The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (13 inch ebook reader .txt) 📕
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Dante Alighieri’s Divine Comedy is considered one of the greatest works in world literature, and it established the standardized Italian language that is used today. Writing between 1308 and 1320, Dante draws from countless subjects including Roman Catholic theology and philosophy, the struggle between the papacy and the Holy Roman Empire, Greek mythology, and geocentric cosmology to answer the age-old question: what does the afterlife look like? Dante’s vision of the answer, this three-volume epic poem, describes in great detail the systematic levels in Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven.
The poem opens with Dante’s death—not his actual death that would come shortly after his work’s completion, but his fictional death—where the author is found wandering in a dark forest. Blocked from climbing towards the bright light by a she-wolf, a leopard, and a lion, he is forced to walk further into the darkened valley and towards the gates of Hell. Dante and his guides must then travel through the nine circles of Hell, seven terraces of Purgatory, and nine spheres of Heaven to experience divine justice for earthly sins so that he may reach the Empyrean and receive God’s love. On his journey, he will learn that one must be consciously devoted to the path of morality and righteousness, else one find oneself on a path towards sin.
This production is based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s blank verse translation. Longfellow succeeds in capturing the original brilliance of Dante’s internal rhymes and hypnotic patterns while also retaining accuracy. It is said that the death of his young wife brought him closer to the melancholy spirit of Dante’s writing, which itself was shaped by his wounding exile from his beloved Florence in 1302.
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- Author: Dante Alighieri
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This way there never passes a good soul;
And hence if Charon doth complain of thee,
Well mayst thou know now what his speech imports.”
This being finished, all the dusk champaign
Trembled so violently, that of that terror
The recollection bathes me still with sweat.
The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,
And fulminated a vermilion light,
Which overmastered in me every sense,
And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell. Canto IV
The First Circle—Limbo, or the border land of the unbaptized—The four poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan—The noble castle of philosophy.
Broke the deep lethargy within my head58
A heavy thunder, so that I upstarted,
Like to a person who by force is wakened;
And round about I moved my rested eyes,
Uprisen erect, and steadfastly I gazed,
To recognise the place wherein I was.
True is it, that upon the verge I found me
Of the abysmal valley dolorous,
That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.
Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous,59
So that by fixing on its depths my sight
Nothing whatever I discerned therein.
“Let us descend now into the blind world,”
Began the Poet, pallid utterly;
“I will be first, and thou shalt second be.”
And I, who of his color was aware,
Said: “How shall I come, if thou art afraid,
Who ’rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?”
And he to me: “The anguish of the people
Who are below here in my face depicts
That pity which for terror thou hast taken.
Let us go on, for the long way impels us.”
Thus he went in, and thus he made me enter
The foremost circle that surrounds the abyss.
There, in so far as I had power to hear,
Were lamentations none, but only sighs,
That tremulous made the everlasting air.
And this arose from sorrow without torment,60
Which the crowds had, that many were and great,
Of infants and of women and of men.61
To me the Master good: “Thou dost not ask
What spirits these, which thou beholdest, are?
Now will I have thee know, ere thou go farther,
That they sinned not; and if they merit had,
’Tis not enough, because they had not baptism
Which is the portal of the Faith thou holdest;
And if they were before Christianity,
In the right manner they adored not God;
And among such as these am I myself.
For such defects, and not for other guilt,
Lost are we, and are only so far punished,
That without hope we live on in desire.”
Great grief seized on my heart when this I heard,
Because some people of much worthiness
I knew, who in that Limbo were suspended.
“Tell me, my Master, tell me, thou my Lord,”
Began I, with desire of being certain
Of that Faith which o’ercometh every error,
“Came any one by his own merit hence,
Or by another’s, who was blessed thereafter?”
And he, who understood my covert speech,
Replied: “I was a novice in this state,
When I saw hither come a Mighty One,62
With sign of victory incoronate.
Hence he drew forth the shade of the First Parent,
And that of his son Abel, and of Noah,
Of Moses the lawgiver, and the obedient
Abraham, patriarch, and David, king,
Israel with his father and his children,
And Rachel, for whose sake he did so much,
And others many, and he made them blessed;
And thou must know, that earlier than these
Never were any human spirits saved.”
We ceased not to advance because he spake,
But still were passing onward through the forest,
The forest, say I, of thick-crowded ghosts.
Not very far as yet our way had gone
This side the summit, when I saw a fire
That overcame a hemisphere of darkness.
We were a little distant from it still,
But not so far that I in part discerned not
That honorable people held that place.63
“O thou who honorest every art and science,
Who may these be, which such great honor have,
That from the fashion of the rest it parts them?”
And he to me: “The honorable name,
That sounds of them above there in thy life,
Wins grace in Heaven, that so advances them.”
In the meantime a voice was heard by me:
“All honor be to the preeminent Poet;
His shade returns again, that was departed.”
After the voice had ceased and quiet was,
Four mighty shades I saw approaching us;
Semblance had they nor sorrowful nor glad.
To say to me began my gracious Master:
“Him with that falchion in his hand behold,64
Who comes before the three, even as their lord.
That one is Homer, Poet sovereign;
He who comes next is Horace, the satirist;
The third is Ovid, and the last is Lucan.
Because to each of these with me applies
The name that solitary voice proclaimed,
They do me honor, and in that do well.”65
Thus I beheld assemble the fair school
Of that lord of the song preeminent,
Who o’er the others like an eagle soars.
When they together had discoursed somewhat,
They turned to me with signs of salutation,
And on beholding this, my Master smiled;
And more of honor still, much more, they did me,66
In that they made me one of their own band;
So that the sixth was I, ’mid so much wit.
Thus we went on as far as to the light,
Things saying ’tis becoming to keep silent,
As was the saying of them where I was.
We came unto a noble castle’s foot,67
Seven times encompassed with lofty walls,
Defended round by a fair rivulet;
This we passed over even as firm ground;
Through portals seven I entered with these Sages;
We came into a meadow of fresh verdure.
People were there with solemn eyes and slow,
Of great authority in their countenance;
They spake but seldom, and with gentle voices.
Thus we withdrew ourselves upon one side
Into an opening luminous
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