Making My Way Through Hell
William Blake, Inferno Canto I, PD
Well, after announcing that I was going to work on a series of reflections on the 100 cantos of The Divine Comedy, I have found myself so excited by the prospect that even though my notebook set aside for this project has not arrived, I’ve written poems on the first four cantos of the Inferno. In many ways these are still in draft and will likely change, but I hope you can enjoy them all the same.
Canto I
And I have also lost the mountain path
And fallen in the forest dark and grim,
Enduring what so often feels like wrath
But is just Love that’s boiling over the brim.
Falling off the Mountain of Delight,
The Sun still rising and not yet growing dim,
My sinner’s eyes are blinded by its Light.
So I must find another path to tread,
A path of hellishness darkness and of fright,
Yet one that will bring life back to the dead.
Canto II
A coward’s yellow bellow now runs across
The middle point of my most sinful self.
How can the savage way be more than loss,
Loss of all the causes of my health?
Where are the holy tears they shed for me,
The Jewels up on Heaven’s highest shelf?
As they descend from Heaven’s purity,
Raining down their just and holy prayer
I feel the hope of what I’m meant to be,
But first I must traverse the wicked stair.
Canto III
What hope is there as I pass the gate of sin?
Where in the unmoored clock of starless sky,
This unholy marsh, this wretched refuse bin
Will my final place be set before my eye?
Will be kept from either Hell or Heaven,
Lukewarm and living without eternal tie?
Or will I cross the swamp with sinful brethren,
Descending down to find purgative tears?
I’ve risen by the work of wicked leaven,
And must descend in spite of all my fears.
Canto IV
Are pagan philosophers and poets trapped,
Found hot or cold, yet still cannot advance,
Caught in a cage whose monstrous mouth has snapped
Shut, and leaving them without a chance?
If Socrates cannot reach the Celestial Rose,
If the One who is the Good does not grant
His grace to him, then surely I must lose
All remnants of the hope that I have left.
Unless to deeper truths Dante’s eye was closed
And Primal Love will not leave us bereft.
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