The Battle of Darkness and Light - Джон Мильтон

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And oughtest to bestride her saddle-bow,

      May a just judgment from the stars down fall

       Upon thy blood, and be it new and open,

       That thy successor may have fear thereof;

      Because thy father and thyself have suffered,

       By greed of those transalpine lands distrained,

       The garden of the empire to be waste.

      Come and behold Montecchi and Cappelletti,

       Monaldi and Fillippeschi, careless man!

       Those sad already, and these doubt-depressed!

      Come, cruel one! come and behold the oppression

       Of thy nobility, and cure their wounds,

       And thou shalt see how safe is Santafiore!

      Come and behold thy Rome, that is lamenting,

       Widowed, alone, and day and night exclaims,

       "My Caesar, why hast thou forsaken me?"

      Come and behold how loving are the people;

       And if for us no pity moveth thee,

       Come and be made ashamed of thy renown!

      And if it lawful be, O Jove Supreme!

       Who upon earth for us wast crucified,

       Are thy just eyes averted otherwhere?

      Or preparation is 't, that, in the abyss

       Of thine own counsel, for some good thou makest

       From our perception utterly cut off?

      For all the towns of Italy are full

       Of tyrants, and becometh a Marcellus

       Each peasant churl who plays the partisan!

      My Florence! well mayst thou contented be

       With this digression, which concerns thee not,

       Thanks to thy people who such forethought take!

      Many at heart have justice, but shoot slowly,

       That unadvised they come not to the bow,

       But on their very lips thy people have it!

      Many refuse to bear the common burden;

       But thy solicitous people answereth

       Without being asked, and crieth: "I submit."

      Now be thou joyful, for thou hast good reason;

       Thou affluent, thou in peace, thou full of wisdom!

       If I speak true, the event conceals it not.

      Athens and Lacedaemon, they who made

       The ancient laws, and were so civilized,

       Made towards living well a little sign

      Compared with thee, who makest such fine-spun

       Provisions, that to middle of November

       Reaches not what thou in October spinnest.

      How oft, within the time of thy remembrance,

       Laws, money, offices, and usages

       Hast thou remodelled, and renewed thy members?

      And if thou mind thee well, and see the light,

       Thou shalt behold thyself like a sick woman,

       Who cannot find repose upon her down,

      But by her tossing wardeth off her pain.

      VII. The Valley of Flowers. Negligent Princes.

       Table of Contents

      After the gracious and glad salutations

       Had three and four times been reiterated,

       Sordello backward drew and said, "Who are you?"

      "Or ever to this mountain were directed

       The souls deserving to ascend to God,

       My bones were buried by Octavian.

      I am Virgilius; and for no crime else

       Did I lose heaven, than for not having faith;"

       In this wise then my Leader made reply.

      As one who suddenly before him sees

       Something whereat he marvels, who believes

       And yet does not, saying, "It is! it is not!"

      So he appeared; and then bowed down his brow,

       And with humility returned towards him,

       And, where inferiors embrace, embraced him.

      "O glory of the Latians, thou," he said,

       "Through whom our language showed what it could do

       O pride eternal of the place I came from,

      What merit or what grace to me reveals thee?

       If I to hear thy words be worthy, tell me

       If thou dost come from Hell, and from what cloister."

      "Through all the circles of the doleful realm,"

       Responded he, "have I come hitherward;

       Heaven's power impelled me, and with that I come.

      I by not doing, not by doing, lost

       The sight of that high sun which thou desirest,

       And which too late by me was recognized.

      A place there is below not sad with torments,

       But darkness only, where the lamentations

       Have not the sound of wailing, but are sighs.

      There dwell I with the little innocents

       Snatched by the teeth of Death, or ever they

       Were from our human sinfulness exempt.

      There dwell I among those who the three saintly

       Virtues did not put on, and without vice

       The others knew and followed all of them.

      But if thou know and can, some indication

       Give us by which we may the sooner come

       Where Purgatory has its right beginning."

      He answered: "No fixed place has been assigned us;

       'Tis lawful for me to go up and round;

       So far as I can go, as guide I join thee.

      But see already how the day declines,

       And to go up by night we are not able;

       Therefore 'tis well to think of some fair sojourn.

      Souls are there on the right hand here withdrawn;

       If thou permit me I will lead thee to them,

       And thou shalt know them not without delight."

      "How is this?" was the answer; "should one wish

       To mount by night would he prevented be

       By others? or mayhap would not have power?"

      And on the ground the good Sordello drew

       His finger, saying, "See, this line alone

       Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone;

      Not that aught else would hindrance give, however,

       To going up, save the nocturnal darkness;

       This with the want of power the will perplexes.

      We might indeed

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