(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,

(4) But of this water it behoves thee drink Before so great a thirst in thee be slaked." Thus said to me the sunshine of mine eyes; And added: "The river and the topazes Going in and out, and the laughing of the herbage, Are of their truth foreshadowing prefaces; Not that these things are difficult in themselves, But the deficiency is on thy side, For yet thou hast not vision so exalted." There is no babe that leaps so suddenly With face towards the milk, if he awake Much later than his usual custom is, As I did, that I might make better mirrors Still of mine eyes, down stooping to the wave Which flows that we therein be better made. And even as the penthouse of mine eyelids Drank of it, it forthwith appeared to me Out of its length to be transformed to round. Then as a folk who have been under masks Seem other than before, if they divest The semblance not their own they disappeared in, Thus into greater pomp were changed for me The flowerets and the sparks, so that I saw Both of the Courts of Heaven made manifest.

(4) And now I speak to thee, O River, holiest [Stream]! I tell thee what will be. With bloody torrents shalt thou overflow thy banks. Not only shall thy streams divine be stained with blood; but they shall all flow over [with the same]. The tale of tombs shall far exceed the [number of the] quick; and the surviving remnant shall be Egyptians in their tongue alone, but in their actions foreigners. XXV

(561) 1396 ------------------------------------- 1396 command ---------------------------------1397. ------------------------------------- 1398 -------------- of the boat of the evening ---- 1398 ------------------------------------1399. ---------------------------------------1400. Thy face is like --------------------------1401. -------------------------------------1402. --------------------------------------1403. -------------------------------------1404. ---------------------------------------

(2) And lo! my further course a stream cut off, Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. All waters that on earth most limpid are Would seem to have within themselves some mixture Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown current Under the shade perpetual, that never Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon. With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed Beyond the rivulet, to look upon The great variety of the fresh may. And there appeared to me (even as appears Suddenly something that doth turn aside Through very wonder every other thought) A lady all alone, who went along Singing and culling floweret after floweret, With which her pathway was all painted over. "Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks, Which the heart's witnesses are wont to be, May the desire come unto thee to draw Near to this river's bank," I said to her, "So much that I might hear what thou art singing.

(23) "Thou hast sent me, O lord, [to ...] the raging (creatures) 2 of the river

(4) "God seeth all things, and in Him, blest spirit, Thy sight is," said I, "so that never will Of his can possibly from thee be hidden; Thy voice, then, that for ever makes the heavens Glad, with the singing of those holy fires Which of their six wings make themselves a cowl, Wherefore does it not satisfy my longings? Indeed, I would not wait thy questioning If I in thee were as thou art in me." "The greatest of the valleys where the water Expands itself," forthwith its words began, "That sea excepted which the earth engarlands, Between discordant shores against the sun Extends so far, that it meridian makes Where it was wont before to make the horizon. I was a dweller on that valley's shore 'Twixt Ebro and Magra that with journey short Doth from the Tuscan part the Genoese. With the same sunset and same sunrise nearly Sit Buggia and the city whence I was, That with its blood once made the harbour hot. Folco that people called me unto whom My name was known; and now with me this heaven Imprints itself, as I did once with it;

(4) But since I see thee in thine intellect Converted into stone and stained with sin, So that the light of my discourse doth daze thee, I will too, if not written, at least painted, Thou bear it back within thee, for the reason That cinct with palm the pilgrim's staff is borne." And I: "As by a signet is the wax Which does not change the figure stamped upon it, My brain is now imprinted by yourself. But wherefore so beyond my power of sight Soars your desirable discourse, that aye The more I strive, so much the more I lose it?" "That thou mayst recognize," she said, "the school Which thou hast followed, and mayst see how far Its doctrine follows after my discourse, And mayst behold your path from the divine Distant as far as separated is From earth the heaven that highest hastens on." Whence her I answered: "I do not remember That ever I estranged myself from you, Nor have I conscience of it that reproves me." "And if thou art not able to remember," Smiling she answered, "recollect thee now That thou this very day hast drunk of Lethe;

(1) That Sun, which erst with love my bosom warmed, Of beauteous truth had unto me discovered, By proving and reproving, the sweet aspect. And, that I might confess myself convinced And confident, so far as was befitting, I lifted more erect my head to speak. But there appeared a vision, which withdrew me So close to it, in order to be seen, That my confession I remembered not. Such as through polished and transparent glass, Or waters crystalline and undisturbed, But not so deep as that their bed be lost, Come back again the outlines of our faces So feeble, that a pearl on forehead white Comes not less speedily unto our eyes; Such saw I many faces prompt to speak, So that I ran in error opposite To that which kindled love 'twixt man and fountain. As soon as I became aware of them, Esteeming them as mirrored semblances, To see of whom they were, mine eyes I turned, And nothing saw, and once more turned them forward Direct into the light of my sweet Guide, Who smiling kindled in her holy eyes.

(5) And if from smoke a fire may be inferred, Such an oblivion clearly demonstrates Some error in thy will elsewhere intent. Truly from this time forward shall my words Be naked, so far as it is befitting To lay them open unto thy rude gaze." And more coruscant and with slower steps The sun was holding the meridian circle, Which, with the point of view, shifts here and there When halted (as he cometh to a halt, Who goes before a squadron as its escort, If something new he find upon his way) The ladies seven at a dark shadow's edge, Such as, beneath green leaves and branches black, The Alp upon its frigid border wears. In front of them the Tigris and Euphrates Methought I saw forth issue from one fountain, And slowly part, like friends, from one another. "O light, O glory of the human race! What stream is this which here unfolds itself From out one source, and from itself withdraws?"