CANTO IVBroke the deep slumber in my brain a crashOf heavy thunder, that I shook myself,As one by main force rous’d. Risen upright,My rested eyes I mov’d around, and search’dWith fixed ken to know what place it was,Wherein I stood. For certain on the brinkI found me of the lamentable vale,The dread abyss, that joins a thund’rous soundOf plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,And thick with clouds o’erspread, mine eye in vainExplor’d its bottom, nor could aught discern.“Now let us to the blind world there beneathDescend;” the bard began all pale of look:“I go the first, and thou shalt follow next.”Then I his alter’d hue perceiving, thus:“How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?”He then: “The anguish of that race belowWith pity stains my cheek, which thou for fearMistakest. Let us on. Our length of wayUrges to haste.” Onward, this said, he mov’d;And ent’ring led me with him on the boundsOf the first circle, that surrounds th’ abyss.Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heardExcept of sighs, that made th’ eternal airTremble, not caus’d by tortures, but from griefFelt by those multitudes, many and vast,Of men, women, and infants. Then to meThe gentle guide: “Inquir’st thou not what spiritsAre these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou passFarther, I would thou know, that these of sinWere blameless; and if aught they merited,It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,The portal to thy faith. If they beforeThe Gospel liv’d, they serv’d not God aright;And among such am I. For these defects,And for no other evil, we are lost;“Only so far afflicted, that we liveDesiring without hope.” So grief assail’dMy heart at hearing this, for well I knewSuspended in that Limbo many a soulOf mighty worth. “O tell me, sire rever’d!Tell me, my master!” I began through wishOf full assurance in that holy faith,Which vanquishes all error; “say, did e’erAny, or through his own or other’s merit,Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?”Piercing the secret purport of my speech,He answer’d: “I was new to that estate,When I beheld a puissant one arriveAmongst us, with victorious trophy crown’d.He forth the shade of our first parent drew,Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv’d,Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,Israel with his sire and with his sons,Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,And others many more, whom he to blissExalted. Before these, be thou assur’d,No spirit of human kind was ever sav’d.”We, while he spake, ceas’d not our onward road,Still passing through the wood; for so I nameThose spirits thick beset. We were not farOn this side from the summit, when I kenn’dA flame, that o’er the darken’d hemispherePrevailing shin’d. Yet we a little spaceWere distant, not so far but I in partDiscover’d, that a tribe in honour highThat place possess’d. “O thou, who every artAnd science valu’st! who are these, that boastSuch honour, separate from all the rest?”He answer’d: “The renown of their great namesThat echoes through your world above, acquiresFavour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc’d.”Meantime a voice I heard: “Honour the bardSublime! his shade returns that left us late!”No sooner ceas’d the sound, than I beheldFour mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.When thus my master kind began: “Mark him,Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,The other three preceding, as their lord.This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:Flaccus the next in satire’s vein excelling;The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.Because they all that appellation own,With which the voice singly accosted me,Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge.”So I beheld united the bright schoolOf him the monarch of sublimest song,That o’er the others like an eagle soars.When they together short discourse had held,They turn’d to me, with salutation kindBeck’ning me; at the which my master smil’d:Nor was this all; but greater honour stillThey gave me, for they made me of their tribe;And I was sixth amid so learn’d a band.Far as the luminous beacon on we pass’dSpeaking of matters, then befitting wellTo speak, now fitter left untold. At footOf a magnificent castle we arriv’d,Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and roundDefended by a pleasant stream. O’er thisAs o’er dry land we pass’d. Next through seven gatesI with those sages enter’d, and we cameInto a mead with lively verdure fresh.There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes aroundMajestically mov’d, and in their portBore eminent authority; they spakeSeldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet.We to one side retir’d, into a placeOpen and bright and lofty, whence each oneStood manifest to view. IncontinentThere on the green enamel of the plainWere shown me the great spirits, by whose sightI am exalted in my own esteem.Electra there I saw accompaniedBy many, among whom Hector I knew,Anchises’ pious son, and with hawk’s eyeCaesar all arm’d, and by Camilla therePenthesilea. On the other sideOld King Latinus, seated by his childLavinia, and that Brutus I beheld,Who Tarquin chas’d, Lucretia, Cato’s wifeMarcia, with Julia and Cornelia there;And sole apart retir’d, the Soldan fierce.Then when a little more I rais’d my brow,I spied the master of the sapient throng,Seated amid the philosophic train.Him all admire, all pay him rev’rence due.There Socrates and Plato both I mark’d,Nearest to him in rank; Democritus,Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes,With Heraclitus, and Empedocles,And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage,Zeno, and Dioscorides well readIn nature’s secret lore. Orpheus I mark’dAnd Linus, Tully and moral Seneca,Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates,Galenus, Avicen, and him who madeThat commentary vast, Averroes.Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimesMy words fall short of what bechanc’d. In twoThe six associates part. Another wayMy sage guide leads me, from that air serene,Into a climate ever vex’d with storms:And to a part I come where no light shines.
