Onward I mov'd: he also onward mov'd, Who led me, coasting still, wherever place Along the rock was vacant, as a man Walks near the battlements on narrow wall.

For those on th' other part, who drop by drop Wring out their all-infecting malady, Too closely press the verge. Accurst be thou!

Inveterate wolf! whose gorge ingluts more prey, Than every beast beside, yet is not fill'd!

So bottomless thy maw!--Ye spheres of heaven!

To whom there are, as seems, who attribute All change in mortal state, when is the day Of his appearing, for whom fate reserves To chase her hence?--With wary steps and slow We pa.s.s'd; and I attentive to the shades, Whom piteously I heard lament and wail;

And, 'midst the wailing, one before us heard Cry out "O blessed Virgin!" as a dame In the sharp pangs of childbed; and "How poor Thou wast," it added, "witness that low roof Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.

O good Fabricius! thou didst virtue choose With poverty, before great wealth with vice."

The words so pleas'd me, that desire to know The spirit, from whose lip they seem'd to come, Did draw me onward. Yet it spake the gift Of Nicholas, which on the maidens he Bounteous bestow'd, to save their youthful prime Unblemish'd. "Spirit! who dost speak of deeds So worthy, tell me who thou was," I said, "And why thou dost with single voice renew Memorial of such praise. That boon vouchsaf'd Haply shall meet reward; if I return To finish the Short pilgrimage of life, Still speeding to its close on restless wing."

"I," answer'd he, "will tell thee, not for h.e.l.l, Which thence I look for; but that in thyself Grace so exceeding shines, before thy time Of mortal dissolution. I was root Of that ill plant, whose shade such poison sheds O'er all the Christian land, that seldom thence Good fruit is gather'd. Vengeance soon should come, Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power; And vengeance I of heav'n's great Judge implore.

Hugh Capet was I high: from me descend The Philips and the Louis, of whom France Newly is govern'd; born of one, who ply'd The slaughterer's trade at Paris. When the race Of ancient kings had vanish'd (all save one Wrapt up in sable weeds) within my gripe I found the reins of empire, and such powers Of new acquirement, with full store of friends, That soon the widow'd circlet of the crown Was girt upon the temples of my son, He, from whose bones th' anointed race begins.

Till the great dower of Provence had remov'd The stains, that yet obscur'd our lowly blood, Its sway indeed was narrow, but howe'er It wrought no evil: there, with force and lies, Began its rapine; after, for amends, Poitou it seiz'd, Navarre and Gascony.

To Italy came Charles, and for amends Young Conradine an innocent victim slew, And sent th' angelic teacher back to heav'n, Still for amends. I see the time at hand, That forth from France invites another Charles To make himself and kindred better known.

Unarm'd he issues, saving with that lance, Which the arch-traitor tilted with; and that He carries with so home a thrust, as rives The bowels of poor Florence. No increase Of territory hence, but sin and shame Shall be his guerdon, and so much the more As he more lightly deems of such foul wrong.

I see the other, who a prisoner late Had steps on sh.o.r.e, exposing to the mart His daughter, whom he bargains for, as do The Corsairs for their slaves. O avarice!

What canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood So wholly to thyself, they feel no care Of their own flesh? To hide with direr guilt Past ill and future, lo! the flower-de-luce Enters Alagna! in his Vicar Christ Himself a captive, and his mockery Acted again! Lo! to his holy lip The vinegar and gall once more applied!

And he 'twixt living robbers doom'd to bleed!

Lo! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty Such violence cannot fill the measure up, With no degree to sanction, pushes on Into the temple his yet eager sails!

"O sovran Master! when shall I rejoice To see the vengeance, which thy wrath well-pleas'd In secret silence broods?--While daylight lasts, So long what thou didst hear of her, sole spouse Of the Great Spirit, and on which thou turn'dst To me for comment, is the general theme Of all our prayers: but when it darkens, then A different strain we utter, then record Pygmalion, whom his gluttonous thirst of gold Made traitor, robber, parricide: the woes Of Midas, which his greedy wish ensued, Mark'd for derision to all future times: And the fond Achan, how he stole the prey, That yet he seems by Joshua's ire pursued.

Sapphira with her husband next, we blame; And praise the forefeet, that with furious ramp Spurn'd Heliodorus. All the mountain round Rings with the infamy of Thracia's king, Who slew his Phrygian charge: and last a shout Ascends: "Declare, O Cra.s.sus! for thou know'st, The flavour of thy gold." The voice of each Now high now low, as each his impulse prompts, Is led through many a pitch, acute or grave.

Therefore, not singly, I erewhile rehears'd That blessedness we tell of in the day: But near me none beside his accent rais'd."

From him we now had parted, and essay'd With utmost efforts to surmount the way, When I did feel, as nodding to its fall, The mountain tremble; whence an icy chill Seiz'd on me, as on one to death convey'd.

So shook not Delos, when Latona there Couch'd to bring forth the twin-born eyes of heaven.

Forthwith from every side a shout arose So vehement, that suddenly my guide Drew near, and cried: "Doubt not, while I conduct thee."

"Glory!" all shouted (such the sounds mine ear Gather'd from those, who near me swell'd the sounds) "Glory in the highest be to G.o.d." We stood Immovably suspended, like to those, The shepherds, who first heard in Bethlehem's field That song: till ceas'd the trembling, and the song Was ended: then our hallow'd path resum'd, Eying the prostrate shadows, who renew'd Their custom'd mourning. Never in my breast Did ignorance so struggle with desire Of knowledge, if my memory do not err, As in that moment; nor through haste dar'd I To question, nor myself could aught discern, So on I far'd in thoughtfulness and dread.

CANTO XXI

The natural thirst, ne'er quench'd but from the well, Whereof the woman of Samaria crav'd, Excited: haste along the c.u.mber'd path, After my guide, impell'd; and pity mov'd My bosom for the 'vengeful deed, though just.

When lo! even as Luke relates, that Christ Appear'd unto the two upon their way, New-risen from his vaulted grave; to us A shade appear'd, and after us approach'd, Contemplating the crowd beneath its feet.

We were not ware of it; so first it spake, Saying, "G.o.d give you peace, my brethren!" then Sudden we turn'd: and Virgil such salute, As fitted that kind greeting, gave, and cried: "Peace in the blessed council be thy lot Awarded by that righteous court, which me To everlasting banishment exiles!"

"How!" he exclaim'd, nor from his speed meanwhile Desisting, "If that ye be spirits, whom G.o.d Vouchsafes not room above, who up the height Has been thus far your guide?" To whom the bard: "If thou observe the tokens, which this man Trac'd by the finger of the angel bears, 'Tis plain that in the kingdom of the just He needs must share. But sithence she, whose wheel Spins day and night, for him not yet had drawn That yarn, which, on the fatal distaff pil'd, Clotho apportions to each wight that breathes, His soul, that sister is to mine and thine, Not of herself could mount, for not like ours Her ken: whence I, from forth the ample gulf Of h.e.l.l was ta'en, to lead him, and will lead Far as my lore avails. But, if thou know, Instruct us for what cause, the mount erewhile Thus shook and trembled: wherefore all at once Seem'd shouting, even from his wave-wash'd foot."

That questioning so tallied with my wish, The thirst did feel abatement of its edge E'en from expectance. He forthwith replied, "In its devotion nought irregular This mount can witness, or by punctual rule Unsanction'd; here from every change exempt.

Other than that, which heaven in itself Doth of itself receive, no influence Can reach us. Tempest none, shower, hail or snow, h.o.a.r frost or dewy moistness, higher falls Than that brief scale of threefold steps: thick clouds Nor scudding rack are ever seen: swift glance Ne'er lightens, nor Thaumantian Iris gleams, That yonder often shift on each side heav'n.

Vapour adust doth never mount above The highest of the trinal stairs, whereon Peter's vicegerent stands. Lower perchance, With various motion rock'd, trembles the soil: But here, through wind in earth's deep hollow pent, I know not how, yet never trembled: then Trembles, when any spirit feels itself So purified, that it may rise, or move For rising, and such loud acclaim ensues.

Purification by the will alone Is prov'd, that free to change society Seizes the soul rejoicing in her will.

Desire of bliss is present from the first; But strong propension hinders, to that wish By the just ordinance of heav'n oppos'd; Propension now as eager to fulfil Th' allotted torment, as erewhile to sin.

And I who in this punishment had lain Five hundred years and more, but now have felt Free wish for happier clime. Therefore thou felt'st The mountain tremble, and the spirits devout Heard'st, over all his limits, utter praise To that liege Lord, whom I entreat their joy To hasten." Thus he spake: and since the draught Is grateful ever as the thirst is keen, No words may speak my fullness of content.

"Now," said the instructor sage, "I see the net That takes ye here, and how the toils are loos'd, Why rocks the mountain and why ye rejoice.

Vouchsafe, that from thy lips I next may learn, Who on the earth thou wast, and wherefore here So many an age wert prostrate."--"In that time, When the good t.i.tus, with Heav'n's King to help, Aveng'd those piteous gashes, whence the blood By Judas sold did issue, with the name Most lasting and most honour'd there was I Abundantly renown'd," the shade reply'd, "Not yet with faith endued. So pa.s.sing sweet My vocal Spirit, from Tolosa, Rome To herself drew me, where I merited A myrtle garland to inwreathe my brow.

Statius they name me still. Of Thebes I sang, And next of great Achilles: but i' th' way Fell with the second burthen. Of my flame Those sparkles were the seeds, which I deriv'd From the bright fountain of celestial fire That feeds unnumber'd lamps, the song I mean Which sounds Aeneas' wand'rings: that the breast I hung at, that the nurse, from whom my veins Drank inspiration: whose authority Was ever sacred with me. To have liv'd Coeval with the Mantuan, I would bide The revolution of another sun Beyond my stated years in banishment."

The Mantuan, when he heard him, turn'd to me, And holding silence: by his countenance Enjoin'd me silence but the power which wills, Bears not supreme control: laughter and tears Follow so closely on the pa.s.sion prompts them, They wait not for the motions of the will In natures most sincere. I did but smile, As one who winks; and thereupon the shade Broke off, and peer'd into mine eyes, where best Our looks interpret. "So to good event Mayst thou conduct such great emprize," he cried, "Say, why across thy visage beam'd, but now, The lightning of a smile!" On either part Now am I straiten'd; one conjures me speak, Th' other to silence binds me: whence a sigh I utter, and the sigh is heard. "Speak on;"

The teacher cried; "and do not fear to speak, But tell him what so earnestly he asks."

Whereon I thus: "Perchance, O ancient spirit!

Thou marvel'st at my smiling. There is room For yet more wonder. He who guides my ken On high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom Thou didst presume of men and G.o.ds to sing.

If other cause thou deem'dst for which I smil'd, Leave it as not the true one; and believe Those words, thou spak'st of him, indeed the cause."

Now down he bent t' embrace my teacher's feet; But he forbade him: "Brother! do it not: Thou art a shadow, and behold'st a shade."

He rising answer'd thus: "Now hast thou prov'd The force and ardour of the love I bear thee, When I forget we are but things of air, And as a substance treat an empty shade."

CANTO XXII

Now we had left the angel, who had turn'd To the sixth circle our ascending step, One gash from off my forehead raz'd: while they, Whose wishes tend to justice, shouted forth: "Blessed!" and ended with, "I thirst:" and I, More nimble than along the other straits, So journey'd, that, without the sense of toil, I follow'd upward the swift-footed shades; When Virgil thus began: "Let its pure flame From virtue flow, and love can never fail To warm another's bosom' so the light Shine manifestly forth. Hence from that hour, When 'mongst us in the purlieus of the deep, Came down the spirit of Aquinum's hard, Who told of thine affection, my good will Hath been for thee of quality as strong As ever link'd itself to one not seen.

Therefore these stairs will now seem short to me.

But tell me: and if too secure I loose The rein with a friend's license, as a friend Forgive me, and speak now as with a friend: How chanc'd it covetous desire could find Place in that bosom, 'midst such ample store Of wisdom, as thy zeal had treasur'd there?"

First somewhat mov'd to laughter by his words, Statius replied: "Each syllable of thine Is a dear pledge of love. Things oft appear That minister false matters to our doubts, When their true causes are remov'd from sight.

Thy question doth a.s.sure me, thou believ'st I was on earth a covetous man, perhaps Because thou found'st me in that circle plac'd.

Know then I was too wide of avarice: And e'en for that excess, thousands of moons Have wax'd and wan'd upon my sufferings.

And were it not that I with heedful care Noted where thou exclaim'st as if in ire With human nature, 'Why, thou cursed thirst Of gold! dost not with juster measure guide The appet.i.te of mortals?' I had met The fierce encounter of the voluble rock.

Then was I ware that with too ample wing The hands may haste to lavishment, and turn'd, As from my other evil, so from this In penitence. How many from their grave Shall with shorn locks arise, who living, aye And at life's last extreme, of this offence, Through ignorance, did not repent. And know, The fault which lies direct from any sin In level opposition, here With that Wastes its green rankness on one common heap.

Therefore if I have been with those, who wail Their avarice, to cleanse me, through reverse Of their transgression, such hath been my lot."

To whom the sovran of the pastoral song: "While thou didst sing that cruel warfare wag'd By the twin sorrow of Jocasta's womb, From thy discourse with Clio there, it seems As faith had not been shine: without the which Good deeds suffice not. And if so, what sun Rose on thee, or what candle pierc'd the dark That thou didst after see to hoist the sail, And follow, where the fisherman had led?"

He answering thus: "By thee conducted first, I enter'd the Parna.s.sian grots, and quaff'd Of the clear spring; illumin'd first by thee Open'd mine eyes to G.o.d. Thou didst, as one, Who, journeying through the darkness, hears a light Behind, that profits not himself, but makes His followers wise, when thou exclaimedst, 'Lo!

A renovated world! Justice return'd!

Times of primeval innocence restor'd!

And a new race descended from above!'

Poet and Christian both to thee I owed.

That thou mayst mark more clearly what I trace, My hand shall stretch forth to inform the lines With livelier colouring. Soon o'er all the world, By messengers from heav'n, the true belief Teem'd now prolific, and that word of thine Accordant, to the new instructors chim'd.

Induc'd by which agreement, I was wont Resort to them; and soon their sanct.i.ty So won upon me, that, Domitian's rage Pursuing them, I mix'd my tears with theirs, And, while on earth I stay'd, still succour'd them; And their most righteous customs made me scorn All sects besides. Before I led the Greeks In tuneful fiction, to the streams of Thebes, I was baptiz'd; but secretly, through fear, Remain'd a Christian, and conform'd long time To Pagan rites. Five centuries and more, T for that lukewarmness was fain to pace Round the fourth circle. Thou then, who hast rais'd The covering, which did hide such blessing from me, Whilst much of this ascent is yet to climb, Say, if thou know, where our old Terence bides, Caecilius, Plautus, Varro: if condemn'd They dwell, and in what province of the deep."

"These," said my guide, "with Persius and myself, And others many more, are with that Greek, Of mortals, the most cherish'd by the Nine, In the first ward of darkness. There ofttimes We of that mount hold converse, on whose top For aye our nurses live. We have the bard Of Pella, and the Teian, Agatho, Simonides, and many a Grecian else Ingarlanded with laurel. Of thy train Antigone is there, Deiphile, Argia, and as sorrowful as erst Ismene, and who show'd Langia's wave: Deidamia with her sisters there, And blind Tiresias' daughter, and the bride Sea-born of Peleus." Either poet now Was silent, and no longer by th' ascent Or the steep walls obstructed, round them cast Inquiring eyes. Four handmaids of the day Had finish'd now their office, and the fifth Was at the chariot-beam, directing still Its balmy point aloof, when thus my guide: "Methinks, it well behooves us to the brink Bend the right shoulder' circuiting the mount, As we have ever us'd." So custom there Was usher to the road, the which we chose Less doubtful, as that worthy shade complied.

They on before me went; I sole pursued, List'ning their speech, that to my thoughts convey'd Mysterious lessons of sweet poesy.

But soon they ceas'd; for midway of the road A tree we found, with goodly fruitage hung, And pleasant to the smell: and as a fir Upward from bough to bough less ample spreads, So downward this less ample spread, that none.

Methinks, aloft may climb. Upon the side, That clos'd our path, a liquid crystal fell From the steep rock, and through the sprays above Stream'd showering. With a.s.sociate step the bards Drew near the plant; and from amidst the leaves A voice was heard: "Ye shall be chary of me;"

And after added: "Mary took more thought For joy and honour of the nuptial feast, Than for herself who answers now for you.

The women of old Rome were satisfied With water for their beverage. Daniel fed On pulse, and wisdom gain'd. The primal age Was beautiful as gold; and hunger then Made acorns tasteful, thirst each rivulet Run nectar. Honey and locusts were the food, Whereon the Baptist in the wilderness Fed, and that eminence of glory reach'd And greatness, which the' Evangelist records."

CANTO XXIII