| |
| NOW was the hour that wakens fond desire | |
| In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart | |
| Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell, | |
| And pilgrim newly on his road with love | |
| Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, | 5 |
| That seems to mourn for the expiring day: | |
| When I, no longer taking heed to hear, | |
| Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark | |
| One risen from its seat, which with its hand | |
| Audience implored. Both palms it join’d and raised, | 10 |
| Fixing its steadfast gaze toward the east, | |
| As telling God, “I care for naught beside.” | |
| “Te Lucis Ante,” 1 so devoutly then | |
| Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain, | |
| That all my sense in ravishment was lost. | 15 |
| And the rest after, softly and devout, | |
| Follow’d through all the hymn, with upward gaze | |
| Directed to the bright supernal wheels. | |
| Here, reader! for the truth make thine eyes keen: | |
| For of so subtle texture is this veil, | 20 |
| That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark’d. | |
| I saw that gentle band silently next | |
| Look up, as if in expectation held, | |
| Pale and in lowly guise; and, from on high, | |
| I saw, forth issuing descend beneath, | 25 |
| Two Angels, with two flame-illumined swords, | |
| Broken and mutilated of their points. | |
| Green as the tender leaves but newly born, | |
| Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green | |
| Beaten, they drew behind them, fann’d in air. | 30 |
| A little over us one took his stand; | |
| The other lighted on the opposing hill; | |
| So that the troop were in the midst contain’d. | |
| Well I descried the whiteness on their heads; | |
| But in their visages the dazzled eye | 35 |
| Was lost, as faculty that by too much | |
| Is overpower’d. “From Mary’s bosom both | |
| Are come,” exclaim’d Sordello, “as a guard | |
| Over the vale, ’gainst him who hither tends, | |
| The serpent.” Whence, not knowing by which path | 40 |
| He came, I turn’d me round; and closely press’d, | |
| All frozen, to my leader’s trusted side. | |
| Sordello paused not: “To the valley now | |
| (For it is time) let us descend; and hold | |
| Converse with those great shadows: haply much | 45 |
| Their sight may please ye.” Only three steps down | |
| Methinks I measured, ere I was beneath, | |
| And noted one who look’d as with desire | |
| To know me. Time was now that air grew dim; | |
| Yet not so dim, that, ’twixt his eyes and mine, | 50 |
| It clear’d not up what was conceal’d before. | |
| Mutually toward each other we advanced. | |
| Nino, thou courteous judge! 2 what joy I felt, | |
| When I perceived thou wert not with the bad. | |
| No salutation kind on either part | 55 |
| Was left unsaid. He then inquired: “How long, | |
| Since thou arrived’st at the mountain’s foot, | |
| Over the distant waves?”—“Oh!” answer’d I, | |
| “Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came; | |
| And still in my first life, thus journeying on, | 60 |
| The other strive to gain.” Soon as they heard | |
| My words, he and Sordello backward drew, | |
| As suddenly amazed. To Virgil one, | |
| The other to a spirit turn’d, who near | |
| Was seated, crying: “Conrad! 3 up with speed: | 65 |
| Come, see what of His grace high God hath will’d.” | |
| Then turning round to me: “By that rare mark | |
| Of honour, which thou owest to Him, who hides | |
| So deeply His first cause it hath no ford; | |
| When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves, | 70 |
| Tell my Giovanna, 4 that for me she call | |
| There, where reply to innocence is made. | |
| Her mother, 5 I believe, loves me no more; | |
| Since she has changed the white and wimpled folds, 6 | |
| Which she is doom’d once more with grief to wish. | 75 |
| By her it easily may be perceived, | |
| How long in woman lasts the flame of love, | |
| If sight and touch do not relume it oft. | |
| For her so fair a burial will not make | |
| The viper, 7 which calls Milan to the field, | 80 |
| As had been made by shrill Gallura’s bird.” 8 | |
| He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp | |
| Of that right zeal, which with due temperature | |
| Glows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes | |
| Meanwhile to Heaven had travel’d, even there | 85 |
| Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel | |
| Nearest the axle; when my guide inquired: | |
| “What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?” | |
| I answer’d: “The three torches, 9 with which here | |
| The pole is all on fire.” He then to me: | 90 |
| “The four resplendent stars, thou saw’st this morn, | |
| Are there beneath; and these, risen in their stead.” | |
| While yet he spoke, Sordello to himself | |
| Drew him, and cried: “Lo there our enemy!” | |
| And with his hand pointed that way to look. | 95 |
| Along the side, where barrier none arose | |
| Around the little vale, a serpent lay, | |
| Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food. | |
| Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake | |
| Came on, reverting oft his lifted head; | 100 |
| And, as a beast that smooths its polish’d coat, | |
| Licking his back. I saw not, nor can tell, | |
| How those celestial falcons from their seat | |
| Moved, but in motion each one well described. | |
| Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes, | 105 |
| The serpent fled; and, to their stations, back | |
| The Angels up return’d with equal flight. | |
| The spirit, (who to Nino, when he call’d, | |
| Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken, | |
| Through all that conflict, loosen’d not his sight. | 110 |
| “So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high, | |
| Find, in thy free resolve, of wax so much, | |
| As may suffice thee to the enamel’d height.” | |
| It thus began: “If any certain news | |
| Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part | 115 |
| Thou know’st, tell me, who once was mighty there. | |
| They call’d me Conrad Malaspina; not | |
| That old one, but from him I sprang. The love | |
| I bore my people is now here refined.” | |
| “In your domains,” I answer’d, “ne’er was I. | 120 |
| But, through all Europe, where do those men dwell, | |
| To whom their glory is not manifest? | |
| The fame, that honours your illustrious house, | |
| Proclaims the nobles, and proclaims the land; | |
| So that he knows it, who was never there. | 125 |
| I swear to you, so may my upward route | |
| Prosper, your honoured nation not impairs | |
| The value of her coffer and her sword. | |
| Nature and use give her such privilege, | |
| That while the world is twisted from his course | 130 |
| By a bad head, she only walks aright, | |
| And has the evil way in scorn.” He then: | |
| “Now pass thee on: seven times the tired sun 10 | |
| Revisits not the couch, which with the four feet | |
| The forked Aries covers, ere that kind | 135 |
| Opinion shall be nail’d into thy brain | |
| With stronger nails than other’s speech can drive; | |
| If the sure course of judgment be not stay’d.” | |