CANTO IVBroke the deep slumber in my brain a crashOf heavy thunder, that I shook myself,As one by main force rous’d. Risen upright,My rested eyes I mov’d around, and search’dWith fixed ken to know what place it was,Wherein I stood. For certain on the brinkI found me of the lamentable vale,The dread abyss, that joins a thund’rous soundOf plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,And thick with clouds o’erspread, mine eye in vainExplor’d its bottom, nor could aught discern.“Now let us to the blind world there beneathDescend;” the bard began all pale of look:“I go the first, and thou shalt follow next.”Then I his alter’d hue perceiving, thus:“How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?”He then: “The anguish of that race belowWith pity stains my cheek, which thou for fearMistakest. Let us on. Our length of wayUrges to haste.” Onward, this said, he mov’d;And ent’ring led me with him on the boundsOf the first circle, that surrounds th’ abyss.Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heardExcept of sighs, that made th’ eternal airTremble, not caus’d by tortures, but from griefFelt by those multitudes, many and vast,Of men, women, and infants. Then to meThe gentle guide: “Inquir’st thou not what spiritsAre these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou passFarther, I would thou know, that these of sinWere blameless; and if aught they merited,It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,The portal to thy faith. If they beforeThe Gospel liv’d, they serv’d not God aright;And among such am I. For these defects,And for no other evil, we are lost;“Only so far afflicted, that we liveDesiring without hope.” So grief assail’dMy heart at hearing this, for well I knewSuspended in that Limbo many a soulOf mighty worth. “O tell me, sire rever’d!Tell me, my master!” I began through wishOf full assurance in that holy faith,Which vanquishes all error; “say, did e’erAny, or through his own or other’s merit,Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?”Piercing the secret purport of my speech,He answer’d: “I was new to that estate,When I beheld a puissant one arriveAmongst us, with victorious trophy crown’d.He forth the shade of our first parent drew,Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv’d,Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,Israel with his sire and with his sons,Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,And others many more, whom he to blissExalted. Before these, be thou assur’d,No spirit of human kind was ever sav’d.”We, while he spake, ceas’d not our onward road,Still passing through the wood; for so I nameThose spirits thick beset. We were not farOn this side from the summit, when I kenn’dA flame, that o’er the darken’d hemispherePrevailing shin’d. Yet we a little spaceWere distant, not so far but I in partDiscover’d, that a tribe in honour highThat place possess’d. “O thou, who every artAnd science valu’st! who are these, that boastSuch honour, separate from all the rest?”He answer’d: “The renown of their great namesThat echoes through your world above, acquiresFavour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc’d.”Meantime a voice I heard: “Honour the bardSublime! his shade returns that left us late!”No sooner ceas’d the sound, than I beheldFour mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.When thus my master kind began: “Mark him,Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,The other three preceding, as their lord.This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:Flaccus the next in satire’s vein excelling;The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.Because they all that appellation own,With which the voice singly accosted me,Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge.”So I beheld united the bright schoolOf him the monarch of sublimest song,That o’er the others like an eagle soars.When they together short discourse had held,They turn’d to me, with salutation kindBeck’ning me; at the which my master smil’d:Nor was this all; but greater honour stillThey gave me, for they made me of their tribe;And I was sixth amid so learn’d a band.Far as the luminous beacon on we pass’dSpeaking of matters, then befitting wellTo speak, now fitter left untold. At footOf a magnificent castle we arriv’d,Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and roundDefended by a pleasant stream. O’er thisAs o’er dry land we pass’d. Next through seven gatesI with those sages enter’d, and we cameInto a mead with lively verdure fresh.There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes aroundMajestically mov’d, and in their portBore eminent authority; they spakeSeldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet.We to one side retir’d, into a placeOpen and bright and lofty, whence each oneStood manifest to view. IncontinentThere on the green enamel of the plainWere shown me the great spirits, by whose sightI am exalted in my own esteem.Electra there I saw accompaniedBy many, among whom Hector I knew,Anchises’ pious son, and with hawk’s eyeCaesar all arm’d, and by Camilla therePenthesilea. On the other sideOld King Latinus, seated by his childLavinia, and that Brutus I beheld,Who Tarquin chas’d, Lucretia, Cato’s wifeMarcia, with Julia and Cornelia there;And sole apart retir’d, the Soldan fierce.Then when a little more I rais’d my brow,I spied the master of the sapient throng,Seated amid the philosophic train.Him all admire, all pay him rev’rence due.There Socrates and Plato both I mark’d,Nearest to him in rank; Democritus,Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes,With Heraclitus, and Empedocles,And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage,Zeno, and Dioscorides well readIn nature’s secret lore. Orpheus I mark’dAnd Linus, Tully and moral Seneca,Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates,Galenus, Avicen, and him who madeThat commentary vast, Averroes.Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimesMy words fall short of what bechanc’d. In twoThe six associates part. Another wayMy sage guide leads me, from that air serene,Into a climate ever vex’d with storms:And to a part I come where no light shines.
