THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri

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       Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire

       That labours with the wind, then to and fro

       Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds,

       Threw out its voice, and spake: "When I escap'd

       From Circe, who beyond a circling year

       Had held me near Caieta, by her charms,

       Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the shore,

       Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence

       Of my old father, nor return of love,

       That should have crown'd Penelope with joy,

       Could overcome in me the zeal I had

       T' explore the world, and search the ways of life,

       Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sail'd

       Into the deep illimitable main,

       With but one bark, and the small faithful band

       That yet cleav'd to me. As Iberia far,

       Far as Morocco either shore I saw,

       And the Sardinian and each isle beside

       Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age

       Were I and my companions, when we came

       To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'd

       The 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.

       "O brothers!" I began, "who to the west

       Through perils without number now have reach'd,

       To this the short remaining watch, that yet

       Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof

       Of the unpeopled world, following the track

       Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang:

       Ye were not form'd to live the life of brutes

       But virtue to pursue and knowledge high."

       With these few words I sharpen'd for the voyage

       The mind of my associates, that I then

       Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn

       Our poop we turn'd, and for the witless flight

       Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left.

       Each star of the' other pole night now beheld,

       And ours so low, that from the ocean-floor

       It rose not. Five times re-illum'd, as oft

       Vanish'd the light from underneath the moon

       Since the deep way we enter'd, when from far

       Appear'd a mountain dim, loftiest methought

       Of all I e'er beheld. Joy seiz'd us straight,

       But soon to mourning changed. From the new land

       A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side

       Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl'd her round

       With all the waves, the fourth time lifted up

       The poop, and sank the prow: so fate decreed:

       And over us the booming billow clos'd."