« PreviousContinue »
What scented stripling, Pyrrha, wooes thee now
In pleasant cavern, all with roses fair ? For whom those yellow tresses bindest thou
With simple care?
Full oft shall he thine altered faith bewail,
His altered gods; and his unwonted gaze Shall watch the waters darken to the gale
In wild amaze.
Who now believing gloats on golden charms;
Who hopes thee ever kind and ever void ; Nor, hapless ! knows the changeful wind's alarms,
Nor thee, untried.
For me, let Neptune's temple-wall declare
How, safe-escaped, in votive offering
INFERNO, C. XXXIII. 1–78.
La bocca sollevò dal fiero pasto
Poi cominciò; tu vuoi ch' io rinnovelli
Ma se le mie parole esser den seme
Io non so chi tu se', nè per qual modo
Tu dei saper, ch' io fui 'l conte Ugolino ;
Che per l'effetto de' suo' ma' pensieri,
Però, quel che non puoi avere inteso,
The grim offender from his savage feast Lifted his mouth; and wiped it with the hair Of th' head unseemly mauled that he released;
Then thus began. “Am I anew to bear Desperate grief, that weighs my heart adown, Even as I think on what I shall declare?
Yet, if my words may, as a seed is sown, Bring shame to the foul traitor that I gnaw, In weeping I will speak. One all unknown
Thou com’st : unknown, by what decree or law Thus low thou didst descend: but Florentine I guess thy race, by what I heard, not saw.
Thou hast to learn, I was Count Ugoline : He, Roger, hight Archbishop. Now I tell The cause of this ill neighbourship of mine.
How by his evil thought's effect it fell, That I, in him confiding, was ensnared And put to death, thou, all men, know full well.
But what to boot I trow thou hast not heard, The manner of my death how horrible, Hear now; and judge, if ill by him I fared.
Breve pertugio dentro dalla muda
M' avea mostrato per lo suo forame
Questi pareva a me maestro e donno Cacciando il lupo e i lupicini al monte Perche i Pisan' veder Lucca non ponno.
Con cagne magre, studiose, e conte,
In picciol corso mi pareano stanchi
lor veder fender li fianchi.
Ben se' crudel, se tu già non ti duoli,
Già eran desti; e l'ora s' appressava
A narrow orifice within the cell (Which yet from me, they call the Famine Jail, And wherein others, after me, must dwell,)
Had shewn me many moons both wax and fail Through its dim passage, when I slept the sleep That rent in twain the future's darksome veil.
A mighty lord, He seemed the plain to sweep,
With dogs high-bred and lean, of eager skill,
Too short, too short the wasting strength abides
When I the first, ere break of morn, awoke, I heard my sons moan faintly in their sleep That with me dwelt, and bread for life invoke.
Oh thou art hard, if careless yet thou keep, Learning the then sad presage of my thought ! Oh weep for this, if aught can make thee weep.
The wonted hour for victuals to be brought Was near at hand : they were awake, and stirred; But each one, for his dream, was vexed with doubt.