Broke the deep slumber in my brain a crashOf heavy thunder, that I shook myself,As one by main force rous’d. Risen upright,My rested eyes I mov’d around, and search’dWith fixed ken to know what place it was,Wherein I stood. For certain on the brinkI found me of the lamentable vale,The dread abyss, that joins a thund’rous soundOf plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,And thick with clouds o’erspread, mine eye in vainExplor’d its bottom, nor could aught discern.“Now let us to the blind world there beneathDescend;” the bard began all pale of look:“I go the first, and thou shalt follow next.”Then I his alter’d hue perceiving, thus:“How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?”He then: “The anguish of that race belowWith pity stains my cheek, which thou for fearMistakest. Let us on. Our length of wayUrges to haste.” Onward, this said, he mov’d;And ent’ring led me with him on the boundsOf the first circle, that surrounds th’ abyss.Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heardExcept of sighs, that made th’ eternal airTremble, not caus’d by tortures, but from griefFelt by those multitudes, many and vast,Of men, women, and infants. Then to meThe gentle guide: “Inquir’st thou not what spiritsAre these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou passFarther, I would thou know, that these of sinWere blameless; and if aught they merited,It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,The portal to thy faith. If they beforeThe Gospel liv’d, they serv’d not God aright;And among such am I. For these defects,And for no other evil, we are lost;
“Only so far afflicted, that we liveDesiring without hope.” So grief assail’dMy heart at hearing this, for well I knewSuspended in that Limbo many a soulOf mighty worth. “O tell me, sire rever’d!Tell me, my master!” I began through wishOf full assurance in that holy faith,Which vanquishes all error; “say, did e’erAny, or through his own or other’s merit,Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?”Piercing the secret purport of my speech,He answer’d: “I was new to that estate,When I beheld a puissant one arriveAmongst us, with victorious trophy crown’d.He forth the shade of our first parent drew,Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv’d,Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,Israel with his sire and with his sons,Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,And others many more, whom he to blissExalted. Before these, be thou assur’d,No spirit of human kind was ever sav’d.”We, while he spake, ceas’d not our onward road,Still passing through the wood; for so I nameThose spirits thick beset. We were not farOn this side from the summit, when I kenn’dA flame, that o’er the darken’d hemispherePrevailing shin’d. Yet we a little spaceWere distant, not so far but I in partDiscover’d, that a tribe in honour highThat place possess’d. “O thou, who every artAnd science valu’st! who are these, that boastSuch honour, separate from all the rest?”He answer’d: “The renown of their great namesThat echoes through your world above, acquiresFavour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc’d.”Meantime a voice I heard: “Honour the bardSublime! his shade returns that left us late!”No sooner ceas’d the sound, than I beheldFour mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.When thus my master kind began: “Mark him,Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,The other three preceding, as their lord.This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:Flaccus the next in satire’s vein excelling;The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.Because they all that appellation own,With which the voice singly accosted me,Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge.”
So I beheld united the bright schoolOf him the monarch of sublimest song,That o’er the others like an eagle soars.When they together short discourse had held,They turn’d to me, with salutation kindBeck’ning me; at the which my master smil’d:Nor was this all; but greater honour stillThey gave me, for they made me of their tribe;And I was sixth amid so learn’d a band.Far as the luminous beacon on we pass’dSpeaking of matters, then befitting wellTo speak, now fitter left untold. At footOf a magnificent castle we arriv’d,Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and roundDefended by a pleasant stream. O’er thisAs o’er dry land we pass’d. Next through seven gatesI with those sages enter’d, and we cameInto a mead with lively verdure fresh.There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes aroundMajestically mov’d, and in their portBore eminent authority; they spakeSeldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet.We to one side retir’d, into a placeOpen and bright and lofty, whence each oneStood manifest to view. IncontinentThere on the green enamel of the plainWere shown me the great spirits, by whose sightI am exalted in my own esteem.Electra there I saw accompaniedBy many, among whom Hector I knew,Anchises’ pious son, and with hawk’s eyeCaesar all arm’d, and by Camilla therePenthesilea. On the other sideOld King Latinus, seated by his childLavinia, and that Brutus I beheld,Who Tarquin chas’d, Lucretia, Cato’s wifeMarcia, with Julia and Cornelia there;And sole apart retir’d, the Soldan fierce.Then when a little more I rais’d my brow,I spied the master of the sapient throng,Seated amid the philosophic train.Him all admire, all pay him rev’rence due.There Socrates and Plato both I mark’d,Nearest to him in rank; Democritus,Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes,With Heraclitus, and Empedocles,And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage,Zeno, and Dioscorides well readIn nature’s secret lore. Orpheus I mark’dAnd Linus, Tully and moral Seneca,Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates,Galenus, Avicen, and him who madeThat commentary vast, Averroes.Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimesMy words fall short of what bechanc’d. In twoThe six associates part. Another wayMy sage guide leads me, from that air serene,Into a climate ever vex’d with storms:And to a part I come where no light shines.