HELL
CANTO IIn the midway of this our mortal life,I found me in a gloomy wood, astrayGone from the path direct: and e’en to tellIt were no easy task, how savage wildThat forest, how robust and rough its growth,Which to remember only, my dismayRenews, in bitterness not far from death.Yet to discourse of what there good befell,All else will I relate discover’d there.How first I enter’d it I scarce can say,Such sleepy dullness in that instant weigh’dMy senses down, when the true path I left,But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where clos’dThe valley, that had pierc’d my heart with dread,I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broadAlready vested with that planet’s beam,Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.Then was a little respite to the fear,That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain,All of that night, so pitifully pass’d:And as a man, with difficult short breath,Forespent with toiling, ’scap’d from sea to shore,Turns to the perilous wide waste, and standsAt gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’dStruggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits,That none hath pass’d and liv’d. My weary frameAfter short pause recomforted, againI journey’d on over that lonely steep,The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascentBegan, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light,And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d,Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d, rather stroveTo check my onward going; that ofttimesWith purpose to retrace my steps I turn’d.The hour was morning’s prime, and on his wayAloft the sun ascended with those stars,That with him rose, when Love divine first mov’dThose its fair works: so that with joyous hopeAll things conspir’d to fill me, the gay skinOf that swift animal, the matin dawnAnd the sweet season. Soon that joy was chas’d,And by new dread succeeded, when in viewA lion came, ’gainst me, as it appear’d,With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolfWas at his heels, who in her leanness seem’dFull of all wants, and many a land hath madeDisconsolate ere now. She with such fearO’erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall’d,That of the height all hope I lost. As one,Who with his gain elated, sees the timeWhen all unwares is gone, he inwardlyMourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,Who coming o’er against me, by degreesImpell’d me where the sun in silence rests.While to the lower space with backward stepI fell, my ken discern’d the form one of one,Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech.When him in that great desert I espied,“Have mercy on me!” cried I out aloud,“Spirit! or living man! what e’er thou be!”He answer’d: “Now not man, man once I was,And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana bothBy country, when the power of Julius yetWas scarcely firm. At Rome my life was pastBeneath the mild Augustus, in the timeOf fabled deities and false. A bardWas I, and made Anchises’ upright sonThe subject of my song, who came from Troy,When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.But thou, say wherefore to such perils pastReturn’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mountAscendest, cause and source of all delight?”“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,From which such copious floods of eloquenceHave issued?” I with front abash’d replied.“Glory and light of all the tuneful train!May it avail me that I long with zealHave sought thy volume, and with love immenseHave conn’d it o’er. My master thou and guide!Thou he from whom alone I have deriv’dThat style, which for its beauty into fameExalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled.O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!”“For every vein and pulse throughout my frameShe hath made tremble.” He, soon as he sawThat I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needsAnother way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scapeFrom out that savage wilderness. This beast,At whom thou criest, her way will suffer noneTo pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:So bad and so accursed in her kind,That never sated is her ravenous will,Still after food more craving than before.To many an animal in wedlock vileShe fastens, and shall yet to many more,Until that greyhound come, who shall destroyHer with sharp pain. He will not life supportBy earth nor its base metals, but by love,Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall beThe land ’twixt either Feltro. In his mightShall safety to Italia’s plains arise,For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell.He with incessant chase through every townShall worry, until he to hell at lengthRestore her, thence by envy first let loose.I for thy profit pond’ring now devise,That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guideWill lead thee hence through an eternal space,Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and seeSpirits of old tormented, who invokeA second death; and those next view, who dwellContent in fire, for that they hope to come,Whene’er the time may be, among the blest,Into whose regions if thou then desireT’ ascend, a spirit worthier then IMust lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King,Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,That to his city none through me should come.He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holdsHis citadel and throne. O happy those,Whom there he chooses!” I to him in few:“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,I do beseech thee (that this ill and worseI may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst,That I Saint Peter’s gate may view, and thoseWho as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.”Onward he mov’d, I close his steps pursu’d.
