| |
| SUCH as the youth, 1 who came to Clymene, | |
| To certify himself of that reproach | |
| Which had been fasten’d on him, (he whose end, | |
| Still makes the fathers chary to their sons), | |
| E’en such was I; nor unobserved was such | 5 |
| Of Beatrice, and that saintly lamp, 2 | |
| Who had erewhile for me his station moved; | |
| When thus my lady: “Give thy wish free vent, | |
| That it may issue, bearing true report | |
| Of the mind’s impress: not that aught thy words | 10 |
| May to our knowledge add, but to the end | |
| That thou mayst use thyself to own thy thirst, 3 | |
| And men may mingle for thee when they hear.” | |
| “O plant, from whence I spring! revered and loved! | |
| Who soar’st so high a pitch, that thou as clear, 4 | 15 |
| As earthly thought determines two obtuse | |
| In one triangle not contain’d, so clear | |
| Dost see contingencies, ere in themselves | |
| Existent, looking at the point 5 whereto | |
| All times are present; I, the whilst I scaled | 20 |
| With Virgil the soul-purifying mount | |
| And visited the nether world of woe, | |
| Touching my future destiny have heard | |
| Words grievous, though I feel me on all sides | |
| Well squared to fortune’s blows. Therefore my will | 25 |
| Were satisfied to know the lot awaits me; | |
| The arrow, seen beforehand, slacks his flight.” | |
| So said I to the brightness, which erewhile | |
| To me had spoken; and my will declared, | |
| As Beatrice will’d, explicitly. | 30 |
| Nor with oracular response obscure, | |
| Such as, or e’er the Lamb of God was slain, | |
| Beguiled the credulous nations: but, in terms | |
| Precise, and unambiguous lore, replied | |
| The spirit of paternal love, enshrined, | 35 |
| Yet in his smile apparent; and thus spake: | |
| “Contingency, 6 whose verge extendeth not | |
| Beyond the tablet of your mortal mold, | |
| Is all depictured in the eternal sight; | |
| But hence deriveth not necessity, 7 | 40 |
| More than the tall ship, hurried down the flood, | |
| Is driven by the eye that looks on it. | |
| From thence, 8 as to the ear sweet harmony | |
| From organ comes, so comes before mine eye | |
| The time prepared for thee. Such as driven out | 45 |
| From Athens, by his cruel stepdame’s 9 wiles, | |
| Hippolytus departed; such must thou | |
| Depart from Florence. This they wish, and this | |
| Contrive, and will ere long effectuate, there, 10 | |
| Where gainful merchandize is made of Christ | 50 |
| Throughout the live-long day. The common cry, 11 | |
| Will, as ’tis ever wont, affix the blame | |
| Unto the party injured: but the truth | |
| Shall, in the vengeance it dispenseth, find | |
| A faithful witness. Thou shalt leave each thing | 55 |
| Beloved most dearly: this is the first shaft | |
| Shot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove | |
| How salt the savour is of other’s bread; | |
| How hard the passage, to descend and climb | |
| By other’s stairs. But that shall gall thee most, | 60 |
| Will be the worthless and vile company, | |
| With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. | |
| For all ungrateful, impious all, and mad, | |
| Shall turn ’gainst thee: but in a little while, | |
| Theirs, 12 and not thine, shall be the crimson’d brow. | 65 |
| Their course shall so evince their brutishness, | |
| To have ta’en thy stand apart shall well become thee. | |
| “First refuge thou must find, first place of rest, | |
| In the great Lombard’s 13 courtesy, who bears, | |
| Upon the ladder perch’d, the sacred bird. | 70 |
| He shall behold thee with such kind regard, | |
| That ’twixt ye two, the contrary to that | |
| Which ’falls ’twixt other men, the granting shall | |
| Forerun the asking. With him shalt thou see | |
| That mortal, 14 who was at his birth imprest | 75 |
| So strongly from this star, that of his deeds | |
| The nations shall take note. His unripe age | |
| Yet holds him from observance; for these wheels | |
| Only nine years have compasst him about. | |
| But, ere the Gascon 15 practise on great Harry, 16 | 80 |
| Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him, | |
| In equal scorn of labours and of gold | |
| His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely, | |
| As not to let the tongues, e’en of his foes, | |
| Be idle in its praise. Look thou to him, | 85 |
| And his beneficence: for he shall cause | |
| Reversal of their lot to many people; | |
| Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes. | |
| And thou shalt bear this written in thy soul’ | |
| Of him, but tell it not:” and things he told | 90 |
| Incredible to those who witness them; | |
| Then added: “So interpret thou, my son, | |
| What hath been told thee.—Lo! the ambushment | |
| That a few circling seasons hide for thee. | |
| Yet envy not thy neighbours: time extends | 95 |
| Thy span beyond their treason’s chastisement.” | |
| Soon as the saintly spirit, by silence, mark’d | |
| Completion of that web, which I had stretch’d | |
| Before it, warp’d for weaving; I began, | |
| As one, who in perplexity desires | 100 |
| Counsel of other, wise, benign and friendly: | |
| “My father! well I mark how time spurs on | |
| Toward me, ready to inflict the blow, | |
| Which falls most heavily on him who most | |
| Abandoneth himself. Therefore ’tis good | 105 |
| I should forecast, that, driven from the place 17 | |
| Most dear to me, I may not lose myself 18 | |
| All other by my song. Down through the world | |
| Of infinite mourning; and along the mount, | |
| From whose fair height my lady’s eyes did lift me; | 110 |
| And, after, through this Heaven, from light to light; | |
| Have I learnt that, which if I tell again, | |
| It may with many wofully disrelish: | |
| And, if I am a timid friend to truth, | |
| I fear my life may perish among those, | 115 |
| To whom these days shall be of ancient date.” | |
| The brightness, where enclosed the treasure 19 smiled, | |
| Which I had found there, first shone glisteringly, | |
| Like to a golden mirror in the sun; | |
| Next answer’d: “Conscience, dimm’d or by its own | 120 |
| Or other’s shame, will feel thy saying sharp. | |
| Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit removed, | |
| See the whole vision be made manifest; | |
| And let them wince, who have their withers wrung. | |
| What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove | 125 |
| Unwelcome: on digestion, it will turn | |
| To vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest, | |
| Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest summits; | |
| Which is of honour no light argument. | |
| For this, there only have been shown to thee, | 130 |
| Throughout these orbs, the mountain, and the deep, | |
| Spirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind | |
| Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce | |
| And fix its faith, unless the instance brought | |
| Be palpable, and proof apparent urge.” | 135 |
