English

CANTO IV.

Argument.

The Poet descends into Limbo. — The shades of the great Heathen.

M Y heavy slumber suddenly was broke
By the loud crashing of the thunder's sound;
I started as doth one by force awoke.
Fresh from repose, my eye now look'd around;
On every side I gazed, that I might know
What place it was which closed me in its bound.
I was upon the pathway that doth go

CANTO III.

Argument.

Inscription on the gate of Hell. — Punishment of the worthless, whose deeds were neither good nor evil — Charon's bark, and voyage of the souls.

" Through me ye pass the mournful city's door;
Through me ye go to never-ending woe;
Through me are with the lost for evermore:
By justice moved, my Maker willed it so,
When I was form'd by the Supremest Mind,

CANTO II.

Argument.

Dante hesitates; but hearing that Virgil has been sent by Beatrice, takes courage, and follows him.

A ND now the day departed, and the sky
Wore the dusk twilight hue that brings repose
To every living thing; and only I
To meet the perils of the way arose,
Striving that memory might not in vain
Retrace once more the path so full of woes.

CANTO I.

Argument.

The Poet, having lost his way in a forest, is alarmed by three savage beasts; the shade of Virgil appears to him, and offers to be his guide.

A BOUT the middle of life's onward way,
I found myself within a darksome dell,
Because from the true path I went astray.
Alas! how hard a thing it is to tell
Of that dark wood, so rugged and so bare;
Anew I fear when there in thought I dwell.

Ich hatte einst ein schones Vaterland

I had, long since, a lovely Fatherland . . .
The oaks would gleam
And touch the skies; the violets would nod.
It was a dream.

You'd kiss me, and in German you would say
(Oh joy supreme —
How sweet the sound of it!) " Ich liebe dich " . . .
It was a dream.

Du bist ja heut so grambefangen

To-day you are so plunged in sorrow,
I've never seen you more depressed.
Your tears have almost made a furrow;
The sobs still shake within your breast.

Are all your cheerless thoughts still turning
To where your home once used to stand?
Confess, how often you've been yearning
For your beloved Fatherland.

Do you still think of her who sweetly,

O, des liebenswürd'gen Dichters

" Oh this dear, delightful poet
Whose great poems charm and cheer us!
How we'd love to make him happy
If we only had him near us! "

While these dear, delightful ladies
Promise me a sweet existence,
I am in a foreign country,
Pining safely at a distance.

What's the good to know, up North, it's
Fairer in the South than this is . . .

Das Glück, das gestern mich geküsst

The joy that kissed me yesterday
Has disappeared already;
Long years ago I found it so:
True love is never steady.

Oft curiosity has drawn
Some lovely ladies toward me;
But when they looked deep in my heart
They left, and then abhorred me.

Some have grown pale before they went,
And some with laughter cleft me;
But only Kitty really cared —

Es läuft dahin die Barke

Swift as a deer, my bark
Cuts through the waters, leaping
Over the Thames, and sweeping
Us on to Regent's Park.

There lives my darling Kitty,
Whose love is never shoddy;
Who has the whitest body
In West End or the City.

She smiles, expecting me there,
And fills the water-kettle,
And wheels the tiny settle

Er ist so herzbeweglich

Her letter leaves me breathless —
She says (at least she writes me)
Her love, that so delights me,
Is timeless, speechless, deathless.

She's bored and dull and sickly
And never will recover
Unless . . . " You must come over
To England, yes — and quickly! "