Classic Poem

Now when the heat of day no more hath power
To lend its warmth unto the moon's chill beam,
Conquer'd by Earth or Saturn, in the hour
When magic sees its greatest fortune gleam,
Before the dawn, in the far orient sky,
Arising in the twilight's silver stream,
I saw a woman hideous and awry,
The while I slept; she seem'd of stammering speech,
Maim'd in her hands, and with distorted eye,
And livid hue. But as the sunbeams reach
The limbs all chill'd beneath the damps of night,
Even so my gaze to her appear'd to teach
Sweet language, and her features smooth'd aright,
Till her foul form and vision's twisted ray
Shone in the beauty of love's rosy light.
And when her tongue was loos'd, she sang a lay
So lovely that thereto my heart was bound,
Nor from her music might I turn away.
She sang: " I am the syren of sweet sound,
Charming the mariners amid the sea,
For in my voice such melody is found.
I drew Ulysses from his path to me,
With my sweet singing: they who with me dwell
Rarely depart; therein such joys there be. "
Scarce had she closed her song of magic spell,
When one appear'd, in holy light array'd,
To bring dismay to her so false and fell.
" O Virgil, Virgil, who is this? " she said;
And in her mien a righteous anger wore;
While on her radiant form his eyes were stay'd.
She took the foul one, and her garments tore,
And show'd to me the loathsome form within;
I woke with the ill savour that it bore.
I oped my eyes; thus Virgil did begin:
" Thrice have I said to thee, " Arise and go;"
Seek we the spot where we may entrance win. "
I rose; the morning sunbeams shed a glow
On all the circles of the sacred hill,
And their bright radiance fell behind us now.
Walking as one whom pensive musings fill
With thoughts that cause him tow'rd the earth to bend,
I went, in form of arch half-curvid still;
And heard: " Now come, for here ye may ascend, "
Said in a voice so sweet and so benign,
As never spake in this our mortal land.
With swanlike wings, a lovely form divine
Disclosed whereby we might attain the height,
'Twixt the two walls which did the path confine;
Then touch'd us with his plumes of snowy white:
Affirming that the mourning hearts are blest,
For they at last shall be consoled aright.
" Wherefore upon the earth thy glances rest
In such a wise? " to me began my guide,
When from the angel we had somewhat pass'd.
" Such doubt is raised within me, " I replied,
" By a new vision, whose strange memories cleave
So close I cannot part them from my side. "
" Saw'st thou the ancient witch, by whom they grieve
Solely above us in each painful zone? "
He said, " and how her nets ye still may leave?
It is enough; with greater haste speed on:
Turn thou thine eyes unto the starry sky,
The heavenly lure that circles round the throne
Of the Eternal Sire. As, ere it fly,
The falcon first looks downwards at its feet,
Then spreads its wings unto its master's cry,
Even so did I; and where the wall was split
In twain, we, climbing, toil'd, until once more
A level surface did our footsteps greet.
And as this fifth abode we journey'd o'er,
Some spirits there I saw, who seem'd to grieve,
Low lying on the earth with wailings sore.
They said: " My soul unto the dust doth cleave; "
And mournfully they spake with groans and sighs
So deep, their words I hardly might perceive.
" O ye Elect of God, on whom there lies
A woe by hope and justice made more light,
Aid us to find where we may heavenward rise. "
" If ye, who now advance with form upright,
Would find the upward path most speedily,
Let your left hand be still toward the height. "
Thus ask'd the Poet, and thus answer'd he
Who grovell'd near our steps. Even so I learn'd
The thing which with mine eyes I might not see:
And unto Virgil then my glance I turn'd:
Wherefore with gesture kind he gave assent
To that for which my eager spirit yearn'd.
And when my longing I might thus content,
To him who now had spoken I drew near,
Because his words had fix'd my thoughts intent.
I said: " O thou whose weeping doth repair
The sin with which thou canst not turn to God,
Defer awhile for me thy greater care.
Say who thou wert, and wherefore on the sod
Thou liest prone; and if thou wouldst that they
Who still have life should aid thee on thy road. "
And he to me: " Why God on us doth lay
This grief, I will declare to thee; but learn,
I was on earth the heir of Peter's sway.
Between Chiaveri and Sestri's bourne
Flows a fair stream, and from its name is known
The title by my ancient lineage worn.
A month, and little more, on me was thrown
The mantle which to him who keeps it clean
Weighs so that all besides seems light as down.
And late, alas! my penitence hath been;
But life her false delusion did disclose,
When I of Rome was pastor. Then, I ween,
Saw I that there I might not find repose;
Yet none on earth was higher: thus my heart
Unto the love of heavenly life arose.
Till then, my soul was sad, and kept apart
From God, by evil greediness of gain;
Now, as thou seest, I suffer here the smart.
The ill by avarice done is shown most plain,
In that endured by those within this bound;
Nor hath the mountain a more bitter pain.
Even as in life our eyes were ever found
Intent on earthly things, nor look'd on high,
Thus justice here hath fix'd them on the ground.
As greed of gain caused purer love to die,
Whence all our works were fruitless and in vain,
Thus justice forces us on earth to lie,
While binding cords our hands and feet detain;
As long as it our Heavenly Sire shall please,
So long we must immovable remain. "
I would have answer'd, kneeling on my knees;
But as I now began, and he perceived
My humble attitude, as one who sees
Only by listening, nor is deceived,
He said: " Why bend thee unto earth so low? "
And I: " Because in conscience I were grieved,
If to thy rank I did no reverence show. "
He answer'd: " Rise, my brother, thou hast err'd;
For I am but God's servant, even as thou.
If e'er the holy evangelic word
That neque nubent says, were understood
By thee, thou hadst perceived what I inferr'd.
But now depart: no longer time I would
Thou shouldst remain; because, in sooth, thy stay
Hinders my sorrow's purifying flood.
I have a niece, Alagia, who aye
Was of a gentle spirit; if our ill
Example have not guided her astray:
She, of my race, alone on earth remaineth still. "