CANTO IXNow the fair consort of Tithonus old,Arisen from her mate’s beloved arms,Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff: her brow,Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in signOf that chill animal, who with his trainSmites fearful nations: and where then we were,Two steps of her ascent the night had past,And now the third was closing up its wing,When I, who had so much of Adam with me,Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep,There where all five were seated. In that hour,When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,Rememb’ring haply ancient grief, renews,And with our minds more wand’rers from the flesh,And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, fullOf holy divination in their dreams,Then in a vision did I seem to viewA golden-feather’d eagle in the sky,With open wings, and hov’ring for descent,And I was in that place, methought, from whenceYoung Ganymede, from his associates ’reft,Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory.“Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here aloneHe strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdainsTo pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d,A little wheeling in his airy tourTerrible as the lightning rush’d he down,And snatch’d me upward even to the fire.There both, I thought, the eagle and myselfDid burn; and so intense th’ imagin’d flames,That needs my sleep was broken off. As erstAchilles shook himself, and round him roll’dHis waken’d eyeballs wond’ring where he was,Whenas his mother had from Chiron fledTo Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my faceThe slumber parted, turning deadly pale,Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my sideMy comfort stood: and the bright sun was nowMore than two hours aloft: and to the seaMy looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried,“Assur’d we are at happy point. Thy strengthShrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art comeTo Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliffThat circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there,Where it doth seem disparted! Ere the dawnUsher’d the daylight, when thy wearied soulSlept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneathA lady came, and thus bespake me: IAm Lucia. Suffer me to take this man,Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.”Sordello and the other gentle shapesTarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps.Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyesThat open entrance show’d me; then at onceShe vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubtsAre chas’d by certainty, and terror turn’dTo comfort on discovery of the truth,Such was the change in me: and as my guideBeheld me fearless, up along the cliffHe mov’d, and I behind him, towards the height.Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,Nor wonder therefore, if more artfullyI prop the structure! Nearer now we drew,Arriv’d’ whence in that part, where first a breachAs of a wall appear’d, I could descryA portal, and three steps beneath, that ledFor inlet there, of different colour each,And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word.As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,I mark’d him seated on the highest step,In visage such, as past my power to bear.Grasp’d in his hand a naked sword, glanc’d backThe rays so toward me, that I oft in vainMy sight directed. “Speak from whence ye stand:”He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort?Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.”“A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,”Replied the’ instructor, “told us, even now,‘Pass that way: here the gate is.”—“And may sheBefriending prosper your ascent,” resum’dThe courteous keeper of the gate: “Come thenBefore our steps.” We straightway thither came.The lowest stair was marble white so smoothAnd polish’d, that therein my mirror’d formDistinct I saw. The next of hue more darkThan sablest grain, a rough and singed block,Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that layMassy above, seem’d porphyry, that flam’dRed as the life-blood spouting from a vein.On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,Upon the threshold seated, which appear’dA rock of diamond. Up the trinal stepsMy leader cheerily drew me. “Ask,” said he,“With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.”Piously at his holy feet devolv’dI cast me, praying him for pity’s sakeThat he would open to me: but first fellThrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven timesThe letter, that denotes the inward stain,He on my forehead with the blunted pointOf his drawn sword inscrib’d. And “Look,” he cried,“When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.”Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground,Were of one colour with the robe he wore.From underneath that vestment forth he drewTwo keys of metal twain: the one was gold,Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,And next the burnish’d, he so ply’d the gate,As to content me well. “Whenever oneFaileth of these, that in the keyhole straightIt turn not, to this alley then expectAccess in vain.” Such were the words he spake.“One is more precious: but the other needsSkill and sagacity, large share of each,Ere its good task to disengage the knotBe worthily perform’d. From Peter theseI hold, of him instructed, that I errRather in opening than in keeping fast;So but the suppliant at my feet implore.”Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door,Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear:He forth again departs who looks behind.”As in the hinges of that sacred wardThe swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong,Harsh was the grating; nor so surlilyRoar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereftOf good Metellus, thenceforth from his lossTo leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d,List’ning the thunder, that first issued forth;And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heardIn accents blended with sweet melody.The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the soundOf choral voices, that in solemn chantWith organ mingle, and, now high and clear,Come swelling, now float indistinct away.
