Divine Comedy: Purgatory | Page 7

on this side projecting, round?Circles the hill. His words so spurr'd me on,?That I behind him clamb'ring, forc'd myself,?Till my feet press'd the circuit plain beneath.?There both together seated, turn'd we round?To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft?Many beside have with delight look'd back.
First on the nether shores I turn'd my eyes,?Then rais'd them to the sun, and wond'ring mark'd?That from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv'd?That Poet sage how at the car of light?Amaz'd I stood, where 'twixt us and the north?Its course it enter'd. Whence he thus to me:?"Were Leda's offspring now in company?Of that broad mirror, that high up and low?Imparts his light beneath, thou might'st behold?The ruddy zodiac nearer to the bears?Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.?How that may 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