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    Canto I - Page 2

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    long-continued silence hoarse.
    When I beheld him in the desert vast,
    "Have pity on me," unto him I cried,
    "Whiche'er thou art, or shade or real man!"
    He answered me: "Not man; man once I was,
    And both my parents were of Lombardy,
    And Mantuans by country both of them.
    'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late,
    And lived at Rome under the good Augustus,
    During the time of false and lying gods.
    A poet was I, and I sang that just
    Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy,
    After that Ilion the superb was burned.
    But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance?
    Why climb'st thou not the Mount Delectable,
    Which is the source and cause of every joy?"
    "Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain
    Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech?"
    I made response to him with bashful forehead.
    "O, of the other poets honour and light,
    Avail me the long study and great love
    That have impelled me to explore thy volume!
    Thou art my master, and my author thou,
    Thou art alone the one from whom I took
    The beautiful style that has done honour to me.
    Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
    Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
    For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble."
    "Thee it behoves to take another road,"
    Responded he, when he beheld me weeping,
    "If from this savage place thou wouldst escape;
    Because this beast, at which thou criest out,
    Suffers not any one to pass her way,
    But so doth harass him, that she destroys him;
    And has a nature so malign and ruthless,
    That never doth she glut her greedy will,
    And after food is hungrier than before.
    Many the animals with whom she weds,
    And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound
    Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain.
    He shall not feed on either earth or pelf,
    But upon wisdom, and on love and virtue;
    'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be;
    Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour,
    On whose account the maid Camilla died,
    Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;
    Through every city shall he hunt her down,
    Until he shall have driven her back to Hell,
    There from whence envy first did let her loose.
    Therefore I think and judge it for thy best
    Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide,

    And lead thee hence through the eternal place,
    Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations,
    Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
    Who cry out each one for the second death;
    And thou shalt see those who contented are
    Within the fire, because they hope to come,
    Whene'er it may be, to the blessed people;
    To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend,
    A soul shall be for that than I more worthy;
    With her at my departure I will leave thee;
    Because that
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