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delicate ear, and a sharp nose, and he keeps 'em busy, as a general thing. He never neglects their warnin', but puts out about the quickest, whenever they notify him that there's an enemy about. I've had a good deal of trouble with them in my day, when I've been out trappin' martin. They'll manage to spring the trap and
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carry off the bait. When one of them chaps gets on a line of traps, there's no use in talkin'. The game's up, and the trapper may make up his mind to get rid of the varmint in some way, or locate in another range of country. He'll find his traps sprung and his bait gone. Or if a martin
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has been in ahead of the fox, he'll find only the skull, the end of the tail, the feet, and a few of the larger bones, and they'll be picked mighty clean at that. You've seen a martin trap, or if you haven't, I'll try and describe one so that you'll understand it. It's a very simple contrivance, and if
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a martin was not a good deal more stupid than a goose, he'd never be caught in one of them. We drive down a couple of rows of little stakes, plantin' the stakes close together, and leaving between the rows a space of six or eight inches. The rows are may be a foot and a half long. We then
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cut and trim a long saplin', say five or six inches across at the butt, and leaving one end on the ground, set the other, may be two feet high, with a kind of figure four, so that when it falls, it will come down between the rows of stakes. We fix the bait so that a martin in getting
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at it, will have to go in between the rows of stakes, and displace the trap sticks, when down comes the pole upon him and crushes him to death. We talk about a _line_ of traps, because we blaze a line of trees, sometimes for miles, and set a trap every twenty or thirty rods. I've had a line of
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a dozen miles or more, in my day, in a circle around my campin' ground. In minding our traps, we follow the line of marked trees from one to the other, and so never miss a trap, nor get lost in the woods. "I mind once, a good many years ago, Crop and I was over towards the St. Regis,
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on a cruise after martin and sable, and anything else in the way of game we could pick up. I'd laid out my trappin' arrangements on a pretty large scale, and was doin' a little better than midlin', when I found that my traps were sprung by some animal that helped himself to the bait, without leavin' his hide as
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a consideration for settin' of 'em. After a few days, I found that whatever it was, understood the line as well as I did, for he took the range regular, and not only stole the bait, but ate up half a dozen martin, that had given me a claim on their hides by springin' my traps. This was a kind
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of medlin' with my private concerns that I didn't like, and I was bound to find out who the interloper was, and if possible, to make his acquaintance. There was no snow on the ground, and I couldn't get at his track. So I made up my mind to watch for him. Well, one day I spoke to Crop to
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stay by the shanty and take care of the things, while I went to find out who it was that was medlin' with our property, and started off on my line of traps. I got up into the crotch of a great birch near one of 'em, and sat there with my rifle, waitin' for something to turn up. It
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was a little after noon when I got located. The sun travelled slowly along down towards the western hills, his bright light, in that calm November day, makin' the rocky ranges and the bare heads of the tall peaks shine out in a blaze of glory. The livin' things of the old woods were busy and jolly enough. An old
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owl came flying lazily out of the thick branches of a hemlock, and lightin' within a dozen feet of me, opened his great round eyes in astonishment, and as the bright sunlight dazzled him, he squinted and turned his cat-like face from side to side, as if makin' up his mind that he'd know me the next time we met.
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By-and-by he opened his hooked beak, and great red mouth, and roared out, 'Hoo! hohoo! hoo!' as much as to say, 'who the devil are you?' I didn't answer a word, and after a little, he flew back to his shadowy perch among the dense foliage of the hemlock. A black squirrel came hopping along with his mouth full of
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beech nuts, and running nimbly up the tree on which I was perched, and out upon one of the great limbs, deposited his store in a hollow he found there. He caught sight of me as he came back, and seating himself upon a branch, not six feet from my head, began chatterin' and barkin' as if givin' me a
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regular lecter for invadin' his premises, and takin' possession of his tree. He didn't seem to understand the matter at all, and I didn't undertake to explain the reason of my being there. After a little, he went off about his business, and left me to attend to mine. A raccoon came nosing along, stoppin' every little way to turn
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over the leaves, or pull away the dirt from a root with his long hands, tastin' of one thing and smellin' of another in a mighty dainty way. When he came to my tree, he seemed to think that there might be something among its branches worth looking at. So he came clambering up its rough bark towards where I
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sat. He came up on the other side of the tree from me, till he got about even with my huntin'-cap, and then came round to my side, and there we were, face to face, not two feet apart. I reckon that coon was astonished when our eyes met, for with a sort of scream he let right loose, and
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dropped twenty feet to the ground like a clod, and the way he waddled away into the brash, mutterin' and talkin' to himself, was a thing to laugh at. "The sun was, may be, an hour high, when lookin' along the line of marked trees, I saw a black animal come trotting mighty softly towards the trap I was watchin'.
