Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;

Though from her brow the veil descending, bound

65

With foliage of Minerva, suffered not

That I beheld her clearly: then with act
Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall,
Added, as one who, speaking, keepeth back
The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am
Beatrice. What! and hast thou deigned at last
Approach the mountain? Knewest not, O man!
Thy happiness is here?"
Down fell mine eyes
On the clear fount; but there, myself espying,
Recoiled, and sought the greensward; such a weight
Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien
Of that stern majesty, which doth surround
A mother's presence to her awe-struck child,
She looked; a flavor of such bitterness
Was mingled in her pity. There her words
Brake off; and suddenly the angels sang,

"In thee, O gracious Lord! my hope hath been: "
But went no further than, "Thou, Lord! hast set

80

My feet in ample room." As snow, that lies,
Amidst the living rafters on the back

85

Of Italy, congealed, when drifted high

And closely piled by rough Sclavonian blasts;

Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,
And straightway melting it distils away,
Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,

90

Without a sigh or tear, or even these

Did sing, that, with the chiming of heaven's sphere,
Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain

Of dulcet symphony expressed for me

95

Their soft compassion, more than could the words,
"Virgin! why so consumest him?" then, the ice
Congealed about my bosom, turned itself
To spirit and water; and with anguish forth
Gushed, through the lips and eyelids, from the heart.
Upon the chariot's same edge still she stood,
Immovable; and thus addressed her words
To those bright semblances with pity touched:
"Ye in the eternal day your vigils keep;

So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,
Conveys from you a single step, in all

The goings on of time: thence, with more heed
I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,

Who there stands weeping; that the sorrow now
May equal the transgression. Not alone
Through operation of the mighty orbs,

That mark each seed to some predestined aim,
As with aspect or fortunate or ill

The constellations meet; but through benign

Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down

115

From such a height as mocks our vision, this man
Was, in the freshness of his being, such,
So gifted virtually, that in him

All better habits wonderously had thrived.
The more of kindly strength is in the soil,
So much doth evil seed and lack of culture
Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
These looks sometime upheld him; for I showed
My youthful eyes, and led him by their light
In upright walking. Soon as I had reached
The threshold of my second age, and changed
My mortal for immortal; then he left me,

120

125

And gave himself to others. When from flesh
To spirit I had risen, and increase

No promise perfect. Nor availed me aught
To sue for inspirations, with the which,

135

I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,

Did call him back; of them, so little recked him.

Beatrice continues her reprehension of Dante, who confesses his error, and falls to the ground: coming to himself again, he is by Matilda drawn through the waters of Lethe, and presented first to the four virgins who figure the cardinal virtues; these in their turn lead him to the griffon, a symbol of our Saviour; and the three virgins, representing the evangelical virtues, intercede for him with Beatrice, that she would display to him her second beauty.

"O THOU!" her words she thus without delay
Resuming, turned their point on me, to whom
They, with but lateral edge, seemed harsh before:
"Say thou, who stand'st beyond the holy stream,
If this be true. A charge, so grievous, needs
Thine own avowal." On my faculty

Such strange amazement hung, the voice expired
Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.

A little space refraining, then she spake :
"What dost thou muse on? Answer me.
On thy remembrances of evil yet
Hath done no injury." A mingled sense
Of fear and of confusion, from my lips
Did such a "Yea" produce, as needed help
Of vision to interpret. As when breaks,
In act to be discharged, a cross-bow bent

136. Cf. New Life, §§ 40, 43. 141. Limbo. See Hell, ii. 142. Virgil.

3. When Beatrice spoke to the angels concerning Dante's sins, her words seemed harsh enough, but now, when directed to him, they seemed more so.

The wave

5

10

15

7. Dante tried to speak, but his voice died out before it left his lips.

15. It was necessary to see his lips in order to interpret what he said.

16. The metaphor drawn of bow and arrow for speaking is frequent in the Divine Comedy.

Beyond its pitch, both nerve and bow o'erstretched;
The flagging weapon feebly hits the mark:
Thus, tears and sighs forth gushing, did I burst,
Beneath the heavy load: and thus my voice
Was slackened on its way. She straight began:
"When my desire invited thee to love
The good, which sets a bound to our aspirings;
What bar of thwarting foss or linked chain

Did meet thee, that thou so shouldst quit the hope
Of further progress? or what bait of ease,
Or promise of allurement, led thee on

Elsewhere, that thou elsewhere shouldst rather wait?”
A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice
To answer; hardly to these sounds my lips
Gave utterance, wailing: "Thy fair looks withdrawn,
Things present, with deceitful pleasures, turned
My steps aside." She answering spake : "Hadst thou
Been silent, or denied what thou avow'st,
Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more; such eye
Observes it. But whene'er the sinner's cheek
Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears
Of self-accusing, in our court the wheel

20

25

30

35

Of justice doth run counter to the edge.

Howe'er, that thou mayst profit by thy shame

40

For errors past, and that henceforth more strength

May arm thee, when thou hear'st the Siren-voice:

Lay thou aside the motive to this grief,

And lend attentive ear, while I unfold

How opposite a way my buried flesh

45

Should have impelled thee. Never didst thou spy,

In art or nature, aught so passing sweet,

As were the limbs that in their beauteous frame

Enclosed me, and are scattered now in dust.

If sweetest thing thus failed thee with my death,
What, afterward, of mortal, should thy wish

50

Have tempted? When thou first hadst felt the dart
Of perishable things, in my departing

For better realms, thy wing thou shouldst have pruned

23. God, beyond whom our highest aspira- showed themselves, that thou shouldst walk

To follow me; and never stooped again,
To 'bide a second blow, for a slight girl,
Or other gaud as transient and as vain.
The new and inexperienced bird awaits,
Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler's aim;
But in the sight of one whose plumes are full,
In vain the net is spread, the arrow winged."

I stood, as children silent and ashamed
Stand, listening, with their eyes upon the earth,
Acknowledging their fault, and self-condemned.
And she resumed: "If, but to hear, thus pains thee;
Raise thou thy beard, and lo! what sight shall do."
With less reluctance yields a sturdy holm,

Rent from its fibres by a blast, that blows
From off the pole, or from Iarbas' land,
Than I at her behest my visage raised:
And thus the face denoting by the beard,

I marked the secret sting her words conveyed.
No sooner lifted I mine aspect up,

55

60

65

70

Than I perceived those primal creatures cease
Their flowery sprinkling; and mine eyes beheld
(Yet unassured and wavering in their view)
Beatrice; she, who towards the mystic shape,

75

That joins two natures in one form, had turned:

And, even under shadow of her veil,

80

And parted by the verdant rill that flowed
Between, in loveliness she seemed as much
Her former self surpassing, as on earth
All others she surpassed. Remorseful goads
Shot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more
Its love had late beguiled me, now the more
Was loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote
The bitter consciousness, that on the ground
O'erpowered I fell and what my state was then,

:

She knows, who was the cause. When now my strength
Flowed back, returning outward from the heart,

The lady, whom alone I first had seen,

I found above me. "Loose me not," she cried:

As to my neck into the stream; while she,

"Loose not thy hold:" and lo! had dragged me high

Still as she drew me after, swept along,

Swift as a shuttle, bounding o'er the wave.

The blessed shore approaching, then was heard

85

90

95

58. "Surely in vain the net is spread in the and his sins had not the excuse accorded to sight of any bird." Prov. i. 17.

69. North and south winds. Iarbas was King of Libya. When Dido fled to Africa (Iarbas' land), he sought for her hand. En. iv. 196 ff. 71. In using the word beard, Beatrice meant to say to Dante that he was no longer a child,

youth.