Джон Мильтон

Innocence Once Lost - Religious Classics Collection


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said he, "he whom I point out,"

       And here he pointed at a spirit in front,

       "Was of the mother tongue a better smith.

      Verses of love and proses of romance,

       He mastered all; and let the idiots talk,

       Who think the Lemosin surpasses him.

      To clamour more than truth they turn their faces,

       And in this way establish their opinion,

       Ere art or reason has by them been heard.

      Thus many ancients with Guittone did,

       From cry to cry still giving him applause,

       Until the truth has conquered with most persons.

      Now, if thou hast such ample privilege

       'Tis granted thee to go unto the cloister

       Wherein is Christ the abbot of the college,

      To him repeat for me a Paternoster,

       So far as needful to us of this world,

       Where power of sinning is no longer ours."

      Then, to give place perchance to one behind,

       Whom he had near, he vanished in the fire

       As fish in water going to the bottom.

      I moved a little tow'rds him pointed out,

       And said that to his name my own desire

       An honourable place was making ready.

      He of his own free will began to say:

       'Tan m' abellis vostre cortes deman,

       Que jeu nom' puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire;

      Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan;

       Consiros vei la passada folor,

       E vei jauzen lo jorn qu' esper denan.

      Ara vus prec per aquella valor,

       Que vus condus al som de la scalina,

       Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.'*

      Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.

      * So pleases me your courteous demand,

       I cannot and I will not hide me from you.

       I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go;

       Contrite I see the folly of the past,

       And joyous see the hoped-for day before me.

       Therefore do I implore you, by that power

       Which guides you to the summit of the stairs,

       Be mindful to assuage my suffering!

      XXVII. The Wall of Fire and the Angel of God. Dante's Sleep upon the Stairway, and his Dream of Leah and Rachel. Arrival at the Terrestrial Paradise.

       Table of Contents

      As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays,

       In regions where his Maker shed his blood,

       (The Ebro falling under lofty Libra,

      And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,)

       So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing,

       When the glad Angel of God appeared to us.

      Outside the flame he stood upon the verge,

       And chanted forth, "Beati mundo corde,"

       In voice by far more living than our own.

      Then: "No one farther goes, souls sanctified,

       If first the fire bite not; within it enter,

       And be not deaf unto the song beyond."

      When we were close beside him thus he said;

       Wherefore e'en such became I, when I heard him,

       As he is who is put into the grave.

      Upon my clasped hands I straightened me,

       Scanning the fire, and vividly recalling

       The human bodies I had once seen burned.

      Towards me turned themselves my good Conductors,

       And unto me Virgilius said: "My son,

       Here may indeed be torment, but not death.

      Remember thee, remember! and if I

       On Geryon have safely guided thee,

       What shall I do now I am nearer God?

      Believe for certain, shouldst thou stand a full

       Millennium in the bosom of this flame,

       It could not make thee bald a single hair.

      And if perchance thou think that I deceive thee,

       Draw near to it, and put it to the proof

       With thine own hands upon thy garment's hem.

      Now lay aside, now lay aside all fear,

       Turn hitherward, and onward come securely;"

       And I still motionless, and 'gainst my conscience!

      Seeing me stand still motionless and stubborn,

       Somewhat disturbed he said: "Now look thou, Son,

       'Twixt Beatrice and thee there is this wall."

      As at the name of Thisbe oped his lids

       The dying Pyramus, and gazed upon her,

       What time the mulberry became vermilion,

      Even thus, my obduracy being softened,

       I turned to my wise Guide, hearing the name

       That in my memory evermore is welling.

      Whereat he wagged his head, and said: "How now?

       Shall we stay on this side?" then smiled as one

       Does at a child who's vanquished by an apple.

      Then into the fire in front of me he entered,

       Beseeching Statius to come after me,

       Who a long way before divided us.

      When I was in it, into molten glass

       I would have cast me to refresh myself,

       So without measure was the burning there!

      And my sweet Father, to encourage me,

       Discoursing still of Beatrice went on,

       Saying: "Her eyes I seem to see already!"

      A voice, that on the other side was singing,

       Directed us, and we, attent alone

       On that, came forth where the ascent began.

      "Venite, benedicti Patris mei,"

       Sounded within a splendour, which was there

       Such it o'ercame me, and I could not look.

      "The sun departs," it added, "and night cometh;

       Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps,

       So long as yet the west becomes not dark."

      Straight forward through the rock the path ascended

       In such a way that I cut off the rays

       Before me of the sun, that now was low.

      And of few stairs we yet had made assay,

       Ere by the vanished shadow the sun's setting

       Behind us we perceived, I and my Sages.

      And ere in all its parts immeasurable