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I knew him at once. He was a black fox, and I knew that he was the gentleman that had been makin' free with my property for the last few days. He trotted up to the trap, and walked carefully around it, nosin' out towards the bait, but keepin' out from under the pole. He seemed to understand what that
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pole meant, and that if it fell on him, he'd be very likely to be hurt. After a little, he trotted out to the other end of the pole, and gettin' on to it, walked carefully along to within ten or twelve feet of the bait; if he didn't begin jumpin' up and down till he sprung the trap, you
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may shoot me. When he'd done that job, he went back, and gettin' hold of the bait with his teeth, drew it out and began very cooly to eat it. By this time I'd brought my rifle to bear upon the gentleman, but I gave him a little law, to see what his next move would be. After he'd finished
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the bait, and found there warn't any more to be come at, he stretched himself on his belly along the ground, and began lickin' his paws, and passing them over his cheeks, as you've seen a cat do. After he'd washed his face awhile, he sat himself down on his haunches, curled his long bushy tail around his feet, and
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looked about as if considerin' what he should do next. Just then I paid my respects to him, and as my rifle broke the stillness of the forest, he turned a double summerset, and after kickin' around a little, laid still. I came down from my perch, and took the gentleman to the shanty and added his hide to those
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of the martins I'd taken. My traps warn't disturbed after that, and I carried home a pack of furs that bro't me near two hundred dollars." . OUT OF THE WOODS--THE THOUSAND ISLANDS--CAPE VINCENT--BASS FISHING HOME--A SEARCHER AFTER TRUTH--AN INTERRUPTION--FINIS. We floated quietly down the Rackett, carrying our boats around the falls, shooting like an arrow down the rapids, or
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gliding along under the shadows of the gigantic forest trees that line the long, calm reaches of that beautiful river. We shook hands and parted with our boatmen at the pleasant village of Pottsdam, where we arrived the second evening after leaving Tupper's Lake. We found our baggage, and it was a pleasant thing to change our long beards for
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shaved faces, and our forest costume for the garniture of the outer man after the fashion of civilization. We took the cars for Ogdensburgh, and the next morning found us steaming up the majestic St. Lawrence, towards that paradise of fishermen, the Thousand Islands. We stopped a couple of days at Alexandria Bay, and passed on to Cape Vincent, a
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beautiful village situated a mile or two below where the river takes its departure from the broad lake beyond. This pleasant little town is built upon a wide sweep of tableland, overlooking the river in front, and the open lake on the west. It is accessible both by the lake and river, having two or three arrivals' and departures of
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steamboats each way daily, and being the terminus of the Rome and Watertown Railroad, the great thoroughfare between Kingston and the central portion of the Tipper Provinces and the States. It is a delightful place in the hot summer months, with a climate unequalled for healthfulness, a cool breeze always fanning it from the water, and in the vicinity the
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best bass fishing to be found on this continent. Opposite, and just below the town, is Carlton Island, on which stand the ruins of an old French fortification, the walls and trenches and the solitary chimneys, from which the wooden barracks have rotted or been burned away, remain as melancholy testimonials of the bloody strifes between the red men of
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the forest, and the pioneers of civilization who were driving them from the hunting grounds of their fathers. The black bass of the St. Lawrence and Ontario, are the "gamest" fish that swim, and they are nowhere found in such abundance as in the neighborhood of Cape Vincent. On the outer edge of the bar, near the head of Carlton
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Island, we caught between seventy and eighty in one afternoon, weighing from three to five pounds each, every one of which fought like a hero, diving with a plunge for the bottom, skiving with a rush down, across, or up the river; leaping clear from the water and shaking his head furiously, to throw the hook loose from his jaw,
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before surrendering to his fate. In Wilson's Bay, a sweet place, three miles from the village by water, or one and a half by land, we caught as many more on another afternoon. We took a sail-boat and glided round Lighthouse Point (a pleasant drive of two miles from the village), out into the lake, and steered for Grenadier Island,
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five miles distant, on which we tented for the night, and the bass we brought home the next day were something worth looking at. Near the upper end of Long Island are other prolific bass shoals, where the fisherman may enjoy himself. Indeed, he can scarcely go amiss in the surrounding waters. The black bass of the St. Lawrence are
