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diff --git a/1002-0.txt b/1002-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..900da70 --- /dev/null +++ b/1002-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6618 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1002 *** + +The Divine Comedy + +of Dante Alighieri + +Translated by +HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW + +PURGATORIO + + +Contents + +I. The Shores of Purgatory. The Four Stars. Cato of Utica. The Rush. +II. The Celestial Pilot. Casella. The Departure. +III. Discourse on the Limits of Reason. The Foot of the Mountain. Those who died in Contumacy of Holy Church. Manfredi. +IV. Farther Ascent. Nature of the Mountain. The Negligent, who postponed Repentance till the last Hour. Belacqua. +V. Those who died by Violence, but repentant. Buonconte di Monfeltro. La Pia. +VI. Dante’s Inquiry on Prayers for the Dead. Sordello. Italy. +VII. The Valley of Flowers. Negligent Princes. +VIII. The Guardian Angels and the Serpent. Nino di Gallura. The Three Stars. Currado Malaspina. +IX. Dante’s Dream of the Eagle. The Gate of Purgatory and the Angel. Seven P’s. The Keys. +X. The Needle’s Eye. The First Circle: The Proud. The Sculptures on the Wall. +XI. The Humble Prayer. Omberto di Santafiore. Oderisi d’ Agobbio. Provenzan Salvani. +XII. The Sculptures on the Pavement. Ascent to the Second Circle. +XIII. The Second Circle: The Envious. Sapia of Siena. +XIV. Guido del Duca and Renier da Calboli. Cities of the Arno Valley. Denunciation of Stubbornness. +XV. The Third Circle: The Irascible. Dante’s Visions. The Smoke. +XVI. Marco Lombardo. Lament over the State of the World. +XVII. Dante’s Dream of Anger. The Fourth Circle: The Slothful. Virgil’s Discourse of Love. +XVIII. Virgil further discourses of Love and Free Will. The Abbot of San Zeno. +XIX. Dante’s Dream of the Siren. The Fifth Circle: The Avaricious and Prodigal. Pope Adrian V. +XX. Hugh Capet. Corruption of the French Crown. Prophecy of the Abduction of Pope Boniface VIII and the Sacrilege of Philip the Fair. The Earthquake. +XXI. The Poet Statius. Praise of Virgil. +XXII. Statius’ Denunciation of Avarice. The Sixth Circle: The Gluttonous. The Mystic Tree. +XXIII. Forese. Reproof of immodest Florentine Women. +XXIV. Buonagiunta da Lucca. Pope Martin IV, and others. Inquiry into the State of Poetry. +XXV. Discourse of Statius on Generation. The Seventh Circle: The Wanton. +XXVI. Sodomites. Guido Guinicelli and Arnaldo Daniello. +XXVII. The Wall of Fire and the Angel of God. Dante’s Sleep upon the Stairway, and his Dream of Leah and Rachel. Arrival at the Terrestrial Paradise. +XXVIII. The River Lethe. Matilda. The Nature of the Terrestrial Paradise. +XXIX. The Triumph of the Church. +XXX. Virgil’s Departure. Beatrice. Dante’s Shame. +XXXI. Reproaches of Beatrice and Confession of Dante. The Passage of Lethe. The Seven Virtues. The Griffon. +XXXII. The Tree of Knowledge. Allegory of the Chariot. +XXXIII. Lament over the State of the Church. Final Reproaches of Beatrice. The River Eunoe. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto I + + +To run o’er better waters hoists its sail + The little vessel of my genius now, + That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel; + +And of that second kingdom will I sing + Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself, + And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy. + +But let dead Poesy here rise again, + O holy Muses, since that I am yours, + And here Calliope somewhat ascend, + +My song accompanying with that sound, + Of which the miserable magpies felt + The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon. + +Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire, + That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect + Of the pure air, as far as the first circle, + +Unto mine eyes did recommence delight + Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, + Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast. + +The beauteous planet, that to love incites, + Was making all the orient to laugh, + Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort. + +To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind + Upon the other pole, and saw four stars + Ne’er seen before save by the primal people. + +Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven. + O thou septentrional and widowed site, + Because thou art deprived of seeing these! + +When from regarding them I had withdrawn, + Turning a little to the other pole, + There where the Wain had disappeared already, + +I saw beside me an old man alone, + Worthy of so much reverence in his look, + That more owes not to father any son. + +A long beard and with white hair intermingled + He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses, + Of which a double list fell on his breast. + +The rays of the four consecrated stars + Did so adorn his countenance with light, + That him I saw as were the sun before him. + +“Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river, + Have fled away from the eternal prison?” + Moving those venerable plumes, he said: + +“Who guided you? or who has been your lamp + In issuing forth out of the night profound, + That ever black makes the infernal valley? + +The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken? + Or is there changed in heaven some council new, + That being damned ye come unto my crags?” + +Then did my Leader lay his grasp upon me, + And with his words, and with his hands and signs, + Reverent he made in me my knees and brow; + +Then answered him: “I came not of myself; + A Lady from Heaven descended, at whose prayers + I aided this one with my company. + +But since it is thy will more be unfolded + Of our condition, how it truly is, + Mine cannot be that this should be denied thee. + +This one has never his last evening seen, + But by his folly was so near to it + That very little time was there to turn. + +As I have said, I unto him was sent + To rescue him, and other way was none + Than this to which I have myself betaken. + +I’ve shown him all the people of perdition, + And now those spirits I intend to show + Who purge themselves beneath thy guardianship. + +How I have brought him would be long to tell thee. + Virtue descendeth from on high that aids me + To lead him to behold thee and to hear thee. + +Now may it please thee to vouchsafe his coming; + He seeketh Liberty, which is so dear, + As knoweth he who life for her refuses. + +Thou know’st it; since, for her, to thee not bitter + Was death in Utica, where thou didst leave + The vesture, that will shine so, the great day. + +By us the eternal edicts are not broken; + Since this one lives, and Minos binds not me; + But of that circle I, where are the chaste + +Eyes of thy Marcia, who in looks still prays thee, + O holy breast, to hold her as thine own; + For her love, then, incline thyself to us. + +Permit us through thy sevenfold realm to go; + I will take back this grace from thee to her, + If to be mentioned there below thou deignest.” + +“Marcia so pleasing was unto mine eyes + While I was on the other side,” then said he, + “That every grace she wished of me I granted; + +Now that she dwells beyond the evil river, + She can no longer move me, by that law + Which, when I issued forth from there, was made. + +But if a Lady of Heaven do move and rule thee, + As thou dost say, no flattery is needful; + Let it suffice thee that for her thou ask me. + +Go, then, and see thou gird this one about + With a smooth rush, and that thou wash his face, + So that thou cleanse away all stain therefrom, + +For ’twere not fitting that the eye o’ercast + By any mist should go before the first + Angel, who is of those of Paradise. + +This little island round about its base + Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it, + Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze; + +No other plant that putteth forth the leaf, + Or that doth indurate, can there have life, + Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks. + +Thereafter be not this way your return; + The sun, which now is rising, will direct you + To take the mount by easier ascent.” + +With this he vanished; and I raised me up + Without a word, and wholly drew myself + Unto my Guide, and turned mine eyes to him. + +And he began: “Son, follow thou my steps; + Let us turn back, for on this side declines + The plain unto its lower boundaries.” + +The dawn was vanquishing the matin hour + Which fled before it, so that from afar + I recognised the trembling of the sea. + +Along the solitary plain we went + As one who unto the lost road returns, + And till he finds it seems to go in vain. + +As soon as we were come to where the dew + Fights with the sun, and, being in a part + Where shadow falls, little evaporates, + +Both of his hands upon the grass outspread + In gentle manner did my Master place; + Whence I, who of his action was aware, + +Extended unto him my tearful cheeks; + There did he make in me uncovered wholly + That hue which Hell had covered up in me. + +Then came we down upon the desert shore + Which never yet saw navigate its waters + Any that afterward had known return. + +There he begirt me as the other pleased; + O marvellous! for even as he culled + The humble plant, such it sprang up again + +Suddenly there where he uprooted it. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto II + + +Already had the sun the horizon reached + Whose circle of meridian covers o’er + Jerusalem with its most lofty point, + +And night that opposite to him revolves + Was issuing forth from Ganges with the Scales + That fall from out her hand when she exceedeth; + +So that the white and the vermilion cheeks + Of beautiful Aurora, where I was, + By too great age were changing into orange. + +We still were on the border of the sea, + Like people who are thinking of their road, + Who go in heart and with the body stay; + +And lo! as when, upon the approach of morning, + Through the gross vapours Mars grows fiery red + Down in the West upon the ocean floor, + +Appeared to me—may I again behold it!— + A light along the sea so swiftly coming, + Its motion by no flight of wing is equalled; + +From which when I a little had withdrawn + Mine eyes, that I might question my Conductor, + Again I saw it brighter grown and larger. + +Then on each side of it appeared to me + I knew not what of white, and underneath it + Little by little there came forth another. + +My Master yet had uttered not a word + While the first whiteness into wings unfolded; + But when he clearly recognised the pilot, + +He cried: “Make haste, make haste to bow the knee! + Behold the Angel of God! fold thou thy hands! + Henceforward shalt thou see such officers! + +See how he scorneth human arguments, + So that nor oar he wants, nor other sail + Than his own wings, between so distant shores. + +See how he holds them pointed up to heaven, + Fanning the air with the eternal pinions, + That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!” + +Then as still nearer and more near us came + The Bird Divine, more radiant he appeared, + So that near by the eye could not endure him, + +But down I cast it; and he came to shore + With a small vessel, very swift and light, + So that the water swallowed naught thereof. + +Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot; + Beatitude seemed written in his face, + And more than a hundred spirits sat within. + +“In exitu Israel de Aegypto!” + They chanted all together in one voice, + With whatso in that psalm is after written. + +Then made he sign of holy rood upon them, + Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore, + And he departed swiftly as he came. + +The throng which still remained there unfamiliar + Seemed with the place, all round about them gazing, + As one who in new matters makes essay. + +On every side was darting forth the day. + The sun, who had with his resplendent shafts + From the mid-heaven chased forth the Capricorn, + +When the new people lifted up their faces + Towards us, saying to us: “If ye know, + Show us the way to go unto the mountain.” + +And answer made Virgilius: “Ye believe + Perchance that we have knowledge of this place, + But we are strangers even as yourselves. + +Just now we came, a little while before you, + Another way, which was so rough and steep, + That mounting will henceforth seem sport to us.” + +The souls who had, from seeing me draw breath, + Become aware that I was still alive, + Pallid in their astonishment became; + +And as to messenger who bears the olive + The people throng to listen to the news, + And no one shows himself afraid of crowding, + +So at the sight of me stood motionless + Those fortunate spirits, all of them, as if + Oblivious to go and make them fair. + +One from among them saw I coming forward, + As to embrace me, with such great affection, + That it incited me to do the like. + +O empty shadows, save in aspect only! + Three times behind it did I clasp my hands, + As oft returned with them to my own breast! + +I think with wonder I depicted me; + Whereat the shadow smiled and backward drew; + And I, pursuing it, pressed farther forward. + +Gently it said that I should stay my steps; + Then knew I who it was, and I entreated + That it would stop awhile to speak with me. + +It made reply to me: “Even as I loved thee + In mortal body, so I love thee free; + Therefore I stop; but wherefore goest thou?” + +“My own Casella! to return once more + There where I am, I make this journey,” said I; + “But how from thee has so much time be taken?” + +And he to me: “No outrage has been done me, + If he who takes both when and whom he pleases + Has many times denied to me this passage, + +For of a righteous will his own is made. + He, sooth to say, for three months past has taken + Whoever wished to enter with all peace; + +Whence I, who now had turned unto that shore + Where salt the waters of the Tiber grow, + Benignantly by him have been received. + +Unto that outlet now his wing is pointed, + Because for evermore assemble there + Those who tow’rds Acheron do not descend.” + +And I: “If some new law take not from thee + Memory or practice of the song of love, + Which used to quiet in me all my longings, + +Thee may it please to comfort therewithal + Somewhat this soul of mine, that with its body + Hitherward coming is so much distressed.” + +“Love, that within my mind discourses with me,” + Forthwith began he so melodiously, + The melody within me still is sounding. + +My Master, and myself, and all that people + Which with him were, appeared as satisfied + As if naught else might touch the mind of any. + +We all of us were moveless and attentive + Unto his notes; and lo! the grave old man, + Exclaiming: “What is this, ye laggard spirits? + +What negligence, what standing still is this? + Run to the mountain to strip off the slough, + That lets not God be manifest to you.” + +Even as when, collecting grain or tares, + The doves, together at their pasture met, + Quiet, nor showing their accustomed pride, + +If aught appear of which they are afraid, + Upon a sudden leave their food alone, + Because they are assailed by greater care; + +So that fresh company did I behold + The song relinquish, and go tow’rds the hill, + As one who goes, and knows not whitherward; + +Nor was our own departure less in haste. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto III + + +Inasmuch as the instantaneous flight + Had scattered them asunder o’er the plain, + Turned to the mountain whither reason spurs us, + +I pressed me close unto my faithful comrade, + And how without him had I kept my course? + Who would have led me up along the mountain? + +He seemed to me within himself remorseful; + O noble conscience, and without a stain, + How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee! + +After his feet had laid aside the haste + Which mars the dignity of every act, + My mind, that hitherto had been restrained, + +Let loose its faculties as if delighted, + And I my sight directed to the hill + That highest tow’rds the heaven uplifts itself. + +The sun, that in our rear was flaming red, + Was broken in front of me into the figure + Which had in me the stoppage of its rays; + +Unto one side I turned me, with the fear + Of being left alone, when I beheld + Only in front of me the ground obscured. + +“Why dost thou still mistrust?” my Comforter + Began to say to me turned wholly round; + “Dost thou not think me with thee, and that I guide thee? + +’Tis evening there already where is buried + The body within which I cast a shadow; + ’Tis from Brundusium ta’en, and Naples has it. + +Now if in front of me no shadow fall, + Marvel not at it more than at the heavens, + Because one ray impedeth not another + +To suffer torments, both of cold and heat, + Bodies like this that Power provides, which wills + That how it works be not unveiled to us. + +Insane is he who hopeth that our reason + Can traverse the illimitable way, + Which the one Substance in three Persons follows! + +Mortals, remain contented at the ‘Quia;’ + For if ye had been able to see all, + No need there were for Mary to give birth; + +And ye have seen desiring without fruit, + Those whose desire would have been quieted, + Which evermore is given them for a grief. + +I speak of Aristotle and of Plato, + And many others;”—and here bowed his head, + And more he said not, and remained disturbed. + +We came meanwhile unto the mountain’s foot; + There so precipitate we found the rock, + That nimble legs would there have been in vain. + +’Twixt Lerici and Turbia, the most desert, + The most secluded pathway is a stair + Easy and open, if compared with that. + +“Who knoweth now upon which hand the hill + Slopes down,” my Master said, his footsteps staying, + “So that who goeth without wings may mount?” + +And while he held his eyes upon the ground + Examining the nature of the path, + And I was looking up around the rock, + +On the left hand appeared to me a throng + Of souls, that moved their feet in our direction, + And did not seem to move, they came so slowly. + +“Lift up thine eyes,” I to the Master said; + “Behold, on this side, who will give us counsel, + If thou of thine own self can have it not.” + +Then he looked at me, and with frank expression + Replied: “Let us go there, for they come slowly, + And thou be steadfast in thy hope, sweet son.” + +Still was that people as far off from us, + After a thousand steps of ours I say, + As a good thrower with his hand would reach, + +When they all crowded unto the hard masses + Of the high bank, and motionless stood and close, + As he stands still to look who goes in doubt. + +“O happy dead! O spirits elect already!” + Virgilius made beginning, “by that peace + Which I believe is waiting for you all, + +Tell us upon what side the mountain slopes, + So that the going up be possible, + For to lose time irks him most who most knows.” + +As sheep come issuing forth from out the fold + By ones and twos and threes, and the others stand + Timidly, holding down their eyes and nostrils, + +And what the foremost does the others do, + Huddling themselves against her, if she stop, + Simple and quiet and the wherefore know not; + +So moving to approach us thereupon + I saw the leader of that fortunate flock, + Modest in face and dignified in gait. + +As soon as those in the advance saw broken + The light upon the ground at my right side, + So that from me the shadow reached the rock, + +They stopped, and backward drew themselves somewhat; + And all the others, who came after them, + Not knowing why nor wherefore, did the same. + +“Without your asking, I confess to you + This is a human body which you see, + Whereby the sunshine on the ground is cleft. + +Marvel ye not thereat, but be persuaded + That not without a power which comes from Heaven + Doth he endeavour to surmount this wall.” + +The Master thus; and said those worthy people: + “Return ye then, and enter in before us,” + Making a signal with the back o’ the hand + +And one of them began: “Whoe’er thou art, + Thus going turn thine eyes, consider well + If e’er thou saw me in the other world.” + +I turned me tow’rds him, and looked at him closely; + Blond was he, beautiful, and of noble aspect, + But one of his eyebrows had a blow divided. + +When with humility I had disclaimed + E’er having seen him, “Now behold!” he said, + And showed me high upon his breast a wound. + +Then said he with a smile: “I am Manfredi, + The grandson of the Empress Costanza; + Therefore, when thou returnest, I beseech thee + +Go to my daughter beautiful, the mother + Of Sicily’s honour and of Aragon’s, + And the truth tell her, if aught else be told. + +After I had my body lacerated + By these two mortal stabs, I gave myself + Weeping to Him, who willingly doth pardon. + +Horrible my iniquities had been; + But Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms, + That it receives whatever turns to it. + +Had but Cosenza’s pastor, who in chase + Of me was sent by Clement at that time, + In God read understandingly this page, + +The bones of my dead body still would be + At the bridge-head, near unto Benevento, + Under the safeguard of the heavy cairn. + +Now the rain bathes and moveth them the wind, + Beyond the realm, almost beside the Verde, + Where he transported them with tapers quenched. + +By malison of theirs is not so lost + Eternal Love, that it cannot return, + So long as hope has anything of green. + +True is it, who in contumacy dies + Of Holy Church, though penitent at last, + Must wait upon the outside this bank + +Thirty times told the time that he has been + In his presumption, unless such decree + Shorter by means of righteous prayers become. + +See now if thou hast power to make me happy, + By making known unto my good Costanza + How thou hast seen me, and this ban beside, + +For those on earth can much advance us here.