The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso (3 Classic Unabridged Translations in one eBook: Cary's + Longfellow's + Norton's Translation + Original Illustrations by Gustave Doré). Dante Alighieri
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СКАЧАТЬ And better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts

       His infant cries. Within the mount, upright

       An ancient form there stands and huge, that turns

       His shoulders towards Damiata, and at Rome

       As in his mirror looks. Of finest gold

       His head is shap'd, pure silver are the breast

       And arms; thence to the middle is of brass.

       And downward all beneath well-temper'd steel,

       Save the right foot of potter's clay, on which

       Than on the other more erect he stands,

       Each part except the gold, is rent throughout;

       And from the fissure tears distil, which join'd

       Penetrate to that cave. They in their course

       Thus far precipitated down the rock

       Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;

       Then by this straiten'd channel passing hence

       Beneath, e'en to the lowest depth of all,

       Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself

       Shall see it) I here give thee no account."

       Then I to him: "If from our world this sluice

       Be thus deriv'd; wherefore to us but now

       Appears it at this edge?" He straight replied:

       "The place, thou know'st, is round; and though great part

       Thou have already pass'd, still to the left

       Descending to the nethermost, not yet

       Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.

       Wherefore if aught of new to us appear,

       It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks."

       Then I again inquir'd: "Where flow the streams

       Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one

       Thou tell'st not, and the other of that shower,

       Thou say'st, is form'd." He answer thus return'd:

       "Doubtless thy questions all well pleas'd I hear.

       Yet the red seething wave might have resolv'd

       One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,

       But not within this hollow, in the place,

       Whither to lave themselves the spirits go,

       Whose blame hath been by penitence remov'd."

       He added: "Time is now we quit the wood.

       Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give

       Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames;

       For over them all vapour is extinct."

       One of the solid margins bears us now

       Envelop'd in the mist, that from the stream

       Arising, hovers o'er, and saves from fire

       Both piers and water. As the Flemings rear

       Their mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back

       The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide

       That drives toward them, or the Paduans theirs

       Along the Brenta, to defend their towns

       And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt

       On Chiarentana's top; such were the mounds,

       So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to these

       Made equal, by the master, whosoe'er

       He was, that rais'd them here. We from the wood

       Were not so far remov'd, that turning round

       I might not have discern'd it, when we met

       A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.

       They each one ey'd us, as at eventide

       One eyes another under a new moon,

       And toward us sharpen'd their sight as keen,

       As an old tailor at his needle's eye.

       Thus narrowly explor'd by all the tribe,

       I was agniz'd of one, who by the skirt

       Caught me, and cried, "What wonder have we here!"

       And I, when he to me outstretch'd his arm,

       Intently fix'd my ken on his parch'd looks,

       That although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd not

       But I remember'd him; and towards his face

       My hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto!

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       "And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My son!

       Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto

       Latini but a little space with thee

       Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed."

       I thus to him replied: "Much as I can,

       I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing,

       That I here seat me with thee, I consent;

       His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain'd."

       "O son!" said he, "whoever of this throng

       One instant stops, lies then a hundred years,

       No fan to ventilate him, when the fire

       Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close

       Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin

       My troop, who go mourning their endless doom."

       I dar'd not from the path descend to tread

       On equal ground СКАЧАТЬ