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not only game fish, but are, in excellence of flavor, scarcely excelled by any fish of this country. Baked or boiled, they have few superiors, and as a pan fish, are excelled only by the brook-trout of the streams. The season for taking them commences in July; and continues through September. August is the best month in the year for
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the bass fishermen. If, during that month, he will supply himself with a strong bass-pole, a strong treble-action reel, stout silk lines, and proper hooks, and visit Gape Vincent, he will find boatmen with a supply of minnows, ready to serve him; and if he fails to enjoy himself for a fortnight among the black bass of the St Lawrence
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and Ontario, he may count himself as a man who is very hard to please. We spent a pleasant week at Cape Vincent, and then turned our faces homeward, invigorated in strength and buoyant in spirits, to begin again a round of toil, from which we, at least, could claim no further exemption. "H----," said a friend of mine, as
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he stalked into my sanctum, a few days after my return, and seated himself at my elbow, as if for a private and confidential talk, "did Smith really shoot the bear, the skin of which he brought home, and which he exhibits with such triumph. Tell me, honestly, as between you and me, did he in fact shoot him?" "Smith
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certainly did shoot that bear," I replied. "But is the marvellous story he tells about the manner of killing him really true?" "That, of course, I cannot tell," I replied, "as I have never heard the story." "Why," said my friend, "he tells about a beautiful lake, lying away back in the northern wilderness, above which Mount Marcy, and Mount
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Seward, and other nameless peaks of the Adirondacks, rear their tall heads to the clouds, throwing back the sunlight in a blaze of glory; on which the moonbeams lie like a mantle of silver, while away down in its fathomless depths the stars glow and sparkle, like the sheen of a million of diamonds. Of the old forests and trees
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of fabulous growth, stretching away and away on every hand, throwing their sombre shadows far out over the water, in whose tangled recesses countless deer and moose, and panthers, and bears range, and among whose branches birds of unknown melody carol. That one side of this beautiful lake is palisadoed by a wall of rocks, stand straight up sixty feet
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high, near the top of which is a shelf or narrow pathway, along which two men can scarcely walk abreast. That he was passing along this pathway one afternoon, examining the rocks, and looking for geological specimens. Below him was a precipice of fifty feet, against the base of which the waves, when the winds swept over the lake, dashed.
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Around him the birds that build their nests in the crevices of the rock were whirling and screaming, while before him lay the beautiful lake, motionless and calm, as if it had fallen asleep and was slumbering sweetly in its forest bed. That he was passing leisurely along with his rifle at a trail, admiring the transcendent loveliness of the
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scenery around him, where the rugged and the sublime, the placid and the beautiful, were so magnificently mingled, when, in turning a sharp angle, a huge bear" "Copy!" shouted the printer's devil, as he came plunging down three steps at a bound from the compositors' room above. "Copy!" he screamed, as he dove into the outer office where that article
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was usually kept, but found none. "Mr. H.," said he, as he opened my door so gently, with a voice so quiet, and a look so innocent, that one might well be excused for believing that he had never spoken a loud word in his life, "Mr. H----, the foreman desired me to ask you for some copy." "You see,
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my friend," said I to the anxious inquirer after truth, "that I am exceedingly busy just now. You will excuse me, therefore, for referring you to the Doctor and Spalding, who know all about the matter. Good day." And my friend departed without finishing the story Smith told him about his killing the bear. I have never heard the balance
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of that story yet. And now, Reader, a word to you, and I have done. When the sun comes up over the city, day after day, pouring his burning rays along the glimmering streets, shining on and on in a changeless glare, till he hides himself in the darkness again; when your strength wilts under the enervating influences of the
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summer heats, and you pant for the forest breezes and the "cooling streams," remember that the same wild region I have been describing, the same pleasant rivers, beautiful lakes, tall mountains, and primeval forests are there still, all inviting you to test their recuperative agencies. The same singing birds, the fishes and the game are there waiting your pleasure. Visit
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them when the summer heat makes the cities a desolation. Give a month to the enjoyment of a wilderness-life, and you will return to your labors invigorated in strength, buoyant in spirit--a wiser, healthier, and a better man. FINIS.
