(45) While thou livest in this struggling or striving birth or geniture thou must buckle to, and suffer the devil to ride upon thee; but so hard as he striketh thee, so hard thou must strike him again, if thou wilt defend thyself. For when thou tightest against him, thou stirrest up his wrath-fire, and destroyest his nest, and this is then as a great combustion, and as a great strong battle maintained against him.

(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;

(31) In the Originality of Darkness, there is Harshness and Austereness, this Harshness causes that it be light; for Harshness is Desirousness, an Attracting; and that is the first Ground of the Willing [or Longing] after the Light, and yet it is not possible to comprehend it; and the Attracting in the Will is the [Sting or] Prickle, which the Desiring attracts, and the first Stirring [or Moving.] Now the Prickle cannot endure the Attracting in the Will, but resists, flies up, and yet cannot get away from thence; for it is generated in the Attracting. But because it cannot remove from thence, nor can endure the Attracting, therefore there is a great Anguish, a Desiring [or Longing] after the Light, like a Furiousness, and like a breaking whirling Wheel; and the Anguish in the Bitterness rises up in the Wrath after the Light, but cannot get it, being desirous in the Anxiety to lift up itself above the Light, yet does not overcome, but is infected, [impregnated or mingled] with the Light, and attains a twinkling Flash; and as soon as the Harshness, or the Hardness (viz. the Darkness) gets the same into it, it is terrified, and instantly goes away into its Ether: And yet the Darkness continues in the Center. And in this Horror [Terror or Shriek] the Hardness or Harshness becomes mild, soft, [supple,] and thin; and the Flash is made in the Bitterness, which flies up thus in the Prickle: Thus the Prickle discovers itself in the Mother, which so terrifies the Mother with the Flash, that she yields herself to be overcome; and when the Prickle strengthens itself in the Mother, and finds her so mild, then that is much more terrified, and loses its [fierce, strong] wrathful Propriety, and in the Twinkling of an Eye becomes white, clear, and bright, and flies up very joyfully, trembling with great Delight, [Lust] and Desire; and the Mother of Harshness from the Light comes to be sweet, mild, thin, and material, even Water. For she loses not the Essence of the harsh Conditions, and therefore the Essence attracts continually to it out of the Mildness, so that out of the Nothing, Something comes to be, viz. Water.

(122) And though the devil cannot take the light from me, yet he often hideth or eclipseth it with the outward and fleshly birth or geniture, so that the astral birth or geniture is in anxiety, and in a strait, as if it were captivated or imprisoned.

(138) Therefore it must undergo many hard bangs and pinches, and must every day and hour wrestle and struggle with the devil, that is, with the hellish qualities [Or devilish conditions, inclinations, and passions in us] and so it liveth in great danger in this world; therefore this life is very well called the valley of misery, full of anguish, a perpetual hurliburly, pulling and haling, worrying, warring, fighting, struggling and striving.

(46) Now the Will or the Desiring in the Dryness cannot reach the Light; and therein consists the Anguish in the Will [Longing] after the Light; and the Anguish is attractive, and in the Attracting is the Woe, and the Woe makes the Anguish greater, so that the Anguish in the Harshness attracts much more, and this Attracting in the Woe is the bitter [Sting or] Prickle, or the Bitterness of the Woe; and the Anguish reaches after the [Sting or] Prickle with attracting, and yet cannot comprehend it, because it resists, and the more the Anguish attracts, the more the [Sting or] Prickle raves and rages.

(126) Now seeing the outermost birth or geniture in nature is twofold, that is, both evil and good, therefore it is that there is a perpetual tormenting, squeezing, lamenting and howling; and the creatures in this life are subject to torments and afflictions, so that this evil world is justly called a murderous den of the devil.

(80) But when nature kindled itself thus horribly, then the house of joy came to be a house of trouble, affliction and misery. For the astringent quality became kindled in its own house, which is a very hard, cold and dark essence, like a cold, hard frosty winter, which only attracted the Salitter together, and dried it up, so that it became rugged, cold and sharp like stones, wherein the heat was captivated, imprisoned, and also attracted together, and so formed or framed into a hard, cold, dark essence.

(2) And though it is not very good for us to know the austere, earnest, [strong, fierce, severe,] and original Birth, into the Knowledge, Feeling and Comprehensibility of which our first Parents have brought us, through the Infection [Instigation] and Deceit of the Devil, yet we have very great Need of this Knowledge, that thereby we may learn to know the Devil, who dwells in the most strong [severe or cruel] Birth of all, and [that we may learn to know] our own enemy Self, which our first Parents awakened and purchased for us, which we carry within us, and which we ourselves now are.

(1) Broke the deep lethargy within my head A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted, Like to a person who by force is wakened; And round about I moved my rested eyes, Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed, To recognise the place wherein I was. True is it, that upon the verge I found me Of the abysmal valley dolorous, That gathers thunder of infinite ululations. Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous, So that by fixing on its depths my sight Nothing whatever I discerned therein. "Let us descend now into the blind world," Began the Poet, pallid utterly; "I will be first, and thou shalt second be." And I, who of his colour was aware, Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid, Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?" And he to me: "The anguish of the people Who are below here in my face depicts That pity which for terror thou hast taken. Let us go on, for the long way impels us." Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.

(47) And this thou may very well perceive and understand, in extreme heat and cold, as also by the poison, bitterness and sourness in this world; all which stand in the birth or geniture of the stars, wherein the devil lies captive.

