The Inferno: Canto I (Text)
The Dark Forest. The Hill of Difficulty. The Panther, the Lion, and the Wolf. Virgil.
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,
Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders,
Vested already with that planet's rays
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 to the water perilous and gazes;
So 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
At first in motion set those beauteous things;
So were to me occasion of good hope,
The variegated skin of that wild beast,
The hour of time, and the delicious season;
But not so much, that did not give me fear
A lion's aspect which appeared to me.
He 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 hungerings
Seemed to be laden in her meagreness,
And many folk has caused to live forlorn!
She brought upon me so much heaviness,
With the affright that from her aspect came,
That I the hope relinquished of the height.
And as he is who willingly acquires,
And the time comes that causes him to lose,
Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent,
E'en such made me that beast withouten peace,
Which, coming on against me by degrees
Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent.
While I was rushing downward to the lowland,
Before mine eyes did one present himself,
Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse.
When I beheld him in the desert vast,
"Have pity 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 country both of them.
'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,
And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
During the time of false and lying gods.
A poet was I, and I sang that just
Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
After that Ilion the superb was burned.
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 and that fountain
Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"
I made response to him with bashful forehead.
"O, of the other poets honour and light,
Avail me the long study and great love
That have impelled me to explore thy volume!
Thou art my master, and my author thou,
Thou art alone the one from whom I took
The beautiful style that has done honour to me.
Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble."
"Thee it behoves to take another road,"
Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
"If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;
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 malign and ruthless,
That never doth she glut her greedy will,
And 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 perish in her pain.
He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;
Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
On whose account the maid Camilla died,
Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;
Through every city shall he hunt her down,
Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
There from whence envy first did let her loose.
Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,
And lead thee hence through the eternal place,
Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
Who cry out each one for the second death;
And thou shalt see those who contented are
Within the fire, because they hope to come,
Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;
To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
With her at my departure I will leave thee;
Because that Emperor, who reigns above,
In that I was rebellious to his law,
Wills that through me none come into his city.
He governs everywhere, and there he reigns;
There is his city and his lofty throne;
O happy he whom thereto he elects!"
And I to him: "Poet, I thee entreat,
By that same God whom thou didst never know,
So that I may escape this woe and worse,
Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said,
That I may see the portal of Saint Peter,
And those thou makest so disconsolate."
Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.
Translation by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
ALTERNATE
Dante Alighieri (1265–1321). The Divine Comedy.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Inferno [Hell]
Canto I
ARGUMENT.—The writer, having lost his way in a gloomy forest, and being hindered by certain wild beasts from ascending a mountain, is met by Virgil, who promises to show him the punishments of Hell, and afterward of Purgatory; and that he shall then be conducted by Beatrice into Paradise. He follows the Roman poet.
IN the midway
1 of this our mortal life,
I found me in a gloomy wood, astray
Gone from the path direct: and e’en to tell,
It were no easy task, how savage wild
That forest, how robust and rough its growth, 5
Which to remember only, my dismay
Renews, in bitterness not far from death.
Yet, to discourse of what there good befel,
All else will I relate discover’d there.
How first I enter’d it I scarce can say, 10
Such sleepy dulness in that instant weigh’d
My senses down, when the true path I left;
But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where closed
The valley that had pierced my heart with dread,
I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broad 15
Already vested with that planet’s beam,
2Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.
Then was a little respite to the fear,
That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain
All of that night, so pitifully past: 20
And as a man, with difficult short breath,
Forespent with toiling, ’scaped from sea to shore,
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands
At gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’d,
Struggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits 25
That none hath passed and lived. My weary frame
After short pause recomforted, again
I journey’d on over that lonely steep,
The hinder foot
3 still firmer. Scarce the ascent
Began, when, lo! a panther,
4 nimble, light, 30
And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d;
Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d; rather strove
To check my onward going; that oft-times,
With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn’d.
The hour was morning’s prime, and on his way 35
Aloft the sun ascended with those stars,
5That with him rose when Love Divine first moved
Those its fair works: so that with joyous hope
All things conspired to fill me, the gay skin
Of that swift animal, the matin dawn, 40
And the sweet season. Soon that joy was chased.
