And far as eye of mine could wing its flight,

Now on the left, and on the right flank now,

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The same this cornice did appear to me.
Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet,
When I perceived the embankment round about,
Which all right of ascent had interdicted,
To be of marble white, and so adorned

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With sculptures, that not only Polycletus,
But Nature's self, had there been put to shame.
The Angel, who came down to earth with tidings
Of peace, that had been wept for many a year, 35
And opened Heaven from its long interdict,
In front of us appeared so truthfully

There sculptured in a gracious attitude,

He did not seem an image that is silent.
One would have sworn that he was saying, " Ave";
For she was there in effigy portrayed

Who turned the key to ope the exalted love, And in her mien this language had impressed, "Ecce ancilla Dei," as distinctly

As any figure stamps itself in wax.

'Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,"

The gentle Master said, who had me standing
Upon that side where people have their hearts;
Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheld

In rear of Mary, and upon that side
Where he was standing who conducted me,
Another story on the rock imposed;

Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near,
So that before mine eyes it might be set.

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There sculptured in the self-same marble were
The cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark,
Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed.
People appeared in front, and all of them
Into seven choirs divided, of two senses

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Made one say, "No," the other, "Yes, they sing." 60 Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense,

Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and nose Were in the yes and no discordant made. Preceded there the vessel benedight,

Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist, 65 And more and less than King was he in this. Opposite, represented at the window

Of a great palace, Michal looked upon him,
Even as a woman scornful and afflicted.

I moved my feet from where I had been standing, 70
To examine near at hand another story,

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Which after Michal glimmered white upon me. There the high glory of the Roman Prince Was chronicled, whose great beneficence Moved Gregory to his great victory; 'T is of the Emperor Trajan that I speak; And a poor widow at his bridle stood, In attitude of weeping and of grief. Around about him seemed it thronged and full Of cavaliers, and the eagles in the gold Above them visibly in the wind were moving. The wretched woman in the midst of these Seemed to be saying: "Give me vengeance, Lord, For my dead son, for whom my heart is breaking."

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And he to answer her: "Now wait until

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I shall return." And she: " My Lord," like one In whom grief is impatient, "shouldst thou not Return?" And he : "Who shall be where I am Will give it thee." And she: "Good deed of others What boots it thee, if thou neglect thine own?" 90 Whence he : "Now comfort thee, for it behoves me That I discharge my duty ere I move;

Justice so wills, and pity doth retain me.” He who on no new thing hath ever looked Was the creator of this visible language, Novel to us, for here it is not found. While I delighted me in contemplating The images of such humility,

And dear to look on for their Maker's sake,

'Behold, upon this side, but rare they make

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Their steps," the Poet murmured, " many people; These will direct us to the lofty stairs." Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent

To see new things, of which they curious are, In turning round towards him were not slow. 105 But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve From thy good purposes, because thou hearest How God ordaineth that the debt be paid;

Attend not to the fashion of the torment,

Think of what follows; think that at the worst 110 It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence. "Master," began I, " that which I behold.

Moving towards us seems to me not persons,
And what I know not, so in sight I waver."

And he to me: "The grievous quality

Of this their torment bows them so to earth, That my own eyes at first had strife with it; But look there fixedly, and disentangle

By sight what cometh underneath those stones; Already canst thou see how each is stricken." O ye proud Christians! wretched, weary ones! Who, in the vision of the mind infirm, Confidence have in your backsliding steps, ye not comprehend that we are worms, Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly That flieth unto judgment without screen? Wherefore your spirit doth it float on high? Like are ye unto insects undeveloped,

Do

Even as the worm in which formation fails!
As to sustain a ceiling or a roof,

In place of corbel, oftentimes a figure
Is seen to join its knees unto its breast,
Which makes of the unreal real anguish
Arise in him who sees it; fashioned thus

Beheld I those, when I had ta'en good heed.
True is it, they were more or less bent down,

According as they more or less were laden ; And he who had most patience in his looks Weeping did seem to say, "I can no more!"

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CANTO XI.

UR Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens, buterom the

Not circumscribed, but from the greater love Thou bearest to the first effects on high, Praised be thy name and thine omnipotence By every creature, as befitting is

To render thanks to thy sweet effluence. Come unto us the peace of thy dominion,

For unto it we cannot of ourselves, If it come not, with all our intellect. Even as thine own Angels of their will

Make sacrifice to thee, Hosanna singing, So may all men make sacrifice of theirs. Give unto us this day our daily manna,

Withouten which in this rough wilderness

Backward goes he who toils most to advance.
And even as we the trespass we have suffered
Pardon in one another, pardon thou
Benignly, and regard not our desert.
Our virtue, which is easily o'ercome,
Put not to proof with the old Adversary,

But thou from him who spurs it So,

This last petition verily, dear Lord,

deliver.

Not for ourselves is made, who need it not,

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But for their sake who have remained behind us."