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The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri Translated by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW INFERNO Contents Canto I. The Dark Forest. The Hill of Difficulty. The Panther, the Lion, and the Wolf. Virgil. Canto II. The Descent. Dantes Protest and Virgils Appeal. The Intercession of the Three Ladies Benedight. Canto III. The Gate of Hell. The Inefficient or Indifferent. Pope Celestine V. The
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Shores of Acheron. Charon. The Earthquake and the Swoon. Canto IV. The First Circle, Limbo: Virtuous Pagans and the Unbaptized. The Four Poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. The Noble Castle of Philosophy. Canto V. The Second Circle: The Wanton. Minos. The Infernal Hurricane. Francesca da Rimini. Canto VI. The Third Circle: The Gluttonous. Cerberus. The Eternal Rain. Ciacco. Florence.
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Canto VII. The Fourth Circle: The Avaricious and the Prodigal. Plutus. Fortune and her Wheel. The Fifth Circle: The Irascible and the Sullen. Styx. Canto VIII. Phlegyas. Philippo Argenti. The Gate of the City of Dis. Canto IX. The Furies and Medusa. The Angel. The City of Dis. The Sixth Circle: Heresiarchs. Canto X. Farinata and Cavalcante de Cavalcanti. Discourse
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on the Knowledge of the Damned. Canto XI. The Broken Rocks. Pope Anastasius. General Description of the Inferno and its Divisions. Canto XII. The Minotaur. The Seventh Circle: The Violent. The River Phlegethon. The Violent against their Neighbours. The Centaurs. Tyrants. Canto XIII. The Wood of Thorns. The Harpies. The Violent against themselves. Suicides. Pier della Vigna. Lano and Jacopo
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da Sant Andrea. Canto XIV. The Sand Waste and the Rain of Fire. The Violent against God. Capaneus. The Statue of Time, and the Four Infernal Rivers. Canto XV. The Violent against Nature. Brunetto Latini. Canto XVI. Guidoguerra, Aldobrandi, and Rusticucci. Cataract of the River of Blood. Canto XVII. Geryon. The Violent against Art. Usurers. Descent into the Abyss of
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Malebolge. Canto XVIII. The Eighth Circle, Malebolge: The Fraudulent and the Malicious. The First Bolgia: Seducers and Panders. Venedico Caccianimico. Jason. The Second Bolgia: Flatterers. Allessio Interminelli. Thais. Canto XIX. The Third Bolgia: Simoniacs. Pope Nicholas III. Dantes Reproof of corrupt Prelates. Canto XX. The Fourth Bolgia: Soothsayers. Amphiaraus, Tiresias, Aruns, Manto, Eryphylus, Michael Scott, Guido Bonatti, and Asdente. Virgil
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reproaches Dantes Pity. Mantuas Foundation. Canto XXI. The Fifth Bolgia: Peculators. The Elder of Santa Zita. Malacoda and other Devils. Canto XXII. Ciampolo, Friar Gomita, and Michael Zanche. The Malabranche quarrel. Canto XXIII. Escape from the Malabranche. The Sixth Bolgia: Hypocrites. Catalano and Loderingo. Caiaphas. Canto XXIV. The Seventh Bolgia: Thieves. Vanni Fucci. Serpents. Canto XXV. Vanni Fuccis Punishment. Agnello
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Brunelleschi, Buoso degli Abati, Puccio Sciancato, Cianfa de Donati, and Guercio Cavalcanti. Canto XXVI. The Eighth Bolgia: Evil Counsellors. Ulysses and Diomed. Ulysses Last Voyage. Canto XXVII. Guido da Montefeltro. His deception by Pope Boniface VIII. Canto XXVIII. The Ninth Bolgia: Schismatics. Mahomet and Ali. Pier da Medicina, Curio, Mosca, and Bertrand de Born. Canto XXIX. Geri del Bello. The
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Tenth Bolgia: Alchemists. Griffolino d Arezzo and Capocchino. Canto XXX. Other Falsifiers or Forgers. Gianni Schicchi, Myrrha, Adam of Brescia, Potiphars Wife, and Sinon of Troy. Canto XXXI. The Giants, Nimrod, Ephialtes, and Antaeus. Descent to Cocytus. Canto XXXII. The Ninth Circle: Traitors. The Frozen Lake of Cocytus. First Division, Caina: Traitors to their Kindred. Camicion de Pazzi. Second Division,
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Antenora: Traitors to their Country. Dante questions Bocca degli Abati. Buoso da Duera. Canto XXXIII. Count Ugolino and the Archbishop Ruggieri. The Death of Count Ugolinos Sons. Third Division of the Ninth Circle, Ptolomaea: Traitors to their Friends. Friar Alberigo, Branco d Oria. Canto XXXIV. Fourth Division of the Ninth Circle, the Judecca: Traitors to their Lords and Benefactors. Lucifer,
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Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius. The Chasm of Lethe. The Ascent. Inferno: Canto I Midway upon the journey of our life I found myself within a forest dark, For the straightforward pathway had been lost. Ah me! how hard a thing it is to say What was this forest savage, rough, and stern, Which in the very thought renews the
