Classic Poem

My lofty teacher now had ceased to speak,
And look'd at me intently, to perceive
If I of him would further knowledge seek.
And as his words a greater thirst did leave,
Silent without, within myself I said:
Perchance my too much asking doth him grieve.”
But this true father who my footsteps led,
And saw the timid wish within my mind,
Speaking, of speech much boldness in me bred;
Whence I: “My Master, in thy light I find
Mine eyes so strengthen'd that I clearly see
The things which by thy words are said or sign'd.
Therefore I pray, sweet father, that to me
Thou wouldst explain this love, from whence it seems
All good works come, and those which evil be.”
“Direct,” he said, “toward me the bright beams
Of thought; while unto thee the fault I prove
Of him, who, blind, himself a leader deems.
The soul which is created apt for love,
Soon as by joy awaken'd to discern,
Toward each pleasant thing doth quickly move;
And, rous'd within you, Fantasy doth learn
The pictured forms of all things to unfold,
So that unto themselves your hearts they turn.
And if, when moved to that which ye behold,
Your soul inclines toward it, such desire
Is love, which Nature doth within you hold.
Thus, as the flame still ever mounteth higher,
Because, as in its form is well exprest,
It must ascend unto the fount of fire;
Even so the soul by strong desire imprest,
(Which is a spiritual motion,) till it find
The thing which is belov'd, can take no rest.
Now mayst thou see, in sooth, how they are blind,
Who still aver that every loving bent
May be as good and laudable defined.
Perchance, the stuff whereof their love is blent
Is always good; but yet not every seal
Is good, although the wax be excellent.”
“Thy words to my attentive thought reveal,”
I said, “the nature with which love is fraught;
But now thereby a greater doubt I feel.
For, if affection from without be brought,
And with no other feet the soul may move,
In good or ill of merit there is nought.”
And he to me: “What reason may, I prove;
That which belongs to faith thou then shalt learn
When Beatrice descendeth from above.
Each form substantial (as thou mayst discern)
Distinct from matter, and therewith combined,
Hath special strength, that in itself is worn:
Which strength, except it work, ye cannot find,
Nor feel, nor show, unless by the effect;
As life is by a plant's green foliage sign'd.
Yet none can tell whence comes the intellect,
The dawn of earliest knowledge which ye see
And the first instincts that your hearts affect,
Dwelling in you, as in the honey-bee
Her studious labour; and this first intent
Alike from praise or blame is ever free.
Now, though to this all other thoughts were bent,
Innate in you is virtue which controls,
And ought to hold the bridle of assent.
This is the principle on which your souls
Meet for reward or punishment are found,
As your desire on good or evil falls.
Those who have search'd into the deep profound
Perceived this innate liberty of will;
Thus in the world their moral maxims sound.
But say that, of necessity, do fill
Your hearts the strong desires which in you flame;
Yet power is given you to restrain them still.
And noble virtue Beatrice doth name
Volition; see thou think'st thereon aright,
What time with her thou speak'st.” The moon-light came
More tardy, tow'rd the mid-hour of the night,
Most like a goblet that is all a-glow;
And made the stars shine forth with rarer light:
And 'gainst the sky did by that pathway go,
Lit by the sun, when those of Rome behold,
'Twixt Sards and Corsicans, it lying low.
And he by whom Pietola doth hold
A nobler name than e'er the Mantuan town,
From me my heavy burden had unroll'd.
For now the clearest light of reason shone
Upon the doubts which did my heart dismay,
And I remain'd as one on whom is thrown
A dreamy chain of slumber. But away
At once my sleep was chased by a vast crowd
Who follow'd us. As olden legends say,
Asopus and Ismenus heard the loud
And furious multitude rush past by night,
To celebrate the rites to Bacchus vow'd;
So those who now came forward in our sight
Were running with the eager steps of haste,
By righteous love and will impell'd aright.
Full soon our slower speed they overpast,
And swiftly that great multitude swept by;
And two cried out with tears, still hurrying fast:
“With haste did Mary to the mountain fly;
And the great Cæsar first Marseilles subdues,
Then quickly Lerida in Spain doth try.”
“Now speed we, speed, that we no time may lose
For lack of love,” the others then replied:
“Good study the green leaves of grace renews.”
“O ye in whom such fervour doth abide,
Whereby, perchance, your negligent delay
And lukewarmness in good is now supplied,
This man, who lives, (and I no falsehood say),
Would fain ascend when the first sunbeams break;
Then tell us where to find the upward way:”
These words to them did gentle Virgil speak.
“Now follow in our steps,” the Shades replied;
“And ye shall find the entrance which ye seek.
Within us such deep longing doth abide,
We may not stay; then pardon, if perchance
Our zeal seem to discourtesy allied.
I was the Abbot of St. Zeno once,
In fair Verona, 'neath the sway of him
Who hath made Milan weep her sore mischance,
The excellent Barbarossa. To the dim
And silent sepulchre descendeth one
Who soon shall mourn that e'er his hand hath come
Upon our convent, for his base-born son,
Deform'd in body, more deform'd in mind,
In the true pastor's place.” As he went on,
I know not if more words were on the wind
Dispersed; so far already had he sped:
But these within my memory did I bind,
And he who ever came unto mine aid,
Thus spake: “Now turn thee hither and behold
Two who do here reprove for sloth.” Then said
They, behind all the rest: “In days of old,
Those who pass'd through the waters died, before
Their heirs might see the land where Jordan roll'd.
And those who, weary of the toil they bore,
Slothful did from Anchises' son depart,
A life without or praise or glory wore.”
Now when they were from us so far apart
That they had wholly vanish'd from our sight,
New questionings arose within my heart,
New thoughts whereon my fancy did alight;
The which of such strange sweetness did I deem,
I closed my eyelids in a vague delight,
And all my thinking pass'd into a dream.