The Divine Comedy | Page 6

greedy will,
And after food is hungrier than before.
Many the animals with whom she weds,
And more they shall be still,
until the Greyhound
Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.
He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
But upon wisdom, and on
love and virtue;
'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;
Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
On whose account the maid
Camilla died,
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;
Through every city shall he hunt her down,
Until he shall have driven
her back to Hell,
There from whence envy first did let her loose.
Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
Thou follow me, and I will
be thy guide,
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,
Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
Shalt see the
ancient spirits disconsolate,
Who cry out each one for the second
death;
And thou shalt see those who contented are
Within the fire, because
they hope to come,
Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;
To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
A soul shall be for that
than I more worthy;
With her at my departure I will leave thee;

Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
In that I was rebellious to
his law,
Wills that through me none come into his city.
He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
There is his city and his
lofty throne;
O happy he whom thereto he elects!"
And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,
By that same God whom thou
didst never know,
So that I may escape this woe and worse,
Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
That I may see
the portal of Saint Peter,
And those thou makest so disconsolate."
Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.
Inferno: Canto II
Day was departing, and the embrowned air
Released the animals that
are on earth
From their fatigues; and I the only one
Made myself ready to sustain the war,
Both of the way and likewise
of the woe,
Which memory that errs not shall retrace.
O Muses, O high genius, now assist me!
O memory, that didst write
down what I saw,
Here thy nobility shall be manifest!
And I began: "Poet, who guidest me,
Regard my manhood, if it be
sufficient,
Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me.
Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent,
While yet corruptible, unto the
world
Immortal went, and was there bodily.
But if the adversary of all evil
Was courteous, thinking of the high
effect
That issue would from him, and who, and what,
To men of intellect unmeet it seems not;
For he was of great Rome,
and of her empire
In the empyreal heaven as father chosen;

The which and what, wishing to speak the truth,
Were stablished as
the holy place, wherein
Sits the successor of the greatest Peter.
Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt,
Things did he hear,
which the occasion were
Both of his victory and the papal mantle.
Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel,
To bring back comfort
thence unto that Faith,
Which of salvation's way is the beginning.
But I, why thither come, or who concedes it?
I not Aeneas am, I am
not Paul,
Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it.
Therefore, if I resign myself to come,
I fear the coming may be
ill-advised;
Thou'rt wise, and knowest better than I speak."
And as he is, who unwills what he willed,
And by new thoughts doth
his intention change,
So that from his design he quite withdraws,
Such I became, upon that dark hillside,
Because, in thinking, I
consumed the emprise,
Which was so very prompt in the beginning.
"If I have well thy language understood,"
Replied that shade of the
Magnanimous,
"Thy soul attainted is with cowardice,
Which many times a man encumbers so,
It turns him back from
honoured enterprise,
As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy.
That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension,
I'll tell thee why I
came, and what I heard
At the first moment when I grieved for thee.
Among those was I who are in suspense,
And a fair, saintly Lady
called to me
In such wise, I besought her to command me.
Her eyes where shining brighter than the Star;
And she began to say,
gentle and low,
With voice angelical, in her own language:

'O spirit courteous of Mantua,
Of whom the fame still in the world
endures,
And shall endure, long-lasting as the world;
A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune,
Upon the desert slope
is so impeded
Upon his way, that he has turned through terror,
And may, I fear, already be so lost,
That I too late have risen to his
succour,
From that which I have heard of him in Heaven.
Bestir thee now, and with thy speech ornate,
And with what needful
is for his release,
Assist him so, that I may be consoled.
Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go;
I come from there, where I would
fain return;
Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak.
When