Part 1

THE DIVINE COMEDY

by Dante Alighieri

Contents

INFERNO Canto I. Canto II. Canto III. Canto IV. Canto V. Canto VI. Canto VII. Canto VIII. Canto IX. Canto X. Canto XI. Canto XII. Canto XIII. Canto XIV. Canto XV. Canto XVI. Canto XVII. Canto XVIII. Canto XIX. Canto XX. Canto XXI. Canto XXII. Canto XXIII. Canto XXIV. Canto XXV. Canto XXVI. Canto XXVII. Canto XXVIII. Canto XXIX. Canto XXX. Canto XXXI. Canto XXXII. Canto XXXIII. Canto XXXIV.

PURGATORIO Canto I. Canto II. Canto III. Canto IV. Canto V. Canto VI. Canto VII. Canto VIII. Canto IX. Canto X. Canto XI. Canto XII. Canto XIII. Canto XIV. Canto XV. Canto XVI. Canto XVII. Canto XVIII. Canto XIX. Canto XX. Canto XXI. Canto XXII. Canto XXIII. Canto XXIV. Canto XXV. Canto XXVI. Canto XXVII. Canto XXVIII. Canto XXIX. Canto XXX. Canto XXXI. Canto XXXII. Canto XXXIII.

PARADISO Canto I. Canto II. Canto III. Canto IV. Canto V. Canto VI. Canto VII. Canto VIII. Canto IX. Canto X. Canto XI. Canto XII. Canto XIII. Canto XIV. Canto XV. Canto XVI. Canto XVII. Canto XVIII. Canto XIX. Canto XX. Canto XXI. Canto XXII. Canto XXIII. Canto XXIV. Canto XXV. Canto XXVI. Canto XXVII. Canto XXVIII. Canto XXIX. Canto XXX. Canto XXXI. Canto XXXII. Canto XXXIII.

INFERNO

Inferno Canto I

Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the fear!

So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way.

But after I had reached a mountain's foot, At that point where the valley terminated Which had with consternation pierced my heart,

I looked on high, and saw its shoulders vested Already with the rays of that bright planet Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little quieted That in my heart's lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously.

And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns back to look upon the perilous water,

Thus did my soul, that still was fleeing onward, Turn itself back to re-behold the pass Which never yet a living person left.

After my weary body I had rested, The way resumed I on the desert slope, So that the firm foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the ascent began, A panther light and swift exceedingly, Which with a spotted skin was covered o'er!

And never moved she from before my face, Nay, rather did impede so much my way, That many times I to return had turned.

The time was the beginning of the morning, And up the sun was mounting with those stars That with him were, what time the Love Divine

First moved those beauteous things; so that the hour Of time and gentle season of the year Did me behold auspicious for the beast

That had the gay and variegated skin; But not so that the sight of a lion Did not afford me fear at its appearance,

Which seemed as if against me he were coming With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger, So that it seemed the air was afraid of him.

And a she-wolf, that with all cravings Seemed laden in her leanness; and erewhile Full many folk has made to live forlorn,

She brought upon me such a heaviness With the affright that from her aspect came, That I the hope abandoned of the height.

And as he is who willingly acquires, And the time comes that makes him lose the wealth, Who weeps in all his thoughts and is dejected,

Such made me that beast withouten peace, Which, coming on before me by degrees, Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.

While that I downward fell before her sight, Before mine eyes appeared one, who seemed By reason of long silence hoarse and faint.

When I beheld him in the desert vast, "Have mercy on me," unto him I cried, "Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!"

He answered me: "Not man; man once I was, And both my parents were of Lombardy, And Mantuans by their native country both.

I was born subject to the Caesar's star, Though late, and lived at Rome under the good Augustus, in the time of false and lying gods.

A poet was I, and I sang of that Just son of Anchises, who came from Troy, After the proud Ilion was burnt.

But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance? Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable, Which is the source and cause of every joy?"

"Now art thou that Virgilius, that fountain Which pourest forth so great a stream of speech?" I answered him with bashful forehead turned.