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fear. So bitter is it, death is little more; But of the good to treat, which there I found, Speak will I of the other things I saw there. I cannot well repeat how there I entered, So full was I of slumber at the moment In which I had abandoned the true way. But after I had reached a
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mountains foot, At that point where the valley terminated, Which had with consternation pierced my heart, Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders, Vested already with that planets rays Which leadeth others right by every road. Then was the fear a little quieted That in my hearts lake had endured throughout The night, which I had passed so piteously.
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And even as he, who, with distressful breath, Forth issued from the sea upon the shore, Turns to the water perilous and gazes; So did my soul, that still was fleeing onward, Turn itself back to re-behold the pass Which never yet a living person left. After my weary body I had rested, The way resumed I on the desert
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slope, So that the firm foot ever was the lower. And lo! almost where the ascent began, A panther light and swift exceedingly, Which with a spotted skin was covered oer! And never moved she from before my face, Nay, rather did impede so much my way, That many times I to return had turned. The time was the beginning
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of the morning, And up the sun was mounting with those stars That with him were, what time the Love Divine At first in motion set those beauteous things; So were to me occasion of good hope, The variegated skin of that wild beast, The hour of time, and the delicious season; But not so much, that did not give
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me fear A lions aspect which appeared to me. He seemed as if against me he were coming With head uplifted, and with ravenous hunger, So that it seemed the air was afraid of him; And a she-wolf, that with all hungerings Seemed to be laden in her meagreness, And many folk has caused to live forlorn! She brought upon
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me so much heaviness, With the affright that from her aspect came, That I the hope relinquished of the height. And as he is who willingly acquires, And the time comes that causes him to lose, Who weeps in all his thoughts and is despondent, Een such made me that beast withouten peace, Which, coming on against me by degrees
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Thrust me back thither where the sun is silent. While I was rushing downward to the lowland, Before mine eyes did one present himself, Who seemed from long-continued silence hoarse. When I beheld him in the desert vast, Have pity on me, unto him I cried, Whicheer thou art, or shade or real man! He answered me: Not man; man
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once I was, And both my parents were of Lombardy, And Mantuans by country both of them. Sub Julio was I born, though it was late, And lived at Rome under the good Augustus, During the time of false and lying gods. A poet was I, and I sang that just Son of Anchises, who came forth from Troy, After
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that Ilion the superb was burned. But thou, why goest thou back to such annoyance? Why climbst thou not the Mount Delectable, Which is the source and cause of every joy? Now, art thou that Virgilius and that fountain Which spreads abroad so wide a river of speech? I made response to him with bashful forehead. O, of the other
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poets honour and light, Avail me the long study and great love That have impelled me to explore thy volume! Thou art my master, and my author thou, Thou art alone the one from whom I took The beautiful style that has done honour to me. Behold the beast, for which I have turned back; Do thou protect me from
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her, famous Sage, For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble. Thee it behoves to take another road, Responded he, when he beheld me weeping, If from this savage place thou wouldst escape; Because this beast, at which thou criest out, Suffers not any one to pass her way, But so doth harass him, that she destroys him; And
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has a nature so malign and ruthless, That never doth she glut her greedy will, And after food is hungrier than before. Many the animals with whom she weds, And more they shall be still, until the Greyhound Comes, who shall make her perish in her pain. He shall not feed on either earth or pelf, But upon wisdom, and
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on love and virtue; Twixt Feltro and Feltro shall his nation be; Of that low Italy shall he be the saviour, On whose account the maid Camilla died, Euryalus, Turnus, Nisus, of their wounds; Through every city shall he hunt her down, Until he shall have driven her back to Hell, There from whence envy first did let her loose.
