In that part of the youthful year wherein The Sun his locks beneath Aquarius tempers, And now the nights draw near to half the day, What time the hoar-frost copies on the ground The outward semblance of her sister white, But little lasts the temper of her pen, The husbandman, whose forage faileth him, Rises, and looks, and seeth the champaign All gleaming white, whereat he beats his flank, Returns in doors, and up and down laments, Like a poor wretch, who knows not what to do;
Then he returns and hope revives again, Seeing the world has changed its countenance In little time, and takes his shepherd's crook, And forth the little lambs to pasture drives.
Thus did the Master fill me with alarm, When I beheld his forehead so disturbed, And to the ailment came as soon the plaster.
For as we came unto the ruined bridge, The Leader turned to me with that sweet look Which at the mountain's foot I first beheld.
His arms he opened, after some advisement Within himself elected, looking first Well at the ruin, and laid hold of me.
And even as he who acts and meditates, For aye it seems that he provides beforehand, So upward lifting me towards the summit Of a huge rock, he scanned another crag, Saying: "To that one grapple afterwards, But try first if 'tis such that it will hold thee."
This was no way for one clothed with a cloak;
For hardly we, he light, and I pushed upward, Were able to ascend from jag to jag.
And had it not been, that upon that precinct Shorter was the ascent than on the other, He I know not, but I had been dead beat.
But because Malebolge tow'rds the mouth Of the profoundest well is all inclining, The structure of each valley doth import That one bank rises and the other sinks.
Still we arrived at length upon the point Wherefrom the last stone breaks itself asunder.
The breath was from my lungs so milked away, When I was up, that I could go no farther, Nay, I sat down upon my first arrival.
"Now it behoves thee thus to put off sloth,"
My Master said; "for sitting upon down, Or under quilt, one cometh not to fame, Withouten which whoso his life consumes Such vestige leaveth of himself on earth, As smoke in air or in the water foam.
And therefore raise thee up, o'ercome the anguish With spirit that o'ercometh every battle, If with its heavy body it sink not.
A longer stairway it behoves thee mount;
'Tis not enough from these to have departed;
Let it avail thee, if thou understand me."
Then I uprose, showing myself provided Better with breath than I did feel myself, And said: "Go on, for I am strong and bold."
Upward we took our way along the crag, Which jagged was, and narrow, and difficult, And more precipitous far than that before.
Speaking I went, not to appear exhausted;
Whereat a voice from the next moat came forth, Not well adapted to articulate words.
I know not what it said, though o'er the back I now was of the arch that passes there;
But he seemed moved to anger who was speaking.
I was bent downward, but my living eyes Could not attain the bottom, for the dark;
Wherefore I: "Master, see that thou arrive At the next round, and let us descend the wall;
For as from hence I hear and understand not, So I look down and nothing I distinguish."