"O glory and light of all other poets, May the long study and the great love That have impelled me to explore thy volume

Avail me! Thou art my master and my author; Thou only art the one from whom I took The beautiful style that has done honour to me.

Behold the beast, for which I turned aside; Help me against her, famous sage, For she makes my veins and pulses tremble."

"Thee it behoves to take another road," He answered, when he saw me weeping, "if thou Wouldst flee this savage place;

Because this beast, at which thou criest out, Suffers not any one to pass her way, But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;

And has a nature so perverse and cruel, That never doth she glut her greedy will, But after food is hungrier than before.

Many the animals with whom she weds, And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound Comes, who shall make her die in agony.

He shall not feed on either land or pelf, But wisdom, love, and valour; and his nation Shall be between Feltro and Feltro. He

Shall be the salvation of that lowly Italy, for which the virgin Camilla, Turnus, and Nisus, and Euryalus, died.

Through every town he shall pursue her, Until he drive her back to Hell again, Whence envy first did let her loose. Therefore

I think and judge it for thy best, that thou Shouldst follow me, and I will be thy guide, And lead thee hence through an eternal place,

Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations, Shalt see the ancient spirits in their pain, Who call the second death of each one cried;

And those shalt see who are contented in The fire, because they hope to come, whene'er It may be, to the blessed folk. To these

If thou desire to ascend, a soul There is, more worthy than I, with whom At my departure I will leave thee. For

That Emperor, who reigns above, because I was rebellious to His law, wills not That through my means one come into His city.

In all parts He is King, and there He rules; There is His city and His lofty seat: O happy he whom thereto He elects!"

And I to him: "Poet, I thee beseech, By that same God whom thou didst never know, That I may 'scape this evil and the worse,

Thou lead me where thou now hast said, that I May see the gate of Saint Peter, and those Whom thou dost make so woeful."

Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.

Inferno Canto II

The day was departing, and the dusky air Released the animals that are on earth From their fatigues; and I the only one

Made myself ready to sustain the war Both of the way and of the pity, which Shall not let memory err that hath conceived it.

O Muses, O high genius, now assist me! O memory, that didst write down what I saw, Here shall thy nobleness be manifest!

I thus began: "Poet, who guidest me, Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient, Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me.

Thou sayest, that of Silvius the parent, While yet corruptible, unto the world Immortal went, and was there sensibly.

But if the adversary of all evil Was courteous, thinking of the high effect That should proceed from him, and who and what,

It does not seem unseemly unto wise Men; for he was of Rome, and of her empire In the empyreal heaven as father chosen;

Which and whom, to speak the truth, were stablished For the holy place where sits the successor Of the great Peter. By this journeying

Upon which thou dost give him vaunt, he heard Things which were the occasion of his victory And of the papal mantle. Afterward

The vessel of election went thither, To bring back comfort unto that belief Which is the beginning of the way to save.

But I, why thither come, or who concedes it? I am not Aeneas, am not Paul; Myself nor others think me worthy of it.

Hence, if I yield and come, I fear the coming May be ill-advised. Thou'rt wise, and know'st My meaning better than I speak it."

And as he is who unwills what he willed, And by new thoughts doth change his first resolve, So that he quite withdraws from his beginning,

Such I became on that dark hillside; Because, in thinking, I consumed the enterprise Which was so very prompt in the beginning.

"If I have rightly heard thy utterance," The shade of that magnanimous one replied, "Thy soul is by vile cowardice assailed,

Which oftentimes encumbers man so much That he is turned aside from honoured enterprise, As from a false sight beast at the shadow.

That thou mayst free thee from this dread, I'll tell thee why I came, and what I heard at first When I was moved with pity for thee.

I was among those who are suspended, And a fair, blessed lady called to me, So that I prayed her to command my service.

Her eyes were brighter than the star; and she Began to say to me, soft and gentle, With angelic voice, in her own tongue:

'O courteous Mantuan soul, of whom the fame Still lasts in the world, and shall endure As long as motion lasts, my friend, not foe

To fortune, on the desert slope is hindered So on his road, that he has turned through terror; And I fear he may have gone astray,

So that too late I rose to his succour, From what I heard of him in heaven above. Now move, and with thy ornate speech, and all

That is required for his deliverance, Assist him so, that I may be consoled. I am Beatrice, who do bid thee go;

I come from where I would return; Love moved me, Which makes me speak. When I shall be before My Lord, I'll praise thee often unto Him.'

