HKB
Than was the passage-way through which ascended Only my Leader and myself behind him, After that company departed from us.
One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli, And mounts the summit of Bismantova, With feet alone; but here one needs must fly;
With the swift pinions and the plumes I say Of great desire, conducted after him Who gave me hope, and made a light for me.
We mounted upward through the rifted rock, And on each side the border pressed upon us, And feet and hands the ground beneath required.
When we were come upon the upper rim Of the high bank, out on the open slope, “My Master,” said I, “what way shall we take?”
And he to me: “No step of thine descend; Still up the mount behind me win thy way, Till some sage escort shall appear to us.”
The summit was so high it vanquished sight, And the hillside precipitous far more Than line from middle quadrant to the centre.
Spent with fatigue was I, when I began: “O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold How I remain alone, unless thou stay!”
“O son,” he said, “up yonder drag thyself,” Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher, Which on that side encircles all the hill.
These words of his so spurred me on, that I Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up, Until the circle was beneath my feet.
Thereon ourselves we seated both of us Turned to the East, from which we had ascended, For all men are delighted to look back.
To the low shores mine eyes I first directed, Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered That on the left hand we were smitten by it.
The Poet well perceived that I was wholly Bewildered at the chariot of the light, Where ’twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.
Whereon he said to me: “If Castor and Pollux Were in the company of yonder mirror, That up and down conducteth with its light,
Thou wouldst behold the zodiac’s jagged wheel Revolving still more near unto the Bears, Unless it swerved aside from its old track.
How that may be wouldst thou have power to think, Collected in thyself, imagine Zion Together with this mount on earth to stand,
So that they both one sole horizon have, And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,
Thou’lt see how of necessity must pass This on one side, when that upon the other, If thine intelligence right clearly heed.”
“Truly, my Master,” said I, “never yet Saw I so clearly as I now discern, There where my wit appeared incompetent,
That the mid-circle of supernal motion, Which in some art is the Equator called, And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,
For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence Tow’rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews Beheld it tow’rds the region of the heat.
But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn How far we have to go; for the hill rises Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise.”
And he to me: “This mount is such, that ever At the beginning down below ’tis tiresome, And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.
Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, That going up shall be to thee as easy As going down the current in a boat,
Then at this pathway’s ending thou wilt be; There to repose thy panting breath expect; No more I answer; and this I know for true.”
And as he finished uttering these words, A voice close by us sounded: “Peradventure Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that.”
At sound thereof each one of us turned round, And saw upon the left hand a great rock, Which neither I nor he before had noticed.
Thither we drew; and there were persons there Who in the shadow stood behind the rock, As one through indolence is wont to stand.