Hell (Godly Funspel)

The first song of the Godly Funspel by Dante Alighieri.

Leeth I
Midway upon the travel of our life I found myself within a wood so dark, For the straight-forward pathway had been lost.

Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this wood, the wild, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought anew'th the fear.

So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to handle, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there.

I cannot well edledge how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the trice In which I had forsaken the true way.

But after I had reached a high bergh's foot, At that tip where the dale had end, Which had with great shock pierced mine heart,

Upward I looked, and I beheld his shoulders, Clothed already with beams of that world Which leadeth others right by every road.

Then was the fear a little stilled That in mine heart's mere had outheld throughout The night, which I had forebrought so ruthworthely.

And even as he, who, with andstressful breath, Forth outset from the sea upon the shore, wind'th to the water threat'ningly and gazeth;

So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward, Turn itself back to re-behold the gangway Which never yet a living soul had left.

After my weary body I had rested, The way went I with on the wasteland slope, So that the fast foot ever was the lower.

And lo! almost where the rise began, A panther light and swift o'erreachingly, Which with a spotted skin was decked o'er!

And never wayed she from before my sight, Nay, rather did hinder so much my way, That many times I to backfare had wound.

The time was the beginning of the morning, And up the sun was rising with those stars That with him were, what time the Love Godly

At first in motion set those great fair things; So were to me a sele of good hope, The sundered skin of that wild beast,

The stound of time, and the tasty yeartide; But not so much, that did not give me fear A manecat's sight which shew itself to me.

He seemed as if against me he were coming With head uplifted, and with ravenly hunger, So that it seemed the loft was afraid of him;

And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings Seemed to be laden in her meagreness, And many folk has made to live forlorn!

She brought upon me so much heaviness, With the affright that from her sight came out, That I the hope foresook of the height.

And as he is who willingly earneth, And the time comes that maketh him to lose, Who weep'th in all his thoughts and is braveless,

E'en such made me that wretch withouten frith, Which, coming on against me by stand Thrust me back thither where the sun is still.

While I was rushing downward to the lowland, Before mine eyes did one show himself, Who seemed from long-lasting stillness hoarse.

When I beheld him in the wasteland vast, "Have ruth on me," unto him I screamed, "Whiche'er thou art, be it shade or real man!"

He answered me: "Not man; man once I was, And both my elders were of Lombardy, And Mantuers by land both of them.

'Sub Julio' was I born, though it was late, And lived at Rome under the good August, Bewhile the time of wrong and lying gods.

Songwright was I, and I sang that upright Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy, After that Ilion the Oversome was burnt.

But thou, why goest thou back to such peeve? Why climb'st thou not the Bergh Neetbere, Which is the well and onlet of every happiness?"

"Now, art thou that Vergil and that well Which spread'th abroad so wide a river of speech?" I made answer to him with bashful forehead.

"O, of the other writers' ore and light, Avail me the long striving and great love That have overwon me to aseek thy roomyield!

Thou art my master, and my writer thou, Thou art alone the one from whom I took The fair working that has done ore to me.

Behold the wretch, for which I have wound back; Do thou ward me from her, famous Sage, For she doth make my aders and beats tremble."

"Thee it behoves to take another road," Answered he, when he beheld me weeping, "If from this wild stow thou wouldest flee;

Because this beast, at which thou screamest out, Beareth not any one to overtake her way, But so doth bother him, that she wreck him;

And hath an umworld so wicked and ruthless, That never doth she glut her greedy will, And after food is hungrier than before.

Many the beings with whom she weddeth, And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound Comes, who shall make her forfare in her smart.

He shall not feed on either earth or pelf, But upon wisdom, and on love and goodness; 'Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his folkship be;

Of that low Italy shall he be the healand, For whose sake the maid Camilla died, Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds;

Through every borough shall he hunt her down, Until he shall have driven her back to Hell, There from whence nithe first did let her loose.

Therefore I think and deem it for thy best Thou follow me, and I will be thy leader, And lead thee hence through the everlasting stow,

Where thou shalt hear the hopeless mourning, Shalt see the oldendomly ghosts wemless, Who scream each one for the other death;

And thou shalt see those who gladdened are Within the fire, because they hope to come, Whene'er it may be, to the blessed folk;

To whom, then, if thou wishest to go up, A soul shall be for that than I more worthy; With her at mine afaring I will leave thee;

Because that Overlord, who reigns above, In that I was uprising to his law, Will'th that through me none come into his borough.

He besteereth everywhere, and there he leadeth; There is his borough and his lofty see; O happy he whom thereto he chooseth!"

And I to him: "Writer, I thee beg, By that same God whom thou didst never know, So that I may andflee this woe and worse,

Thou wouldst lead me there where thou hast said, That I may see the doorway of Saint Peter, And those thou makest so wemless."

Then he went on, and I behind him followed.