(1) Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a mountain's foot, At that point where the valley terminated, Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, Vested already with that planet's rays Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted That in my heart's lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously. And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns to the water perilous and gazes;

(2) But because she who spinneth day and night For him had not yet drawn the distaff off, Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts, His soul, which is thy sister and my own, In coming upwards could not come alone, By reason that it sees not in our fashion. Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him As far on as my school has power to lead. But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?" In asking he so hit the very eye Of my desire, that merely with the hope My thirst became the less unsatisfied. "Naught is there," he began, "that without order May the religion of the mountain feel, Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom. Free is it here from every permutation; What from itself heaven in itself receiveth Can be of this the cause, and naught beside; Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow, Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls Than the short, little stairway of three steps.

(3) 'Twixt Lerici and Turbia, the most desert, The most secluded pathway is a stair Easy and open, if compared with that. "Who knoweth now upon which hand the hill Slopes down," my Master said, his footsteps staying, "So that who goeth without wings may mount?" And while he held his eyes upon the ground Examining the nature of the path, And I was looking up around the rock, On the left hand appeared to me a throng Of souls, that moved their feet in our direction, And did not seem to move, they came so slowly. "Lift up thine eyes," I to the Master said; "Behold, on this side, who will give us counsel, If thou of thine own self can have it not." Then he looked at me, and with frank expression Replied: "Let us go there, for they come slowly, And thou be steadfast in thy hope, sweet son." Still was that people as far off from us, After a thousand steps of ours I say, As a good thrower with his hand would reach, When they all crowded unto the hard masses Of the high bank, and motionless stood and close, As he stands still to look who goes in doubt.

(3) "How is this?" was the answer; "should one wish To mount by night would he prevented be By others? or mayhap would not have power?" And on the ground the good Sordello drew His finger, saying, "See, this line alone Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone; Not that aught else would hindrance give, however, To going up, save the nocturnal darkness; This with the want of power the will perplexes. We might indeed therewith return below, And, wandering, walk the hill-side round about, While the horizon holds the day imprisoned." Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said: "Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest That we can take delight in tarrying." Little had we withdrawn us from that place, When I perceived the mount was hollowed out In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed. "Thitherward," said that shade, "will we repair, Where of itself the hill-side makes a lap, And there for the new day will we await." 'Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path Which led us to the margin of that dell, Where dies the border more than half away.

(4) Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass This on one side, when that upon the other, If thine intelligence right clearly heed." "Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet Saw I so clearly as I now discern, There where my wit appeared incompetent, That the mid-circle of supernal motion, Which in some art is the Equator called, And aye remains between the Sun and Winter, For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat. But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn How far we have to go; for the hill rises Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise." And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome, And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts. Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, That going up shall be to thee as easy As going down the current in a boat, Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be; There to repose thy panting breath expect; No more I answer; and this I know for true."

(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.

(1) Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight Had scattered them asunder o'er the plain, Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us, I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade, And how without him had I kept my course? Who would have led me up along the mountain? He seemed to me within himself remorseful; O noble conscience, and without a stain, How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee! After his feet had laid aside the haste Which mars the dignity of every act, My mind, that hitherto had been restrained, Let loose its faculties as if delighted, And I my sight directed to the hill That highest tow'rds the heaven uplifts itself. The sun, that in our rear was flaming red, Was broken in front of me into the figure Which had in me the stoppage of its rays; Unto one side I turned me, with the fear Of being left alone, when I beheld Only in front of me the ground obscured. "Why dost thou still mistrust?" my Comforter Began to say to me turned wholly round; "Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee?

(3) And close to me approached, even as before, The very same who had entreated me, Attent to listen in their countenance. I, who their inclination twice had seen, Began: "O souls secure in the possession, Whene'er it may be, of a state of peace, Neither unripe nor ripened have remained My members upon earth, but here are with me With their own blood and their articulations. I go up here to be no longer blind; A Lady is above, who wins this grace, Whereby the mortal through your world I bring. But as your greatest longing satisfied May soon become, so that the Heaven may house you Which full of love is, and most amply spreads, Tell me, that I again in books may write it, Who are you, and what is that multitude Which goes upon its way behind your backs?" Not otherwise with wonder is bewildered The mountaineer, and staring round is dumb, When rough and rustic to the town he goes, Than every shade became in its appearance; But when they of their stupor were disburdened, Which in high hearts is quickly quieted,

(1) "Through me the way is to the city dolent; Through me the way is to eternal dole; Through me the way among the people lost. Justice incited my sublime Creator; Created me divine Omnipotence, The highest Wisdom and the primal Love. Before me there were no created things, Only eterne, and I eternal last. All hope abandon, ye who enter in!" These words in sombre colour I beheld Written upon the summit of a gate; Whence I: "Their sense is, Master, hard to me!" And he to me, as one experienced: "Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned, All cowardice must needs be here extinct. We to the place have come, where I have told thee Thou shalt behold the people dolorous Who have foregone the good of intellect." And after he had laid his hand on mine With joyful mien, whence I was comforted, He led me in among the secret things. There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud Resounded through the air without a star, Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.

(2) "And if I lead you into the region of the rulers of the Fate, then will ye see the glory in which they are, and because of their overtowering great glory ye will deem this world before you as darkness of darknesses, and ye will look at the whole world of men, how it will have the condition of a speck of dust for you because of the great distance it is far distant from it, and because of the great condition it is considerably greater than it.

(2) ’Twixt Heaven and Earth, upon the waves of Cosmos, is it dragged in contrary directions, for ever racked with ceaseless pains ; so that in this its deathless nature doth afflict the soul, in that because of its unceasing sense, it hath the yoke of ceaseless torture set upon its neck. Know, then, that we should dread, and be afraid, and [ever] be upon our guard, lest we should be entangled in these [toils]. For those who do not now believe, will after their misdeeds be driven to believe, by facts not words, by actual sufferings of punishment and not by threats.