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto IV + + +Whenever by delight or else by pain, + That seizes any faculty of ours, + Wholly to that the soul collects itself, + +It seemeth that no other power it heeds; + And this against that error is which thinks + One soul above another kindles in us. + +And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen + Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it, + Time passes on, and we perceive it not, + +Because one faculty is that which listens, + And other that which the soul keeps entire; + This is as if in bonds, and that is free. + +Of this I had experience positive + In hearing and in gazing at that spirit; + For fifty full degrees uprisen was + +The sun, and I had not perceived it, when + We came to where those souls with one accord + Cried out unto us: “Here is what you ask.” + +A greater opening ofttimes hedges up + With but a little forkful of his thorns + The villager, what time the grape imbrowns, + +Than was the passage-way through which ascended + Only my Leader and myself behind him, + After that company departed from us. + +One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli, + And mounts the summit of Bismantova, + With feet alone; but here one needs must fly; + +With the swift pinions and the plumes I say + Of great desire, conducted after him + Who gave me hope, and made a light for me. + +We mounted upward through the rifted rock, + And on each side the border pressed upon us, + And feet and hands the ground beneath required. + +When we were come upon the upper rim + Of the high bank, out on the open slope, + “My Master,” said I, “what way shall we take?” + +And he to me: “No step of thine descend; + Still up the mount behind me win thy way, + Till some sage escort shall appear to us.” + +The summit was so high it vanquished sight, + And the hillside precipitous far more + Than line from middle quadrant to the centre. + +Spent with fatigue was I, when I began: + “O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold + How I remain alone, unless thou stay!” + +“O son,” he said, “up yonder drag thyself,” + Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher, + Which on that side encircles all the hill. + +These words of his so spurred me on, that I + Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up, + Until the circle was beneath my feet. + +Thereon ourselves we seated both of us + Turned to the East, from which we had ascended, + For all men are delighted to look back. + +To the low shores mine eyes I first directed, + Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered + That on the left hand we were smitten by it. + +The Poet well perceived that I was wholly + Bewildered at the chariot of the light, + Where ’twixt us and the Aquilon it entered. + +Whereon he said to me: “If Castor and Pollux + Were in the company of yonder mirror, + That up and down conducteth with its light, + +Thou wouldst behold the zodiac’s jagged wheel + Revolving still more near unto the Bears, + Unless it swerved aside from its old track. + +How that may be wouldst thou have power to think, + Collected in thyself, imagine Zion + Together with this mount on earth to stand, + +So that they both one sole horizon have, + And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road + Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive, + +Thou’lt see how of necessity must pass + This on one side, when that upon the other, + If thine intelligence right clearly heed.” + +“Truly, my Master,” said I, “never yet + Saw I so clearly as I now discern, + There where my wit appeared incompetent, + +That the mid-circle of supernal motion, + Which in some art is the Equator called, + And aye remains between the Sun and Winter, + +For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence + Tow’rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews + Beheld it tow’rds the region of the heat. + +But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn + How far we have to go; for the hill rises + Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise.” + +And he to me: “This mount is such, that ever + At the beginning down below ’tis tiresome, + And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts. + +Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, + That going up shall be to thee as easy + As going down the current in a boat, + +Then at this pathway’s ending thou wilt be; + There to repose thy panting breath expect; + No more I answer; and this I know for true.” + +And as he finished uttering these words, + A voice close by us sounded: “Peradventure + Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that.” + +At sound thereof each one of us turned round, + And saw upon the left hand a great rock, + Which neither I nor he before had noticed. + +Thither we drew; and there were persons there + Who in the shadow stood behind the rock, + As one through indolence is wont to stand. + +And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued, + Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced, + Holding his face low down between them bowed. + +“O my sweet Lord,” I said, “do turn thine eye + On him who shows himself more negligent + Then even Sloth herself his sister were.” + +Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed, + Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh, + And said: “Now go thou up, for thou art valiant.” + +Then knew I who he was; and the distress, + That still a little did my breathing quicken, + My going to him hindered not; and after + +I came to him he hardly raised his head, + Saying: “Hast thou seen clearly how the sun + O’er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?” + +His sluggish attitude and his curt words + A little unto laughter moved my lips; + Then I began: “Belacqua, I grieve not + +For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated + In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort? + Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?” + +And he: “O brother, what’s the use of climbing? + Since to my torment would not let me go + The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate. + +First heaven must needs so long revolve me round + Outside thereof, as in my life it did, + Since the good sighs I to the end postponed, + +Unless, e’er that, some prayer may bring me aid + Which rises from a heart that lives in grace; + What profit others that in heaven are heard not?” + +Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting, + And saying: “Come now; see the sun has touched + Meridian, and from the shore the night + +Covers already with her foot Morocco.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto V + + +I had already from those shades departed, + And followed in the footsteps of my Guide, + When from behind, pointing his finger at me, + +One shouted: “See, it seems as if shone not + The sunshine on the left of him below, + And like one living seems he to conduct him.” + +Mine eyes I turned at utterance of these words, + And saw them watching with astonishment + But me, but me, and the light which was broken! + +“Why doth thy mind so occupy itself,” + The Master said, “that thou thy pace dost slacken? + What matters it to thee what here is whispered? + +Come after me, and let the people talk; + Stand like a steadfast tower, that never wags + Its top for all the blowing of the winds; + +For evermore the man in whom is springing + Thought upon thought, removes from him the mark, + Because the force of one the other weakens.” + +What could I say in answer but “I come”? + I said it somewhat with that colour tinged + Which makes a man of pardon sometimes worthy. + +Meanwhile along the mountain-side across + Came people in advance of us a little, + Singing the Miserere verse by verse. + +When they became aware I gave no place + For passage of the sunshine through my body, + They changed their song into a long, hoarse “Oh!” + +And two of them, in form of messengers, + Ran forth to meet us, and demanded of us, + “Of your condition make us cognisant.” + +And said my Master: “Ye can go your way + And carry back again to those who sent you, + That this one’s body is of very flesh. + +If they stood still because they saw his shadow, + As I suppose, enough is answered them; + Him let them honour, it may profit them.” + +Vapours enkindled saw I ne’er so swiftly + At early nightfall cleave the air serene, + Nor, at the set of sun, the clouds of August, + +But upward they returned in briefer time, + And, on arriving, with the others wheeled + Tow’rds us, like troops that run without a rein. + +“This folk that presses unto us is great, + And cometh to implore thee,” said the Poet; + “So still go onward, and in going listen.” + +“O soul that goest to beatitude + With the same members wherewith thou wast born,” + Shouting they came, “a little stay thy steps, + +Look, if thou e’er hast any of us seen, + So that o’er yonder thou bear news of him; + Ah, why dost thou go on? Ah, why not stay? + +Long since we all were slain by violence, + And sinners even to the latest hour; + Then did a light from heaven admonish us, + +So that, both penitent and pardoning, forth + From life we issued reconciled to God, + Who with desire to see Him stirs our hearts.” + +And I: “Although I gaze into your faces, + No one I recognize; but if may please you + Aught I have power to do, ye well-born spirits, + +Speak ye, and I will do it, by that peace + Which, following the feet of such a Guide, + From world to world makes itself sought by me.” + +And one began: “Each one has confidence + In thy good offices without an oath, + Unless the I cannot cut off the I will; + +Whence I, who speak alone before the others, + Pray thee, if ever thou dost see the land + That ’twixt Romagna lies and that of Charles, + +Thou be so courteous to me of thy prayers + In Fano, that they pray for me devoutly, + That I may purge away my grave offences. + +From thence was I; but the deep wounds, through which + Issued the blood wherein I had my seat, + Were dealt me in bosom of the Antenori, + +There where I thought to be the most secure; + ’Twas he of Este had it done, who held me + In hatred far beyond what justice willed. + +But if towards the Mira I had fled, + When I was overtaken at Oriaco, + I still should be o’er yonder where men breathe. + +I ran to the lagoon, and reeds and mire + Did so entangle me I fell, and saw there + A lake made from my veins upon the ground.” + +Then said another: “Ah, be that desire + Fulfilled that draws thee to the lofty mountain, + As thou with pious pity aidest mine. + +I was of Montefeltro, and am Buonconte; + Giovanna, nor none other cares for me; + Hence among these I go with downcast front.” + +And I to him: “What violence or what chance + Led thee astray so far from Campaldino, + That never has thy sepulture been known?” + +“Oh,” he replied, “at Casentino’s foot + A river crosses named Archiano, born + Above the Hermitage in Apennine. + +There where the name thereof becometh void + Did I arrive, pierced through and through the throat, + Fleeing on foot, and bloodying the plain; + +There my sight lost I, and my utterance + Ceased in the name of Mary, and thereat + I fell, and tenantless my flesh remained. + +Truth will I speak, repeat it to the living; + God’s Angel took me up, and he of hell + Shouted: ‘O thou from heaven, why dost thou rob me? + +Thou bearest away the eternal part of him, + For one poor little tear, that takes him from me; + But with the rest I’ll deal in other fashion!’ + +Well knowest thou how in the air is gathered + That humid vapour which to water turns, + Soon as it rises where the cold doth grasp it. + +He joined that evil will, which aye seeks evil, + To intellect, and moved the mist and wind + By means of power, which his own nature gave; + +Thereafter, when the day was spent, the valley + From Pratomagno to the great yoke covered + With fog, and made the heaven above intent, + +So that the pregnant air to water changed; + Down fell the rain, and to the gullies came + Whate’er of it earth tolerated not; + +And as it mingled with the mighty torrents, + Towards the royal river with such speed + It headlong rushed, that nothing held it back. + +My frozen body near unto its outlet + The robust Archian found, and into Arno + Thrust it, and loosened from my breast the cross + +I made of me, when agony o’ercame me; + It rolled me on the banks and on the bottom, + Then with its booty covered and begirt me.” + +“Ah, when thou hast returned unto the world, + And rested thee from thy long journeying,” + After the second followed the third spirit, + +“Do thou remember me who am the Pia; + Siena made me, unmade me Maremma; + He knoweth it, who had encircled first, + +Espousing me, my finger with his gem.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto VI + + +Whene’er is broken up the game of Zara, + He who has lost remains behind despondent, + The throws repeating, and in sadness learns; + +The people with the other all depart; + One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him, + And at his side one brings himself to mind; + +He pauses not, and this and that one hears; + They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches, + And from the throng he thus defends himself. + +Even such was I in that dense multitude, + Turning to them this way and that my face, + And, promising, I freed myself therefrom. + +There was the Aretine, who from the arms + Untamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death, + And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned. + +There was imploring with his hands outstretched + Frederick Novello, and that one of Pisa + Who made the good Marzucco seem so strong. + +I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided + By hatred and by envy from its body, + As it declared, and not for crime committed, + +Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provide + While still on earth the Lady of Brabant, + So that for this she be of no worse flock! + +As soon as I was free from all those shades + Who only prayed that some one else may pray, + So as to hasten their becoming holy, + +Began I: “It appears that thou deniest, + O light of mine, expressly in some text, + That orison can bend decree of Heaven; + +And ne’ertheless these people pray for this. + Might then their expectation bootless be? + Or is to me thy saying not quite clear?” + +And he to me: “My writing is explicit, + And not fallacious is the hope of these, + If with sane intellect ’tis well regarded; + +For top of judgment doth not vail itself, + Because the fire of love fulfils at once + What he must satisfy who here installs him. + +And there, where I affirmed that proposition, + Defect was not amended by a prayer, + Because the prayer from God was separate. + +Verily, in so deep a questioning + Do not decide, unless she tell it thee, + Who light ’twixt truth and intellect shall be. + +I know not if thou understand; I speak + Of Beatrice; her shalt thou see above, + Smiling and happy, on this mountain’s top.” + +And I: “Good Leader, let us make more haste, + For I no longer tire me as before; + And see, e’en now the hill a shadow casts.” + +“We will go forward with this day” he answered, + “As far as now is possible for us; + But otherwise the fact is than thou thinkest. + +Ere thou art up there, thou shalt see return + Him, who now hides himself behind the hill, + So that thou dost not interrupt his rays. + +But yonder there behold! a soul that stationed + All, all alone is looking hitherward; + It will point out to us the quickest way.” + +We came up unto it; O Lombard soul, + How lofty and disdainful thou didst bear thee, + And grand and slow in moving of thine eyes! + +Nothing whatever did it say to us, + But let us go our way, eying us only + After the manner of a couchant lion; + +Still near to it Virgilius drew, entreating + That it would point us out the best ascent; + And it replied not unto his demand, + +But of our native land and of our life + It questioned us; and the sweet Guide began: + “Mantua,”—and the shade, all in itself recluse, + +Rose tow’rds him from the place where first it was, + Saying: “O Mantuan, I am Sordello + Of thine own land!” and one embraced the other. + +Ah! servile Italy, grief’s hostelry! + A ship without a pilot in great tempest! + No Lady thou of Provinces, but brothel! + +That noble soul was so impatient, only + At the sweet sound of his own native land, + To make its citizen glad welcome there; + +And now within thee are not without war + Thy living ones, and one doth gnaw the other + Of those whom one wall and one fosse shut in! + +Search, wretched one, all round about the shores + Thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom, + If any part of thee enjoyeth peace! + +What boots it, that for thee Justinian + The bridle mend, if empty be the saddle? + Withouten this the shame would be the less. + +Ah! people, thou that oughtest to be devout, + And to let Caesar sit upon the saddle, + If well thou hearest what God teacheth thee, + +Behold how fell this wild beast has become, + Being no longer by the spur corrected, + Since thou hast laid thy hand upon the bridle. + +O German Albert! who abandonest + Her that has grown recalcitrant and savage, + And oughtest to bestride her saddle-bow, + +May a just judgment from the stars down fall + Upon thy blood, and be it new and open, + That thy successor may have fear thereof; + +Because thy father and thyself have suffered, + By greed of those transalpine lands distrained, + The garden of the empire to be waste. + +Come and behold Montecchi and Cappelletti, + Monaldi and Fillippeschi, careless man! + Those sad already, and these doubt-depressed! + +Come, cruel one! come and behold the oppression + Of thy nobility, and cure their wounds, + And thou shalt see how safe is Santafiore! + +Come and behold thy Rome, that is lamenting, + Widowed, alone, and day and night exclaims, + “My Caesar, why hast thou forsaken me?” + +Come and behold how loving are the people; + And if for us no pity moveth thee, + Come and be made ashamed of thy renown! + +And if it lawful be, O Jove Supreme! + Who upon earth for us wast crucified, + Are thy just eyes averted otherwhere? + +Or preparation is ’t, that, in the abyss + Of thine own counsel, for some good thou makest + From our perception utterly cut off? + +For all the towns of Italy are full + Of tyrants, and becometh a Marcellus + Each peasant churl who plays the partisan! + +My Florence! well mayst thou contented be + With this digression, which concerns thee not, + Thanks to thy people who such forethought take! + +Many at heart have justice, but shoot slowly, + That unadvised they come not to the bow, + But on their very lips thy people have it! + +Many refuse to bear the common burden; + But thy solicitous people answereth + Without being asked, and crieth: “I submit.” + +Now be thou joyful, for thou hast good reason; + Thou affluent, thou in peace, thou full of wisdom! + If I speak true, the event conceals it not. + +Athens and Lacedaemon, they who made + The ancient laws, and were so civilized, + Made towards living well a little sign + +Compared with thee, who makest such fine-spun + Provisions, that to middle of November + Reaches not what thou in October spinnest. + +How oft, within the time of thy remembrance, + Laws, money, offices, and usages + Hast thou remodelled, and renewed thy members? + +And if thou mind thee well, and see the light, + Thou shalt behold thyself like a sick woman, + Who cannot find repose upon her down, + +But by her tossing wardeth off her pain. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto VII + + +After the gracious and glad salutations + Had three and four times been reiterated, + Sordello backward drew and said, “Who are you?” + +“Or ever to this mountain were directed + The souls deserving to ascend to God, + My bones were buried by Octavian. + +I am Virgilius; and for no crime else + Did I lose heaven, than for not having faith;” + In this wise then my Leader made reply. + +As one who suddenly before him sees + Something whereat he marvels, who believes + And yet does not, saying, “It is! it is not!” + +So he appeared; and then bowed down his brow, + And with humility returned towards him, + And, where inferiors embrace, embraced him. + +“O glory of the Latians, thou,” he said, + “Through whom our language showed what it could do + O pride eternal of the place I came from, + +What merit or what grace to me reveals thee? + If I to hear thy words be worthy, tell me + If thou dost come from Hell, and from what cloister.” + +“Through all the circles of the doleful realm,” + Responded he, “have I come hitherward; + Heaven’s power impelled me, and with that I come. + +I by not doing, not by doing, lost + The sight of that high sun which thou desirest, + And which too late by me was recognized. + +A place there is below not sad with torments, + But darkness only, where the lamentations + Have not the sound of wailing, but are sighs. + +There dwell I with the little innocents + Snatched by the teeth of Death, or ever they + Were from our human sinfulness exempt. + +There dwell I among those who the three saintly + Virtues did not put on, and without vice + The others knew and followed all of them. + +But if thou know and can, some indication + Give us by which we may the sooner come + Where Purgatory has its right beginning.” + +He answered: “No fixed place has been assigned us; + ’Tis lawful for me to go up and round; + So far as I can go, as guide I join thee. + +But see already how the day declines, + And to go up by night we are not able; + Therefore ’tis well to think of some fair sojourn. + +Souls are there on the right hand here withdrawn; + If thou permit me I will lead thee to them, + And thou shalt know them not without delight.” + +“How is this?” was the answer; “should one wish + To mount by night would he prevented be + By others? or mayhap would not have power?” + +And on the ground the good Sordello drew + His finger, saying, “See, this line alone + Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone; + +Not that aught else would hindrance give, however, + To going up, save the nocturnal darkness; + This with the want of power the will perplexes. + +We might indeed therewith return below, + And, wandering, walk the hill-side round about, + While the horizon holds the day imprisoned.” + +Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said: + “Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest + That we can take delight in tarrying.” + +Little had we withdrawn us from that place, + When I perceived the mount was hollowed out + In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed. + +“Thitherward,” said that shade, “will we repair, + Where of itself the hill-side makes a lap, + And there for the new day will we await.” + +’Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path + Which led us to the margin of that dell, + Where dies the border more than half away. + +Gold and fine silver, and scarlet and pearl-white, + The Indian wood resplendent and serene, + Fresh emerald the moment it is broken, + +By herbage and by flowers within that hollow + Planted, each one in colour would be vanquished, + As by its greater vanquished is the less. + +Nor in that place had nature painted only, + But of the sweetness of a thousand odours + Made there a mingled fragrance and unknown. + +“Salve Regina,” on the green and flowers + There seated, singing, spirits I beheld, + Which were not visible outside the valley. + +“Before the scanty sun now seeks his nest,” + Began the Mantuan who had led us thither, + “Among them do not wish me to conduct you. + +Better from off this ledge the acts and faces + Of all of them will you discriminate, + Than in the plain below received among them. + +He who sits highest, and the semblance bears + Of having what he should have done neglected, + And to the others’ song moves not his lips, + +Rudolph the Emperor was, who had the power + To heal the wounds that Italy have slain, + So that through others slowly she revives. + +The other, who in look doth comfort him, + Governed the region where the water springs, + The Moldau bears the Elbe, and Elbe the sea. + +His name was Ottocar; and in swaddling-clothes + Far better he than bearded Winceslaus + His son, who feeds in luxury and ease. + +And the small-nosed, who close in council seems + With him that has an aspect so benign, + Died fleeing and disflowering the lily; + +Look there, how he is beating at his breast! + Behold the other one, who for his cheek + Sighing has made of his own palm a bed; + +Father and father-in-law of France’s Pest + Are they, and know his vicious life and lewd, + And hence proceeds the grief that so doth pierce them. + +He who appears so stalwart, and chimes in, + Singing, with that one of the manly nose, + The cord of every valour wore begirt; + +And if as King had after him remained + The stripling who in rear of him is sitting, + Well had the valour passed from vase to vase, + +Which cannot of the other heirs be said. + Frederick and Jacomo possess the realms, + But none the better heritage possesses. + +Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches + The probity of man; and this He wills + Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him. + +Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no less + Than to the other, Pier, who with him sings; + Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already + +The plant is as inferior to its seed, + As more than Beatrice and Margaret + Costanza boasteth of her husband still. + +Behold the monarch of the simple life, + Harry of England, sitting there alone; + He in his branches has a better issue. + +He who the lowest on the ground among them + Sits looking upward, is the Marquis William, + For whose sake Alessandria and her war + +Make Monferrat and Canavese weep.