The Divine Comedy

Canto XXVI

Florence exult! for thou so mightilyHast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wingsThou beatest, and thy name spreads over hell!Among the plund'rers such the three I foundThy citizens, whence shame to me thy son,And no proud honour to thyself redounds.But if our minds, when dreaming near the dawn,Are of the truth presageful, thou ere longShalt feel what Prato, (not to say the rest)Would fain might come upon thee; and that chanceWere in good time, if it befell thee now.Would so it were, since it must needs befall!For as time wears me, I shall grieve the more.We from the depth departed; and my guideRemounting scal'd the flinty steps, which lateWe downward trac'd, and drew me up the steep.Pursuing thus our solitary wayAmong the crags and splinters of the rock,Sped not our feet without the help of hands.Then sorrow seiz'd me, which e'en now revives,As my thought turns again to what I saw,And, more than I am wont, I rein and curbThe powers of nature in me, lest they runWhere Virtue guides not; that if aught of goodMy gentle star, or something better gave me,I envy not myself the precious boon.As in that season, when the sun least veilsHis face that lightens all, what time the flyGives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant thenUpon some cliff reclin'd, beneath him seesFire-flies innumerous spangling o'er the vale,Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies:With flames so numberless throughout its spaceShone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depthWas to my view expos'd. As he, whose wrongsThe bears aveng'd, at its departure sawElijah's chariot, when the steeds erectRais'd their steep flight for heav'n; his eyes meanwhile,Straining pursu'd them, till the flame aloneUpsoaring like a misty speck he kenn'd;E'en thus along the gulf moves every flame,A sinner so enfolded close in each,That none exhibits token of the theft.Upon the bridge I forward bent to look,And grasp'd a flinty mass, or else had fall'n,Though push'd not from the height. The guide, who mark'dHow I did gaze attentive, thus began:“Within these ardours are the spirits, eachSwath'd in confining fire.” – “Master, thy word,”I answer'd, “hath assur'd me; yet I deem'dAlready of the truth, already wish'dTo ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comesSo parted at the summit, as it seem'dAscending from that funeral pile, where layThe Theban brothers?” He replied: “WithinUlysses there and Diomede endureTheir penal tortures, thus to vengeance nowTogether hasting, as erewhile to wrath.These in the flame with ceaseless groans deploreThe ambush of the horse, that open'd wideA portal for that goodly seed to pass,Which sow'd imperial Rome; nor less the guileLament they, whence of her Achilles 'reftDeidamia yet in death complains.And there is rued the stratagem, that TroyOf her Palladium spoil'd.” – “If they have powerOf utt'rance from within these sparks,” said I,“O master! think my prayer a thousand foldIn repetition urg'd, that thou vouchsafeTo pause, till here the horned flame arrive.See, how toward it with desire I bend.”He thus: “Thy prayer is worthy of much praise,And I accept it therefore: but do thouThy tongue refrain: to question them be mine,For I divine thy wish: and they perchance,For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee.”When there the flame had come, where time and placeSeem'd fitting to my guide, he thus began:“O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire!If living I of you did merit aught,Whate'er the measure were of that desert,When in the world my lofty strain I pour'd,Move ye not on, till one of you unfoldIn what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd.”Of the old flame forthwith the greater hornBegan to roll, murmuring, as a fireThat labours with the wind, then to and froWagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds,Threw out its voice, and spake: “When I escap'dFrom Circe, who beyond a circling yearHad held me near Caieta, by her charms,Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the shore,Nor fondness for my son, nor reverenceOf my old father, nor return of love,That should have crown'd Penelope with joy,Could overcome in me the zeal I hadT' explore the world, and search the ways of life,Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sail'dInto the deep illimitable main,With but one bark, and the small faithful bandThat yet cleav'd to me. As Iberia far,Far as Morocco either shore I saw,And the Sardinian and each isle besideWhich round that ocean bathes. Tardy with ageWere I and my companions, when we cameTo the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'dThe bound'ries not to be o'erstepp'd by man.The walls of Seville to my right I left,On the other hand already Ceuta past.

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