In the midway of this our mortal life,I found me in a gloomy wood, astrayGone from the path direct: and e’en to tellIt were no easy task, how savage wildThat forest, how robust and rough its growth,Which to remember only, my dismayRenews, in bitterness not far from death.Yet to discourse of what there good befell,All else will I relate discover’d there.How first I enter’d it I scarce can say,Such sleepy dullness in that instant weigh’dMy senses down, when the true path I left,But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where clos’dThe valley, that had pierc’d my heart with dread,I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broadAlready vested with that planet’s beam,Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.
Then was a little respite to the fear,That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain,All of that night, so pitifully pass’d:And as a man, with difficult short breath,Forespent with toiling, ’scap’d from sea to shore,Turns to the perilous wide waste, and standsAt gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’dStruggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits,That none hath pass’d and liv’d. My weary frameAfter short pause recomforted, againI journey’d on over that lonely steep,
The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascentBegan, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light,And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d,Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d, rather stroveTo check my onward going; that ofttimesWith purpose to retrace my steps I turn’d.
The hour was morning’s prime, and on his wayAloft the sun ascended with those stars,That with him rose, when Love divine first mov’dThose its fair works: so that with joyous hopeAll things conspir’d to fill me, the gay skinOf that swift animal, the matin dawnAnd the sweet season. Soon that joy was chas’d,And by new dread succeeded, when in viewA lion came, ’gainst me, as it appear’d,
With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolfWas at his heels, who in her leanness seem’dFull of all wants, and many a land hath madeDisconsolate ere now. She with such fearO’erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall’d,That of the height all hope I lost. As one,Who with his gain elated, sees the timeWhen all unwares is gone, he inwardlyMourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,Who coming o’er against me, by degreesImpell’d me where the sun in silence rests.
While to the lower space with backward stepI fell, my ken discern’d the form one of one,Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech.When him in that great desert I espied,“Have mercy on me!” cried I out aloud,“Spirit! or living man! what e’er thou be!”
He answer’d: “Now not man, man once I was,And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana bothBy country, when the power of Julius yetWas scarcely firm. At Rome my life was pastBeneath the mild Augustus, in the timeOf fabled deities and false. A bardWas I, and made Anchises’ upright sonThe subject of my song, who came from Troy,When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.But thou, say wherefore to such perils pastReturn’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mountAscendest, cause and source of all delight?”“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,From which such copious floods of eloquenceHave issued?” I with front abash’d replied.“Glory and light of all the tuneful train!May it avail me that I long with zealHave sought thy volume, and with love immenseHave conn’d it o’er. My master thou and guide!Thou he from whom alone I have deriv’dThat style, which for its beauty into fameExalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled.O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!”
“For every vein and pulse throughout my frameShe hath made tremble.” He, soon as he sawThat I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needsAnother way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scapeFrom out that savage wilderness. This beast,At whom thou criest, her way will suffer noneTo pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:So bad and so accursed in her kind,That never sated is her ravenous will,Still after food more craving than before.To many an animal in wedlock vileShe fastens, and shall yet to many more,Until that greyhound come, who shall destroyHer with sharp pain. He will not life supportBy earth nor its base metals, but by love,Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall beThe land ’twixt either Feltro. In his mightShall safety to Italia’s plains arise,For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell.He with incessant chase through every townShall worry, until he to hell at lengthRestore her, thence by envy first let loose.I for thy profit pond’ring now devise,That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guideWill lead thee hence through an eternal space,Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and seeSpirits of old tormented, who invokeA second death; and those next view, who dwellContent in fire, for that they hope to come,Whene’er the time may be, among the blest,Into whose regions if thou then desireT’ ascend, a spirit worthier then IMust lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King,Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,That to his city none through me should come.He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holdsHis citadel and throne. O happy those,Whom there he chooses!” I to him in few:“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,I do beseech thee (that this ill and worseI may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst,That I Saint Peter’s gate may view, and thoseWho as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.”
Onward he mov’d, I close his steps pursu’d.