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

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       "Many," exclaim'd the bard, "are these, who throng

       Around us: to petition thee they come.

       Go therefore on, and listen as thou go'st."

       "O spirit! who go'st on to blessedness

       With the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth."

       Shouting they came, "a little rest thy step.

       Look if thou any one amongst our tribe

       Hast e'er beheld, that tidings of him there

       Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go'st thou on?

       Ah wherefore tarriest thou not? We all

       By violence died, and to our latest hour

       Were sinners, but then warn'd by light from heav'n,

       So that, repenting and forgiving, we

       Did issue out of life at peace with God,

       Who with desire to see him fills our heart."

       Then I: "The visages of all I scan

       Yet none of ye remember. But if aught,

       That I can do, may please you, gentle spirits!

       Speak; and I will perform it, by that peace,

       Which on the steps of guide so excellent

       Following from world to world intent I seek."

       In answer he began: "None here distrusts

       Thy kindness, though not promis'd with an oath;

       So as the will fail not for want of power.

       Whence I, who sole before the others speak,

       Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land,

       Which lies between Romagna and the realm

       Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray

       Those who inhabit Fano, that for me

       Their adorations duly be put up,

       By which I may purge off my grievous sins.

       From thence I came. But the deep passages,

       Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt,

       Upon my bosom in Antenor's land

       Were made, where to be more secure I thought.

       The author of the deed was Este's prince,

       Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrath

       Pursued me. Had I towards Mira fled,

       When overta'en at Oriaco, still

       Might I have breath'd. But to the marsh I sped,

       And in the mire and rushes tangled there

       Fell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain."

       Then said another: "Ah! so may the wish,

       That takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd,

       As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.

       Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I:

       Giovanna nor none else have care for me,

       Sorrowing with these I therefore go." I thus:

       "From Campaldino's field what force or chance

       Drew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?"

       "Oh!" answer'd he, "at Casentino's foot

       A stream there courseth, nam'd Archiano, sprung

       In Apennine above the Hermit's seat.

       E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I,

       Pierc'd in the heart, fleeing away on foot,

       And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech

       Fail'd me, and finishing with Mary's name

       I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd.

       I will report the truth; which thou again

       Tell to the living. Me God's angel took,

       Whilst he of hell exclaim'd: "O thou from heav'n!

       Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of him

       Th' eternal portion bear'st with thee away

       For one poor tear that he deprives me of.

       But of the other, other rule I make."

       "Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects

       That vapour dank, returning into water,

       Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.

       That evil will, which in his intellect

       Still follows evil, came, and rais'd the wind

       And smoky mist, by virtue of the power

       Given by his nature. Thence the valley, soon

       As day was spent, he cover'd o'er with cloud

       From Pratomagno to the mountain range,

       And stretch'd the sky above, so that the air

       Impregnate chang'd to water. Fell the rain,

       And to the fosses came all that the land

       Contain'd not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,

       To the great river with such headlong sweep

       Rush'd, that nought stay'd its course. My stiffen'd frame

       Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found,

       And dash'd it into Arno, from my breast

       Loos'ning the cross, that of myself I made

       When overcome with pain. He hurl'd me on,

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