In The Middle Of The

O Conscience, Upright And Stainless, How Bitter A Sting To Thee Is A Little Fault!

I Wept Not — So To Stone I Grew Within.

There Is No Greater Pain Than To Remember, In Our Present Grief, Past Happiness.

Nothing Which Is Harmonized By The Bond Of The Muse Can Be Changed From Its Own To Another Language Without Destroying Its Sweetness

Through Me You Pass Into The City Of Woe: Through Me You Pass Into Eternal Pain: Through Me Among The People Lost For Aye. Justice The Founder Of My Fabric Moved: To Rear Me Was The Task Of Power Divine, Supremest Wisdom, And Primeval Love. Before Me Things Create Were None, Save Things Eternal, And Eternal I Shall Endure. All Hope Abandon, Ye Who Enter Here.