(6) Did we think rightly, we should feel obliged to those who have afforded the means for speedy departure, if it is for love that we bear witness; and if not, we should appear to the multitude to be base men. Had they also known the truth, all would have bounded on to the way, and there would have been no choice. But our faith, being the light of the world, reproves unbelief. "Should Anytus and Melitus kill me, they will not hurt me in the least; for I do not think it right for the better to be hurt by the worse," [says Socrates]. So that each one of us may with confidence say, "The Lord is my helper; I will not fear: what shall man do to me?" "For the souls of the righteous are in the hand of the Lord, and no plague shall touch them."

(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."

(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;

(90) There is no suffering for him who has finished his journey, and abandoned grief, who has freed himself on all sides, and thrown off all fetters.

(24) Now comes the question of the soul leaving the body; where does it go?

It cannot remain in this world where there is no natural recipient for it; and it cannot remain attached to anything not of a character to hold it: it can be held here when only it is less than wise, containing within itself something of that which lures it.

If it does contain any such alien element it gives itself, with increasing attachment, to the sphere to which that element naturally belongs and tends.

The space open to the soul's resort is vast and diverse; the difference will come by the double force of the individual condition and of the justice reigning in things. No one can ever escape the suffering entailed by ill deeds done: the divine law is ineluctable, carrying bound up, as one with it, the fore-ordained execution of its doom. The sufferer, all unaware, is swept onward towards his due, hurried always by the restless driving of his errors, until at last wearied out by that against which he struggled, he falls into his fit place and, by self-chosen movement, is brought to the lot he never chose. And the law decrees, also, the intensity and the duration of the suffering while it carries with it, too, the lifting of chastisement and the faculty of rising from those places of pain- all by power of the harmony that maintains the universal scheme.

Souls, body-bound, are apt to body-punishment; clean souls no longer drawing to themselves at any point any vestige of body are, by their very being, outside the bodily sphere; body-free, containing nothing of body- there where Essence is, and Being, and the Divine within the Divinity, among Those, within That, such a soul must be.

If you still ask Where, you must ask where those Beings are- and in your seeking, seek otherwise than with the sight, and not as one seeking for body.

(5) Yet would I not thy neighbours thou shouldst envy, Because thy life into the future reaches Beyond the punishment of their perfidies." When by its silence showed that sainted soul That it had finished putting in the woof Into that web which I had given it warped, Began I, even as he who yearneth after, Being in doubt, some counsel from a person Who seeth, and uprightly wills, and loves: "Well see I, father mine, how spurreth on The time towards me such a blow to deal me As heaviest is to him who most gives way. Therefore with foresight it is well I arm me, That, if the dearest place be taken from me, I may not lose the others by my songs. Down through the world of infinite bitterness, And o'er the mountain, from whose beauteous summit The eyes of my own Lady lifted me, And afterward through heaven from light to light, I have learned that which, if I tell again, Will be a savour of strong herbs to many. And if I am a timid friend to truth, I fear lest I may lose my life with those Who will hereafter call this time the olden."

(73) Only Man (who is proceeded out of another Principle) has in both those [forementioned] Principles, Woe, Misery, Sorrow, and Distress; for he is not in his native Country; and none of these two Principles can attain his native Country. Therefore the poor Soul must be thus plagued and tormented, that it may attain its native Country again; it must go again through the Gate of the deep Anguish of Death; it must break through two Kingdoms, and it sticks here between the Door and the Hinges, and is continually infected with those Things which keep it back and plague it; it sticks as it were in a Press.

(5) "O my dear Guide, who more than seven times Hast rendered me security, and drawn me From imminent peril that before me stood, Do not desert me," said I, "thus undone; And if the going farther be denied us, Let us retrace our steps together swiftly." And that Lord, who had led me thitherward, Said unto me: "Fear not; because our passage None can take from us, it by Such is given. But here await me, and thy weary spirit Comfort and nourish with a better hope; For in this nether world I will not leave thee." So onward goes and there abandons me My Father sweet, and I remain in doubt, For No and Yes within my head contend. I could not hear what he proposed to them; But with them there he did not linger long, Ere each within in rivalry ran back. They closed the portals, those our adversaries, On my Lord's breast, who had remained without And turned to me with footsteps far between.

