Inferno: Canto IV

Broke the deep slumber in my brain, a hoarse
And heavy thunder: — starting I awoke.
E'en like to one who is aroused by force:

And straightway rising up, around I turn
My rested eye, and gaze with stedfast look.
The place wherein I found me to discern.

Beneath me lay, in truth, the Vale of Woe,
In whose abyss eternal groans unite.
And blend their thunders in the depth below.

Obscure it was, — so cloudy — deep — and dense.
That though to pierce the gloom I strain'd my sight.
Nought could I see within the gulf immense.

"Now go we down to dusky regions blind,"
All pale the illustrious bard began to say;
"I lead the way— do thou pursue behind."

Then I exclaim'd, of his pale looks aware,
"How shall I speed, if thou dost feel dismay.
Thou — who art wont to cheer me in despair?"

He answer'd me: "The loud laments I hear
From tortured souls beneath us, on my face
Pourtray that pity thou mistak'st for fear;

But let us on — for we have far to go."
Then pass'd we both within that circle's space
Which first encompasses the Vale of Woe.

No wailings there were audible, — the sound
Of sighs alone was heard — convulsive sighs.
That made the eternal air to tremble round.

Yet from no torture this deep sorrow flow'd.
But 'neath the weight of mental agonies.
Men — women — children sigh'd, — a countless crowd.

"Dost thou not wish to learn," my master said,
"What souls their sad condition here bewail?
This would I have thee know, ere thou proceed —

They sinn'd not; but the good they 'may have wrought,
For want of baptism, is of no avail; —
A doctrine of the faith thou hast been taught:

And if they lived ere Christ brought saving grace,
To pay to God due worship they forbore,
And I am one of this benighted race.

For these defects, and these defects alone.
Heaven have we lost; — nor do we suffer more.
Than to desire, when all our hopes are gone."

Deep sorrow at his words my soul o'ercame,
For in this Limbo knew I many a wight
Once high distinguished in the ranks of fame.

"Tell me, my lord and master," I rejoin'd, —
"(That of the faith which error puts to flight
A full assurance might possess my mind,) —

Did spirit e'er go hence, who by his own
Or other's worth in aftertime was blest?"
And he, to whom my covert speech was known.

Gave answer: "I had lately reach'd this round.
When lo! arrived a great and glorious Guest,
Whose head with a victorious wreath was crown'd.

The soul of man's first parent hence he drew,
Abel his son, and also Noah's shade,
Moses the lawgiver; and just and true

The Patriarch Abraham: David, — Israel,
His father, and his sons that call obeyed.
And Rachael fair, whose love he earn'd so well.

For these and many others grace he gain'd:
Know — that till these with happiness were blest.
No human souls salvation e'er attained."

While thus he spoke, our journey we pursued,
And onward through the shadowy wood we pass'd.
The wood of souls I mean — so thick they stood.

Not far had we descended from the height,
When I observed a flame so brightly burn.
That it overcame the hemisphere of night.

Though we were distant still some little space,
A noble band, I partly could discern,
Inhabited this ample dwelling place.

"O glory thou of science and of art!
Say who are these, with such bright honours crown'd
That from the vulgar throng they dwell apart?"

Then answered he: "Their honourable fame.
Which in your world continues to resound.
Gains grace in heaven, and here exalts their name."

Meanwhile a voice exclaim'd in lofty strain:
"Let honour to the mighty bard be paid;
His shade that left us, now returns again."

Ceased had the voice — when in composed array
Four mighty shades approaching I surveyed; —
Nor joy, nor sorrow, did their looks betray.

"Him," said my gracious master, "now admire,
Who in his warlike arm uplifts a sword, —
Before the rest advancing as their sire:

Lo, this is Homer —bard surpassing all;
The next is Horace; Ovid is the third;
Lucan the last, who sang great Pompey's fall.

And since to each appropriate is the name
Which their united voice assigned to me.
In honouring me, to them redounds the fame,"

Assembled thus, was offered to my sight
The school of him, the prince of poetry.
Who eagle like o'er others takes his flight.

Apart retiring they conversed awhile;
Then beckon'd to me with a gracious sign.
Whereat my master view'd me with a smile:

And greater glory still they bade me share;
Their honourable troop they made me join —
The sixth united to such talent rare.

Thus we proceeded till we reach'd the flame,
Speaking of things I may not now recall.
However well they then the place became.

We reach'd ere long a noble castle's base.
Seven times surrounded by a lofty wall:
A beauteous streamlet flow'd around the place;

And this we pass'd as though 'twere solid land.
Through seven fair gates I went with these the Wise,
And gain'd a verdant meadow, fresh and bland.

There souls I saw, whose grave and lofty mien
Spoke dignity; — they slowly moved their eyes;
Their words were sweet, but few and far between.

Our steps aside we gently thence withdrew,
And reach'd an opening, spacious, light, and high.
Where all became apparent to our view.

There on the verdant and enamelled green
Were mighty spirits shown to me — whom I
Felt exaltation to have even seen.

I saw Electra, and could recognize
Hector, Æneas, 'mid a numerous band.
And mighty Caesar arm'd with griffin eyes.

Penthesilea, and Camilla there
I saw conspicuous on the other hand.
And king Latinus, with Lavinia fair.

Brutus, who chased proud Tarquin from the throne;
Lucretia, Julia, Marcia I survey'd,
And gallant Saladin, who sat alone.

When I had somewhat higher raised my brow.
Amid a learned company array'd.
The master of philosophy I view:

Honoured by all — on him all eyes are cast.
Nearest, amid the sage assembly, stood
Plato and Socrates, before the rest.

Him who attributed the world to chance,
Diogenes, and Thales too I view'd;
Dioscorides, who science did advance.

There saw I Zeno, and Empedocles,
Orpheus the bard, and Seneca the wise;
With Livy, Tully, and Hippocrates,

Galieno, Avicen, and more of note:
Euclid and Ptolemy there met mine eyes,
Averroes, who the learned comment wrote.

I cannot now the names of more detail; —
Spurr'd on to haste by all I fain would say.
Full oft my pen must in description fail.

In twain the band of six divided there:
My guide conducts me by another way
Forth from the tranquil to the trembling air;

And now I came where all in darkness lay.