Canto XXIII…

Canto XXIII

On the green leaf mine eyes were fix’d, like his Who throws away his days in idle chase Of the diminutive, when thus I heard The more than father warn me: “Son! our time Asks thriftier using. Linger not: away.”

Thereat my face and steps at once I turn’d Toward the sages, by whose converse cheer’d I journey’d on, and felt no toil: and lo! A sound of weeping and a song: “My lips, O Lord!” and these so mingled, it gave birth To pleasure and to pain. “O Sire, belov’d! Say what is this I hear?” Thus I inquir’d.

“Spirits,” said he, “who as they go, perchance, Their debt of duty pay.” As on their road The thoughtful pilgrims, overtaking some Not known unto them, turn to them, and look, But stay not; thus, approaching from behind With speedier motion, eyed us, as they pass’d, A crowd of spirits, silent and devout. The eyes of each were dark and hollow: pale Their visage, and so lean withal, the bones Stood staring thro’ the skin. I do not think Thus dry and meagre Erisicthon show’d, When pinc’ed by sharp-set famine to the quick.

“Lo!” to myself I mus’d, “the race, who lost Jerusalem, when Mary with dire beak Prey’d on her child.” The sockets seem’d as rings, From which the gems were drops. Who reads the name Of man upon his forehead, there the M Had trac’d most plainly. Who would deem, that scent Of water and an apple, could have prov’d Powerful to generate such pining want, Not knowing how it wrought? While now I stood Wond’ring what thus could waste them (for the cause Of their gaunt hollowness and scaly rind Appear’d not) lo! a spirit turn’d his eyes In their deep-sunken cell, and fasten’d then On me, then cried with vehemence aloud: “What grace is this vouchsaf’d me?” By his looks I ne’er had recogniz’d him: but the voice Brought to my knowledge what his cheer conceal’d. Remembrance of his alter’d lineaments Was kindled from that spark; and I agniz’d The visage of Forese. “Ah! respect This wan and leprous wither’d skin,” thus he Suppliant implor’d, “this macerated flesh. Speak to me truly of thyself. And who Are those twain spirits, that escort thee there? Be it not said thou Scorn’st to talk with me.”

“That face of thine,” I answer’d him, “which dead I once bewail’d, disposes me not less For weeping, when I see It thus transform’d. Say then, by Heav’n, what blasts ye thus? The whilst I wonder, ask not Speech from me: unapt Is he to speak, whom other will employs.

He thus: “The water and tee plant we pass’d, Virtue possesses, by th’ eternal will Infus’d, the which so pines me. Every spirit, Whose song bewails his gluttony indulg’d Too grossly, here in hunger and in thirst Is purified. The odour, which the fruit, And spray, that showers upon the verdure, breathe, Inflames us with desire to feed and drink. Nor once alone encompassing our route We come to add fresh fuel to the pain: Pain, said I? solace rather: for that will To the tree leads us, by which Christ was led To call Elias, joyful when he paid Our ransom from his vein.” I answering thus: “Forese! from that day, in which the world For better life thou changedst, not five years Have circled. If the power of sinning more Were first concluded in thee, ere thou knew’st That kindly grief, which re-espouses us To God, how hither art thou come so soon? I thought to find thee lower, there, where time Is recompense for time.” He straight replied: “To drink up the sweet wormwood of affliction I have been brought thus early by the tears Stream’d down my Nella’s cheeks. Her prayers devout, Her sighs have drawn me from the coast, where oft Expectance lingers, and have set me free From th’ other circles. In the sight of God So much the dearer is my widow priz’d, She whom I lov’d so fondly, as she ranks More singly eminent for virtuous deeds. The tract most barb’rous of Sardinia’s isle, Hath dames more chaste and modester by far Than that wherein I left her. O sweet brother! What wouldst thou have me say? A time to come Stands full within my view, to which this hour Shall not be counted of an ancient date, When from the pulpit shall be loudly warn’d Th’ unblushing dames of Florence, lest they bare Unkerchief’d bosoms to the common gaze. What savage women hath the world e’er seen, What Saracens, for whom there needed scourge Of spiritual or other discipline, To force them walk with cov’ring on their limbs! But did they see, the shameless ones, that Heav’n Wafts on swift wing toward them, while I speak, Their mouths were op’d for howling: they shall taste Of Borrow (unless foresight cheat me here) Or ere the cheek of him be cloth’d with down Who is now rock’d with lullaby asleep. Ah! now, my brother, hide thyself no more, Thou seest how not I alone but all Gaze, where thou veil’st the intercepted sun.”

Whence I replied: “If thou recall to mind What we were once together, even yet Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore. That I forsook that life, was due to him Who there precedes me, some few evenings past, When she was round, who shines with sister lamp To his, that glisters yonder,” and I show’d The sun. “Tis he, who through profoundest night Of he true dead has brought me, with this flesh As true, that follows. From that gloom the aid Of his sure comfort drew me on to climb, And climbing wind along this mountain-steep, Which rectifies in you whate’er the world Made crooked and deprav’d I have his word, That he will bear me company as far As till I come where Beatrice dwells: But there must leave me. Virgil is that spirit, Who thus hath promis’d,” and I pointed to him; “The other is that shade, for whom so late Your realm, as he arose, exulting shook Through every pendent cliff and rocky bound.”

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Canto XXIV

Our journey was not slacken’d by our talk, Nor yet our talk by journeying. Still we spake, And urg’d our travel stoutly, like a ship When the wind sits astern. The shadowy forms, That seem’d things dead and dead again, drew in At their deep-delved orbs rare wonder of me, Perceiving I had life; and I my words Continued, and thus spake; “He journeys up Perhaps more tardily then else he would, For others’ sake. But tell me, if thou know’st, Where is Piccarda? Tell me, if I see Any of mark, among this multitude, Who eye me thus.”—“My sister (she for whom, ’Twixt beautiful and good I cannot say Which name was fitter) wears e’en now her crown, And triumphs in Olympus.” Saying this, He added: “Since spare diet hath so worn Our semblance out, ’tis lawful here to name Each one . This,” and his finger then he rais’d, “Is Buonaggiuna,—Buonaggiuna, he Of Lucca: and that face beyond him, pierc’d Unto a leaner fineness than the rest, Had keeping of the church: he was of Tours, And purges by wan abstinence away Bolsena’s eels and cups of muscadel.”

He show’d me many others, one by one, And all, as they were nam’d, seem’d well content; For no dark gesture I discern’d in any. I saw through hunger Ubaldino grind His teeth on emptiness; and Boniface, That wav’d the crozier o’er a num’rous flock. I saw the Marquis, who tad time erewhile To swill at Forli with less drought, yet so Was one ne’er sated. I howe’er, like him, That gazing ’midst a crowd, singles out one, So singled him of Lucca; for methought Was none amongst them took such note of me. Somewhat I heard him whisper of Gentucca: The sound was indistinct, and murmur’d there, Where justice, that so strips them, fix’d her sting.

“Spirit!” said I, “it seems as thou wouldst fain Speak with me. Let me hear thee. Mutual wish To converse prompts, which let us both indulge.”

He, answ’ring, straight began: “Woman is born, Whose brow no wimple shades yet, that shall make My city please thee, blame it as they may. Go then with this forewarning. If aught false My whisper too implied, th’ event shall tell But say, if of a truth I see the man Of that new lay th’ inventor, which begins With ‘Ladies, ye that con the lore of love’.”

To whom I thus: “Count of me but as one Who am the scribe of love; that, when he breathes, Take up my pen, and, as he dictates, write.”

“Brother!” said he, “the hind’rance which once held The notary with Guittone and myself, Short of that new and sweeter style I hear, Is now disclos’d. I see how ye your plumes Stretch, as th’ inditer guides them; which, no question, Ours did not. He that seeks a grace beyond, Sees not the distance parts one style from other.” And, as contented, here he held his peace.

Like as the bird, that winter near the Nile, In squared regiment direct their course, Then stretch themselves in file for speedier flight; Thus all the tribe of spirits, as they turn’d Their visage, faster deaf, nimble alike Through leanness and desire. And as a man, Tir’d With the motion of a trotting steed, Slacks pace, and stays behind his company, Till his o’erbreathed lungs keep temperate time; E’en so Forese let that holy crew Proceed, behind them lingering at my side, And saying: “When shall I again behold thee?”

“How long my life may last,” said I, “I know not; This know, how soon soever I return, My wishes will before me have arriv’d. Sithence the place, where I am set to live, Is, day by day, more scoop’d of all its good, And dismal ruin seems to threaten it.”

“Go now,” he cried: “lo! he, whose guilt is most, Passes before my vision, dragg’d at heels Of an infuriate beast. Toward the vale, Where guilt hath no redemption, on it speeds, Each step increasing swiftness on the last; Until a blow it strikes, that leaveth him A corse most vilely shatter’d. No long space Those wheels have yet to roll” (therewith his eyes Look’d up to heav’n) “ere thou shalt plainly see That which my words may not more plainly tell. I quit thee: time is precious here: I lose Too much, thus measuring my pace with shine.”

As from a troop of well-rank’d chivalry One knight, more enterprising than the rest, Pricks forth at gallop, eager to display His prowess in the first encounter prov’d So parted he from us with lengthen’d strides, And left me on the way with those twain spirits, Who were such mighty marshals of the world.

When he beyond us had so fled mine eyes No nearer reach’d him, than my thought his words, The branches of another fruit, thick hung, And blooming fresh, appear’d. E’en as our steps Turn’d thither, not far off it rose to view. Beneath it were a multitude, that rais’d Their hands, and shouted forth I know not What Unto the boughs; like greedy and fond brats, That beg, and answer none obtain from him, Of whom they beg; but more to draw them on, He at arm’s length the object of their wish Above them holds aloft, and hides it not.

At length, as undeceiv’d they went their way: And we approach the tree, who vows and tears Sue to in vain, the mighty tree. “Pass on, And come not near. Stands higher up the wood, Whereof Eve tasted, and from it was ta’en ‘this plant.” Such sounds from midst the thickets came. Whence I, with either bard, close to the side That rose, pass’d forth beyond. “Remember,” next We heard, “those noblest creatures of the clouds, How they their twofold bosoms overgorg’d Oppos’d in fight to Theseus: call to mind The Hebrews, how effeminate they stoop’d To ease their thirst; whence Gideon’s ranks were thinn’d, As he to Midian march’d adown the hills.”

Thus near one border coasting, still we heard The sins of gluttony, with woe erewhile Reguerdon’d. Then along the lonely path, Once more at large, full thousand paces on We travel’d, each contemplative and mute.

“Why pensive journey thus ye three alone?” Thus suddenly a voice exclaim’d: whereat I shook, as doth a scar’d and paltry beast; Then rais’d my head to look from whence it came.

Was ne’er, in furnace, glass, or metal seen So bright and glowing red, as was the shape I now beheld. “If ye desire to mount,” He cried, “here must ye turn. This way he goes, Who goes in quest of peace.” His countenance Had dazzled me; and to my guides I fac’d Backward, like one who walks, as sound directs.

As when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up On freshen’d wing the air of May, and breathes Of fragrance, all impregn’d with herb and flowers, E’en such a wind I felt upon my front Blow gently, and the moving of a wing Perceiv’d, that moving shed ambrosial smell; And then a voice: “Blessed are they, whom grace Doth so illume, that appetite in them Exhaleth no inordinate desire, Still hung’ring as the rule of temperance wills.”

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Canto XXV

It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need To walk uncrippled: for the sun had now To Taurus the meridian circle left, And to the Scorpion left the night. As one That makes no pause, but presses on his road, Whate’er betide him, if some urgent need Impel: so enter’d we upon our way, One before other; for, but singly, none That steep and narrow scale admits to climb.

E’en as the young stork lifteth up his wing Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit The nest, and drops it; so in me desire Of questioning my guide arose, and fell, Arriving even to the act, that marks A man prepar’d for speech. Him all our haste Restrain’d not, but thus spake the sire belov’d: Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip Stands trembling for its flight.” Encourag’d thus I straight began: “How there can leanness come, Where is no want of nourishment to feed?”

“If thou,” he answer’d, “hadst remember’d thee, How Meleager with the wasting brand Wasted alike, by equal fires consm’d, This would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought, How in the mirror your reflected form With mimic motion vibrates, what now seems Hard, had appear’d no harder than the pulp Of summer fruit mature. But that thy will In certainty may find its full repose, Lo Statius here! on him I call, and pray That he would now be healer of thy wound.”

“If in thy presence I unfold to him The secrets of heaven’s vengeance, let me plead Thine own injunction, to exculpate me.” So Statius answer’d, and forthwith began: “Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind Receive them: so shall they be light to clear The doubt thou offer’st. Blood, concocted well, Which by the thirsty veins is ne’er imbib’d, And rests as food superfluous, to be ta’en From the replenish’d table, in the heart Derives effectual virtue, that informs The several human limbs, as being that, Which passes through the veins itself to make them. Yet more concocted it descends, where shame Forbids to mention: and from thence distils In natural vessel on another’s blood. Then each unite together, one dispos’d T’ endure, to act the other, through meet frame Of its recipient mould: that being reach’d, It ’gins to work, coagulating first; Then vivifies what its own substance caus’d To bear. With animation now indued, The active virtue (differing from a plant No further, than that this is on the way And at its limit that) continues yet To operate, that now it moves, and feels, As sea sponge clinging to the rock: and there Assumes th’ organic powers its seed convey’d. ‘This is the period, son! at which the virtue, That from the generating heart proceeds, Is pliant and expansive; for each limb Is in the heart by forgeful nature plann’d. How babe of animal becomes, remains For thy consid’ring. At this point, more wise, Than thou hast err’d, making the soul disjoin’d From passive intellect, because he saw No organ for the latter’s use assign’d.

“Open thy bosom to the truth that comes. Know soon as in the embryo, to the brain, Articulation is complete, then turns The primal Mover with a smile of joy On such great work of nature, and imbreathes New spirit replete with virtue, that what here Active it finds, to its own substance draws, And forms an individual soul, that lives, And feels, and bends reflective on itself. And that thou less mayst marvel at the word, Mark the sun’s heat, how that to wine doth change, Mix’d with the moisture filter’d through the vine.

“When Lachesis hath spun the thread, the soul Takes with her both the human and divine, Memory, intelligence, and will, in act Far keener than before, the other powers Inactive all and mute. No pause allow’d, In wond’rous sort self-moving, to one strand Of those, where the departed roam, she falls, Here learns her destin’d path. Soon as the place Receives her, round the plastic virtue beams, Distinct as in the living limbs before: And as the air, when saturate with showers, The casual beam refracting, decks itself With many a hue; so here the ambient air Weareth that form, which influence of the soul Imprints on it; and like the flame, that where The fire moves, thither follows, so henceforth The new form on the spirit follows still: Hence hath it semblance, and is shadow call’d, With each sense even to the sight endued: Hence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs Which thou mayst oft have witness’d on the mount Th’ obedient shadow fails not to present Whatever varying passion moves within us. And this the cause of what thou marvel’st at.”

Now the last flexure of our way we reach’d, And to the right hand turning, other care Awaits us. Here the rocky precipice Hurls forth redundant flames, and from the rim A blast upblown, with forcible rebuff Driveth them back, sequester’d from its bound.

Behoov’d us, one by one, along the side, That border’d on the void, to pass; and I Fear’d on one hand the fire, on th’ other fear’d Headlong to fall: when thus th’ instructor warn’d: “Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes. A little swerving and the way is lost.”

Then from the bosom of the burning mass, “O God of mercy!” heard I sung; and felt No less desire to turn. And when I saw Spirits along the flame proceeding, I Between their footsteps and mine own was fain To share by turns my view. At the hymn’s close They shouted loud, “I do not know a man;” Then in low voice again took up the strain, Which once more ended, “To the wood,” they cried, “Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto, stung With Cytherea’s poison:” then return’d Unto their song; then marry a pair extoll’d, Who liv’d in virtue chastely, and the bands Of wedded love. Nor from that task, I ween, Surcease they; whilesoe’er the scorching fire Enclasps them. Of such skill appliance needs To medicine the wound, that healeth last.

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Canto XXVI

While singly thus along the rim we walk’d, Oft the good master warn’d me: “Look thou well. Avail it that I caution thee.” The sun Now all the western clime irradiate chang’d From azure tinct to white; and, as I pass’d, My passing shadow made the umber’d flame Burn ruddier. At so strange a sight I mark’d That many a spirit marvel’d on his way.

This bred occasion first to speak of me, “He seems,” said they, “no insubstantial frame:” Then to obtain what certainty they might, Stretch’d towards me, careful not to overpass The burning pale. “O thou, who followest The others, haply not more slow than they, But mov’d by rev’rence, answer me, who burn In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth Indian or Aethiop for the cooling stream. Tell us, how is it that thou mak’st thyself A wall against the sun, as thou not yet Into th’ inextricable toils of death Hadst enter’d?” Thus spake one, and I had straight Declar’d me, if attention had not turn’d To new appearance. Meeting these, there came, Midway the burning path, a crowd, on whom Earnestly gazing, from each part I view The shadows all press forward, sev’rally Each snatch a hasty kiss, and then away. E’en so the emmets, ’mid their dusky troops, Peer closely one at other, to spy out Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.

That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch Of the first onward step, from either tribe Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come, Shout Sodom and Gomorrah!” these, “The cow Pasiphae enter’d, that the beast she woo’d Might rush unto her luxury.” Then as cranes, That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly, Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off One crowd, advances th’ other; and resume Their first song weeping, and their several shout.

