l’uccise. Allora la volpe se n’andò, e disse: «Ogni uomo che sa lettera, non è savio».

2. Dante (1265–1321): La divina commedia

   Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita

mi ritrovai per una selva oscura,

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

   Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura,

esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

che nel pensier rinova la paura!

   Tant’è amara che poco è più morte;

ma per trattar del ben ch’i’ vi trovai,

dirò de l’altre cose ch’i’ v’ho scorte.

   Io non so ben ridir com’i’ v’entrai:

tant’era pien di sonno a quel punto

che la verace via abbandonai.

   Ma poi ch’i’ fui al piè d’un colle giunto,

là dove terminava quella valle,

che m’avea di paura il cor compunto,

   guardai in alto, e vidi le sue spalle

vestite già de’ raggi del pianeta

che mena dritto altrui per ogne calle.

   Allor fu la paura un poco queta,

che nel lago del cor m’era durata

la notte ch’i’ passai con tanta pieta.

   E come quei che con lena affannata,

uscito fuor del pelago a la riva,

si volge a l’acqua perigliosa e guata,

   così l’animo mio, ch’ancor fuggiva,

si volse a retro a rimirar lo passo

che non lasciò già mai persona viva.

   Poi ch’èi posato un poco il corpo lasso,

ripresi via per la piaggia diserta,

sì che ’l piè fermo sempre era ’l più basso.

   Ed ecco, quasi al cominciar de l’erta,

una lonza leggera e presta molto,

che di pel macolato era coverta;

   e non mi si partia dinanzi al volto,

anzi ’mpediva tanto il mio cammino,

recoiled and gave him such a hard kick that it killed him. Then the fox departed, saying: “Not every man who knows his letters is wise.”

2. Dante (1265–1321): The Divine Comedy

   Halfway through our allotted span of life

I found myself in a dark forest,

for I had strayed from the straight-and-narrow path.

   Ah! What a hard thing it is to tell what it was like,

that wild, rough, dense forest,

the very thought of which renews my fear!

   It’s so bitter that death is not much more so;

but to discuss the benefit I found there,

I shall tell of the other things I observed in it.

   I can’t readily recall how I entered it:

I was so full of slumber at the moment

when I deserted the true way.

   But after I had reached the foot of a hill

which was the termination of that valley

which had afflicted my heart with fear,

   I looked upward and saw its sides

already clad in the beams from that planet

which guides men straight, whatever their road.

   Then my fear was somewhat calmed,

that fear which had remained in the lake of my heart

all that night I spent in such a pitiful state.

   And like a man who, with panting breath,

having emerged from the sea onto the shore,

turns back to the perilous waters and stares at them,

   thus my thoughts, which were still in flight,

turned back to gaze again at the passage

that had never admitted a living person.

   After I had rested my weary body a while,

I resumed my journey up the deserted slope,

so that the foot that supported me was always the lower one.

   And behold, almost at the outset of the ascent:

a very slender and swift leopard,

covered with spotted skin,

   which wouldn’t depart from its place before my eyes,

but hindered my ascent so much

ch’i’ fui per ritornar più volte vòlto.

   Temp’era dal principio del mattino,

e ’l sol montava ’n sù con quelle stelle

ch’eran con lui quando l’amor divino

   mosse di prima quelle cose belle;

sì ch’a bene sperar m’era cagione

di quella fera a la gaetta pelle

   l’ora del tempo e la dolce stagione;

ma non sì che paura non mi desse

la vista che m’apparve d’un leone.

   Questi parea che contra me venisse

con la test’alta e con rabbiosa fame,

sì che parea che l’aere ne tremesse.

   Ed una lupa, che di tutte brame

sembiava carca ne la sua magrezza,

e molte genti fé già viver grame,

   questa mi porse tanto di gravezza

con la paura ch’uscia di sua vista,

ch’io perdei la speranza de l’altezza.

   E qual è quei che volentieri acquista,

e giugne ’l tempo che perder lo face,

che ’n tutti suoi pensier piange e s’attrista;

   tal mi fece la bestia sanza pace,

che, venendomi ’ncontro, a poco a poco

mi ripigneva là dove ’l sol tace.

   Mentre ch’i’ rovinava in basso loco,

dinanzi a li occhi mi si fu offerto

chi per lungo silenzio parea fioco.

   Quando vidi costui nel gran diserto,

«Miserere di me», gridai a lui,

«qual che tu sii od ombra od omo certo!»

   Rispuosemi: «Non omo, omo già fui,

e li parenti miei furon lombardi,

mantoani per patrïa ambedui.

   Nacqui sub Julio, ancor che fosse tardi,

e vissi a Roma sotto ’l buono Augusto

al tempo de li dei falsi e bugiardi.

   Poeta fui, e cantai di quel giusto

figliuol d’Anchise che venne di Troia,

poi che ’l superbo Ilïòn fu combusto.

   Ma tu perché ritorni a tanta noia?

that I turned to go back several times.

   It was early in the morning

and the sun was rising in that constellation

it had been in when divine love

   first set those lovely things in motion;

so that I was given cause for hope

of protection from that beast with the variegated hide

   by the hour of the day and the sweet spring season;

but not so much so that I failed to be frightened

by the sudden appearance of a lion.

   It seemed to be coming toward me

with head held high and a ravenous hunger,

so that the air seemed to tremble at it.

   And a she-wolf, which seemed to be laden

with all longings, skinny as it was,

and which has already made many nations live in sadness,

   instilled such great oppression in me

through the fear that emanated from the sight of it

that I lost all hope of reaching the summit.

   And like a man who loves to acquire wealth

and, when the time comes that makes him lose it,

weeps and is saddened in all his thoughts,

   thus I felt when faced by that insatiable beast,

which, coming toward me, was gradually

driving me back to the place where the sunshine can’t enter.

   While I was plunging back to the plain,

there was presented to my eyes

one who seemed to have a faint voice because of long silence.

   When I saw him in the great wilderness,

I shouted to him: “Take pity on me,

whoever you are, whether ghost or living man!”

   He replied: “I’m not living, though I once was,

and my parents were Lombards,

both natives of Mantua.

   I was born at the time of Julius Caesar, though late in his life,

and I lived in Rome under good Augustus

in the days of the false, lying gods.

   I was a poet, and I sang of that just

son of Anchises who came from Troy

after proud Ilium was burned.

   But why are you returning to such distress?