The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Purgatory, Complete. Dante Alighieri

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The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Purgatory, Complete - Dante Alighieri

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Forth from th' eternal prison-house have fled?"

       He spoke and moved those venerable plumes.

       "Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure

       Lights you emerging from the depth of night,

       That makes the infernal valley ever black?

       Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss

       Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain'd,

       That thus, condemn'd, ye to my caves approach?"

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       My guide, then laying hold on me, by words

       And intimations given with hand and head,

       Made my bent knees and eye submissive pay

       Due reverence; then thus to him replied.

       "Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven

       Descending, had besought me in my charge

       To bring. But since thy will implies, that more

       Our true condition I unfold at large,

       Mine is not to deny thee thy request.

       This mortal ne'er hath seen the farthest gloom.

       But erring by his folly had approach'd

       So near, that little space was left to turn.

       Then, as before I told, I was dispatch'd

       To work his rescue, and no way remain'd

       Save this which I have ta'en. I have display'd

       Before him all the regions of the bad;

       And purpose now those spirits to display,

       That under thy command are purg'd from sin.

       How I have brought him would be long to say.

       From high descends the virtue, by whose aid

       I to thy sight and hearing him have led.

       Now may our coming please thee. In the search

       Of liberty he journeys: that how dear

       They know, who for her sake have life refus'd.

       Thou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet

       In Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds,

       That in the last great day will shine so bright.

       For us the' eternal edicts are unmov'd:

       He breathes, and I am free of Minos' power,

       Abiding in that circle where the eyes

       Of thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look

       Prays thee, O hallow'd spirit! to own her shine.

       Then by her love we' implore thee, let us pass

       Through thy sev'n regions; for which best thanks

       I for thy favour will to her return,

       If mention there below thou not disdain."

       "Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,"

       He then to him rejoin'd, "while I was there,

       That all she ask'd me I was fain to grant.

       Now that beyond the' accursed stream she dwells,

       She may no longer move me, by that law,

       Which was ordain'd me, when I issued thence.

       Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst,

       Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs.

       Enough for me that in her name thou ask.

       Go therefore now: and with a slender reed

       See that thou duly gird him, and his face

       Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence.

       For not with eye, by any cloud obscur'd,

       Would it be seemly before him to come,

       Who stands the foremost minister in heaven.

       This islet all around, there far beneath,

       Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed

       Produces store of reeds. No other plant,

       Cover'd with leaves, or harden'd in its stalk,

       There lives, not bending to the water's sway.

       After, this way return not; but the sun

       Will show you, that now rises, where to take

       The mountain in its easiest ascent."

       He disappear'd; and I myself uprais'd

       Speechless, and to my guide retiring close,

       Toward him turn'd mine eyes. He thus began;

       "My son! observant thou my steps pursue.

       We must retreat to rearward, for that way

       The champain to its low extreme declines."

       The dawn had chas'd the matin hour of prime,

       Which deaf before it, so that from afar

       I spy'd the trembling of the ocean stream.

       We travers'd the deserted plain, as one

       Who, wander'd from his track, thinks every step

       Trodden in vain till he regain the path.

       When we had come, where yet the tender dew

       Strove with the sun, and in a place, where fresh

       The wind breath'd o'er it, while it slowly dried;

       Both hands extended on the watery grass

       My master plac'd, in graceful act and kind.

       Whence I of his intent before appriz'd,

       Stretch'd out to him my cheeks suffus'd with tears.

       There to my visage he anew restor'd

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