Through thee I Poet was, through thee a Christian;

But that thou better see what I design,

To colour it will I extend my hand. Already was the world in every part

Pregnant with the true creed, disseminated
By messengers of the eternal kingdom;
And thy assertion, spoken of above,

With the new preachers was in unison ;
Whence I to visit them the custom took.

Then they became so holy in my sight,

That, when Domitian persecuted them,

Not without tears of mine were their laments;

And all the while that I on earth remained,

Them I befriended, and their upright customs
Made me disparage all the other sects.

And ere I led the Greeks unto the rivers
Of Thebes, in poetry, I was baptized,
But out of fear was covertly a Christian,

For a long time professing paganism ;

And this lukewarmness caused me the fourth circle
To circuit round more than four centuries.
Thou, therefore, who hast raised the covering

That hid from me whatever good I speak of,
While in ascending we have time to spare,
Tell me, in what place is our friend Terentius,

Cæcilius, Plautus, Varro, if thou knowest;
Tell me if they are damned, and in what alley."
"These, Persius and myself, and others many,"

Replied my Leader, "with that Grecian are
Whom more than all the rest the Muses suckled,

In the first circle of the prison blind;

Ofttimes we of the mountain hold discourse
Which has our nurses ever with itself.

Euripides is with us, Antiphon,

Simonides, Agatho, and many other

Greeks who of old their brows with laurel decked.

There some of thine own people may be seen,
Antigone, Deiphile and Argia,

And there Ismene mournful as of old.

There she is seen who pointed out Langìa;

There is Tiresias' daughter, and there Thetis,
And there Deidamia with her sisters."

Silent already were the poets both,

Attent once more in looking round about,

From the ascent and from the walls released;

And four handmaidens of the day already

Were left behind, and at the pole the fifth
Was pointing upward still its burning horn,
What time my Guide: I think that tow'rds the edge
Our dexter shoulders it behoves us turn,
Circling the mount as we are wont to do."
Thus in that region custom was our ensign;

And we resumed our way with less suspicion
For the assenting of that worthy soul
They in advance went on, and I alone

Behind them, and I listened to their speech,
Which gave me lessons in the art of song.
But soon their sweet discourses interrupted

A tree which midway in the road we found,
With apples sweet and grateful to the smell.
And even as a fir-tree tapers upward

From bough to bough, so downwardly did that;
I think in order that no one might climb it.
On that side where our pathway was enclosed
Fell from the lofty rock a limpid water,
And spread itself abroad upon the leaves.
The Poets twain unto the tree drew near,

And from among the foliage a voice
Cried: "Of this food ye shall have scarcity."
Then said: "More thoughtful Mary was of making

The marriage feast complete and honourable,
Than of her mouth which now for you responds;
And for their drink the ancient Roman women

With water were content; and Daniel
Disparaged food, and understanding won.
The primal age was beautiful as gold;
Acorns it made with hunger savorous,
And nectar every rivulet with thirst.
Honey and locusts were the aliments

That fed the Baptist in the wilderness;
Whence he is glorious, and so magnified
As by the Evangel is revealed to you.'

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99

CANTO XXIII.

THE while among the verdant leaves mine eyes
I riveted, as he is wont to do

Who wastes his life pursuing little birds,

My more than Father said unto me: "Son,

Come now; because the time that is ordained us
More usefully should be apportioned out."
I turned my face and no less soon my steps
Unto the Sages, who were speaking so
They made the going of no cost to me;
And lo! were heard a song and a lament,
"Labia mea, Domine," in fashion

Such that delight and dolence it brought forth. "O my sweet Father, what is this I hear ?"

Began I; and he answered: "Shades that go
Perhaps the knot unloosing of their debt."
In the same way that thoughtful pilgrims do,

Who, unknown people on the road o'ertaking,
Turn themselves round to them, and do not stop,

Even thus, behind us with a swifter motion

Coming and passing onward, gazed upon us
A crowd of spirits silent and devout.
Each in his eyes was dark and cavernous,

Pallid in face, and so emaciate

That from the bones the skin did shape itself.