Then paused she, and I began: 'O lady Of virtue, thou alone through whom the human Species exceeds all contained in the heaven

That has the lesser circles, so much doth Thy bidding please me, that to obey, if 'twere Already done, were late; more open thou

Need'st not make to me thy will. But tell me the cause, why thou descendest not from Heaven Into this centre of the vast abyss.'

'Since thou wouldst know so inwardly,' she said, 'I'll tell thee briefly, why I do not fear To enter here below. Only those things

Need be feared which have power to do us harm; Of others, no, for they are not to fear. I am so made by God, His grace be thanked,

That your misery toucheth me not, Nor any flame of this fierce burning assails me. A gentle lady is in heaven who grieves

For this impediment, where I do send thee, So that stern judgment there above is broken. She called for Lucy in her supplication,

And said: "Thy faithful one now standeth in need Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him." Lucy, foe of every cruel one,

Moved, and came to the place where I was seated With the antique Rachel. She said: "O Beatrice, True praise of God, why dost thou not succour

Him who so loved thee, that for thee he issued From the vulgar herd? Dost thou not hear His piteous weeping, seest thou not the death

That combats him upon the flood, where ocean Boasts not?" There are not upon the earth Persons more swift to seek their good, or flee

Their harm, than I, after such words were spoken, Came down from my blessed seat, trusting In thy fair speech, which honours thee and those

Who have heard it.' After she had told Me this, she turned her tearful, shining eyes, Whereat I came the quicker at her bidding;

And came to thee as she desired; from before That beast I took thee, who from the fair mount Shortened the way to thee. What then is this?

Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy heart Dost harbour such cowardice? why hast thou Not boldness and free courage, since three blessed

Dames care for thee in the court of heaven, And my speech promises thee so much good?"

Even as the little flowers, by the chill Of night bent down and closed, when the sun whitens Them, straighten all upon their stems upright,

Such I became with my exhausted virtue, And such good courage ran into my heart, That I began, as one set free: "O she

Compassionate, who succoured me! and thou Courteous, who didst obey so soon the words Of truth which she addressed to thee! With desire

Thou hast disposed my heart to come with thee, By thy fair words; so I have changed my purpose To the first. Now go; for one sole will is in us both:

Thou guide, thou lord, thou master." Thus I said To him; and when he moved, I entered on The deep and savage way.

Inferno Canto III

"Through me the way is to the city dolent; Through me the way is to eternal dole; Through me the way among the people lost.

Justice incited my sublime Creator; Made me divine Omnipotence, the Highest Wisdom, and the Primal Love Eternal.

Before me there were no things created, Except eterne, and I eterne endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter in!"

These words of dim meaning I beheld Inscribed upon the summit of a gate; Whereat I: "Master, their sense is hard to me."

And he to me, as one experienced: "Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned; All cowardice must needs be here extinct.

We to the place have come, where I have told thee Thou shalt behold the wretched people who Have lost the good of intellect."

And after he had laid his hand on mine With joyful countenance, whence I was comforted, He led me in among the secret things.

There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud Resounded through the air without a star, Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.

Diverse tongues, horrible dialects, Words of pain, accents of anger, voices High and faint, and sound of hands with them,

Made up a tumult that goes whirling on Forever in that air forever stained, As sand doth when the whirlwind breathes.

And I, who had my brow with error bound, Said: "Master, what is this that I hear now? And who are these, that seem so overcome

By their distress?" And he to me: "This miserable mode The wretched souls maintain of those who lived Withouten infamy, and withouten praise.

Commingled are they with that caitiff choir Of angels, who were neither rebels nor Faithful to God, but for themselves alone.

The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair; Nor them the nethermost abyss receives, For glory none the wicked would have from them."

