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

       Past reach of sight, new thought within me rose

       By others follow'd fast, and each unlike

       Its fellow: till led on from thought to thought,

       And pleasur'd with the fleeting train, mine eye

       Was clos'd, and meditation chang'd to dream.

       It was the hour, when of diurnal heat

       No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,

       O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway

       Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees

       His Greater Fortune up the east ascend,

       Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;

       When 'fore me in my dream a woman's shape

       There came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,

       Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.

       I look'd upon her; and as sunshine cheers

       Limbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my look

       Unloos'd her tongue, next in brief space her form

       Decrepit rais'd erect, and faded face

       With love's own hue illum'd. Recov'ring speech

       She forthwith warbling such a strain began,

       That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have held

       Attention from the song. "I," thus she sang,

       "I am the Siren, she, whom mariners

       On the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear:

       Such fulness of delight the list'ner feels.

       I from his course Ulysses by my lay

       Enchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once

       Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart

       Contented knows no void." Or ere her mouth

       Was clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'd

       A dame of semblance holy. With stern voice

       She utter'd; "Say, O Virgil, who is this?"

       Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bent

       Toward that goodly presence: th' other seiz'd her,

       And, her robes tearing, open'd her before,

       And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,

       Exhaling loathsome, wak'd me. Round I turn'd

       Mine eyes, and thus the teacher: "At the least

       Three times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone.

       Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass."

       I straightway rose. Now day, pour'd down from high,

       Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;

       And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smote

       The early ray. I follow'd, stooping low

       My forehead, as a man, o'ercharg'd with thought,

       Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,

       That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,

       "Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild,

       As never met the ear on mortal strand.

       With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up,

       Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along,

       Where each side of the solid masonry

       The sloping, walls retir'd; then mov'd his plumes,

       And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn,

       Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.

       "What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"

       Began my leader; while th' angelic shape

       A little over us his station took.

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       "New vision," I replied, "hath rais'd in me

       Surmizings strange and anxious doubts, whereon

       My soul intent allows no other thought

       Or room or entrance."—"Hast thou seen," said he,

       "That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone

       The spirits o'er us weep for? Hast thou seen

       How man may free him of her bonds? Enough.

       Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd ken

       Fix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal King

       Whirls in the rolling spheres." As on his feet

       The falcon first looks down, then to the sky

       Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food,

       That woos him thither; so the call I heard,

       So onward, far as the dividing rock

       Gave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.

       On the fifth circle when I stood at large,

       A race appear'd before me, on the ground

       All downward lying prone and weeping sore.

       "My soul hath cleaved to the dust," I heard

       With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak'd the words.

       "O ye elect of God, whose penal woes

       Both hope and justice mitigate, direct

       Tow'rds the steep rising our uncertain way."

       "If ye approach secure from this our doom,

       Prostration—and would urge your course with speed,

       СКАЧАТЬ