And by new dread succeeded, when in view
A lion came, ’gainst me as it appear’d,
With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,
That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf 45
Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem’d
Full of all wants, and many a land hath made
Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear
O’erwhelm’d me, at the sight of her appall’d,
That of the height all hope I lost. As one, 50
Who, with his gain elated, sees the time
When all unawares is gone, he inwardly
Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,
Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,
Who coming o’er against me, by degrees 55
Impell’d me where the sun in silence rests.
While to the lower space with backward step
I fell, my ken discern’d the form of one
Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech.
When him in that great desert I espied, 60
“Have mercy on me,” cried I out aloud,
“Spirit! or living man! whate’er thou be.”
He answered: “Now not man, man once I was,
And born of Lombard parents, Mantuans both
By country, when the power of Julius yet 65
Was scarcely firm. At Rome my life was past,
Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time
Of fabled deities and false. A bard
Was I, and made Anchises’ upright son
The subject of my song, who came from Troy, 70
When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.
But thou, say wherefore to such perils past
Return’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount
Ascendest, cause and source of all delight?”
“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring, 75
From which such copious floods of eloquence
Have issued?” I with front abash’d replied.
“Glory and light of all the tuneful train!
May it avail me, that I long with zeal
Have sought thy volume, and with love immense 80
Have conn’d it o’er. My master thou, and guide!
Thou he from whom alone I have derived
That style, which for its beauty into fame
Exalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled.
O save me from her, thou illustrious sage! 85
For every vein and pulse throughout my frame
She hath made tremble.” He, soon as he saw
That I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needs
Another way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scape
From out that savage wilderness. This beast, 90
At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none
To pass, and no less hinderance makes than death:
So bad and so accursed in her kind,
That never sated is her ravenous will,
Still after food more craving than before. 95
To many an animal in wedlock vile
She fastens, and shall yet to many more,
Until that greyhound
6 come, who shall destroy
Her with sharp pain. He will not life support
By earth nor its base metals, but by love, 100
Wisdom, and virtue; and his land shall be
The land ’twixt either Feltro.
7 In his might
Shall safety to Italia’s plains arise,
For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,
Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell. 105
He, with incessant chase, through every town
Shall worry, until he to hell at length
Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.
I, for thy profit pondering, now devise
That thou mayst follow me; and I, thy guide, 110
Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,
Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see
Spirits of old tormented, who invoke
A second death;
8 and those next view, who dwell
Content in fire,
9 for that they hope to come, 115
Whene’er the time may be, among the blest,
Into whose regions if thou then desire
To ascend, a spirit worthier
10 than I
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,
Thou shalt be left; for that Almighty King, 120
Who reigns above, a rebel to His law
Adjudges me; and therefore hath decreed
That, to His city, none through me should come.
He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds
His citadel and throne. O happy those, 125
Whom there He chuses!” I to him in few:
“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,
I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse
I may escape) to lead me where thou said’st,
That I Saint Peter’s gate
11 may view, and those 130
Who, as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.”
Onward he moved, I close his steps pursued.
Note 1. “In the midway.” The era of the poem is intended by these words to be fixed to the thirty-fifth year of the poet’s age, A. D. 1300. In this Convito, human life is compared to an arch or bow, the highest point of which is, in those well framed by nature, at their thirty-fifth year. [back]
Note 2. “That planet’s beam.” The sun. [back]
Note 3. “The hinder foot.” In ascending a hill the weight of the body rests on the hinder foot. [back]
Note 4. “A panther.” Pleasure or luxury. [back]
Note 5. “With those stars.” The sun was in Aries, in which sign he supposes it to have begun its course at the creation. [back]
Note 6. This passage has been commonly understood as a eulogium on the liberal spirit of his Veronese patron, Can Grande della Scala. [back]
Note 7. Verona, the country of Can della Scala, is situated between Feltro, a city in the Marca Trivigiana, and Monte Feltro, a city in the territory of Urbino. [back]
Note 8. “A second death.” “And in these days men shall seek death, and shall not find it; and shall desire to die, and death shall flee from them.” Rev. ix. 6 [back]
Note 9. The spirits in Purgatory. [back]
Note 10. “A spirit worthier.” Beatrice, who conducts the Poet through Paradise. [back]
Note 11. The gate of Purgatory, which the Poet feigns to be guarded by an angel placed there by St. Peter. [back]
