Displayed moreo'er the adamantine pavement
How unto his own mother made Alcmæon
Costly appear the luckless ornament ;
Displayed how his own sons did throw themselves
Upon Sennacherib within the temple,

And how, he being dead, they left him there;

Displayed the ruin and the cruel carnage

That Tomyris wrought, when she to Cyrus said,

"Blood didst thou thirst for, and with blood I glut thee!"

Displayed how routed fled the Assyrians

After that Holofernes had been slain,

And likewise the remainder of that slaughter.

I saw there Troy in ashes and in caverns;

O Ilion! thee, how abject and debased,
Displayed the image that is there discerned !

Whoe'er of pencil master was or stile,

That could portray the shades and traits which there
Would cause each subtile genius to admire?
Dead seemed the dead, the living seemed alive ;
Better than I saw not who saw the truth,
All that I trod upon while bowed I went.
Now wax ye proud, and on with looks uplifted,
Ye sons of Eve, and bow not down your faces
So that ye may behold your evil ways!
More of the mount by us was now encompassed,
And far more spent the circuit of the sun,
Than had the mind preoccupied imagined,
When he, who ever watchful in advance

Was going on, began: "Lift up thy head,
'Tis no more time to go thus meditating.

Lo there an Angel who is making haste

To come towards us; lo, returning is
From service of the day the sixth handmaiden.
With reverence thine acts and looks adorn,

So that he may delight to speed us upward;
Think that this day will never dawn again."

I was familiar with his admonition

Ever to lose no time; so on this theme
He could not unto me speak covertly.

Towards us came the being beautiful

Vested in white, and in his countenance

Such as appears the tremulous morning star.

His arms he opened, and opened then his wings;

"Come," said he, "near at hand here are the steps,
And easy from henceforth is the ascent."

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At this announcement few are they who come!
O human creatures, born to soar aloft,
Why fall ye thus before a little wind?
He led us on to where the rock was cleft;

There smote upon my forehead with his wings,
Then a safe passage promised unto me.
As on the right hand, to ascend the mount

Where seated is the church that lordeth it
O'er the well-guided, above Rubaconte,
The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken

By stairways that were made there in the age
When still were safe the ledger and the stave,
E'en thus attempered is the bank which falls

Sheer downward from the second circle there;
But on this side and that the high rock grazes.
As we were turning thitherward our persons,
"Beati pauperes spiritu," voices

Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not.
Ah me! how different are these entrances

From the Infernal! for with anthems here
One enters, and below with wild laments.
We now were mounting up the sacred stairs,
And it appeared to me by far more easy
Than on the plain it had appeared before.
Whence I "My Master, say, what heavy thing

Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly
Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?"

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He answered: When the P's which have remained
Still on thy face almost obliterate

Shall wholly, as the first is, be erased,

Thy feet will be so vanquished by good will,
That not alone they shall not feel fatigue,
But urging up will be to them delight."

Then did I even as they do who are going

With something on the head to them unknown, Unless the signs of others make them doubt, Wherefore the hand to ascertain is helpful,

And seeks and finds, and doth fulfil the office Which cannot be accomplished by the sight; And with the fingers of the right hand spread

I found but six the letters, that had carved Upon my temples he who bore the keys; Upon beholding which my Leader smiled.

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CANTO XIII.

WE were upon the summit of the stairs,
Where for the second time is cut away
The mountain, which ascending shriveth all
There in like manner doth a cornice bind

The hill all round about, as does the first,
Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.

Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;

So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth,
With but the livid colour of the stone.

"If to inquire we wait for people here,"

The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure
Too much delay will our election have."
Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed,

Made his right side the centre of his motion,
And turned the left part of himself about.

"O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter
Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,"
Said he, "as one within here should be led.
Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;
If other reason prompt not otherwise,
Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!"
As much as here is counted for a mile,

So much already there had we advanced
In little time, by dint of ready will;
And tow'rds us there were heard to fly, albeit
They were not visible, spirits uttering

Unto Love's table courteous invitations,
The first voice that passed onward in its flight,
Vinum non habent," said in accents loud,

And went reiterating it behind us.

And ere it wholly grew inaudible

Because of distance, passed another, crying,
"I am Orestes!" and it also stayed not.

“O," said I, “Father, these, what voices are they?"
And even as I asked, behold the third,

Saying "Love those from whom ye have had evil!"

And the good Master said: "This circle scourges
The sin of envy, and on that account

Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.

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The bridle of another sound shall be;

I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge,
Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.
But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast,
And people thou wilt see before us sitting,
And each one close against the cliff is seated."
Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;

I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles
Not from the colour of the stone diverse.
And when we were a little farther onward,

I heard a cry of, "Mary, pray for us!"
A cry of, "Michael, Peter, and all Saints !”
I do not think there walketh still on earth

A man so hard, that he would not be pierced
With pity at what afterward I saw.
For when I had approached so near to them
That manifest to me their acts became,
Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.
Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,

And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
And all of them were by the bank sustained.
Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,

Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
And one upon another leans his head,

So that in others pity soon may rise,

Not only at the accent of their words,
But at their aspect, which no less implores.
And as unto the blind the sun comes not,

So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,

And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
Seeing the others without being seen;
Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.
Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
And therefore waited not for my demand,

But said: "Speak, and be brief, and to the point."

I had Virgilius upon that side

Of the embankment from which one may fall,
Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;

Upon the other side of me I had

The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

To them I turned me, and, "O people, certain,"
Began I," of beholding the high light,
Which your desire has solely in its care,
So may grace speedily dissolve the scum

Upon your consciences, that limpidly
Through them descend the river of the mind,
Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
If any soul among you here is Latian,

And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it."

"O brother mine, each one is citizen

Of one true city; but thy meaning is, Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim." By way of answer this I seemed to hear

A little farther on than where I stood, Whereat I made myself still nearer heard. Among the rest I saw a shade that waited

In aspect, and should any one ask how, Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man. "Spirit," I said, "who stoopest to ascend,

If thou art he who did reply to me,

Make thyself known to me by place or name." "Sienese was I," it replied, " and with

The others here recleanse my guilty life,
Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

Sapient I was not, although I Sapìa

Was called, and I was at another's harm

More happy far than at my own good fortune.
And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
The arc already of my years descending,

My fellow-citizens near unto Colle

Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
And I was praying God for what he willed.
Routed were they, and turned into the bitter

Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
A joy received unequalled by all others;
So that I lifted upward my bold face

Crying to God, 'Henceforth I fear thee not,'
As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.
Peace I desired with God at the extreme

Of my existence, and as yet would not
My debt have been by penitence discharged,

Had it not been that in remembrance held me
Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers,
Who out of charity was grieved for me.