第十二篇我和在重负之下的灵魂并列而行，像同轭的两头牛，直到我温和的老师停止他的认可。他说：“离开他我们前进罢！因为这里每个人都应当尽力用帆用桨，努力推进他的小船。”由于行路的需要，我立直了我的身体，虽然在我的思想上还是曲折着。
我向前走着，很欢喜地跟着我老师的脚迹，我们两人都觉得步履轻捷，那时他对我说：“请你把眼睛向下面看；为打破旅途的寂寞，看看你脚下的土地。”
当我们行到墓地的时候，每见有刻着字画的石碑，用以纪念地下的人生前的事迹；看着这种字画，也足以刺激人的回忆，常常使他的亲族潇洒些热泪。我在那里所见的雕刻也是这样，只是雕匠的本领高妙，更加仿真罢了；那里的全路面都是这种雕刻。
在一边，我看见比其他造物更高贵的一位，像闪电一般由天而降。在另一边，我看见城市里的阿留斯被天上的闪电所击，硬挺挺地倒在地上。我看见提姆勃拉由斯，我看见帕拉斯和玛尔斯，都手执着武器，围绕着他们的父亲，注视着巨人们七零八落的残肢体。我看见宁录立在他巨大工程的脚前，似乎心绪烦乱，呆望着在示拿地伴他做工的那班傲慢的人们。尼俄柏呀！我看见你站在被杀的七个男儿和七个女儿中间，令我多么的伤心。扫罗呀！怎么你会在基利波死在自己的刀上，使那块地方以后既没有雨也没有露呢？疯狂的阿拉科呀！我看见你已经一半变为蜘蛛，没精打采地对着你织锦的一角。这是令你痛苦的作品呀！罗波安呀！你的形象现在在这里并不可怕；但是你惊惶失色坐上车逃走，后面的人还没有追上你呢。在那坚硬的路面上，又表现出阿尔克迈翁叫他的母亲对于不幸的饰物支付怎样的代价。那里又表示出西拿基立的两个儿子怎样进庙里把他杀死，把他的尸体弃置。那里又显示出托密利斯所做的残杀，她对居鲁土说：“你是渴于血，所以我浸你在血水里！”那里又表示出怎样在奥洛费尔内被杀后，亚述兵的奔逃和血肉斑驳狼藉。我看见特焰亚城化为一堆灰烬的废墟；伊利昂呀！这里的雕刻将你表示得多么卑鄙呀！
就是精于用刻刀和画笔的人间大师，描摹形态至使人惊奇而钦佩其绝妙的天才，到此地也都有不拜服的呀！活的像活的，死的像死的。看见过真实情形的人，反不能比我俯着头看着脚下的雕像来逼真了。夏娃的子孙呀！你傲慢罢，昂首行事罢，不要低头罢，于是你可以看见自己的恶道报应了！
我们绕着山壁又走了一段路程，因为我注视地面的缘故，不觉太阳的移动，但常走在我前面的这一位，却不断地留心着应当做的事情，开始说：“请你抬起你的头罢！没有时间俯着走了。看！前面有位天使，似乎要朝我们迎上来了；看！第六个女仆已经完成她一日的工作了。你的举动和仪态，都要饰以尊敬，才可以叫天使喜欢，送我们上升！你要想：像这一天的机会，是永不会再来的呀！”我一向听惯了他劝戒我勿要失时，所以我决不会误解我他刚才的话。
那美丽的造物，身着白袍，面貌像闪烁的晨星，向我们迎来。他张开他的双臂，展开他的双翼说：“来罢；靠近这里有上升的阶梯，你们现在可以很容易地上升了。”能够回答他的呼唤的人太少呀！人类呵！你本是为升天而生的，为什么如此微弱的风便会将你轻拂而下呢？
天使把我们引到一处，那里的山岩已经削斫；那时他在我的额上用翼轻抹一下，保证我往后上升的轻快。如同攀登右岸的山，那里耸立着一处教堂，临着卢巴康提桥这边一个政治很好的城市，那里峻峭的崖壁已经有了阶梯，使倾斜度减低，这个显然是在登记和尺度没有混乱的时代建造的：这里壁立的山岩，也是如此缓和从下圈到上圈的倾斜度；不过，左右山岩是用手可以摸得着的。当我们转身走向上升的阶梯时，听见有人唱着：“虚心的人有福了。”曲调的悦耳，不是语言可以复述的。唉！这里的路径和地狱里是多么不同呀！这里是一片悦耳的歌声，那里便是一阵猛厉的呼号。
我们走在神圣的阶梯上，觉得比以前在平地层上走得还要轻快。于是我说：“老师！请告诉我，我放下了什么重物，使我的前进毫不感到疲劳呢？”他答道：“假使你额上所剩的P衣也像第一个一样都删去了，那末你的脚步趋向善途， 非但不感疲劳，而且越前进越愉快呢。”
我像个头顶着东西而不自觉的人，旁人告诉他，他用手去摸索，才证实这件事一样；我摸索一下，结果才知道自己眼睛看不到的东西。我用右手指摸在额上，发觉执有两柄钥匙的天使所刻的P字，现在只有六个了。 那时我的引导人看着我在微笑。
I with that laden spirit journey'd on
Long as the mild instructor suffer'd me;
But when he bade me quit him, and proceed
(For "here," said he, "behooves with sail and oars
Each man, as best he may, push on his bark"),
Upright, as one dispos'd for speed, I rais'd
My body, still in thought submissive bow'd.
