| |
| WHEN from their game of dice men separate, | |
| He who hath lost remains in sadness fix’d, | |
| Revolving in his mind what luckless throws | |
| He cast: but, meanwhile, all the company | |
| Go with the other; one before him runs, | 5 |
| And one behind his mantle twitches, one | |
| Fast by his side bids him remember him. | |
| He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand | |
| Is stretch’d, well knows he bids him stand aside; | |
| And thus 1 he from the press defends himself. | 10 |
| E’en such was I in that close-crowding throng; | |
| And turning so my face around to all, | |
| And promising, I ’scaped from it with pains. | |
| Here of Arezzo him 2 I saw, who fell | |
| By Ghino’s cruel arm; and him beside, 3 | 15 |
| Who in his chase was swallow’d by the stream. | |
| Here Frederic Novello, 4 with his hand | |
| Stretch’d forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, 5 | |
| Who put the good Marzucco to such proof | |
| Of constancy. Count Orso 6 I beheld; | 20 |
| And from its frame a soul dismiss’d for spite | |
| And envy, as it said, but for no crime; | |
| I speak of Peter de la Brosse: 7 and here, | |
| While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant, | |
| Let her beware; lest for so false a deed | 25 |
| She herd with worse than these. When I was freed | |
| From all those spirits, who pray’d for others’ prayers | |
| To hasten on their state of blessedness; | |
| Straight I began: “O thou, my luminary! | |
| It seems expressly in thy text denied, | 30 |
| That Heaven’s supreme decree can ever bend | |
| To supplication; yet with this design | |
| Do these entreat. Can then their hope be vain? | |
| Or is thy saying not to me reveal’d?” | |
| He thus to me: “Both what I write is plain, | 35 |
| And these deceived not in their hope; if well | |
| Thy mind consider, that the sacred height | |
| Of judgment doth not stoop, because love’s flame | |
| In a short moment all fulfills, which he, | |
| Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy. | 40 |
| Besides, when I this point concluded thus, | |
| By praying no defect could be supplied; | |
| Because the prayer had none access to God. | |
| Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not | |
| Contented, unless she assure thee so, | 45 |
| Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light: | |
| I know not if thou take me right; I mean | |
| Beatrice. Her thou shalt behold above, | |
| Upon this mountain’s crown, fair seat of joy.” | |
| Then I: “Sir! let us mend our speed; for now | 50 |
| I tire not as before: and lo! the hill 8 | |
| Stretches its shadow far.” He answer’d thus: | |
| “Our progress with this day shall be as much | |
| As we may now despatch; but otherwise | |
| Than thou supposest is the truth. For there | 55 |
| Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold | |
| Him back returning, who behind the steep | |
| Is now so hidden, that, as erst, his beam | |
| Thou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there | |
| Stands solitary, and toward us looks: | 60 |
| It will instruct us in the speediest way.” | |
| We soon approach’d it. O thou Lombard spirit! | |
| How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood, | |
| Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes. | |
| It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass, | 65 |
| Eying us as a lion on his watch. | |
| But Virgil, with entreaty mild, advanced, | |
| Requesting it to show the best ascent. | |
| It answer to his question none return’d; | |
| But of our country and our kind of life | 70 |
| Demanded. When my courteous guide began, | |
| “Mantua,” the shadow, in itself absorb’d, | |
| Rose toward us from the place in which it stood, | |
| And cried, “Mantuan! I am thy countryman, | |
| Sordello.” 9 Each the other then embraced. | 75 |
| Ah, slavish Italy! thou inn of grief! | |
| Vessel without a pilot in loud storm! | |
| Lady no longer of fair provinces, | |
| But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit, | |
| Even from the pleasant sound of his dear land | 80 |
| Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen | |
| With such glad cheer: while now thy living ones | |
| In thee abide not without war; and one | |
| Malicious gnaws another; ay, of those | |
| Whom the same wall and the same moat contains. | 85 |
| Seek, wretched one! around the sea-coasts wide; | |
| Then homeward to thy bosom turn; and mark, | |
| If any part of thee sweet peace enjoy. | |
| What boots it, that thy reins Justinian’s hand | |
| Refitted, if thy saddle be unprest? | 90 |
| Naught doth he now but aggravate thy shame. | |
| Ah, people! thou obedient still should’st live, | |
| And in the saddle let thy Cæsar sit, | |
| If well thou marked’st that which God commands. | |
| Look how that beast to fellness hath relapsed, | 95 |
| From having lost correction of the spur, | |
| Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand, | |
| O German Albert! 10 who abandon’st her | |
| That is grown savage and unmanageable, | |
| When thou shouldst clasp her flanks with forked heels. | 100 |
| Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood; | |
| And be it strange and manifest to all; | |
| Such as may strike thy successor 11 with dread; | |
| For that thy sire 12 and thou have suffer’d thus, | |
| Through greediness of yonder realms detain’d, | 105 |
| The garden of the empire to run waste. | |
| Come, see the Capulets and Montagues, 13 | |
| The Filippeschi and Monaldi, 14 man | |
| Who carest for naught! those sunk in grief, and these | |
| With dire suspicion rack’d. Come, cruel one! | 110 |
| Come, and behold the oppression of the nobles, | |
| And mark their injuries; and thou mayst see | |
| What safety Santafiore can supply. 15 | |
| Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee, | |
| Desolate widow, day and night with moans, | 115 |
| “My Cæsar, why dost thou desert my side?” | |
| Come, and behold what love among thy people: | |
| And if no pity touches thee for us, | |
| Come, and blush for thine own report. For me, | |
| If it be lawful, O Almighty Power! | 120 |
| Who wast on earth for our sakes crucified, | |
| Are thy just eyes turn’d elsewhere? or is this | |
| A preparation, in the wondrous depth | |
| Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end, | |
| Entirely from our reach of thought cut off? | 125 |
| So are the Italian cities all o’erthrong’d | |
| With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made | |
| Of every petty factious villager. | |
| My Florence! thou mayst well remain unmoved | |
| At this digression, which affects not thee: | 130 |
| Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed. | |
| Many have justice in their heart, that long | |
| Waiteth for counsel to direct the bow, | |
| Or ere it dart unto its aim: but thine | |
| Have it on their lips’ edge. Many refuse | 135 |
| To bear the common burdens: readier thine | |
| Answer uncall’d, and cry, “Behold I stoop!” | |
| Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now, | |
| Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom-fraught! | |
| Facts best will witness if I speak the truth. | 140 |
| Athens and Lacedæmon, who of old | |
| Enacted laws, for civil arts renown’d, | |
| Made little progress in improving life | |
| Toward thee, who usest such nice subtlety, | |
| That to the middle of November scarce | 145 |
| Reaches the thread thou in October weavest. | |
| How many times within thy memory, | |
| Customs, and laws, and coins, and offices | |
| Have been by thee renew’d, and people changed. | |
| If thou remember’st well and canst see clear, | 150 |
| Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch, | |
| Who finds no rest upon her down, but oft | |
| Shifting her side, short respite seeks from pain. | |
