Through me to the city dolorous lies the way, Who pass through me shall pains eternal prove, Through me are reached the people lost for aye. ’Twas Justice did my Glorious Maker move; I was created by the Power Divine, The Highest Wisdom, and the Primal Love. No thing’s creation earlier was than mine, If not eternal; Ye who make entrance, every hope resign! These words beheld I writ in hue obscure On summit of a gateway; wherefore I: ‘Hard Beforehand of my thought, he made reply: ‘Here it behoves to leave all fears behind; All cowardice behoveth here to die. Where thou the miserable folk shouldst see Who the true good Then, with a glance of glad serenity, He took my hand in his, which made me bold, And brought me in where secret things there be. There sighs and plaints and wailings uncontrolled The dim and starless air resounded through; Nor at the first could I from tears withhold. The various languages and words of woe, The uncouth accents, And smiting palms and voices loud and low, Composed a tumult which doth circling rise For ever in that air obscured for aye; As when the sand upon the whirlwind flies. And, horror-stricken, ‘Master, what sound can this be that I hear, And who the folk thus whelmed in misery?’ And he replied: ‘In this condition drear Are held the souls of that inglorious crew Who lived unhonoured, but from guilt kept clear. Mingled they are with caitiff angels, who, Though from avowed rebellion they refrained, Disloyal to God, did selfish ends pursue. Received they are not by the nether hell, Else triumph And I: ‘What bear they, Master, to compel Their lamentations in such grievous tone?’ He answered: ‘In few words I will thee tell. No hope of death is to the wretches known; So dim the life and abject where they sigh They count all sufferings easier than their own. Of them the world endures no memory; Mercy and justice them alike disdain. Speak we not of them: glance, and pass them by.’ I saw a banner Which, always whirling round, advanced in haste As if despising steadfast to remain. And after it so many people chased In long procession, I should not have said That death Some first I recognised, and then the shade I saw and knew of him, the search to close, Straightway I knew and was assured that those Were of the tribe of caitiffs, Despised of God and hated of His foes. The wretches, who when living showed no trace Of life, went naked, and were fiercely stung By wasps and hornets swarming in that place. Blood drawn by these out of their faces sprung And, mingled with their tears, was at their feet Sucked up by loathsome worms it fell among. Casting mine eyes beyond, of these replete, People I saw beside an ample stream, Whereon I said: ‘O Master, I entreat, Impatient till across the river gone; As I distinguish by this feeble gleam.’ And he: ‘These things shall unto thee be known What time our footsteps shall at rest be found Upon the woful shores of Acheron.’ Then with ashamÈd eyes cast on the ground, Fearing my words were irksome in his ear, Until we reached the stream I made no sound. And toward us, lo, within a bark drew near A veteran Shouting: ‘Ye souls depraved, be filled with fear. Hope never more of Heaven to win the sight; I come to take you to the other strand, < |