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Therefore I think and judge it for thy best Thou follow me, and I will be thy guide, And lead thee hence through the eternal place, Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations, Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate, Who cry out each one for the second death; And thou shalt see those who contented are Within the fire, because
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they hope to come, Wheneer it may be, to the blessed people; To whom, then, if thou wishest to ascend, A soul shall be for that than I more worthy; With her at my departure I will leave thee; Because that Emperor, who reigns above, In that I was rebellious to his law, Wills that through me none come into
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his city. He governs everywhere, and there he reigns; There is his city and his lofty throne; O happy he whom thereto he elects! And I to him: Poet, I thee entreat, By that same God whom thou didst never know, So that I may escape this woe and worse, Thou wouldst conduct me there where thou hast said, That
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I may see the portal of Saint Peter, And those thou makest so disconsolate. Then he moved on, and I behind him followed. Inferno: Canto II Day was departing, and the embrowned air Released the animals that are on earth From their fatigues; and I the only one Made myself ready to sustain the war, Both of the way and
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likewise of the woe, Which memory that errs not shall retrace. O Muses, O high genius, now assist me! O memory, that didst write down what I saw, Here thy nobility shall be manifest! And I began: Poet, who guidest me, Regard my manhood, if it be sufficient, Ere to the arduous pass thou dost confide me. Thou sayest, that
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of Silvius the parent, While yet corruptible, unto the world Immortal went, and was there bodily. But if the adversary of all evil Was courteous, thinking of the high effect That issue would from him, and who, and what, To men of intellect unmeet it seems not; For he was of great Rome, and of her empire In the empyreal
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heaven as father chosen; The which and what, wishing to speak the truth, Were stablished as the holy place, wherein Sits the successor of the greatest Peter. Upon this journey, whence thou givest him vaunt, Things did he hear, which the occasion were Both of his victory and the papal mantle. Thither went afterwards the Chosen Vessel, To bring back
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comfort thence unto that Faith, Which of salvations way is the beginning. But I, why thither come, or who concedes it? I not Aeneas am, I am not Paul, Nor I, nor others, think me worthy of it. Therefore, if I resign myself to come, I fear the coming may be ill-advised; Thourt wise, and knowest better than I speak.
