The Divine Comedy. Данте Алигьери

by this path homeward he leads me back.”

      “If thou,” he answer'd, “follow but thy star,

      Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven:

      Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd.

      And if my fate so early had not chanc'd,

      Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I

      Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work.

      But that ungrateful and malignant race,

      Who in old times came down from Fesole,

      Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint,

      Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity.

      Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs

      It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit.

      Old fame reports them in the world for blind,

      Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well:

      Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee

      Thy fortune hath such honour in reserve,

      That thou by either party shalt be crav'd

      With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far

      From the goat's tooth. The herd of Fesole

      May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant,

      If any such yet spring on their rank bed,

      In which the holy seed revives, transmitted

      From those true Romans, who still there remain'd,

      When it was made the nest of so much ill.”

      “Were all my wish fulfill'd,” I straight replied,

      “Thou from the confines of man's nature yet

      Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind

      Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart

      The dear, benign, paternal image, such

      As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me

      The way for man to win eternity;

      And how I priz'd the lesson, it behooves,

      That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak,

      What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down:

      And with another text to comment on

      For her I keep it, the celestial dame,

      Who will know all, if I to her arrive.

      This only would I have thee clearly note:

      That so my conscience have no plea against me;

      Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar'd.

      Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear.

      Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best,

      The clown his mattock; all things have their course.”

      Thereat my sapient guide upon his right

      Turn'd himself back, then look'd at me and spake:

      “He listens to good purpose who takes note.”

      I not the less still on my way proceed,

      Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire

      Who are most known and chief among his tribe.

      “To know of some is well;” thus he replied,

      “But of the rest silence may best beseem.

      Time would not serve us for report so long.

      In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks,

      Men of great learning and no less renown,

      By one same sin polluted in the world.

      With them is Priscian, and Accorso's son

      Francesco herds among that wretched throng:

      And, if the wish of so impure a blotch

      Possess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen,

      Who by the servants' servant was transferr'd

      From Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, where

      His ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add,

      But must from farther speech and onward way

      Alike desist, for yonder I behold

      A mist new-risen on the sandy plain.

      A company, with whom I may not sort,

      Approaches. I commend my TREASURE to thee,

      Wherein I yet survive; my sole request.”

      This said he turn'd, and seem'd as one of those,

      Who o'er Verona's champain try their speed

      For the green mantle, and of them he seem'd,

      Not he who loses but who gains the prize.

      Canto XVI

      Now came I where the water's din was heard,

      As down it fell into the other round,

      Resounding like the hum of swarming bees:

      When forth together issu'd from a troop,

      That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm,

      Three spirits, running swift. They towards us came,

      And each one cried aloud, “Oh do thou stay!

      Whom by the fashion of thy garb we deem

      To be some inmate of our evil land.”

      Ah me! what wounds I mark'd upon their limbs,

      Recent and old, inflicted by the flames!

      E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet.

      Attentive to their cry my teacher paus'd,

      And turn'd to me his visage, and then spake;

      “Wait now! our courtesy these merit well:

      And were 't not for the nature of the place,

      Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said,

      That haste had better suited thee than them.”

      They, when we stopp'd, resum'd their ancient wail,

      And soon as they had reach'd us, all the three

      Whirl'd round together in one restless wheel.

      As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oil,

      Are wont intent to watch their place of hold

      And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet;

      Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenance

      At me directed, so that opposite

      The neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet.

      “If misery of this drear wilderness,”

      Thus one began, “added to our sad cheer

      And destitute, do call forth scorn on us

      And our entreaties, let our great renown

      Incline thee to inform us who thou art,

      That dost imprint with living feet unharm'd

      The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see'st

      My steps pursuing, naked though he be

      And reft of all, was of more high estate

      Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste

      Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd,

      Who in his lifetime many a noble act

      Achiev'd, both by his wisdom and his