CANTO II.
Argument.
Dante hesitates; but hearing that Virgil has been sent by Beatrice, takes courage, and follows him.
A ND now the day departed, and the sky
Wore the dusk twilight hue that brings repose
To every living thing; and only I
To meet the perils of the way arose,
Striving that memory might not in vain
Retrace once more the path so full of woes.
O Muse, O lofty genius, aid my strain!
O Mem'ry, let thy greatness here be shown,
Thou who dost all my visions write again!
I said: " O Poet, who wouldst lead me on,
Look that my heart be high, that I may be
Strong to descend into the realms unknown.
Thou tellest of the sire of Sylvius; he
Went in the garment of this mortal life
Into the land of immortality.
But if the enemy of every strife
Was gracious, knowing all the purpose high
Of that with which his future fate was rife,
It is not strange unto the thoughtful eye;
Sire of the sacred sway of Rome, he well
Was thus decreed in the empyreal sky.
And Rome and all her empire, truth to tell,
Was stablishid for the most holy place,
Where the successors of St. Peter dwell;
And in the journey whence he won thy praise
He heard what caused him vict'ry's wreath to wear,
And did on high the papal mantle raise.
Another chosen. One to heavenly air
Ascended to bring comfort to the faith
That first salvation's pathway doth prepare.
But who unbars to me the gate of death?
Eneas I am not; not Paul am I;
I know myself unworthy, and the breath
Of others deems me so; and if I try
The path, I fear some evil will befal:
Thou who art wise, more clearly will descry
My meaning. " And like him who turns from all
He wish'd, his purpose changing with new thought,
Which him from his intention doth recal,
Thus did I in this dark and doleful spot;
For thinking, still the courage pass'd away,
That at the first was with such gladness fraught.
" If I have heard aright what thou dost say, "
Replied the spirit of the mighty dead,
" Weak cowardice upon thy soul doth weigh;
Which many times, indeed, makes man afraid,
And turns him backward from each high emprise,
Imagining wild beasts in twilight shade.
And of those doubts that I may clear thine eyes,
I tell thee why I came, and what befel
When first I thought of thee in pitying guise.
I was with those who rest 'twixt Heaven and Hell:
A lady call'd me, beautiful and bright;
I hasten'd to obey her gentle spell.
Her eyes were glistening with a starry light;
She in a low melodious voice began
Softly to speak, even as an angel might:
" O spirit of the courteous Mantuan,
Whose glory still doth in the world resound,
And shall until time's latest moments run,
My friend, but sooth not fortune's friend, is found
On a lone desert bank, where, hinder'd sore,
He would return again to the dark bound.
I fear he may have wander'd far, before
My tardy succour unto him can reach,
From what I hear, on the celestial shore.
Now quickly go, that so thou mayest teach
Him to escape from out the valley low,
And rightly guide him with thy silver speech.
For I am Beatrice, who bids thee go;
And back to my bright dwelling would I fain:
Love moved me unto thee this thing to show.
When I shall be before my Lord again,
Of thee I oft will speak in words of praise."
I answer'd then, when silent was her strain:
" O lady of high virtue, which doth raise
The human species over all the rest
Enclosed within the heavenly circle's maze
So pleasant unto me is thy behest,
That had I now obey'd, it were too slow;
No further need thy wishes be exprest.
But tell me, why hast thou no fear to go,
From the fair home whereto thou wouldst return,
Into this centre of the gulf below?"
" Since of this matter thou wouldst somewhat learn,"
She answer'd, " briefly I will tell thee why
I do not fear to come within this bourne.
Ye should have terror but of things whereby
Is work'd some evil, or another's woe;
And of nought else: therein no hurt doth lie.
By God's great mercy, he hath made me so
That all your misery hath no power on me,
Nor am I harm'd within the fiery glow.
In Heaven, a gentle lady weeps to see
The 'wilder'd One to whom thou shalt be guide;
And thus hard justice broken there may be.
This lady called Lucia to her side
And said: " Now hath thy true disciple need
Of thee, and to thy care I him confide. "
And she, unfriendly to each cruel deed,
Arose and came to me, unto the place
Where I with Rachel sat. Lucia said:
" O Beatrice, who art of God true praise,
Why dost not succour him who loved thee so,
Who for thy sake came forth from common ways?
Dost thou not hear the wailing of his woe?
Dost thou not see him, striving in the fight,
Where the wild stream as stormy sea doth show? "
Never was living thing so swift in flight,
To 'scape from ill and to attain to good,
As I, at her discourse, on footsteps light,
Descended hither from my blest abode;
Trusting, in sooth, unto thy lovely speech,
That gladdens all who near to thee have stood."
And as the gentle lady did beseech
She turned her tearful shining eyes on me,
So that I strove with quicker step to reach
The place where she had bade me succour thee,
And took thee from before the savage beast
Which thou upon the mountain path didst see.
Then wherefore in this valley wouldst thou rest?
Why dost thou such a coward aspect wear?
Why dwells no hope or boldness in thy breast,
Since now three Blessid Ones of thee have care,
On high, amid the radiant heavenly host,
And since my speech such promises doth bear? "
As close the flow'rets in the midnight frost,
But ope their leaves, whene'er the sunshine bright
Comes forth, their drooping blossoms to accost,
Ev'n thus it happen'd to my wearied might,
And so much courage to my soul did flow,
That I began as fill'd with gladness light:
" Oh, pitiful is she who aids me so,
And courteous thou who thus obedient wert
Unto the voice of her that bade thee go!
And with thy words thou hast disposed my heart,
And made it throb with all its old desires;
I will return unto mine ancient part.
Now thee and me one only will inspires,
My Lord, my leader, and my master dear. "
Thus did I speak and through the tangled briars,
Enter'd the forest wild and dark withouten fear.