Again drew near my side the very same, Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks Mark’d eagerness to listen. I, who twice Their will had noted, spake: “O spirits secure, Whene’er the time may be, of peaceful end! My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age, Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed With blood, and sinew-strung. That I no more May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft. There is a dame on high, who wind for us This grace, by which my mortal through your realm I bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven, Fullest of love, and of most ample space, Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are, And what this multitude, that at your backs Have past behind us.” As one, mountain-bred, Rugged and clownish, if some city’s walls He chance to enter, round him stares agape, Confounded and struck dumb; e’en such appear’d Each spirit. But when rid of that amaze, (Not long the inmate of a noble heart) He, who before had question’d, thus resum’d: “O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak’st Experience of our limits, in thy bark! Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that, For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard The snout of ‘queen,’ to taunt him. Hence their cry Of ‘Sodom,’ as they parted, to rebuke Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame. Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we, Because the law of human kind we broke, Following like beasts our vile concupiscence, Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace Record the name of her, by whom the beast In bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds Thou know’st, and how we sinn’d. If thou by name Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now To tell so much, nor can I. Of myself Learn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I, Who having truly sorrow’d ere my last, Already cleanse me.” With such pious joy, As the two sons upon their mother gaz’d From sad Lycurgus rescu’d, such my joy (Save that I more represt it) when I heard From his own lips the name of him pronounc’d, Who was a father to me, and to those My betters, who have ever us’d the sweet And pleasant rhymes of love. So nought I heard Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went, Gazing on him; and, only for the fire, Approach’d not nearer. When my eyes were fed By looking on him, with such solemn pledge, As forces credence, I devoted me Unto his service wholly. In reply He thus bespake me: “What from thee I hear Is grav’d so deeply on my mind, the waves Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make A whit less lively. But as now thy oath Has seal’d the truth, declare what cause impels That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray.”

“Those dulcet lays,” I answer’d, “which, as long As of our tongue the beauty does not fade, Shall make us love the very ink that trac’d them.”

“Brother!” he cried, and pointed at a shade Before him, “there is one, whose mother speech Doth owe to him a fairer ornament. He in love ditties and the tales of prose Without a rival stands, and lets the fools Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges O’ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice They look to more than truth, and so confirm Opinion, ere by art or reason taught. Thus many of the elder time cried up Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth By strength of numbers vanquish’d. If thou own So ample privilege, as to have gain’d Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ Is Abbot of the college, say to him One paternoster for me, far as needs For dwellers in this world, where power to sin No longer tempts us.” Haply to make way For one, that follow’d next, when that was said, He vanish’d through the fire, as through the wave A fish, that glances diving to the deep.

I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew A little onward, and besought his name, For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room. He frankly thus began: “Thy courtesy So wins on me, I have nor power nor will To hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs, Sorely lamenting for my folly past, Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see The day, I hope for, smiling in my view. I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up Unto the summit of the scale, in time Remember ye my suff’rings.” With such words He disappear’d in the refining flame.

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Canto XXVII

Now was the sun so station’d, as when first His early radiance quivers on the heights, Where stream’d his Maker’s blood, while Libra hangs Above Hesperian Ebro, and new fires Meridian flash on Ganges’ yellow tide.

So day was sinking, when the’ angel of God Appear’d before us. Joy was in his mien. Forth of the flame he stood upon the brink, And with a voice, whose lively clearness far Surpass’d our human, “Blessed are the pure In heart,” he Sang: then near him as we came, “Go ye not further, holy spirits!” he cried, “Ere the fire pierce you: enter in; and list Attentive to the song ye hear from thence.”

I, when I heard his saying, was as one Laid in the grave. My hands together clasp’d, And upward stretching, on the fire I look’d, And busy fancy conjur’d up the forms Erewhile beheld alive consum’d in flames.

Th’ escorting spirits turn’d with gentle looks Toward me, and the Mantuan spake: “My son, Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death. Remember thee, remember thee, if I Safe e’en on Geryon brought thee: now I come More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now? Of this be sure: though in its womb that flame A thousand years contain’d thee, from thy head No hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth, Approach, and with thy hands thy vesture’s hem Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief. Lay now all fear, O lay all fear aside. Turn hither, and come onward undismay’d.” I still, though conscience urg’d’ no step advanc’d.

When still he saw me fix’d and obstinate, Somewhat disturb’d he cried: “Mark now, my son, From Beatrice thou art by this wall Divided.” As at Thisbe’s name the eye Of Pyramus was open’d (when life ebb’d Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance, While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turn’d To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard The name, that springs forever in my breast.

He shook his forehead; and, “How long,” he said, “Linger we now?” then smil’d, as one would smile Upon a child, that eyes the fruit and yields. Into the fire before me then he walk’d; And Statius, who erewhile no little space Had parted us, he pray’d to come behind.

I would have cast me into molten glass To cool me, when I enter’d; so intense Rag’d the conflagrant mass. The sire belov’d, To comfort me, as he proceeded, still Of Beatrice talk’d. “Her eyes,” saith he, “E’en now I seem to view.” From the other side A voice, that sang, did guide us, and the voice Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth, There where the path led upward. “Come,” we heard, “Come, blessed of my Father.” Such the sounds, That hail’d us from within a light, which shone So radiant, I could not endure the view. “The sun,” it added, “hastes: and evening comes. Delay not: ere the western sky is hung With blackness, strive ye for the pass.” Our way Upright within the rock arose, and fac’d Such part of heav’n, that from before my steps The beams were shrouded of the sinking sun.

Nor many stairs were overpass, when now By fading of the shadow we perceiv’d The sun behind us couch’d: and ere one face Of darkness o’er its measureless expanse Involv’d th’ horizon, and the night her lot Held individual, each of us had made A stair his pallet: not that will, but power, Had fail’d us, by the nature of that mount Forbidden further travel. As the goats, That late have skipp’d and wanton’d rapidly Upon the craggy cliffs, ere they had ta’en Their supper on the herb, now silent lie And ruminate beneath the umbrage brown, While noonday rages; and the goatherd leans Upon his staff, and leaning watches them: And as the swain, that lodges out all night In quiet by his flock, lest beast of prey Disperse them; even so all three abode, I as a goat and as the shepherds they, Close pent on either side by shelving rock.

A little glimpse of sky was seen above; Yet by that little I beheld the stars In magnitude and rustle shining forth With more than wonted glory. As I lay, Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing, Sleep overcame me, sleep, that bringeth oft Tidings of future hap. About the hour, As I believe, when Venus from the east First lighten’d on the mountain, she whose orb Seems always glowing with the fire of love, A lady young and beautiful, I dream’d, Was passing o’er a lea; and, as she came, Methought I saw her ever and anon Bending to cull the flowers; and thus she sang: “Know ye, whoever of my name would ask, That I am Leah: for my brow to weave A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply. To please me at the crystal mirror, here I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she Before her glass abides the livelong day, Her radiant eyes beholding, charm’d no less, Than I with this delightful task. Her joy In contemplation, as in labour mine.”

And now as glimm’ring dawn appear’d, that breaks More welcome to the pilgrim still, as he Sojourns less distant on his homeward way, Darkness from all sides fled, and with it fled My slumber; whence I rose and saw my guide Already risen. “That delicious fruit, Which through so many a branch the zealous care Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day Appease thy hunger.” Such the words I heard From Virgil’s lip; and never greeting heard So pleasant as the sounds. Within me straight Desire so grew upon desire to mount, Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings Increasing for my flight. When we had run O’er all the ladder to its topmost round, As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix’d His eyes, and thus he spake: “Both fires, my son, The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen, And art arriv’d, where of itself my ken No further reaches. I with skill and art Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take For guide. Thou hast o’ercome the steeper way, O’ercome the straighter. Lo! the sun, that darts His beam upon thy forehead! lo! the herb, The arboreta and flowers, which of itself This land pours forth profuse! Till those bright eyes With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down, Or wander where thou wilt. Expect no more Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, Free of thy own arbitrement to choose, Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense Were henceforth error. I invest thee then With crown and mitre, sovereign o’er thyself.”

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Canto XXVIII

Through that celestial forest, whose thick shade With lively greenness the new-springing day Attemper’d, eager now to roam, and search Its limits round, forthwith I left the bank, Along the champain leisurely my way Pursuing, o’er the ground, that on all sides Delicious odour breath’d. A pleasant air, That intermitted never, never veer’d, Smote on my temples, gently, as a wind Of softest influence: at which the sprays, Obedient all, lean’d trembling to that part Where first the holy mountain casts his shade, Yet were not so disorder’d, but that still Upon their top the feather’d quiristers Applied their wonted art, and with full joy Welcom’d those hours of prime, and warbled shrill Amid the leaves, that to their jocund lays inept tenor; even as from branch to branch, Along the piney forests on the shore Of Chiassi, rolls the gath’ring melody, When Eolus hath from his cavern loos’d The dripping south. Already had my steps, Though slow, so far into that ancient wood Transported me, I could not ken the place Where I had enter’d, when behold! my path Was bounded by a rill, which to the left With little rippling waters bent the grass, That issued from its brink. On earth no wave How clean soe’er, that would not seem to have Some mixture in itself, compar’d with this, Transpicuous, clear; yet darkly on it roll’d, Darkly beneath perpetual gloom, which ne’er Admits or sun or moon light there to shine.

My feet advanc’d not; but my wond’ring eyes Pass’d onward, o’er the streamlet, to survey The tender May-bloom, flush’d through many a hue, In prodigal variety: and there, As object, rising suddenly to view, That from our bosom every thought beside With the rare marvel chases, I beheld A lady all alone, who, singing, went, And culling flower from flower, wherewith her way Was all o’er painted. “Lady beautiful! Thou, who (if looks, that use to speak the heart, Are worthy of our trust), with love’s own beam Dost warm thee,” thus to her my speech I fram’d: “Ah! please thee hither towards the streamlet bend Thy steps so near, that I may list thy song. Beholding thee and this fair place, methinks, I call to mind where wander’d and how look’d Proserpine, in that season, when her child The mother lost, and she the bloomy spring.”

As when a lady, turning in the dance, Doth foot it featly, and advances scarce One step before the other to the ground; Over the yellow and vermilion flowers Thus turn’d she at my suit, most maiden-like, Valing her sober eyes, and came so near, That I distinctly caught the dulcet sound. Arriving where the limped waters now Lav’d the green sward, her eyes she deign’d to raise, That shot such splendour on me, as I ween Ne’er glanced from Cytherea’s, when her son Had sped his keenest weapon to her heart. Upon the opposite bank she stood and smil’d through her graceful fingers shifted still The intermingling dyes, which without seed That lofty land unbosoms. By the stream Three paces only were we sunder’d: yet The Hellespont, where Xerxes pass’d it o’er, (A curb for ever to the pride of man) Was by Leander not more hateful held For floating, with inhospitable wave ’Twixt Sestus and Abydos, than by me That flood, because it gave no passage thence.

“Strangers ye come, and haply in this place, That cradled human nature in its birth, Wond’ring, ye not without suspicion view My smiles: but that sweet strain of psalmody, ‘Thou, Lord! hast made me glad,’ will give ye light, Which may uncloud your minds. And thou, who stand’st The foremost, and didst make thy suit to me, Say if aught else thou wish to hear: for I Came prompt to answer every doubt of thine.”

She spake; and I replied: “l know not how To reconcile this wave and rustling sound Of forest leaves, with what I late have heard Of opposite report.” She answering thus: “I will unfold the cause, whence that proceeds, Which makes thee wonder; and so purge the cloud That hath enwraps thee. The First Good, whose joy Is only in himself, created man For happiness, and gave this goodly place, His pledge and earnest of eternal peace. Favour’d thus highly, through his own defect He fell, and here made short sojourn; he fell, And, for the bitterness of sorrow, chang’d Laughter unblam’d and ever-new delight. That vapours none, exhal’d from earth beneath, Or from the waters (which, wherever heat Attracts them, follow), might ascend thus far To vex man’s peaceful state, this mountain rose So high toward the heav’n, nor fears the rage 0f elements contending, from that part Exempted, where the gate his limit bars. Because the circumambient air throughout With its first impulse circles still, unless Aught interpose to cheek or thwart its course; Upon the summit, which on every side To visitation of th’ impassive air Is open, doth that motion strike, and makes Beneath its sway th’ umbrageous wood resound: And in the shaken plant such power resides, That it impregnates with its efficacy The voyaging breeze, upon whose subtle plume That wafted flies abroad; and th’ other land Receiving (as ’tis worthy in itself, Or in the clime, that warms it), doth conceive, And from its womb produces many a tree Of various virtue. This when thou hast heard, The marvel ceases, if in yonder earth Some plant without apparent seed be found To fix its fibrous stem. And further learn, That with prolific foison of all seeds, This holy plain is fill’d, and in itself Bears fruit that ne’er was pluck’d on other soil. “The water, thou behold’st, springs not from vein, As stream, that intermittently repairs And spends his pulse of life, but issues forth From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure; And by the will omnific, full supply Feeds whatsoe’er On either side it pours; On this devolv’d with power to take away Remembrance of offence, on that to bring Remembrance back of every good deed done. From whence its name of Lethe on this part; On th’ other Eunoe: both of which must first Be tasted ere it work; the last exceeding All flavours else. Albeit thy thirst may now Be well contented, if I here break off, No more revealing: yet a corollary I freely give beside: nor deem my words Less grateful to thee, if they somewhat pass The stretch of promise. They, whose verse of yore The golden age recorded and its bliss, On the Parnassian mountain, of this place Perhaps had dream’d. Here was man guiltless, here Perpetual spring and every fruit, and this The far-fam’d nectar.” Turning to the bards, When she had ceas’d, I noted in their looks A smile at her conclusion; then my face Again directed to the lovely dame.

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Canto XXIX

Singing, as if enamour’d, she resum’d And clos’d the song, with “Blessed they whose sins Are cover’d.” Like the wood-nymphs then, that tripp’d Singly across the sylvan shadows, one Eager to view and one to ’scape the sun, So mov’d she on, against the current, up The verdant rivage. I, her mincing step Observing, with as tardy step pursued.

Between us not an hundred paces trod, The bank, on each side bending equally, Gave me to face the orient. Nor our way Far onward brought us, when to me at once She turn’d, and cried: “My brother! look and hearken.” And lo! a sudden lustre ran across Through the great forest on all parts, so bright I doubted whether lightning were abroad; But that expiring ever in the spleen, That doth unfold it, and this during still And waxing still in splendor, made me question What it might be: and a sweet melody Ran through the luminous air. Then did I chide With warrantable zeal the hardihood Of our first parent, for that there were earth Stood in obedience to the heav’ns, she only, Woman, the creature of an hour, endur’d not Restraint of any veil: which had she borne Devoutly, joys, ineffable as these, Had from the first, and long time since, been mine.

While through that wilderness of primy sweets That never fade, suspense I walk’d, and yet Expectant of beatitude more high, Before us, like a blazing fire, the air Under the green boughs glow’d; and, for a song, Distinct the sound of melody was heard.

O ye thrice holy virgins! for your sakes If e’er I suffer’d hunger, cold and watching, Occasion calls on me to crave your bounty. Now through my breast let Helicon his stream Pour copious; and Urania with her choir Arise to aid me: while the verse unfolds Things that do almost mock the grasp of thought.

Onward a space, what seem’d seven trees of gold, The intervening distance to mine eye Falsely presented; but when I was come So near them, that no lineament was lost Of those, with which a doubtful object, seen Remotely, plays on the misdeeming sense, Then did the faculty, that ministers Discourse to reason, these for tapers of gold Distinguish, and it th’ singing trace the sound “Hosanna.” Above, their beauteous garniture Flam’d with more ample lustre, than the moon Through cloudless sky at midnight in her full.

I turn’d me full of wonder to my guide; And he did answer with a countenance Charg’d with no less amazement: whence my view Reverted to those lofty things, which came So slowly moving towards us, that the bride Would have outstript them on her bridal day.

The lady called aloud: “Why thus yet burns Affection in thee for these living, lights, And dost not look on that which follows them?”

I straightway mark’d a tribe behind them walk, As if attendant on their leaders, cloth’d With raiment of such whiteness, as on earth Was never. On my left, the wat’ry gleam Borrow’d, and gave me back, when there I look’d. As in a mirror, my left side portray’d.

When I had chosen on the river’s edge Such station, that the distance of the stream Alone did separate me; there I stay’d My steps for clearer prospect, and beheld The flames go onward, leaving, as they went, The air behind them painted as with trail Of liveliest pencils! so distinct were mark’d All those sev’n listed colours, whence the sun Maketh his bow, and Cynthia her zone. These streaming gonfalons did flow beyond My vision; and ten paces, as I guess, Parted the outermost. Beneath a sky So beautiful, came foul and-twenty elders, By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown’d. All sang one song: “Blessed be thou among The daughters of Adam! and thy loveliness Blessed for ever!” After that the flowers, And the fresh herblets, on the opposite brink, Were free from that elected race; as light In heav’n doth second light, came after them Four animals, each crown’d with verdurous leaf. With six wings each was plum’d, the plumage full Of eyes, and th’ eyes of Argus would be such, Were they endued with life. Reader, more rhymes Will not waste in shadowing forth their form: For other need no straitens, that in this I may not give my bounty room. But read Ezekiel; for he paints them, from the north How he beheld them come by Chebar’s flood, In whirlwind, cloud and fire; and even such As thou shalt find them character’d by him, Here were they; save as to the pennons; there, From him departing, John accords with me.

The space, surrounded by the four, enclos’d A car triumphal: on two wheels it came Drawn at a Gryphon’s neck; and he above Stretch’d either wing uplifted, ’tween the midst And the three listed hues, on each side three; So that the wings did cleave or injure none; And out of sight they rose. The members, far As he was bird, were golden; white the rest With vermeil intervein’d. So beautiful A car in Rome ne’er grac’d Augustus pomp, Or Africanus’: e’en the sun’s itself Were poor to this, that chariot of the sun Erroneous, which in blazing ruin fell At Tellus’ pray’r devout, by the just doom Mysterious of all-seeing Jove. Three nymphs ,k the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance; The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce Been known within a furnace of clear flame: The next did look, as if the flesh and bones Were emerald: snow new-fallen seem’d the third. Now seem’d the white to lead, the ruddy now; And from her song who led, the others took Their treasure, swift or slow. At th’ other wheel, A band quaternion, each in purple clad, Advanc’d with festal step, as of them one The rest conducted, one, upon whose front Three eyes were seen. In rear of all this group, Two old men I beheld, dissimilar In raiment, but in port and gesture like, Solid and mainly grave; of whom the one Did show himself some favour’d counsellor Of the great Coan, him, whom nature made To serve the costliest creature of her tribe. His fellow mark’d an opposite intent, Bearing a sword, whose glitterance and keen edge, E’en as I view’d it with the flood between, Appall’d me. Next four others I beheld, Of humble seeming: and, behind them all, One single old man, sleeping, as he came, With a shrewd visage. And these seven, each Like the first troop were habited, hut wore No braid of lilies on their temples wreath’d. Rather with roses and each vermeil flower, A sight, but little distant, might have sworn, That they were all on fire above their brow.

