THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri
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СКАЧАТЬ Thy happiness is whole?" Down fell mine eyes

       On the clear fount, but there, myself espying,

       Recoil'd, and sought the greensward: such a weight

       Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien

       Of that stern majesty, which doth surround

       mother's presence to her awe-struck child,

       She look'd; a flavour of such bitterness

       Was mingled in her pity. There her words

       Brake off, and suddenly the angels sang:

       "In thee, O gracious Lord, my hope hath been:"

       But went no farther than, "Thou Lord, hast set

       My feet in ample room." As snow, that lies

       Amidst the living rafters on the back

       Of Italy congeal'd when drifted high

       And closely pil'd by rough Sclavonian blasts,

       Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls,

       And straightway melting it distils away,

       Like a fire-wasted taper: thus was I,

       Without a sigh or tear, or ever these

       Did sing, that with the chiming of heav'n's sphere,

       Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain

       Of dulcet symphony, express'd for me

       Their soft compassion, more than could the words

       "Virgin, why so consum'st him?" then the ice,

       Congeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself

       To spirit and water, and with anguish forth

       Gush'd through the lips and eyelids from the heart.

       Upon the chariot's right edge still she stood,

       Immovable, and thus address'd her words

       To those bright semblances with pity touch'd:

       "Ye in th' eternal day your vigils keep,

       So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth,

       Conveys from you a single step in all

       The goings on of life: thence with more heed

       I shape mine answer, for his ear intended,

       Who there stands weeping, that the sorrow now

       May equal the transgression. Not alone

       Through operation of the mighty orbs,

       That mark each seed to some predestin'd aim,

       As with aspect or fortunate or ill

       The constellations meet, but through benign

       Largess of heav'nly graces, which rain down

       From such a height, as mocks our vision, this man

       Was in the freshness of his being, such,

       So gifted virtually, that in him

       All better habits wond'rously had thriv'd.

       The more of kindly strength is in the soil,

       So much doth evil seed and lack of culture

       Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.

       These looks sometime upheld him; for I show'd

       My youthful eyes, and led him by their light

       In upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd

       The threshold of my second age, and chang'd

       My mortal for immortal, then he left me,

       And gave himself to others. When from flesh

       To spirit I had risen, and increase

       Of beauty and of virtue circled me,

       I was less dear to him, and valued less.

       His steps were turn'd into deceitful ways,

       Following false images of good, that make

       No promise perfect. Nor avail'd me aught

       To sue for inspirations, with the which,

       I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise,

       Did call him back; of them so little reck'd him,

       Such depth he fell, that all device was short

       Of his preserving, save that he should view

       The children of perdition. To this end

       I visited the purlieus of the dead:

       And one, who hath conducted him thus high,

       Receiv'd my supplications urg'd with weeping.

       It were a breaking of God's high decree,

       If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted

       Without the cost of some repentant tear."

       "O Thou!" her words she thus without delay

       Resuming, turn'd their point on me, to whom

       They but with lateral edge seem'd harsh before,

       "Say thou, who stand'st beyond the holy stream,

       If this be true. A charge so grievous needs

       Thine own avowal." On my faculty

       Such strange amazement hung, the voice expir'd

       Imperfect, ere its organs gave it birth.

       A little space refraining, then she spake:

       "What dost thou muse on? Answer me. The wave

       On thy remembrances of evil yet

       Hath done no injury." A mingled sense

       Of fear and of confusion, from my lips

       Did such a "Yea" produce, as needed help

       Of vision to interpret. As when breaks

       In act to be discharg'd, a cross-bow bent

       СКАЧАТЬ