| |
| WHEN by sensations of delight or pain, | |
| That any of our faculties hath seized, | |
| Entire the soul collects herself, it seems | |
| She is intent upon that power alone; | |
| And thus the error is disproved, which holds | 5 |
| The soul not singly lighted in the breast. | |
| And therefore whenas aught is heard or seen, | |
| That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn’d, | |
| Time passes, and a man perceives it not. | |
| For that, whereby we hearken, is one power; | 10 |
| Another that, which the whole spirit hath: | |
| This is as it were bound, while that is free. | |
| This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit | |
| And wondering; for full fifty steps 1 aloft | |
| The sun had measured, unobserved of me, | 15 |
| When we arrived where all with one accord | |
| The spirits shouted, “Here is what ye ask.” | |
| A larger aperture oft-times is stopt, | |
| With forked stake of thorn by villager, | |
| When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path, | 20 |
| By which my guide, and I behind him close, | |
| Ascended solitary, when that troop | |
| Departing left us. On Sanleo’s 2 road | |
| Who journeys, or to Noli 3 low descends, | |
| Or mounts Bismantua’s 4 height, must use his feet; | 25 |
| Bat here a man had need to fly, I mean | |
| With the swift wing and plumes of high desire, | |
| Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope, | |
| And with light furnish’d to direct my way. | |
| We through the broken rock ascended, close | 30 |
| Pent on each side, while underneath the ground | |
| Ask’d help of hands and feet. When we arrived | |
| Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank, | |
| Where the plain level open’d, I exclaim’d, | |
| “O Master! say, which way can we proceed.” | 35 |
| He answer’d, “Let no step of thine recede. | |
| Behind me gain the mountain, till to us | |
| Some practised guide appear.” That eminence | |
| Was lofty, that no eye might reach its point; | |
| And the side proudly rising, more than line | 40 |
| From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn. | |
| I, wearied, thus began: “Parent beloved! | |
| Turn and behold how I remain alone, | |
| If thou stay not.”—“My son!” he straight replied, | |
| “Thus far put forth thy strength;” and to a track | 45 |
| Pointed, that, on this side projecting, round | |
| Circles the hill. His words so spurr’d me on, | |
| That I, behind him, clambering, forced myself, | |
| Till my feet press’d the circuit plain beneath. | |
| There both together seated, turn’d we round | 50 |
| To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft | |
| Many beside have with delight look’d back. | |
| First on the nether shores I turn’d mine eyes, | |
| Then raised them to the sun, and wondering mark’d | |
| That from the left it smote us. Soon perceived | 55 |
| That poet sage, how at the car of light | |
| Amazed 5 I stood, where ’twixt us and the north | |
| Its course it enter’d. Whence he thus to me: | |
| “Were Leda’s offspring 6 now in company | |
| Of that broad mirror, that high up and low | 60 |
| Imparts his light beneath, thou mightst behold | |
| The ruddy Zodiac nearer to the Bears | |
| Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook. | |
| How that may be, if thou wouldst think; within | |
| Pondering, imagine Sion with this mount | 65 |
| Placed on the earth, so that to both be one | |
| Horizon, and two hemispheres apart, | |
| Where lies the path 7 that Phaëton ill knew | |
| To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see 8 | |
| How of necessity by this, on one, | 70 |
| He passes, while by that on the other side; | |
| If with clear view thine 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 9 | 75 |
| Of the supernal motion (which in terms | |
| Of art is call’d the Equator, and remains | |
| Still ’twixt the sun and winter) for the cause | |
| Thou hast assign’d, from hence toward the north | |
| Departs, when those, who in the Hebrew land | 80 |
| Were dwellers, saw it towards 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, | 85 |
| That it is ever difficult at first, | |
| But more a man proceeds, less evil grows. 10 | |
| 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, | 90 |
| 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 from certain know.” | |
| As he his words had spoken, near to us | |
| A voice there sounded: “Yet ye first perchance | 95 |
| 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; | |
| And there were some, who in the shady place | 100 |
| Behind the rock were standing, as a man | |
| Through idleness might stand. Among them one, | |
| Who seem’d to be much wearied, sat him down, | |
| And with his arms did fold his knees about, | |
| Holding his face between them downward bent. | 105 |
| “Sweet Sir!” I cried, “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, observed, | |
| Then in these accents spake: “Up then, proceed, | 110 |
| Thou valiant one.” Straight who it was I knew; | |
| Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath | |
| Still somewhat urged me) hinder my approach. | |
| And when I came to him, he scarce his head | |
| Uplifted, saying, “Well has thou discern’d, | 115 |
| How from the left the sun his chariot leads?” | |
| His lazy acts and broken words my lips | |
| To laughter somewhat moved; when I began: | |
| “Belacqua, 11 now for thee I grieve no more. | |
| But tell, why thou art seated upright there. | 120 |
| Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence? | |
| Or blame I only thine 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? | 125 |
| Behoves so long that Heaven 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. | 130 |
| 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.” | 135 |
