Is Arbia's flood, that ran distain'd with red By that day's dreadful slaughter." Here, a pause He made, and, sadly sighing, waved his head,

Then spake " Yet there I did not singly stand, Nor without cause had join'd that conflict dread. But singly there I stood, where all our band

Gave leave that Florence should no longer be; And singly, did the fell decree withstand." "So may thy race at length from ban be free," (I thus adjured him)" as the doubtful knot Thou solvest, which now holds fast my phantasy. It seems ye view, if I mistake it not,

Before-hand, things not yet brought forth to light, While all the present are like things forgot." "We view like one that hath distemper'd sight, "Those things," he said, "which at a distance lieSuch gleams are sent us by the Lord of Might. But when the far-seen objects press more nigh, Our sense is vain; and of your human state We nothing know unless from passers by. Hence mayst thou comprehend how dark the state Of all our knowledge from that point of time That closes of futurity the gate."

Repentant then of my unthinking crime,

I bade him to that other fallen one say His son still breathed in this our mortal clime. "Tell him, moreover, if I made delay

In answering, 'twas that I then ponder❜d o'er A doubt which now thy words have chased away." And now my master call'd; whereat the more

Eager I begg'd the hostile spirit to shew Who were his partners on that dismal shore. "I rest," he said, "'mid thousands here below.

The second Frederick yonder tomb doth hold; The cardinal this; the rest forbear to know! Then plunged beneath-I toward that poet old My steps address'd, retracing in my mind The words that of my fate so darkly told. Onward he moved, and, moving, in this kind Made question, "Wherefore so disturb'd by fear?" Which when I had resolved him, he rejoin'd, With sage advice, "Deep in thy bosom bear The import of that stern prophetic lore.

And now these words attend"-(with fingers here Upraised he spake,)—" when thou shalt stand before Her gracious beam, whose bright eye all surveys, Thy path of life she will assist to explore." Then to the left he turn'd, and through the maze, Quitting the wall, a midway path we chose, That to a hollow place our steps conveys,

When through the air a noisome stench arose.

PETER DE VINEIS.

INFERNO, C. XIII. VER. 1-108.

THE Centaur scarce had reach'd the further shore,
When in a pathless wood ourselves we found.
No verdant hues the cluster'd foliage bore,
But all with melancholy shade embrown'd;

No tall clean stems were there; but gnarl'd and twined:

No fruits; but thorns that venom sprinkled round: No brake so rude, so tangled, and so blind,

Do savage beasts that loathe the cultured field Between Cecina and Cornetto find.

Here their foul nests the abhorréd harpies build, Who drove the Trojans from the Strophades, And warning sad of future woes reveal'd.

Broad wings are theirs, with human visages: Their feet are claw'd, and plumed their paunch profound,

And loud their wailings on those gnarléd trees. Then thus the master-" On the second round,

Know thou hast enter'd, ere thou further stray; And here must 'bide, until thy feet have found To the realm of scorching sand their onward way. But look! and things may haply soon appear, Which will give credit to my mystic lay." Now sad laments on every side I hear,

But none may note from whom the sounds proceed;

VOL. II.

Whereat I stay my steps, aghast with fear. Belike he deem'd that I believed, indeed,

The voices were of ambush'd men, who lay 'Midst the thick shade, in wait for desperate deed. Then said the master-" Do but rend away

From one of those poor plants the smallest bough; And thou wilt learn how groundless thy dismay." Now stretch'd I forth my hand a space, and now

From an old thorn one slender twig I tore; Whereat it cried-" Me wherefore rendest thou?" And down the trunk ran drops of sable gore. Then it began anew-" Why torturest me? Hast thou no pity-no remorse-in store? Though rooted here, we once were men like thee; Yet, had we not been man- but serpent-sprung, Thou might'st have shewn us more humanity"As when we light a green-wood bough, ere long, While one end burns, the other seems to sigh, And hisses to the wind that sweeps alongSo from that stump, together burst the cry,

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And oozed the blood; then dropp'd I to the ground The sever'd branch, and stood bewilder'd by.—

If that, now seen, at first had credence found, Thou injured soul," resumed my guardian friend, "Taught by those strains which thro' the world resound,

He had not stretch'd his hand thy bark to rend. But I, because the fact surpass'd belief,

Urged him, which now I grieve, my doubts to end. But tell him who thou wast, that so thy grief,

When he, returning, sounds thy fame among The sons of earth, may find some small relief." Then thus the trunk; "So winning is thy tongue, It courts reply; nor let it thee displease If I should haply my discourse prolong. Know, I am he who held the double keys

Of Frederick's heart, and turn'd them round and round,

Locking, and then unlocking, with such ease, Scarce any but myself admittance found

Into his breast; and with such truth I served My sacred charge, as did my life confound. The harlot she whose gloating eyes ne'er swerved From Cæsar's house-that all-corrupting pestThat vice, the special bane for courts reservedToo soon inflamed against me every breast.

They, fired, Augustus fired. To bitterest pain My joys thus changed, my honours dispossess'd, My soul o'erwhelm'd with rage of fierce disdain,

In thought, by death to find escape from scorn, I wrong'd myself, while seeking others' gain. But, by this tender sapling's roots new-born

I swear, I never broke my loyal plight
To him whose soul those regal gifts adorn;
And, if again thou see the cheerful light,

The honours of my memory, O restore,
Yet prostrate laid from envy's cruel blight!"
The poet waited till his speech was o'er,

Then thus address'd me-" Let not time be lost; But speak, and ask him, if thou seek'st for more."