And I: "Master, what is so grievous to them, That makes them wail so mightily?" He said: "I'll tell thee very briefly. These have no

Hope of death; and their blind life is so base, That they are envious of every other fate. The world permits no fame of them to live;

Mercy and Justice both of them disdain. Let us not speak of them, but look and pass." And I, who looked, beheld a banner, which

Whirling along came on so rapidly, That it appeared as if it mocked all rest; And after it there came so long a train

Of people, that I never would have believed That death so many had undone. When some Among them I had recognised, I saw

And knew the shade of him who made the great Refusal through cowardice. Forthwith I knew And was assured, this was the sect of caitiffs,

Hateful to God and to His enemies. These wretches, who were never truly alive, Were naked, and were stung exceedingly

By gadflies and by hornets that were there. These made their faces stream with blood, which, Mixed with their tears, was gathered at their feet

By loathsome worms. And after I had looked Beyond them, I beheld a throng upon The bank of a great river; whereat I said:

"Master, now grant me, I beseech thee, that I May know who these are, and what law it is That makes them seem so eager to pass over,

As I discern amid the dim light." And he To me: "The things shall be made known to thee When we shall stay our steps upon the mournful

Shore of Acheron." Then with eyes ashamed And downcast, fearing lest my words were grievous, I held my speech until we reached the river.

And lo! towards us, coming in a boat, An old man, hoary with the hair of eld, Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!

Hope nevermore to see the heavens; I come To lead you to the other bank, into Eternal darkness, in the heat and cold.

And thou, who yonder art, a living soul, Withdraw thee from these people, who are dead." But when he saw I did not withdraw,

He said: "By other ways, by other ports Thou to the shore shalt come, not here, to pass; A lighter vessel needs must carry thee."

And my guide to him: "Charon, vex thee not; It is so willed there where is power to do Whate'er is willed; and ask no more than that."

Quieted were the shaggy cheeks of him, The ferryman of the livid fen, who round About his eyes had wheels of flaming fire.

But those souls, who were weary and naked, Changed colour, and their teeth began to chatter As soon as they had heard his cruel words.

They blasphemed God, and their own parents, The human race, the place, the time, the seed Of their begetting, and of their birth.

Then all of them drew back together, weeping, Unto the accursed shore, which waits for every man Who fears not God. The demon Charon, with

Eyes of glowing coal, beckoning to them, Collects them all; he smites with oar whoever Lags in the boat. And as in autumn time

The leaves depart, one after other, till The branch sees all its spoils upon the ground, Even so, one by one, the evil seed

Of Adam cast themselves from that shore at his Beckon, as bird at its recall. Thus go They o'er the brown wave; and before they have

Disembarked upon the farther side, This side a new throng gathers. "Son," said The courteous master, "those who die in wrath

Of God, from every country hither come; And ready are they to pass o'er the stream, For the divine justice spurs them so,

That fear is turned to longing. No good soul E'er passes here; and hence if Charon chide thee, Thou now mayst know the meaning of his words."

This said, the dark champaign so trembled, That of the terror still my sweat bathes me At the remembrance. The tearful ground

Gave forth a wind, that flashed a vermil light Which overcame in me each sense, and I Fell like a man whom sleep hath seized.

Inferno Canto IV

A heavy thunder broke within my head The lofty slumber, so that I upstarted Like one whom force awakes; and round about

Roused up my rested eye, I straightway raised Myself upright, and looked with steadfast gaze To know the place wherein I had been cast.

True is it, on the margin I found me Of the valley of the dolorous abyss, That gathers in its thunder all the woes.

Obscure, profound, and nebulous it was, So that, though I bent down my sight to the bottom, I could discern there nothing whatsoever.

"Now let us down descend into the blind world," The poet, all pallid, thus began; "I will be first, and thou shalt second be."

And I, who of his colour was aware, Said: "How shall I come, if thou art afraid, Who art wont to be my comfort in my doubt?"

And he to me: "The anguish of the people Who are below here, on my face depicts That pity which thou for thy fear dost feel.

Let us go on, for the long way impels us." Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter The first circle that surrounds the abyss.