Whenas the car was o’er against me, straight. Was heard a thund’ring, at whose voice it seem’d The chosen multitude were stay’d; for there, With the first ensigns, made they solemn halt.

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Canto XXX

Soon as the polar light, which never knows Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil Of other cloud than sin, fair ornament Of the first heav’n, to duty each one there Safely convoying, as that lower doth The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix’d; Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van Between the Gryphon and its radiance came, Did turn them to the car, as to their rest: And one, as if commission’d from above, In holy chant thrice shorted forth aloud: “Come, spouse, from Libanus!” and all the rest Took up the song—At the last audit so The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh, As, on the sacred litter, at the voice Authoritative of that elder, sprang A hundred ministers and messengers Of life eternal. “Blessed thou! who com’st!” And, “O,” they cried, “from full hands scatter ye Unwith’ring lilies;” and, so saying, cast Flowers over head and round them on all sides.

I have beheld, ere now, at break of day, The eastern clime all roseate, and the sky Oppos’d, one deep and beautiful serene, And the sun’s face so shaded, and with mists Attemper’d at lids rising, that the eye Long while endur’d the sight: thus in a cloud Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose, And down, within and outside of the car, Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreath’d, A virgin in my view appear’d, beneath Green mantle, rob’d in hue of living flame: And o’er my Spirit, that in former days Within her presence had abode so long, No shudd’ring terror crept. Mine eyes no more Had knowledge of her; yet there mov’d from her A hidden virtue, at whose touch awak’d, The power of ancient love was strong within me.

No sooner on my vision streaming, smote The heav’nly influence, which years past, and e’en In childhood, thrill’d me, than towards Virgil I Turn’d me to leftward, panting, like a babe, That flees for refuge to his mother’s breast, If aught have terrified or work’d him woe: And would have cried: “There is no dram of blood, That doth not quiver in me. The old flame Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire:” But Virgil had bereav’d us of himself, Virgil, my best-lov’d father; Virgil, he To whom I gave me up for safety: nor, All, our prime mother lost, avail’d to save My undew’d cheeks from blur of soiling tears.

“Dante, weep not, that Virgil leaves thee: nay, Weep thou not yet: behooves thee feel the edge Of other sword, and thou shalt weep for that.”

As to the prow or stern, some admiral Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew, When ’mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof; Thus on the left side of the car I saw, (Turning me at the sound of mine own name, Which here I am compell’d to register) The virgin station’d, who before appeared Veil’d in that festive shower angelical.

Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes; Though from her brow the veil descending, bound With foliage of Minerva, suffer’d not That I beheld her clearly; then with act Full royal, still insulting o’er her thrall, Added, as one, who speaking keepeth back The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech: “Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign’d at last Approach the mountain? knewest not, O man! Thy happiness is whole?” Down fell mine eyes On the clear fount, but there, myself espying, Recoil’d, and sought the greensward: such a weight Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien Of that stern majesty, which doth surround mother’s presence to her awe-struck child, She look’d; a flavour of such bitterness Was mingled in her pity. There her words Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang: “In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:” But went no farther than, “Thou Lord, hast set My feet in ample room.” As snow, that lies Amidst the living rafters on the back Of Italy congeal’d when drifted high And closely pil’d by rough Sclavonian blasts, Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls, And straightway melting it distils away, Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I, Without a sigh or tear, or ever these Did sing, that with the chiming of heav’n’s sphere, Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain Of dulcet symphony, express’d for me Their soft compassion, more than could the words “Virgin, why so consum’st him?” then the ice, Congeal’d about my bosom, turn’d itself To spirit and water, and with anguish forth Gush’d through the lips and eyelids from the heart.

Upon the chariot’s right edge still she stood, Immovable, and thus address’d her words To those bright semblances with pity touch’d: “Ye in th’ eternal day your vigils keep, So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth, Conveys from you a single step in all The goings on of life: thence with more heed I shape mine answer, for his ear intended, Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now May equal the transgression. Not alone Through operation of the mighty orbs, That mark each seed to some predestin’d aim, As with aspect or fortunate or ill The constellations meet, but through benign Largess of heav’nly graces, which rain down From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man Was in the freshness of his being, such, So gifted virtually, that in him All better habits wond’rously had thriv’d. The more of kindly strength is in the soil, So much doth evil seed and lack of culture Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness. These looks sometime upheld him; for I show’d My youthful eyes, and led him by their light In upright walking. Soon as I had reach’d The threshold of my second age, and chang’d My mortal for immortal, then he left me, And gave himself to others. When from flesh To spirit I had risen, and increase Of beauty and of virtue circled me, I was less dear to him, and valued less. His steps were turn’d into deceitful ways, Following false images of good, that make No promise perfect. Nor avail’d me aught To sue for inspirations, with the which, I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise, Did call him back; of them so little reck’d him, Such depth he fell, that all device was short Of his preserving, save that he should view The children of perdition. To this end I visited the purlieus of the dead: And one, who hath conducted him thus high, Receiv’d my supplications urg’d with weeping. It were a breaking of God’s high decree, If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted Without the cost of some repentant tear.”

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Canto XXXI

“O Thou!” her words she thus without delay Resuming, turn’d their point on me, to whom They but with lateral edge seem’d harsh before, ‘Say thou, who stand’st beyond the holy stream, If this be true. A charge so grievous needs Thine own avowal.” On my faculty Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir’d Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.

A little space refraining, then she spake: “What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave On thy remembrances of evil yet Hath done no injury.” A mingled sense Of fear and of confusion, from my lips Did such a “Yea “ produce, as needed help Of vision to interpret. As when breaks In act to be discharg’d, a cross-bow bent Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o’erstretch’d, The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark; Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst Beneath the heavy load, and thus my voice Was slacken’d on its way. She straight began: “When my desire invited thee to love The good, which sets a bound to our aspirings, What bar of thwarting foss or linked chain Did meet thee, that thou so should’st quit the hope Of further progress, or what bait of ease Or promise of allurement led thee on Elsewhere, that thou elsewhere should’st rather wait?”

A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice To answer, hardly to these sounds my lips Gave utterance, wailing: “Thy fair looks withdrawn, Things present, with deceitful pleasures, turn’d My steps aside.” She answering spake: “Hadst thou Been silent, or denied what thou avow’st, Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more: such eye Observes it. But whene’er the sinner’s cheek Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears Of self-accusing, in our court the wheel Of justice doth run counter to the edge. Howe’er that thou may’st profit by thy shame For errors past, and that henceforth more strength May arm thee, when thou hear’st the Siren-voice, Lay thou aside the motive to this grief, And lend attentive ear, while I unfold How opposite a way my buried flesh Should have impell’d thee. Never didst thou spy In art or nature aught so passing sweet, As were the limbs, that in their beauteous frame Enclos’d me, and are scatter’d now in dust. If sweetest thing thus fail’d thee with my death, What, afterward, of mortal should thy wish Have tempted? When thou first hadst felt the dart Of perishable things, in my departing For better realms, thy wing thou should’st have prun’d To follow me, and never stoop’d again To ’bide a second blow for a slight girl, Or other gaud as transient and as vain. The new and inexperienc’d bird awaits, Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler’s aim; But in the sight of one, whose plumes are full, In vain the net is spread, the arrow wing’d.”

I stood, as children silent and asham’d Stand, list’ning, with their eyes upon the earth, Acknowledging their fault and self-condemn’d. And she resum’d: “If, but to hear thus pains thee, Raise thou thy beard, and lo! what sight shall do!”

With less reluctance yields a sturdy holm, Rent from its fibers by a blast, that blows From off the pole, or from Iarbas’ land, Than I at her behest my visage rais’d: And thus the face denoting by the beard, I mark’d the secret sting her words convey’d.

No sooner lifted I mine aspect up, Than downward sunk that vision I beheld Of goodly creatures vanish; and mine eyes Yet unassur’d and wavering, bent their light On Beatrice. Towards the animal, Who joins two natures in one form, she turn’d, And, even under shadow of her veil, And parted by the verdant rill, that flow’d Between, in loveliness appear’d as much Her former self surpassing, as on earth All others she surpass’d. Remorseful goads Shot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more Its love had late beguil’d me, now the more I Was loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote The bitter consciousness, that on the ground O’erpower’d I fell: and what my state was then, She knows who was the cause. When now my strength Flow’d back, returning outward from the heart, The lady, whom alone I first had seen, I found above me. “Loose me not,” she cried: “Loose not thy hold;” and lo! had dragg’d me high As to my neck into the stream, while she, Still as she drew me after, swept along, Swift as a shuttle, bounding o’er the wave.

The blessed shore approaching then was heard So sweetly, “Tu asperges me,” that I May not remember, much less tell the sound. The beauteous dame, her arms expanding, clasp’d My temples, and immerg’d me, where ’twas fit The wave should drench me: and thence raising up, Within the fourfold dance of lovely nymphs Presented me so lav’d, and with their arm They each did cover me. “Here are we nymphs, And in the heav’n are stars. Or ever earth Was visited of Beatrice, we Appointed for her handmaids, tended on her. We to her eyes will lead thee; but the light Of gladness that is in them, well to scan, Those yonder three, of deeper ken than ours, Thy sight shall quicken.” Thus began their song; And then they led me to the Gryphon’s breast, While, turn’d toward us, Beatrice stood. “Spare not thy vision. We have stationed thee Before the emeralds, whence love erewhile Hath drawn his weapons on thee. “As they spake, A thousand fervent wishes riveted Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood Still fix’d toward the Gryphon motionless. As the sun strikes a mirror, even thus Within those orbs the twofold being, shone, For ever varying, in one figure now Reflected, now in other. Reader! muse How wond’rous in my sight it seem’d to mark A thing, albeit steadfast in itself, Yet in its imag’d semblance mutable.

Full of amaze, and joyous, while my soul Fed on the viand, whereof still desire Grows with satiety, the other three With gesture, that declar’d a loftier line, Advanc’d: to their own carol on they came Dancing in festive ring angelical.

“Turn, Beatrice!” was their song: “O turn Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one, Who to behold thee many a wearisome pace Hath measur’d. Gracious at our pray’r vouchsafe Unveil to him thy cheeks: that he may mark Thy second beauty, now conceal’d.” O splendour! O sacred light eternal! who is he So pale with musing in Pierian shades, Or with that fount so lavishly imbued, Whose spirit should not fail him in th’ essay To represent thee such as thou didst seem, When under cope of the still-chiming heaven Thou gav’st to open air thy charms reveal’d.

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Canto XXXII

Mine eyes with such an eager coveting, Were bent to rid them of their ten years’ thirst, No other sense was waking: and e’en they Were fenc’d on either side from heed of aught; So tangled in its custom’d toils that smile Of saintly brightness drew me to itself, When forcibly toward the left my sight The sacred virgins turn’d; for from their lips I heard the warning sounds: “Too fix’d a gaze!”

Awhile my vision labor’d; as when late Upon the’ o’erstrained eyes the sun hath smote: But soon to lesser object, as the view Was now recover’d (lesser in respect To that excess of sensible, whence late I had perforce been sunder’d) on their right I mark’d that glorious army wheel, and turn, Against the sun and sev’nfold lights, their front. As when, their bucklers for protection rais’d, A well-rang’d troop, with portly banners curl’d, Wheel circling, ere the whole can change their ground: E’en thus the goodly regiment of heav’n Proceeding, all did pass us, ere the car Had slop’d his beam. Attendant at the wheels The damsels turn’d; and on the Gryphon mov’d The sacred burden, with a pace so smooth, No feather on him trembled. The fair dame Who through the wave had drawn me, companied By Statius and myself, pursued the wheel, Whose orbit, rolling, mark’d a lesser arch.

Through the high wood, now void (the more her blame, Who by the serpent was beguil’d) I past With step in cadence to the harmony Angelic. Onward had we mov’d, as far Perchance as arrow at three several flights Full wing’d had sped, when from her station down Descended Beatrice. With one voice All murmur’d “Adam,” circling next a plant Despoil’d of flowers and leaf on every bough. Its tresses, spreading more as more they rose, Were such, as ’midst their forest wilds for height The Indians might have gaz’d at. “Blessed thou! Gryphon, whose beak hath never pluck’d that tree Pleasant to taste: for hence the appetite Was warp’d to evil.” Round the stately trunk Thus shouted forth the rest, to whom return’d The animal twice-gender’d: “Yea: for so The generation of the just are sav’d.” And turning to the chariot-pole, to foot He drew it of the widow’d branch, and bound There left unto the stock whereon it grew.

As when large floods of radiance from above Stream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends Next after setting of the scaly sign, Our plants then burgeon, and each wears anew His wonted colours, ere the sun have yok’d Beneath another star his flamy steeds; Thus putting forth a hue, more faint than rose, And deeper than the violet, was renew’d The plant, erewhile in all its branches bare.

Unearthly was the hymn, which then arose. I understood it not, nor to the end Endur’d the harmony. Had I the skill To pencil forth, how clos’d th’ unpitying eyes Slumb’ring, when Syrinx warbled, (eyes that paid So dearly for their watching,) then like painter, That with a model paints, I might design The manner of my falling into sleep. But feign who will the slumber cunningly; I pass it by to when I wak’d, and tell How suddenly a flash of splendour rent The curtain of my sleep, and one cries out: “Arise, what dost thou?” As the chosen three, On Tabor’s mount, admitted to behold The blossoming of that fair tree, whose fruit Is coveted of angels, and doth make Perpetual feast in heaven, to themselves Returning at the word, whence deeper sleeps Were broken, that they their tribe diminish’d saw, Both Moses and Elias gone, and chang’d The stole their master wore: thus to myself Returning, over me beheld I stand The piteous one, who cross the stream had brought My steps. “And where,” all doubting, I exclaim’d, “Is Beatrice?”—“See her,” she replied, “Beneath the fresh leaf seated on its root. Behold th’ associate choir that circles her. The others, with a melody more sweet And more profound, journeying to higher realms, Upon the Gryphon tend.” If there her words Were clos’d, I know not; but mine eyes had now Ta’en view of her, by whom all other thoughts Were barr’d admittance. On the very ground Alone she sat, as she had there been left A guard upon the wain, which I beheld Bound to the twyform beast. The seven nymphs Did make themselves a cloister round about her, And in their hands upheld those lights secure From blast septentrion and the gusty south.

“A little while thou shalt be forester here: And citizen shalt be forever with me, Of that true Rome, wherein Christ dwells a Roman To profit the misguided world, keep now Thine eyes upon the car; and what thou seest, Take heed thou write, returning to that place.”

Thus Beatrice: at whose feet inclin’d Devout, at her behest, my thought and eyes, I, as she bade, directed. Never fire, With so swift motion, forth a stormy cloud Leap’d downward from the welkin’s farthest bound, As I beheld the bird of Jove descending Pounce on the tree, and, as he rush’d, the rind, Disparting crush beneath him, buds much more And leaflets. On the car with all his might He struck, whence, staggering like a ship, it reel’d, At random driv’n, to starboard now, o’ercome, And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.

Next springing up into the chariot’s womb A fox I saw, with hunger seeming pin’d Of all good food. But, for his ugly sins The saintly maid rebuking him, away Scamp’ring he turn’d, fast as his hide-bound corpse Would bear him. Next, from whence before he came, I saw the eagle dart into the hull O’ th’ car, and leave it with his feathers lin’d; And then a voice, like that which issues forth From heart with sorrow riv’d, did issue forth From heav’n, and, “O poor bark of mine!” it cried, “How badly art thou freighted!” Then, it seem’d, That the earth open’d between either wheel, And I beheld a dragon issue thence, That through the chariot fix’d his forked train; And like a wasp that draggeth back the sting, So drawing forth his baleful train, he dragg’d Part of the bottom forth, and went his way Exulting. What remain’d, as lively turf With green herb, so did clothe itself with plumes, Which haply had with purpose chaste and kind Been offer’d; and therewith were cloth’d the wheels, Both one and other, and the beam, so quickly A sigh were not breath’d sooner. Thus transform’d, The holy structure, through its several parts, Did put forth heads, three on the beam, and one On every side; the first like oxen horn’d, But with a single horn upon their front The four. Like monster sight hath never seen. O’er it methought there sat, secure as rock On mountain’s lofty top, a shameless whore, Whose ken rov’d loosely round her. At her side, As ’twere that none might bear her off, I saw A giant stand; and ever, and anon They mingled kisses. But, her lustful eyes Chancing on me to wander, that fell minion Scourg’d her from head to foot all o’er; then full Of jealousy, and fierce with rage, unloos’d The monster, and dragg’d on, so far across The forest, that from me its shades alone Shielded the harlot and the new-form’d brute.

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Canto XXXIII

“The heathen, Lord! are come!” responsive thus, The trinal now, and now the virgin band Quaternion, their sweet psalmody began, Weeping; and Beatrice listen’d, sad And sighing, to the song’, in such a mood, That Mary, as she stood beside the cross, Was scarce more chang’d. But when they gave her place To speak, then, risen upright on her feet, She, with a colour glowing bright as fire, Did answer: “Yet a little while, and ye Shall see me not; and, my beloved sisters, Again a little while, and ye shall see me.”

