THE DIVINE COMEDY: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso (3 Classic Translations in One Edition). Dante Alighieri
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СКАЧАТЬ BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crash

       Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself,

       As one by main force rous'd. Risen upright,

       My rested eyes I mov'd around, and search'd

       With fixed ken to know what place it was,

       Wherein I stood. For certain on the brink

       I found me of the lamentable vale,

       The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous sound

       Of plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,

       And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vain

       Explor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern.

       "Now let us to the blind world there beneath

       Descend;" the bard began all pale of look:

       "I go the first, and thou shalt follow next."

       Then I his alter'd hue perceiving, thus:

       "How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,

       Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?"

       He then: "The anguish of that race below

       With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear

       Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way

       Urges to haste." Onward, this said, he mov'd;

       And ent'ring led me with him on the bounds

       Of the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss.

       Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard

       Except of sighs, that made th' eternal air

       Tremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from grief

       Felt by those multitudes, many and vast,

       Of men, women, and infants. Then to me

       The gentle guide: "Inquir'st thou not what spirits

       Are these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou pass

       Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin

       Were blameless; and if aught they merited,

       It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,

       The portal to thy faith. If they before

       The Gospel liv'd, they serv'd not God aright;

       And among such am I. For these defects,

       And for no other evil, we are lost;

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       "Only so far afflicted, that we live

       Desiring without hope." So grief assail'd

       My heart at hearing this, for well I knew

       Suspended in that Limbo many a soul

       Of mighty worth. "O tell me, sire rever'd!

       Tell me, my master!" I began through wish

       Of full assurance in that holy faith,

       Which vanquishes all error; "say, did e'er

       Any, or through his own or other's merit,

       Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?"

       Piercing the secret purport of my speech,

       He answer'd: "I was new to that estate,

       When I beheld a puissant one arrive

       Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown'd.

       He forth the shade of our first parent drew,

       Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,

       Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv'd,

       Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,

       Israel with his sire and with his sons,

       Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,

       And others many more, whom he to bliss

       Exalted. Before these, be thou assur'd,

       No spirit of human kind was ever sav'd."

       We, while he spake, ceas'd not our onward road,

       Still passing through the wood; for so I name

       Those spirits thick beset. We were not far

       On this side from the summit, when I kenn'd

       A flame, that o'er the darken'd hemisphere

       Prevailing shin'd. Yet we a little space

       Were distant, not so far but I in part

       Discover'd, that a tribe in honour high

       That place possess'd. "O thou, who every art

       And science valu'st! who are these, that boast

       Such honour, separate from all the rest?"

       He answer'd: "The renown of their great names

       That echoes through your world above, acquires

       Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc'd."

       Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bard

       Sublime! his shade returns that left us late!"

       No sooner ceas'd the sound, than I beheld

       Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps,

       Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad.

       When thus my master kind began: "Mark him,

       Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen,

       The other three preceding, as their lord.

       This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:

       Flaccus the next in satire's vein excelling;

       The third is Naso; Lucan is the last.

       Because they all that appellation own,

       With which the voice singly accosted me,

       Honouring they greet me thus, and well they СКАЧАТЬ