THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri
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СКАЧАТЬ As one, who, while he works,

       Computes his labour's issue, that he seems

       Still to foresee the' effect, so lifting me

       Up to the summit of one peak, he fix'd

       His eye upon another. "Grapple that,"

       Said he, "but first make proof, if it be such

       As will sustain thee." For one capp'd with lead

       This were no journey. Scarcely he, though light,

       And I, though onward push'd from crag to crag,

       Could mount. And if the precinct of this coast

       Were not less ample than the last, for him

       I know not, but my strength had surely fail'd.

       But Malebolge all toward the mouth

       Inclining of the nethermost abyss,

       The site of every valley hence requires,

       That one side upward slope, the other fall.

       At length the point of our descent we reach'd

       From the last flag: soon as to that arriv'd,

       So was the breath exhausted from my lungs,

       I could no further, but did seat me there.

       "Now needs thy best of man;" so spake my guide:

       "For not on downy plumes, nor under shade

       Of canopy reposing, fame is won,

       Without which whosoe'er consumes his days

       Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth,

       As smoke in air or foam upon the wave.

       Thou therefore rise: vanish thy weariness

       By the mind's effort, in each struggle form'd

       To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight

       Of her corporeal frame to crush her down.

       A longer ladder yet remains to scale.

       From these to have escap'd sufficeth not.

       If well thou note me, profit by my words."

       I straightway rose, and show'd myself less spent

       Than I in truth did feel me. "On," I cried,

       "For I am stout and fearless." Up the rock

       Our way we held, more rugged than before,

       Narrower and steeper far to climb. From talk

       I ceas'd not, as we journey'd, so to seem

       Least faint; whereat a voice from the other foss

       Did issue forth, for utt'rance suited ill.

       Though on the arch that crosses there I stood,

       What were the words I knew not, but who spake

       Seem'd mov'd in anger. Down I stoop'd to look,

       But my quick eye might reach not to the depth

       For shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake:

       "To the next circle, Teacher, bend thy steps,

       And from the wall dismount we; for as hence

       I hear and understand not, so I see

       Beneath, and naught discern."—"I answer not,"

       Said he, "but by the deed. To fair request

       Silent performance maketh best return."

       We from the bridge's head descended, where

       To the eighth mound it joins, and then the chasm

       Opening to view, I saw a crowd within

       Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape

       And hideous, that remembrance in my veins

       Yet shrinks the vital current. Of her sands

       Let Lybia vaunt no more: if Jaculus,

       Pareas and Chelyder be her brood,

       Cenchris and Amphisboena, plagues so dire

       Or in such numbers swarming ne'er she shew'd,

       Not with all Ethiopia, and whate'er

       Above the Erythraean sea is spawn'd.

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       Amid this dread exuberance of woe

       Ran naked spirits wing'd with horrid fear,

       Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide,

       Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.

       With serpents were their hands behind them bound,

       Which through their reins infix'd the tail and head

       Twisted in folds before. And lo! on one

       Near to our side, darted an adder up,

       And, where the neck is on the shoulders tied,

       Transpierc'd him. Far more quickly than e'er pen

       Wrote O or I, he kindled, burn'd, and chang'd

       To ashes, all pour'd out upon the earth.

       When there dissolv'd he lay, the dust again

       Uproll'd spontaneous, and the self-same form

       Instant resumed. So mighty sages tell,

       The' Arabian Phoenix, when five hundred years

       Have well nigh circled, dies, and springs forthwith

       Renascent. Blade nor herb throughout his life

       He tastes, but tears of frankincense alone

       And odorous amomum: swaths of nard

       And myrrh his funeral shroud. As one that falls,

       He knows not how, by force demoniac dragg'd

       To earth, or through obstruction fettering up

       In chains invisible the powers of man,

       СКАЧАТЬ