(2) My Guide descended down into the boat, And then he made me enter after him, And only when I entered seemed it laden. Soon as the Guide and I were in the boat, The antique prow goes on its way, dividing More of the water than 'tis wont with others. While we were running through the dead canal, Uprose in front of me one full of mire, And said, "Who 'rt thou that comest ere the hour?" And I to him: "Although I come, I stay not; But who art thou that hast become so squalid?" "Thou seest that I am one who weeps," he answered. And I to him: "With weeping and with wailing, Thou spirit maledict, do thou remain; For thee I know, though thou art all defiled." Then stretched he both his hands unto the boat; Whereat my wary Master thrust him back, Saying, "Away there with the other dogs!" Thereafter with his arms he clasped my neck; He kissed my face, and said: "Disdainful soul, Blessed be she who bore thee in her bosom. That was an arrogant person in the world; Goodness is none, that decks his memory; So likewise here his shade is furious.

(4) That I may know who these are, and what law Makes them appear so ready to pass over, As I discern athwart the dusky light." And he to me: "These things shall all be known To thee, as soon as we our footsteps stay Upon the dismal shore of Acheron." Then with mine eyes ashamed and downward cast, Fearing my words might irksome be to him, From speech refrained I till we reached the river. And lo! towards us coming in a boat An old man, hoary with the hair of eld, Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved! Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens; I come to lead you to the other shore, To the eternal shades in heat and frost. And thou, that yonder standest, living soul, Withdraw thee from these people, who are dead!" But when he saw that I did not withdraw, He said: "By other ways, by other ports Thou to the shore shalt come, not here, for passage; A lighter vessel needs must carry thee." And unto him the Guide: "Vex thee not, Charon; It is so willed there where is power to do That which is willed; and farther question not."

(1) O thou who art devoid of moisture in coming forth from the stream; and who restest upon the deck of thy Bark: as thou proceedest in the direction of Yesterday, and restest upon the deck of thy Bark, let me join thy boatmen

(15) Hail, N. , thy figure is that which thou hadst on earth, thou art living and renewed every day. Thy face is unveiled, and thou seest the lord of the horizon; he gives bread to N. at his hour of the day and at his appointed time in the night. Horus has avenged thee, he has smashed the jawbones of thy enemies, he has smitten the violent one at the door of his fortress

(1) At that time also, when he was journeying from Sybaris to Crotona, he met near the shore with some fishermen, who were then drawing their nets heavily laden with fishes from the deep, and told them he knew the exact number of the fish they had caught. But the fishermen promising they would perform whatever he should order them to do, if the event corresponded with his prediction, he ordered them, after they had accurately numbered the fish, to return them alive to the sea: and what is yet more wonderful, not one of the fish died while he stood on the shore, though they had been detained from the water a considerable time. Having therefore paid the fishermen the price of their fish, he departed for Crotona.

But they every where divulged the fact, and having learnt his name from some children, they told it to all men. Hence those that heard of this affair were desirous of seeing the stranger, and what they desired was easily obtained. But they were astonished on surveying his countenance, and conjectured him to be such a man as he was in reality. A few days also after this, he entered the Gymnasium, and being surrounded with a crowd of young men, he is said to have delivered an oration to them, in which he incited them to pay attention to their elders, evincing that in the world, in life, in cities, and in nature, that which has a precedency is more honorable than that which is consequent in time.

As for instance, that the east is more honorable than the west; the morning than the evening; the beginning than the end; and generation than corruption. In a similar manner he observed, that natives were more honorable than strangers, and the leaders of colonies than the builders of cities: and universally Gods than dæmons; dæmons than demigods; and heroes than men. Of these likewise he observed, that the authors of generation are more honorable than their progeny. He said these things, however, for the sake of proving by induction, that children should very much esteem their parents, to whom he asserted they owed as many thanks as a dead man would owe to him who should be able to bring him back again into light.

Afterwards, he observed, that it was indeed just to love those above all others, and never to give them pain, who first benefited us, and in the greatest degree. But parents alone benefit their children prior to their birth, and are the causes to their offspring of all their upright conduct; and that when children show themselves to be in no respect inferior to their parents in beneficence towards them, it is not possible for them in this respect to err. For it is reasonable to suppose, that the Gods will pardon those who honor their parent in no less a degree than the divinities themselves; since we learnt from our parents to honor divinity. Hence Homer also added the same appellation to the king of the Gods; for he denominates him the father of Gods and mortals.

Many other mythologists also have delivered to us, that the kings of the Gods have been ambitious to vindicate to themselves that excessive love which subsists through marriage, in children towards their parents. And that on this account, they have at the same time introduced the hypothesis of father and mother among the Gods, the former indeed generating Minerva, but the latter Vulcan, who are of a nature contrary to each other, in order that what is most remote may participate of friendship.

(18) And he came to a well of water, and he said to his young men, " Abide ye here with the ass, and I and the lad shall go (yonder), and when we have worshipped we shall come again to you."

(1) Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke, I with that heavy-laden soul went on, As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted; But when he said, "Leave him, and onward pass, For here 'tis good that with the sail and oars, As much as may be, each push on his barque;" Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts Remained within me downcast and abashed. I had moved on, and followed willingly The footsteps of my Master, and we both Already showed how light of foot we were, When unto me he said: "Cast down thine eyes; 'Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way, To look upon the bed beneath thy feet." As, that some memory may exist of them, Above the buried dead their tombs in earth Bear sculptured on them what they were before; Whence often there we weep for them afresh, From pricking of remembrance, which alone To the compassionate doth set its spur; So saw I there, but of a better semblance In point of artifice, with figures covered Whate'er as pathway from the mount projects.

(5) For 'twere not fitting that the eye o'ercast By any mist should go before the first Angel, who is of those of Paradise. This little island round about its base Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it, Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze; No other plant that putteth forth the leaf, Or that doth indurate, can there have life, Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks. Thereafter be not this way your return; The sun, which now is rising, will direct you To take the mount by easier ascent." With this he vanished; and I raised me up Without a word, and wholly drew myself Unto my Guide, and turned mine eyes to him. And he began: "Son, follow thou my steps; Let us turn back, for on this side declines The plain unto its lower boundaries." The dawn was vanquishing the matin hour Which fled before it, so that from afar I recognised the trembling of the sea. Along the solitary plain we went As one who unto the lost road returns, And till he finds it seems to go in vain.

(3) Oh thou who art clouded, but manful, and who sailest round over that chine of Âpepi; thou of firm head and steadfast breast when coming forth from the fiery blows: Oh thou who art at the ship, let me sail the ship, let me fasten my tackle and come forth

(5) For of a righteous will his own is made. He, sooth to say, for three months past has taken Whoever wished to enter with all peace; Whence I, who now had turned unto that shore Where salt the waters of the Tiber grow, Benignantly by him have been received. Unto that outlet now his wing is pointed, Because for evermore assemble there Those who tow'rds Acheron do not descend." And I: "If some new law take not from thee Memory or practice of the song of love, Which used to quiet in me all my longings, Thee may it please to comfort therewithal Somewhat this soul of mine, that with its body Hitherward coming is so much distressed." "Love, that within my mind discourses with me," Forthwith began he so melodiously, The melody within me still is sounding. My Master, and myself, and all that people Which with him were, appeared as satisfied As if naught else might touch the mind of any. We all of us were moveless and attentive Unto his notes; and lo! the grave old man, Exclaiming: "What is this, ye laggard spirits?

(5) Now, at the close of day he turneth down his eyes to Rā; for there cometh a standing still in the Bark and a deep slumber within the ship. And now he swalloweth three cubits of the Great Water

(67) But those waters shall in those days serve for the kings and the mighty and the exalted, and those who dwell on the earth, for the healing of the body, but for the punishment of the spirit; now their spirit is full of lust, that they may be punished in their body, for they have denied the Lord of Spirits and see their punishment daily, and yet believe not in His name.

(2) Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt, Things did he hear, which the occasion were Both of his victory and the papal mantle. Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel, To bring back comfort thence unto that Faith, Which of salvation's way is the beginning. But I, why thither come, or who concedes it? I not Aeneas am, I am not Paul, Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it. Therefore, if I resign myself to come, I fear the coming may be ill-advised; Thou'rt wise, and knowest better than I speak." And as he is, who unwills what he willed, And by new thoughts doth his intention change, So that from his design he quite withdraws, Such I became, upon that dark hillside, Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise, Which was so very prompt in the beginning. "If I have well thy language understood," Replied that shade of the Magnanimous, "Thy soul attainted is with cowardice, Which many times a man encumbers so, It turns him back from honoured enterprise, As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy.

(1) Hail to thee who shinest as living soul, and who appearest on the horizon, N. who is in the boat knows thee; he knows thy name, he knows the names of the seven cows and of their bull; they give bread and drink to the glorified soul. You who give sustenance to the inhabitants of the West, give bread and drink to the soul of N. , grant that he may be your follower, and be between your thighs

(1) O Ye, who in some pretty little boat, Eager to listen, have been following Behind my ship, that singing sails along, Turn back to look again upon your shores; Do not put out to sea, lest peradventure, In losing me, you might yourselves be lost. The sea I sail has never yet been passed; Minerva breathes, and pilots me Apollo, And Muses nine point out to me the Bears. Ye other few who have the neck uplifted Betimes to th' bread of Angels upon which One liveth here and grows not sated by it, Well may you launch upon the deep salt-sea Your vessel, keeping still my wake before you Upon the water that grows smooth again. Those glorious ones who unto Colchos passed Were not so wonder-struck as you shall be, When Jason they beheld a ploughman made! The con-created and perpetual thirst For the realm deiform did bear us on, As swift almost as ye the heavens behold. Upward gazed Beatrice, and I at her; And in such space perchance as strikes a bolt And flies, and from the notch unlocks itself,

(1) To run o'er better waters hoists its sail The little vessel of my genius now, That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel; And of that second kingdom will I sing Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself, And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy. But let dead Poesy here rise again, O holy Muses, since that I am yours, And here Calliope somewhat ascend, My song accompanying with that sound, Of which the miserable magpies felt The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon. Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire, That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect Of the pure air, as far as the first circle, Unto mine eyes did recommence delight Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast. The beauteous planet, that to love incites, Was making all the orient to laugh, Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort. To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind Upon the other pole, and saw four stars Ne'er seen before save by the primal people.

(2) Hail to thee, venerable god, great and beneficent prince of eternity, in his abode in the Sektit boat. Acclamations are given him in the sky and on earth; he is exalted by the past and present. Great is the fear he inspires in the hearts of men, of the Glorified and of the dead. His soul was given him in Tattu, his might in Heracleopolis, his image in Heliopolis, and his power over forms in the double sanctuary

(5) Sometimes an animal, when covered, struggles So that his impulse needs must be apparent, By reason of the wrappage following it; And in like manner the primeval soul Made clear to me athwart its covering How jubilant it was to give me pleasure. Then breathed: "Without thy uttering it to me, Thine inclination better I discern Than thou whatever thing is surest to thee; For I behold it in the truthful mirror, That of Himself all things parhelion makes, And none makes Him parhelion of itself. Thou fain wouldst hear how long ago God placed me Within the lofty garden, where this Lady Unto so long a stairway thee disposed. And how long to mine eyes it was a pleasure, And of the great disdain the proper cause, And the language that I used and that I made. Now, son of mine, the tasting of the tree Not in itself was cause of so great exile, But solely the o'erstepping of the bounds. There, whence thy Lady moved Virgilius, Four thousand and three hundred and two circuits Made by the sun, this Council I desired;

(2) Her mouth was not yet closed again, before Appeared a Lady saintly and alert Close at my side to put her to confusion. "Virgilius, O Virgilius! who is this?" Sternly she said; and he was drawing near With eyes still fixed upon that modest one. She seized the other and in front laid open, Rending her garments, and her belly showed me; This waked me with the stench that issued from it. I turned mine eyes, and good Virgilius said: "At least thrice have I called thee; rise and come; Find we the opening by which thou mayst enter." I rose; and full already of high day Were all the circles of the Sacred Mountain, And with the new sun at our back we went. Following behind him, I my forehead bore Like unto one who has it laden with thought, Who makes himself the half arch of a bridge, When I heard say, "Come, here the passage is," Spoken in a manner gentle and benign, Such as we hear not in this mortal region. With open wings, which of a swan appeared, Upward he turned us who thus spake to us, Between the two walls of the solid granite.

(1) I had already from those shades departed, And followed in the footsteps of my Guide, When from behind, pointing his finger at me, One shouted: "See, it seems as if shone not The sunshine on the left of him below, And like one living seems he to conduct him." Mine eyes I turned at utterance of these words, And saw them watching with astonishment But me, but me, and the light which was broken! "Why doth thy mind so occupy itself," The Master said, "that thou thy pace dost slacken? What matters it to thee what here is whispered? Come after me, and let the people talk; Stand like a steadfast tower, that never wags Its top for all the blowing of the winds; For evermore the man in whom is springing Thought upon thought, removes from him the mark, Because the force of one the other weakens." What could I say in answer but "I come"? I said it somewhat with that colour tinged Which makes a man of pardon sometimes worthy. Meanwhile along the mountain-side across Came people in advance of us a little, Singing the Miserere verse by verse.