I now my leader's track not loth pursued;
And each had shown how light we far'd along
When thus he warn'd me: "Bend thine eyesight down:
For thou to ease the way shall find it good
To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet."
As in memorial of the buried, drawn
Upon earth-level tombs, the sculptur'd form
Of what was once, appears (at sight whereof
Tears often stream forth by remembrance wak'd,
Whose sacred stings the piteous only feel),
So saw I there, but with more curious skill
Of portraiture o'erwrought, whate'er of space
From forth the mountain stretches. On one part
Him I beheld, above all creatures erst
Created noblest, light'ning fall from heaven:
On th' other side with bolt celestial pierc'd
Briareus: cumb'ring earth he lay through dint
Of mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbraean god
With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,
Arm'd still, and gazing on the giant's limbs
Strewn o'er th' ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:
At foot of the stupendous work he stood,
As if bewilder'd, looking on the crowd
Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar's plain.
O Niobe! in what a trance of woe
Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,
Sev'n sons on either side thee slain! O Saul!
How ghastly didst thou look! on thine own sword
Expiring in Gilboa, from that hour
Ne'er visited with rain from heav'n or dew!
O fond Arachne! thee I also saw
Half spider now in anguish crawling up
Th' unfinish'd web thou weaved'st to thy bane!
O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem
Louring no more defiance! but fear-smote
With none to chase him in his chariot whirl'd.
Was shown beside upon the solid floor
How dear Alcmaeon forc'd his mother rate
That ornament in evil hour receiv'd:
How in the temple on Sennacherib fell
His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.
Was shown the scath and cruel mangling made
By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried:
"Blood thou didst thirst for, take thy fill of blood!"
Was shown how routed in the battle fled
Th' Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e'en
The relics of the carnage. Troy I mark'd
In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fall'n,
How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there!
What master of the pencil or the style
Had trac'd the shades and lines, that might have made
The subtlest workman wonder? Dead the dead,
The living seem'd alive; with clearer view
His eye beheld not who beheld the truth,
Than mine what I did tread on, while I went
Low bending. Now swell out; and with stiff necks
Pass on, ye sons of Eve! veil not your looks,
Lest they descry the evil of your path!
I noted not (so busied was my thought)
How much we now had circled of the mount,
And of his course yet more the sun had spent,
When he, who with still wakeful caution went,
Admonish'd: "Raise thou up thy head: for know
Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold
That way an angel hasting towards us! Lo
Where duly the sixth handmaid doth return
From service on the day. Wear thou in look
And gesture seemly grace of reverent awe,
That gladly he may forward us aloft.
Consider that this day ne'er dawns again."
Time's loss he had so often warn'd me 'gainst,
I could not miss the scope at which he aim'd.
The goodly shape approach'd us, snowy white
In vesture, and with visage casting streams
Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.
His arms he open'd, then his wings; and spake:
"Onward: the steps, behold! are near; and now
Th' ascent is without difficulty gain'd."
A scanty few are they, who when they hear
Such tidings, hasten. O ye race of men
Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind
So slight to baffle ye? He led us on
Where the rock parted; here against my front
Did beat his wings, then promis'd I should fare
In safety on my way. As to ascend
That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands
(O'er Rubaconte, looking lordly down
On the well-guided city,) up the right
Th' impetuous rise is broken by the steps
Carv'd in that old and simple age, when still
The registry and label rested safe;
Thus is th' acclivity reliev'd, which here
Precipitous from the other circuit falls:
But on each hand the tall cliff presses close.
As ent'ring there we turn'd, voices, in strain
Ineffable, sang: "Blessed are the poor
In spirit." Ah how far unlike to these
The straits of hell; here songs to usher us,
There shrieks of woe! We climb the holy stairs:
And lighter to myself by far I seem'd
Than on the plain before, whence thus I spake:
"Say, master, of what heavy thing have I
Been lighten'd, that scarce aught the sense of toil
Affects me journeying?" He in few replied:
"When sin's broad characters, that yet remain
Upon thy temples, though well nigh effac'd,
Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out,
Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will
Be so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel
No sense of labour, but delight much more
Shall wait them urg'd along their upward way."
Then like to one, upon whose head is plac'd
Somewhat he deems not of but from the becks
Of others as they pass him by; his hand
Lends therefore help to' assure him, searches, finds,
And well performs such office as the eye
Wants power to execute: so stretching forth
The fingers of my right hand, did I find
Six only of the letters, which his sword
Who bare the keys had trac'd upon my brow.
The leader, as he mark'd mine action, smil'd.