Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, ⁠For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say ⁠What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, ⁠Which in the very thought renews the fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; ⁠But of the good to treat, which there I found, ⁠Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, ⁠So full was I of slumber at the moment ⁠In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a mountain’s foot, ⁠At that point where the valley terminated, ⁠Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, ⁠Vested already with that planet’s rays ⁠Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted ⁠That in my heart’s lake had endured throughout ⁠ ⁠The night, which I had passed so piteously. And even as he, who, with distressful breath, ⁠Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, ⁠Turns to the water perilous and gazes; So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward, ⁠ ⁠Turn itself back to re-behold the pass ⁠Which never yet a living person left. After my weary body I had rested, ⁠The way resumed I on the desert slope, ⁠So that the firm foot ever was the lower. And lo! almost where the ascent began, ⁠A panther light and swift exceedingly, ⁠Which with a spotted skin was covered o’er! And never moved she from before my face, ⁠Nay, rather did impede so much my way, ⁠ ⁠That many times I to return had turned. The time was the beginning of the morning, ⁠And up the sun was mounting with those stars ⁠That with him were, what time the Love Divine At first in motion set those beauteous things; ⁠ ⁠So were to me occasion of good hope, ⁠The variegated skin of that wild beast, The hour of time, and the delicious season; ⁠But not so much, that did not give me fear ⁠A lion’s aspect which appeared to me. He seemed as if against me he were coming ⁠With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger, ⁠So that it seemed the air was afraid of him; And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings ⁠Seemed to be laden in her meagreness, ⁠ ⁠And many folk has caused to live forlorn! She brought upon me so much heaviness, ⁠With the affright that from her aspect came, ⁠That I the hope relinquished of the height. And as he is who willingly acquires, ⁠ ⁠And the time comes that causes him to lose, ⁠Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent, E’en such made me that beast withouten peace, ⁠Which, coming on against me by degrees, ⁠Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent. While I was rushing downward to the lowland, ⁠Before mine eyes did one present himself, ⁠Who seemed from 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 honor 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 honor 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 Emperor, who reigns above, ⁠In that I was rebellious to his law, ⁠Wills that through me none come into his city. He governs everywhere, and there he reigns; ⁠There is his city and his lofty throne; ⁠O happy he whom thereto he elects!” And I to him: “Poet, I thee entreat, ⁠ ⁠By that same God whom thou didst never know, ⁠So that I may escape this woe and worse, Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said, ⁠That I may see the portal of Saint Peter, ⁠And those thou makest so disconsolate.” Then he moved on, and I behind him followed.