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HELLS dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark, | |
Of every planet reft, and palld in clouds, | |
Did never spread before the sight a veil | |
In thickness like that fog, nor to the sense | |
So palpable and gross. Entering its shade, | 5 |
Mine eye endured not with unclosed lids; | |
Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide, | |
Offering me his shoulder for a stay. | |
As the blind man behind his leader walks, | |
Lest he should err, or stumble unawares | 10 |
On what might harm him or perhaps destroy; | |
I journeyd through that bitter air and foul, | |
Still listening to my escorts warning voice, | |
Look that from me thou part not. Straight I heard | |
Voices, and each one seemd to pray for peace, | 15 |
And for compassion, to the Lamb of God | |
That taketh sins away. Their prelude still | |
Was Agnus Dei; and through all the choir, | |
One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seemd | |
The concord of their song. Are these I hear | 20 |
Spirits, O master? I exclaimd; and he, | |
Thou aimst aright: these loose the bonds of wrath. | |
Now who art thou, that through our smoke dost cleave, | |
And speakst of us, as thou thyself een yet | |
Dividedst time by calends? So one voice | 25 |
Bespake me; whence my master said. Reply; | |
And ask, if upward hence the passage lead. | |
O being! who dost make thee pure, to stand | |
Beautiful once more in thy Makers sight; | |
Along with me: and thou shalt hear and wonder. | 30 |
Thus, I whereto the spirit answering spake: | |
Long as tis lawful for me, shall my steps | |
Follow on thine; and since the cloudy smoke | |
Forbids the seeing, hearing in its stead | |
Shall keep us joind. I then forthwith began: | 35 |
Yet in my mortal swathing, I ascend | |
To higher regions; and am hither come | |
Thorough the fearful agony of Hell. | |
And, if so largely God hath doled His grace, | |
That, clean beside all modern precedent, | 40 |
He wills me to behold His kingly state; | |
From me conceal not who thou wast, ere death | |
Had loosed thee; but instruct me: and instruct | |
If rightly to the pass I tend; thy words | |
The way directing, as a safe escort. | 45 |
I was of Lombardy, and Marco calld: 1 | |
Not inexperienced of the world, that worth | |
I still affected, from which all have turnd | |
The nerveless bow aside. Thy course tends right | |
Unto the summit: and, replying thus, | 50 |
He added, I beseech thee pray for me, | |
When thou shalt come aloft. And I to him: | |
Accept my faith for pledge I will perform | |
What thou requirest. Yet one doubt remains, | |
That wrings me sorely, if I solve it not. | 55 |
Singly before it urged me, doubled now | |
By thine opinion, when I couple that | |
With one elsewhere declared; each strengthening other. | |
The world indeed is even so forlorn | |
Of all good, as thou speakst it, and so swarms | 60 |
With every evil. Yet, beseech thee, point | |
The cause out to me, that myself may see, | |
And unto others show it: for in Heaven | |
One places it, and one on earth below. | |
Then heaving forth a deep and audible sigh, | 65 |
Brother! he thus began, the world is blind; | |
And thou in truth comest from it. Ye, who live, | |
Do so each cause refer to Heaven above, | |
Een as its motion, of necessity, | |
Drew with it all that moves, If this were so, | 70 |
Free choice in you were none; nor justice would | |
There should be joy for virtue, woe for ill. | |
Your movements have their primal bent from Heaven; | |
Not all: yet said I all; what then ensues? | |
Light have ye still to follow evil or good, | 75 |
And of the will free power, which, if it stand | |
Firm and unwearied in Heavens first assay, | |
Conquers at last, so it be cherishd well, | |
Triumphant over all. To mightier force, | |
To better nature subject, ye abide | 80 |
Free, not constraind by that which forms in you | |
The reasoning mind uninfluenced of the stars. | |
If then the present race of mankind err, | |
Seek in yourselves the cause, and find it there; | |
Herein thou shalt confess me no false spy. | 85 |
Forth from His plastic hand, who charmd beholds | |
Her image ere she yet exist, the soul | |
Comes like a babe, that wantons sportively, | |
Weeping and laughing in its wayward moods; | |
As artless, and as ignorant of aught, | 90 |
Save that her Maker being one who dwells | |
With gladness ever, willingly she turns | |
To whateer yields her joy. Of some slight good | |
The flavour soon she tastes; and, snared by that, | |
With fondness she pursues it; if no guide | 95 |
Recall, no rein direct her wandering course. | |
Hence it behoved, the law should be a curb; | |
A sovereign hence behoved, whose piercing view | |
Might mark at least the fortress 2 and main tower | |
Of the true city. Laws indeed there are: | 100 |
But who is he observes them? None; not he, | |
Who goes before, the shepherd of the flock, | |
Who 3 chews the cud but doth not cleave the hoof. | |
Therefore the multitude, who see their guide | |
Strike at the very good they covet most, | 105 |
Feed there and look no further. Thus the cause | |
Is not corrupted nature in yourselves, | |
But ill-conducting, that hath turnd the world | |
To evil. Rome, that turnd it unto good, | |
Was wont to boast two suns, 4 whose several beams | 110 |
Cast light on either way, the worlds and Gods. | |
One since hath quenchd the other; and the sword | |
Is grafted on the crook; and, so conjoind, | |
Each must perforce decline to worse, unawed | |
By fear of other. If thou doubt me, mark | 115 |
The blade: each herb is judged of by its seed. | |
That land, 5 through which Adice and the Po | |
Their waters roll, was once the residence | |
Of courtesy and valour, ere the day 6 | |
That frownd on Frederick; now secure may pass | 120 |
Those limits, whosoeer hath left, for shame, | |
To talk with good men, or come near their haunts. | |
Three aged ones are still found there, in whom | |
The old time chides the new: these deem it long | |
Ere God restore them to a better world: | 125 |
The good Gherardo, 7 of Palazzo he, | |
Conrad; 8 and Guido of Castello, 9 named | |
In Gallic phrase more fitly the plain Lombard. | |
On this at last conclude. The Church of Rome, | |
Mixing two governments that ill assort, | 130 |
Hath missd her footing, fallen into the mire, | |
And there herself and burden much defiled. | |
O Marco! I replied, thine arguments | |
Convince me: and the cause I now discern, | |
Why of the heritage no portion came | 135 |
To Levis offspring. But resolve me this: | |
Who that Gherardo is, that as thou sayst | |
Is left a sample of the perishd race, | |
And for rebuke to this untoward age? | |
Either thy words, said he, deceive, or else | 140 |
Are meant to try me; that thou, speaking Tuscan, | |
Appearst not to have heard of good Gherardo; | |
The sole addition that, by which I know him; | |
Unless I borrowd from his daughter Gaïa 10 | |
Another name to grace him. God be with you. | 145 |
I bear you company no more. Behold | |
The dawn with white ray glimmering through the mist. | |
I must awaythe angel comesere he | |
Appear. He said, and would not hear me more. | |