O.Wilde, Preface to 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'

The artist is the creator of beautiful things. (...)
Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty.
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all. (...)

No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything. (...)
All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself...


O. Wilde (1854-1900),
Preface to 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'


Sunday, May 15, 2011

Dante, The Divine Comedy, Hell, I, 61-136

LA DIVINA COMMEDIA di  Dante Alighieri

INFERNO
Canto I
(Virgilio)

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 Iulio, ancor che fosse tardi,
e vissi a Roma sotto 'l buono Augusto
nel tempo de li dèi falsi e bugiardi.

Poeta fui, e cantai di quel giusto
figliuol d'Anchise che venne di Troia,
poi che 'l superbo Ilïón fu combusto.

Ma tu perché ritorni a tanta noia?
perché non sali il dilettoso monte
ch'è principio e cagion di tutta gioia?».

«Or se' tu quel Virgilio e quella fonte
che spandi di parlar sì largo fiume?»,
rispuos' io lui con vergognosa fronte.

«O de li altri poeti onore e lume,
vagliami 'l lungo studio e 'l grande amore
che m'ha fatto cercar lo tuo volume.

Tu se' lo mio maestro e 'l mio autore,
tu se' solo colui da cu' io tolsi
lo bello stilo che m'ha fatto onore.

Vedi la bestia per cu' io mi volsi;
aiutami da lei, famoso saggio,
ch'ella mi fa tremar le vene e i polsi».

«A te convien tenere altro vïaggio»,
rispuose, poi che lagrimar mi vide,
«se vuo' campar d'esto loco selvaggio;

ché questa bestia, per la qual tu gride,
non lascia altrui passar per la sua via,
ma tanto lo 'mpedisce che l'uccide;

e ha natura sì malvagia e ria,
che mai non empie la bramosa voglia,
e dopo 'l pasto ha più fame che pria.

Molti son li animali a cui s'ammoglia,
e più saranno ancora, infin che 'l veltro
verrà, che la farà morir con doglia.

Questi non ciberà terra né peltro,
ma sapïenza, amore e virtute,
e sua nazion sarà tra feltro e feltro.

Di quella umile Italia fia salute
per cui morì la vergine Cammilla,
Eurialo e Turno e Niso di ferute.

Questi la caccerà per ogne villa,
fin che l'avrà rimessa ne lo 'nferno,
là onde 'nvidia prima dipartilla.

Ond' io per lo tuo me' penso e discerno
che tu mi segui, e io sarò tua guida,
e trarrotti di qui per loco etterno;

ove udirai le disperate strida,
vedrai li antichi spiriti dolenti,
ch'a la seconda morte ciascun grida;

e vederai color che son contenti
nel foco, perché speran di venire
quando che sia a le beate genti.

A le quai poi se tu vorrai salire,
anima fia a ciò più di me degna:
con lei ti lascerò nel mio partire;

ché quello imperador che là sù regna,
perch' i' fu' ribellante a la sua legge,
non vuol che 'n sua città per me si vegna.

In tutte parti impera e quivi regge;
quivi è la sua città e l'alto seggio:
oh felice colui cu' ivi elegge!».

E io a lui: «Poeta, io ti richeggio
per quello Dio che tu non conoscesti,
acciò ch'io fugga questo male e peggio,

che tu mi meni là dov' or dicesti,
sì ch'io veggia la porta di san Pietro
e color cui tu fai cotanto mesti».

Allor si mosse, e io li tenni dietro.


Dante meets Virgil,  by Stradano



The Divine Comedy

by  Dante Alighieri

[translated  by  James Finn Cotter]



 HELL
Canto I
 (Virgil)

While I was falling back to lower ground,
          Before my eyes now came a figure forward
          Of one grown feeble from long being mute.
 
            When I saw him in that deserted spot,
          "Pity me!" I shouted out to him,
          "Whoever you are, a shade or living man."
 
            "Not a man," he answered. "Once a man,
          Of parents who had come from Lombardy;
          Both of them were Mantuans by birth.
 
             "I was born late in Julius's reign
          And dwelt at Rome under the good Augustus
          In the period of false and lying gods.
 
          "A poet I was, and I sang of the just
          Son of Anchises who embarked from Troy
            After proud Ilium was burned to ashes.
 
             "But why do you turn back to so much grief?
          Why not bound up the delightful mountain
          Which is the source and font of every joy?"
 
             "Are you then Virgil and that wellspring
          That pours forth so lush a stream of speech?"
          Shamefacedly I responded to him.
 
             "O glory and light of all other poets,
          May the long study and the profound love
          That made me search your work come to my aid!
 
            "You are my mentor and my chosen author:
          Alone you are the one from whom I have taken
          The beautiful style that has brought me honor.
 
          "Look at the beast that drove me to turn back!
          Rescue me from her, celebrated sage,
          For she causes my veins and pulse to tremble."
   
            "You are destined to take another route,"
          He answered, seeing me reduced to tears,
          "If you want to be clear of this wilderness,
 
             "Because this beast that forces you to cry out
          Will not let anyone pass by her way
          But harries him until she finally kills him.
 
             "By nature she is so depraved and vicious
          That her greedy appetite is never filled:
          The more she feeds, the hungrier she grows.
 
            "Many the animal she has mated with,
          And will with more to come, until the Greyhound
          That shall painfully slaughter her arrives.
 
             "He shall not feast on property or pelf
          But on wisdom, love, and manliness,
         And he shall be born between Feltro and Feltro.
 
             "He shall save low prostrated Italy
          For which Nisus, Turnus, and Euryalus,
          And the virgin Camilla died of wounds.
 
             "He shall hunt the beast through every town
           Until he chases her back down to hell
          From which envy first had thrust her forth.
 
             "I think and judge it best for you, then,
          To follow me, for I will be your guide,
          Directing you to an eternal place
 
            "Where you shall listen to the desperate screams
          And see the spirits of the past in torment,
          As at his second death each one cries out;
 
             "And you shall also see those who are happy
          Even in flames, since they hope to come,
         Whenever that may be, among the blessed.
 
             "If you still wish to ascend to the blessed,
          A soul worthier than I shall guide you:
          On my departure I will leave you with her.
 
             "For the Emperor who rules there above,
          Since I lived in rebellion to his law,
         Will not permit me to enter his city.
 
             "Everywhere his kingdom comes: there he reigns,
          There his heavenly city and high throne.
          Oh happy the one elected to go there!"
 
            And I said to him, "Poet, I entreat you,
          By the God whom you have never known,
          So may I flee from this and from worse evil,
 
             "Lead me to the place you just described
          That I may come to see Saint Peter's gate
          And those you say are deeply sorrowful."
 
             Then he moved on and I walked straight behind.

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