(22) When you pluck up your foot you escape from the mire, When you obtain salvation at God's hands, O wanderer, You are free from the mire, and go your way. When the suckling is weaned from its nurse, You are bound to the bosom of earth like seeds, Eat the words of wisdom, for veiled light When you have accepted the light, O beloved, When you behold what is veiled without a veil, Like a star you will walk upon the heavens; Nay, though not in heaven, you will walk on high.

(49) The sage has no invariable mind of his own; he makes the mind of the people his mind. To those who are good (to me), I am good; and to those who are not good (to me), I am also good;--and thus (all) get to be good. To those who are sincere (with me), I am sincere; and to those who are not sincere (with me), I am also sincere;--and thus (all) get to be sincere. The sage has in the world an appearance of indecision, and keeps his mind in a state of indifference to all. The people all keep their eyes and ears directed to him, and he deals with them all as his children. 50 Men come forth and live; they enter (again) and die. Of every ten three are ministers of life (to themselves); and three are ministers of death. There are also three in every ten whose aim is to live, but whose movements tend to the land (or place) of death. And for what reason? Because of their excessive endeavours to perpetuate life. But I have heard that he who is skilful in managing the life entrusted to him for a time travels on the land without having to shun rhinoceros or tiger, and enters a host without having to avoid buff coat or sharp weapon. The rhinoceros finds no place in him into which to thrust its horn, nor the tiger a place in which to fix its claws, nor the weapon a place to admit its point. And for what reason? Because there is in him no place of death.

(132) But the wisdom of God prevents this speedy end, He says, "O parts, the appointed time is not yet; It is useless for you to take wing before that day." But as each part desires reunion with its original, How is it with the soul who is a stranger in exile? It says, "O parts of my habitation here below, My absence is sadder than yours, as I am heaven-born. The body loves green pastures and running water, The love of the soul is for life and the living one, The love of the soul is for wisdom and knowledge,

(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.

(174) This world is dark, few only can see here; a few only go to heaven, like birds escaped from the net.

(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) After the Valley of Unity comes the Valley of Astonishment and Bewilderment, where one is a prey to sadness and dejection. There sighs are like swords, and each breath a bitter sigh; there, is sorrow and lamentation, and a burning eagerness. It is at once day and night. There, is fire, yet a man is depressed and despondent. How, in his bewilderment, shall he continue his way? But he who has achieved unity forgets aU and forgets himself. If he is asked: 'Are you, or are you not? Have you or have you not the feeling of existence? Are you in the middle or on the border? Are you mortal or immortal?' he will reply with certainty: 'I know nothing, I understand nothing, I am unaware of myself. I am in love, but with whom I do not know. My heart is at the same time both full and empty of love.'

(22) I write this not for mine own glory, but for a comfort to the Reader, so that if perhaps he be minded to walk with me upon my narrow bridge, he should not suddenly be discouraged, dismayed and distrustful, when the gates of hell and God's wrath meet him, and present themselves before him.

(2) Wise men endowed with equanimity, having abandoned the fruits of action, go to the abode beyond all sorrow and evil.

(12) 'The wise who, by means of meditation on his Self, recognises the Ancient, who is difficult to be seen, who has entered into the dark, who is hidden in the cave, who dwells in the abyss, as God, he indeed leaves joy and sorrow far behind.'

(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.

(3) "Up there above us in the life serene," I answered him, "I lost me in a valley, Or ever yet my age had been completed. But yestermorn I turned my back upon it; This one appeared to me, returning thither, And homeward leadeth me along this road." And he to me: "If thou thy star do follow, Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port, If well I judged in the life beautiful. And if I had not died so prematurely, Seeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee, I would have given thee comfort in the work. But that ungrateful and malignant people, Which of old time from Fesole descended, And smacks still of the mountain and the granite, Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe; And it is right; for among crabbed sorbs It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit. Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind; A people avaricious, envious, proud; Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee. Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee, One party and the other shall be hungry For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.