The Inferno of Dante, Canto I

In the mid season of this mortal strife, I found myself within a gloomy grove, Far wandering from the ways of perfect life: The place I know not, where I chanc'd to rove, It was a wood so wild, it wounds me sore But to remember with what ills I strove: Such still my dread, that death is little more. But I will tell the good which there I found. High things 'twas there my fortune to explore: Yet how I enter'd on that secret ground I know not to explain; so much in sleep My mortal senses at that hour were drown'd. But when I reach'd the bottom of a steep, That rose to terminate the dreary vale, Which made cold terrors thro' my bosom creep, I look'd on high, where breath'd a purer gale, And saw the summit glisten with that ray Which leads the wand'rer safe o'er hill and dale. This soon began to chase those fears away, Which held my struggling spirit bound so fast During that night of darkness and dismay: And, as th' exhausted wretch, by fortune cast Safe from the stormy deep upon the shore, Turns to survey the perils he has past, So turn'd my soul, ere yet its dread was o'er, Back to contemplate that mysterious strait Where living mortal never past before. Arising soon from this repose elate, Up the rough steep my journey I begin, My lower foot sustaining all my weight. Here, while my toilsome way I slowly win, Behold a nimble Panther springs to sight! And beauteous spots adorn his motley skin: He at my presence shew'd no signs of fright, But rather strove to bar my doubtful way; I often turn'd, and oft resolv'd on flight. 'Twas now the chearful hour of rising day; The sun advanc'd in that propitious sign Which first beheld his radiant beams display Creation's charms, the work of love divine! So that I now was rais'd to hope sublime, By these bright omens of a fate benign, The beauteous Beast and the sweet hour of prime. But soon I lost that hope; and shook yet more To see a Lion in this lonely clime: With open jaws, athirst for human gore, He rush'd towards me in his hungry ire; Air seem'd to tremble at his savage roar. With him, enflam'd with every fierce desire, A famish'd She-wolf, like a spectre, came; Beneath whose gripe shall many a wretch expire. Such sad oppression seiz'd my sinking frame, Such horror at these strange tremendous sights, My hopes to climb the hill no longer aim; But, as the wretch whom lucre's lust incites, In the curst hour which scatters all his wealth, Sinks in deep sorrow, dead to all delights, So was I robb'd of all my spirit's health, And to the quarter where the sun grows mute, Driven by this Beast, who crept on me by stealth. While I retreated from her dread pursuit, A manly figure my glad eyes survey'd, Whose voice was like the whisper of a lute. Soon as I saw him in this dreary glade, Take pity on me, to this form I cry'd, Be thou substantial man, or fleeting shade!— A man I was (the gracious form reply'd) And both my parents were of Lombard race; They in their native Mantua liv'd and dy'd: I liv'd at Rome, rich in a monarch's grace, Beneath the good Augustus' letter'd reign, While fabled Gods were serv'd with worship base. A Bard I was: the subject of my strain That just and pious Chief who sail'd from Troy, Sinking in ashes on the sanguine plain. But thou, whom these portentous sights annoy, Why dost thou turn? why not ascend the mount, Source of all good, and summit of all joy!— Art thou that Virgil? thou! that copious fount Of richest eloquence, so clear, so bright? I answer'd, blushing at his kind account; O thou! of Poets the pure guide and light! Now let me profit by that fond esteem Which kept thy song for ever in my sight! Thou art my Master! thou my Bard supreme, From whom alone my fond ambition drew That purer style which I my glory deem! O! from this Beast, so hideous to the view, Save me! O save me! thou much-honour'd Sage! For growing terrors all my power subdue.— A different road must lead thee from her rage, (He said, observant of my starting tears) And from this wild thy spirit disengage; For that terrific Beast, which caus'd thy fears, Worries each wretch that in her road she spies, Till death at length, his sole relief, appears. So keen her nature, sleep ne'er seals her eyes; Her ravenous hunger no repast can sate; Food only serves to make its fury rise. She calls from different animals her mate; And long shall she produce an offspring base, Then from a mighty victor meet her fate. Nor pomp nor riches shall that victor grace, But truth, and love, and all excelling worth; He from his rescu'd land all ill shall chase, The saviour of the realm that gives him birth, Of Italy, for whom Camilla fell, And Turnus, fighting for his native earth, And Ninus, with the friend he lov'd so well. The Beast this victor to that den shall drive Whence Envy let her loose, her native hell! Now for thy good, well-pleas'd, I will contrive. That by my aid, while I thy steps controul, Thou shalt in safety at those realms arrive Where thou shalt see the tortur'd spirits roll, And hear each mourn his miserable fate, Calling for death on his immortal soul. Then shalt thou visit those, who in a state Of purifying fire are still content, And for their promis'd heaven submissive wait: If to that heaven thy happy course is bent, A worthier guard will soon my place supply; A purer spirit, for thy guidance sent! For that Immortal Power, who rules on high, Because I ne'er his perfect laws have known, His sacred presence will to me deny. There in the realms of light he fix'd his throne; There o'er the world Almighty Lord he reigns: O blest the servant whom he deigns to own!— Poet (I answer'd) by thy living strains, And by that God, tho' not reveal'd to thee, That I may 'scape from these, and heavier pains, Be thou my leader, where thy way is free! So that my eyes St. Peter's gate may find, And all the wonders of the deep may see! He led, and I attentive march'd behind.