Considered Italys greatest poet, DANTE ALIGHIERI (1265-1321) was the scion of a Florentine family who mastered the art of lyric poetry at an early age. His first major work, La Vita Nuova (1292), paid tribute to Beatrice Portinari, the great love of his life. Dantes political activism resulted in his being exiled from Florence, and he eventually settled in Ravenna. It is believed that The Divine Comedycomprising three canticles, The Inferno, The Purgatorio, and The Paradisowas written between 1308 and 1320.
JOHN CIARDI (1916-1986), a distinguished poet and professor, taught at Harvard and Rutgers universities and served as poetry editor for the Saturday Review. He was a Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and the National Institute of Arts and Letters. He won the Harriet Monroe Memorial Award in 1955 and the Prix de Rome in 1956.
Midway in our lifes journey, I went astray
from the straight road and woke to find myself
alone in a dark wood. How shall I say
what wood that was! I never saw so drear,
so rank, so arduous a wilderness!
Its very memory gives a shape to fear.
Death could scarce be more bitter than that place!
But since it came to good, I will recount
all that I found revealed there by Gods grace.
How I came to it I cannot rightly say,
so drugged and loose with sleep had I become
when I first wandered there from the True Way.
But at the far end of that valley of evil
whose maze had sapped my very heart with fear!
I found myself before a little hill
and lifted up my eyes. Its shoulders glowed
already with the sweet rays of that planet
whose virtue leads men straight on every road,
and the shining strengthened me against the fright
whose agony had wracked the lake of my heart
through all the terrors of that piteous night.
Just as a swimmer, who with his last breath
flounders ashore from perilous seas, might turn
to memorize the wide water of his death
so did I turn, my soul still fugitive
from deaths surviving image, to stare down
that pass that none had ever left alive.
And there I lay to rest from my hearts race
till calm and breath returned to me. Then rose
and pushed up that dead slope at such a pace
each footfall rose above the last. And lo!
almost at the beginning of the rise
I faced a spotted Leopard, all tremor and flow
and gaudy pelt. And it would not pass, but stood
so blocking my every turn that time and again
I was on the verge of turning back to the wood.
This fell at the first widening of the dawn
as the sun was climbing Aries with those stars
that rode with him to light the new creation.
Thus the holy hour and the sweet season
of commemoration did much to arm my fear
of that bright murderous beast with their good omen.
Yet not so much but what I shook with dread
at sight of a great Lion that broke upon me
raging with hunger, its enormous head
held high as if to strike a mortal terror
into the very air. And down his track,
a She-Wolf drove upon me, a starved horror
ravening and wasted beyond all belief.
She seemed a rack for avarice, gaunt and craving.
Oh many the souls she has brought to endless grief!
She brought such heaviness upon my spirit
at sight of her savagery and desperation,
I died from every hope of that high summit.
And like a misereager in acquisition
but desperate in self-reproach when Fortunes wheel
turns to the hour of his lossall tears and attrition
I wavered back; and still the beast pursued,
forcing herself against me bit by bit
till I slid back into the sunless wood.
And as I fell to my souls ruin, a presence
gathered before me on the discolored air,
the figure of one who seemed hoarse from long silence.
At sight of him in that friendless waste I cried:
Have pity on me, whatever thing you are,
whether shade or living man. And it replied:
Not man, though man I once was, and my blood
was Lombard, both my parents Mantuan.
I was born, though late, sub Julio, and bred
in Rome under Augustus in the noon
of the false and lying gods. I was a poet
and sang of old Anchises noble son
who came to Rome after the burning of Troy.
But youwhy do you return to these distresses
instead of climbing that shining Mount of Joy
which is the seat and first cause of mans bliss?
And are you then that Virgil and that fountain
of purest speech? My voice grew tremulous:
Glory and light of poets! now may that zeal
and loves apprenticeship that I poured out
on your heroic verses serve me well!
For you are my true master and first author,
the sole maker from whom I drew the breath
of that sweet style whose measures have brought me honor.
See there, immortal sage, the beast I flee.
For my souls salvation, I beg you, guard me from her,
for she has struck a mortal tremor through me.
And he replied, seeing my soul in tears:
He must go by another way who would escape
this wilderness, for that mad beast that fleers
before you there, suffers no man to pass.
She tracks down all, kills all, and knows no glut,
but, feeding, she grows hungrier than she was.
She mates with any beast, and will mate with more
before the Greyhound comes to hunt her down.
He will not feed on lands nor loot, but honor
and love and wisdom will make straight his way.
He will rise between Feltro and Feltro, and in him
shall be the resurrection and new day
of that sad Italy for which Nisus died,
and Turnus, and Euryalus, and the maid Camilla.
He shall hunt her through every nation of sick pride
till she is driven back forever to Hell
whence Envy first released her on the world.