Divine Comedy (Illustrated Edition). Dante Alighieri

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      That hue which cowardice brought out on me,

       Beholding my Conductor backward turn,

       Sooner repressed within him his new colour.

      He stopped attentive, like a man who listens,

       Because the eye could not conduct him far

       Through the black air, and through the heavy fog.

      "Still it behoveth us to win the fight,"

       Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . .

       O how I long that some one here arrive!"

      Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning

       He covered up with what came afterward,

       That they were words quite different from the first;

      But none the less his saying gave me fear,

       Because I carried out the broken phrase,

       Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had.

      "Into this bottom of the doleful conch

       Doth any e'er descend from the first grade,

       Which for its pain has only hope cut off?"

      This question put I; and he answered me:

       "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us

       Maketh the journey upon which I go.

      True is it, once before I here below

       Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho,

       Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.

      Naked of me short while the flesh had been,

       Before within that wall she made me enter,

       To bring a spirit from the circle of Judas;

      That is the lowest region and the darkest,

       And farthest from the heaven which circles all.

       Well know I the way; therefore be reassured.

      This fen, which a prodigious stench exhales,

       Encompasses about the city dolent,

       Where now we cannot enter without anger."

      And more he said, but not in mind I have it;

       Because mine eye had altogether drawn me

       Tow'rds the high tower with the red-flaming summit,

      Where in a moment saw I swift uprisen

       The three infernal Furies stained with blood,

       Who had the limbs of women and their mien,

      And with the greenest hydras were begirt;

       Small serpents and cerastes were their tresses,

       Wherewith their horrid temples were entwined.

      And he who well the handmaids of the Queen

       Of everlasting lamentation knew,

       Said unto me: "Behold the fierce Erinnys.

      This is Megaera, on the left-hand side;

       She who is weeping on the right, Alecto;

       Tisiphone is between;" and then was silent.

      Each one her breast was rending with her nails;

       They beat them with their palms, and cried so loud,

       That I for dread pressed close unto the Poet.

      "Medusa come, so we to stone will change him!"

       All shouted looking down; "in evil hour

       Avenged we not on Theseus his assault!"

      "Turn thyself round, and keep thine eyes close shut,

       For if the Gorgon appear, and thou shouldst see it,

       No more returning upward would there be."

      Thus said the Master; and he turned me round

       Himself, and trusted not unto my hands

       So far as not to blind me with his own.

      O ye who have undistempered intellects,

       Observe the doctrine that conceals itself

       Beneath the veil of the mysterious verses!

      And now there came across the turbid waves

       The clangour of a sound with terror fraught,

       Because of which both of the margins trembled;

      Not otherwise it was than of a wind

       Impetuous on account of adverse heats,

       That smites the forest, and, without restraint,

      The branches rends, beats down, and bears away;

       Right onward, laden with dust, it goes superb,

       And puts to flight the wild beasts and the shepherds.

      Mine eyes he loosed, and said: "Direct the nerve

       Of vision now along that ancient foam,

       There yonder where that smoke is most intense."

      Even as the frogs before the hostile serpent

       Across the water scatter all abroad,

       Until each one is huddled in the earth.

      More than a thousand ruined souls I saw,

       Thus fleeing from before one who on foot

       Was passing o'er the Styx with soles unwet.

      From off his face he fanned that unctuous air,

       Waving his left hand oft in front of him,

       And only with that anguish seemed he weary.

      Well

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