Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke,     I with that heavy-laden soul went on,     As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted;

But when he said, “Leave him, and onward pass,     For here ’tis good that with the sail and oars,     As much as may be, each push on his barque;”

Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed     My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts     Remained within me downcast and abashed.

I had moved on, and followed willingly     The footsteps of my Master, and we both     Already showed how light of foot we were,

When unto me he said: “Cast down thine eyes;     ’Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way,     To look upon the bed beneath thy feet.”

As, that some memory may exist of them,     Above the buried dead their tombs in earth     Bear sculptured on them what they were before;

Whence often there we weep for them afresh,     From pricking of remembrance, which alone     To the compassionate doth set its spur;

So saw I there, but of a better semblance     In point of artifice, with figures covered     Whate’er as pathway from the mount projects.

I saw that one who was created noble     More than all other creatures, down from heaven     Flaming with lightnings fall upon one side.

I saw Briareus smitten by the dart     Celestial, lying on the other side,     Heavy upon the earth by mortal frost.

I saw Thymbraeus, Pallas saw, and Mars,     Still clad in armour round about their father,     Gaze at the scattered members of the giants.

I saw, at foot of his great labour, Nimrod,     As if bewildered, looking at the people     Who had been proud with him in Sennaar.

O Niobe! with what afflicted eyes     Thee I beheld upon the pathway traced,     Between thy seven and seven children slain!

O Saul! how fallen upon thy proper sword     Didst thou appear there lifeless in Gilboa,     That felt thereafter neither rain nor dew!

O mad Arachne! so I thee beheld     E’en then half spider, sad upon the shreds     Of fabric wrought in evil hour for thee!

O Rehoboam! no more seems to threaten     Thine image there; but full of consternation     A chariot bears it off, when none pursues!

Displayed moreo’er the adamantine pavement     How unto his own mother made Alcmaeon     Costly appear the luckless ornament;

Displayed how his own sons did throw themselves     Upon Sennacherib within the temple,     And how, he being dead, they left him there;

Displayed the ruin and the cruel carnage     That Tomyris wrought, when she to Cyrus said,     “Blood didst thou thirst for, and with blood I glut thee!”

Displayed how routed fled the Assyrians     After that Holofernes had been slain,     And likewise the remainder of that slaughter.

I saw there Troy in ashes and in caverns;     O Ilion! thee, how abject and debased,     Displayed the image that is there discerned!

Whoe’er of pencil master was or stile,     That could portray the shades and traits which there     Would cause each subtile genius to admire?

Dead seemed the dead, the living seemed alive;     Better than I saw not who saw the truth,     All that I trod upon while bowed I went.

Now wax ye proud, and on with looks uplifted,     Ye sons of Eve, and bow not down your faces     So that ye may behold your evil ways!

More of the mount by us was now encompassed,     And far more spent the circuit of the sun,     Than had the mind preoccupied imagined,

When he, who ever watchful in advance     Was going on, began: “Lift up thy head,     ’Tis no more time to go thus meditating.

Lo there an Angel who is making haste     To come towards us; lo, returning is     From service of the day the sixth handmaiden.

With reverence thine acts and looks adorn,     So that he may delight to speed us upward;     Think that this day will never dawn again.”

I was familiar with his admonition     Ever to lose no time; so on this theme     He could not unto me speak covertly.

Towards us came the being beautiful     Vested in white, and in his countenance     Such as appears the tremulous morning star.

His arms he opened, and opened then his wings;     “Come,” said he, “near at hand here are the steps,     And easy from henceforth is the ascent.”

At this announcement few are they who come!     O human creatures, born to soar aloft,     Why fall ye thus before a little wind?

He led us on to where the rock was cleft;     There smote upon my forehead with his wings,     Then a safe passage promised unto me.

As on the right hand, to ascend the mount     Where seated is the church that lordeth it     O’er the well-guided, above Rubaconte,

The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken     By stairways that were made there in the age     When still were safe the ledger and the stave,

E’en thus attempered is the bank which falls     Sheer downward from the second circle there;     But on this, side and that the high rock graze.

As we were turning thitherward our persons,     “Beati pauperes spiritu,” voices     Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not.

Ah me! how different are these entrances     From the Infernal! for with anthems here     One enters, and below with wild laments.

We now were hunting up the sacred stairs,     And it appeared to me by far more easy     Than on the plain it had appeared before.

Whence I: “My Master, say, what heavy thing     Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly     Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?”

He answered: “When the P’s which have remained     Still on thy face almost obliterate     Shall wholly, as the first is, be erased,

Thy feet will be so vanquished by good will,     That not alone they shall not feel fatigue,     But urging up will be to them delight.”

Then did I even as they do who are going     With something on the head to them unknown,     Unless the signs of others make them doubt,

Wherefore the hand to ascertain is helpful,     And seeks and finds, and doth fulfill the office     Which cannot be accomplished by the sight;

And with the fingers of the right hand spread     I found but six the letters, that had carved     Upon my temples he who bore the keys;

Upon beholding which my Leader smiled.