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The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Purgatory, Volume 4

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It was the hour, when of diurnal heatNo reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary swayOf Saturn; and the geomancer seesHis Greater Fortune up the east ascend,Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;When 'fore me in my dream a woman's shapeThere came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.I look'd upon her; and as sunshine cheersLimbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my lookUnloos'd her tongue, next in brief space her formDecrepit rais'd erect, and faded faceWith love's own hue illum'd. Recov'ring speechShe forthwith warbling such a strain began,That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have heldAttention from the song.  "I," thus she sang,"I am the Siren, she, whom marinersOn the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear:Such fulness of delight the list'ner feels.I from his course Ulysses by my layEnchanted drew.  Whoe'er frequents me onceParts seldom; so I charm him, and his heartContented knows no void."  Or ere her mouthWas clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'dA dame of semblance holy.  With stern voiceShe utter'd; "Say, O Virgil, who is this?"Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bentToward that goodly presence: th' other seiz'd her,And, her robes tearing, open'd her before,And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,Exhaling loathsome, wak'd me.  Round I turn'dMine eyes, and thus the teacher: "At the leastThree times my voice hath call'd thee.  Rise, begone.Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass."I straightway rose.  Now day, pour'd down from high,Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smoteThe early ray.  I follow'd, stooping lowMy forehead, as a man, o'ercharg'd with thought,Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,"Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild,As never met the ear on mortal strand.With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up,Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along,Where each side of the solid masonryThe sloping, walls retir'd; then mov'd his plumes,And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn,Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs."What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"Began my leader; while th' angelic shapeA little over us his station took."New vision," I replied, "hath rais'd in meSurmizings strange and anxious doubts, whereonMy soul intent allows no other thoughtOr room or entrance."—"Hast thou seen," said he,"That old enchantress, her, whose wiles aloneThe spirits o'er us weep for?  Hast thou seenHow man may free him of her bonds?  Enough.Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd kenFix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal KingWhirls in the rolling spheres."  As on his feetThe falcon first looks down, then to the skyTurns, and forth stretches eager for the food,That woos him thither; so the call I heard,So onward, far as the dividing rockGave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd....