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 many a pair extoll'd, Who lived 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.
ARGUMENT. The spirits wonder at seeing the shadow cast by the body of Dante on the flame as he passes it. This moves one of them to address him. It proves to be Guido Guinicelli, the Italian poet, who points out to him the spirit of Arnault Daniel, the Provençal, with whom he also speaks.
HILE singly thus along the rim we walk'd,
Oft the good master warn'd me: "Look thou Avail it that I caution thee." The sun [well. Now all the western clime irradiate changed 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 tow'rd me, careful not to overpass The burning pale. "O thou! who followest The others, haply not more slow than they, But moved by reverence; answer me, who burn In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these
All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth Indian or Æthiop for the cooling stream. Tell us, how is it that thou makest thyself
A wall against the sun, as thou not yet
Into the inextricable toils of death
Hadst enter'd?" Thus spake one; and I had straight
Declared 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, severally 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 despatch
Of the first onward step, from either tribe Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come, Shout "Sodom and Gomorrah!" these, "The cow Pasiphaë enter'd, that the beast she woo'd Might rush unto her luxury." Then as cranes, That part toward the Riphæan mountains fly, Part toward the Lybic sands, these to avoid The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off One crowd, advances the 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 wins 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 pass'd 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 resumed: "O blessed! who, for death preparing, takest Experience of our limits, in thy bark;
Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that For which, as he did triumph, Cæsar heard
The shout 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 gazed From sad Lycurgus' rescued; such my joy (Save that I more repress'd it) when I heard From his own lips the name of him pronounced, Who was a father to me, and to those
My betters, who have ever used the sweet
And pleasant rhymes of love. So naught I heard, Nor spake; but long time thoughtfully I went, Gazing on him; and, only for the fire,
Approached 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
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.
He thus bespake me: "What from thee I hear Is graved 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 traced them.” "Brother!" he cried, and pointed at the 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,
Dante and Petrarch place Arnault Daniel first among Provençal poets.
8 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 favor with the monarchs of Castile, Leon, Navarre, and Arragon.
4 Arnault is here made to speak in his own tongue, the Provençal.
Sorely waymenting 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 sufferings." With such words He disappear'd in the refining flame.
Argument.—An Angel sends them forward through the fire to the last ascent, which leads to the terrestrial Paradise, situated on the summit of the mountain. They have not proceeded many steps on their way upward, when the fall of night hinders them from going further; and our Poet, who has lain down with Virgil and Statius to rest, beholds in a dream two females, figuring the active and contemplative life. With the return of morning, they reach the height; and here Virgil gives Dante full liberty to use his own pleasure and judgment in the choice of his way, till he shall meet with Beatrice.
OW was the sun1 so station'd, as when first
His early radiance quivers on the heights, Where stream'd his Maker's blood; while Libra
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, "Blessed2 are the pure In heart," he sang: then near him as we came, 66 Go ye not further, holy pirits!" 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 conjured up the forms Erewhile beheld alive consumed in flames.
"The sun." At Jerusalem it was dia noonday, in Purgatory sunset.
dawn, in Spain midnight, and in In2" Blessed."-Matt. v. 8.
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