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

Now the fair consort of Tithonus old,     Arisen from her mate's beloved arms,     Look'd palely o'er the eastern cliff: her brow,     Lucent with jewels, glitter'd, set in sign     Of that chill animal, who with his train     Smites fearful nations: and where then we were,     Two steps of her ascent the night had past,     And now the third was closing up its wing,     When I, who had so much of Adam with me,     Sank down upon the grass, o'ercome with sleep,     There where all five were seated. In that hour,     When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,     Rememb'ring haply ancient grief, renews,     And with our minds more wand'rers from the flesh,     And less by thought restrain'd are, as 't were, full     Of holy divination in their dreams,     Then in a vision did I seem to view     A golden-feather'd eagle in the sky,     With open wings, and hov'ring for descent,     And I was in that place, methought, from whence     Young Ganymede, from his associates 'reft,     Was snatch'd aloft to the high consistory.     "Perhaps," thought I within me, "here alone     He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains     To pounce upon the prey." Therewith, it seem'd,     A little wheeling in his airy tour     Terrible as the lightning rush'd he down,     And snatch'd me upward even to the fire.     There both, I thought, the eagle and myself     Did burn; and so intense th' imagin'd flames,     That needs my sleep was broken off. As erst     Achilles shook himself, and round him roll'd     His waken'd eyeballs wond'ring where he was,     Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled     To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;     E'en thus I shook me, soon as from my face     The slumber parted, turning deadly pale,     Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my side     My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now     More than two hours aloft: and to the sea     My looks were turn'd. "Fear not," my master cried,     "Assur'd we are at happy point. Thy strength     Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come     To Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff     That circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there,     Where it doth seem disparted! re the dawn     Usher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soul     Slept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath     A lady came, and thus bespake me: "I     Am Lucia. Suffer me to take this man,     Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed."     Sordello and the other gentle shapes     Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,     This summit reach'd: and I pursued her steps.     Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyes     That open entrance show'd me; then at once     She vanish'd with thy sleep. Like one, whose doubts     Are chas'd by certainty, and terror turn'd     To comfort on discovery of the truth,     Such was the change in me: and as my guide     Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff     He mov'd, and I behind him, towards the height.     Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise,     Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully     I prop the structure! nearer now we drew,     Arriv'd' whence in that part, where first a breach     As of a wall appear'd, I could descry     A portal, and three steps beneath, that led     For inlet there, of different colour each,     And one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word.     As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,     I mark'd him seated on the highest step,     In visage such, as past my power to bear.     Grasp'd in his hand a naked sword, glanc'd back     The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain     My sight directed. "Speak from whence ye stand:"     He cried: "What would ye? Where is your escort?     Take heed your coming upward harm ye not."     "A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things,"     Replied the' instructor, "told us, even now,     "Pass that way: here the gate is." --"And may she     Befriending prosper your ascent," resum'd     The courteous keeper of the gate: "Come then     Before our steps." We straightway thither came.     The lowest stair was marble white so smooth     And polish'd, that therein my mirror'd form     Distinct I saw. The next of hue more dark     Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,     Crack'd lengthwise and across. The third, that lay     Massy above, seem'd porphyry, that flam'd     Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein.     On this God's angel either foot sustain'd,     Upon the threshold seated, which appear'd     A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps     My leader cheerily drew me. "Ask," said he,     "With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt."     Piously at his holy feet devolv'd     I cast me, praying him for pity's sake     That he would open to me: but first fell     Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times     The letter, that denotes the inward stain,     He on my forehead with the blunted point     Of his drawn sword inscrib'd. And "Look," he cried,     "When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away."     Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground,     Were of one colour with the robe he wore.     From underneath that vestment forth he drew     Two keys of metal twain: the one was gold,     Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,     And next the burnish'd, he so ply'd the gate,     As to content me well. "Whenever one     Faileth of these, that in the keyhole straight     It turn not, to this alley then expect     Access in vain." Such were the words he spake.     "One is more precious: but the other needs     Skill and sagacity, large share of each,     Ere its good task to disengage the knot     Be worthily perform'd. From Peter these     I hold, of him instructed, that I err     Rather in opening than in keeping fast;     So but the suppliant at my feet implore."     Then of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door,     Exclaiming, "Enter, but this warning hear:     He forth again departs who looks behind."     As in the hinges of that sacred ward     The swivels turn'd, sonorous metal strong,     Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily     Roar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereft     Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss     To leanness doom'd. Attentively I turn'd,     List'ning the thunder, that first issued forth;     And "We praise thee, O God," methought I heard     In accents blended with sweet melody.     The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound     Of choral voices, that in solemn chant     With organ mingle, and, now high and clear,     Come swelling, now float indistinct away.