The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Purgatory: Canto IV

When by sensations of delight or pain,     That any of our faculties hath seiz'd,     Entire the soul collects herself, it seems     She is intent upon that power alone,     And thus the error is disprov'd which holds     The soul not singly lighted in the breast.     And therefore when as aught is heard or seen,     That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn'd,     Time passes, and a man perceives it not.     For that, whereby he hearken, is one power,     Another that, which the whole spirit hash;     This is as it were bound, while that is free.     This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit     And wond'ring; for full fifty steps aloft     The sun had measur'd unobserv'd of me,     When we arriv'd where all with one accord     The spirits shouted, "Here is what ye ask."     A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp'd     With forked stake of thorn by villager,     When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,     By which my guide, and I behind him close,     Ascended solitary, when that troop     Departing left us. On Sanleo's road     Who journeys, or to Noli low descends,     Or mounts Bismantua's height, must use his feet;     But here a man had need to fly, I mean     With the swift wing and plumes of high desire,     Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope,     And with light furnish'd to direct my way.     We through the broken rock ascended, close     Pent on each side, while underneath the ground     Ask'd help of hands and feet. When we arriv'd     Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank,     Where the plain level open'd I exclaim'd,     "O master! say which way can we proceed?"     He answer'd, "Let no step of thine recede.     Behind me gain the mountain, till to us     Some practis'd guide appear." That eminence     Was lofty that no eye might reach its point,     And the side proudly rising, more than line     From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.     I wearied thus began: "Parent belov'd!     Turn, and behold how I remain alone,     If thou stay not."--" My son!" He straight reply'd,     "Thus far put forth thy strength;" and to a track     Pointed, that, on this side projecting, round     Circles the hill. His words so spurr'd me on,     That I behind him clamb'ring, forc'd myself,     Till my feet press'd the circuit plain beneath.     There both together seated, turn'd we round     To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft     Many beside have with delight look'd back.     First on the nether shores I turn'd my eyes,     Then rais'd them to the sun, and wond'ring mark'd     That from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv'd     That Poet sage now at the car of light     Amaz'd I stood, where 'twixt us and the north     Its course it enter'd. Whence he thus to me:     "Were Leda's offspring now in company     Of that broad mirror, that high up and low     Imparts his light beneath, thou might'st behold     The ruddy zodiac nearer to the bears     Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook.     How that may be if thou would'st think; within     Pond'ring, imagine Sion with this mount     Plac'd on the earth, so that to both be one     Horizon, and two hemispheres apart,     Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knew     To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see     How of necessity by this on one     He passes, while by that on the' other side,     If with clear view shine intellect attend."     "Of truth, kind teacher!" I exclaim'd, "so clear     Aught saw I never, as I now discern     Where seem'd my ken to fail, that the mid orb     Of the supernal motion (which in terms     Of art is called the Equator, and remains     Ever between the sun and winter) for the cause     Thou hast assign'd, from hence toward the north     Departs, when those who in the Hebrew land     Inhabit, see it tow'rds the warmer part.     But if it please thee, I would gladly know,     How far we have to journey: for the hill     Mounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount."     He thus to me: "Such is this steep ascent,     That it is ever difficult at first,     But, more a man proceeds, less evil grows.     When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much     That upward going shall be easy to thee.     As in a vessel to go down the tide,     Then of this path thou wilt have reach'd the end.     There hope to rest thee from thy toil. No more     I answer, and thus far for certain know."     As he his words had spoken, near to us     A voice there sounded: "Yet ye first perchance     May to repose you by constraint be led."     At sound thereof each turn'd, and on the left     A huge stone we beheld, of which nor I     Nor he before was ware. Thither we drew,     find there were some, who in the shady place     Behind the rock were standing, as a man     Thru' idleness might stand. Among them one,     Who seem'd to me much wearied, sat him down,     And with his arms did fold his knees about,     Holding his face between them downward bent.     "Sweet Sir!" I cry'd, "behold that man, who shows     Himself more idle, than if laziness     Were sister to him." Straight he turn'd to us,     And, o'er the thigh lifting his face, observ'd,     Then in these accents spake: "Up then, proceed     Thou valiant one." Straight who it was I knew;     Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath     Still somewhat urg'd me) hinder my approach.     And when I came to him, he scarce his head     Uplifted, saying "Well hast thou discern'd,     How from the left the sun his chariot leads."     His lazy acts and broken words my lips     To laughter somewhat mov'd; when I began:     "Belacqua, now for thee I grieve no more.     But tell, why thou art seated upright there?     Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?     Or blame I only shine accustom'd ways?"     Then he: "My brother, of what use to mount,     When to my suffering would not let me pass     The bird of God, who at the portal sits?     Behooves so long that heav'n first bear me round     Without its limits, as in life it bore,     Because I to the end repentant Sighs     Delay'd, if prayer do not aid me first,     That riseth up from heart which lives in grace.     What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?"'     Before me now the Poet up the mount     Ascending, cried: "Haste thee, for see the sun     Has touch'd the point meridian, and the night     Now covers with her foot Marocco's shore."