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto VIII + + +’Twas now the hour that turneth back desire + In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart, + The day they’ve said to their sweet friends farewell, + +And the new pilgrim penetrates with love, + If he doth hear from far away a bell + That seemeth to deplore the dying day, + +When I began to make of no avail + My hearing, and to watch one of the souls + Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand. + +It joined and lifted upward both its palms, + Fixing its eyes upon the orient, + As if it said to God, “Naught else I care for.” + +“Te lucis ante” so devoutly issued + Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes, + It made me issue forth from my own mind. + +And then the others, sweetly and devoutly, + Accompanied it through all the hymn entire, + Having their eyes on the supernal wheels. + +Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth, + For now indeed so subtile is the veil, + Surely to penetrate within is easy. + +I saw that army of the gentle-born + Thereafterward in silence upward gaze, + As if in expectation, pale and humble; + +And from on high come forth and down descend, + I saw two Angels with two flaming swords, + Truncated and deprived of their points. + +Green as the little leaflets just now born + Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions + Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind. + +One just above us came to take his station, + And one descended to the opposite bank, + So that the people were contained between them. + +Clearly in them discerned I the blond head; + But in their faces was the eye bewildered, + As faculty confounded by excess. + +“From Mary’s bosom both of them have come,” + Sordello said, “as guardians of the valley + Against the serpent, that will come anon.” + +Whereupon I, who knew not by what road, + Turned round about, and closely drew myself, + Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders. + +And once again Sordello: “Now descend we + ’Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them; + Right pleasant will it be for them to see you.” + +Only three steps I think that I descended, + And was below, and saw one who was looking + Only at me, as if he fain would know me. + +Already now the air was growing dark, + But not so that between his eyes and mine + It did not show what it before locked up. + +Tow’rds me he moved, and I tow’rds him did move; + Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted, + When I beheld thee not among the damned! + +No greeting fair was left unsaid between us; + Then asked he: “How long is it since thou camest + O’er the far waters to the mountain’s foot?” + +“Oh!” said I to him, “through the dismal places + I came this morn; and am in the first life, + Albeit the other, going thus, I gain.” + +And on the instant my reply was heard, + He and Sordello both shrank back from me, + Like people who are suddenly bewildered. + +One to Virgilius, and the other turned + To one who sat there, crying, “Up, Currado! + Come and behold what God in grace has willed!” + +Then, turned to me: “By that especial grace + Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals + His own first wherefore, that it has no ford, + +When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide, + Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me, + Where answer to the innocent is made. + +I do not think her mother loves me more, + Since she has laid aside her wimple white, + Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again. + +Through her full easily is comprehended + How long in woman lasts the fire of love, + If eye or touch do not relight it often. + +So fair a hatchment will not make for her + The Viper marshalling the Milanese + A-field, as would have made Gallura’s Cock.” + +In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed + Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal + Which measurably burneth in the heart. + +My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven, + Still to that point where slowest are the stars, + Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle. + +And my Conductor: “Son, what dost thou gaze at + Up there?” And I to him: “At those three torches + With which this hither pole is all on fire.” + +And he to me: “The four resplendent stars + Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low, + And these have mounted up to where those were.” + +As he was speaking, to himself Sordello + Drew him, and said, “Lo there our Adversary!” + And pointed with his finger to look thither. + +Upon the side on which the little valley + No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance + The same which gave to Eve the bitter food. + +’Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak, + Turning at times its head about, and licking + Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself. + +I did not see, and therefore cannot say + How the celestial falcons ’gan to move, + But well I saw that they were both in motion. + +Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings, + The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled, + Up to their stations flying back alike. + +The shade that to the Judge had near approached + When he had called, throughout that whole assault + Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me. + +“So may the light that leadeth thee on high + Find in thine own free-will as much of wax + As needful is up to the highest azure,” + +Began it, “if some true intelligence + Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood + Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there. + +Currado Malaspina was I called; + I’m not the elder, but from him descended; + To mine I bore the love which here refineth.” + +“O,” said I unto him, “through your domains + I never passed, but where is there a dwelling + Throughout all Europe, where they are not known? + +That fame, which doeth honour to your house, + Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land, + So that he knows of them who ne’er was there. + +And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you + Your honoured family in naught abates + The glory of the purse and of the sword. + +It is so privileged by use and nature, + That though a guilty head misguide the world, + Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way.” + +And he: “Now go; for the sun shall not lie + Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram + With all his four feet covers and bestrides, + +Before that such a courteous opinion + Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed + With greater nails than of another’s speech, + +Unless the course of justice standeth still.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto IX + + +The concubine of old Tithonus now + Gleamed white upon the eastern balcony, + Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour; + +With gems her forehead all relucent was, + Set in the shape of that cold animal + Which with its tail doth smite amain the nations, + +And of the steps, with which she mounts, the Night + Had taken two in that place where we were, + And now the third was bending down its wings; + +When I, who something had of Adam in me, + Vanquished by sleep, upon the grass reclined, + There were all five of us already sat. + +Just at the hour when her sad lay begins + The little swallow, near unto the morning, + Perchance in memory of her former woes, + +And when the mind of man, a wanderer + More from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned, + Almost prophetic in its visions is, + +In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspended + An eagle in the sky, with plumes of gold, + With wings wide open, and intent to stoop, + +And this, it seemed to me, was where had been + By Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned, + When to the high consistory he was rapt. + +I thought within myself, perchance he strikes + From habit only here, and from elsewhere + Disdains to bear up any in his feet. + +Then wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me, + Terrible as the lightning he descended, + And snatched me upward even to the fire. + +Therein it seemed that he and I were burning, + And the imagined fire did scorch me so, + That of necessity my sleep was broken. + +Not otherwise Achilles started up, + Around him turning his awakened eyes, + And knowing not the place in which he was, + +What time from Chiron stealthily his mother + Carried him sleeping in her arms to Scyros, + Wherefrom the Greeks withdrew him afterwards, + +Than I upstarted, when from off my face + Sleep fled away; and pallid I became, + As doth the man who freezes with affright. + +Only my Comforter was at my side, + And now the sun was more than two hours high, + And turned towards the sea-shore was my face. + +“Be not intimidated,” said my Lord, + “Be reassured, for all is well with us; + Do not restrain, but put forth all thy strength. + +Thou hast at length arrived at Purgatory; + See there the cliff that closes it around; + See there the entrance, where it seems disjoined. + +Whilom at dawn, which doth precede the day, + When inwardly thy spirit was asleep + Upon the flowers that deck the land below, + +There came a Lady and said: ‘I am Lucia; + Let me take this one up, who is asleep; + So will I make his journey easier for him.’ + +Sordello and the other noble shapes + Remained; she took thee, and, as day grew bright, + Upward she came, and I upon her footsteps. + +She laid thee here; and first her beauteous eyes + That open entrance pointed out to me; + Then she and sleep together went away.” + +In guise of one whose doubts are reassured, + And who to confidence his fear doth change, + After the truth has been discovered to him, + +So did I change; and when without disquiet + My Leader saw me, up along the cliff + He moved, and I behind him, tow’rd the height. + +Reader, thou seest well how I exalt + My theme, and therefore if with greater art + I fortify it, marvel not thereat. + +Nearer approached we, and were in such place, + That there, where first appeared to me a rift + Like to a crevice that disparts a wall, + +I saw a portal, and three stairs beneath, + Diverse in colour, to go up to it, + And a gate-keeper, who yet spake no word. + +And as I opened more and more mine eyes, + I saw him seated on the highest stair, + Such in the face that I endured it not. + +And in his hand he had a naked sword, + Which so reflected back the sunbeams tow’rds us, + That oft in vain I lifted up mine eyes. + +“Tell it from where you are, what is’t you wish?” + Began he to exclaim; “where is the escort? + Take heed your coming hither harm you not!” + +“A Lady of Heaven, with these things conversant,” + My Master answered him, “but even now + Said to us, ‘Thither go; there is the portal.’” + +“And may she speed your footsteps in all good,” + Again began the courteous janitor; + “Come forward then unto these stairs of ours.” + +Thither did we approach; and the first stair + Was marble white, so polished and so smooth, + I mirrored myself therein as I appear. + +The second, tinct of deeper hue than perse, + Was of a calcined and uneven stone, + Cracked all asunder lengthwise and across. + +The third, that uppermost rests massively, + Porphyry seemed to me, as flaming red + As blood that from a vein is spirting forth. + +Both of his feet was holding upon this + The Angel of God, upon the threshold seated, + Which seemed to me a stone of diamond. + +Along the three stairs upward with good will + Did my Conductor draw me, saying: “Ask + Humbly that he the fastening may undo.” + +Devoutly at the holy feet I cast me, + For mercy’s sake besought that he would open, + But first upon my breast three times I smote. + +Seven P’s upon my forehead he described + With the sword’s point, and, “Take heed that thou wash + These wounds, when thou shalt be within,” he said. + +Ashes, or earth that dry is excavated, + Of the same colour were with his attire, + And from beneath it he drew forth two keys. + +One was of gold, and the other was of silver; + First with the white, and after with the yellow, + Plied he the door, so that I was content. + +“Whenever faileth either of these keys + So that it turn not rightly in the lock,” + He said to us, “this entrance doth not open. + +More precious one is, but the other needs + More art and intellect ere it unlock, + For it is that which doth the knot unloose. + +From Peter I have them; and he bade me err + Rather in opening than in keeping shut, + If people but fall down before my feet.” + +Then pushed the portals of the sacred door, + Exclaiming: “Enter; but I give you warning + That forth returns whoever looks behind.” + +And when upon their hinges were turned round + The swivels of that consecrated gate, + Which are of metal, massive and sonorous, + +Roared not so loud, nor so discordant seemed + Tarpeia, when was ta’en from it the good + Metellus, wherefore meagre it remained. + +At the first thunder-peal I turned attentive, + And “Te Deum laudamus” seemed to hear + In voices mingled with sweet melody. + +Exactly such an image rendered me + That which I heard, as we are wont to catch, + When people singing with the organ stand; + +For now we hear, and now hear not, the words. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto X + + +When we had crossed the threshold of the door + Which the perverted love of souls disuses, + Because it makes the crooked way seem straight, + +Re-echoing I heard it closed again; + And if I had turned back mine eyes upon it, + What for my failing had been fit excuse? + +We mounted upward through a rifted rock, + Which undulated to this side and that, + Even as a wave receding and advancing. + +“Here it behoves us use a little art,” + Began my Leader, “to adapt ourselves + Now here, now there, to the receding side.” + +And this our footsteps so infrequent made, + That sooner had the moon’s decreasing disk + Regained its bed to sink again to rest, + +Than we were forth from out that needle’s eye; + But when we free and in the open were, + There where the mountain backward piles itself, + +I wearied out, and both of us uncertain + About our way, we stopped upon a plain + More desolate than roads across the deserts. + +From where its margin borders on the void, + To foot of the high bank that ever rises, + A human body three times told would measure; + +And far as eye of mine could wing its flight, + Now on the left, and on the right flank now, + The same this cornice did appear to me. + +Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet, + When I perceived the embankment round about, + Which all right of ascent had interdicted, + +To be of marble white, and so adorned + With sculptures, that not only Polycletus, + But Nature’s self, had there been put to shame. + +The Angel, who came down to earth with tidings + Of peace, that had been wept for many a year, + And opened Heaven from its long interdict, + +In front of us appeared so truthfully + There sculptured in a gracious attitude, + He did not seem an image that is silent. + +One would have sworn that he was saying, “Ave;” + For she was there in effigy portrayed + Who turned the key to ope the exalted love, + +And in her mien this language had impressed, + “Ecce ancilla Dei,” as distinctly + As any figure stamps itself in wax. + +“Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,” + The gentle Master said, who had me standing + Upon that side where people have their hearts; + +Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheld + In rear of Mary, and upon that side + Where he was standing who conducted me, + +Another story on the rock imposed; + Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near, + So that before mine eyes it might be set. + +There sculptured in the self-same marble were + The cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark, + Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed. + +People appeared in front, and all of them + In seven choirs divided, of two senses + Made one say “No,” the other, “Yes, they sing.” + +Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense, + Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and nose + Were in the yes and no discordant made. + +Preceded there the vessel benedight, + Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist, + And more and less than King was he in this. + +Opposite, represented at the window + Of a great palace, Michal looked upon him, + Even as a woman scornful and afflicted. + +I moved my feet from where I had been standing, + To examine near at hand another story, + Which after Michal glimmered white upon me. + +There the high glory of the Roman Prince + Was chronicled, whose great beneficence + Moved Gregory to his great victory; + +’Tis of the Emperor Trajan I am speaking; + And a poor widow at his bridle stood, + In attitude of weeping and of grief. + +Around about him seemed it thronged and full + Of cavaliers, and the eagles in the gold + Above them visibly in the wind were moving. + +The wretched woman in the midst of these + Seemed to be saying: “Give me vengeance, Lord, + For my dead son, for whom my heart is breaking.” + +And he to answer her: “Now wait until + I shall return.” And she: “My Lord,” like one + In whom grief is impatient, “shouldst thou not + +Return?” And he: “Who shall be where I am + Will give it thee.” And she: “Good deed of others + What boots it thee, if thou neglect thine own?” + +Whence he: “Now comfort thee, for it behoves me + That I discharge my duty ere I move; + Justice so wills, and pity doth retain me.” + +He who on no new thing has ever looked + Was the creator of this visible language, + Novel to us, for here it is not found. + +While I delighted me in contemplating + The images of such humility, + And dear to look on for their Maker’s sake, + +“Behold, upon this side, but rare they make + Their steps,” the Poet murmured, “many people; + These will direct us to the lofty stairs.” + +Mine eyes, that in beholding were intent + To see new things, of which they curious are, + In turning round towards him were not slow. + +But still I wish not, Reader, thou shouldst swerve + From thy good purposes, because thou hearest + How God ordaineth that the debt be paid; + +Attend not to the fashion of the torment, + Think of what follows; think that at the worst + It cannot reach beyond the mighty sentence. + +“Master,” began I, “that which I behold + Moving towards us seems to me not persons, + And what I know not, so in sight I waver.” + +And he to me: “The grievous quality + Of this their torment bows them so to earth, + That my own eyes at first contended with it; + +But look there fixedly, and disentangle + By sight what cometh underneath those stones; + Already canst thou see how each is stricken.” + +O ye proud Christians! wretched, weary ones! + Who, in the vision of the mind infirm + Confidence have in your backsliding steps, + +Do ye not comprehend that we are worms, + Born to bring forth the angelic butterfly + That flieth unto judgment without screen? + +Why floats aloft your spirit high in air? + Like are ye unto insects undeveloped, + Even as the worm in whom formation fails! + +As to sustain a ceiling or a roof, + In place of corbel, oftentimes a figure + Is seen to join its knees unto its breast, + +Which makes of the unreal real anguish + Arise in him who sees it, fashioned thus + Beheld I those, when I had ta’en good heed. + +True is it, they were more or less bent down, + According as they more or less were laden; + And he who had most patience in his looks + +Weeping did seem to say, “I can no more!” