The Divine Comedy. Данте Алигьери

me, which e'en now revives,

      As my thought turns again to what I saw,

      And, more than I am wont, I rein and curb

      The powers of nature in me, lest they run

      Where Virtue guides not; that if aught of good

      My gentle star, or something better gave me,

      I envy not myself the precious boon.

      As in that season, when the sun least veils

      His face that lightens all, what time the fly

      Gives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant then

      Upon some cliff reclin'd, beneath him sees

      Fire-flies innumerous spangling o'er the vale,

      Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies:

      With flames so numberless throughout its space

      Shone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depth

      Was to my view expos'd. As he, whose wrongs

      The bears aveng'd, at its departure saw

      Elijah's chariot, when the steeds erect

      Rais'd their steep flight for heav'n; his eyes meanwhile,

      Straining pursu'd them, till the flame alone

      Upsoaring like a misty speck he kenn'd;

      E'en thus along the gulf moves every flame,

      A sinner so enfolded close in each,

      That none exhibits token of the theft.

      Upon the bridge I forward bent to look,

      And grasp'd a flinty mass, or else had fall'n,

      Though push'd not from the height. The guide, who mark'd

      How I did gaze attentive, thus began:

      “Within these ardours are the spirits, each

      Swath'd in confining fire.” – “Master, thy word,”

      I answer'd, “hath assur'd me; yet I deem'd

      Already of the truth, already wish'd

      To ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comes

      So parted at the summit, as it seem'd

      Ascending from that funeral pile, where lay

      The Theban brothers?” He replied: “Within

      Ulysses there and Diomede endure

      Their penal tortures, thus to vengeance now

      Together hasting, as erewhile to wrath.

      These in the flame with ceaseless groans deplore

      The ambush of the horse, that open'd wide

      A portal for that goodly seed to pass,

      Which sow'd imperial Rome; nor less the guile

      Lament they, whence of her Achilles 'reft

      Deidamia yet in death complains.

      And there is rued the stratagem, that Troy

      Of her Palladium spoil'd.” – “If they have power

      Of utt'rance from within these sparks,” said I,

      “O master! think my prayer a thousand fold

      In repetition urg'd, that thou vouchsafe

      To pause, till here the horned flame arrive.

      See, how toward it with desire I bend.”

      He thus: “Thy prayer is worthy of much praise,

      And I accept it therefore: but do thou

      Thy tongue refrain: to question them be mine,

      For I divine thy wish: and they perchance,

      For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee.”

      When there the flame had come, where time and place

      Seem'd fitting to my guide, he thus began:

      “O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire!

      If living I of you did merit aught,

      Whate'er the measure were of that desert,

      When in the world my lofty strain I pour'd,

      Move ye not on, till one of you unfold

      In what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd.”

      Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn

      Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire

      That labours with the wind, then to and fro

      Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds,

      Threw out its voice, and spake: “When I escap'd

      From Circe, who beyond a circling year

      Had held me near Caieta, by her charms,

      Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the shore,

      Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence

      Of my old father, nor return of love,

      That should have crown'd Penelope with joy,

      Could overcome in me the zeal I had

      T' explore the world, and search the ways of life,

      Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sail'd

      Into the deep illimitable main,

      With but one bark, and the small faithful band

      That yet cleav'd to me. As Iberia far,

      Far as Morocco either shore I saw,

      And the Sardinian and each isle beside

      Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age

      Were I and my companions, when we came

      To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'd

      The bound'ries not to be o'erstepp'd by man.

      The walls of Seville to my right I left,

      On the other hand already Ceuta past.