Song and Legend From the Middle Ages [48]
a little space Were distant, not so far but I in part Discover'd that a tribe in honour high That place possess'd. "O thou, who every art And science valuest I who are these that boast Such honour, separate from all the rest?" He answer'd: "The renown of their great names, That echoes through your world above, acquires Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanced." Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bard Sublime![1] his shade returns, that left us late!
No sooner ceased the sound, than I beheld Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps, Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad. When thus my master kind began: "Mark him, Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen, The other three preceding, as their lord. This is that Homer, of all bards supreme: Flaccus the next, in satire's vein excelling; The third is Naso; Lucan is the last. Because they all that appellation own, With which the voice singly accosted me, Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge." So I beheld united the bright school Of him the monarch of sublimest song,[2]
That o'er the others like an eagle soars. When they together short discourse had held, They turned to me, with salutation kind Beckoning me; at the which my master smiled Nor was this all; but greater honour still They gave me, for they made me of their tribe; And I was sixth amid so learn'd a band.
[1] The bard sublime--Virgil.
[2] The monarch of sublimest song--Homer.
II. Francesca da Rimini.[1]
[1] Francesca da Polenta was given in marriage by her father to Lanclotto da Rimini, a man brave, but of deformed person. His brother Paolo, who was exceedingly handsome, won her affections. They were both put to death by Lagnciotto.
From the Inferno. From Limbo the poet descends into the second circle, where the sin of lust is punished. The souls in this circle are driven forever round in a tyrannous gust of wind. They see Cleopatra and Helen and Paris and Tristan and many others whom Virgil names to the poet. Finally he sees two spirits approaching, whom he asks permission to address. To these he spoke:
"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse With us, if by none else restrain'd." As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their will along; Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks, They, through the ill air speeding--with such force My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged. "O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued; If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight. Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind, As now, is mute. The land[1] that gave me birth, Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams. "Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still! Love, that denial takes from none beloved, Caught me with pleasing him so passing well, That, as thou seest' he yet deserts me not. Love brought us to one death: Caina[2] waits The soul, who split our life." Such were their words; At hearing which, downward I bent my looks, And held them there so long, that the bard cried: "What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus: "Alas I by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!" Then turning, I to them my speech addressed, And thus began: "Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves. But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied: "No greater grief than to remember days Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root, From whence our love gat being, I will do As one, who weeps and
No sooner ceased the sound, than I beheld Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps, Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad. When thus my master kind began: "Mark him, Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen, The other three preceding, as their lord. This is that Homer, of all bards supreme: Flaccus the next, in satire's vein excelling; The third is Naso; Lucan is the last. Because they all that appellation own, With which the voice singly accosted me, Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge." So I beheld united the bright school Of him the monarch of sublimest song,[2]
That o'er the others like an eagle soars. When they together short discourse had held, They turned to me, with salutation kind Beckoning me; at the which my master smiled Nor was this all; but greater honour still They gave me, for they made me of their tribe; And I was sixth amid so learn'd a band.
[1] The bard sublime--Virgil.
[2] The monarch of sublimest song--Homer.
II. Francesca da Rimini.[1]
[1] Francesca da Polenta was given in marriage by her father to Lanclotto da Rimini, a man brave, but of deformed person. His brother Paolo, who was exceedingly handsome, won her affections. They were both put to death by Lagnciotto.
From the Inferno. From Limbo the poet descends into the second circle, where the sin of lust is punished. The souls in this circle are driven forever round in a tyrannous gust of wind. They see Cleopatra and Helen and Paris and Tristan and many others whom Virgil names to the poet. Finally he sees two spirits approaching, whom he asks permission to address. To these he spoke:
"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse With us, if by none else restrain'd." As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their will along; Thus issued, from that troop where Dido ranks, They, through the ill air speeding--with such force My cry prevail'd, by strong affection urged. "O gracious creature and benign! who go'st Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued; If, for a friend, the King of all, we own'd, Our prayer to him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil plight. Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind, As now, is mute. The land[1] that gave me birth, Is situate on the coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams. "Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still! Love, that denial takes from none beloved, Caught me with pleasing him so passing well, That, as thou seest' he yet deserts me not. Love brought us to one death: Caina[2] waits The soul, who split our life." Such were their words; At hearing which, downward I bent my looks, And held them there so long, that the bard cried: "What art thou pondering?" I in answer thus: "Alas I by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!" Then turning, I to them my speech addressed, And thus began: "Francesca! your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves. But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how Love granted, that ye knew Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied: "No greater grief than to remember days Of joy, when misery is at hand. That kens Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the primal root, From whence our love gat being, I will do As one, who weeps and