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XI + + +“Our Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens, + Not circumscribed, but from the greater love + Thou bearest to the first effects on high, + +Praised be thy name and thine omnipotence + By every creature, as befitting is + To render thanks to thy sweet effluence. + +Come unto us the peace of thy dominion, + For unto it we cannot of ourselves, + If it come not, with all our intellect. + +Even as thine own Angels of their will + Make sacrifice to thee, Hosanna singing, + So may all men make sacrifice of theirs. + +Give unto us this day our daily manna, + Withouten which in this rough wilderness + Backward goes he who toils most to advance. + +And even as we the trespass we have suffered + Pardon in one another, pardon thou + Benignly, and regard not our desert. + +Our virtue, which is easily o’ercome, + Put not to proof with the old Adversary, + But thou from him who spurs it so, deliver. + +This last petition verily, dear Lord, + Not for ourselves is made, who need it not, + But for their sake who have remained behind us.” + +Thus for themselves and us good furtherance + Those shades imploring, went beneath a weight + Like unto that of which we sometimes dream, + +Unequally in anguish round and round + And weary all, upon that foremost cornice, + Purging away the smoke-stains of the world. + +If there good words are always said for us, + What may not here be said and done for them, + By those who have a good root to their will? + +Well may we help them wash away the marks + That hence they carried, so that clean and light + They may ascend unto the starry wheels! + +“Ah! so may pity and justice you disburden + Soon, that ye may have power to move the wing, + That shall uplift you after your desire, + +Show us on which hand tow’rd the stairs the way + Is shortest, and if more than one the passes, + Point us out that which least abruptly falls; + +For he who cometh with me, through the burden + Of Adam’s flesh wherewith he is invested, + Against his will is chary of his climbing.” + +The words of theirs which they returned to those + That he whom I was following had spoken, + It was not manifest from whom they came, + +But it was said: “To the right hand come with us + Along the bank, and ye shall find a pass + Possible for living person to ascend. + +And were I not impeded by the stone, + Which this proud neck of mine doth subjugate, + Whence I am forced to hold my visage down, + +Him, who still lives and does not name himself, + Would I regard, to see if I may know him + And make him piteous unto this burden. + +A Latian was I, and born of a great Tuscan; + Guglielmo Aldobrandeschi was my father; + I know not if his name were ever with you. + +The ancient blood and deeds of gallantry + Of my progenitors so arrogant made me + That, thinking not upon the common mother, + +All men I held in scorn to such extent + I died therefor, as know the Sienese, + And every child in Campagnatico. + +I am Omberto; and not to me alone + Has pride done harm, but all my kith and kin + Has with it dragged into adversity. + +And here must I this burden bear for it + Till God be satisfied, since I did not + Among the living, here among the dead.” + +Listening I downward bent my countenance; + And one of them, not this one who was speaking, + Twisted himself beneath the weight that cramps him, + +And looked at me, and knew me, and called out, + Keeping his eyes laboriously fixed + On me, who all bowed down was going with them. + +“O,” asked I him, “art thou not Oderisi, + Agobbio’s honour, and honour of that art + Which is in Paris called illuminating?” + +“Brother,” said he, “more laughing are the leaves + Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese; + All his the honour now, and mine in part. + +In sooth I had not been so courteous + While I was living, for the great desire + Of excellence, on which my heart was bent. + +Here of such pride is paid the forfeiture; + And yet I should not be here, were it not + That, having power to sin, I turned to God. + +O thou vain glory of the human powers, + How little green upon thy summit lingers, + If’t be not followed by an age of grossness! + +In painting Cimabue thought that he + Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry, + So that the other’s fame is growing dim. + +So has one Guido from the other taken + The glory of our tongue, and he perchance + Is born, who from the nest shall chase them both. + +Naught is this mundane rumour but a breath + Of wind, that comes now this way and now that, + And changes name, because it changes side. + +What fame shalt thou have more, if old peel off + From thee thy flesh, than if thou hadst been dead + Before thou left the ‘pappo’ and the ‘dindi,’ + +Ere pass a thousand years? which is a shorter + Space to the eterne, than twinkling of an eye + Unto the circle that in heaven wheels slowest. + +With him, who takes so little of the road + In front of me, all Tuscany resounded; + And now he scarce is lisped of in Siena, + +Where he was lord, what time was overthrown + The Florentine delirium, that superb + Was at that day as now ’tis prostitute. + +Your reputation is the colour of grass + Which comes and goes, and that discolours it + By which it issues green from out the earth.” + +And I: “Thy true speech fills my heart with good + Humility, and great tumour thou assuagest; + But who is he, of whom just now thou spakest?” + +“That,” he replied, “is Provenzan Salvani, + And he is here because he had presumed + To bring Siena all into his hands. + +He has gone thus, and goeth without rest + E’er since he died; such money renders back + In payment he who is on earth too daring.” + +And I: “If every spirit who awaits + The verge of life before that he repent, + Remains below there and ascends not hither, + +(Unless good orison shall him bestead,) + Until as much time as he lived be passed, + How was the coming granted him in largess?” + +“When he in greatest splendour lived,” said he, + “Freely upon the Campo of Siena, + All shame being laid aside, he placed himself; + +And there to draw his friend from the duress + Which in the prison-house of Charles he suffered, + He brought himself to tremble in each vein. + +I say no more, and know that I speak darkly; + Yet little time shall pass before thy neighbours + Will so demean themselves that thou canst gloss it. + +This action has released him from those confines.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XII + + +Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke, + I with that heavy-laden soul went on, + As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted; + +But when he said, “Leave him, and onward pass, + For here ’tis good that with the sail and oars, + As much as may be, each push on his barque;” + +Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed + My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts + Remained within me downcast and abashed. + +I had moved on, and followed willingly + The footsteps of my Master, and we both + Already showed how light of foot we were, + +When unto me he said: “Cast down thine eyes; + ’Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way, + To look upon the bed beneath thy feet.” + +As, that some memory may exist of them, + Above the buried dead their tombs in earth + Bear sculptured on them what they were before; + +Whence often there we weep for them afresh, + From pricking of remembrance, which alone + To the compassionate doth set its spur; + +So saw I there, but of a better semblance + In point of artifice, with figures covered + Whate’er as pathway from the mount projects. + +I saw that one who was created noble + More than all other creatures, down from heaven + Flaming with lightnings fall upon one side. + +I saw Briareus smitten by the dart + Celestial, lying on the other side, + Heavy upon the earth by mortal frost. + +I saw Thymbraeus, Pallas saw, and Mars, + Still clad in armour round about their father, + Gaze at the scattered members of the giants. + +I saw, at foot of his great labour, Nimrod, + As if bewildered, looking at the people + Who had been proud with him in Sennaar. + +O Niobe! with what afflicted eyes + Thee I beheld upon the pathway traced, + Between thy seven and seven children slain! + +O Saul! how fallen upon thy proper sword + Didst thou appear there lifeless in Gilboa, + That felt thereafter neither rain nor dew! + +O mad Arachne! so I thee beheld + E’en then half spider, sad upon the shreds + Of fabric wrought in evil hour for thee! + +O Rehoboam! no more seems to threaten + Thine image there; but full of consternation + A chariot bears it off, when none pursues! + +Displayed moreo’er the adamantine pavement + How unto his own mother made Alcmaeon + Costly appear the luckless ornament; + +Displayed how his own sons did throw themselves + Upon Sennacherib within the temple, + And how, he being dead, they left him there; + +Displayed the ruin and the cruel carnage + That Tomyris wrought, when she to Cyrus said, + “Blood didst thou thirst for, and with blood I glut thee!” + +Displayed how routed fled the Assyrians + After that Holofernes had been slain, + And likewise the remainder of that slaughter. + +I saw there Troy in ashes and in caverns; + O Ilion! thee, how abject and debased, + Displayed the image that is there discerned! + +Whoe’er of pencil master was or stile, + That could portray the shades and traits which there + Would cause each subtile genius to admire? + +Dead seemed the dead, the living seemed alive; + Better than I saw not who saw the truth, + All that I trod upon while bowed I went. + +Now wax ye proud, and on with looks uplifted, + Ye sons of Eve, and bow not down your faces + So that ye may behold your evil ways! + +More of the mount by us was now encompassed, + And far more spent the circuit of the sun, + Than had the mind preoccupied imagined, + +When he, who ever watchful in advance + Was going on, began: “Lift up thy head, + ’Tis no more time to go thus meditating. + +Lo there an Angel who is making haste + To come towards us; lo, returning is + From service of the day the sixth handmaiden. + +With reverence thine acts and looks adorn, + So that he may delight to speed us upward; + Think that this day will never dawn again.” + +I was familiar with his admonition + Ever to lose no time; so on this theme + He could not unto me speak covertly. + +Towards us came the being beautiful + Vested in white, and in his countenance + Such as appears the tremulous morning star. + +His arms he opened, and opened then his wings; + “Come,” said he, “near at hand here are the steps, + And easy from henceforth is the ascent.” + +At this announcement few are they who come! + O human creatures, born to soar aloft, + Why fall ye thus before a little wind? + +He led us on to where the rock was cleft; + There smote upon my forehead with his wings, + Then a safe passage promised unto me. + +As on the right hand, to ascend the mount + Where seated is the church that lordeth it + O’er the well-guided, above Rubaconte, + +The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken + By stairways that were made there in the age + When still were safe the ledger and the stave, + +E’en thus attempered is the bank which falls + Sheer downward from the second circle there; + But on this, side and that the high rock graze. + +As we were turning thitherward our persons, + “Beati pauperes spiritu,” voices + Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not. + +Ah me! how different are these entrances + From the Infernal! for with anthems here + One enters, and below with wild laments. + +We now were hunting up the sacred stairs, + And it appeared to me by far more easy + Than on the plain it had appeared before. + +Whence I: “My Master, say, what heavy thing + Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly + Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?” + +He answered: “When the P’s which have remained + Still on thy face almost obliterate + Shall wholly, as the first is, be erased, + +Thy feet will be so vanquished by good will, + That not alone they shall not feel fatigue, + But urging up will be to them delight.” + +Then did I even as they do who are going + With something on the head to them unknown, + Unless the signs of others make them doubt, + +Wherefore the hand to ascertain is helpful, + And seeks and finds, and doth fulfill the office + Which cannot be accomplished by the sight; + +And with the fingers of the right hand spread + I found but six the letters, that had carved + Upon my temples he who bore the keys; + +Upon beholding which my Leader smiled. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XIII + + +We were upon the summit of the stairs, + Where for the second time is cut away + The mountain, which ascending shriveth all. + +There in like manner doth a cornice bind + The hill all round about, as does the first, + Save that its arc more suddenly is curved. + +Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears; + So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth, + With but the livid colour of the stone. + +“If to inquire we wait for people here,” + The Poet said, “I fear that peradventure + Too much delay will our election have.” + +Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed, + Made his right side the centre of his motion, + And turned the left part of himself about. + +“O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter + Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,” + Said he, “as one within here should be led. + +Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it; + If other reason prompt not otherwise, + Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!” + +As much as here is counted for a mile, + So much already there had we advanced + In little time, by dint of ready will; + +And tow’rds us there were heard to fly, albeit + They were not visible, spirits uttering + Unto Love’s table courteous invitations, + +The first voice that passed onward in its flight, + “Vinum non habent,” said in accents loud, + And went reiterating it behind us. + +And ere it wholly grew inaudible + Because of distance, passed another, crying, + “I am Orestes!” and it also stayed not. + +“O,” said I, “Father, these, what voices are they?” + And even as I asked, behold the third, + Saying: “Love those from whom ye have had evil!” + +And the good Master said: “This circle scourges + The sin of envy, and on that account + Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge. + +The bridle of another sound shall be; + I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge, + Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon. + +But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast, + And people thou wilt see before us sitting, + And each one close against the cliff is seated.” + +Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened; + I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles + Not from the colour of the stone diverse. + +And when we were a little farther onward, + I heard a cry of, “Mary, pray for us!” + A cry of, “Michael, Peter, and all Saints!” + +I do not think there walketh still on earth + A man so hard, that he would not be pierced + With pity at what afterward I saw. + +For when I had approached so near to them + That manifest to me their acts became, + Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief. + +Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me, + And one sustained the other with his shoulder, + And all of them were by the bank sustained. + +Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood, + Stand at the doors of churches asking alms, + And one upon another leans his head, + +So that in others pity soon may rise, + Not only at the accent of their words, + But at their aspect, which no less implores. + +And as unto the blind the sun comes not, + So to the shades, of whom just now I spake, + Heaven’s light will not be bounteous of itself; + +For all their lids an iron wire transpierces, + And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild + Is done, because it will not quiet stay. + +To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage, + Seeing the others without being seen; + Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage. + +Well knew he what the mute one wished to say, + And therefore waited not for my demand, + But said: “Speak, and be brief, and to the point.” + +I had Virgilius upon that side + Of the embankment from which one may fall, + Since by no border ’tis engarlanded; + +Upon the other side of me I had + The shades devout, who through the horrible seam + Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks. + +To them I turned me, and, “O people, certain,” + Began I, “of beholding the high light, + Which your desire has solely in its care, + +So may grace speedily dissolve the scum + Upon your consciences, that limpidly + Through them descend the river of the mind, + +Tell me, for dear ’twill be to me and gracious, + If any soul among you here is Latian, + And ’twill perchance be good for him I learn it.” + +“O brother mine, each one is citizen + Of one true city; but thy meaning is, + Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim.” + +By way of answer this I seemed to hear + A little farther on than where I stood, + Whereat I made myself still nearer heard. + +Among the rest I saw a shade that waited + In aspect, and should any one ask how, + Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man. + +“Spirit,” I said, “who stoopest to ascend, + If thou art he who did reply to me, + Make thyself known to me by place or name.” + +“Sienese was I,” it replied, “and with + The others here recleanse my guilty life, + Weeping to Him to lend himself to us. + +Sapient I was not, although I Sapia + Was called, and I was at another’s harm + More happy far than at my own good fortune. + +And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee, + Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee. + The arc already of my years descending, + +My fellow-citizens near unto Colle + Were joined in battle with their adversaries, + And I was praying God for what he willed. + +Routed were they, and turned into the bitter + Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding, + A joy received unequalled by all others; + +So that I lifted upward my bold face + Crying to God, ‘Henceforth I fear thee not,’ + As did the blackbird at the little sunshine. + +Peace I desired with God at the extreme + Of my existence, and as yet would not + My debt have been by penitence discharged, + +Had it not been that in remembrance held me + Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers, + Who out of charity was grieved for me. + +But who art thou, that into our conditions + Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound + As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?” + +“Mine eyes,” I said, “will yet be here ta’en from me, + But for short space; for small is the offence + Committed by their being turned with envy. + +Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended + My soul is, of the torment underneath, + For even now the load down there weighs on me.” + +And she to me: “Who led thee, then, among us + Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?” + And I: “He who is with me, and speaks not; + +And living am I; therefore ask of me, + Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move + O’er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee.” + +“O, this is such a novel thing to hear,” + She answered, “that great sign it is God loves thee; + Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me. + +And I implore, by what thou most desirest, + If e’er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany, + Well with my kindred reinstate my fame. + +Them wilt thou see among that people vain + Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there + More hope than in discovering the Diana; + +But there still more the admirals will lose.