Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri — Read

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If e'er the sacred poem that hath made Both heav'n and earth copartners in its toil, And with lean abstinence, through many a year, Faded my brow, be destin'd to prevail Over the cruelty, which bars me forth Of the fair sheep-fold, where a sleeping lamb The wolves set on and fain had worried me, With other voice and fleece of other grain I shall forthwith return, and, standing up At my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath Due to the poet's temples: for I there First enter'd on the faith which maketh souls Acceptable to God: and, for its sake, Peter had then circled my forehead thus.

Next from the squadron, whence had issued forth The first fruit of Christ's vicars on the earth, Toward us mov'd a light, at view whereof My Lady, full of gladness, spake to me: "Lo! lo! behold the peer of mickle might, That makes Falicia throng'd with visitants!"

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