Classic Poem

My eyes were fix'd, so eager and intent
The thirst of ten long weary years to sate,
That all my other senses seem'd as spent;
And those, on this side and on that, were met
By walls which made them care for nought beside,
Her smile so drew them in its ancient net:
When I, perforce, was turn'd unto the side
Where erst I saw those holy maidens three,
Because they said: “Too fix'd thine eyes abide.”
As, after gazing at the sun, ye see
But dimly, dazzled by the radiance bright;
So, in like manner was it now with me.
But when my eyes were in the lesser light
More skill'd, (a lesser light, I did but say,
Beside the greater splendour,) to the right,
I saw the glorious army turn away,
Until a radiance beam'd upon each brow,
From the seven lamps and from the solar ray.
As soldiers 'neath their shields for safety draw,
And, 'mid the battle, with their banner turn,
Ere yet they wholly can be moved, I saw
Even thus the legions of the heavenly bourne,
Who form'd the vanguard, all pass on, before
The bending of the car I could discern.
Beside the wheels the maidens sped once more,
And the wing'd courser drew the holy ark,
The while his plumes he all unruffled bore.
She who had led me through the water dark,
And I and Statius, by that wheel pass'd on,
Which, turning, did a smaller orbit mark.
And, as we wended through the forest, (lone,
For sin of her who to the serpent's speech
Gave ear,) they sang, in sweet, melodious tone
An angel hymn. The arrow's flight might reach
Three times as far as we had onward sped,
When Beatrice her chariot stay'd. From each
I heard a whispering voice, which “Adam!” said;
And then they circled round a tree, whose pride
Of verdant leaves and blossoms all had fled;
Yet spread it forth its crown so high and wide,
That even amid the Indian forests vast,
Its stately stature well had been descried.
“But thou, O wingëd steed, art surely blest,
Abstaining from this tree whose fruit is sweet
At first, but after, of most bitter taste.”
Thus round the leafless trunk, with circling feet
They pass'd, and spake; then he of natures twain:
“Here lives the seed of justice, as is meet.”
Now to his chariot-pole he turn'd amain,
And dragg'd it to the stem all bare and riven;
And tied thereto he left it. As, full fain,
The plants of earth, when unto them is given
The sunny splendour, mingled with the rays
Still following the silvery fish of heaven,
Bud, in the shining of the soft spring days,
And, as of old, each colour o'er them glows,
Ere yet the sun has gone in other ways;
More bright than violet, more pale than rose,
Were the new blossoms which the plant did gain,
Where erst had been but dry and wither'd boughs.
Sooth, to the knowledge of that sweetest strain
Which now they sang, a hymn unheard below,
My weak and weary sense might not attain:
But, could I track the steps of sleep, and show
How, at the tale of Syrinx, slumber fell
Upon those eyes whose watching work'd their woe,
As painter doth on his ensample dwell,
I should depict how closed my drowsy eyes;
But then I needs were skill'd to picture well.
Thus I pass on, to tell thee in what guise
A splendour rent the veil of sleep from me,
And a voice said: “What dost thou here? Arise!”
As, to behold the blossoms of that tree,
Whose fruit the holy angels aye hath fed,
In heavenly feast which evermore shall be,
Peter, and James, and John, of yore were led,
And from their trance were waken'd by the call
At which more heavy slumber once had fled,
And saw their company diminish'd all;
For Moses and Elias both were gone,
And even their Lord was clad in changëd stole:
Thus turn'd I; and beheld the dame alone,
Standing anear me, who my steps did aid,
When through the flowing river I was drawn.
And “Where is Beatrice?” in doubt I said;
And she to me: “Behold her where along
The turf there lies yon tree's new leafy shade.
Behold the company who round her throng;
Following the wingëd steed the others soar,
With yet a deeper, sweeter voice of song.”
I heard not rightly if her words were more;
Because before my longing eyes was that
Which from my mind shut out all other lore.
Alone upon the holy ground she sat,
As guardian of the car which there was tied
By him in whom two natures are innate.
The seven fair nymphs all hand in hand allied,
Encircled her, and those bright lamps they held,
Which safe from Aquila and Auster 'bide.
“When thou, a stranger here, shalt have fulfill'd
Thy time, thou ever in that Rome with me,
Shalt dwell, where Christ the Roman power doth wield.
Yet (for the sake of those who evilly
Do walk on earth) when thou hast there return'd,
Look that thou write the things thou here dost see:”
Thus Beatrice to me. And I, who burn'd
Her bidding to fulfil, with mind devout,
My eyes and thoughts even as she bade me turn'd.
Never from out thick clouds the fire is brought
So swiftly, when the summer tempests rove,
Bursting in rain from regions most remote,
As here I now beheld the bird of Jove
Swoop on the tree; and branch and stem he broke,
And scatter'd leaves and blossoms through the grove,
And struck the chariot with so rude a stroke,
It bent, as doth a ship in stormy flood,
Now here, now there, sway'd by the billows' shock.
And then, in the triumphal car there stood
A fox, whose gaunt and meagre form did show
How fierce his appetite for every food.
But, smiting him with many an angry blow,
My fairest Lady turn'd him soon to flight
As swift as bones withouten flesh may go:
And then return'd once more within my sight
The eagle, and full swiftly cleft the air,
And fill'd the chariot with his plumage bright.
As from a heart that doth some sorrow wear,
A voice came forth from heaven, and thus it spake:
“My ship, thou dost an evil burden bear!”
And now it seem'd as from the earth there brake
A dragon, which between the wheels did spring,
And with sharp-pointed tail the chariot strake;
Then, as a wasp that pulls away her sting,
Unto himself he drew the dart malign,
And of the car therewith a part did bring,
And joyful fled in windings serpentine.—
As seed in fertile soil, the plumage, shed
Perchance with meaning holy and benign,
Now thickly over all the chariot spread,
And hid the whole, within so short a space,
That longer were it ere a sigh had sped
From open lips. The holy edifice,
Transformëd thus, now divers heads put forth,
One at each side, three at the foremost place.
The first were like to oxen of this earth;
The rest had but one horn upon their front:
Such creatures strange were ne'er of mortal birth.
Securely, as a rock on lofty mount,
Seated thereon a harlot I descried,
Who look'd around with gaze of shameless wont.
And, as in fear to lose her, by her side
A fierce and giant lover did I see;
And kisses they exchanged. But she, with wide
And roving eye, oft turn'd her glance on me;
Thus I her wrathful paramour beheld
Scourge her full sore, in savage jealousy.
Then he, with anger and suspicion fill'd,
Loosed from the tree that monstrous form, and fled
Far mid the wood, which o'er me, as a shield
From those dark Forms of Evil, its bright verdure spread.