Before her then she marshall’d all the seven, And, beck’ning only motion’d me, the dame, And that remaining sage, to follow her.

So on she pass’d; and had not set, I ween, Her tenth step to the ground, when with mine eyes Her eyes encounter’d; and, with visage mild, “So mend thy pace,” she cried, “that if my words Address thee, thou mayst still be aptly plac’d To hear them.” Soon as duly to her side I now had hasten’d: “Brother!” she began, “Why mak’st thou no attempt at questioning, As thus we walk together?” Like to those Who, speaking with too reverent an awe Before their betters, draw not forth the voice Alive unto their lips, befell me shell That I in sounds imperfect thus began: “Lady! what I have need of, that thou know’st, And what will suit my need.” She answering thus: “Of fearfulness and shame, I will, that thou Henceforth do rid thee: that thou speak no more, As one who dreams. Thus far be taught of me: The vessel, which thou saw’st the serpent break, Was and is not: let him, who hath the blame, Hope not to scare God’s vengeance with a sop. Without an heir for ever shall not be That eagle, he, who left the chariot plum’d, Which monster made it first and next a prey. Plainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars E’en now approaching, whose conjunction, free From all impediment and bar, brings on A season, in the which, one sent from God, (Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out) That foul one, and th’ accomplice of her guilt, The giant, both shall slay. And if perchance My saying, dark as Themis or as Sphinx, Fail to persuade thee, (since like them it foils The intellect with blindness) yet ere long Events shall be the Naiads, that will solve This knotty riddle, and no damage light On flock or field. Take heed; and as these words By me are utter’d, teach them even so To those who live that life, which is a race To death: and when thou writ’st them, keep in mind Not to conceal how thou hast seen the plant, That twice hath now been spoil’d. This whoso robs, This whoso plucks, with blasphemy of deed Sins against God, who for his use alone Creating hallow’d it. For taste of this, In pain and in desire, five thousand years And upward, the first soul did yearn for him, Who punish’d in himself the fatal gust.

“Thy reason slumbers, if it deem this height And summit thus inverted of the plant, Without due cause: and were not vainer thoughts, As Elsa’s numbing waters, to thy soul, And their fond pleasures had not dyed it dark As Pyramus the mulberry, thou hadst seen, In such momentous circumstance alone, God’s equal justice morally implied In the forbidden tree. But since I mark thee In understanding harden’d into stone, And, to that hardness, spotted too and stain’d, So that thine eye is dazzled at my word, I will, that, if not written, yet at least Painted thou take it in thee, for the cause, That one brings home his staff inwreath’d with palm.

“I thus: “As wax by seal, that changeth not Its impress, now is stamp’d my brain by thee. But wherefore soars thy wish’d-for speech so high Beyond my sight, that loses it the more, The more it strains to reach it?”—“To the end That thou mayst know,” she answer’d straight, “the school, That thou hast follow’d; and how far behind, When following my discourse, its learning halts: And mayst behold your art, from the divine As distant, as the disagreement is ’Twixt earth and heaven’s most high and rapturous orb.”

“I not remember,” I replied, “that e’er I was estrang’d from thee, nor for such fault Doth conscience chide me.” Smiling she return’d: “If thou canst, not remember, call to mind How lately thou hast drunk of Lethe’s wave; And, sure as smoke doth indicate a flame, In that forgetfulness itself conclude Blame from thy alienated will incurr’d. From henceforth verily my words shall be As naked as will suit them to appear In thy unpractis’d view.” More sparkling now, And with retarded course the sun possess’d The circle of mid-day, that varies still As th’ aspect varies of each several clime, When, as one, sent in vaward of a troop For escort, pauses, if perchance he spy Vestige of somewhat strange and rare: so paus’d The sev’nfold band, arriving at the verge Of a dun umbrage hoar, such as is seen, Beneath green leaves and gloomy branches, oft To overbrow a bleak and alpine cliff. And, where they stood, before them, as it seem’d, Tigris and Euphrates both beheld, Forth from one fountain issue; and, like friends, Linger at parting. “O enlight’ning beam! O glory of our kind! beseech thee say What water this, which from one source deriv’d Itself removes to distance from itself?”

To such entreaty answer thus was made: “Entreat Matilda, that she teach thee this.”

And here, as one, who clears himself of blame Imputed, the fair dame return’d: “Of me He this and more hath learnt; and I am safe That Lethe’s water hath not hid it from him.”

And Beatrice: “Some more pressing care That oft the memory ’reeves, perchance hath made His mind’s eye dark. But lo! where Eunoe cows! Lead thither; and, as thou art wont, revive His fainting virtue.” As a courteous spirit, That proffers no excuses, but as soon As he hath token of another’s will, Makes it his own; when she had ta’en me, thus The lovely maiden mov’d her on, and call’d To Statius with an air most lady-like: “Come thou with him.” Were further space allow’d, Then, Reader, might I sing, though but in part, That beverage, with whose sweetness I had ne’er Been sated. But, since all the leaves are full, Appointed for this second strain, mine art With warning bridle checks me. I return’d From the most holy wave, regenerate, If ’en as new plants renew’d with foliage new, Pure and made apt for mounting to the stars.

NOTES TO PURGATORY

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Canto I

Verse 1. O’er better waves.] Berni, Orl. Inn. L 2. c. i. Per correr maggior acqua alza le vele, O debil navicella del mio ingegno.

v. 11. Birds of chattering note.] For the fable of the daughters of Pierus, who challenged the muses to sing, and were by them changed into magpies, see Ovid, Met. 1. v. fab. 5.

v. 19. Planet.] Venus.

v. 20. Made all the orient laugh.] Hence Chaucer, Knight’s Tale: And all the orisont laugheth of the sight.

It is sometimes read “orient.”

v. 24. Four stars.] Symbolical of the four cardinal virtues, Prudence Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance. See Canto XXXI v. 105.

v. 30. The wain.] Charles’s wain, or Bootes.

v. 31. An old man.] Cato.

v. 92. Venerable plumes.] The same metaphor has occurred in Hell Canto XX. v. 41:

—the plumes, That mark’d the better sex.

It is used by Ford in the Lady’s Trial, a. 4. s. 2.

Now the down Of softness is exchang’d for plumes of age.

v. 58. The farthest gloom.] L’ultima sera. Ariosto, Oroando Furioso c. xxxiv st. 59: Che non hen visto ancor l’ultima sera.

And Filicaja, c. ix. Al Sonno. L’ultima sera.

v. 79. Marcia.] Da fredera prisci Illibata tori: da tantum nomen inane Connubil: liceat tumulo scripsisse, Catonis Martia Lucan, Phars. 1. ii. 344.

v. 110. I spy’d the trembling of the ocean stream.] Connubil il tremolar della marina.

Trissino, in the Sofonisba.] E resta in tremolar l’onda marina

And Fortiguerra, Rleelardetto, c. ix. st. 17. —visto il tremolar della marine.

v. 135. another.] From Virg, Aen. 1. vi. 143. Primo avulso non deficit alter

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Canto II

v. 1. Now had the sun.] Dante was now antipodal to Jerusalem, so that while the sun was setting with respect to that place which he supposes to be the middle of the inhabited earth, to him it was rising.

v. 6. The scales.] The constellation Libra.

v. 35. Winnowing the air.] Trattando l’acre con l’eterne penne.

80 Filicaja, canz. viii. st. 11. Ma trattar l’acre coll’ eterne plume

v. 45. In exitu.] “When Israel came out of Egypt.” Ps. cxiv.

v. 75. Thrice my hands.] Ter conatus ibi eollo dare brachia eircum, Ter frustra eomprensa manus effugit imago, Par levibus ventis voluerique simillima sommo. Virg. Aen. ii. 794.

Compare Homer, Od. xl. 205.

v. 88. My Casella.] A Florentine, celebrated for his skill in music, “in whose company,” says Landine, “Dante often recreated his spirits wearied by severe studies.” See Dr. Burney’s History of Music, vol. ii. c. iv. p. 322. Milton has a fine allusion to this meeting in his sonnet to Henry Lawes.

v. 90. Hath so much time been lost.] Casella had been dead some years but was only just arrived.

v. 91. He.] The eonducting angel.

v. 94. These three months past.] Since the time of the Jubilee, during which all spirits not condemned to eternal punishment, were supposed to pass over to Purgatory as soon as they pleased.

v. 96. The shore.] Ostia.

v. 170. “Love that discourses in my thoughts.”] “Amor che nella mente mi ragiona.” The first verse of a eanzone or song in the Convito of Dante, which he again cites in his Treatise de Vulg. Eloq. 1. ii. c. vi.

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Canto III

v. 9. How doth a little failing wound thee sore.] (Ch’era al cor picciol fallo amaro morso. Tasso, G. L. c. x. st. 59.

v. 11. Haste, that mars all decency of act. Aristotle in his Physiog iii. reekons it among the “the signs of an impudent man,” that he is “quick in his motions.” Compare Sophoeles, Electra, 878.

v. 26. To Naples.] Virgil died at Brundusium, from whence his body is said to have been removed to Naples.

v. 38. Desiring fruitlessly.] See H. Canto IV, 39.

v. 49. ’Twixt Lerice and Turbia.] At that time the two extremities of the Genoese republic, the former on the east, the latter on the west. A very ingenious writer has had occasion, for a different purpose, to mention one of these places as remarkably secluded by its mountainous situation “On an eminence among the mountains, between the two little cities, Nice and Manoca, is the village of Torbia, a name formed from the Greek [GREEK HERE] Mitford on the Harmony of Language, sect. x. p. 351. 2d edit.

v. 78. As sheep.] The imitative nature of these animals supplies our Poet with another comparison in his Convito Opere, t. i. p 34. Ediz. Ven. 1793.

v. 110. Manfredi. King of Naples and Sicily, and the natural son of Frederick II. He was lively end agreeable in his manners, and delighted in poetry, music, and dancing. But he was luxurious and ambitious. Void of religion, and in his philosophy an Epicurean. See G. Villani l. vi. c. xlvii. and Mr. Matthias’s Tiraboschi, v. I. p. 38. He fell in the battle with Charles of Anjou in 1265, alluded to in Canto XXVIII, of Hell, v. 13, “Dying, excommunicated, King Charles did allow of his being buried in sacred ground, but he was interred near the bridge of Benevento, and on his grave there was cast a stone by every one of the army whence there was formed a great mound of stones. But some ave said, that afterwards, by command of the Pope. the Bishop of Cosenza took up his body and sent it out of the kingdom, because it was the land of the church, and that it was buried by the river Verde, on the borders of the kingdom and of Carapagna. this, however, we do not affirm.” G. Villani, Hist. l. vii. c. 9.

v. 111. Costanza.] See Paradise Canto III. v. 121.

v. 112. My fair daughter.] Costanza, the daughter of Manfredi, and wife of Peter III. King of Arragon, by whom she was mother to Frederick, King of Sicily and James, King of Arragon With the latter of these she was at Rome 1296. See G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 18. and notes to Canto VII.

v. 122. Clement.] Pope Clement IV.

v. 127. The stream of Verde.] A river near Ascoli, that falls into he Toronto. The “xtinguished lights “ formed part of the ceremony t the interment of one excommunicated.

v. 130. Hope.] Mentre che la speranza ha fior del verde. Tasso, G. L. c. xix. st. 53. —infin che verde e fior di speme.

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Canto IV

v. 1. When.] It must be owned the beginning of this Canto is somewhat obscure. Bellutello refers, for an elucidation of it, to the reasoning of Statius in the twenty-fifth canto. Perhaps some illustration may be derived from the following, passage in South’s Sermons, in which I have ventured to supply the words between crotchets that seemed to be wanting to complete the sense. Now whether these three, judgement memory, and invention, are three distinct things, both in being distinguished from one another, and likewise from the substance of the soul itself, considered without any such faculties, (or whether the soul be one individual substance) but only receiving these several denominations rom the several respects arising from the several actions exerted immediately by itself upon several objects, or several qualities of the same object, I say whether of these it is, is not easy to decide, and it is well that it is not necessary Aquinas, and most with him, affirm the former, and Scotus with his followers the latter.” Vol. iv. Serm. 1.

v. 23. Sanleo.] A fortress on the summit of Montefeltro.

v. 24. Noli.] In the Genoese territory, between Finale and Savona.

v. 25. Bismantua.] A steep mountain in the territory of Reggio.

v. 55. From the left.] Vellutello observes an imitation of Lucan in this passage:

Ignotum vobis, Arabes, venistis in orbem, Umbras mirati nemornm non ire sinistras. Phars. s. 1. iii. 248

v. 69 Thou wilt see.] “If you consider that this mountain of Purgatory and that of Sion are antipodal to each other, you will perceive that the sun must rise on opposite sides of the respective eminences.”

v. 119. Belacqua.] Concerning this man, the commentators afford no information.

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Canto V

v. 14. Be as a tower.] Sta ome torre ferma

Berni, Orl. Inn. 1. 1. c. xvi. st. 48: In quei due piedi sta fermo il gigante Com’ una torre in mezzo d’un castello.

And Milton, P. L. b. i. 591. Stood like a tower.

v. 36. Ne’er saw I fiery vapours.] Imitated by Tasso, G. L, c. xix t. 62: Tal suol fendendo liquido sereno Stella cader della gran madre in seno.

And by Milton, P. L. b. iv. 558: Swift as a shooting star In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fir’d Impress the air.

v. 67. That land.] The Marca d’Ancona, between Romagna and Apulia, the kingdom of Charles of Anjou.

v. 76. From thence I came.] Giacopo del Cassero, a citizen of Fano who having spoken ill of Azzo da Este, Marquis of Ferrara, was by his orders put to death. Giacopo, was overtaken by the assassins at Oriaco a place near the Brenta, from whence, if he had fled towards Mira, higher up on that river, instead of making for the marsh on the sea shore, he might have escaped.

v. 75. Antenor’s land.] The city of Padua, said to be founded by Antenor.

v. 87. Of Montefeltro I.] Buonconte (son of Guido da Montefeltro, whom we have had in the twenty-seventh Canto of Hell) fell in the battle of Campaldino (1289), fighting on the side of the Aretini.

v. 88. Giovanna.] Either the wife, or kinswoman, of Buonconte.

v. 91. The hermit’s seat.] The hermitage of Camaldoli.

v. 95. Where its name is cancel’d.] That is, between Bibbiena and Poppi, where the Archiano falls into the Arno.

v. 115. From Pratomagno to the mountain range.] From Pratomagno now called Prato Vecchio (which divides the Valdarno from Casentino) as far as to the Apennine.

v. 131. Pia.] She is said to have been a Siennese lady, of the family of Tolommei, secretly made away with by her husband, Nello della Pietra, of the same city, in Maremma, where he had some possessions.

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Canto VI

v. 14. Of Arezzo him.] Benincasa of Arezzo, eminent for his skill in jurisprudence, who, having condemned to death Turrino da Turrita brother of Ghino di Tacco, for his robberies in Maremma, was murdered by Ghino, in an apartment of his own house, in the presence of many witnesses. Ghino was not only suffered to escape in safety, but (as the commentators inform us) obtained so high a reputation by the liberality with which he was accustomed to dispense the fruits of his plunder, and treated those who fell into his hands with so much courtesy, that he was afterwards invited to Rome, and knighted by Boniface VIII. A story is told of him by Boccaccio, G. x. N. 2.

v. 15. Him beside.] Ciacco de’ Tariatti of Arezzo. He is said to have been carried by his horse into the Arno, and there drowned, while he was in pursuit of certain of his enemies.

v. 17. Frederic Novello.] Son of the Conte Guido da Battifolle, and slain by one of the family of Bostoli.

v. 18. Of Pisa he.] Farinata de’ Scornigiani of Pisa. His father Marzuco, who had entered the order of the Frati Minori, so entirely overcame the feelings of resentment, that he even kissed the hands of the slayer of his son, and, as he was following the funeral, exhorted his kinsmen to reconciliation.

v. 20. Count 0rso.] Son of Napoleone da Cerbaia, slain by Alberto da Mangona, his uncle.

v. 23. Peter de la Brosse.] Secretary of Philip III of France. The courtiers, envying the high place which he held in the king’s favour, prevailed on Mary of Brabant to charge him falsely with an attempt upon her person for which supposed crime he suffered death. So say the Italian commentators. Henault represents the matter very differently: “Pierre de la Brosse, formerly barber to St. Louis, afterwards the favorite of Philip, fearing the too great attachment of the king for his wife Mary, accuses this princess of having poisoned Louis, eldest son of Philip, by his first marriage. This calumny is discovered by a nun of Nivelle in Flanders. La Brosse is hung.” Abrege Chron. t. 275, &c.

v. 30. In thy text.] He refers to Virgil, Aen. 1, vi. 376. Desine fata deum flecti sperare precando, 37. The sacred height Of judgment. Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, a. ii. s. 2. If he, which is the top of judgment

v. 66. Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.] A guisa di Leon quando si posa. A line taken by Tasso, G. L. c. x. st. 56.

v. 76. Sordello.] The history of Sordello’s life is wrapt in the obscurity of romance. That he distinguished himself by his skill in Provencal poetry is certain. It is probable that he was born towards the end of the twelfth, and died about the middle of the succeeding century. Tiraboschi has taken much pains to sift all the notices he could collect relating to him. Honourable mention of his name is made by our Poet in the Treatise de Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. c. 15.

v. 76. Thou inn of grief.] Thou most beauteous inn Why should hard-favour’d grief be lodg’d in thee? Shakespeare, Richard II a. 5. s. 1.

v. 89. Justinian’s hand.] “What avails it that Justinian delivered thee from the Goths, and reformed thy laws, if thou art no longer under the control of his successors in the empire?”

v. 94. That which God commands.] He alludes to the precept- “Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s.”

v. 98. O German Albert!] The Emperor Albert I. succeeded Adolphus in 1298, and was murdered in 1308. See Par Canto XIX 114 v. 103. Thy successor.] The successor of Albert was Henry of Luxembourg, by whose interposition in the affairs of Italy our Poet hoped to have been reinstated in his native city.

v. 101. Thy sire.] The Emperor Rodolph, too intent on increasing his power in Germany to give much of his thoughts to Italy, “the garden of the empire.”

v. 107. Capulets and Montagues.] Our ears are so familiarized to the names of these rival families in the language of Shakespeare, that I have used them instead of the “Montecchi” and “Cappelletti.”

v. 108. Philippeschi and Monaldi.] Two other rival families in Orvieto.

v. 113. What safety, Santafiore can supply.] A place between Pisa and Sienna. What he alludes to is so doubtful, that it is not certain whether we should not read “come si cura”—” How Santafiore is governed.” Perhaps the event related in the note to v. 58, Canto XI. may be pointed at.

v. 127. Marcellus.] Un Marcel diventa Ogni villan che parteggiando viene. Repeated by Alamanni in his Coltivazione, 1. i.

v. 51. I sick wretch.] Imitated by the Cardinal de Polignac in his Anti-Lucretius, 1. i. 1052.