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XIV + + +“Who is this one that goes about our mountain, + Or ever Death has given him power of flight, + And opes his eyes and shuts them at his will?” + +“I know not who, but know he’s not alone; + Ask him thyself, for thou art nearer to him, + And gently, so that he may speak, accost him.” + +Thus did two spirits, leaning tow’rds each other, + Discourse about me there on the right hand; + Then held supine their faces to address me. + +And said the one: “O soul, that, fastened still + Within the body, tow’rds the heaven art going, + For charity console us, and declare + +Whence comest and who art thou; for thou mak’st us + As much to marvel at this grace of thine + As must a thing that never yet has been.” + +And I: “Through midst of Tuscany there wanders + A streamlet that is born in Falterona, + And not a hundred miles of course suffice it; + +From thereupon do I this body bring. + To tell you who I am were speech in vain, + Because my name as yet makes no great noise.” + +“If well thy meaning I can penetrate + With intellect of mine,” then answered me + He who first spake, “thou speakest of the Arno.” + +And said the other to him: “Why concealed + This one the appellation of that river, + Even as a man doth of things horrible?” + +And thus the shade that questioned was of this + Himself acquitted: “I know not; but truly + ’Tis fit the name of such a valley perish; + +For from its fountain-head (where is so pregnant + The Alpine mountain whence is cleft Peloro + That in few places it that mark surpasses) + +To where it yields itself in restoration + Of what the heaven doth of the sea dry up, + Whence have the rivers that which goes with them, + +Virtue is like an enemy avoided + By all, as is a serpent, through misfortune + Of place, or through bad habit that impels them; + +On which account have so transformed their nature + The dwellers in that miserable valley, + It seems that Circe had them in her pasture. + +’Mid ugly swine, of acorns worthier + Than other food for human use created, + It first directeth its impoverished way. + +Curs findeth it thereafter, coming downward, + More snarling than their puissance demands, + And turns from them disdainfully its muzzle. + +It goes on falling, and the more it grows, + The more it finds the dogs becoming wolves, + This maledict and misadventurous ditch. + +Descended then through many a hollow gulf, + It finds the foxes so replete with fraud, + They fear no cunning that may master them. + +Nor will I cease because another hears me; + And well ’twill be for him, if still he mind him + Of what a truthful spirit to me unravels. + +Thy grandson I behold, who doth become + A hunter of those wolves upon the bank + Of the wild stream, and terrifies them all. + +He sells their flesh, it being yet alive; + Thereafter slaughters them like ancient beeves; + Many of life, himself of praise, deprives. + +Blood-stained he issues from the dismal forest; + He leaves it such, a thousand years from now + In its primeval state ’tis not re-wooded.” + +As at the announcement of impending ills + The face of him who listens is disturbed, + From whate’er side the peril seize upon him; + +So I beheld that other soul, which stood + Turned round to listen, grow disturbed and sad, + When it had gathered to itself the word. + +The speech of one and aspect of the other + Had me desirous made to know their names, + And question mixed with prayers I made thereof, + +Whereat the spirit which first spake to me + Began again: “Thou wishest I should bring me + To do for thee what thou’lt not do for me; + +But since God willeth that in thee shine forth + Such grace of his, I’ll not be chary with thee; + Know, then, that I Guido del Duca am. + +My blood was so with envy set on fire, + That if I had beheld a man make merry, + Thou wouldst have seen me sprinkled o’er with pallor. + +From my own sowing such the straw I reap! + O human race! why dost thou set thy heart + Where interdict of partnership must be? + +This is Renier; this is the boast and honour + Of the house of Calboli, where no one since + Has made himself the heir of his desert. + +And not alone his blood is made devoid, + ’Twixt Po and mount, and sea-shore and the Reno, + Of good required for truth and for diversion; + +For all within these boundaries is full + Of venomous roots, so that too tardily + By cultivation now would they diminish. + +Where is good Lizio, and Arrigo Manardi, + Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna, + O Romagnuoli into bastards turned? + +When in Bologna will a Fabbro rise? + When in Faenza a Bernardin di Fosco, + The noble scion of ignoble seed? + +Be not astonished, Tuscan, if I weep, + When I remember, with Guido da Prata, + Ugolin d’ Azzo, who was living with us, + +Frederick Tignoso and his company, + The house of Traversara, and th’ Anastagi, + And one race and the other is extinct; + +The dames and cavaliers, the toils and ease + That filled our souls with love and courtesy, + There where the hearts have so malicious grown! + +O Brettinoro! why dost thou not flee, + Seeing that all thy family is gone, + And many people, not to be corrupted? + +Bagnacaval does well in not begetting + And ill does Castrocaro, and Conio worse, + In taking trouble to beget such Counts. + +Will do well the Pagani, when their Devil + Shall have departed; but not therefore pure + Will testimony of them e’er remain. + +O Ugolin de’ Fantoli, secure + Thy name is, since no longer is awaited + One who, degenerating, can obscure it! + +But go now, Tuscan, for it now delights me + To weep far better than it does to speak, + So much has our discourse my mind distressed.” + +We were aware that those beloved souls + Heard us depart; therefore, by keeping silent, + They made us of our pathway confident. + +When we became alone by going onward, + Thunder, when it doth cleave the air, appeared + A voice, that counter to us came, exclaiming: + +“Shall slay me whosoever findeth me!” + And fled as the reverberation dies + If suddenly the cloud asunder bursts. + +As soon as hearing had a truce from this, + Behold another, with so great a crash, + That it resembled thunderings following fast: + +“I am Aglaurus, who became a stone!” + And then, to press myself close to the Poet, + I backward, and not forward, took a step. + +Already on all sides the air was quiet; + And said he to me: “That was the hard curb + That ought to hold a man within his bounds; + +But you take in the bait so that the hook + Of the old Adversary draws you to him, + And hence availeth little curb or call. + +The heavens are calling you, and wheel around you, + Displaying to you their eternal beauties, + And still your eye is looking on the ground; + +Whence He, who all discerns, chastises you.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XV + + +As much as ’twixt the close of the third hour + And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere + Which aye in fashion of a child is playing, + +So much it now appeared, towards the night, + Was of his course remaining to the sun; + There it was evening, and ’twas midnight here; + +And the rays smote the middle of our faces, + Because by us the mount was so encircled, + That straight towards the west we now were going + +When I perceived my forehead overpowered + Beneath the splendour far more than at first, + And stupor were to me the things unknown, + +Whereat towards the summit of my brow + I raised my hands, and made myself the visor + Which the excessive glare diminishes. + +As when from off the water, or a mirror, + The sunbeam leaps unto the opposite side, + Ascending upward in the selfsame measure + +That it descends, and deviates as far + From falling of a stone in line direct, + (As demonstrate experiment and art,) + +So it appeared to me that by a light + Refracted there before me I was smitten; + On which account my sight was swift to flee. + +“What is that, Father sweet, from which I cannot + So fully screen my sight that it avail me,” + Said I, “and seems towards us to be moving?” + +“Marvel thou not, if dazzle thee as yet + The family of heaven,” he answered me; + “An angel ’tis, who comes to invite us upward. + +Soon will it be, that to behold these things + Shall not be grievous, but delightful to thee + As much as nature fashioned thee to feel.” + +When we had reached the Angel benedight, + With joyful voice he said: “Here enter in + To stairway far less steep than are the others.” + +We mounting were, already thence departed, + And “Beati misericordes” was + Behind us sung, “Rejoice, thou that o’ercomest!” + +My Master and myself, we two alone + Were going upward, and I thought, in going, + Some profit to acquire from words of his; + +And I to him directed me, thus asking: + “What did the spirit of Romagna mean, + Mentioning interdict and partnership?” + +Whence he to me: “Of his own greatest failing + He knows the harm; and therefore wonder not + If he reprove us, that we less may rue it. + +Because are thither pointed your desires + Where by companionship each share is lessened, + Envy doth ply the bellows to your sighs. + +But if the love of the supernal sphere + Should upwardly direct your aspiration, + There would not be that fear within your breast; + +For there, as much the more as one says ‘Our,’ + So much the more of good each one possesses, + And more of charity in that cloister burns.” + +“I am more hungering to be satisfied,” + I said, “than if I had before been silent, + And more of doubt within my mind I gather. + +How can it be, that boon distributed + The more possessors can more wealthy make + Therein, than if by few it be possessed?” + +And he to me: “Because thou fixest still + Thy mind entirely upon earthly things, + Thou pluckest darkness from the very light. + +That goodness infinite and ineffable + Which is above there, runneth unto love, + As to a lucid body comes the sunbeam. + +So much it gives itself as it finds ardour, + So that as far as charity extends, + O’er it increases the eternal valour. + +And the more people thitherward aspire, + More are there to love well, and more they love there, + And, as a mirror, one reflects the other. + +And if my reasoning appease thee not, + Thou shalt see Beatrice; and she will fully + Take from thee this and every other longing. + +Endeavour, then, that soon may be extinct, + As are the two already, the five wounds + That close themselves again by being painful.” + +Even as I wished to say, “Thou dost appease me,” + I saw that I had reached another circle, + So that my eager eyes made me keep silence. + +There it appeared to me that in a vision + Ecstatic on a sudden I was rapt, + And in a temple many persons saw; + +And at the door a woman, with the sweet + Behaviour of a mother, saying: “Son, + Why in this manner hast thou dealt with us? + +Lo, sorrowing, thy father and myself + Were seeking for thee;”—and as here she ceased, + That which appeared at first had disappeared. + +Then I beheld another with those waters + Adown her cheeks which grief distils whenever + From great disdain of others it is born, + +And saying: “If of that city thou art lord, + For whose name was such strife among the gods, + And whence doth every science scintillate, + +Avenge thyself on those audacious arms + That clasped our daughter, O Pisistratus;” + And the lord seemed to me benign and mild + +To answer her with aspect temperate: + “What shall we do to those who wish us ill, + If he who loves us be by us condemned?” + +Then saw I people hot in fire of wrath, + With stones a young man slaying, clamorously + Still crying to each other, “Kill him! kill him!” + +And him I saw bow down, because of death + That weighed already on him, to the earth, + But of his eyes made ever gates to heaven, + +Imploring the high Lord, in so great strife, + That he would pardon those his persecutors, + With such an aspect as unlocks compassion. + +Soon as my soul had outwardly returned + To things external to it which are true, + Did I my not false errors recognize. + +My Leader, who could see me bear myself + Like to a man that rouses him from sleep, + Exclaimed: “What ails thee, that thou canst not stand? + +But hast been coming more than half a league + Veiling thine eyes, and with thy legs entangled, + In guise of one whom wine or sleep subdues?” + +“O my sweet Father, if thou listen to me, + I’ll tell thee,” said I, “what appeared to me, + When thus from me my legs were ta’en away.” + +And he: “If thou shouldst have a hundred masks + Upon thy face, from me would not be shut + Thy cogitations, howsoever small. + +What thou hast seen was that thou mayst not fail + To ope thy heart unto the waters of peace, + Which from the eternal fountain are diffused. + +I did not ask, ‘What ails thee?’ as he does + Who only looketh with the eyes that see not + When of the soul bereft the body lies, + +But asked it to give vigour to thy feet; + Thus must we needs urge on the sluggards, slow + To use their wakefulness when it returns.” + +We passed along, athwart the twilight peering + Forward as far as ever eye could stretch + Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent; + +And lo! by slow degrees a smoke approached + In our direction, sombre as the night, + Nor was there place to hide one’s self therefrom. + +This of our eyes and the pure air bereft us. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XVI + + +Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived + Of every planet under a poor sky, + As much as may be tenebrous with cloud, + +Ne’er made unto my sight so thick a veil, + As did that smoke which there enveloped us, + Nor to the feeling of so rough a texture; + +For not an eye it suffered to stay open; + Whereat mine escort, faithful and sagacious, + Drew near to me and offered me his shoulder. + +E’en as a blind man goes behind his guide, + Lest he should wander, or should strike against + Aught that may harm or peradventure kill him, + +So went I through the bitter and foul air, + Listening unto my Leader, who said only, + “Look that from me thou be not separated.” + +Voices I heard, and every one appeared + To supplicate for peace and misericord + The Lamb of God who takes away our sins. + +Still “Agnus Dei” their exordium was; + One word there was in all, and metre one, + So that all harmony appeared among them. + +“Master,” I said, “are spirits those I hear?” + And he to me: “Thou apprehendest truly, + And they the knot of anger go unloosing.” + +“Now who art thou, that cleavest through our smoke + And art discoursing of us even as though + Thou didst by calends still divide the time?” + +After this manner by a voice was spoken; + Whereon my Master said: “Do thou reply, + And ask if on this side the way go upward.” + +And I: “O creature that dost cleanse thyself + To return beautiful to Him who made thee, + Thou shalt hear marvels if thou follow me.” + +“Thee will I follow far as is allowed me,” + He answered; “and if smoke prevent our seeing, + Hearing shall keep us joined instead thereof.” + +Thereon began I: “With that swathing band + Which death unwindeth am I going upward, + And hither came I through the infernal anguish. + +And if God in his grace has me infolded, + So that he wills that I behold his court + By method wholly out of modern usage, + +Conceal not from me who ere death thou wast, + But tell it me, and tell me if I go + Right for the pass, and be thy words our escort.” + +“Lombard was I, and I was Marco called; + The world I knew, and loved that excellence, + At which has each one now unbent his bow. + +For mounting upward, thou art going right.” + Thus he made answer, and subjoined: “I pray thee + To pray for me when thou shalt be above.” + +And I to him: “My faith I pledge to thee + To do what thou dost ask me; but am bursting + Inly with doubt, unless I rid me of it. + +First it was simple, and is now made double + By thy opinion, which makes certain to me, + Here and elsewhere, that which I couple with it. + +The world forsooth is utterly deserted + By every virtue, as thou tellest me, + And with iniquity is big and covered; + +But I beseech thee point me out the cause, + That I may see it, and to others show it; + For one in the heavens, and here below one puts it.” + +A sigh profound, that grief forced into Ai! + He first sent forth, and then began he: “Brother, + The world is blind, and sooth thou comest from it! + +Ye who are living every cause refer + Still upward to the heavens, as if all things + They of necessity moved with themselves. + +If this were so, in you would be destroyed + Free will, nor any justice would there be + In having joy for good, or grief for evil. + +The heavens your movements do initiate, + I say not all; but granting that I say it, + Light has been given you for good and evil, + +And free volition; which, if some fatigue + In the first battles with the heavens it suffers, + Afterwards conquers all, if well ’tis nurtured. + +To greater force and to a better nature, + Though free, ye subject are, and that creates + The mind in you the heavens have not in charge. + +Hence, if the present world doth go astray, + In you the cause is, be it sought in you; + And I therein will now be thy true spy. + +Forth from the hand of Him, who fondles it + Before it is, like to a little girl + Weeping and laughing in her childish sport, + +Issues the simple soul, that nothing knows, + Save that, proceeding from a joyous Maker, + Gladly it turns to that which gives it pleasure. + +Of trivial good at first it tastes the savour; + Is cheated by it, and runs after it, + If guide or rein turn not aside its love. + +Hence it behoved laws for a rein to place, + Behoved a king to have, who at the least + Of the true city should discern the tower. + +The laws exist, but who sets hand to them? + No one; because the shepherd who precedes + Can ruminate, but cleaveth not the hoof; + +Wherefore the people that perceives its guide + Strike only at the good for which it hankers, + Feeds upon that, and farther seeketh not. + +Clearly canst thou perceive that evil guidance + The cause is that has made the world depraved, + And not that nature is corrupt in you. + +Rome, that reformed the world, accustomed was + Two suns to have, which one road and the other, + Of God and of the world, made manifest. + +One has the other quenched, and to the crosier + The sword is joined, and ill beseemeth it + That by main force one with the other go, + +Because, being joined, one feareth not the other; + If thou believe not, think upon the grain, + For by its seed each herb is recognized. + +In the land laved by Po and Adige, + Valour and courtesy used to be found, + Before that Frederick had his controversy; + +Now in security can pass that way + Whoever will abstain, through sense of shame, + From speaking with the good, or drawing near them. + +True, three old men are left, in whom upbraids + The ancient age the new, and late they deem it + That God restore them to the better life: + +Currado da Palazzo, and good Gherardo, + And Guido da Castel, who better named is, + In fashion of the French, the simple Lombard: + +Say thou henceforward that the Church of Rome, + Confounding in itself two governments, + Falls in the mire, and soils itself and burden.” + +“O Marco mine,” I said, “thou reasonest well; + And now discern I why the sons of Levi + Have been excluded from the heritage. + +But what Gherardo is it, who, as sample + Of a lost race, thou sayest has remained + In reprobation of the barbarous age?” + +“Either thy speech deceives me, or it tempts me,” + He answered me; “for speaking Tuscan to me, + It seems of good Gherardo naught thou knowest. + +By other surname do I know him not, + Unless I take it from his daughter Gaia. + May God be with you, for I come no farther. + +Behold the dawn, that through the smoke rays out, + Already whitening; and I must depart— + Yonder the Angel is—ere he appear.” + +Thus did he speak, and would no farther hear me. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XVII + + +Remember, Reader, if e’er in the Alps + A mist o’ertook thee, through which thou couldst see + Not otherwise than through its membrane mole, + +How, when the vapours humid and condensed + Begin to dissipate themselves, the sphere + Of the sun feebly enters in among them, + +And thy imagination will be swift + In coming to perceive how I re-saw + The sun at first, that was already setting. + +Thus, to the faithful footsteps of my Master + Mating mine own, I issued from that cloud + To rays already dead on the low shores. + +O thou, Imagination, that dost steal us + So from without sometimes, that man perceives not, + Although around may sound a thousand trumpets, + +Who moveth thee, if sense impel thee not? + Moves thee a light, which in the heaven takes form, + By self, or by a will that downward guides it. + +Of her impiety, who changed her form + Into the bird that most delights in singing, + In my imagining appeared the trace; + +And hereupon my mind was so withdrawn + Within itself, that from without there came + Nothing that then might be received by it. + +Then reigned within my lofty fantasy + One crucified, disdainful and ferocious + In countenance, and even thus was dying. + +Around him were the great Ahasuerus, + Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, + Who was in word and action so entire. + +And even as this image burst asunder + Of its own self, in fashion of a bubble + In which the water it was made of fails, + +There rose up in my vision a young maiden + Bitterly weeping, and she said: “O queen, + Why hast thou wished in anger to be naught? + +Thou’st slain thyself, Lavinia not to lose; + Now hast thou lost me; I am she who mourns, + Mother, at thine ere at another’s ruin.” + +As sleep is broken, when upon a sudden + New light strikes in upon the eyelids closed, + And broken quivers ere it dieth wholly, + +So this imagining of mine fell down + As soon as the effulgence smote my face, + Greater by far than what is in our wont. + +I turned me round to see where I might be, + When said a voice, “Here is the passage up;” + Which from all other purposes removed me, + +And made my wish so full of eagerness + To look and see who was it that was speaking, + It never rests till meeting face to face; + +But as before the sun, which quells the sight, + And in its own excess its figure veils, + Even so my power was insufficient here. + +“This is a spirit divine, who in the way + Of going up directs us without asking, + And who with his own light himself conceals. + +He does with us as man doth with himself; + For he who sees the need, and waits the asking, + Malignly leans already tow’rds denial. + +Accord we now our feet to such inviting, + Let us make haste to mount ere it grow dark; + For then we could not till the day return.” + +Thus my Conductor said; and I and he + Together turned our footsteps to a stairway; + And I, as soon as the first step I reached, + +Near me perceived a motion as of wings, + And fanning in the face, and saying, “‘Beati + Pacifici,’ who are without ill anger.” + +Already over us were so uplifted + The latest sunbeams, which the night pursues, + That upon many sides the stars appeared. + +“O manhood mine, why dost thou vanish so?” + I said within myself; for I perceived + The vigour of my legs was put in truce. + +We at the point were where no more ascends + The stairway upward, and were motionless, + Even as a ship, which at the shore arrives; + +And I gave heed a little, if I might hear + Aught whatsoever in the circle new; + Then to my Master turned me round and said: + +“Say, my sweet Father, what delinquency + Is purged here in the circle where we are? + Although our feet may pause, pause not thy speech.” + +And he to me: “The love of good, remiss + In what it should have done, is here restored; + Here plied again the ill-belated oar; + +But still more openly to understand, + Turn unto me thy mind, and thou shalt gather + Some profitable fruit from our delay. + +Neither Creator nor a creature ever, + Son,” he began, “was destitute of love + Natural or spiritual; and thou knowest it. + +The natural was ever without error; + But err the other may by evil object, + Or by too much, or by too little vigour. + +While in the first it well directed is, + And in the second moderates itself, + It cannot be the cause of sinful pleasure; + +But when to ill it turns, and, with more care + Or lesser than it ought, runs after good, + ’Gainst the Creator works his own creation. + +Hence thou mayst comprehend that love must be + The seed within yourselves of every virtue, + And every act that merits punishment. + +Now inasmuch as never from the welfare + Of its own subject can love turn its sight, + From their own hatred all things are secure; + +And since we cannot think of any being + Standing alone, nor from the First divided, + Of hating Him is all desire cut off. + +Hence if, discriminating, I judge well, + The evil that one loves is of one’s neighbour, + And this is born in three modes in your clay. + +There are, who, by abasement of their neighbour, + Hope to excel, and therefore only long + That from his greatness he may be cast down; + +There are, who power, grace, honour, and renown + Fear they may lose because another rises, + Thence are so sad that the reverse they love; + +And there are those whom injury seems to chafe, + So that it makes them greedy for revenge, + And such must needs shape out another’s harm. + +This threefold love is wept for down below; + Now of the other will I have thee hear, + That runneth after good with measure faulty. + +Each one confusedly a good conceives + Wherein the mind may rest, and longeth for it; + Therefore to overtake it each one strives. + +If languid love to look on this attract you, + Or in attaining unto it, this cornice, + After just penitence, torments you for it. + +There’s other good that does not make man happy; + ’Tis not felicity, ’tis not the good + Essence, of every good the fruit and root. + +The love that yields itself too much to this + Above us is lamented in three circles; + But how tripartite it may be described, + +I say not, that thou seek it for thyself.