| |
| NOW the fair consort of Tithonus old, | |
| Arisen from her name’s beloved arms, | |
| Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff; her brow, | |
| Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in sign | |
| Of that chill animal, 1 who with his train | 5 |
| Smites fearful nations: and where then we were, | |
| Two steps of her ascent the night had past; | |
| And now the third was closing up its wing, 2 | |
| When I, who had so much of Adam with me, | |
| Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep, | 10 |
| There where all five 3 were seated. In that hour, | |
| When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay, | |
| Remembering haply ancient grief, 4 renews; | |
| And when our minds, more wanderers from the flesh, | |
| And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, full | 15 |
| Of holy divination in their dreams; | |
| Then, in a vision, did I seem to view | |
| A golden-feather’d eagle in the sky, | |
| With open wings, and hovering for descent; | |
| And I was in that place, methought, from whence | 20 |
| Young Ganymede, from his associates ’reft, | |
| Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory. | |
| “Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here alone | |
| He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains | |
| To pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d, | 25 |
| A little wheeling in his aëry tour, | |
| Terrible as the lightning, rush’d he down, | |
| And snatch’d me upward even to the fire. | |
| There both, I thought, the eagle and myself | |
| Did burn; and so intense the imagined flames, | 30 |
| That needs my sleep was broken off. As erst | |
| Achilles shook himself, and round him roll’d | |
| His waken’d eyeballs, wondering where he was, | |
| Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled | |
| To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms; | 35 |
| There whence the Greeks did after sunder him; | |
| E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my face | |
| The slumber parted, turning deadly pale, | |
| Like one ice-struck with dread. Sole at my side | |
| My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now | 40 |
| More than two hours aloft: and to the sea | |
| My looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried, | |
| “Assured we are at happy point. Thy strength | |
| Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come | |
| To Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff | 45 |
| That circling bounds it. Lo! the entrance there, | |
| Where it doth seem disparted. Ere the dawn | |
| Usher’d the day-light, when thy wearied soul | |
| Slept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneath | |
| A lady came, and thus bespake me: ‘I | 50 |
| Am Lucia. 5 Suffer me to take this man, | |
| Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.’ | |
| Sordello and the other gentle shapes | |
| Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone, | |
| This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps. | 55 |
| Here did she place thee. First, her lovely eyes | |
| That open entrance show’d me; then at once | |
| She vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubts | |
| Are chased by certainty, and terror turn’d | |
| To comfort on discovery of the truth, | 60 |
| Such was the change in me: and as my guide | |
| Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff | |
| He moved, and I behind him, toward the height. | |
| Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise; | |
| Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully | 65 |
| I prop the structure. Nearer now we drew, | |
| Arrived whence, in that part, where first a breach | |
| As of a wall appear’d, I could descry | |
| A portal, and three steps beneath, that led | |
| For inlet there, of different colour each; | 70 |
| And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word. | |
| As more and more mine eye did stretch its view, | |
| I mark’d him seated on the highest step, | |
| In visage such, as past my power to bear. | |
| Grasp’d in his hand, a naked sword glanced back | 75 |
| The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain | |
| My sight directed. “Speak, from whence ye stand;” | |
| He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort? | |
| Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.” | |
| “A heavenly dame, not skill-less of these things,” | 80 |
| Replied the instructor, “told us, even now, | |
| ‘Pass that way: here the gate is.’”—“And may she, | |
| Befriending, prosper your ascent,” resumed | |
| The courteous keeper of the gate: “Come then | |
| Before our steps.” We straightway thither came. | 85 |
| The lowest stair 6 was marble white, so smooth | |
| And polish’d, that therein my mirror’d form | |
| Distinct I saw. The next of hue more dark | |
| Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block, | |
| Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that lay | 90 |
| Massy above, seem’d porphyry, that flamed | |
| Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein. | |
| On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d, | |
| Upon the threshold seated, which appear’d | |
| A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps | 95 |
| My leader cheerly drew me. “Ask,” said he, | |
| “With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.” | |
| Piously at his holy feet devolved | |
| I cast me, praying him for pity’s sake | |
| That he would open to me; but first fell | 100 |
| Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times 7 | |
| The letter, that denotes the inward stain, | |
| He, on my forehead, with the blunted point | |
| Of his drawn sword, inscribed. And “Look,” he cried, | |
| “When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.” | 105 |
| Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground, | |
| Were of one colour with the robe he wore. | |
| From underneath that vestment forth he drew | |
| Two keys, 8 of metal twain: the one was gold, | |
| Its fellow silver. With the pallid first, | 110 |
| And next the burnish’d he so ply’d the gate, | |
| As to content me well. “Whenever one | |
| Faileth of these, that in the key-hole straight | |
| It turn not, to this alley then expect | |
| Access in vain.” Such were the words he spake. | 115 |
| “One is more precious: 9 but the other needs | |
| Skill and sagacity, large share of each, | |
| Ere its good task to disengage the knot | |
| Be worthily perform’d. From Peter these | |
| I hold, of him instructed that I err | 120 |
| Rather in opening, than in keeping fast; | |
| So but the suppliant at my feet implore.” | |
| Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door, | |
| Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear: | |
| He forth again departs who looks behind.” | 125 |
| As in the hinges of that sacred ward | |
| The swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong, | |
| Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily | |
| Roar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereft | |
| Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss | 130 |
| To leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d, | |
| Listening the thunder that first issued forth; | |
| And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heard, | |
| In accents blended with sweet melody. | |
| The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the sound | 135 |
| Of choral voices, that in solemn chant | |
| With organ 10 mingle, and now high and clear | |
| Come swelling, now float indistinct away. | |