Argument.
Dante hesitates; but hearing that Virgil has been sent by Beatrice, takes courage, and follows him.
A ND now the day departed, and the sky
Wore the dusk twilight hue that brings repose
To every living thing; and only I
To meet the perils of the way arose,
Striving that memory might not in vain
Retrace once more the path so full of woes.
O Muse, O lofty genius, aid my strain!
O Mem'ry, let thy greatness here be shown,
Thou who dost all my visions write again!
I said: " O Poet, who wouldst lead me on,
Look that my heart be high, that I may be
Strong to descend into the realms unknown.
Thou tellest of the sire of Sylvius; he
Went in the garment of this mortal life
Into the land of immortality.
But if the enemy of every strife
Was gracious, knowing all the purpose high
Of that with which his future fate was rife,
It is not strange unto the thoughtful eye;
Sire of the sacred sway of Rome, he well
Was thus decreed in the empyreal sky.
And Rome and all her empire, truth to tell,
Was stablishid for the most holy place,
Where the successors of St. Peter dwell;
And in the journey whence he won thy praise
He heard what caused him vict'ry's wreath to wear,
And did on high the papal mantle raise.
Another chosen. One to heavenly air
Ascended to bring comfort to the faith
That first salvation's pathway doth prepare.
But who unbars to me the gate of death?
Eneas I am not; not Paul am I;
I know myself unworthy, and the breath
Of others deems me so; and if I try
The path, I fear some evil will befal:
Thou who art wise, more clearly will descry
My meaning. " And like him who turns from all
He wish'd, his purpose changing with new thought,
Which him from his intention doth recal,
Thus did I in this dark and doleful spot;
For thinking, still the courage pass'd away,
That at the first was with such gladness fraught.
" If I have heard aright what thou dost say, "
Replied the spirit of the mighty dead,
" Weak cowardice upon thy soul doth weigh;
Which many times, indeed, makes man afraid,
And turns him backward from each high emprise,
Imagining wild beasts in twilight shade.
And of those doubts that I may clear thine eyes,
I tell thee why I came, and what befel
When first I thought of thee in pitying guise.
I was with those who rest 'twixt Heaven and Hell:
A lady call'd me, beautiful and bright;
I hasten'd to obey her gentle spell.
Her eyes were glistening with a starry light;
She in a low melodious voice began
Softly to speak, even as an angel might:
" O spirit of the courteous Mantuan,
Whose glory still doth in the world resound,
And shall until time's latest moments run,
My friend, but sooth not fortune's friend, is found
On a lone desert bank, where, hinder'd sore,
He would return again to the dark bound.
I fear he may have wander'd far, before
My tardy succour unto him can reach,
From what I hear, on the celestial shore.
Now quickly go, that so thou mayest teach
Him to escape from out the valley low,
And rightly guide him with thy silver speech.
For I am Beatrice, who bids thee go;
And back to my bright dwelling would I fain:
Love moved me unto thee this thing to show.
When I shall be before my Lord again,
Of thee I oft will speak in words of praise."
I answer'd then, when silent was her strain:
" O lady of high virtue, which doth raise
The human species over all the rest
Enclosed within the heavenly circle's maze
So pleasant unto me is thy behest,
That had I now obey'd, it were too slow;
No further need thy wishes be exprest.
But tell me, why hast thou no fear to go,
From the fair home whereto thou wouldst return,
Into this centre of the gulf below?"
" Since of this matter thou wouldst somewhat learn,"
She answer'd, " briefly I will tell thee why
I do not fear to come within this bourne.
Ye should have terror but of things whereby
Is work'd some evil, or another's woe;
And of nought else: therein no hurt doth lie.
By God's great mercy, he hath made me so
That all your misery hath no power on me,
Nor am I harm'd within the fiery glow.
In Heaven, a gentle lady weeps to see
The 'wilder'd One to whom thou shalt be guide;
And thus hard justice broken there may be.
This lady called Lucia to her side
And said: " Now hath thy true disciple need
Of thee, and to thy care I him confide. "
And she, unfriendly to each cruel deed,
Arose and came to me, unto the place
Where I with Rachel sat. Lucia said:
" O Beatrice, who art of God true praise,
Why dost not succour him who loved thee so,
Who for thy sake came forth from common ways?
Dost thou not hear the wailing of his woe?
Dost thou not see him, striving in the fight,
Where the wild stream as stormy sea doth show? "
Never was living thing so swift in flight,
To 'scape from ill and to attain to good,
As I, at her discourse, on footsteps light,
Descended hither from my blest abode;
Trusting, in sooth, unto thy lovely speech,
That gladdens all who near to thee have stood."
And as the gentle lady did beseech
She turned her tearful shining eyes on me,
So that I strove with quicker step to reach
The place where she had bade me succour thee,
And took thee from before the savage beast
Which thou upon the mountain path didst see.
Then wherefore in this valley wouldst thou rest?
Why dost thou such a coward aspect wear?
Why dwells no hope or boldness in thy breast,
Since now three Blessid Ones of thee have care,
On high, amid the radiant heavenly host,
And since my speech such promises doth bear? "
As close the flow'rets in the midnight frost,
But ope their leaves, whene'er the sunshine bright
Comes forth, their drooping blossoms to accost,
Ev'n thus it happen'd to my wearied might,
And so much courage to my soul did flow,
That I began as fill'd with gladness light:
" Oh, pitiful is she who aids me so,
And courteous thou who thus obedient wert
Unto the voice of her that bade thee go!
And with thy words thou hast disposed my heart,
And made it throb with all its old desires;
I will return unto mine ancient part.
Now thee and me one only will inspires,
My Lord, my leader, and my master dear. "
Thus did I speak and through the tangled briars,
Enter'd the forest wild and dark withouten fear.