CANTO IXNow the fair consort of Tithonus old,Arisen from her mate’s beloved arms,Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff: her brow,Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in signOf that chill animal, who with his trainSmites fearful nations: and where then we were,Two steps of her ascent the night had past,And now the third was closing up its wing,When I, who had so much of Adam with me,Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep,There where all five were seated. In that hour,When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,Rememb’ring haply ancient grief, renews,And with our minds more wand’rers from the flesh,And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, fullOf holy divination in their dreams,Then in a vision did I seem to viewA golden-feather’d eagle in the sky,With open wings, and hov’ring for descent,And I was in that place, methought, from whenceYoung Ganymede, from his associates ’reft,Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory.“Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here aloneHe strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdainsTo pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d,A little wheeling in his airy tourTerrible as the lightning rush’d he down,And snatch’d me upward even to the fire.There both, I thought, the eagle and myselfDid burn; and so intense th’ imagin’d flames,That needs my sleep was broken off. As erstAchilles shook himself, and round him roll’dHis waken’d eyeballs wond’ring where he was,Whenas his mother had from Chiron fledTo Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my faceThe slumber parted, turning deadly pale,Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my sideMy comfort stood: and the bright sun was nowMore than two hours aloft: and to the seaMy looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried,“Assur’d we are at happy point. Thy strengthShrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art comeTo Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliffThat circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there,Where it doth seem disparted! Ere the dawnUsher’d the daylight, when thy wearied soulSlept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneathA lady came, and thus bespake me: IAm Lucia. Suffer me to take this man,Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.”Sordello and the other gentle shapesTarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps.Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyesThat open entrance show’d me; then at onceShe vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubtsAre chas’d by certainty, and terror turn’dTo comfort on discovery of the truth,Such was the change in me: and as my guideBeheld me fearless, up along the cliffHe mov’d, and I behind him, towards the height.Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,Nor wonder therefore, if more artfullyI prop the structure! Nearer now we drew,Arriv’d’ whence in that part, where first a breachAs of a wall appear’d, I could descryA portal, and three steps beneath, that ledFor inlet there, of different colour each,And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word.As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,I mark’d him seated on the highest step,In visage such, as past my power to bear.Grasp’d in his hand a naked sword, glanc’d backThe rays so toward me, that I oft in vainMy sight directed. “Speak from whence ye stand:”He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort?Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.”“A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,”Replied the’ instructor, “told us, even now,‘Pass that way: here the gate is.”—“And may sheBefriending prosper your ascent,” resum’dThe courteous keeper of the gate: “Come thenBefore our steps.” We straightway thither came.The lowest stair was marble white so smoothAnd polish’d, that therein my mirror’d formDistinct I saw. The next of hue more darkThan sablest grain, a rough and singed block,Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that layMassy above, seem’d porphyry, that flam’dRed as the life-blood spouting from a vein.On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,Upon the threshold seated, which appear’dA rock of diamond. Up the trinal stepsMy leader cheerily drew me. “Ask,” said he,“With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.”Piously at his holy feet devolv’dI cast me, praying him for pity’s sakeThat he would open to me: but first fellThrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven timesThe letter, that denotes the inward stain,He on my forehead with the blunted pointOf his drawn sword inscrib’d. And “Look,” he cried,“When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.”Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground,Were of one colour with the robe he wore.From underneath that vestment forth he drewTwo keys of metal twain: the one was gold,Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,And next the burnish’d, he so ply’d the gate,As to content me well. “Whenever oneFaileth of these, that in the keyhole straightIt turn not, to this alley then expectAccess in vain.” Such were the words he spake.“One is more precious: but the other needsSkill and sagacity, large share of each,Ere its good task to disengage the knotBe worthily perform’d. From Peter theseI hold, of him instructed, that I errRather in opening than in keeping fast;So but the suppliant at my feet implore.”Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door,Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear:He forth again departs who looks behind.”As in the hinges of that sacred wardThe swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong,Harsh was the grating; nor so surlilyRoar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereftOf good Metellus, thenceforth from his lossTo leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d,List’ning the thunder, that first issued forth;And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heardIn accents blended with sweet melody.The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the soundOf choral voices, that in solemn chantWith organ mingle, and, now high and clear,Come swelling, now float indistinct away.
