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Upon the back of Italy congeals,

       Blown on and drifted by Sclavonian winds,

      And then, dissolving, trickles through itself

       Whene'er the land that loses shadow breathes,

       So that it seems a fire that melts a taper;

      E'en thus was I without a tear or sigh,

       Before the song of those who sing for ever

       After the music of the eternal spheres.

      But when I heard in their sweet melodies

       Compassion for me, more than had they said,

       "O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus upbraid him?"

      The ice, that was about my heart congealed,

       To air and water changed, and in my anguish

       Through mouth and eyes came gushing from my breast.

      She, on the right-hand border of the car

       Still firmly standing, to those holy beings

       Thus her discourse directed afterwards:

      "Ye keep your watch in the eternal day,

       So that nor night nor sleep can steal from you

       One step the ages make upon their path;

      Therefore my answer is with greater care,

       That he may hear me who is weeping yonder,

       So that the sin and dole be of one measure.

      Not only by the work of those great wheels,

       That destine every seed unto some end,

       According as the stars are in conjunction,

      But by the largess of celestial graces,

       Which have such lofty vapours for their rain

       That near to them our sight approaches not,

      Such had this man become in his new life

       Potentially, that every righteous habit

       Would have made admirable proof in him;

      But so much more malignant and more savage

       Becomes the land untilled and with bad seed,

       The more good earthly vigour it possesses.

      Some time did I sustain him with my look;

       Revealing unto him my youthful eyes,

       I led him with me turned in the right way.

      As soon as ever of my second age

       I was upon the threshold and changed life,

       Himself from me he took and gave to others.

      When from the flesh to spirit I ascended,

       And beauty and virtue were in me increased,

       I was to him less dear and less delightful;

      And into ways untrue he turned his steps,

       Pursuing the false images of good,

       That never any promises fulfil;

      Nor prayer for inspiration me availed,

       By means of which in dreams and otherwise

       I called him back, so little did he heed them.

      So low he fell, that all appliances

       For his salvation were already short,

       Save showing him the people of perdition.

      For this I visited the gates of death,

       And unto him, who so far up has led him,

       My intercessions were with weeping borne.

      God's lofty fiat would be violated,

       If Lethe should be passed, and if such viands

       Should tasted be, withouten any scot

      Of penitence, that gushes forth in tears."

      XXXI. Reproaches of Beatrice and Confession of Dante. The Passage of Lethe. The Seven Virtues. The Griffon.

       Table of Contents

      "O thou who art beyond the sacred river,"

       Turning to me the point of her discourse,

       That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen,

      She recommenced, continuing without pause,

       "Say, say if this be true; to such a charge,

       Thy own confession needs must be conjoined."

      My faculties were in so great confusion,

       That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct

       Than by its organs it was set at large.

      Awhile she waited; then she said: "What thinkest?

       Answer me; for the mournful memories

       In thee not yet are by the waters injured."

      Confusion and dismay together mingled

       Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight

       Was needful to the understanding of it.

      Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 'tis discharged

       Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow,

       And with less force the arrow hits the mark,

      So I gave way beneath that heavy burden,

       Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs,

       And the voice flagged upon its passage forth.

      Whence she to me: "In those desires of mine

       Which led thee to the loving of that good,

       Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to,

      What trenches lying traverse or what chains

       Didst thou discover, that of passing onward

       Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope?

      And what allurements or what vantages

       Upon the forehead of the others showed,

       That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?"

      After the heaving of a bitter sigh,

       Hardly had I the voice to make response,

       And with fatigue my lips did fashion it.

      Weeping I said: "The things that present were

       With their false pleasure turned aside my steps,

       Soon as your countenance concealed itself."

      And she: "Shouldst thou be silent, or deny

       What thou confessest, not less manifest

       Would be thy fault, by such a Judge 'tis known.

      But when from one's own cheeks comes bursting forth

       The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal

       Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself.

      But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame

       For thy transgression, and another time

       Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong,

      Cast down the seed of weeping and attend;

       So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way

       My buried flesh should have directed thee.

      Never to thee presented art or nature

       Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein

      

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