “Belacqua, now for thee I grieve no more.

But tell, why thou art seated upright there?

Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?

Or blame I only shine accustom’d ways?”

Then he: “My brother, of what use to mount, When to my suffering would not let me pass The bird of God, who at the portal sits?

Behooves so long that heav’n first bear me round Without its limits, as in life it bore, Because I to the end repentant Sighs Delay’d, if prayer do not aid me first, That riseth up from heart which lives in grace.

What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?”’

Before me now the Poet up the mount Ascending, cried: “Haste thee, for see the sun Has touch’d the point meridian, and the night Now covers with her foot Marocco’s shore.”

 

CANTO V

 

Now had I left those spirits, and pursued The steps of my Conductor, when beheld Pointing the finger at me one exclaim’d: “See how it seems as if the light not shone From the left hand of him beneath, and he, As living, seems to be led on.” Mine eyes I at that sound reverting, saw them gaze Through wonder first at me, and then at me And the light broken underneath, by turns.

“Why are thy thoughts thus riveted?” my guide Exclaim’d, “that thou hast slack’d thy pace? or how Imports it thee, what thing is whisper’d here?

Come after me, and to their babblings leave The 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 one Sicklies and wastes to nought the other’s strength.”

What other could I answer save “I come?”

I said it, somewhat with that colour ting’d Which ofttimes pardon meriteth for man.

Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came, A little way before us, some who sang The “Miserere” in responsive Strains.

When they perceiv’d that through my body I Gave way not for the rays to pass, their song Straight 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 bear Tidings to them who sent you, that his frame Is real flesh. If, as I deem, to view His 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 speed Cut through the serene air at fall of night, Nor August’s clouds athwart the setting sun, That upward these did not in shorter space Return; and, there arriving, with the rest Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.

“Many,” exclaim’d the bard, “are these, who throng Around us: to petition thee they come.

Go therefore on, and listen as thou go’st.”

“O spirit! who go’st on to blessedness With the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth.”

Shouting they came, “a little rest thy step.

Look if thou any one amongst our tribe Hast e’er beheld, that tidings of him there Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go’st thou on?

Ah wherefore tarriest thou not? We all By violence died, and to our latest hour Were sinners, but then warn’d by light from heav’n, So that, repenting and forgiving, we Did issue out of life at peace with God, Who with desire to see him fills our heart.”

Then I: “The visages of all I scan Yet 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 excellent Following from world to world intent I seek.”

In answer he began: “None here distrusts Thy 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 realm Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray Those who inhabit Fano, that for me Their 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 land

Were 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 wrath Pursued me. Had I towards Mira fled, When overta’en at Oriaco, still

Might I have breath’d. But to the marsh I sped, And in the mire and rushes tangled there Fell, 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 chance Drew thee, that ne’er thy sepulture was known?”

“Oh!” answer’d he, “at Casentino’s foot A stream there courseth, nam’d Archiano, sprung In 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 speech Fail’d me, and finishing with Mary’s name I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain’d.

I will report the truth; which thou again0

Tell 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 him Th’ eternal portion bear’st with thee away For one poor tear that he deprives me of.

But of the other, other rule I make.”

“Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects That vapour dank, returning into water, Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.

That evil will, which in his intellect Still follows evil, came, and rais’d the wind And smoky mist, by virtue of the power Given by his nature. Thence the valley, soon As day was spent, he cover’d o’er with cloud From Pratomagno to the mountain range, And stretch’d the sky above, so that the air Impregnate chang’d to water. Fell the rain, And to the fosses came all that the land Contain’d not; and, as mightiest streams are wont, To the great river with such headlong sweep Rush’d, that nought stay’d its course. My stiffen’d frame Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found, And dash’d it into Arno, from my breast Loos’ning the cross, that of myself I made When 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 spake Next 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 throws He cast: but meanwhile all the company Go with the other; one before him runs, And one behind his mantle twitches, one Fast by his side bids him remember him.

He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand Is 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 fell By Ghino’s cruel arm; and him beside, Who in his chase was swallow’d by the stream.

Here Frederic Novello, with his hand Stretch’d forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, Who put the good Marzuco to such proof Of constancy. Count Orso I beheld; And from its frame a soul dismiss’d for spite And envy, as it said, but for no crime: I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here, While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant Let her beware; lest for so false a deed She herd with worse than these. When I was freed From all those spirits, who pray’d for others’ prayers To 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 bend To supplication; yet with this design Do 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 well Thy mind consider, that the sacred height Of judgment doth not stoop, because love’s flame In a short moment all fulfils, which he Who 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