Part 49

IX The wondrous boat scant touched the troubled main But all the sea still, hushed and quiet was, Vanished the clouds, ceased the wind and rain, The tempests threatened overblow and pass, A gentle breathing air made even and plain The azure face of heaven’s smooth looking-glass, And heaven itself smiled from the skies above With a calm clearness on the earth his love.

X By Ascalon they sailed, and forth drived, Toward the west their speedy course they frame, In sight of Gaza till the bark arrived, A little port when first it took that name; But since, by others’ loss so well it thrived A city great and rich that it became, And there the shores and borders of the land They found as full of armed men as sand.

XI The passengers to landward turned their sight, And there saw pitched many a stately tent, Soldier and footman, captain, lord and knight, Between the shore and city, came and went: Huge elephants, strong camels, coursers light, With horned hoofs the sandy ways outrent, And in the haven many a ship and boat, With mighty anchors fastened, swim and float;

XII Some spread their sails, some with strong oars sweep The waters smooth, and brush the buxom wave, Their breasts in sunder cleave the yielding deep, The broken seas for anger foam and rave, When thus their guide began, “Sir knights, take keep How all these shores are spread with squadrons brave And troops of hardy knights, yet on these sands The monarch scant hath gathered half his bands.

XIII “Of Egypt only these the forces are, And aid from other lands they here attend, For twixt the noon-day sun and morning star, All realms at his command do bow and bend; So that I trust we shall return from far, And bring our journey long to wished end, Before this king or his lieutenant shall These armies bring to Zion’s conquered wall.”

XIV While thus she said, as soaring eagles fly Mongst other birds securely through the air, And mounting up behold with wakeful eye, The radiant beams of old Hyperion’s hair, Her gondola so passed swiftly by Twixt ship and ship, withouten fear or care Who should her follow, trouble, stop or stay, And forth to sea made lucky speed and way.

XV Themselves fornenst old Raffia’s town they fand, A town that first to sailors doth appear As they from Syria pass to Egypt land: The sterile coasts of barren Rhinocere They passed, and seas where Casius hill doth stand That with his trees o’erspreads the waters near, Against whose roots breaketh the brackish wave Where Jove his temple, Pompey hath his grave:

XVI Then Damiata next, where they behold How to the sea his tribute Nilus pays By his seven mouths renowned in stories old, And by an hundred more ignoble ways: They pass the town built by the Grecian bold, Of him called Alexandria till our days, And Pharaoh’s tower and isle removed of yore Far from the land, now joined to the shore:

XVII Both Crete and Rhodes they left by north unseen, And sailed along the coasts of Afric lands, Whose sea towns fair, but realms more inward been All full of monsters and of desert sands: With her five cities then they left Cyrene, Where that old temple of false Hammon stands: Next Ptolemais, and that sacred wood Whence spring the silent streams of Lethe flood.

XVIII The greater Syrte, that sailors often cast In peril great of death and loss extreme, They compassed round about, and safely passed, The Cape Judeca and flood Magra’s stream; Then Tripoli, gainst which is Malta placed, That low and hid, to lurk in seas doth seem: The little Syrte then, and Alzerhes isle, Where dwelt the folk that Lotos ate erewhile.

XIX Next Tunis on the crooked shore they spied, Whose bay a rock on either side defends, Tunis all towns in beauty, wealth and pride Above, as far as Libya’s bounds extends; Gainst which, from fair Sicilia’s fertile side, His rugged front great Lilybaeum bends. The dame there pointed out where sometime stood Rome’s stately rival whilom, Carthage proud;

XX Great Carthage low in ashes cold doth lie, Her ruins poor the herbs in height scant pass, So cities fall, so perish kingdoms high, Their pride and pomp lies hid in sand and grass: Then why should mortal man repine to die, Whose life, is air; breath, wind; and body, glass? From thence the seas next Bisert’s walls they cleft, And far Sardinia on their right hand left.

XXI Numidia’s mighty plains they coasted then, Where wandering shepherds used their flocks to feed, Then Bugia and Argier, the infamous den Of pirates false, Oran they left with speed, All Tingitan they swiftly overren, Where elephants and angry lions breed, Where now the realms of Fez and Maroc be, Gainst which Granada’s shores and coasts they see.

XXII Now are they there, where first the sea brake in By great Alcides’ help, as stories feign, True may it be that where those floods begin It whilom was a firm and solid main Before the sea there through did passage win And parted Afric from the land of Spain, Abila hence, thence Calpe great upsprings, Such power hath time to change the face of things.

