Divine Comedy

IN the year's early nonage, when the sun Tempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn, And now towards equal day the nights recede, When as the rime upon the earth puts on Her dazzling sister's image, but not long Her milder sway endures, then riseth up The village hind, whom fails his wintry store, And looking out beholds the plain around All whiten'd, whence impatiently he smites His thighs, and to his hut returning in, There paces to and fro, wailing his lot, As a discomfited and helpless man; Then comes he forth again, and feels new hope Spring in his bosom, finding e'en thus soon The world hath chang'd its count'nance, grasps his crook, And forth to pasture drives his little flock: So me my guide dishearten'd when I saw His troubled forehead, and so speedily That ill was cur'd; for at the fallen bridge Arriving, towards me with a look as sweet, He turn'd him back, as that I first beheld At the steep mountain's foot. Regarding well The ruin, and some counsel first maintain'd With his own thought, he open'd wide his arm And took me up. As one, who, while he works, Computes his labour's issue, that he seems Still to foresee the' effect, so lifting me Up to the summit of one peak, he fix'd His eye upon another. "Grapple that," Said he, "but first make proof, if it be such As will sustain thee." For one capp'd with lead This were no journey. Scarcely he, though light, And I, though onward push'd from crag to crag, Could mount. And if the precinct of this coast Were not less ample than the last, for him I know not, but my strength had surely fail'd. But Malebolge all toward the mouth Inclining of the nethermost abyss, The site of every valley hence requires, That one side upward slope, the other fall.

At length the point of our descent we reach'd From the last flag: soon as to that arriv'd, So was the breath exhausted from my lungs, I could no further, but did seat me there.