Ceu lectum peragrat membris languentibus aeger In latus alterne faevum dextrumque recumbens Nec javat: inde oculos tollit resupinus in altum: Nusquam inventa quies; semper quaesita: quod illi Primum in deliciis fuerat, mox torquet et angit: Nec morburm sanat, nec fallit taedia morbi.

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Canto VII

v. 14. Where one of mean estate might clasp his lord.] Ariosto Orl. F. c. xxiv. st. 19

E l’abbracciaro, ove il maggior s’abbraccia Col capo nudo e col ginocchio chino.

v. 31. The three holy virtues.] Faith, Hope and Charity.

v. 32. The red.] Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance.

v. 72. Fresh emeralds.] Under foot the violet, Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay Broider’d the ground, more colour’d than with stone Of costliest emblem. Milton, P. L. b. iv. 793

Compare Ariosto, Orl. F. c. xxxiv. st. 49.

v. 79. Salve Regina.] The beginning of a prayer to the Virgin. It is sufficient here to observe, that in similar instances I shall either preserve the original Latin words or translate them, as it may seem best to suit the purpose of the verse.

v. 91. The Emperor Rodolph.] See the last Canto, v. 104. He died in 1291.

v. 95. That country.] Bohemia.

v. 97. Ottocar.] King of Bohemia, was killed in the battle of Marchfield, fought with Rodolph, August 26, 1278. Winceslaus II. His son,who succeeded him in the kingdom of Bohemia. died in 1305. He is again taxed with luxury in the Paradise Canto XIX. 123.

v. 101. That one with the nose deprest. ] Philip III of France, who died in 1285, at Perpignan, in his retreat from Arragon.

v. 102. Him of gentle look.] Henry of Naverre, father of Jane married to Philip IV of France, whom Dante calls “mal di Francia” -“Gallia’s bane.”

v. 110. He so robust of limb.] Peter III called the Great, King of Arragon, who died in 1285, leaving four sons, Alonzo, James, Frederick and Peter. The two former succeeded him in the kingdom of Arragon, and Frederick in that of Sicily. See G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 102. and Mariana, I. xiv. c. 9. He is enumerated among the Provencal poets by Millot, Hist. Litt. Des Troubadours, t. iii. p. 150.

v. 111. Him of feature prominent.] “Dal maschio naso”-with the masculine nose.” Charles I. King of Naples, Count of Anjou, and brother of St. Lonis. He died in 1284. The annalist of Florence remarks, that “there had been no sovereign of the house of France, since the time of Charlemagne, by whom Charles was surpassed either in military renown, and prowess, or in the loftiness of his understanding.” G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 94. We shall, however, find many of his actions severely reprobated in the twentieth Canto.

v. 113. That stripling.] Either (as the old commentators suppose) Alonzo III King of Arragon, the eldest son of Peter III who died in 1291, at the age of 27, or, according to Venturi, Peter the youngest son. The former was a young prince of virtue sufficient to have justified the eulogium and the hopes of Dante.

See Mariana, 1. xiv. c. 14.

v. 119. Rarely.] Full well can the wise poet of Florence That hight Dante, speaken in this sentence Lo! in such manner rime is Dantes tale. Full selde upriseth by his branches smale Prowesse of man for God of his goodnesse Woll that we claim of him our gentlenesse: For of our elders may we nothing claime But temporal thing, that men may hurt and maime. Chaucer, Wife of Bathe’s Tale.

Compare Homer, Od. b. ii. v. 276; Pindar, Nem. xi. 48 and Euripides, Electra, 369.

v. 122. To Charles.] “Al Nasuto.” -“Charles II King of Naples, is no less inferior to his father Charles I. than James and Frederick to theirs, Peter III.”

v. 127. Costanza.] Widow of Peter III She has been already mentioned in the third Canto, v. 112. By Beatrice and Margaret are probably meant two of the daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence; the former married to St. Louis of France, the latter to his brother Charles of Anjou. See Paradise, Canto Vl. 135. Dante therefore considers Peter as the most illustrious of the three monarchs.

v. 129. Harry of England.] Henry III.

v. 130. Better issue.] Edward l. of whose glory our Poet was perhaps a witness, in his visit to England.

v. 133. William, that brave Marquis.] William, Marquis of Monferrat, was treacherously seized by his own subjects, at Alessandria, in Lombardy, A.D. 1290, and ended his life in prison. See G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 135. A war ensued between the people of Alessandria and those of Monferrat and the Canavese.

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Canto VIII

v. 6. That seems to mourn for the expiring day.] The curfew tolls the knell of parting day. Gray’s Elegy.

v. 13. Te Lucis Ante.] The beginning of one of the evening hymns.

v. 36. As faculty.]

My earthly by his heav’nly overpower’d

* * * * As with an object, that excels the sense, Dazzled and spent. Milton, P. L. b. viii. 457.

v. 53. Nino, thou courteous judge.] Nino di Gallura de’ Visconti nephew to Count Ugolino de’ Gherardeschi, and betrayed by him. See Notes to Hell Canto XXXIII.

v. 65. Conrad.] Currado Malaspina.

v. 71 My Giovanna.] The daughter of Nino, and wife of Riccardo da Cammino of Trevigi.

v. 73. Her mother.] Beatrice, marchioness of Este wife of Nino, and after his death married to Galeazzo de’ Visconti of Milan.

v. 74. The white and wimpled folds.] The weeds of widowhood.

v. 80. The viper.] The arms of Galeazzo and the ensign of the Milanese.

v. 81. Shrill Gallura’s bird.] The cock was the ensign of Gallura, Nino’s province in Sardinia. Hell, Canto XXII. 80. and Notes.

v. 115. Valdimagra.] See Hell, Canto XXIV. 144. and Notes.

v. 133. Sev’n times the tired sun.] “The sun shall not enter into the constellation of Aries seven times more, before thou shalt have still better cause for the good opinion thou expresses” of Valdimagra, in the kind reception thou shalt there meet with.” Dante was hospitably received by the Marchese Marcello Malaspina, during his banishment. A.D. 1307.

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Canto IX

v. 1. Now the fair consort of Tithonus old.] La concubina di Titone antico. So Tassoni, Secchia Rapita, c. viii. st. 15. La puttanella del canuto amante.

v. 5. Of that chill animal.] The scorpion.

v. 14. Our minds.] Compare Hell, Canto XXVI. 7.

v. 18. A golden-feathered eagle. ] Chaucer, in the house of Fame at the conclusion of the first book and beginning of the second, represents himself carried up by the “grim pawes” of a golden eagle. Much of his description is closely imitated from Dante.

v. 50. Lucia.] The enIightening, grace of heaven Hell, Canto II. 97.

v. 85. The lowest stair.] By the white step is meant the distinctness with which the conscience of the penitent reflects his offences, by the burnt and cracked one, his contrition on, their account; and by that of porphyry, the fervour with which he resolves on the future pursuit of piety and virtue. Hence, no doubt, Milton describing “the gate of heaven,” P. L. b. iii. 516.

Each stair mysteriously was meant.

v. 100. Seven times.] Seven P’s, to denote the seven sins (Peccata) of which he was to be cleansed in his passage through purgatory.

v. 115. One is more precious.] The golden key denotes the divine authority by which the priest absolves the sinners the silver expresses the learning and judgment requisite for the due discharge of that office.

v. 127. Harsh was the grating.] On a sudden open fly With impetuous recoil and jarring, sound Th’ infernal doors, and on their hinges grate Harsh thunder Milton, P. L. b. ii 882

v. 128. The Turpeian.] Protinus, abducto patuerunt temple Metello. Tunc rupes Tarpeia sonat: magnoque reclusas Testatur stridore fores: tune conditus imo Eruitur tempo multis intactus ab annnis Romani census populi, &c. Lucan. Ph. 1. iii. 157.

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Canto X

v. 6. That Wound.] Venturi justly observes, that the Padre d’Aquino has misrepresented the sense of this passage in his translation.

—dabat ascensum tendentibus ultra Scissa tremensque silex, tenuique erratica motu.

The verb “muover” is used in the same signification in the Inferno, Canto XVIII. 21.

Cosi da imo della roccia scogli Moven.

—from the rock’s low base Thus flinty paths advanc’d.

In neither place is actual motion intended to be expressed.

v. 52. That from unbidden. office awes mankind.] Seo 2 Sam. G.

v 58. Preceding.] Ibid. 14, &c.

v. 68. Gregory.] St. Gregory’s prayers are said to have delivered Trajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto XX. 40.

v. 69. Trajan the Emperor. For this story, Landino refers to two writers, whom he calls “Heunando,” of France, by whom he means Elinand, a monk and chronicler, in the reign of Philip Augustus, and “Polycrato,” of England, by whom is meant John of Salisbury, author of the Polycraticus de Curialium Nugis, in the twelfth century. The passage in the text I find to be nearly a translation from that work, 1. v. c. 8. The original appears to be in Dio Cassius, where it is told of the Emperor Hadrian, lib. I xix. [GREEK HERE] When a woman appeared to him with a suit, as he was on a journey, at first he answered her, ‘I have no leisure,’ but she crying out to him, ‘then reign no longer’ he turned about, and heard her cause.”

v. 119. As to support.] Chillingworth, ch.vi. 54. speaks of “those crouching anticks, which seem in great buildings to labour under the weight they bear.” And Lord Shaftesbury has a similar illustration in his Essay on Wit and Humour, p. 4. s. 3.

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Canto XI

v. 1. 0 thou Mighty Father.] The first four lines are borrowed by Pulci, Morg. Magg. c. vi. Dante, in his ‘Credo,’ has again versified the Lord’s prayer.

v. 58. I was of Latinum.] Omberto, the son of Guglielino Aldobrandeseo, Count of Santafiore, in the territory of Sienna His arrogance provoked his countrymen to such a pitch of fury against him, that he was murdered by them at Campagnatico.

v. 79. Oderigi.] The illuminator, or miniature painter, a friend of Giotto and Dante

v. 83. Bolognian Franco.] Franco of Bologna, who is said to have been a pupil of Oderigi’s.

v. 93. Cimabue.] Giovanni Cimabue, the restorer of painting, was born at Florence, of a noble family, in 1240, and died in 1300. The passage in the text is an illusion to his epitaph:

Credidit ut Cimabos picturae castra tenere, Sic tenuit vivens: nunc tenet astra poli.

v. 95. The cry is Giotto’s.] In Giotto we have a proof at how early a period the fine arts were encouraged in Italy. His talents were discovered by Cimabue, while he was tending sheep for his father in the neighbourhood of Florence, and he was afterwards patronized by Pope Benedict XI and Robert King of Naples, and enjoyed the society and friendship of Dante, whose likeness he has transmitted to posterity. He died in 1336, at the age of 60.

v. 96. One Guido from the other.] Guido Cavalcanti, the friend of our Poet, (see Hell, Canto X. 59.) had eclipsed the literary fame of Guido Guinicelli, of a noble family in Bologna, whom we shall meet with in the twenty-sixth Canto and of whom frequent mention is made by our Poet in his Treatise de Vulg. Eloq. Guinicelli died in 1276. Many of Cavalcanti’s writings, hitherto in MS. are now publishing at Florence” Esprit des Journaux, Jan. 1813.

v. 97. He perhaps is born.] Some imagine, with much probability, that Dante here augurs the greatness of his own poetical reputation. Others have fancied that he prophesies the glory of Petrarch. But Petrarch was not yet born.

v. 136. suitor.] Provenzano salvani humbled himself so far for the sake of one of his friends, who was detained in captivity by Charles I of Sicily, as personally to supplicate the people of Sienna to contribute the sum required by the king for his ransom:

and this act of self-abasement atoned for his general ambition and pride.

v. 140. Thy neighbours soon.] “Thou wilt know in the time of thy banishment, which is near at hand, what it is to solicit favours of others and ‘tremble through every vein,’ lest they should be refused thee.”

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Canto XII

v. 26. The Thymbraen god.] Apollo

Si modo, quem perhibes, pater est Thymbraeus Apollo. Virg. Georg. iv. 323.

v. 37. Mars.]

With such a grace, The giants that attempted to scale heaven When they lay dead on the Phlegren plain Mars did appear to Jove. Beaumont and Fletcher, The Prophetess, a. 2. s. 3.

v. 42. O Rehoboam.] 1 Kings, c. xii. 18.

v. 46. A1cmaeon.] Virg. Aen. l. vi. 445, and Homer, Od. xi. 325.

v. 48. Sennacherib.] 2 Kings, c. xix. 37.

v. 58. What master of the pencil or the style.] —inimitable on earth By model, or by shading pencil drawn. Milton, P. L. b. iii. 509.

v. 94. The chapel stands.] The church of San Miniato in Florence situated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it is crossed by the bridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer Rubaconte da Mandelia, of Milan chief magistrate of Florence, by whom the bridge was founded in 1237. See G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 27.

v. 96. The well-guided city] This is said ironically of Florence.

v. 99. The registry.] In allusion to certain instances of fraud committed with respect to the public accounts and measures See Paradise Canto XVI. 103.

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Canto XIII

v. 26. They have no wine.] John, ii. 3. These words of the Virgin are referred to as an instance of charity.

v. 29. Orestes] Alluding to his friendship with Pylades

v. 32. Love ye those have wrong’d you.] Matt. c. v. 44.

v. 33. The scourge.] “The chastisement of envy consists in hearing examples of the opposite virtue, charity. As a curb and restraint on this vice, you will presently hear very different sounds, those of threatening and punishment.”

v. 87. Citizens Of one true city.] “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek to come.” Heb. C. xiii. 14.

v. 101. Sapia.] A lady of Sienna, who, living in exile at Colle, was so overjoyed at a defeat which her countrymen sustained near that place that she declared nothing more was wanting to make her die contented.

v. 114. The merlin.] The story of the merlin is that having been induced by a gleam of fine weather in the winter to escape from his master, he was soon oppressed by the rigour of the season.

v. 119. The hermit Piero.] Piero Pettinagno, a holy hermit of Florence.

v. 141. That vain multitude.] The Siennese. See Hell, Canto XXIX. 117. “Their acquisition of Telamone, a seaport on the confines of the Maremma, has led them to conceive hopes of becoming a naval power: but this scheme will prove as chimerical as their former plan for the discovery of a subterraneous stream under their city.” Why they gave the appellation of Diana to the imagined stream, Venturi says he leaves it to the antiquaries of Sienna to conjecture.

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Canto XIV

v. 34. Maim’d of Pelorus.] Virg. Aen. 1. iii. 414.

—a hill Torn from Pelorus Milton P. L. b. i. 232

v. 45. ’Midst brute swine.] The people of Casentino.

v. 49. Curs.] The Arno leaves Arezzo about four miles to the left.

v. 53. Wolves.] The Florentines.

v. 55. Foxes.] The Pisans

v. 61. Thy grandson.] Fulcieri de’ Calboli, grandson of Rinieri de’ Calboli, who is here spoken to. The atrocities predicted came to pass in 1302. See G. Villani, 1. viii c. 59

v. 95. ’Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore.] The boundaries of Romagna.

v. 99. Lizio.] Lizio da Valbona, introduced into Boccaccio’s Decameron, G. v. N, 4.

v. 100. Manardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna.1 Arrigo Manardi of Faenza, or as some say, of Brettinoro, Pier Traversaro, lord of Ravenna, and Guido di Carpigna of Montefeltro.

v. 102. In Bologna the low artisan.] One who had been a mechanic named Lambertaccio, arrived at almost supreme power in Bologna.

v. 103. Yon Bernardin.] Bernardin di Fosco, a man of low origin but great talents, who governed at Faenza.

v. 107. Prata.] A place between Faenza and Ravenna

v. 107. Of Azzo him.] Ugolino of the Ubaldini family in Tuscany He is recounted among the poets by Crescimbeni and Tiraboschi.

v. 108. Tignoso.] Federigo Tignoso of Rimini.

v. 109. Traversaro’s house and Anastagio’s.] Two noble families of Ravenna. She to whom Dryden has given the name of Honoria, in the fable so admirably paraphrased from Boccaccio, was of the former: her lover and the specter were of the Anastagi family.

v. 111. The ladies, &c.] These two lines express the true spirit of chivalry. “Agi” is understood by the commentators whom I have consulted,to mean “the ease procured for others by the exertions of knight-errantry.” But surely it signifies the alternation of ease with labour.

v. 114. O Brettinoro.] A beautifully situated castle in Romagna, the hospitable residence of Guido del Duca, who is here speaking.

v. 118. Baynacavallo.] A castle between Imola and Ravenna

v. 118. Castracaro ill And Conio worse.] Both in Romagna.

v. 121. Pagani.] The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola. One of them Machinardo, was named the Demon, from his treachery. See Hell, Canto XXVII. 47, and Note.

v. 124. Hugolin.] Ugolino Ubaldini, a noble and virtuous person in Faenza, who, on account of his age probably, was not likely to leave any offspring behind him. He is enumerated among the poets by Crescimbeni, and Tiraboschi. Mr. Matthias’s edit. vol. i. 143

v. 136. Whosoever finds Will slay me.] The words of Cain, Gen. e. iv. 14.

v. 142. Aglauros.] Ovid, Met. I, ii. fate. 12.

v. 145. There was the galling bit.] Referring to what had been before said, Canto XIII. 35.