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XVIII + + +An end had put unto his reasoning + The lofty Teacher, and attent was looking + Into my face, if I appeared content; + +And I, whom a new thirst still goaded on, + Without was mute, and said within: “Perchance + The too much questioning I make annoys him.” + +But that true Father, who had comprehended + The timid wish, that opened not itself, + By speaking gave me hardihood to speak. + +Whence I: “My sight is, Master, vivified + So in thy light, that clearly I discern + Whate’er thy speech importeth or describes. + +Therefore I thee entreat, sweet Father dear, + To teach me love, to which thou dost refer + Every good action and its contrary.” + +“Direct,” he said, “towards me the keen eyes + Of intellect, and clear will be to thee + The error of the blind, who would be leaders. + +The soul, which is created apt to love, + Is mobile unto everything that pleases, + Soon as by pleasure she is waked to action. + +Your apprehension from some real thing + An image draws, and in yourselves displays it + So that it makes the soul turn unto it. + +And if, when turned, towards it she incline, + Love is that inclination; it is nature, + Which is by pleasure bound in you anew + +Then even as the fire doth upward move + By its own form, which to ascend is born, + Where longest in its matter it endures, + +So comes the captive soul into desire, + Which is a motion spiritual, and ne’er rests + Until she doth enjoy the thing beloved. + +Now may apparent be to thee how hidden + The truth is from those people, who aver + All love is in itself a laudable thing; + +Because its matter may perchance appear + Aye to be good; but yet not each impression + Is good, albeit good may be the wax.” + +“Thy words, and my sequacious intellect,” + I answered him, “have love revealed to me; + But that has made me more impregned with doubt; + +For if love from without be offered us, + And with another foot the soul go not, + If right or wrong she go, ’tis not her merit.” + +And he to me: “What reason seeth here, + Myself can tell thee; beyond that await + For Beatrice, since ’tis a work of faith. + +Every substantial form, that segregate + From matter is, and with it is united, + Specific power has in itself collected, + +Which without act is not perceptible, + Nor shows itself except by its effect, + As life does in a plant by the green leaves. + +But still, whence cometh the intelligence + Of the first notions, man is ignorant, + And the affection for the first allurements, + +Which are in you as instinct in the bee + To make its honey; and this first desire + Merit of praise or blame containeth not. + +Now, that to this all others may be gathered, + Innate within you is the power that counsels, + And it should keep the threshold of assent. + +This is the principle, from which is taken + Occasion of desert in you, according + As good and guilty loves it takes and winnows. + +Those who, in reasoning, to the bottom went, + Were of this innate liberty aware, + Therefore bequeathed they Ethics to the world. + +Supposing, then, that from necessity + Springs every love that is within you kindled, + Within yourselves the power is to restrain it. + +The noble virtue Beatrice understands + By the free will; and therefore see that thou + Bear it in mind, if she should speak of it.” + +The moon, belated almost unto midnight, + Now made the stars appear to us more rare, + Formed like a bucket, that is all ablaze, + +And counter to the heavens ran through those paths + Which the sun sets aflame, when he of Rome + Sees it ’twixt Sardes and Corsicans go down; + +And that patrician shade, for whom is named + Pietola more than any Mantuan town, + Had laid aside the burden of my lading; + +Whence I, who reason manifest and plain + In answer to my questions had received, + Stood like a man in drowsy reverie. + +But taken from me was this drowsiness + Suddenly by a people, that behind + Our backs already had come round to us. + +And as, of old, Ismenus and Asopus + Beside them saw at night the rush and throng, + If but the Thebans were in need of Bacchus, + +So they along that circle curve their step, + From what I saw of those approaching us, + Who by good-will and righteous love are ridden. + +Full soon they were upon us, because running + Moved onward all that mighty multitude, + And two in the advance cried out, lamenting, + +“Mary in haste unto the mountain ran, + And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda, + Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain.” + +“Quick! quick! so that the time may not be lost + By little love!” forthwith the others cried, + “For ardour in well-doing freshens grace!” + +“O folk, in whom an eager fervour now + Supplies perhaps delay and negligence, + Put by you in well-doing, through lukewarmness, + +This one who lives, and truly I lie not, + Would fain go up, if but the sun relight us; + So tell us where the passage nearest is.” + +These were the words of him who was my Guide; + And some one of those spirits said: “Come on + Behind us, and the opening shalt thou find; + +So full of longing are we to move onward, + That stay we cannot; therefore pardon us, + If thou for churlishness our justice take. + +I was San Zeno’s Abbot at Verona, + Under the empire of good Barbarossa, + Of whom still sorrowing Milan holds discourse; + +And he has one foot in the grave already, + Who shall erelong lament that monastery, + And sorry be of having there had power, + +Because his son, in his whole body sick, + And worse in mind, and who was evil-born, + He put into the place of its true pastor.” + +If more he said, or silent was, I know not, + He had already passed so far beyond us; + But this I heard, and to retain it pleased me. + +And he who was in every need my succour + Said: “Turn thee hitherward; see two of them + Come fastening upon slothfulness their teeth.” + +In rear of all they shouted: “Sooner were + The people dead to whom the sea was opened, + Than their inheritors the Jordan saw; + +And those who the fatigue did not endure + Unto the issue, with Anchises’ son, + Themselves to life withouten glory offered.” + +Then when from us so separated were + Those shades, that they no longer could be seen, + Within me a new thought did entrance find, + +Whence others many and diverse were born; + And so I lapsed from one into another, + That in a reverie mine eyes I closed, + +And meditation into dream transmuted. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XIX + + +It was the hour when the diurnal heat + No more can warm the coldness of the moon, + Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn, + +When geomancers their Fortuna Major + See in the orient before the dawn + Rise by a path that long remains not dim, + +There came to me in dreams a stammering woman, + Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted, + With hands dissevered and of sallow hue. + +I looked at her; and as the sun restores + The frigid members which the night benumbs, + Even thus my gaze did render voluble + +Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter + In little while, and the lost countenance + As love desires it so in her did colour. + +When in this wise she had her speech unloosed, + She ’gan to sing so, that with difficulty + Could I have turned my thoughts away from her. + +“I am,” she sang, “I am the Siren sweet + Who mariners amid the main unman, + So full am I of pleasantness to hear. + +I drew Ulysses from his wandering way + Unto my song, and he who dwells with me + Seldom departs so wholly I content him.” + +Her mouth was not yet closed again, before + Appeared a Lady saintly and alert + Close at my side to put her to confusion. + +“Virgilius, O Virgilius! who is this?” + Sternly she said; and he was drawing near + With eyes still fixed upon that modest one. + +She seized the other and in front laid open, + Rending her garments, and her belly showed me; + This waked me with the stench that issued from it. + +I turned mine eyes, and good Virgilius said: + “At least thrice have I called thee; rise and come; + Find we the opening by which thou mayst enter.” + +I rose; and full already of high day + Were all the circles of the Sacred Mountain, + And with the new sun at our back we went. + +Following behind him, I my forehead bore + Like unto one who has it laden with thought, + Who makes himself the half arch of a bridge, + +When I heard say, “Come, here the passage is,” + Spoken in a manner gentle and benign, + Such as we hear not in this mortal region. + +With open wings, which of a swan appeared, + Upward he turned us who thus spake to us, + Between the two walls of the solid granite. + +He moved his pinions afterwards and fanned us, + Affirming those ‘qui lugent’ to be blessed, + For they shall have their souls with comfort filled. + +“What aileth thee, that aye to earth thou gazest?” + To me my Guide began to say, we both + Somewhat beyond the Angel having mounted. + +And I: “With such misgiving makes me go + A vision new, which bends me to itself, + So that I cannot from the thought withdraw me.” + +“Didst thou behold,” he said, “that old enchantress, + Who sole above us henceforth is lamented? + Didst thou behold how man is freed from her? + +Suffice it thee, and smite earth with thy heels, + Thine eyes lift upward to the lure, that whirls + The Eternal King with revolutions vast.” + +Even as the hawk, that first his feet surveys, + Then turns him to the call and stretches forward, + Through the desire of food that draws him thither, + +Such I became, and such, as far as cleaves + The rock to give a way to him who mounts, + Went on to where the circling doth begin. + +On the fifth circle when I had come forth, + People I saw upon it who were weeping, + Stretched prone upon the ground, all downward turned. + +“Adhaesit pavimento anima mea,” + I heard them say with sighings so profound, + That hardly could the words be understood. + +“O ye elect of God, whose sufferings + Justice and Hope both render less severe, + Direct ye us towards the high ascents.” + +“If ye are come secure from this prostration, + And wish to find the way most speedily, + Let your right hands be evermore outside.” + +Thus did the Poet ask, and thus was answered + By them somewhat in front of us; whence I + In what was spoken divined the rest concealed, + +And unto my Lord’s eyes mine eyes I turned; + Whence he assented with a cheerful sign + To what the sight of my desire implored. + +When of myself I could dispose at will, + Above that creature did I draw myself, + Whose words before had caused me to take note, + +Saying: “O Spirit, in whom weeping ripens + That without which to God we cannot turn, + Suspend awhile for me thy greater care. + +Who wast thou, and why are your backs turned upwards, + Tell me, and if thou wouldst that I procure thee + Anything there whence living I departed.” + +And he to me: “Wherefore our backs the heaven + Turns to itself, know shalt thou; but beforehand + ‘Scias quod ego fui successor Petri.’ + +Between Siestri and Chiaveri descends + A river beautiful, and of its name + The title of my blood its summit makes. + +A month and little more essayed I how + Weighs the great cloak on him from mire who keeps it, + For all the other burdens seem a feather. + +Tardy, ah woe is me! was my conversion; + But when the Roman Shepherd I was made, + Then I discovered life to be a lie. + +I saw that there the heart was not at rest, + Nor farther in that life could one ascend; + Whereby the love of this was kindled in me. + +Until that time a wretched soul and parted + From God was I, and wholly avaricious; + Now, as thou seest, I here am punished for it. + +What avarice does is here made manifest + In the purgation of these souls converted, + And no more bitter pain the Mountain has. + +Even as our eye did not uplift itself + Aloft, being fastened upon earthly things, + So justice here has merged it in the earth. + +As avarice had extinguished our affection + For every good, whereby was action lost, + So justice here doth hold us in restraint, + +Bound and imprisoned by the feet and hands; + And so long as it pleases the just Lord + Shall we remain immovable and prostrate.” + +I on my knees had fallen, and wished to speak; + But even as I began, and he was ’ware, + Only by listening, of my reverence, + +“What cause,” he said, “has downward bent thee thus?” + And I to him: “For your own dignity, + Standing, my conscience stung me with remorse.” + +“Straighten thy legs, and upward raise thee, brother,” + He answered: “Err not, fellow-servant am I + With thee and with the others to one power. + +If e’er that holy, evangelic sound, + Which sayeth ‘neque nubent,’ thou hast heard, + Well canst thou see why in this wise I speak. + +Now go; no longer will I have thee linger, + Because thy stay doth incommode my weeping, + With which I ripen that which thou hast said. + +On earth I have a grandchild named Alagia, + Good in herself, unless indeed our house + Malevolent may make her by example, + +And she alone remains to me on earth.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XX + + +Ill strives the will against a better will; + Therefore, to pleasure him, against my pleasure + I drew the sponge not saturate from the water. + +Onward I moved, and onward moved my Leader, + Through vacant places, skirting still the rock, + As on a wall close to the battlements; + +For they that through their eyes pour drop by drop + The malady which all the world pervades, + On the other side too near the verge approach. + +Accursed mayst thou be, thou old she-wolf, + That more than all the other beasts hast prey, + Because of hunger infinitely hollow! + +O heaven, in whose gyrations some appear + To think conditions here below are changed, + When will he come through whom she shall depart? + +Onward we went with footsteps slow and scarce, + And I attentive to the shades I heard + Piteously weeping and bemoaning them; + +And I by peradventure heard “Sweet Mary!” + Uttered in front of us amid the weeping + Even as a woman does who is in child-birth; + +And in continuance: “How poor thou wast + Is manifested by that hostelry + Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.” + +Thereafterward I heard: “O good Fabricius, + Virtue with poverty didst thou prefer + To the possession of great wealth with vice.” + +So pleasurable were these words to me + That I drew farther onward to have knowledge + Touching that spirit whence they seemed to come. + +He furthermore was speaking of the largess + Which Nicholas unto the maidens gave, + In order to conduct their youth to honour. + +“O soul that dost so excellently speak, + Tell me who wast thou,” said I, “and why only + Thou dost renew these praises well deserved? + +Not without recompense shall be thy word, + If I return to finish the short journey + Of that life which is flying to its end.” + +And he: “I’ll tell thee, not for any comfort + I may expect from earth, but that so much + Grace shines in thee or ever thou art dead. + +I was the root of that malignant plant + Which overshadows all the Christian world, + So that good fruit is seldom gathered from it; + +But if Douay and Ghent, and Lille and Bruges + Had Power, soon vengeance would be taken on it; + And this I pray of Him who judges all. + +Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth; + From me were born the Louises and Philips, + By whom in later days has France been governed. + +I was the son of a Parisian butcher, + What time the ancient kings had perished all, + Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray. + +I found me grasping in my hands the rein + Of the realm’s government, and so great power + Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding, + +That to the widowed diadem promoted + The head of mine own offspring was, from whom + The consecrated bones of these began. + +So long as the great dowry of Provence + Out of my blood took not the sense of shame, + ’Twas little worth, but still it did no harm. + +Then it began with falsehood and with force + Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends, + Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony. + +Charles came to Italy, and for amends + A victim made of Conradin, and then + Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends. + +A time I see, not very distant now, + Which draweth forth another Charles from France, + The better to make known both him and his. + +Unarmed he goes, and only with the lance + That Judas jousted with; and that he thrusts + So that he makes the paunch of Florence burst. + +He thence not land, but sin and infamy, + Shall gain, so much more grievous to himself + As the more light such damage he accounts. + +The other, now gone forth, ta’en in his ship, + See I his daughter sell, and chaffer for her + As corsairs do with other female slaves. + +What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us, + Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn, + It careth not for its own proper flesh? + +That less may seem the future ill and past, + I see the flower-de-luce Alagna enter, + And Christ in his own Vicar captive made. + +I see him yet another time derided; + I see renewed the vinegar and gall, + And between living thieves I see him slain. + +I see the modern Pilate so relentless, + This does not sate him, but without decretal + He to the temple bears his sordid sails! + +When, O my Lord! shall I be joyful made + By looking on the vengeance which, concealed, + Makes sweet thine anger in thy secrecy? + +What I was saying of that only bride + Of the Holy Ghost, and which occasioned thee + To turn towards me for some commentary, + +So long has been ordained to all our prayers + As the day lasts; but when the night comes on, + Contrary sound we take instead thereof. + +At that time we repeat Pygmalion, + Of whom a traitor, thief, and parricide + Made his insatiable desire of gold; + +And the misery of avaricious Midas, + That followed his inordinate demand, + At which forevermore one needs but laugh. + +The foolish Achan each one then records, + And how he stole the spoils; so that the wrath + Of Joshua still appears to sting him here. + +Then we accuse Sapphira with her husband, + We laud the hoof-beats Heliodorus had, + And the whole mount in infamy encircles + +Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus. + Here finally is cried: ‘O Crassus, tell us, + For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?’ + +Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low, + According to desire of speech, that spurs us + To greater now and now to lesser pace. + +But in the good that here by day is talked of, + Erewhile alone I was not; yet near by + No other person lifted up his voice.” + +From him already we departed were, + And made endeavour to o’ercome the road + As much as was permitted to our power, + +When I perceived, like something that is falling, + The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me, + As seizes him who to his death is going. + +Certes so violently shook not Delos, + Before Latona made her nest therein + To give birth to the two eyes of the heaven. + +Then upon all sides there began a cry, + Such that the Master drew himself towards me, + Saying, “Fear not, while I am guiding thee.” + +“Gloria in excelsis Deo,” all + Were saying, from what near I comprehended, + Where it was possible to hear the cry. + +We paused immovable and in suspense, + Even as the shepherds who first heard that song, + Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished. + +Then we resumed again our holy path, + Watching the shades that lay upon the ground, + Already turned to their accustomed plaint. + +No ignorance ever with so great a strife + Had rendered me importunate to know, + If erreth not in this my memory, + +As meditating then I seemed to have; + Nor out of haste to question did I dare, + Nor of myself I there could aught perceive; + +So I went onward timorous and thoughtful. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXI + + +The natural thirst, that ne’er is satisfied + Excepting with the water for whose grace + The woman of Samaria besought, + +Put me in travail, and haste goaded me + Along the encumbered path behind my Leader + And I was pitying that righteous vengeance; + +And lo! in the same manner as Luke writeth + That Christ appeared to two upon the way + From the sepulchral cave already risen, + +A shade appeared to us, and came behind us, + Down gazing on the prostrate multitude, + Nor were we ware of it, until it spake, + +Saying, “My brothers, may God give you peace!” + We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius rendered + To him the countersign thereto conforming. + +Thereon began he: “In the blessed council, + Thee may the court veracious place in peace, + That me doth banish in eternal exile!” + +“How,” said he, and the while we went with speed, + “If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high, + Who up his stairs so far has guided you?” + +And said my Teacher: “If thou note the marks + Which this one bears, and which the Angel traces + Well shalt thou see he with the good must reign. + +But because she who spinneth day and night + For him had not yet drawn the distaff off, + Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts, + +His soul, which is thy sister and my own, + In coming upwards could not come alone, + By reason that it sees not in our fashion. + +Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat + Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him + As far on as my school has power to lead. + +But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder + Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together + All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?” + +In asking he so hit the very eye + Of my desire, that merely with the hope + My thirst became the less unsatisfied. + +“Naught is there,” he began, “that without order + May the religion of the mountain feel, + Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom. + +Free is it here from every permutation; + What from itself heaven in itself receiveth + Can be of this the cause, and naught beside; + +Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow, + Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls + Than the short, little stairway of three steps. + +Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied, + Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas, + That often upon earth her region shifts; + +No arid vapour any farther rises + Than to the top of the three steps I spake of, + Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet. + +Lower down perchance it trembles less or more, + But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden + I know not how, up here it never trembled. + +It trembles here, whenever any soul + Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves + To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it. + +Of purity the will alone gives proof, + Which, being wholly free to change its convent, + Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly. + +First it wills well; but the desire permits not, + Which divine justice with the self-same will + There was to sin, upon the torment sets. + +And I, who have been lying in this pain + Five hundred years and more, but just now felt + A free volition for a better seat. + +Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious + Spirits along the mountain rendering praise + Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards.” + +So said he to him; and since we enjoy + As much in drinking as the thirst is great, + I could not say how much it did me good. + +And the wise Leader: “Now I see the net + That snares you here, and how ye are set free, + Why the earth quakes, and wherefore ye rejoice. + +Now who thou wast be pleased that I may know; + And why so many centuries thou hast here + Been lying, let me gather from thy words.” + +“In days when the good Titus, with the aid + Of the supremest King, avenged the wounds + Whence issued forth the blood by Judas sold, + +Under the name that most endures and honours, + Was I on earth,” that spirit made reply, + “Greatly renowned, but not with faith as yet. + +My vocal spirit was so sweet, that Rome + Me, a Thoulousian, drew unto herself, + Where I deserved to deck my brows with myrtle. + +Statius the people name me still on earth; + I sang of Thebes, and then of great Achilles; + But on the way fell with my second burden. + +The seeds unto my ardour were the sparks + Of that celestial flame which heated me, + Whereby more than a thousand have been fired; + +Of the Aeneid speak I, which to me + A mother was, and was my nurse in song; + Without this weighed I not a drachma’s weight. + +And to have lived upon the earth what time + Virgilius lived, I would accept one sun + More than I must ere issuing from my ban.” + +These words towards me made Virgilius turn + With looks that in their silence said, “Be silent!” + But yet the power that wills cannot do all things; + +For tears and laughter are such pursuivants + Unto the passion from which each springs forth, + In the most truthful least the will they follow. + +I only smiled, as one who gives the wink; + Whereat the shade was silent, and it gazed + Into mine eyes, where most expression dwells; + +And, “As thou well mayst consummate a labour + So great,” it said, “why did thy face just now + Display to me the lightning of a smile?” + +Now am I caught on this side and on that; + One keeps me silent, one to speak conjures me, + Wherefore I sigh, and I am understood. + +“Speak,” said my Master, “and be not afraid + Of speaking, but speak out, and say to him + What he demands with such solicitude.” + +Whence I: “Thou peradventure marvellest, + O antique spirit, at the smile I gave; + But I will have more wonder seize upon thee. + +This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine, + Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learn + To sing aloud of men and of the Gods. + +If other cause thou to my smile imputedst, + Abandon it as false, and trust it was + Those words which thou hast spoken concerning him.” + +Already he was stooping to embrace + My Teacher’s feet; but he said to him: “Brother, + Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest.” + +And he uprising: “Now canst thou the sum + Of love which warms me to thee comprehend, + When this our vanity I disremember, + +Treating a shadow as substantial thing.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXII + + +Already was the Angel left behind us, + The Angel who to the sixth round had turned us, + Having erased one mark from off my face; + +And those who have in justice their desire + Had said to us, “Beati,” in their voices, + With “sitio,” and without more ended it. + +And I, more light than through the other passes, + Went onward so, that without any labour + I followed upward the swift-footed spirits; + +When thus Virgilius began: “The love + Kindled by virtue aye another kindles, + Provided outwardly its flame appear. + +Hence from the hour that Juvenal descended + Among us into the infernal Limbo, + Who made apparent to me thy affection, + +My kindliness towards thee was as great + As ever bound one to an unseen person, + So that these stairs will now seem short to me. + +But tell me, and forgive me as a friend, + If too great confidence let loose the rein, + And as a friend now hold discourse with me; + +How was it possible within thy breast + For avarice to find place, ’mid so much wisdom + As thou wast filled with by thy diligence?” + +These words excited Statius at first + Somewhat to laughter; afterward he answered: + “Each word of thine is love’s dear sign to me. + +Verily oftentimes do things appear + Which give fallacious matter to our doubts, + Instead of the true causes which are hidden! + +Thy question shows me thy belief to be + That I was niggard in the other life, + It may be from the circle where I was; + +Therefore know thou, that avarice was removed + Too far from me; and this extravagance + Thousands of lunar periods have punished. + +And were it not that I my thoughts uplifted, + When I the passage heard where thou exclaimest, + As if indignant, unto human nature, + +‘To what impellest thou not, O cursed hunger + Of gold, the appetite of mortal men?’ + Revolving I should feel the dismal joustings. + +Then I perceived the hands could spread too wide + Their wings in spending, and repented me + As well of that as of my other sins; + +How many with shorn hair shall rise again + Because of ignorance, which from this sin + Cuts off repentance living and in death! + +And know that the transgression which rebuts + By direct opposition any sin + Together with it here its verdure dries. + +Therefore if I have been among that folk + Which mourns its avarice, to purify me, + For its opposite has this befallen me.” + +“Now when thou sangest the relentless weapons + Of the twofold affliction of Jocasta,” + The singer of the Songs Bucolic said, + +“From that which Clio there with thee preludes, + It does not seem that yet had made thee faithful + That faith without which no good works suffice. + +If this be so, what candles or what sun + Scattered thy darkness so that thou didst trim + Thy sails behind the Fisherman thereafter?” + +And he to him: “Thou first directedst me + Towards Parnassus, in its grots to drink, + And first concerning God didst me enlighten. + +Thou didst as he who walketh in the night, + Who bears his light behind, which helps him not, + But wary makes the persons after him, + +When thou didst say: ‘The age renews itself, + Justice returns, and man’s primeval time, + And a new progeny descends from heaven.’ + +Through thee I Poet was, through thee a Christian; + But that thou better see what I design, + To colour it will I extend my hand. + +Already was the world in every part + Pregnant with the true creed, disseminated + By messengers of the eternal kingdom; + +And thy assertion, spoken of above, + With the new preachers was in unison; + Whence I to visit them the custom took. + +Then they became so holy in my sight, + That, when Domitian persecuted them, + Not without tears of mine were their laments; + +And all the while that I on earth remained, + Them I befriended, and their upright customs + Made me disparage all the other sects. + +And ere I led the Greeks unto the rivers + Of Thebes, in poetry, I was baptized, + But out of fear was covertly a Christian, + +For a long time professing paganism; + And this lukewarmness caused me the fourth circle + To circuit round more than four centuries. + +Thou, therefore, who hast raised the covering + That hid from me whatever good I speak of, + While in ascending we have time to spare, + +Tell me, in what place is our friend Terentius, + Caecilius, Plautus, Varro, if thou knowest; + Tell me if they are damned, and in what alley.” + +“These, Persius and myself, and others many,” + Replied my Leader, “with that Grecian are + Whom more than all the rest the Muses suckled, + +In the first circle of the prison blind; + Ofttimes we of the mountain hold discourse + Which has our nurses ever with itself. + +Euripides is with us, Antiphon, + Simonides, Agatho, and many other + Greeks who of old their brows with laurel decked. + +There some of thine own people may be seen, + Antigone, Deiphile and Argia, + And there Ismene mournful as of old. + +There she is seen who pointed out Langia; + There is Tiresias’ daughter, and there Thetis, + And there Deidamia with her sisters.” + +Silent already were the poets both, + Attent once more in looking round about, + From the ascent and from the walls released; + +And four handmaidens of the day already + Were left behind, and at the pole the fifth + Was pointing upward still its burning horn, + +What time my Guide: “I think that tow’rds the edge + Our dexter shoulders it behoves us turn, + Circling the mount as we are wont to do.” + +Thus in that region custom was our ensign; + And we resumed our way with less suspicion + For the assenting of that worthy soul + +They in advance went on, and I alone + Behind them, and I listened to their speech, + Which gave me lessons in the art of song. + +But soon their sweet discourses interrupted + A tree which midway in the road we found, + With apples sweet and grateful to the smell. + +And even as a fir-tree tapers upward + From bough to bough, so downwardly did that; + I think in order that no one might climb it. + +On that side where our pathway was enclosed + Fell from the lofty rock a limpid water, + And spread itself abroad upon the leaves. + +The Poets twain unto the tree drew near, + And from among the foliage a voice + Cried: “Of this food ye shall have scarcity.” + +Then said: “More thoughtful Mary was of making + The marriage feast complete and honourable, + Than of her mouth which now for you responds; + +And for their drink the ancient Roman women + With water were content; and Daniel + Disparaged food, and understanding won. + +The primal age was beautiful as gold; + Acorns it made with hunger savorous, + And nectar every rivulet with thirst. + +Honey and locusts were the aliments + That fed the Baptist in the wilderness; + Whence he is glorious, and so magnified + +As by the Evangel is revealed to you.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXIII + + +The while among the verdant leaves mine eyes + I riveted, as he is wont to do + Who wastes his life pursuing little birds, + +My more than Father said unto me: “Son, + Come now; because the time that is ordained us + More usefully should be apportioned out.” + +I turned my face and no less soon my steps + Unto the Sages, who were speaking so + They made the going of no cost to me; + +And lo! were heard a song and a lament, + “Labia mea, Domine,” in fashion + Such that delight and dolence it brought forth. + +“O my sweet Father, what is this I hear?” + Began I; and he answered: “Shades that go + Perhaps the knot unloosing of their debt.” + +In the same way that thoughtful pilgrims do, + Who, unknown people on the road o’ertaking, + Turn themselves round to them, and do not stop, + +Even thus, behind us with a swifter motion + Coming and passing onward, gazed upon us + A crowd of spirits silent and devout. + +Each in his eyes was dark and cavernous, + Pallid in face, and so emaciate + That from the bones the skin did shape itself. + +I do not think that so to merest rind + Could Erisichthon have been withered up + By famine, when most fear he had of it. + +Thinking within myself I said: “Behold, + This is the folk who lost Jerusalem, + When Mary made a prey of her own son.” + +Their sockets were like rings without the gems; + Whoever in the face of men reads ‘omo’ + Might well in these have recognised the ‘m.’ + +Who would believe the odour of an apple, + Begetting longing, could consume them so, + And that of water, without knowing how? + +I still was wondering what so famished them, + For the occasion not yet manifest + Of their emaciation and sad squalor; + +And lo! from out the hollow of his head + His eyes a shade turned on me, and looked keenly; + Then cried aloud: “What grace to me is this?” + +Never should I have known him by his look; + But in his voice was evident to me + That which his aspect had suppressed within it. + +This spark within me wholly re-enkindled + My recognition of his altered face, + And I recalled the features of Forese. + +“Ah, do not look at this dry leprosy,” + Entreated he, “which doth my skin discolour, + Nor at default of flesh that I may have; + +But tell me truth of thee, and who are those + Two souls, that yonder make for thee an escort; + Do not delay in speaking unto me.” + +“That face of thine, which dead I once bewept, + Gives me for weeping now no lesser grief,” + I answered him, “beholding it so changed! + +But tell me, for God’s sake, what thus denudes you? + Make me not speak while I am marvelling, + For ill speaks he who’s full of other longings.” + +And he to me: “From the eternal council + Falls power into the water and the tree + Behind us left, whereby I grow so thin. + +All of this people who lamenting sing, + For following beyond measure appetite + In hunger and thirst are here re-sanctified. + +Desire to eat and drink enkindles in us + The scent that issues from the apple-tree, + And from the spray that sprinkles o’er the verdure; + +And not a single time alone, this ground + Encompassing, is refreshed our pain,— + I say our pain, and ought to say our solace,— + +For the same wish doth lead us to the tree + Which led the Christ rejoicing to say ‘Eli,’ + When with his veins he liberated us.” + +And I to him: “Forese, from that day + When for a better life thou changedst worlds, + Up to this time five years have not rolled round. + +If sooner were the power exhausted in thee + Of sinning more, than thee the hour surprised + Of that good sorrow which to God reweds us, + +How hast thou come up hitherward already? + I thought to find thee down there underneath, + Where time for time doth restitution make.” + +And he to me: “Thus speedily has led me + To drink of the sweet wormwood of these torments, + My Nella with her overflowing tears; + +She with her prayers devout and with her sighs + Has drawn me from the coast where one where one awaits, + And from the other circles set me free. + +So much more dear and pleasing is to God + My little widow, whom so much I loved, + As in good works she is the more alone; + +For the Barbagia of Sardinia + By far more modest in its women is + Than the Barbagia I have left her in. + +O brother sweet, what wilt thou have me say? + A future time is in my sight already, + To which this hour will not be very old, + +When from the pulpit shall be interdicted + To the unblushing womankind of Florence + To go about displaying breast and paps. + +What savages were e’er, what Saracens, + Who stood in need, to make them covered go, + Of spiritual or other discipline? + +But if the shameless women were assured + Of what swift Heaven prepares for them, already + Wide open would they have their mouths to howl; + +For if my foresight here deceive me not, + They shall be sad ere he has bearded cheeks + Who now is hushed to sleep with lullaby. + +O brother, now no longer hide thee from me; + See that not only I, but all these people + Are gazing there, where thou dost veil the sun.” + +Whence I to him: “If thou bring back to mind + What thou with me hast been and I with thee, + The present memory will be grievous still. + +Out of that life he turned me back who goes + In front of me, two days agone when round + The sister of him yonder showed herself,” + +And to the sun I pointed. “Through the deep + Night of the truly dead has this one led me, + With this true flesh, that follows after him. + +Thence his encouragements have led me up, + Ascending and still circling round the mount + That you doth straighten, whom the world made crooked. + +He says that he will bear me company, + Till I shall be where Beatrice will be; + There it behoves me to remain without him. + +This is Virgilius, who thus says to me,” + And him I pointed at; “the other is + That shade for whom just now shook every slope + +Your realm, that from itself discharges him.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXIV + + +Nor speech the going, nor the going that + Slackened; but talking we went bravely on, + Even as a vessel urged by a good wind. + +And shadows, that appeared things doubly dead, + From out the sepulchres of their eyes betrayed + Wonder at me, aware that I was living. + +And I, continuing my colloquy, + Said: “Peradventure he goes up more slowly + Than he would do, for other people’s sake. + +But tell me, if thou knowest, where is Piccarda; + Tell me if any one of note I see + Among this folk that gazes at me so.” + +“My sister, who, ’twixt beautiful and good, + I know not which was more, triumphs rejoicing + Already in her crown on high Olympus.” + +So said he first, and then: “’Tis not forbidden + To name each other here, so milked away + Is our resemblance by our dieting. + +This,” pointing with his finger, “is Buonagiunta, + Buonagiunta, of Lucca; and that face + Beyond him there, more peaked than the others, + +Has held the holy Church within his arms; + From Tours was he, and purges by his fasting + Bolsena’s eels and the Vernaccia wine.” + +He named me many others one by one; + And all contented seemed at being named, + So that for this I saw not one dark look. + +I saw for hunger bite the empty air + Ubaldin dalla Pila, and Boniface, + Who with his crook had pastured many people. + +I saw Messer Marchese, who had leisure + Once at Forli for drinking with less dryness, + And he was one who ne’er felt satisfied. + +But as he does who scans, and then doth prize + One more than others, did I him of Lucca, + Who seemed to take most cognizance of me. + +He murmured, and I know not what Gentucca + From that place heard I, where he felt the wound + Of justice, that doth macerate them so. + +“O soul,” I said, “that seemest so desirous + To speak with me, do so that I may hear thee, + And with thy speech appease thyself and me.” + +“A maid is born, and wears not yet the veil,” + Began he, “who to thee shall pleasant make + My city, howsoever men may blame it. + +Thou shalt go on thy way with this prevision; + If by my murmuring thou hast been deceived, + True things hereafter will declare it to thee. + +But say if him I here behold, who forth + Evoked the new-invented rhymes, beginning, + ‘Ladies, that have intelligence of love?’” + +And I to him: “One am I, who, whenever + Love doth inspire me, note, and in that measure + Which he within me dictates, singing go.” + +“O brother, now I see,” he said, “the knot + Which me, the Notary, and Guittone held + Short of the sweet new style that now I hear. + +I do perceive full clearly how your pens + Go closely following after him who dictates, + Which with our own forsooth came not to pass; + +And he who sets himself to go beyond, + No difference sees from one style to another;” + And as if satisfied, he held his peace. + +Even as the birds, that winter tow’rds the Nile, + Sometimes into a phalanx form themselves, + Then fly in greater haste, and go in file; + +In such wise all the people who were there, + Turning their faces, hurried on their steps, + Both by their leanness and their wishes light. + +And as a man, who weary is with trotting, + Lets his companions onward go, and walks, + Until he vents the panting of his chest; + +So did Forese let the holy flock + Pass by, and came with me behind it, saying, + “When will it be that I again shall see thee?” + +“How long,” I answered, “I may live, I know not; + Yet my return will not so speedy be, + But I shall sooner in desire arrive; + +Because the place where I was set to live + From day to day of good is more depleted, + And unto dismal ruin seems ordained.” + +“Now go,” he said, “for him most guilty of it + At a beast’s tail behold I dragged along + Towards the valley where is no repentance. + +Faster at every step the beast is going, + Increasing evermore until it smites him, + And leaves the body vilely mutilated. + +Not long those wheels shall turn,” and he uplifted + His eyes to heaven, “ere shall be clear to thee + That which my speech no farther can declare. + +Now stay behind; because the time so precious + Is in this kingdom, that I lose too much + By coming onward thus abreast with thee.” + +As sometimes issues forth upon a gallop + A cavalier from out a troop that ride, + And seeks the honour of the first encounter, + +So he with greater strides departed from us; + And on the road remained I with those two, + Who were such mighty marshals of the world. + +And when before us he had gone so far + Mine eyes became to him such pursuivants + As was my understanding to his words, + +Appeared to me with laden and living boughs + Another apple-tree, and not far distant, + From having but just then turned thitherward. + +People I saw beneath it lift their hands, + And cry I know not what towards the leaves, + Like little children eager and deluded, + +Who pray, and he they pray to doth not answer, + But, to make very keen their appetite, + Holds their desire aloft, and hides it not. + +Then they departed as if undeceived; + And now we came unto the mighty tree + Which prayers and tears so manifold refuses. + +“Pass farther onward without drawing near; + The tree of which Eve ate is higher up, + And out of that one has this tree been raised.” + +Thus said I know not who among the branches; + Whereat Virgilius, Statius, and myself + Went crowding forward on the side that rises. + +“Be mindful,” said he, “of the accursed ones + Formed of the cloud-rack, who inebriate + Combated Theseus with their double breasts; + +And of the Jews who showed them soft in drinking, + Whence Gideon would not have them for companions + When he tow’rds Midian the hills descended.” + +Thus, closely pressed to one of the two borders, + On passed we, hearing sins of gluttony, + Followed forsooth by miserable gains; + +Then set at large upon the lonely road, + A thousand steps and more we onward went, + In contemplation, each without a word. + +“What go ye thinking thus, ye three alone?” + Said suddenly a voice, whereat I started + As terrified and timid beasts are wont. + +I raised my head to see who this might be, + And never in a furnace was there seen + Metals or glass so lucent and so red + +As one I saw who said: “If it may please you + To mount aloft, here it behoves you turn; + This way goes he who goeth after peace.” + +His aspect had bereft me of my sight, + So that I turned me back unto my Teachers, + Like one who goeth as his hearing guides him. + +And as, the harbinger of early dawn, + The air of May doth move and breathe out fragrance, + Impregnate all with herbage and with flowers, + +So did I feel a breeze strike in the midst + My front, and felt the moving of the plumes + That breathed around an odour of ambrosia; + +And heard it said: “Blessed are they whom grace + So much illumines, that the love of taste + Excites not in their breasts too great desire, + +Hungering at all times so far as is just.