When we had run O'er all the ladder to its topmost round, As there we stood, on me the Mantuan fix'd His eyes, and thus he spake: "Both fires, my son, The temporal and the eternal, thou hast seen: And art arrived, where of itself my ken No further reaches. I with skill and art, Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take For guide. Thou hast o'ercome the steeper way, O'ercome the straiter. Lo! the sun, that darts His beam upon thy forehead: lo! the herb, The arborets and flowers, which of itself This land pours forth profuse. Till those bright eyes With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste To succour thee, thou mayest or seat thee down, Or wander where thou wilt. Expect no more Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, Free of thine own arbitrement to choose, Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense Were henceforth error. I invest thee then With crown and mitre, sovereign o'er thyself." _Purg._ c. 27--CARY.] The general meaning of the _Commedia_ is clear enough. But it certainly does appear to refuse to be fitted into a connected formal scheme of interpretation. It is not a homogeneous, consistent allegory, like the _Pilgrim's Progress_ and the _Fairy Queen_. The allegory continually breaks off, shifts its ground, gives place to other elements, or mingles with them--like a stream which suddenly sinks into the earth, and after passing under plains and mountains, reappears in a distant point, and in different scenery. We can, indeed, imagine its strange author commenting on it, and finding or marking out its prosaic substratum, with the cold-blooded precision and scholastic distinctions of the _Convito_. However, he has not done so. And of the many enigmas which present themselves, either in its structure or separate parts, the key seems hopelessly lost. The early commentators are very ingenious, but very unsatisfactory; they see where we can see, but beyond that they are as full of uncertainty as ourselves. It is in character with that solitary and haughty spirit, while touching universal sympathies, appalling and charming all hearts, to have delighted in his own dark sayings, which had meaning only to himself. It is true that, whether in irony, or from that quaint studious care for the appearance of literal truth, which makes him apologise for the wonders which he relates, and confirm them by an oath, "on the words of his poem,"[88] he provokes and challenges us; bids us admire "doctrine hidden under strange verses;"[89] bids us strain our eyes, for the veil is thin: Aguzza, qui, lettor, ben l'occhi al vero: Chè il velo è ora ben tanto sottile, Certo, che il trapassar dentro è leggiero.--_Purg._ c. 8. But eyes are still strained in conjecture and doubt. [Footnote 88: