(2) Exhaling, break within me the great fast Which a long season has in hunger held me, Not finding for it any food on earth. Well do I know, that if in heaven its mirror Justice Divine another realm doth make, Yours apprehends it not through any veil. You know how I attentively address me To listen; and you know what is the doubt That is in me so very old a fast." Even as a falcon, issuing from his hood, Doth move his head, and with his wings applaud him, Showing desire, and making himself fine, Saw I become that standard, which of lauds Was interwoven of the grace divine, With such songs as he knows who there rejoices. Then it began: "He who a compass turned On the world's outer verge, and who within it Devised so much occult and manifest, Could not the impress of his power so make On all the universe, as that his Word Should not remain in infinite excess. And this makes certain that the first proud being, Who was the paragon of every creature, By not awaiting light fell immature.

(1) PRAISE to the Holy Creator, who has placed his throne upon the waters, and who has made all terrestrial creatures. To the Heavens he has given dominion and to the Earth dependence; to the Heavens he has given movement, and to the Earth uniform repose.

(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) Now follow me, and mind thou do not place As yet thy feet upon the burning sand, But always keep them close unto the wood." Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes Forth from the wood a little rivulet, Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end. As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet, The sinful women later share among them, So downward through the sand it went its way. The bottom of it, and both sloping banks, Were made of stone, and the margins at the side; Whence I perceived that there the passage was. "In all the rest which I have shown to thee Since we have entered in within the gate Whose threshold unto no one is denied, Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes So notable as is the present river, Which all the little flames above it quenches." These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him That he would give me largess of the food, For which he had given me largess of desire. "In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land," Said he thereafterward, "whose name is Crete, Under whose king the world of old was chaste.

(2) Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven. O thou septentrional and widowed site, Because thou art deprived of seeing these! When from regarding them I had withdrawn, Turning a little to the other pole, There where the Wain had disappeared already, I saw beside me an old man alone, Worthy of so much reverence in his look, That more owes not to father any son. A long beard and with white hair intermingled He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses, Of which a double list fell on his breast. The rays of the four consecrated stars Did so adorn his countenance with light, That him I saw as were the sun before him. "Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river, Have fled away from the eternal prison?" Moving those venerable plumes, he said: "Who guided you? or who has been your lamp In issuing forth out of the night profound, That ever black makes the infernal valley? The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken? Or is there changed in heaven some council new, That being damned ye come unto my crags?"

(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) I was as one who still retains the feeling Of a forgotten vision, and endeavours In vain to bring it back into his mind, When I this invitation heard, deserving Of so much gratitude, it never fades Out of the book that chronicles the past. If at this moment sounded all the tongues That Polyhymnia and her sisters made Most lubrical with their delicious milk, To aid me, to a thousandth of the truth It would not reach, singing the holy smile And how the holy aspect it illumed. And therefore, representing Paradise, The sacred poem must perforce leap over, Even as a man who finds his way cut off; But whoso thinketh of the ponderous theme, And of the mortal shoulder laden with it, Should blame it not, if under this it tremble. It is no passage for a little boat This which goes cleaving the audacious prow, Nor for a pilot who would spare himself. "Why doth my face so much enamour thee, That to the garden fair thou turnest not, Which under the rays of Christ is blossoming?

(17) Where in your measured verse I will declare aloud (the praises), not in unmeasured lines, Gâmâspa Hvôgva! but songs of homage (will I weave) with ever gained Obedience in offering. (And unto Mazda) will I chant them, yea, to Him who will discern aright what things are lawful (or) unlawful (which I thus do, or utter), and with His wonder-working thoughts of Righteousness (attend).

(4) My temples throbbed(?)... He gave me water to drink from his waterskin." "My friend, the god to whom we go is not the wild bull? He is totally different? The wild bull that you saw is Shamash, the protector, in difficulties he holds our hand. The one who gave you water to drink from his waterskin is your personal) god, who brings honor to you, Lugalbanda. We should join together and do one thing, a deed such as has never (before) been done in the land. At twenty leagues they broke for some food, at thirty leagues they stopped for the night, walking fifty leagues in a whole day, a walk of a month and a half. They dug a well facing Shamash, Gilgamesh climbed up a mountain peak, made a libation of flour, and said: "Mountain, bring me a dream, a favorable message from Shamash.

(2) At the third watch the disk of the sun sends out shining rays. On the water blows the wind of gentleness. Wandering in Heaven, one eats the spirit-power of the receptive. And the deeper secret within the secret: The land that is nowhere, that is the true home....

(9) Salutations, O Excellent Pheasant! You see that which is far off, and you perceive the heart's source immersed in the ocean of ligh'- while you remain in the pit of darkness and the prison of uncertainty. Lift yourself from the pit and raise your head to the divine throne.

(6) I think in sooth that it my Leader pleased, With such contented lip he listened ever Unto the sound of the true words expressed. Therefore with both his arms he took me up, And when he had me all upon his breast, Remounted by the way where he descended. Nor did he tire to have me clasped to him; But bore me to the summit of the arch Which from the fourth dike to the fifth is passage. There tenderly he laid his burden down, Tenderly on the crag uneven and steep, That would have been hard passage for the goats: Thence was unveiled to me another valley.

(1) The glory of Him who moveth everything Doth penetrate the universe, and shine In one part more and in another less. Within that heaven which most his light receives Was I, and things beheld which to repeat Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends; Because in drawing near to its desire Our intellect ingulphs itself so far, That after it the memory cannot go. Truly whatever of the holy realm I had the power to treasure in my mind Shall now become the subject of my song. O good Apollo, for this last emprise Make of me such a vessel of thy power As giving the beloved laurel asks! One summit of Parnassus hitherto Has been enough for me, but now with both I needs must enter the arena left. Enter into my bosom, thou, and breathe As at the time when Marsyas thou didst draw Out of the scabbard of those limbs of his. O power divine, lend'st thou thyself to me So that the shadow of the blessed realm Stamped in my brain I can make manifest,

(20) But serve ye the Most High God, and worship Him continually : And hope for His countenance always, And work uprightness and righteousness before Him, That He may have pleasure in you and grant you His mercy, And send rain upon you morning and evening, And bless all your works which ye have wrought upon the earth, And bless thy bread and thy water, And bless the fruit of thy womb and the fruit of thy land, And the herds of thy cattle, and the flocks of thy sheep.

(11) Into Thee enter these hosts of gods, and some in fear extol Thee with folded hands. And bands of Rishis and Siddhas exclaim, “May there be peace!” and praise Thee with splendid hymns.

(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.

(6) So I became before that latest fire, While it was said, "Why dost thou daze thyself To see a thing which here hath no existence? Earth in the earth my body is, and shall be With all the others there, until our number With the eternal proposition tallies. With the two garments in the blessed cloister Are the two lights alone that have ascended: And this shalt thou take back into your world." And at this utterance the flaming circle Grew quiet, with the dulcet intermingling Of sound that by the trinal breath was made, As to escape from danger or fatigue The oars that erst were in the water beaten Are all suspended at a whistle's sound. Ah, how much in my mind was I disturbed, When I turned round to look on Beatrice, That her I could not see, although I was Close at her side and in the Happy World!

(1) Soon as the blessed flame had taken up The final word to give it utterance, Began the holy millstone to revolve, And in its gyre had not turned wholly round, Before another in a ring enclosed it, And motion joined to motion, song to song; Song that as greatly doth transcend our Muses, Our Sirens, in those dulcet clarions, As primal splendour that which is reflected. And as are spanned athwart a tender cloud Two rainbows parallel and like in colour, When Juno to her handmaid gives command, (The one without born of the one within, Like to the speaking of that vagrant one Whom love consumed as doth the sun the vapours,) And make the people here, through covenant God set with Noah, presageful of the world That shall no more be covered with a flood, In such wise of those sempiternal roses The garlands twain encompassed us about, And thus the outer to the inner answered. After the dance, and other grand rejoicings, Both of the singing, and the flaming forth Effulgence with effulgence blithe and tender,

(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.

(6) His sluggish attitude and his curt words A little unto laughter moved my lips; Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort? Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?" And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing? Since to my torment would not let me go The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate. First heaven must needs so long revolve me round Outside thereof, as in my life it did, Since the good sighs I to the end postponed, Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid Which rises from a heart that lives in grace; What profit others that in heaven are heard not?" Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting, And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched Meridian, and from the shore the night Covers already with her foot Morocco."