There, as by listening I could discern, No plaint was there except of sighs, that made The eternal air to tremble; and this came

From grief without torment, which the crowds, Who were full many and of great extent, Of infants, and of women, and of men,

Had in them. The good master said to me: "Thou askest not what spirits these may be, Which thou beholdest? Now I would have thee know,

Before thou goest farther, that they sinned not; And if they have their merits, it suffices not, Because they had not baptism, which is

The portal of the faith which thou believest; And if they were before Christianity, They worshipped not God aright: and of such

Am I myself. For such defects, and not For other fault, are we lost, and only So far afflicted, that without hope we live

In longing." Great grief seized upon my heart When I heard this, because of people of much worth I knew who in that limbo were suspended.

"Tell me, my master, tell me, O my lord," I thus began, desirous to be certain Of that faith which o'ercometh every error:

"Did ever any one, by his own merit, Or by another's, issue forth from here Who afterwards was blessed?" And he, who knew

My covert speech, replied: "I was a novice In this condition, when I saw a Mighty One Come hither, crowned with sign of victory.

He drew forth from here the shade of the first Parent, of his son Abel, and that of Noah, Of Moses the lawgiver and obedient;

Abraham the patriarch, and David king, Israel with his father and his children, And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,

And others many, and He made them blessed. And I would have thee know, that never, prior To these, was human spirit saved." We ceased not

Our going, though he spoke, but passed the wood, The wood, I say, of spirits dense. Not far Was yet our way from where I slept, when I

Beheld a fire, that overcame a hemisphere Of darkness. We were still a little distant, But not so far that I discerned not in part

That honourable people held that place. "O thou who honourest science and art, Who are these, that have so great honour, That from the mode of the others separates them?"

And he to me: "The honoured renown That of them sounds above within thy life, Wins grace in heaven that so advances them."

Meanwhile a voice was heard by me: "Honour The loftiest poet; his shade, that had departed, Returns." After the voice had rested, quiet,

I saw four mighty shades towards us come; In semblance they were neither sad nor glad. The good master began to say: "Mark him

Who bears the sword in hand, and comes before The three, as lord: that one is Homer, sovereign Poet; the next is Horace, the satirist;

Ovid is the third, and Lucan the last. Because to each of them I am akin In the name that the single voice proclaimed,

They do me honour, and in this do well." Thus I beheld united the fair school Of that lord of the loftiest song, who flies

Above the others as an eagle flies. After they had discoursed somewhat together, They turned to me with signs of salutation,

And my master smiled thereat; and more Of honour still they did me, in that they Made me of their own band, so that I was

Sixth amid so much wisdom. Thus we went On even to the light, discoursing things Which it is well to be silent of there, as

'Twas fair to speak of there where we were. We came Unto the foot of a noble castle, seven times Encircled by high walls, defended round

By a fair little stream. This we passed over As if 'twere solid ground; through seven gates I entered with those sages; we arrived

In a meadow of fresh verdure. People were there With eyes that were both slow and grave, of great Authority in their aspect; they spake

Rarely, with gentle voices. Thus withdrawing Ourselves from them, upon an open, luminous, And lofty place, we came, so that they all

Might be beheld. There, right upon the green Enamel, were shown me the magnanimous Spirits, at whose sight I inwardly exalt.

I saw Electra with her many companions, Among whom I knew both Hector and Aeneas, Caesar in arms with his falcon eyes.

I saw Camilla and Penthesilea; Upon the other side I saw the king Latinus, seated with Lavinia his daughter.

I saw that Brutus who drove out Tarquin, Lucretia, Julia, Martia, and Cornelia; And, all alone, apart, the Saladin.

After I raised my brows a little more, I saw the master of those who know, seated Amid the philosophic family.

All gaze on him, all do him honour: there I saw Socrates and Plato, who before The others stand most near unto him;

Democritus, who puts the world on chance; Diogenes, Anaxagoras, and Thales, Empedocles, Heraclitus, and Zeno;

And I saw the good collector of simples, Dioscorides I mean; and Orpheus saw, Tullius and Linus and moral Seneca;

Euclid the geometrician, and Ptolemy, Hippocrates, Avicenna, and Galen, Averroes, who the great comment made.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”