Than I upstarted, when from off my face

Sleep fled away; and pallid I became,
As doth the man who freezes with affright.
Only my Comforter was at my side,

And now the sun was more than two hours high, And turned towards the sea-shore was my face. "Be not intimidated," said my Lord,

"Be reassured, for all is well with us;

Do not restrain, but put forth all thy strength.
Thou hast at length arrived at Purgatory;

See there the cliff that closes it around;
See there the entrance, where it seems disjoined.
Whilom at dawn, which doth precede the day,
When inwardly thy spirit was asleep

Upon the flowers that deck the land below,
There came a Lady and said: "I am Lucìa;
Let me take this one up, who is asleep;
So will I make his journey easier for him.'
Sordello and the other noble shapes

Remained; she took thee, and, as day grew bright,
Upward she came, and I upon her footsteps.
She laid thee here; and first her beauteous eyes
That open entrance pointed out to me;
Then she and sleep together went away."
In guise of one whose doubts are reassured,

And who to confidence his fear doth change,
After the truth has been discovered to him,
So did I change; and when without disquiet
My Leader saw me, up along the cliff

He moved, and I behind hirn, tow'rd the height.
Reader, thou seest well how I exalt

My theme, and therefore if with greater art
I fortify it, marvel not thereat.

Nearer approached we, and were in such place,
That there, where first appeared to me a rift
Like to a crevice that disparts a wall,

I saw a portal, and three stairs beneath,
Diverse in colour, to go up to it,

And a gate-keeper, who yet spake no word.
And as I opened more and more mine eyes,
I saw him seated on the highest stair,
Such in the face that I endured it not.

And in his hand he had a naked sword,

Which so reflected back the sunbeams tow'rds us,
That oft in vain I lifted up mine eyes.

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"Tell it from where you are, what is't you wish ?"
Began he to exclaim; where is the escort ?
Take heed your coming hither harm you not!"
"A Lady of Heaven, with these things conversant,"
My Master answered him, "but even now
Said to us, 'Thither go; there is the portal.'
"And may she speed your footsteps in all good,"
Again began the courteous janitor;
"Come forward then unto these stairs of ours."
Thither did we approach; and the first stair

Was marble white, so polished and so smooth,
I mirrored myself therein as I appear.
The second, tinct of deeper hue than perse,
Was of a calcined and uneven stone,
Cracked all asunder lengthwise and across.
The third, that uppermost rests massively,

Porphyry seemed to me, as flaming red
As blood that from a vein is spirting forth.
Both of his feet was holding upon this

The Angel of God, upon the threshold seated,
Which seemed to me a stone of diamond.
Along the three stairs upward with good will
Did my Conductor draw me, saying:
Humbly that he the fastening may undo."

Devoutly at the holy feet I cast me,

"Ask

For mercy's sake besought that he would open,
But first upon my breast three times I smote.

Seven P's upon my forehead he described

With the sword's point, and, "Take heed that thou wash
These wounds, when thou shalt be within," he said.

Ashes, or earth that dry is excavated,

Of the same colour were with his attire,
And from beneath it he drew forth two keys.

One was of gold, and the other was of silver;

First with the white, and after with the yellow,
Plied he the door, so that I was content.

"Whenever faileth either of these keys

So that it turn not rightly in the lock,"
He said to us, "this entrance doth not open.
More precious one is, but the other needs

More art and intellect ere it unlock,
For it is that which doth the knot unloose.
From Peter I have them; and he bade me err
Rather in opening than in keeping shut,
If people but fall down before my feet."

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Then pushed the portals of the sacred door,

Exclaiming: "Enter; but I give you warning
That forth returns whoever looks behind."
And when upon their hinges were turned round
The swivels of that consecrated gate,

Which are of metal, massive and sonorous,
Roared not so loud, nor so discordant seemed
Tarpeia, when was ta'en from it the good
Metellus, wherefore meagre it remained.
At the first thunder-peal I turned attentive,

And "Te Deum laudamus” seemed to hear
In voices mingled with sweet melody.
Exactly such an image rendered me

That which I heard, as we are wont to catch, When people singing with the organ stand; For now we hear, and now hear not, the words.

CANTO X.

WHEN we had crossed the threshold of the door
Which the perverted love of souls disuses,

Because it makes the crooked way seem straight,

Re-echoing I heard it closed again;

And if I had turned back mine eyes upon it,
What for my failing had been fit excuse?
We mounted upward through a rifted rock,
Which undulated to this side and that,
Even as a wave receding and advancing.
"Here it behoves us use a little art,"

Began my Leader, "to adapt ourselves
Now here, now there, to the receding side."
And this our footsteps so infrequent made,

That sooner had the moon's decreasing disk
Regained its bed to sink again to rest,
Than we were forth from out that needle's eye;
But when we free and in the open were,
There where the mountain backward piles itself,

I wearied out, and both of us uncertain

About our way, we stopped upon a plain More desolate than roads across the deserts. From where its margin borders on the void,

To foot of the high bank that ever rises,

A human body three times told would measure ;

And far as eye of mine could wing its flight,
Now on the left, and on the right flank now,
The same this cornice did appear to me.
Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet,
When I perceived the embankment round about,
Which all right of ascent had interdicted,
To be of marble white, and so adorned

With sculptures, that not only Polycletus,

But Nature's self, had there been put to shame.
The Angel, who came down to earth with tidings
Of peace, that had been wept for many a year,
And opened Heaven from its long interdict,

In front of us appeared so truthfully

There sculptured in a gracious attitude,
He did not seem an image that is silent.

One would have sworn that he was saying, “Ave";
For she was there in effigy portrayed

Who turned the key to ope the exalted love,
And in her mien this language had impressed,
"Ecce ancilla Dei," as distinctly

As any figure stamps itself in wax.

"Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,"

The gentle Master said, who had me standing
Upon that side where people have their hearts;

Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheld

In rear of Mary, and upon that side
Where he was standing who conducted me,
Another story on the rock imposed;

Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near,
So that before mine eyes it might be set.
There sculptured in the self-same marble were
The cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark,
Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed.
People appeared in front, and all of them

In seven choirs divided, of two senses

Made one say "No," the other, "Yes, they sing."
Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense,

Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and nose
Were in the yes and no discordant made.

Preceded there the vessel benedight,

Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist,
And more and less than King was he in this.
Opposite, represented at the window.

Of a great palace, Michal looked upon him,
Even as a woman scornful and afflicted.

I moved my feet from where I had been standing,
To examine near at hand another story,
Which after Michal glimmered white upon me.
There the high glory of the Roman Prince

Was chronicled, whose great beneficence
Moved Gregory to his great victory;
"Tis of the Emperor Trajan I am speaking;
And a poor widow at his bridle stood,
In attitude of weeping and of grief.

Around about him seemed it thronged and full
Of cavaliers, and the eagles in the gold
Above them visibly in the wind were moving.
The wretched woman in the midst of these

Seemed to be saying: "Give me vengeance, Lord,
For my dead son, for whom my heart is breaking."
And he to answer her: "Now wait until

I shall return." And she: "My Lord," like one
In whom grief is impatient, "shouldst thou not
Return?" And he: "Who shall be where I am

Will give it thee." And she: "Good deed of others
What boots it thee, if thou neglect thine own?"
Whence he: "Now comfort thee, for it behoves me
That I discharge my duty ere I move;
Justice so wills, and pity doth retain me."

He who on no new thing has ever looked
Was the creator of this visible language,
Novel to us, for here it is not found.

While I delighted me in contemplating
The images of such humility,

And dear to look on for their Maker's sake, "Behold, upon this side, but rare they make

Their steps," the Poet murmured, "many people;
These will direct us to the lofty stairs."

Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent

To see new things, of which they curious are, In turning round towards him were not slow. But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve From thy good purposes, because thou hearest How God ordaineth that the debt be paid; Attend not to the fashion of the torment,

Think of what follows; think that at the worst
It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence.
Master," began I, " that which I behold

Moving towards us seems to me not persons,
And what I know not, so in sight I waver."