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And as he is, who unwills what he willed, And by new thoughts doth his intention change, So that from his design he quite withdraws, Such I became, upon that dark hillside, Because, in thinking, I consumed the emprise, Which was so very prompt in the beginning. If I have well thy language understood, Replied that shade of the Magnanimous,
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Thy soul attainted is with cowardice, Which many times a man encumbers so, It turns him back from honoured enterprise, As false sight doth a beast, when he is shy. That thou mayst free thee from this apprehension, Ill tell thee why I came, and what I heard At the first moment when I grieved for thee. Among those was
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I who are in suspense, And a fair, saintly Lady called to me In such wise, I besought her to command me. Her eyes where shining brighter than the Star; And she began to say, gentle and low, With voice angelical, in her own language: O spirit courteous of Mantua, Of whom the fame still in the world endures, And
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shall endure, long-lasting as the world; A friend of mine, and not the friend of fortune, Upon the desert slope is so impeded Upon his way, that he has turned through terror, And may, I fear, already be so lost, That I too late have risen to his succour, From that which I have heard of him in Heaven. Bestir
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thee now, and with thy speech ornate, And with what needful is for his release, Assist him so, that I may be consoled. Beatrice am I, who do bid thee go; I come from there, where I would fain return; Love moved me, which compelleth me to speak. When I shall be in presence of my Lord, Full often will
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I praise thee unto him. Then paused she, and thereafter I began: O Lady of virtue, thou alone through whom The human race exceedeth all contained Within the heaven that has the lesser circles, So grateful unto me is thy commandment, To obey, if twere already done, were late; No farther needst thou ope to me thy wish. But the
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cause tell me why thou dost not shun The here descending down into this centre, From the vast place thou burnest to return to. Since thou wouldst fain so inwardly discern, Briefly will I relate, she answered me, Why I am not afraid to enter here. Of those things only should one be afraid Which have the power of doing
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others harm; Of the rest, no; because they are not fearful. God in his mercy such created me That misery of yours attains me not, Nor any flame assails me of this burning. A gentle Lady is in Heaven, who grieves At this impediment, to which I send thee, So that stern judgment there above is broken. In her entreaty
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she besought Lucia, And said, Thy faithful one now stands in need Of thee, and unto thee I recommend him. Lucia, foe of all that cruel is, Hastened away, and came unto the place Where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel. Beatrice said she, the true praise of God, Why succourest thou not him, who loved thee so, For
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thee he issued from the vulgar herd? Dost thou not hear the pity of his plaint? Dost thou not see the death that combats him Beside that flood, where ocean has no vaunt? Never were persons in the world so swift To work their weal and to escape their woe, As I, after such words as these were uttered, Came
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hither downward from my blessed seat, Confiding in thy dignified discourse, Which honours thee, and those whove listened to it. After she thus had spoken unto me, Weeping, her shining eyes she turned away; Whereby she made me swifter in my coming; And unto thee I came, as she desired; I have delivered thee from that wild beast, Which barred
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the beautiful mountains short ascent. What is it, then? Why, why dost thou delay? Why is such baseness bedded in thy heart? Daring and hardihood why hast thou not, Seeing that three such Ladies benedight Are caring for thee in the court of Heaven, And so much good my speech doth promise thee? Even as the flowerets, by nocturnal chill,
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Bowed down and closed, when the sun whitens them, Uplift themselves all open on their stems; Such I became with my exhausted strength, And such good courage to my heart there coursed, That I began, like an intrepid person: O she compassionate, who succoured me, And courteous thou, who hast obeyed so soon The words of truth which she addressed
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to thee! Thou hast my heart so with desire disposed To the adventure, with these words of thine, That to my first intent I have returned. Now go, for one sole will is in us both, Thou Leader, and thou Lord, and Master thou. Thus said I to him; and when he had moved, I entered on the deep and
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savage way. Inferno: Canto III Through me the way is to the city dolent; Through me the way is to eternal dole; Through me the way among the people lost. Justice incited my sublime Creator; Created me divine Omnipotence, The highest Wisdom and the primal Love. Before me there were no created things, Only eterne, and I eternal last. All
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hope abandon, ye who enter in! These words in sombre colour I beheld Written upon the summit of a gate; Whence I: Their sense is, Master, hard to me! And he to me, as one experienced: Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned, All cowardice must needs be here extinct. We to the place have come, where I have told
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thee Thou shalt behold the people dolorous Who have foregone the good of intellect. And after he had laid his hand on mine With joyful mien, whence I was comforted, He led me in among the secret things. There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud Resounded through the air without a star, Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat. Languages diverse,
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horrible dialects, Accents of anger, words of agony, And voices high and hoarse, with sound of hands, Made up a tumult that goes whirling on For ever in that air for ever black, Even as the sand doth, when the whirlwind breathes. And I, who had my head with horror bound, Said: Master, what is this which now I hear?
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