Then pushed the portals of the sacred door,

Exclaiming: "Enter; but I give you warning That forth returns whoever looks behind.". And when upon their hinges were turned round The swivels of that consecrated gate,

Which are of metal, massive and sonorous, Roared not so loud, nor so discordant seemed

Tarpeia, when was ta'en from it the good Metellus, wherefore meagre it remained. At the first thunder-peal I turned attentive,

And "Te Deum laudamus" seemed to hear In voices mingled with sweet melody. Exactly such an image rendered me

That which I heard, as we are wont to catch, When people singing with the organ stand; For now we hear, and now hear not, the words.

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CANTO X.

WHEN we had crossed the threshold of the door
Which the perverted love of souls disuses,

Because it makes the crooked way seem straight,
Re-echoing I heard it closed again;

And if I had turned back mine eyes upon it,
What for my failing had been fit excuse?
We mounted upward through a rifted rock,
Which undulated to this side and that,
Even as a wave receding and advancing.
"Here it behoves us use a little art,"

Began my Leader, "to adapt ourselves
Now here, now there, to the receding side."
And this our footsteps so infrequent made,

That sooner had the moon's decreasing disk
Regained its bed to sink again to rest,
Than we were forth from out that needle's eye;
But when we free and in the open were,
There where the mountain backward piles itself,

I wearied out, and both of us uncertain

About our way, we stopped upon a plain
More desolate than roads across the deserts.

From where its margin borders on the void,
To foot of the high bank that ever rises,

A human body three times told would measure

And far as eye of mine could wing its flight,
Now on the left, and on the right flank now,
The same this cornice did appear to me.
Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet,

When I perceived the embankment round about,
Which all right of ascent had interdicted,
To be of marble white, and so adorned

With sculptures, that not only Polycletus,

But Nature's self, had there been put to shame.
The Angel, who came down to earth with tidings

Of peace, that had been wept for many a year,
And opened Heaven from its long interdict,

In front of us appeared so truthfully

There sculptured in a gracious attitude,
He did not seem an image that is silent.

One would have sworn that he was saying, "Ave";
For she was there in effigy portrayed
Who turned the key to ope the exalted love,
And in her mien this language had impressed,
"Ecce ancilla Dei," as distinctly

As any figure stamps itself in wax.

"Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,"

The gentle Master said, who had me standing
Upon that side where people have their hearts;

Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheld

In rear of Mary, and upon that side
Where he was standing who conducted me,
Another story on the rock imposed;

Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near,
So that before mine eyes it might be set.
There sculptured in the self-same marble were
The cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark,
Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed.
People appeared in front, and all of them

In seven choirs divided, of two senses

Made one say "No," the other, "Yes, they sing." Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense,

Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and nose Were in the yes and no discordant made. Preceded there the vessel benedight,

Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist,
And more and less than King was he in this.
Opposite, represented at the window

Of a great palace, Michal looked upon him,
Even as a woman scornful and afflicted..

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I moved my feet from where I had been standing,

To examine near at hand another story,
Which after Michal glimmered white upon me.
There the high glory of the Roman Prince

Was chronicled, whose great beneficence
Moved Gregory to his great victory;
'Tis of the Emperor Trajan I am speaking;
And a poor widow at his bridle stood,
In attitude of weeping and of grief.
Around about him seemed it thronged and full
Of cavaliers, and the eagles in the gold
Above them visibly in the wind were moving.
The wretched woman in the midst of these

Seemed to be saying: "Give me vengeance, Lord,
For my dead son, for whom my heart is breaking."
And he to answer her: "Now wait until

I shall return." And she: "My Lord," like one
In whom grief is impatient, "shouldst thou not
Return? And he: "Who shall be where I am

Will give it thee." And she: "Good deed of others
What boots it thee, if thou neglect thine own?'
Whence he : "Now comfort thee, for it behoves me
That I discharge my duty ere I move;
Justice so wills, and pity doth retain me."

He who on no new thing has ever looked
Was the creator of this visible language,
Novel to us, for here it is not found.
While I delighted me in contemplating
The images of such humility,

And dear to look on for their Maker's sake, "Behold, upon this side, but rare they make

Their steps," the Poet murmured, "many people;
These will direct us to the lofty stairs."

Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent

To see new things, of which they curious are, In turning round towards him were not slow. But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve From thy good purposes, because thou hearest How God ordaineth that the debt be paid; Attend not to the fashion of the torment,

Think of what follows; think that at the worst
It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence.
"Master," began I, "that which I behold

Moving towards us seems to me not persons,
And what I know not, so in sight I waver."

And he to me: "The grievous quality

Of this their torment bows them so to earth,
That my own eyes at first contended with it;
But look there fixedly, and disentangle

By sight what cometh underneath those stones;
Already canst thou see how each is stricken."
O ye proud Christians! wretched, weary ones!
Who, in the vision of the mind infirm,
Confidence have in your backsliding steps,
Do ye not comprehend that we are worms,

Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly
That flieth unto judgment without screen?
Why floats aloft your spirit high in air?

Like are ye unto insects undeveloped,

Even as the worm in whom formation fails!

As to sustain a ceiling or a roof,

In place of corbel, oftentimes a figure Is seen to join its knees unto its breast, Which makes of the unreal real anguish

Arise in him who sees it; fashioned thus Beheld I those, when I had ta'en good heed. True is it, they were more or less bent down,

According as they more or less were laden ; And he who had most patience in his looks Weeping did seem to say, "I can no more!"

CANTO XI.

"OUR Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens,
Not circumscribed, but from the greater love
Thou bearest to the first effects on high,
Praised be thy name and thine omnipotence
By every creature, as befitting is

To render thanks to thy sweet effluence.
Come unto us the peace of thy dominion,
For unto it we cannot of ourselves,
If it come not, with all our intellect.
Even as thine own Angels of their will

Make sacrifice to thee, Hosanna singing.
So may all men make sacrifice of theirs.
Give unto us this day our daily manna,
Withouten which in this rough wilderness.
Backward goes he who toils most to advance.

L

And even as we the trespass we have suffered
Pardon in one another, pardon thou
Benignly, and regard not our desert.
Our virtue, which is easily o'ercome,

Put not to proof with the old Adversary,
But thou from him who spurs it So, deliver.
This last petition verily, dear Lord,

Not for ourselves is made, who need it not, But for their sake who have remained behind us." Thus for themselves and us good furtherance

Those shades imploring, went beneath a weight Like unto that of which we sometimes, dream, Unequally in anguish round and round

And weary all, upon that foremost cornice, Purging away the smoke-stains of the world. If there good words are always said for us,

What may not here be said and done for them, By those who have a good root to their will? Well may we help them wash away the marks

That hence they carried, so that clean and light They may ascend unto the starry wheels! "Ah! so may pity and justice you disburden

Soon, that ye may have power to move the wing, That shall uplift you after your desire, Show us on which hand tow'rd the stairs the way Is shortest, and if more than one the passes, Point us out that which least abruptly falls; For he who cometh with me, through the burden Of Adam's flesh wherewith he is invested, Against his will is chary of his climbing." The words of theirs which they returned to those That he whom I was following had spoken, It was not manifest from whom they came, But it was said: "To the right hand come with us Along the bank, and ye shall find a pass Possible for living person to ascend.

And were I not impeded by the stone,

Which this proud neck of mine doth subjugate, Whence I am forced to hold my visage down, Him, who still lives and does not name himself, Would I regard, to see if I may know him And make him piteous unto this burden. A Latian was I, and born of a great Tuscan ; Guglielmo Aldobrandeschi was my father; I know not if his name were ever with you.