"'Through me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved: To rear me was the task of power divine, Supremest wisdom, and primeval love. Before me things create were none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.' Such characters, in color dim, I marked Over a portal's lofty arch inscribed. Whereat I thus: 'Master, these words import Hard meaning.' He as one prepared replied: 'Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave; Here be vile fear extinguished. We are come Where I have told thee we shall see the souls To misery doomed, who intellectual good Have lost.' And when his hand he had stretched forth To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheered. Into that secret place he led me on. Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans, Resounded through the air pierced by no star, That e'en I wept at entering. Various tongues, Horrible languages, outcries of woe, Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, With hands together smote that swelled the sounds, Made up a tumult, that forever whirls Round through that air with solid darkness stained, Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies." _Cary._ The following, though less remarkable for its poetry than many others which we might select, is very difficult for the translator. We cite it as an illustration of the boldness with which Mr. Longfellow meets difficulties. "E quale è quei che suo dannaggio sogna, Che sognando disidera sognare, Si che quel ch'è, come non fosse, agogna; Tal mi fec'io non potendo parlare: Che disiava scusarmi e scusava Me tuttavia e not mi credea fare Maggior difetto men vergogna lava, Disse'l maestro, che'l tuo non è stato: Però d'ogni tristizia ti disgrava; E fa ragion ch'io ti sempre allato, Se più avvien che fortuna t'accoglia Dove sien genti in simigliante piato: Che voler ciò udire è bassa voglia." _Inferno_, XXX. 136-148. "And as he is who dreams of his own harm. Who dreaming wishes it may be a dream, So that he craves what is, as if it were not; Such I became, not having power to speak, For to excuse myself I wished, and still Excused myself, and did not think I did it. 'Less shame doth wash away a greater fault,' The Master said, 'than this of thine has been; Therefore thyself disburden of all sadness, And make account that I am aye beside thee, If e'er it come to pass that fortune bring thee Where there are people in a like dispute; For a base wish it is to wish to hear it.'" _Longfellow._