I do not think that so to merest rind

Could Erisichthon have been withered up
By famine, when most fear he had of it.
Thinking within myself I said: "Behold,
This is the folk who lost Jerusalem,
When Mary made a prey of her own son.'
Their sockets were like rings without the gems;
Whoever in the face of men reads omo
Might well in these have recognised the m.
Who would believe the odour of an apple,

Begetting longing, could consume them so,
And that of water, without knowing how?
I still was wondering what so famished them,
For the occasion not yet manifest

Of their emaciation and sad squalor ;
And lo! from out the hollow of his head

His eyes a shade turned on me, and looked keenly;
Then cried aloud: "What grace to me is this?"

Never should I have known him by his look ;

But in his voice was evident to me

That which his aspect had suppressed within it.

This spark within me wholly re-enkindled
My recognition of his altered face,
And I recalled the features of Forese.

"Ah, do not look at this dry leprosy,"

Entreated he, "which doth my skin discolour,
Nor at default of flesh that I may have ;
But tell me truth of thee, and who are those

Two souls, that yonder make for thee an escort;
Do not delay in speaking unto me."
"That face of thine, which dead I once bewept,
Gives me for weeping now no lesser grief,"
I answered him, "beholding it so changed!
But tell me, for God's sake, what thus denudes you?
Make me not speak while I am marvelling,
For ill speaks he who's full of other longings."

And he to me: 66 From the eternal council
Falls power into the water and the tree
Behind us left, whereby I grow so thin.
All of this people who lamenting sing,

For following beyond measure appetite
In hunger and thirst are here re-sanctified.
Desire to eat and drink enkindles in us

The scent that issues from the apple-tree,

And from the spray that sprinkles o'er the verdure ;

And not a single time alone, this ground

Encompassing, becomes refreshed our pain,-
I say our pain, and ought to say our solace,—

For the same wish doth lead us to the tree
Which led the Christ rejoicing to say Eli,
When with his veins he liberated us."

And I to him: "Forese, from that day

When for a better life thou changedst worlds,
Up to this time five years have not rolled round.

If sooner were the power exhausted in thee

Of sinning more, than thee the hour surprised Of that good sorrow which to God reweds us, How hast thou come up hitherward already?

I thought to find thee down there underneath, Where time for time doth restitution make." And he to me: "Thus speedily has led me

To drink of the sweet wormwood of these torments,
My Nella with her overflowing tears;

She with her prayers devout and with her sighs

Has drawn me from the coast where one awaits,
And from the other circles set me free.

So much more dear and pleasing is to God

My little widow, whom so much I loved,
As in good works she is the more alone;

For the Barbagia of Sardinia

By far more modest in its women is
Than the Barbagia I have left her in.
O brother sweet, what wilt thou have me say?
A future time is in my sight already,
To which this hour will not be very old,
When from the pulpit shall be interdicted

To the unblushing womankind of Florence
To go about displaying breast and paps.
What savages were e'er, what Saracens,

Who stood in need, to make them covered go,
Of spiritual or other discipline?

But if the shameless women were assured

Of what swift Heaven prepares for them, already
Wide open would they have their mouths to howl;
For if my foresight here deceive me not,

They shall be sad ere he has bearded cheeks
Who now is hushed to sleep with lullaby.
O brother, now no longer hide thee from me;
See that not only I, but all these people
Are gazing there, where thou dost veil the sun."
Whence I to him: "If thou bring back to mind
What thou with me hast been and I with thee,
The present memory will be grievous still.
Out of that life he turned me back who goes

In front of me, two days agone when round
The sister of him yonder showed herself,"
And to the sun I pointed. "Through the deep
Night of the truly dead has this one led me,
With this true flesh, that follows after him.

Thence his encouragements have led me up,

Ascending and still circling round the mount

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That you doth straighten, whom the world made crooked.

Your realm, that from itself discharges him."