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Canto XV

v. 1. As much.] It wanted three hours of sunset.

v. 16. As when the ray.] Compare Virg. Aen. 1.viii. 22, and Apol. Rhod. 1. iii. 755.

v. 19. Ascending at a glance.] Lucretius, 1. iv. 215.

v. 20. Differs from the stone.] The motion of light being quicker than that of a stone through an equal space.

v. 38. Blessed the merciful. Matt. c. v. 7.

v. 43. Romagna’s spirit.] Guido del Duea, of Brettinoro whom we have seen in the preceding Canto.

v. 87. A dame.] Luke, c. ii. 18

v. 101. How shall we those requite.] The answer of Pisistratus the tyrant to his wife, when she urged him to inflict the punishment of death on a young man, who, inflamed with love for his daughter, had snatched from her a kiss in public. The story is told by Valerius Maximus, 1.v. 1.

v. 105. A stripling youth.] The protomartyr Stephen.

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Canto XVI

v. 94. As thou.] “If thou wert still living.”

v. 46. I was of Lombardy, and Marco call’d.] A Venetian gentleman. “Lombardo” both was his surname and denoted the country to which he belonged. G. Villani, 1. vii. c. 120, terms him “a wise and worthy courtier.”

v. 58. Elsewhere.] He refers to what Guido del Duca had said in the thirteenth Canto, concerning the degeneracy of his countrymen.

v. 70. If this were so.] Mr. Crowe in his Lewesdon Hill has expressed similar sentiments with much energy.

Of this be sure, Where freedom is not, there no virtue is, &c.

Compare Origen in Genesim, Patrum Graecorum, vol. xi. p. 14. Wirer burgi, 1783. 8vo.

v. 79. To mightier force.] “Though ye are subject to a higher power than that of the heavenly constellations, e`en to the power of the great Creator himself, yet ye are still left in the possession of liberty.”

v. 88. Like a babe that wantons sportively.] This reminds one of the Emperor Hadrian’s verses to his departing soul:

Animula vagula blandula, &c

v. 99. The fortress.] Justice, the most necessary virtue in the chief magistrate, as the commentators explain it.

v. 103. Who.] He compares the Pope, on account of the union of the temporal with the spiritual power in his person, to an unclean beast in the levitical law. “The camel, because he cheweth the cud, but divideth not the hoof, he is unclean unto you.” Levit. c. xi. 4.

v. 110. Two sons.] The Emperor and the Bishop of Rome.

v. 117. That land.] Lombardy.

v. 119. Ere the day.] Before the Emperor Frederick II was defeated before Parma, in 1248. G. Villani, 1. vi. c. 35.

v. 126. The good Gherardo.] Gherardo di Camino of Trevigi. He is honourably mentioned in our Poet’s “Convito.” Opere di Dante, t. i. p. 173 Venez. 8vo. 1793. And Tiraboschi supposes him to have been the same Gherardo with whom the Provencal poets were used to meet with hospitable reception. See Mr. Matthias’s edition, t. i. p. 137, v. 127. Conrad.] Currado da Palazzo, a gentleman of Brescia.

v. 127. Guido of Castello.] Of Reggio. All the Italians were called Lombards by the French.

v. 144. His daughter Gaia.] A lady equally admired for her modesty, the beauty of her person, and the excellency of her talents. Gaia, says Tiraboschi, may perhaps lay claim to the praise of having been the first among the Italian ladies, by whom the vernacular poetry was cultivated. Ibid. p. 137.

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Canto XVII

v. 21. The bird, that most Delights itself in song.] I cannot think with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant. Dante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer’s Odyssey, b. xix. 518 rather than as later poets have told it. “She intended to slay the son of her husband’s brother Amphion, incited to it, by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.” Cowper’s note on the passage. In speaking of the nightingale, let me observe, that while some have considered its song as a melancholy, and others as a cheerful one, Chiabrera appears to have come nearest the truth, when he says, in the Alcippo, a. l. s. 1, Non mal si stanca d’ iterar le note O gioconde o dogliose, Al sentir dilettose.

Unwearied still reiterates her lays, Jocund or sad, delightful to the ear.

v. 26. One crucified.] Haman. See the book of Esther, c. vii. v. 34. A damsel.] Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief and indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself. Aen. 1. xii. 595.

v. 43. The broken slumber quivering ere it dies.] Venturi suggests that this bold and unusual metaphor may have been formed on that in Virgil.

Tempus erat quo prima quies mortalibus aegris Incipit, et dono divun gratissima serpit. Aen. 1. ii. 268.

v. 68. The peace-makers.] Matt. c. v. 9.

v. 81. The love.] “A defect in our love towards God, or lukewarmness in piety, is here removed.”

v. 94. The primal blessings.] Spiritual good.

v. 95. Th’ inferior.] Temporal good.

v. 102. Now.] “It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself, or to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore only rejoice in the evil which befalls others.”

v. 111. There is.] The proud.

v. 114. There is.] The envious.

v. 117. There is he.] The resentful.

v. 135. Along Three circles.] According to the allegorical commentators, as Venturi has observed, Reason is represented under the person of Virgil, and Sense under that of Dante. The former leaves to the latter to discover for itself the three carnal sins, avarice, gluttony and libidinousness; having already declared the nature of the spiritual sins, pride, envy, anger, and indifference, or lukewarmness in piety, which the Italians call accidia, from the Greek word. [GREEK HERE]

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Canto XVIII

v. 1. The teacher ended.] Compare Plato, Protagoras, v. iii. p. 123. Bip. edit. [GREEK HERE] Apoll. Rhod. 1. i. 513, and Milton, P. L. b. viii. 1. The angel ended, &c.

v. 23. Your apprehension.] It is literally, “Your apprehensive faculty derives intention from a thing really existing, and displays the intention within you, so that it makes the soul turn to it.” The commentators labour in explaining this; and whatever sense they have elicited may, I think, be resolved into the words of the translation in the text.

v. 47. Spirit.] The human soul, which differs from that of brutes, inasmuch as, though united with the body, it has a separate existence of its own. v. 65. Three men.] The great moral philosophers among the heathens.

v. 78. A crag.] I have preferred the reading of Landino, scheggion, “crag,” conceiving it to be more poetical than secchion, “bucket,” which is the common reading. The same cause, the vapours, which the commentators say might give the appearance of increased magnitude to the moon, might also make her seem broken at her rise.

v. 78. Up the vault.] The moon passed with a motion opposite to that of the heavens, through the constellation of the scorpion, in which the sun is, when to those who are in Rome he appears to set between the isles of Corsica and Sardinia.

v. 84. Andes.] Andes, now Pietola, made more famous than Mantua near which it is situated, by having been the birthplace of Virgil.

v. 92. Ismenus and Asopus.] Rivers near Thebes

v. 98. Mary.] Luke, c i. 39, 40

v. 99. Caesar.] See Lucan, Phars. I. iii. and iv, and Caesar de Bello Civiii, I. i. Caesar left Brutus to complete the siege of Marseilles, and hastened on to the attack of Afranius and Petreius, the generals of Pompey, at Ilerda (Lerida) in Spain.

v. 118. abbot.] Alberto, abbot of San Zeno in Verona, when Frederick I was emperor, by whom Milan was besieged and reduced to ashes.

v. 121. There is he.] Alberto della Scala, lord of Verona, who had made his natural son abbot of San Zeno.

v. 133. First they died.] The Israelites, who, on account of their disobedience, died before reaching the promised land.

v. 135. And they.] Virg Aen. 1. v.

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Canto XIX

v. 1. The hour.] Near the dawn.

v. 4. The geomancer.] The geomancers, says Landino, when they divined, drew a figure consisting of sixteen marks, named from so many stars which constitute the end of Aquarius and the beginning of Pisces. One of these they called “the greater fortune.”

v. 7. A woman’s shape.] Worldly happiness. This allegory reminds us of the “Choice of Hercules.”

v. 14. Love’s own hue.] A smile that glow’d Celestial rosy red, love’s proper hue. Milton, P. L. b. viii. 619

—facies pulcherrima tune est Quum porphyriaco variatur candida rubro Quid color hic roseus sibi vult? designat amorem: Quippe amor est igni similis; flammasque rubentes Ignus habere solet. Palingenii Zodiacus Vitae, 1. xii.

v. 26. A dame.] Philosophy.

v. 49. Who mourn.] Matt. c. v. 4.

v. 72. My soul.] Psalm cxix. 5

v. 97. The successor of Peter Ottobuono, of the family of Fieschi Counts of Lavagna, died thirty-nine days after he became Pope, with the title of Adrian V, in 1276.

v. 98. That stream.] The river Lavagna, in the Genoese territory.

v. 135. nor shall be giv’n in marriage.] Matt. c. xxii. 30. “Since in this state we neither marry nor are given in marriage, I am no longer the spouse of the church, and therefore no longer retain my former dignity.

v. 140. A kinswoman.] Alagia is said to have been the wife of the Marchese Marcello Malaspina, one of the poet’s protectors during his exile. See Canto VIII. 133.

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Canto XX

v. 3. I drew the sponge.] “I did not persevere in my inquiries from the spirit though still anxious to learn more.” v. 11. Wolf.] Avarice.

v. 16. Of his appearing.] He is thought to allude to Can Grande della Scala. See Hell, Canto I. 98.

v. 25. Fabricius.] Compare Petrarch, Tr. della Fama, c. 1.

Un Curio ed un Fabricio, &c.

v. 30. Nicholas.] The story of Nicholas is, that an angel having revealed to him that the father of a family was so impoverished as to resolve on exposing the chastity of his three daughters to sale, he threw in at the window of their house three bags of money, containing a sufficient portion for each of them. v. 42. Root.] Hugh Capet, ancestor of Philip IV. v. 46. Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power.] These cities had lately been seized by Philip IV. The spirit is made to imitate the approaching defeat of the French army by the Flemings, in the battle of Courtrai, which happened in 1302. v. 51. The slaughter’s trade.] This reflection on the birth of his ancestor induced Francis I to forbid the reading of Dante in his dominions Hugh Capet, who came to the throne of France in 987, was however the grandson of Robert, who was the brother of Eudes, King of France in 888.

v. 52. All save one.] The posterity of Charlemagne, the second race of French monarchs, had failed, with the exception of Charles of Lorraine who is said, on account of the melancholy temper of his mind, to have always clothed himself in black. Venturi suggest that Dante may have confounded him with Childeric III the last of the Merosvingian, or first, race, who was deposed and made a monk in 751.

v. 57. My son.] Hugh Capet caused his son Robert to be crowned at Orleans.

v. 59. The Great dower of Provence.] Louis IX, and his brother Charles of Anjou, married two of the four daughters of Raymond Berenger Count of Provence. See Par. Canto VI. 135.

v. 63. For amends.] This is ironical

v. 64. Poitou it seiz’d, Navarre and Gascony.] I venture to read- Potti e Navarra prese e Guascogna,

instead of

Ponti e Normandia prese e Guascogna Seiz’d Ponthieu, Normandy and Gascogny.

Landino has “Potti,” and he is probably right for Poitou was annexed to the French crown by Philip IV. See Henault, Abrege Chron. A.D. l283, &c. Normandy had been united to it long before by Philip Augustus, a circumstance of which it is difficult to imagine that Dante should have been ignorant, but Philip IV, says Henault, ibid., took the title of King of Navarre: and the subjugation of Navarre is also alluded to in the Paradise, Canto XIX. 140. In 1293, Philip IV summoned Edward I. to do him homage for the duchy of Gascogny, which he had conceived the design of seizing. See G. Villani, l. viii. c. 4.

v. 66. Young Conradine.] Charles of Anjou put Conradine to death in 1268; and became King of Naples. See Hell, Canto XXVIII, 16, and Note.

v. 67. Th’ angelic teacher.] Thomas Aquinas. He was reported to have been poisoned by a physician, who wished to ingratiate himself with Charles of Anjou. G. Villani, I. ix. c. 218. We shall find him in the Paradise, Canto X.

v. 69. Another Charles.] Charles of Valois, brother of Philip IV, was sent by Pope Boniface VIII to settle the disturbed state of Florence. In consequence of the measures he adopted for that purpose, our poet and his friend, were condemned to exile and death.

v. 71. -with that lance Which the arch-traitor tilted with.]

con la lancia Con la qual giostro Guida.

If I remember right, in one of the old romances, Judas is represented tilting with our Saviour.

v. 78. The other.] Charles, King of Naples, the eldest son of Charles of Anjou, having, contrary to the directions of his father, engaged with Ruggier de Lauria, the admiral of Peter of Arragon, was made prisoner and carried into Sicily, June, 1284. He afterwards, in consideration of a large sum of money, married his daughter to Azzo VI11, Marquis of Ferrara.

v. 85. The flower-de-luce.] Boniface VIII was seized at Alagna in Campagna, by order of Philip IV., in the year 1303, and soon after died of grief. G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 63.

v. 94. Into the temple.] It is uncertain whether our Poet alludes still to the event mentioned in the preceding Note, or to the destruction of the order of the Templars in 1310, but the latter appears more probable.

v. 103. Pygmalion.] Virg. Aen. 1. i. 348.

v. 107. Achan.] Joshua, c. vii.

v. 111. Heliodorus.] 2 Maccabees, c. iii. 25. “For there appeared unto them a horse, with a terrible rider upon him, and adorned with a very fair covering, and he ran fiercely and smote at Heliodorus with his forefeet.”

v. 112. Thracia’s king.] Polymnestor, the murderer of Polydorus. Hell, Canto XXX, 19.

v. 114. Crassus.] Marcus Crassus, who fell miserably in the Parthian war. See Appian, Parthica.

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Canto XXI

v. 26. She.] Lachesis, one of the three fates.

v. 43. —that, which heaven in itself Doth of itself receive.] Venturi, I think rightly interprets this to be light.

v. 49. Thaumantian.] Figlia di Taumante [GREEK HERE]

Compare Plato, Theaet. v. ii. p. 76. Bip. edit., Virg; Aen. ix. 5, and Spenser, Faery Queen, b. v. c. 3. st. 25.

v. 85. The name.] The name of Poet.

v. 89. From Tolosa.] Dante, as many others have done, confounds Statius the poet, who was a Neapolitan, with a rhetorician of the same name, who was of Tolosa, or Thoulouse. Thus Chaucer, Temple of Fame, b. iii. The Tholason, that height Stace.

v. 94. Fell.] Statius lived to write only a small part of the Achilleid.

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Canto XXII

v. 5. Blessed.] Matt. v. 6.

v. 14. Aquinum’s bard.] Juvenal had celebrated his contemporary Statius, Sat. vii. 82; though some critics imagine that there is a secret derision couched under his praise.

v. 28. Why.] Quid non mortalia pecaora cogis Anri sacra fames? Virg. Aen. 1. iii. 57

Venturi supposes that Dante might have mistaken the meaning of the word sacra, and construed it “holy,” instead of “cursed.” But I see no necessity for having recourse to so improbable a conjecture.

v. 41. The fierce encounter.] See Hell, Canto VII. 26.

v. 46. With shorn locks.] Ibid. 58.

v. 57. The twin sorrow of Jocasta’s womb.] Eteocles and Polynices

v. 71. A renovated world.] Virg. Ecl. iv. 5

v. 100. That Greek.] Homer

v. 107. Of thy train. ] Of those celebrated in thy Poem.”

v. 112. Tiresias’ daughter.] Dante appears to have forgotten that he had placed Manto, the daughter of Tiresias, among the sorcerers. See Hell Canto XX. Vellutello endeavours, rather awkwardly, to reconcile the inconsistency, by observing, that although she was placed there as a sinner, yet, as one of famous memory, she had also a place among the worthies in Limbo.

Lombardi excuses our author better, by observing that Tiresias had a daughter named Daphne. See Diodorus Siculus, 1. iv. 66.

v. 139. Mary took more thought.] “The blessed virgin, who answers for yon now in heaven, when she said to Jesus, at the marriage in Cana of Galilee, ‘they have no wine,’ regarded not the gratification of her own taste, but the honour of the nuptial banquet.”

v. 142 The women of old Rome.] See Valerius Maximus, 1. ii. c. i.

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Canto XXIII

v. 9. My lips.] Psalm ii. 15.

v. 20. The eyes.] Compare Ovid, Metam. 1. viii. 801

v. 26. When Mary.] Josephus, De Bello Jud. 1. vii. c. xxi. p. 954 Ed Genev. fol. 1611. The shocking story is well told

v. 27. Rings.] In this habit Met I my father with his bleeding rings Their precious stones new lost. Shakespeare, Lear, a. 5. s. 3

v. 28. Who reads the name.] “He, who pretends to distinguish the letters which form OMO in the features of the human face, “might easily have traced out the M on their emaciated countenances.” The temples, nose, and forehead are supposed to represent this letter; and the eyes the two O’s placed within each side of it.

v. 44. Forese.] One of the brothers of Piccarda, she who is again spoken of in the next Canto, and introduced in the Paradise, Canto III.

