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Ere I was form'd, no things created were,
Save those eternal-I eternal last:
All hope abandon-ye who enter here."
These words, inscribed in colour dark, I saw
High on the summit of a portal vast;

Whereat I cried: "O master! with deep awe
Their sense I mark." Like one prepared, he said,
"Here from thy soul must doubt be cast away;
Here must each thought of cowardice be dead.-
Now, at that place I told thee of, arrived,

The melancholy shades shalt thou survey,
Of God-the mind's supremest good-deprived."
Then, as he clasp'd my hand with joyful mien,
That comfort gave, and bade me cease to fear,
He led me down into the world unseen.
There sobs, and wailings, and heart-rending cries,
Resounded through the starless atmosphere,
Whence tears began to gather in mine eyes.
Harsh tongues discordant-horrible discourse-
Words of despair-fierce accents of despite-
Striking of hands-with curses deep and hoarse,
Raised a loud tumult, which unceasing whirl'd
Throughout that gloom of everlasting night,
Like to the sand in circling eddies hurl'd.
Then (horror compassing my head around)

I cried: "O master, what is this I hear?

And who are these so plunged in grief profound ?" He answered me: "The groans which thou hast heard Proceed from those, who, when on earth they were, Nor praise deserved, nor infamy incurr'd.

Here with those caitiff angels they abide,
Whtood aloof in heaven-to God untrue,
Yet wanting courage with his foes to side.
Heaven drove them forth, its beauty not to stain;
And Hell refuses to receive them too:-

From them no glory could the damn'd obtain."

"O master, what infliction do they bear,"

I said, "which makes them raise such shrieks of woe?"

He answered: "That I will in brief declare.

No hope of death have this unhappy crew;

And their degraded life is sunk so low,
With envy every other state they view,

No record hath the world of this vile class,

Alike by Justice and by Pity spurn'd:

Speak we no more of them-but look-and pass."
And as I look'd, a banner I beheld,

That seem'd incapable of rest, and turn'd,
In one unvaried round for aye impell'd;

While shades were following in so long a train,
I ne'er forsooth could have believed it true

That Death such myriads of mankind had slain.
And when I had examined many a shade,

Behold! that abject one appear'd in view,
Who, mean of soul, the grand refusal made.
Straight I perceived, and distant recognised,
In that vast concourse the assembly vile
Of those by God and by his foes despised.
These wretched ones, who never were alive,
All naked stood, full sorely stung the while
By wasps and hornets that around them drive.

The cruel swarm bedew'd their cheeks with blood,
Which trickled to their feet with many a tear,
While worms disgusting drank the mingled flood.
Then, onward as I stretched mine eye, I saw

A mighty stream, with numbers standing near;
Whereat I said: "O master! by what law
Do these sad souls, whose state I fain would learn,
So eagerly to cross the river haste,

As by the doubtful twilight I discern?"

"These things," he answer'd me, "shall all be told, Soon as our feet upon the bank are placed

Of Acheron, that mournful river old."

Mine eyes cast down, my looks o'erwhelm'd with shame
Fearing my questions had oppress'd the sage,
I spake not till beside the stream we came.
Lo! in a vessel o'er the gloomy tide

An old man comes-his locks all white with age:"Woe, woe to you, ye guilty souls!" he cried; "Hope not that heaven shall ever bless your sight: I come to bear you to the other shore,To ice, and fire, in realms of endless night: And thou-who breathest still the vital airBegone-nor stay with these who live no more," But when he saw that yet I linger'd there"By other port," he said, "by other way,

And not by this, a passage must thou find;
Thee a far lighter vessel shall convey."
"Charon," my guide return'd, "thy wrath restrain
Thus it is willed where will and power are join'd;
Therefore submit, nor question us again."
The dark lake's pilot heard ;-and at the sound

Fell instant his rough cheeks, while flashing ranged
His angry eyes in flaming circles round.