(2) And now begin the dolesome notes to grow Audible unto me; now am I come There where much lamentation strikes upon me. I came into a place mute of all light, Which bellows as the sea does in a tempest, If by opposing winds 't is combated. The infernal hurricane that never rests Hurtles the spirits onward in its rapine; Whirling them round, and smiting, it molests them. When they arrive before the precipice, There are the shrieks, the plaints, and the laments, There they blaspheme the puissance divine. I understood that unto such a torment The carnal malefactors were condemned, Who reason subjugate to appetite. And as the wings of starlings bear them on In the cold season in large band and full, So doth that blast the spirits maledict; It hither, thither, downward, upward, drives them; No hope doth comfort them for evermore, Not of repose, but even of lesser pain. And as the cranes go chanting forth their lays, Making in air a long line of themselves, So saw I coming, uttering lamentations,

(1) That hue which cowardice brought out on me, Beholding my Conductor backward turn, Sooner repressed within him his new colour. He stopped attentive, like a man who listens, Because the eye could not conduct him far Through the black air, and through the heavy fog. "Still it behoveth us to win the fight," Began he; "Else. . .Such offered us herself. . . O how I long that some one here arrive!" Well I perceived, as soon as the beginning He covered up with what came afterward, That they were words quite different from the first; But none the less his saying gave me fear, Because I carried out the broken phrase, Perhaps to a worse meaning than he had. "Into this bottom of the doleful conch Doth any e'er descend from the first grade, Which for its pain has only hope cut off?" This question put I; and he answered me: "Seldom it comes to pass that one of us Maketh the journey upon which I go. True is it, once before I here below Was conjured by that pitiless Erictho, Who summoned back the shades unto their bodies.

(3) It goes on falling, and the more it grows, The more it finds the dogs becoming wolves, This maledict and misadventurous ditch. Descended then through many a hollow gulf, It finds the foxes so replete with fraud, They fear no cunning that may master them. Nor will I cease because another hears me; And well 'twill be for him, if still he mind him Of what a truthful spirit to me unravels. Thy grandson I behold, who doth become A hunter of those wolves upon the bank Of the wild stream, and terrifies them all. He sells their flesh, it being yet alive; Thereafter slaughters them like ancient beeves; Many of life, himself of praise, deprives. Blood-stained he issues from the dismal forest; He leaves it such, a thousand years from now In its primeval state 'tis not re-wooded." As at the announcement of impending ills The face of him who listens is disturbed, From whate'er side the peril seize upon him; So I beheld that other soul, which stood Turned round to listen, grow disturbed and sad, When it had gathered to itself the word.

(16) And if the Will be thus in Darkness, then it is in Anguish; for it desires to be out of the Darkness, and that Desiring is the Flowing [or Working,] and the Attracting in itself, where yet nothing is attained but a fierce Source in itself, which by its Attraction makes Hardness and Roughness, which the Will cannot endure, and thus it stirs up the Root of the Fire in the Flash, as is before-mentioned, whereupon the re-comprehended Will goes forth from the Flash, into itself, and 1 breaks the Darkness, and dwells in the broken Darkness, in the Light, in a pleasant [Joy or] Habitation in itself; after which [Joy or] Habitation, the Will (in the Darkness) continually lusts, from whence Longing arises, and thus it is an eternal Band, which can never be loosed; and thus the Will now labours in the broken Gate, that it may manifest or discover his Wonders out of himself, as may be seen well enough in the Creation of the World and all Creatures.

(347) Those who are slaves to passions, run down with the stream (of desires), as a spider runs down the web which he has made himself; when they have cut this, at last, wise people leave the world free from cares, leaving all affection behind.

(9) For the spirit of heat whence the light ariseth (and out of the light, through the water, the love and meekness), could not kindle itself; but there was a birth or geniture of an austere, cold and severe fierceness, which is a drier, a spoiler and an enemy of meekness, and which in the creatures generateth the hard bones.

(3) Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied, Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas, That often upon earth her region shifts; No arid vapour any farther rises Than to the top of the three steps I spake of, Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet. Lower down perchance it trembles less or more, But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden I know not how, up here it never trembled. It trembles here, whenever any soul Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it. Of purity the will alone gives proof, Which, being wholly free to change its convent, Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly. First it wills well; but the desire permits not, Which divine justice with the self-same will There was to sin, upon the torment sets. And I, who have been lying in this pain Five hundred years and more, but just now felt A free volition for a better seat. Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious Spirits along the mountain rendering praise Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards."

(59) But seeing it riseth up so swiftly, that the birth elevateth itself so suddenly, before it be fully affected with the water of life, thereupon that terror or crack keepeth its bitterness which it has out of or from the austere birth; for the beginning or inceptive birth or geniture is very austere, cold, fiery and astringent.

(5) While I delighted me in contemplating The images of such humility, And dear to look on for their Maker's sake, "Behold, upon this side, but rare they make Their steps," the Poet murmured, "many people; These will direct us to the lofty stairs." Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent To see new things, of which they curious are, In turning round towards him were not slow. But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve From thy good purposes, because thou hearest How God ordaineth that the debt be paid; Attend not to the fashion of the torment, Think of what follows; think that at the worst It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence. "Master," began I, "that which I behold Moving towards us seems to me not persons, And what I know not, so in sight I waver." And he to me: "The grievous quality Of this their torment bows them so to earth, That my own eyes at first contended with it; But look there fixedly, and disentangle By sight what cometh underneath those stones; Already canst thou see how each is stricken."