XXIII Four times the sun had spread his morning ray Since first the dame launched forth her wondrous barge And never yet took port in creek or bay, But fairly forward bore the knights her charge; Now through the strait her jolly ship made way, And boldly sailed upon the ocean large; But if the sea in midst of earth was great, Oh what was this, wherein earth hath her seat?

XXIV Now deep engulphed in the mighty flood They saw not Gades, nor the mountains near, Fled was the land, and towns on land that stood, Heaven covered sea, sea seemed the heavens to bear. “At last, fair lady,” quoth Ubaldo good, “That in this endless main dost guide us here, If ever man before here sailed tell, Or other lands here be wherein men dwell.”

XXV “Great Hercules,” quoth she, “when he had quailed The monsters fierce in Afric and in Spain, And all along your coasts and countries sailed, Yet durst he not assay the ocean main, Within his pillars would he have impaled The overdaring wit of mankind vain, Till Lord Ulysses did those bounders pass, To see and know he so desirous was.

XXVI “He passed those pillars, and in open wave Of the broad sea first his bold sails untwined, But yet the greedy ocean was his grave, Naught helped him his skill gainst tide and wind; With him all witness of his voyage brave Lies buried there, no truth thereof we find, And they whom storm hath forced that way since, Are drowned all, or unreturned from thence:

XXVII “So that this mighty sea is yet unsought, Where thousand isles and kingdoms lie unknown, Not void of men as some have vainly thought, But peopled well, and wonned like your own; The land is fertile ground, but scant well wrought, Air wholesome, temperate sun, grass proudly grown.” “But,” quoth Ubaldo, “dame, I pray thee teach Of that hid world, what be the laws and speech?”

XXVIII “As diverse be their nations,” answered she, “Their tongues, their rites, their laws so different are; Some pray to beasts, some to a stone or tree, Some to the earth, the sun, or morning star; Their meats unwholesome, vile, and hateful be, Some eat man’s flesh, and captives ta’en in war, And all from Calpe’s mountain west that dwell, In faith profane, in life are rude and fell.”

XXIX “But will our gracious God,” the knight replied, “That with his blood all sinful men hath bought, His truth forever and his gospel hide From all those lands, as yet unknown, unsought?” “Oh no,” quoth she, “his name both far and wide Shall there be known, all learning thither brought, Nor shall these long and tedious ways forever Your world and theirs, their lands, your kingdoms sever.

XXX “The time shall come that sailors shall disdain To talk or argue of Alcides’ streat, And lands and seas that nameless yet remain, Shall well be known, their boundaries, site and seat, The ships encompass shall the solid main, As far as seas outstretch their waters great, And measure all the world, and with the sun About this earth, this globe, this compass, run.

XXXI “A knight of Genes shall have the hardiment Upon this wondrous voyage first to wend, Nor winds nor waves, that ships in sunder rent, Nor seas unused, strange clime, or pool unkenned, Nor other peril nor astonishment That makes frail hearts of men to bow and bend, Within Abilas’ strait shall keep and hold The noble spirit of this sailor bold.

XXXII “Thy ship, Columbus, shall her canvas wing Spread o’er that world that yet concealed lies, That scant swift fame her looks shall after bring, Though thousand plumes she have, and thousand eyes; Let her of Bacchus and Alcides sing, Of thee to future age let this suffice, That of thine acts she some forewarning give, Which shall in verse and noble story live.”

XXXIII Thus talking, swift twixt south and west they run, And sliced out twixt froth and foam their way; At once they saw before, the setting sun; Behind, the rising beam of springing day; And when the morn her drops and dews begun To scatter broad upon the flowering lay, Far off a hill and mountain high they spied, Whose top the clouds environ, clothe and hide;

XXXIV And drawing near, the hill at ease they view, When all the clouds were molten, fallen and fled, Whose top pyramid-wise did pointed show, High, narrow, sharp, the sides yet more outspread, Thence now and then fire, flame and smoke outflew, As from that hill, whereunder lies in bed Enceladus, whence with imperious sway Bright fire breaks out by night, black smoke by day.

XXXV About the hill lay other islands small, Where other rocks, crags, cliffs, and mountains stood, The Isles Fortunate these elder time did call, To which high Heaven they reigned so kind and good, And of his blessings rich so liberal, That without tillage earth gives corn for food, And grapes that swell with sweet and precious wine There without pruning yields the fertile vine.

XXXVI The olive fat there ever buds and flowers, The honey-drops from hollow oaks distil, The falling brook her silver streams downpours With gentle murmur from their native hill, The western blast tempereth with dews and showers The sunny rays, lest heat the blossoms kill, The fields Elysian, as fond heathen sain, Were there, where souls of men in bliss remain.