But they-soon as these threatenings met their ear-
Poor, naked, weary souls-their colour changed;
And their teeth chatter'd through excess of fear.
God they blasphem'd, their parents, man's whole race,
The hour, the spot,-and e'en the very seed
To which their miserable life they trace:
Then, while full bitterly their sorrows flow'd,
They gather'd to that evil strand, decreed
To all who live not in the fear of God.
Charon, the fiend, with eyes of living coal,

Beckoning the mournful troop, collects them there,
And with his oar strikes each reluctant soul.
As leaves in autumn, borne before the wind,
Drop one by one, until the branch, laid bare,
Sees all its honours to the earth consign'd:
So cast them downward at his summons all

The guilty race of Adam from that strand,-
Each, as a falcon, answering to the call,
Thus pass they slowly o'er the water brown;
And ere on the opposing bank they land,
Fresh numbers to this shore come crowding down.
"All those, my son," exclaim'd the courteous guide,
"Who in the wrath of the Almighty die,

Are gather'd here from every region wide:

Goaded by heavenly Justice in its ire,
To pass the stream they rush thus hastily;
So that their fear is turn'd into desire.

By virtuous soul this wave is never cross'd;
Wherefore, if Charon warn thee to depart,
The meaning of his words will not be lost."
This converse closed-the dusky region dread
Trembled so awfully, that o'er my heart
Doth terror still a chilly moisture shed.
Sent forth a blast that melancholy realm,
Which, flashing a vermillion light around,
At once did all my senses overwhelm;
And down I sank like one in slumber bound.

331.-THE DIVINA COMMEDIA OF DANTE.-II.

Dante and his guide having passed over to the other shore, the poet found himself on the brink of an unfathomable abyss, dark and overspread with thick clouds. The Hell described by Dante is in the shape of a hollow inverted cone, whose aper is at the centre of the earth. The condemned are placed in nine parallel belts, or circles, round the cone, one below the other, like the ranges of seats in an amphitheatre. Descending into the first circle, the poet found himself in the Limbo-a place assigned by Roman Catholics to the souls of those who die without baptism, and are guiltless of actual sin, such as infants. Dante places also here many great men of antiquity; Homer and other poets; Socrates, Aristotle, Plato, and other philosophers; many Roman heroes and matrons; the first Brutus, "hawk-eyed Cæsar," Lucretia, Cornelia, &c.; and in one place "apart retired," the famous Saleheddin. This was the place assigned to Virgil himself. These spirits are subject to no pain, except sorrow at not being admitted into the presence of God in Paradise. Descending from thence into the second circle, Dante beheld at the entrance Minos, the judge of souls, who examines them all in turn, and consigns each to its respective place of punishment. Virgil having explained Dante's mission, the living poet is allowed to pass the judgment-seat unquestioned; after which

Into a place I came

Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan'd

A noise, as of a sea in tempest torn

By roaring winds. The stormy blast of Hell

With restless fury drives the spirits on,

Whirl'd round and dash'd amain with sore annoy.

When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,
There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,
And blasphemies 'gainst the good power in heaven.
I understood, that to this torment sad
The carnal sinners are condemn'd in whom
Reason by lust is sway'd. As in large troops
And multitudinous, when winter reigns,
The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;
So bears the tyrannous gust these evil souls.
On this side and on that, above, below,
It drives them: hope of rest to solace them
Is none, nor e'en of milder pang. As cranes,
Chanting their dol'rous notes, traverse the sky,
Stretch'd out in long array; so I beheld

Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on
By their dire doom.

'Inferno,' Canto v.

Here the poet saw, whirled round incessantly among the rest, Semiramis, Helen, Dido, Cleopatra, and other "dames and knights of ancient days" noted for being

addicted to carna, lusts. if loth to part company.

He also saw two souls flying together before the gust, as
As they drew near to him, he addressed them thus:—
'O wearied spirits! come and hold discourse
With us, if by none else restrain'd.'

Hearkening to the call, they came—as doves,
By fond desire invited, on wide wings

And firm, to their sweet nest returning home,
Cleave the air.

One of the two then addresses Dante thus:

"O gracious creature and benign! who go'st
Visiting, through this element obscure,
Us, who the world with bloody stain imbrued;
If, for a friend, the king of all we own'd,
Our pray'r to him should for thy peace arise,
Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.
Of whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse
It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that
Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind,
As now, is mute. The land that gave me birth
Is situate on the coast where Po descends
To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.