(1) We were upon the summit of the stairs, Where for the second time is cut away The mountain, which ascending shriveth all. There in like manner doth a cornice bind The hill all round about, as does the first, Save that its arc more suddenly is curved. Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears; So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth, With but the livid colour of the stone. "If to inquire we wait for people here," The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure Too much delay will our election have." Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed, Made his right side the centre of his motion, And turned the left part of himself about. "O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us," Said he, "as one within here should be led. Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it; If other reason prompt not otherwise, Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!" As much as here is counted for a mile, So much already there had we advanced In little time, by dint of ready will;

(40) At the beginning of the centuries God used the mountains as nails to fix the Earth; and washed Earth's face with the water of Ocean. Then he placed Earth on the back of a bull, the bull on a fish, and the fish on the air. But on what rested the air? On nothing. But nothing is nothing - and all that is nothing. Admire then, the works of the Lord, though he himself considers them as nothing. And seeing that His Essence alone exists it is certain there is nothing but Him. His throne is on the waters and the world is in the air. But leave the waters and the air, for all is God: the throne and the world are only a talisman. God is all, and things have only a nominal value; the world visible and the world invisible are only Himself.

(2) I stood as one who in himself represses The point of his desire, and ventures not To question, he so feareth the too much. And now the largest and most luculent Among those pearls came forward, that it might Make my desire concerning it content. Within it then I heard: "If thou couldst see Even as myself the charity that burns Among us, thy conceits would be expressed; But, that by waiting thou mayst not come late To the high end, I will make answer even Unto the thought of which thou art so chary. That mountain on whose slope Cassino stands Was frequented of old upon its summit By a deluded folk and ill-disposed; And I am he who first up thither bore The name of Him who brought upon the earth The truth that so much sublimateth us. And such abundant grace upon me shone That all the neighbouring towns I drew away From the impious worship that seduced the world. These other fires, each one of them, were men Contemplative, enkindled by that heat Which maketh holy flowers and fruits spring up.

(2) And even as he who acts and meditates, For aye it seems that he provides beforehand, So upward lifting me towards the summit Of a huge rock, he scanned another crag, Saying: "To that one grapple afterwards, But try first if 'tis such that it will hold thee." This was no way for one clothed with a cloak; For hardly we, he light, and I pushed upward, Were able to ascend from jag to jag. And had it not been, that upon that precinct Shorter was the ascent than on the other, He I know not, but I had been dead beat. But because Malebolge tow'rds the mouth Of the profoundest well is all inclining, The structure of each valley doth import That one bank rises and the other sinks. Still we arrived at length upon the point Wherefrom the last stone breaks itself asunder. The breath was from my lungs so milked away, When I was up, that I could go no farther, Nay, I sat down upon my first arrival. "Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth," My Master said; "for sitting upon down, Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame,

(5) He led us on to where the rock was cleft; There smote upon my forehead with his wings, Then a safe passage promised unto me. As on the right hand, to ascend the mount Where seated is the church that lordeth it O'er the well-guided, above Rubaconte, The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken By stairways that were made there in the age When still were safe the ledger and the stave, E'en thus attempered is the bank which falls Sheer downward from the second circle there; But on this, side and that the high rock graze. As we were turning thitherward our persons, "Beati pauperes spiritu," voices Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not. Ah me! how different are these entrances From the Infernal! for with anthems here One enters, and below with wild laments. We now were hunting up the sacred stairs, And it appeared to me by far more easy Than on the plain it had appeared before. Whence I: "My Master, say, what heavy thing Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?"

(3) Withouten which whoso his life consumes Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth, As smoke in air or in the water foam. And therefore raise thee up, o'ercome the anguish With spirit that o'ercometh every battle, If with its heavy body it sink not. A longer stairway it behoves thee mount; 'Tis not enough from these to have departed; Let it avail thee, if thou understand me." Then I uprose, showing myself provided Better with breath than I did feel myself, And said: "Go on, for I am strong and bold." Upward we took our way along the crag, Which jagged was, and narrow, and difficult, And more precipitous far than that before. Speaking I went, not to appear exhausted; Whereat a voice from the next moat came forth, Not well adapted to articulate words. I know not what it said, though o'er the back I now was of the arch that passes there; But he seemed moved to anger who was speaking. I was bent downward, but my living eyes Could not attain the bottom, for the dark; Wherefore I: "Master, see that thou arrive

(53) And these mountains shall not stand as the earth before his righteousness, But the hills shall be as a fountain of water, And the righteous shall have rest from the oppression of sinners.'

(144) Direct not thy mind to the vast surfaces of the Earth; for the Plant of Truth grows not upon the ground. Nor measure the motions of the Sun, collecting rules, for he is carded by the Eternal Will of the Father,. and not for your sake alone. Dismiss (from your mind) the impetuous course of the Moon, for she moveth always by the power of necessity. The progression of the Stars was not generated for your sake. The wide aërial flight of birds gives no true knowledge nor the dissection of the entrails of victims; they are all mere toys, the basis of mercenary fraud:, flee from these if you would enter the sacred paradise of piety, where Virtue, Wisdom, and Equity are assembled.

(53) And then when the poor Soul shall travel [Home,] there are great Mountains in its Way; and then thy fair Tincture will appear before the [holy] Element like a defiled Cloth; and there stands the Devil and reads the Law to you about it; and then the poor Soul quakes, and begins to doubt; and when it is to break through the bitter Gate [of the Cherubim,] then it continually fears that the fierce Anger of God shall seize upon it, [as upon hellish Brimstone,] and kindle it; as it comes to pass for certain, if it be not born anew in Christ, through earnest Repentance.