V. 72. If the power.] “If thou didst delay thy repentance to the last, when thou hadst lost the power of sinning, how happens it thou art arrived here so early?”

v. 76. Lower.] In the Ante-Purgatory. See Canto II.

v. 80. My Nella.] The wife of Forese.

v. 87. The tract most barb’rous of Sardinia’s isle.] The Barbagia is part of Sardinia, to which that name was given, on account of the uncivilized state of its inhabitants, who are said to have gone nearly naked.

v. 91. The’ unblushing domes of Florence.] Landino’s note exhibits a curious instance of the changeableness of his countrywomen. He even goes beyond the acrimony of the original. “In those days,” says the commentator, “no less than in ours, the Florentine ladies exposed the neck and bosom, a dress, no doubt, more suitable to a harlot than a matron. But, as they changed soon after, insomuch that they wore collars up to the chin, covering the whole of the neck and throat, so have I hopes they will change again; not indeed so much from motives of decency, as through that fickleness, which pervades every action of their lives.”

v. 97. Saracens.] “This word, during the middle ages, was indiscriminately applied to Pagans and Mahometans; in short, to all nations (except the Jew’s) who did not profess Christianity.” Mr. Ellis’s specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. i. page 196, a note. Lond. 8vo. 1805.

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Canto XXIV

v. 20. Buonaggiunta.] Buonaggiunta Urbiciani, of Lucca. “There is a canzone by this poet, printed in the collection made by the Giunti, (p. 209,).land a sonnet to Guido Guinicelli in that made by Corbinelli, (p 169,) from which we collect that he lived not about 1230, as Quadrio supposes, (t. ii. p. 159,) but towards the end of the thirteenth century. Concerning, other poems by Buonaggiunta, that are preserved in MS. in some libraries, Crescimbeni may be consulted.” Tiraboschi, Mr. Matthias’s ed. v. i. p. 115.

v. 23. He was of Tours.] Simon of Tours became Pope, with the title of Martin IV in 1281 and died in 1285.

v. 29. Ubaldino.] Ubaldino degli Ubaldini, of Pila, in the Florentine territory.

v. 30. Boniface.] Archbishop of Ravenna. By Venturi he is called Bonifazio de Fieschi, a Genoese, by Vellutello, the son of the above, mentioned Ubaldini and by Laudino Francioso, a Frenchman.

v. 32. The Marquis.] The Marchese de’ Rigogliosi, of Forli.

v. 38. gentucca.] Of this lady it is thought that our Poet became enamoured during his exile. v. 45. Whose brow no wimple shades yet.] “Who has not yet assumed the dress of a woman.”

v. 46. Blame it as they may.] See Hell, Canto XXI. 39.

v. 51. Ladies, ye that con the lore of love.]Donne ch’ avete intelletto d’amore.The first verse of a canzone in our author’s Vita Nuova.

v. 56. The Notary.] Jucopo da Lentino, called the Notary, a poet of these times. He was probably an Apulian: for Dante, (De Vulg. Eloq. I. i. c 12.) quoting a verse which belongs to a canzone of his published by the Giunti, without mentioning the writer’s name, terms him one of “the illustrious Apulians,” praefulgentes Apuli. See Tiraboschi, Mr. Matthias’s edit. vol. i. p. 137. Crescimbeni (1. i. Della Volg. Poes p. 72. 4to. ed. 1698) gives an extract from one of his poems, printed in Allacci’s Collection, to show that the whimsical compositions called “Ariette “ are not of modern invention.

v. 56. Guittone.] Fra Guittone, of Arezzo, holds a distinguished place in Italian literature, as besides his poems printed in the collection of the Giunti, he has left a collection of letters, forty in number, which afford the earliest specimen of that kind of writing in the language. They were published at Rome in 1743, with learned illustrations by Giovanni Bottari. He was also the first who gave to the sonnet its regular and legitimate form, a species of composition in which not only his own countrymen, but many of the best poets in all the cultivated languages of modern Europe, have since so much delighted.

Guittone, a native of Arezzo, was the son of Viva di Michele. He was of the order of the “ Frati Godenti,” of which an account may be seen in the Notes to Hell, Canto XXIII. In the year 1293, he founded a monastery of the order of Camaldoli, in Florence, and died in the following year. Tiraboschi, Ibid. p. 119. Dante, in the Treatise de Vulg. Eloq. 1. i. c. 13, and 1. ii. c. 6., blames him for preferring the plebeian to the mor courtly style; and Petrarch twice places him in the company of our Poet. Triumph of Love, cap. iv. and Son. Par. See “Sennuccio mio”

v. 63. The birds.] Hell, Canto V. 46, Euripides, Helena, 1495, and Statius; Theb. 1. V. 12. v. 81. He.] Corso Donati was suspected of aiming at the sovereignty of Florence. To escape the fury of his fellow citizens, he fled away on horseback, but failing, was overtaken and slain, A.D. 1308. The contemporary annalist, after relating at length the circumstances of his fate, adds, “that he was one of the wisest and most valorous knights the best speaker, the most expert statesman, the most renowned and enterprising, man of his age in Italy, a comely knight and of graceful carriage, but very worldly, and in his time had formed many conspiracies in Florence and entered into many scandalous practices, for the sake of attaining state and lordship.” G. Villani, 1. viii. c. 96. The character of Corso is forcibly drawn by another of his contemporaries Dino Compagni. 1. iii., Muratori, Rer. Ital. Script. t. ix. p. 523.

v. 129. Creatures of the clouds.] The Centaurs. Ovid. Met. 1. fab. 4 v. 123. The Hebrews.] Judges, c. vii.

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Canto XXV

v. 58. As sea-sponge.] The fetus is in this stage is zoophyte.

v. 66. -More wise Than thou, has erred.] Averroes is said to be here meant. Venturi refers to his commentary on Aristotle, De Anim 1. iii. c. 5. for the opinion that there is only one universal intellect or mind pervading every individual of the human race. Much of the knowledge displayed by our Poet in the present Canto appears to have been derived from the medical work o+ Averroes, called the Colliget. Lib. ii. f. 10. Ven. 1400. fol.

v. 79. Mark the sun’s heat.] Redi and Tiraboschi (Mr. Matthias’s ed. v. ii. p. 36.) have considered this an anticipation of a profound discovery of Galileo’s in natural philosophy, but it is in reality taken from a passage in Cicero “de Senectute,” where, speaking of the grape, he says, “ quae, et succo terrae et calore solis augescens, primo est peracerba gustatu, deinde maturata dulcescit.”

v. 123. I do, not know a man.] Luke, c. i. 34.

v. 126. Callisto.] See Ovid, Met. 1. ii. fab. 5.

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Canto XXVI

v. 70. Caesar.] For the opprobrium east on Caesar’s effeminacy, see Suetonius, Julius Caesar, c. 49.

v. 83. Guinicelli.] See Note to Canto XI. 96.

v. 87. lycurgus.] Statius, Theb. 1. iv. and v. Hypsipile had left her infant charge, the son of Lycurgus, on a bank, where it was destroyed by a serpent, when she went to show the Argive army the river of Langia: and, on her escaping the effects of Lycurgus’s resentment, the joy her own children felt at the sight of her was such as our Poet felt on beholding his predecessor Guinicelli.

The incidents are beautifully described in Statius, and seem to have made an impression on Dante, for he again (Canto XXII. 110.) characterizes Hypsipile, as her- Who show’d Langia’s wave.

v. 111. He.] The united testimony of Dante, and of Petrarch, in his Triumph of Love, e. iv. places Arnault Daniel at the head of the Provencal poets. That he was born of poor but noble parents, at the castle of Ribeyrae in Perigord, and that he was at the English court, is the amount of Millot’s information concerning him (t. ii. p. 479).

The account there given of his writings is not much more satisfactory, and the criticism on them must go for little better than nothing.

It is to be regretted that we have not an opportunity of judging for ourselves of his “love ditties and his tales of prose “

Versi d’amore e prose di romanzi.

Our Poet frequently cities him in the work De Vulgari Eloquentia. According to Crescimbeni, (Della Volg. Poes. 1. 1. p. 7. ed. 1698.) He died in 1189.

v. 113. The songster of Limoges.] Giraud de Borneil, of Sideuil, a castle in Limoges. He was a troubadour, much admired and caressed in his day, and appears to have been in favour with the monarchs of Castile, Leon, Navarre, and Arragon He is quoted by Dante, De Vulg. Eloq., and many of his poems are still remaining in MS. According to Nostradamus he died in 1278. Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troub. t. ii. p. 1 and 23. But I suspect that there is some error in this date, and that he did not live to see so late a period.

v. 118. Guittone.] See Cano XXIV. 56.

v. 123. Far as needs.] See Canto XI. 23.

v. 132. Thy courtesy.] Arnault is here made to speak in his own tongue, the Provencal. According to Dante, (De Vulg. Eloq. 1. 1. c. 8.) the Provencal was one language with the Spanish. What he says on this subject is so curious, that the reader will perhaps not be displeased it I give an abstract of it.

He first makes three great divisions of the European languages. “One of these extends from the mouths of the Danube, or the lake of Maeotis, to the western limits of England, and is bounded by the limits of the French and Italians, and by the ocean. One idiom obtained over the whole of this space: but was afterwards subdivided into, the Sclavonian, Hungarian, Teutonic, Saxon, English, and the vernacular tongues of several other people, one sign remaining to all, that they use the affirmative io, (our English ay.) The whole of Europe, beginning from the Hungarian limits and stretching towards the east, has a second idiom which reaches still further than the end of Europe into Asia. This is the Greek. In all that remains of Europe, there is a third idiom subdivided into three dialects, which may be severally distinguished by the use of the affirmatives, oc, oil, and si; the first spoken by the Spaniards, the next by the French, and the third by the Latins (or Italians). The first occupy the western part of southern Europe, beginning from the limits of the Genoese. The third occupy the eastern part from the said limits, as far, that is, as the promontory of Italy, where the Adriatic sea begins, and to Sicily. The second are in a manner northern with respect to these for they have the Germans to the east and north, on the west they are bounded by the English sea, and the mountains of Arragon, and on the south by the people of Provence and the declivity of the Apennine.” Ibid. c. x. “Each of these three,” he observes, “has its own claims to distinction The excellency of the French language consists in its being best adapted, on account of its facility and agreeableness, to prose narration, (quicquid redactum, sive inventum est ad vulgare prosaicum suum est); and he instances the books compiled on the gests of the Trojans and Romans and the delightful adventures of King Arthur, with many other histories and works of instruction. The Spanish (or Provencal) may boast of its having produced such as first cultivated in this as in a more perfect and sweet language, the vernacular poetry: among whom are Pierre d’Auvergne, and others more ancient. The privileges of the Latin, or Italian are two: first that it may reckon for its own those writers who have adopted a more sweet and subtle style of poetry, in the number of whom are Cino, da Pistoia and his friend, and the next, that its writers seem to adhere to, certain general rules of grammar, and in so doing give it, in the opinion of the intelligent, a very weighty pretension to preference.”

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Canto XXVII

v. 1. The sun.] At Jerusalem it was dawn, in Spain midnight, and in India noonday, while it was sunset in Purgatory

v. 10. Blessed.] Matt. c. v. 8.

v. 57. Come.] Matt. c. xxv. 34.

v. 102. I am Leah.] By Leah is understood the active life, as Rachel figures the contemplative. The divinity is the mirror in which the latter looks. Michel Angelo has made these allegorical personages the subject of two statues on the monument of Julius II. in the church of S. Pietro in Vincolo. See Mr. Duppa’s Life of Michel Angelo, Sculpture viii. And x. and p 247.

v. 135. Those bright eyes.] The eyes of Beatrice.

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Canto XXVIII

v. 11. To that part.] The west.

v. 14. The feather’d quiristers] Imitated by Boccaccio, Fiammetta, 1. iv. “Odi i queruli uccelli,” &c. —“Hear the querulous birds plaining with sweet songs, and the boughs trembling, and, moved by a gentle wind, as it were keeping tenor to their notes.”

v. 7. A pleasant air.] Compare Ariosto, O. F. c. xxxiv. st. 50.

v. Chiassi.] This is the wood where the scene of Boccaccio’s sublimest story is laid. See Dec. g. 5. n. 8. and Dryden’s Theodore and Honoria Our Poet perhaps wandered in it daring his abode with Guido Novello da Polenta.

v. 41. A lady.] Most of the commentators suppose, that by this lady, who in the last Canto is called Matilda, is to be understood the Countess Matilda, who endowed the holy see with the estates called the Patrimony of St. Peter, and died in 1115. See G. Villani, 1. iv. e. 20 But it seems more probable that she should be intended for an allegorical personage.

v. 80. Thou, Lord hast made me glad.] Psalm xcii. 4

v. 146. On the Parnassian mountain.] In bicipiti somniasse Parnasso. Persius Prol.

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Canto XXIX

v. 76. Listed colours.] Di sette liste tutte in quel colori, &c. —a bow Conspicuous with three listed colours gay. Milton, P. L. b. xi. 865.

v. 79. Ten paces.] For an explanation of the allegorical meaning of this mysterious procession, Venturi refers those “who would see in the dark” to the commentaries of Landino, Vellutello, and others: and adds that it is evident the Poet has accommodated to his own fancy many sacred images in the Apocalypse. In Vasari’s Life of Giotto, we learn that Dante recommended that book to his friend, as affording fit subjects for his pencil.

v. 89. Four.] The four evangelists.

v. 96. Ezekiel.] Chap. 1. 4.

v. 101. John.] Rev. c. iv. 8.

v. 104. Gryphon.] Under the Gryphon, an imaginary creature, the forepart of which is an eagle, and the hinder a lion, is shadowed forth the union of the divine and human nature in Jesus Christ. The car is the church.

v. 115. Tellus’ prayer.] Ovid, Met. 1. ii. v. 279.

v. 116. Three nymphs.] The three evangelical virtues: the first Charity, the next Hope, and the third Faith. Faith may be produced by charity, or charity by faith, but the inducements to hope must arise either from one or other of these.

v. 125. A band quaternion.] The four moral or cardinal virtues, of whom Prudence directs the others.

v. 129. Two old men.] Saint Luke, characterized as the writer of the Arts of the Apostles and Saint Paul.

v. 133. Of the great Coan.] Hippocrates, “whom nature made for the benefit of her favourite creature, man.”

v. 138. Four others.] “The commentators,” says Venturi; “suppose these four to be the four evangelists, but I should rather take them to be four principal doctors of the church.” Yet both Landino and Vellutello expressly call them the authors of the epistles, James, Peter, John and Jude.

v. 140. One single old man.] As some say, St. John, under his character of the author of the Apocalypse. But in the poem attributed to Giacopo, the son of our Poet, which in some MSS, accompanies the original of this work, and is descriptive of its plan, this old man is said to be Moses.

E’l vecchio, ch’ era dietro a tutti loro Fu Moyse.

And the old man, who was behind them all, Was Moses. See No. 3459 of the Harl. MSS. in the British Museum.

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Canto XXX

v. 1. The polar light.] The seven candlesticks.

v. 12. Come.] Song of Solomon, c. iv. 8.

v. 19. Blessed.] Matt. c. xxi. 9.

v. 20. From full hands.] Virg. Aen 1. vi. 884.

v. 97. The old flame.] Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae Virg. Aen. I. I. 23.

Conosco i segni dell’ antico fuoco. Giusto de’ Conti, La Bella Mano.

v. 61. Nor.] “Not all the beauties of the terrestrial Paradise; in which I was, were sufficient to allay my grief.”

v. 85. But.] They sang the thirty-first Psalm, to the end of the eighth verse.

v. 87. The living rafters.] The leafless woods on the Apennine.

v. 90. The land whereon no shadow falls.] “When the wind blows, from off Africa, where, at the time of the equinox, bodies being under the equator cast little or no shadow; or, in other words, when the wind is south.”

v. 98. The ice.] Milton has transferred this conceit, though scarcely worth the pains of removing, into one of his Italian poems, son.

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Canto XXXI

v. 3. With lateral edge.] The words of Beatrice, when not addressed directly to himself, but speaking to the angel of hell, Dante had thought sufficiently harsh.

v. 39. Counter to the edge.] “The weapons of divine justice are blunted by the confession and sorrow of the offender.”

v. 58. Bird.] Prov. c. i. 17

v. 69. From Iarbas’ land.] The south.

v. 71. The beard.] “I perceived, that when she desired me to raise my beard, instead of telling me to lift up my head, a severe reflection was implied on my want of that wisdom which should accompany the age of manhood.”

v. 98. Tu asperges me.] A prayer repeated by the priest at sprinkling the holy water.

v. 106. And in the heaven are stars.] See Canto I. 24.

v. 116. The emeralds.] The eyes of Beatrice.

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Canto XXXII

v. 2. Their ten years’ thirst.] Beatrice had been dead ten years.

v. 9. Two fix’d a gaze.] The allegorical interpretation of Vellutello whether it be considered as justly terrible from the text or not, conveys so useful a lesson, that it deserves our notice. “The understanding is sometimes so intently engaged in contemplating the light of divine truth in the scriptures, that it becomes dazzled, and is made less capable of attaining such knowledge, than if it had sought after it with greater moderation”

v. 39. Its tresses.] Daniel, c. iv. 10, &c.

v. 41. The Indians.] Quos oceano proprior gerit India lucos. Virg. Georg. 1. ii. 122, Such as at this day to Indians known. Milton, P. L. b. ix. 1102.

v. 51. When large floods of radiance.] When the sun enters into Aries, the constellation next to that of the Fish.

v. 63. Th’ unpitying eyes.] See Ovid, Met. 1. i. 689.

v. 74. The blossoming of that fair tree.] Our Saviour’s transfiguration.

v. 97. Those lights.] The tapers of gold.

v. 101. That true Rome.] Heaven.

v. 110. The bird of Jove.] This, which is imitated from Ezekiel, c. xvii. 3, 4. appears to be typical of the persecutions which the church sustained from the Roman Emperors.

v. 118. A fox.] By the fox perhaps is represented the treachery of the heretics.

v. 124. With his feathers lin’d.]. An allusion to the donations made by the Roman Emperors to the church.

v. 130. A dragon.] Probably Mahomet.

v. 136. With plumes.] The donations before mentioned.

v. 142. Heads.] By the seven heads, it is supposed with sufficient probability, are meant the seven capital sins, by the three with two horns, pride, anger, and avarice, injurious both to man himself and to his neighbor: by the four with one horn, gluttony, lukewarmness, concupiscence, and envy, hurtful, at least in their primary effects, chiefly to him who is guilty of them.

v. 146. O’er it.] The harlot is thought to represent the state of the church under Boniface VIII and the giant to figure Philip IV of France.

v. 155. Dragg’d on.] The removal of the Pope’s residence from Rome to Avignon is pointed at.