Love, that in gentle hearts is quickly learnt,
Entangled him by that fair form, from me
Ta'en in such cruel sort as grieves me still:
Love, that denial takes from none belov'd,
Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,
That, as thou see'st, hc yet deserts me not.
Love brought us to one death: Caina waits
The soul who spilt our life.'

The spirit which thus spoke was that of the beautiful and frail Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polento, lord of Ravenna, who was given by her father in marriage to Lanciotto Malatesta, son of the lord of Rimini, who was deformed in his person. Paolo, Lanciotto's brother, engaged the affections of his sister-in-law, and their guilt being discovered, they were both put to death by the husband. Dante, during his exile, was a guest of Guido da Polenta at Ravenna, when the recollection of the catastrophe was still recent. The poet represents himself as deeply affected by Francesca's narrative, and, after musing awhile, he thus addresses her :-

'Francesca, your sad fate

Even to tears my grief and pity moves.
But tell me, in the time of your sweet sighs,
By what, and how, Love granted that ye knew
Your yet uncertain wishes?' She replied-
'No greater grief than to remember days
Of joy, when mis'ry is at hand. That kens
Thy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly
If thou art bent to know the primal root
From whence our love gat being, I will do
As one who weeps and tells his tale. One day
For our delight we read of Lancelot,
How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no
Suspicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading
Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue
Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point
Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,
The wished smile, so rapturously kiss'd
By one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er
From me shall separate, at once my lips

All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both
Were Love's purveyors. In its leaves that day
We read no more. While thus one spirit spake,
The other wail'd so sorely, that, heart-struck,
I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far
From death, and like a corse fell to the ground,

Canto v.

In the next, or third circle, the poet sees the gluttons, who are punished by lying in the mire, under a continual storm of hail, snow, and muddy water; whilst Cerberus, the three-headed mastiff, barks over them and tears their limbs.

The fourth circle is occupied by the prodigal and the avaricious, and Plutus stands watching at the gate. The punishment of those who are confined in the fourth circle consists in rolling continually enormous stones one against the other, by pushing them with their breasts. The poet next proceeded to the fifth circle, in which he saw the wrathful and passionate, who lay plunged in the Stygian marsh, tearing each other to pieces with their nails and teeth. In the sixth circle is the city of Dis, with walls and minarets of iron, lighted by a fire within, which burns for ever. The arca of the city incloses a vast number of sepulchres, in which are buried heretics and infidels burning in the flames.

In the seventh circle Dante first meets with those who have committed violence against their neighbours, and who are immersed in a river of blood, from which, as they strive to escape, they are shot at with arrows by centaurs posted along the banks. This place of punishment is awarded to fierce conquerors, tyrants, and devastators of countries, among whom the poet enumerates Pyrrhus, Dionysius the Elder, Attila, Eccelino da Romano, &c.; also murderers, pirates, and highway robbers. He notices Guy de Montfort, son of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, who killed Prince Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, and nephew of Henry III. of England, in a church at Viterbo, in Italy, while Henry was kneeling before the altar, hearing mass. Guy committed this act to revenge his own father's death. (Holinshed's Chronicle,' A D. 1272.) In another compartment of the seventh circle are the self-murderers, and also those who squander away their property, or other blessings, which they have received from God; whoever

In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,

And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy.

Canto xi.

In the third compartment of the seventh circle are those who have done violence or openly revolted against God. They are all in a vast sandy plain, some stretched on their backs, others sitting, and others perpetually walking about, while flakes of fire are falling thick upon the sand.

Dante and Virgil then descend into the eighth circle, seated on the back of the monster Gorgon, who is the emblem of fraud :

Lo! the fell monster with the deadly sting,

Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls
And firm embattled spears, and with his filth

Taints all the world.

Canto xvii.

The eighth circle is divided into ten gulphs or compartments, each containing a particular class of sinners. The description of this circle occupies thirteen cantos (xviii. to xxx.), by which the poet intends to show the vast proportion of crimes committed through fraud, deceit, or treachery.

In the ninth gulf of the eighth circle are the sowers of scandal, schism, and heresy, with their limbs mangled and divided. Among them the poet saw Mahommed and Ali, besides several of his own contemporaries and countrymen. In the tenth gulf are the alchemists, forgers, and coiners, who are tormented by various loathsome diseases. Ono of them Adamo da Brescia, who had counterfeited the coin of

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