Now the fair consort of Tithonus old,Arisen from her mate’s beloved arms,Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff: her brow,Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in signOf that chill animal, who with his trainSmites fearful nations: and where then we were,Two steps of her ascent the night had past,And now the third was closing up its wing,When I, who had so much of Adam with me,Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep,There where all five were seated. In that hour,When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,Rememb’ring haply ancient grief, renews,And with our minds more wand’rers from the flesh,And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, fullOf holy divination in their dreams,Then in a vision did I seem to viewA golden-feather’d eagle in the sky,With open wings, and hov’ring for descent,And I was in that place, methought, from whenceYoung Ganymede, from his associates ’reft,Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory.“Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here aloneHe strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdainsTo pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d,A little wheeling in his airy tourTerrible as the lightning rush’d he down,And snatch’d me upward even to the fire.
There both, I thought, the eagle and myselfDid burn; and so intense th’ imagin’d flames,That needs my sleep was broken off. As erstAchilles shook himself, and round him roll’dHis waken’d eyeballs wond’ring where he was,Whenas his mother had from Chiron fledTo Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my faceThe slumber parted, turning deadly pale,Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my sideMy comfort stood: and the bright sun was nowMore than two hours aloft: and to the seaMy looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried,“Assur’d we are at happy point. Thy strengthShrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art comeTo Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliffThat circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there,Where it doth seem disparted! Ere the dawnUsher’d the daylight, when thy wearied soulSlept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneathA lady came, and thus bespake me: IAm Lucia. Suffer me to take this man,Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.”Sordello and the other gentle shapesTarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps.Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyesThat open entrance show’d me; then at onceShe vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubtsAre chas’d by certainty, and terror turn’dTo comfort on discovery of the truth,Such was the change in me: and as my guideBeheld me fearless, up along the cliffHe mov’d, and I behind him, towards the height.Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,Nor wonder therefore, if more artfullyI prop the structure! Nearer now we drew,Arriv’d’ whence in that part, where first a breachAs of a wall appear’d, I could descryA portal, and three steps beneath, that ledFor inlet there, of different colour each,And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word.As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,I mark’d him seated on the highest step,In visage such, as past my power to bear.
Grasp’d in his hand a naked sword, glanc’d backThe rays so toward me, that I oft in vainMy sight directed. “Speak from whence ye stand:”He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort?Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.”“A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,”Replied the’ instructor, “told us, even now,‘Pass that way: here the gate is.”—“And may sheBefriending prosper your ascent,” resum’dThe courteous keeper of the gate: “Come thenBefore our steps.” We straightway thither came.The lowest stair was marble white so smoothAnd polish’d, that therein my mirror’d formDistinct I saw. The next of hue more darkThan sablest grain, a rough and singed block,Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that layMassy above, seem’d porphyry, that flam’dRed as the life-blood spouting from a vein.On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,Upon the threshold seated, which appear’dA rock of diamond. Up the trinal stepsMy leader cheerily drew me. “Ask,” said he,“With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.”Piously at his holy feet devolv’dI cast me, praying him for pity’s sakeThat he would open to me: but first fellThrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven timesThe letter, that denotes the inward stain,He on my forehead with the blunted pointOf his drawn sword inscrib’d. And “Look,” he cried,“When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.”Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground,Were of one colour with the robe he wore.From underneath that vestment forth he drewTwo keys of metal twain: the one was gold,Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,And next the burnish’d, he so ply’d the gate,As to content me well. “Whenever oneFaileth of these, that in the keyhole straightIt turn not, to this alley then expectAccess in vain.” Such were the words he spake.“One is more precious: but the other needsSkill and sagacity, large share of each,Ere its good task to disengage the knotBe worthily perform’d. From Peter theseI hold, of him instructed, that I errRather in opening than in keeping fast;So but the suppliant at my feet implore.”Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door,Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear:He forth again departs who looks behind.”As in the hinges of that sacred wardThe swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong,Harsh was the grating; nor so surlilyRoar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereftOf good Metellus, thenceforth from his lossTo leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d,List’ning the thunder, that first issued forth;And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heardIn accents blended with sweet melody.The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the soundOf choral voices, that in solemn chantWith organ mingle, and, now high and clear,Come swelling, now float indistinct away.