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Canto XXXIII

v. 1. The Heathen.] Psalm lxxix. 1.

v. 36. Hope not to scare God’s vengeance with a sop.] “Let not him who hath occasioned the destruction of the church, that vessel which the serpent brake, hope to appease the anger of the Deity by any outward acts of religious, or rather superstitious, ceremony, such as was that, in our poet’s time, performed by a murderer at Florence, who imagined himself secure from vengeance, if he ate a sop of bread in wine, upon the grave of the person murdered, within the space of nine days.”

v. 38. That eagle.] He prognosticates that the Emperor of Germany will not always continue to submit to the usurpations of the Pope, and foretells the coming of Henry VII Duke of Luxembourg signified by the numerical figures DVX; or, as Lombardi supposes, of Can Grande della Scala, appointed the leader of the Ghibelline forces. It is unnecessary to point out the imitation of the Apocalypse in the manner of this prophecy.

v. 50. The Naiads.] Dante, it is observed, has been led into a mistake by a corruption in the text of Ovid’s Metam. I. vii. 75, where he found- Carmina Naiades non intellecta priorum;

instead of Carmina Laiades, &c. as it has been since corrected. Lombardi refers to Pansanias, where “the Nymphs” are spoken of as expounders of oracles for a vindication of the poet’s accuracy. Should the reader blame me for not departing from the error of the original (if error it be), he may substitute

Events shall be the Oedipus will solve, &c.

v. 67. Elsa’s numbing waters.] The Elsa, a little stream, which flows into the Arno about twenty miles below Florence, is said to possess a petrifying quality.

v. 78. That one brings home his staff inwreath’d with palm.] “For the same cause that the pilgrim, returning from Palestine, brings home his staff, or bourdon, bound with palm,” that is, to show where he has been.

Che si reca ’I bordon di palma cinto.

“In regard to the word bourdon, why it has been applied to a pilgrim’s staff, it is not easy to guess. I believe, however that this name has been given to such sort of staves, because pilgrims usually travel and perform their pilgrimages on foot, their staves serving them instead of horses or mules, then called bourdons and burdones, by writers in the middle ages.” Mr. Johnes’s Translation of Joinville’s Memoirs. Dissertation xv, by M. du Cange p. 152. 4to. edit. The word is thrice used by Chaucer in the Romaunt of the Rose.

PARADISE

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Canto I

His glory, by whose might all things are mov’d, Pierces the universe, and in one part Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less. In heav’n, That largeliest of his light partakes, was I, Witness of things, which to relate again Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence; For that, so near approaching its desire Our intellect is to such depth absorb’d, That memory cannot follow. Nathless all, That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm Could store, shall now be matter of my song.

Benign Apollo! this last labour aid, And make me such a vessel of thy worth, As thy own laurel claims of me belov’d. Thus far hath one of steep Parnassus’ brows Suffic’d me; henceforth there is need of both For my remaining enterprise Do thou Enter into my bosom, and there breathe So, as when Marsyas by thy hand was dragg’d Forth from his limbs unsheath’d. O power divine! If thou to me of shine impart so much, That of that happy realm the shadow’d form Trac’d in my thoughts I may set forth to view, Thou shalt behold me of thy favour’d tree Come to the foot, and crown myself with leaves; For to that honour thou, and my high theme Will fit me. If but seldom, mighty Sire! To grace his triumph gathers thence a wreath Caesar or bard (more shame for human wills Deprav’d) joy to the Delphic god must spring From the Pierian foliage, when one breast Is with such thirst inspir’d. From a small spark Great flame hath risen: after me perchance Others with better voice may pray, and gain From the Cirrhaean city answer kind.

Through diver passages, the world’s bright lamp Rises to mortals, but through that which joins Four circles with the threefold cross, in best Course, and in happiest constellation set He comes, and to the worldly wax best gives Its temper and impression. Morning there, Here eve was by almost such passage made; And whiteness had o’erspread that hemisphere, Blackness the other part; when to the left I saw Beatrice turn’d, and on the sun Gazing, as never eagle fix’d his ken. As from the first a second beam is wont To issue, and reflected upwards rise, E’en as a pilgrim bent on his return, So of her act, that through the eyesight pass’d Into my fancy, mine was form’d; and straight, Beyond our mortal wont, I fix’d mine eyes Upon the sun. Much is allowed us there, That here exceeds our pow’r; thanks to the place Made for the dwelling of the human kind

I suffer’d it not long, and yet so long That I beheld it bick’ring sparks around, As iron that comes boiling from the fire. And suddenly upon the day appear’d A day new-ris’n, as he, who hath the power, Had with another sun bedeck’d the sky.

Her eyes fast fix’d on the eternal wheels, Beatrice stood unmov’d; and I with ken Fix’d upon her, from upward gaze remov’d At her aspect, such inwardly became As Glaucus, when he tasted of the herb, That made him peer among the ocean gods; Words may not tell of that transhuman change: And therefore let the example serve, though weak, For those whom grace hath better proof in store

If I were only what thou didst create, Then newly, Love! by whom the heav’n is rul’d, Thou know’st, who by thy light didst bear me up. Whenas the wheel which thou dost ever guide, Desired Spirit! with its harmony Temper’d of thee and measur’d, charm’d mine ear, Then seem’d to me so much of heav’n to blaze With the sun’s flame, that rain or flood ne’er made A lake so broad. The newness of the sound, And that great light, inflam’d me with desire, Keener than e’er was felt, to know their cause.

Whence she who saw me, clearly as myself, To calm my troubled mind, before I ask’d, Open’d her lips, and gracious thus began: “With false imagination thou thyself Mak’st dull, so that thou seest not the thing, Which thou hadst seen, had that been shaken off. Thou art not on the earth as thou believ’st; For light’ning scap’d from its own proper place Ne’er ran, as thou hast hither now return’d.”

Although divested of my first-rais’d doubt, By those brief words, accompanied with smiles, Yet in new doubt was I entangled more, And said: “Already satisfied, I rest From admiration deep, but now admire How I above those lighter bodies rise.”

Whence, after utt’rance of a piteous sigh, She tow’rds me bent her eyes, with such a look, As on her frenzied child a mother casts; Then thus began: “Among themselves all things Have order; and from hence the form, which makes The universe resemble God. In this The higher creatures see the printed steps Of that eternal worth, which is the end Whither the line is drawn. All natures lean, In this their order, diversely, some more, Some less approaching to their primal source. Thus they to different havens are mov’d on Through the vast sea of being, and each one With instinct giv’n, that bears it in its course; This to the lunar sphere directs the fire, This prompts the hearts of mortal animals, This the brute earth together knits, and binds. Nor only creatures, void of intellect, Are aim’d at by this bow; hut even those, That have intelligence and love, are pierc’d. That Providence, who so well orders all, With her own light makes ever calm the heaven, In which the substance, that hath greatest speed, Is turn’d: and thither now, as to our seat Predestin’d, we are carried by the force Of that strong cord, that never looses dart, But at fair aim and glad. Yet is it true, That as ofttimes but ill accords the form To the design of art, through sluggishness Of unreplying matter, so this course Is sometimes quitted by the creature, who Hath power, directed thus, to bend elsewhere; As from a cloud the fire is seen to fall, From its original impulse warp’d, to earth, By vicious fondness. Thou no more admire Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem,) than lapse Of torrent downwards from a mountain’s height. There would in thee for wonder be more cause, If, free of hind’rance, thou hadst fix’d thyself Below, like fire unmoving on the earth.”

So said, she turn’d toward the heav’n her face.

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Canto II

All ye, who in small bark have following sail’d, Eager to listen, on the advent’rous track Of my proud keel, that singing cuts its way, Backward return with speed, and your own shores Revisit, nor put out to open sea, Where losing me, perchance ye may remain Bewilder’d in deep maze. The way I pass Ne’er yet was run: Minerva breathes the gale, Apollo guides me, and another Nine To my rapt sight the arctic beams reveal. Ye other few, who have outstretch’d the neck. Timely for food of angels, on which here They live, yet never know satiety, Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out Your vessel, marking, well the furrow broad Before you in the wave, that on both sides Equal returns. Those, glorious, who pass’d o’er To Colchos, wonder’d not as ye will do, When they saw Jason following the plough.

The increate perpetual thirst, that draws Toward the realm of God’s own form, bore us Swift almost as the heaven ye behold.

Beatrice upward gaz’d, and I on her, And in such space as on the notch a dart Is plac’d, then loosen’d flies, I saw myself Arriv’d, where wond’rous thing engag’d my sight. Whence she, to whom no work of mine was hid, Turning to me, with aspect glad as fair, Bespake me: “Gratefully direct thy mind To God, through whom to this first star we come.”

Me seem’d as if a cloud had cover’d us, Translucent, solid, firm, and polish’d bright, Like adamant, which the sun’s beam had smit Within itself the ever-during pearl Receiv’d us, as the wave a ray of light Receives, and rests unbroken. If I then Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus Another could endure, which needs must be If body enter body, how much more Must the desire inflame us to behold That essence, which discovers by what means God and our nature join’d! There will be seen That which we hold through faith, not shown by proof, But in itself intelligibly plain, E’en as the truth that man at first believes.

I answered: “Lady! I with thoughts devout, Such as I best can frame, give thanks to Him, Who hath remov’d me from the mortal world. But tell, I pray thee, whence the gloomy spots Upon this body, which below on earth Give rise to talk of Cain in fabling quaint?”

She somewhat smil’d, then spake: “If mortals err In their opinion, when the key of sense Unlocks not, surely wonder’s weapon keen Ought not to pierce thee; since thou find’st, the wings Of reason to pursue the senses’ flight Are short. But what thy own thought is, declare.”

Then I: “What various here above appears, Is caus’d, I deem, by bodies dense or rare.”

She then resum’d: “Thou certainly wilt see In falsehood thy belief o’erwhelm’d, if well Thou listen to the arguments, which I Shall bring to face it. The eighth sphere displays Numberless lights, the which in kind and size May be remark’d of different aspects; If rare or dense of that were cause alone, One single virtue then would be in all, Alike distributed, or more, or less. Different virtues needs must be the fruits Of formal principles, and these, save one, Will by thy reasoning be destroy’d. Beside, If rarity were of that dusk the cause, Which thou inquirest, either in some part That planet must throughout be void, nor fed With its own matter; or, as bodies share Their fat and leanness, in like manner this Must in its volume change the leaves. The first, If it were true, had through the sun’s eclipse Been manifested, by transparency Of light, as through aught rare beside effus’d. But this is not. Therefore remains to see The other cause: and if the other fall, Erroneous so must prove what seem’d to thee. If not from side to side this rarity Pass through, there needs must be a limit, whence Its contrary no further lets it pass. And hence the beam, that from without proceeds, Must be pour’d back, as colour comes, through glass Reflected, which behind it lead conceals. Now wilt thou say, that there of murkier hue Than in the other part the ray is shown, By being thence refracted farther back. From this perplexity will free thee soon Experience, if thereof thou trial make, The fountain whence your arts derive their streame. Three mirrors shalt thou take, and two remove From thee alike, and more remote the third. Betwixt the former pair, shall meet thine eyes; Then turn’d toward them, cause behind thy back A light to stand, that on the three shall shine, And thus reflected come to thee from all. Though that beheld most distant do not stretch A space so ample, yet in brightness thou Will own it equaling the rest. But now, As under snow the ground, if the warm ray Smites it, remains dismantled of the hue And cold, that cover’d it before, so thee, Dismantled in thy mind, I will inform With light so lively, that the tremulous beam Shall quiver where it falls. Within the heaven, Where peace divine inhabits, circles round A body, in whose virtue dies the being Of all that it contains. The following heaven, That hath so many lights, this being divides, Through different essences, from it distinct, And yet contain’d within it. The other orbs Their separate distinctions variously Dispose, for their own seed and produce apt. Thus do these organs of the world proceed, As thou beholdest now, from step to step, Their influences from above deriving, And thence transmitting downwards. Mark me well, How through this passage to the truth I ford, The truth thou lov’st, that thou henceforth alone, May’st know to keep the shallows, safe, untold.

“The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs, As mallet by the workman’s hand, must needs By blessed movers be inspir’d. This heaven, Made beauteous by so many luminaries, From the deep spirit, that moves its circling sphere, Its image takes an impress as a seal: And as the soul, that dwells within your dust, Through members different, yet together form’d, In different pow’rs resolves itself; e’en so The intellectual efficacy unfolds Its goodness multiplied throughout the stars; On its own unity revolving still. Different virtue compact different Makes with the precious body it enlivens, With which it knits, as life in you is knit. From its original nature full of joy, The virtue mingled through the body shines, As joy through pupil of the living eye. From hence proceeds, that which from light to light Seems different, and not from dense or rare. This is the formal cause, that generates Proportion’d to its power, the dusk or clear.”

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Canto III

That sun, which erst with love my bosom warm’d Had of fair truth unveil’d the sweet aspect, By proof of right, and of the false reproof; And I, to own myself convinc’d and free Of doubt, as much as needed, rais’d my head Erect for speech. But soon a sight appear’d, Which, so intent to mark it, held me fix’d, That of confession I no longer thought.

As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave Clear and unmov’d, and flowing not so deep As that its bed is dark, the shape returns So faint of our impictur’d lineaments, That on white forehead set a pearl as strong Comes to the eye: such saw I many a face, All stretch’d to speak, from whence I straight conceiv’d Delusion opposite to that, which rais’d Between the man and fountain, amorous flame.

Sudden, as I perceiv’d them, deeming these Reflected semblances to see of whom They were, I turn’d mine eyes, and nothing saw; Then turn’d them back, directed on the light Of my sweet guide, who smiling shot forth beams From her celestial eyes. “Wonder not thou,” She cry’d, “at this my smiling, when I see Thy childish judgment; since not yet on truth It rests the foot, but, as it still is wont, Makes thee fall back in unsound vacancy. True substances are these, which thou behold’st, Hither through failure of their vow exil’d. But speak thou with them; listen, and believe, That the true light, which fills them with desire, Permits not from its beams their feet to stray.”

Straight to the shadow which for converse seem’d Most earnest, I addressed me, and began, As one by over-eagerness perplex’d: “O spirit, born for joy! who in the rays Of life eternal, of that sweetness know’st The flavour, which, not tasted, passes far All apprehension, me it well would please, If thou wouldst tell me of thy name, and this Your station here.” Whence she, with kindness prompt, And eyes glist’ning with smiles: “Our charity, To any wish by justice introduc’d, Bars not the door, no more than she above, Who would have all her court be like herself. I was a virgin sister in the earth; And if thy mind observe me well, this form, With such addition grac’d of loveliness, Will not conceal me long, but thou wilt know Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus plac’d, Here ’mid these other blessed also blest. Our hearts, whose high affections burn alone With pleasure, from the Holy Spirit conceiv’d, Admitted to his order dwell in joy. And this condition, which appears so low, Is for this cause assign’d us, that our vows Were in some part neglected and made void.”

Whence I to her replied: “Something divine Beams in your countenance, wond’rous fair, From former knowledge quite transmuting you. Therefore to recollect was I so slow. But what thou sayst hath to my memory Given now such aid, that to retrace your forms Is easier. Yet inform me, ye, who here Are happy, long ye for a higher place More to behold, and more in love to dwell?”

She with those other spirits gently smil’d, Then answer’d with such gladness, that she seem’d With love’s first flame to glow: “Brother! our will Is in composure settled by the power Of charity, who makes us will alone What we possess, and nought beyond desire; If we should wish to be exalted more, Then must our wishes jar with the high will Of him, who sets us here, which in these orbs Thou wilt confess not possible, if here To be in charity must needs befall, And if her nature well thou contemplate. Rather it is inherent in this state Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within The divine will, by which our wills with his Are one. So that as we from step to step Are plac’d throughout this kingdom, pleases all, E’en as our King, who in us plants his will; And in his will is our tranquillity; It is the mighty ocean, whither tends Whatever it creates and nature makes.”

Then saw I clearly how each spot in heav’n Is Paradise, though with like gracious dew The supreme virtue show’r not over all.

But as it chances, if one sort of food Hath satiated, and of another still The appetite remains, that this is ask’d, And thanks for that return’d; e’en so did I In word and motion, bent from her to learn What web it was, through which she had not drawn The shuttle to its point. She thus began: “Exalted worth and perfectness of life The Lady higher up enshrine in heaven, By whose pure laws upon your nether earth The robe and veil they wear, to that intent, That e’en till death they may keep watch or sleep With their great bridegroom, who accepts each vow, Which to his gracious pleasure love conforms. from the world, to follow her, when young Escap’d; and, in her vesture mantling me, Made promise of the way her sect enjoins. Thereafter men, for ill than good more apt, Forth snatch’d me from the pleasant cloister’s pale. God knows how after that my life was fram’d. This other splendid shape, which thou beholdst At my right side, burning with all the light Of this our orb, what of myself I tell May to herself apply. From her, like me A sister, with like violence were torn The saintly folds, that shaded her fair brows. E’en when she to the world again was brought In spite of her own will and better wont, Yet not for that the bosom’s inward veil Did she renounce. This is the luminary Of mighty Constance, who from that loud blast, Which blew the second over Suabia’s realm, That power produc’d, which was the third and last.”

She ceas’d from further talk, and then began “Ave Maria” singing, and with that song Vanish’d, as heavy substance through deep wave.

Mine eye, that far as it was capable, Pursued her, when in dimness she was lost, Turn’d to the mark where greater want impell’d, And bent on Beatrice all its gaze. But she as light’ning beam’d upon my looks: So that the sight sustain’d it not at first. Whence I to question her became less prompt.

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