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in that season, when the sun least veils

      His face that lightens all, what time the fly

      Gives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant then,

      Upon some cliff reclined, beneath him sees

      Fire-flies innumerous spangling o’er the vale,

      Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labor lies;

      With flames so numberless throughout its space

      Shone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depth

      Was to my view exposed. As he, whose wrongs

      The bears avenged, as its departure saw

      Elijah’s chariot, when the steeds erect

      Raised their steep flight for heaven; his eyes meanwhile,

      Straining pursued them, till the flame alone,

      Upsoaring like a misty speck, he kenn’d:

      E’en thus along the gulf moves every flame,

      A sinner so enfolded close in each,

      That none exhibits token of the theft.

      Upon the bridge I forward bent to look

      And grasp’d a flinty mass, or else had fallen,

      Though push’d not from the height. The guide, who mark’d

      How I did gaze attentive, thus began:

      “Within these ardours are the spirits; each

      Swatched in confining fire.” “Master! thy word,”

      I answer’d, “hath assured me; yet I deem’d

      Already of the truth, already wish’d

      To ask thee who is in yon fire, that comes

      So parted at the summit, as it seem’d

      Ascending from that funeral pile^[171] where lay

      The Theban brothers.” He replied: “Within,

      Ulysses there and Diomede endure

      Their penal tortures, thus to vengeance now

      Together hasting, as erewhile to wrath

      These in the flame with ceaseless groans deplore

      The ambush of the horse,^[172] that open’d wide

      A portal for the goodly seed to pass,

      Which sow’d imperial Rome; nor less the guile

      Lament they, whence, of her Achilles ’reft,

      Deidamia yet in death complains.

      And there is rued the stratagem that Troy

      Of her Palladium spoil’d.”—“If they have power

      Of utterance from within these sparks,” said I,

      “O master! think my prayer a thousand-fold

      In repetition urged, that thou vouchsafe

      To pause till here the horned flame arrive.

      See, how toward it with desires I bend.”

      He thus: “Thy prayer is worthy of much praise,

      And I accept it therefore; but do thou

      Thy tongue refrain: to question them be mine;

      For I divine thy wish: and they perchance,

      For they were Greeks,^[173] might shun discourse with thee.”

      When there the flame had come, where time and place

      Seem’d fitting to my guide, he thus began:

      “O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire!

      If, living, I of you did merit aught,

      Whate’er the measure were of that desert,

      When in the world my lofty strain I pour’d,

      Move ye not on, till one of you unfold

      In what clime death o’ertook him self-destroy’d.”

      Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn

      Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire

      That labors with the wind, then to and fro

      Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds,

      Threw out its voice, and spake: “When I escaped

      From Circe, who beyond a circling year

      Had held me near Caieta by her charms,

      Ere thus Æneas yet had named the shore;

      Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence

      Of my old father, nor return of love,

      That should have crown’d Penelope with joy,

      Could overcome in me the zeal I had

      To explore the world, and search the ways of life,

      Man’s evil and his virtue. Forth I sail’d

      Into the deep illimitable main,

      With but one bark, and the small faithful band

      That yet cleaved to me. As Iberia far,

      Far as Marocco, either shore I saw,

      And the Sardinian and each isle beside

      Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age

      Were I and my companions, when we came

      To the strait pass,^[174] where Hercules ordain’d

      The boundaries not to be o’erstepp’d by man.

      The walls of Seville to my right I left,

      On the other hand already Ceuta past.

      ‘O brothers!’ I began, ‘who to the west

      Through perils without number now have reach’d;

      To this the short remaining watch, that yet

      Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof

      Of the unpeopled world, following the track

      Of Phœbus. Call to mind from whence ye sprang:

      Ye were not form’d to live the life of brutes,

      But virtue to pursue and knowledge high.’

      With these few words I sharpen’d for the voyage

      The mind of my associates, that I then

      Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn

      Our poop we turn’d, and for the witless flight

      Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left.

      Each star of the other pole night now beheld,

      And ours so low, that from the ocean floor

      It rose not. Five times reillumed, as oft

      Vanish’d the light from underneath the moon,

      Since the deep way we enter’d, when from far

      Appear’d a mountain dim,^[175] loftiest methought

      Of all I e’er beheld. Joy seized us straight;

      But soon to mourning changed. From the new land

      A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side

      Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl’d her round

      With all the waves; the fourth time lifted up

      The

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