CANTO IVWhen by sensations of delight or pain,That any of our faculties hath seiz’d,Entire the soul collects herself, it seemsShe is intent upon that power alone,And thus the error is disprov’d which holdsThe soul not singly lighted in the breast.And therefore when as 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 he hearken, is one power,Another that, which the whole spirit hash;This is as it were bound, while that is free.This found I true by proof, hearing that spiritAnd wond’ring; for full fifty steps aloftThe sun had measur’d unobserv’d of me,When we arriv’d where all with one accordThe spirits shouted, “Here is what ye ask.”A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp’dWith forked stake of thorn by villager,When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,By which my guide, and I behind him close,Ascended solitary, when that troopDeparting left us. On Sanleo’s roadWho journeys, or to Noli low descends,Or mounts Bismantua’s height, must use his feet;But here a man had need to fly, I meanWith 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, closePent on each side, while underneath the groundAsk’d help of hands and feet. When we arriv’dNear 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?”He answer’d, “Let no step of thine recede.Behind me gain the mountain, till to usSome practis’d guide appear.” That eminenceWas lofty that no eye might reach its point,And the side proudly rising, more than lineFrom the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.I wearied thus began: “Parent belov’d!Turn, and behold how I remain alone,If thou stay not.”—” My son!” He straight reply’d,“Thus far put forth thy strength; “and to a trackPointed, that, on this side projecting, roundCircles 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 roundTo eastward, whence was our ascent: and oftMany 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’dThat from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv’dThat Poet sage how at the car of lightAmaz’d I stood, where ’twixt us and the northIts course it enter’d. Whence he thus to me:“Were Leda’s offspring now in companyOf that broad mirror, that high up and lowImparts his light beneath, thou might’st beholdThe ruddy zodiac nearer to the bearsWheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.How that may be if thou would’st think; withinPond’ring, imagine Sion with this mountPlac’d on the earth, so that to both be oneHorizon, and two hemispheres apart,Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knewTo guide his erring chariot: thou wilt seeHow of necessity by this on oneHe passes, while by that on the’ other side,If with clear view shine intellect attend.”“Of truth, kind teacher!” I exclaim’d, “so clearAught saw I never, as I now discernWhere seem’d my ken to fail, that the mid orbOf the supernal motion (which in termsOf art is called the Equator, and remainsEver between the sun and winter) for the causeThou hast assign’d, from hence toward the northDeparts, when those who in the Hebrew landInhabit, see it tow’rds the warmer part.But if it please thee, I would gladly know,How far we have to journey: for the hillMounts 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 muchThat 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 moreI answer, and thus far for certain know.”As he his words had spoken, near to usA voice there sounded: “Yet ye first perchanceMay to repose you by constraint be led.”At sound thereof each turn’d, and on the leftA huge stone we beheld, of which nor INor he before was ware. Thither we drew,find there were some, who in the shady placeBehind the rock were standing, as a manThru’ 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 showsHimself more idle, than if lazinessWere 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, proceedThou valiant one.” Straight who it was I knew;Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breathStill somewhat urg’d me) hinder my approach.And when I came to him, he scarce his headUplifted, saying “Well hast thou discern’d,How from the left the sun his chariot leads.”His lazy acts and broken words my lipsTo 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 passThe bird of God, who at the portal sits?Behooves so long that heav’n first bear me roundWithout its limits, as in life it bore,Because I to the end repentant SighsDelay’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 mountAscending, cried: “Haste thee, for see the sunHas touch’d the point meridian, and the nightNow covers with her foot Marocco’s shore.”
When by sensations of delight or pain,That any of our faculties hath seiz’d,Entire the soul collects herself, it seemsShe is intent upon that power alone,And thus the error is disprov’d which holdsThe soul not singly lighted in the breast.And therefore when as 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 he hearken, is one power,Another that, which the whole spirit hash;This is as it were bound, while that is free.
This found I true by proof, hearing that spiritAnd wond’ring; for full fifty steps aloftThe sun had measur’d unobserv’d of me,When we arriv’d where all with one accordThe spirits shouted, “Here is what ye ask.”
A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp’dWith forked stake of thorn by villager,When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,By which my guide, and I behind him close,Ascended solitary, when that troopDeparting left us. On Sanleo’s roadWho journeys, or to Noli low descends,Or mounts Bismantua’s height, must use his feet;But here a man had need to fly, I meanWith 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, closePent on each side, while underneath the groundAsk’d help of hands and feet. When we arriv’dNear 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?”
He answer’d, “Let no step of thine recede.Behind me gain the mountain, till to usSome practis’d guide appear.” That eminenceWas lofty that no eye might reach its point,And the side proudly rising, more than lineFrom the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.I wearied thus began: “Parent belov’d!Turn, and behold how I remain alone,If thou stay not.”—” My son!” He straight reply’d,“Thus far put forth thy strength; “and to a trackPointed, that, on this side projecting, roundCircles 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 roundTo eastward, whence was our ascent: and oftMany 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’dThat from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv’dThat Poet sage how at the car of lightAmaz’d I stood, where ’twixt us and the northIts course it enter’d. Whence he thus to me:“Were Leda’s offspring now in companyOf that broad mirror, that high up and lowImparts his light beneath, thou might’st beholdThe ruddy zodiac nearer to the bearsWheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.How that may be if thou would’st think; withinPond’ring, imagine Sion with this mountPlac’d on the earth, so that to both be oneHorizon, and two hemispheres apart,Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knewTo guide his erring chariot: thou wilt seeHow of necessity by this on oneHe passes, while by that on the’ other side,If with clear view shine intellect attend.”
“Of truth, kind teacher!” I exclaim’d, “so clearAught saw I never, as I now discernWhere seem’d my ken to fail, that the mid orbOf the supernal motion (which in termsOf art is called the Equator, and remainsEver between the sun and winter) for the causeThou hast assign’d, from hence toward the northDeparts, when those who in the Hebrew landInhabit, see it tow’rds the warmer part.But if it please thee, I would gladly know,How far we have to journey: for the hillMounts 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 muchThat 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 moreI answer, and thus far for certain know.”As he his words had spoken, near to usA voice there sounded: “Yet ye first perchanceMay to repose you by constraint be led.”At sound thereof each turn’d, and on the leftA huge stone we beheld, of which nor INor he before was ware. Thither we drew,find there were some, who in the shady placeBehind the rock were standing, as a manThru’ 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 showsHimself more idle, than if lazinessWere 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, proceedThou valiant one.” Straight who it was I knew;Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breathStill somewhat urg’d me) hinder my approach.And when I came to him, he scarce his headUplifted, saying “Well hast thou discern’d,How from the left the sun his chariot leads.”
His lazy acts and broken words my lipsTo 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 passThe bird of God, who at the portal sits?Behooves so long that heav’n first bear me roundWithout its limits, as in life it bore,Because I to the end repentant SighsDelay’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 mountAscending, cried: “Haste thee, for see the sunHas touch’d the point meridian, and the nightNow covers with her foot Marocco’s shore.”