Note 50 — DANTE.[1]
F. J. (Frederick John) Church translation
O ye who fain would listen to my song, Following in little bark full eagerly My venturous ship, that chanting hies along, Turn back unto your native shores again; Tempt not the deep, lest haply losing me, In unknown paths bewildered ye remain. I am the first this voyage to essay; Minerva breathes—Apollo is my guide; And new-born muses do the Bears display. Ye other few, who have look'd up on high For angels' food betimes, e'en here supplied Largely, but not enough to satisfy,— Mid the deep ocean ye your course may take, My track pursuing the pure waters through, Ere reunites the quickly-closing wake. Those glorious ones, who drove of yore their prow To Colchos, wonder'd not as ye will do, When they saw Jason working at the plough. Wright's Dante.