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXV + + +Now was it the ascent no hindrance brooked, + Because the sun had his meridian circle + To Taurus left, and night to Scorpio; + +Wherefore as doth a man who tarries not, + But goes his way, whate’er to him appear, + If of necessity the sting transfix him, + +In this wise did we enter through the gap, + Taking the stairway, one before the other, + Which by its narrowness divides the climbers. + +And as the little stork that lifts its wing + With a desire to fly, and does not venture + To leave the nest, and lets it downward droop, + +Even such was I, with the desire of asking + Kindled and quenched, unto the motion coming + He makes who doth address himself to speak. + +Not for our pace, though rapid it might be, + My father sweet forbore, but said: “Let fly + The bow of speech thou to the barb hast drawn.” + +With confidence I opened then my mouth, + And I began: “How can one meagre grow + There where the need of nutriment applies not?” + +“If thou wouldst call to mind how Meleager + Was wasted by the wasting of a brand, + This would not,” said he, “be to thee so sour; + +And wouldst thou think how at each tremulous motion + Trembles within a mirror your own image; + That which seems hard would mellow seem to thee. + +But that thou mayst content thee in thy wish + Lo Statius here; and him I call and pray + He now will be the healer of thy wounds.” + +“If I unfold to him the eternal vengeance,” + Responded Statius, “where thou present art, + Be my excuse that I can naught deny thee.” + +Then he began: “Son, if these words of mine + Thy mind doth contemplate and doth receive, + They’ll be thy light unto the How thou sayest. + +The perfect blood, which never is drunk up + Into the thirsty veins, and which remaineth + Like food that from the table thou removest, + +Takes in the heart for all the human members + Virtue informative, as being that + Which to be changed to them goes through the veins + +Again digest, descends it where ’tis better + Silent to be than say; and then drops thence + Upon another’s blood in natural vase. + +There one together with the other mingles, + One to be passive meant, the other active + By reason of the perfect place it springs from; + +And being conjoined, begins to operate, + Coagulating first, then vivifying + What for its matter it had made consistent. + +The active virtue, being made a soul + As of a plant, (in so far different, + This on the way is, that arrived already,) + +Then works so much, that now it moves and feels + Like a sea-fungus, and then undertakes + To organize the powers whose seed it is. + +Now, Son, dilates and now distends itself + The virtue from the generator’s heart, + Where nature is intent on all the members. + +But how from animal it man becomes + Thou dost not see as yet; this is a point + Which made a wiser man than thou once err + +So far, that in his doctrine separate + He made the soul from possible intellect, + For he no organ saw by this assumed. + +Open thy breast unto the truth that’s coming, + And know that, just as soon as in the foetus + The articulation of the brain is perfect, + +The primal Motor turns to it well pleased + At so great art of nature, and inspires + A spirit new with virtue all replete, + +Which what it finds there active doth attract + Into its substance, and becomes one soul, + Which lives, and feels, and on itself revolves. + +And that thou less may wonder at my word, + Behold the sun’s heat, which becometh wine, + Joined to the juice that from the vine distils. + +Whenever Lachesis has no more thread, + It separates from the flesh, and virtually + Bears with itself the human and divine; + +The other faculties are voiceless all; + The memory, the intelligence, and the will + In action far more vigorous than before. + +Without a pause it falleth of itself + In marvellous way on one shore or the other; + There of its roads it first is cognizant. + +Soon as the place there circumscribeth it, + The virtue informative rays round about, + As, and as much as, in the living members. + +And even as the air, when full of rain, + By alien rays that are therein reflected, + With divers colours shows itself adorned, + +So there the neighbouring air doth shape itself + Into that form which doth impress upon it + Virtually the soul that has stood still. + +And then in manner of the little flame, + Which followeth the fire where’er it shifts, + After the spirit followeth its new form. + +Since afterwards it takes from this its semblance, + It is called shade; and thence it organizes + Thereafter every sense, even to the sight. + +Thence is it that we speak, and thence we laugh; + Thence is it that we form the tears and sighs, + That on the mountain thou mayhap hast heard. + +According as impress us our desires + And other affections, so the shade is shaped, + And this is cause of what thou wonderest at.” + +And now unto the last of all the circles + Had we arrived, and to the right hand turned, + And were attentive to another care. + +There the embankment shoots forth flames of fire, + And upward doth the cornice breathe a blast + That drives them back, and from itself sequesters. + +Hence we must needs go on the open side, + And one by one; and I did fear the fire + On this side, and on that the falling down. + +My Leader said: “Along this place one ought + To keep upon the eyes a tightened rein, + Seeing that one so easily might err.” + +“Summae Deus clementiae,” in the bosom + Of the great burning chanted then I heard, + Which made me no less eager to turn round; + +And spirits saw I walking through the flame; + Wherefore I looked, to my own steps and theirs + Apportioning my sight from time to time. + +After the close which to that hymn is made, + Aloud they shouted, “Virum non cognosco;” + Then recommenced the hymn with voices low. + +This also ended, cried they: “To the wood + Diana ran, and drove forth Helice + Therefrom, who had of Venus felt the poison.” + +Then to their song returned they; then the wives + They shouted, and the husbands who were chaste. + As virtue and the marriage vow imposes. + +And I believe that them this mode suffices, + For all the time the fire is burning them; + With such care is it needful, and such food, + +That the last wound of all should be closed up. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXVI + + +While on the brink thus one before the other + We went upon our way, oft the good Master + Said: “Take thou heed! suffice it that I warn thee.” + +On the right shoulder smote me now the sun, + That, raying out, already the whole west + Changed from its azure aspect into white. + +And with my shadow did I make the flame + Appear more red; and even to such a sign + Shades saw I many, as they went, give heed. + +This was the cause that gave them a beginning + To speak of me; and to themselves began they + To say: “That seems not a factitious body!” + +Then towards me, as far as they could come, + Came certain of them, always with regard + Not to step forth where they would not be burned. + +“O thou who goest, not from being slower + But reverent perhaps, behind the others, + Answer me, who in thirst and fire am burning. + +Nor to me only is thine answer needful; + For all of these have greater thirst for it + Than for cold water Ethiop or Indian. + +Tell us how is it that thou makest thyself + A wall unto the sun, as if thou hadst not + Entered as yet into the net of death.” + +Thus one of them addressed me, and I straight + Should have revealed myself, were I not bent + On other novelty that then appeared. + +For through the middle of the burning road + There came a people face to face with these, + Which held me in suspense with gazing at them. + +There see I hastening upon either side + Each of the shades, and kissing one another + Without a pause, content with brief salute. + +Thus in the middle of their brown battalions + Muzzle to muzzle one ant meets another + Perchance to spy their journey or their fortune. + +No sooner is the friendly greeting ended, + Or ever the first footstep passes onward, + Each one endeavours to outcry the other; + +The new-come people: “Sodom and Gomorrah!” + The rest: “Into the cow Pasiphae enters, + So that the bull unto her lust may run!” + +Then as the cranes, that to Riphaean mountains + Might fly in part, and part towards the sands, + These of the frost, those of the sun avoidant, + +One folk is going, and the other coming, + And weeping they return to their first songs, + And to the cry that most befitteth them; + +And close to me approached, even as before, + The very same who had entreated me, + Attent to listen in their countenance. + +I, who their inclination twice had seen, + Began: “O souls secure in the possession, + Whene’er it may be, of a state of peace, + +Neither unripe nor ripened have remained + My members upon earth, but here are with me + With their own blood and their articulations. + +I go up here to be no longer blind; + A Lady is above, who wins this grace, + Whereby the mortal through your world I bring. + +But as your greatest longing satisfied + May soon become, so that the Heaven may house you + Which full of love is, and most amply spreads, + +Tell me, that I again in books may write it, + Who are you, and what is that multitude + Which goes upon its way behind your backs?” + +Not otherwise with wonder is bewildered + The mountaineer, and staring round is dumb, + When rough and rustic to the town he goes, + +Than every shade became in its appearance; + But when they of their stupor were disburdened, + Which in high hearts is quickly quieted, + +“Blessed be thou, who of our border-lands,” + He recommenced who first had questioned us, + “Experience freightest for a better life. + +The folk that comes not with us have offended + In that for which once Caesar, triumphing, + Heard himself called in contumely, ‘Queen.’ + +Therefore they separate, exclaiming, ‘Sodom!’ + Themselves reproving, even as thou hast heard, + And add unto their burning by their shame. + +Our own transgression was hermaphrodite; + But because we observed not human law, + Following like unto beasts our appetite, + +In our opprobrium by us is read, + When we part company, the name of her + Who bestialized herself in bestial wood. + +Now knowest thou our acts, and what our crime was; + Wouldst thou perchance by name know who we are, + There is not time to tell, nor could I do it. + +Thy wish to know me shall in sooth be granted; + I’m Guido Guinicelli, and now purge me, + Having repented ere the hour extreme.” + +The same that in the sadness of Lycurgus + Two sons became, their mother re-beholding, + Such I became, but rise not to such height, + +The moment I heard name himself the father + Of me and of my betters, who had ever + Practised the sweet and gracious rhymes of love; + +And without speech and hearing thoughtfully + For a long time I went, beholding him, + Nor for the fire did I approach him nearer. + +When I was fed with looking, utterly + Myself I offered ready for his service, + With affirmation that compels belief. + +And he to me: “Thou leavest footprints such + In me, from what I hear, and so distinct, + Lethe cannot efface them, nor make dim. + +But if thy words just now the truth have sworn, + Tell me what is the cause why thou displayest + In word and look that dear thou holdest me?” + +And I to him: “Those dulcet lays of yours + Which, long as shall endure our modern fashion, + Shall make for ever dear their very ink!” + +“O brother,” said he, “he whom I point out,” + And here he pointed at a spirit in front, + “Was of the mother tongue a better smith. + +Verses of love and proses of romance, + He mastered all; and let the idiots talk, + Who think the Lemosin surpasses him. + +To clamour more than truth they turn their faces, + And in this way establish their opinion, + Ere art or reason has by them been heard. + +Thus many ancients with Guittone did, + From cry to cry still giving him applause, + Until the truth has conquered with most persons. + +Now, if thou hast such ample privilege + ’Tis granted thee to go unto the cloister + Wherein is Christ the abbot of the college, + +To him repeat for me a Paternoster, + So far as needful to us of this world, + Where power of sinning is no longer ours.” + +Then, to give place perchance to one behind, + Whom he had near, he vanished in the fire + As fish in water going to the bottom. + +I moved a little tow’rds him pointed out, + And said that to his name my own desire + An honourable place was making ready. + +He of his own free will began to say: + ‘Tan m’ abellis vostre cortes deman, + Que jeu nom’ puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire; + +Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan; + Consiros vei la passada folor, + E vei jauzen lo jorn qu’ esper denan. + +Ara vus prec per aquella valor, + Que vus condus al som de la scalina, + Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.’* + +Then hid him in the fire that purifies them. + +* So pleases me your courteous demand, + I cannot and I will not hide me from you. +I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go; + Contrite I see the folly of the past, + And joyous see the hoped-for day before me. +Therefore do I implore you, by that power + Which guides you to the summit of the stairs, + Be mindful to assuage my suffering! + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXVII + + +As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays, + In regions where his Maker shed his blood, + (The Ebro falling under lofty Libra, + +And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,) + So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing, + When the glad Angel of God appeared to us. + +Outside the flame he stood upon the verge, + And chanted forth, “Beati mundo corde,” + In voice by far more living than our own. + +Then: “No one farther goes, souls sanctified, + If first the fire bite not; within it enter, + And be not deaf unto the song beyond.” + +When we were close beside him thus he said; + Wherefore e’en such became I, when I heard him, + As he is who is put into the grave. + +Upon my clasped hands I straightened me, + Scanning the fire, and vividly recalling + The human bodies I had once seen burned. + +Towards me turned themselves my good Conductors, + And unto me Virgilius said: “My son, + Here may indeed be torment, but not death. + +Remember thee, remember! and if I + On Geryon have safely guided thee, + What shall I do now I am nearer God? + +Believe for certain, shouldst thou stand a full + Millennium in the bosom of this flame, + It could not make thee bald a single hair. + +And if perchance thou think that I deceive thee, + Draw near to it, and put it to the proof + With thine own hands upon thy garment’s hem. + +Now lay aside, now lay aside all fear, + Turn hitherward, and onward come securely;” + And I still motionless, and ’gainst my conscience! + +Seeing me stand still motionless and stubborn, + Somewhat disturbed he said: “Now look thou, Son, + ’Twixt Beatrice and thee there is this wall.” + +As at the name of Thisbe oped his lids + The dying Pyramus, and gazed upon her, + What time the mulberry became vermilion, + +Even thus, my obduracy being softened, + I turned to my wise Guide, hearing the name + That in my memory evermore is welling. + +Whereat he wagged his head, and said: “How now? + Shall we stay on this side?” then smiled as one + Does at a child who’s vanquished by an apple. + +Then into the fire in front of me he entered, + Beseeching Statius to come after me, + Who a long way before divided us. + +When I was in it, into molten glass + I would have cast me to refresh myself, + So without measure was the burning there! + +And my sweet Father, to encourage me, + Discoursing still of Beatrice went on, + Saying: “Her eyes I seem to see already!” + +A voice, that on the other side was singing, + Directed us, and we, attent alone + On that, came forth where the ascent began. + +“Venite, benedicti Patris mei,” + Sounded within a splendour, which was there + Such it o’ercame me, and I could not look. + +“The sun departs,” it added, “and night cometh; + Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps, + So long as yet the west becomes not dark.” + +Straight forward through the rock the path ascended + In such a way that I cut off the rays + Before me of the sun, that now was low. + +And of few stairs we yet had made assay, + Ere by the vanished shadow the sun’s setting + Behind us we perceived, I and my Sages. + +And ere in all its parts immeasurable + The horizon of one aspect had become, + And Night her boundless dispensation held, + +Each of us of a stair had made his bed; + Because the nature of the mount took from us + The power of climbing, more than the delight. + +Even as in ruminating passive grow + The goats, who have been swift and venturesome + Upon the mountain-tops ere they were fed, + +Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot, + Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staff + Is leaning, and in leaning tendeth them; + +And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors, + Passes the night beside his quiet flock, + Watching that no wild beast may scatter it, + +Such at that hour were we, all three of us, + I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they, + Begirt on this side and on that by rocks. + +Little could there be seen of things without; + But through that little I beheld the stars + More luminous and larger than their wont. + +Thus ruminating, and beholding these, + Sleep seized upon me,—sleep, that oftentimes + Before a deed is done has tidings of it. + +It was the hour, I think, when from the East + First on the mountain Citherea beamed, + Who with the fire of love seems always burning; + +Youthful and beautiful in dreams methought + I saw a lady walking in a meadow, + Gathering flowers; and singing she was saying: + +“Know whosoever may my name demand + That I am Leah, and go moving round + My beauteous hands to make myself a garland. + +To please me at the mirror, here I deck me, + But never does my sister Rachel leave + Her looking-glass, and sitteth all day long. + +To see her beauteous eyes as eager is she, + As I am to adorn me with my hands; + Her, seeing, and me, doing satisfies.” + +And now before the antelucan splendours + That unto pilgrims the more grateful rise, + As, home-returning, less remote they lodge, + +The darkness fled away on every side, + And slumber with it; whereupon I rose, + Seeing already the great Masters risen. + +“That apple sweet, which through so many branches + The care of mortals goeth in pursuit of, + To-day shall put in peace thy hungerings.” + +Speaking to me, Virgilius of such words + As these made use; and never were there guerdons + That could in pleasantness compare with these. + +Such longing upon longing came upon me + To be above, that at each step thereafter + For flight I felt in me the pinions growing. + +When underneath us was the stairway all + Run o’er, and we were on the highest step, + Virgilius fastened upon me his eyes, + +And said: “The temporal fire and the eternal, + Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art come + Where of myself no farther I discern. + +By intellect and art I here have brought thee; + Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth; + Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou. + +Behold the sun, that shines upon thy forehead; + Behold the grass, the flowerets, and the shrubs + Which of itself alone this land produces. + +Until rejoicing come the beauteous eyes + Which weeping caused me to come unto thee, + Thou canst sit down, and thou canst walk among them. + +Expect no more or word or sign from me; + Free and upright and sound is thy free-will, + And error were it not to do its bidding; + +Thee o’er thyself I therefore crown and mitre!” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII + + +Eager already to search in and round + The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, + Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day, + +Withouten more delay I left the bank, + Taking the level country slowly, slowly + Over the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance. + +A softly-breathing air, that no mutation + Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me + No heavier blow than of a gentle wind, + +Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous, + Did all of them bow downward toward that side + Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain; + +Yet not from their upright direction swayed, + So that the little birds upon their tops + Should leave the practice of each art of theirs; + +But with full ravishment the hours of prime, + Singing, received they in the midst of leaves, + That ever bore a burden to their rhymes, + +Such as from branch to branch goes gathering on + Through the pine forest on the shore of Chiassi, + When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. + +Already my slow steps had carried me + Into the ancient wood so far, that I + Could not perceive where I had entered it. + +And lo! my further course a stream cut off, + Which tow’rd the left hand with its little waves + Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang. + +All waters that on earth most limpid are + Would seem to have within themselves some mixture + Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, + +Although it moves on with a brown, brown current + Under the shade perpetual, that never + Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon. + +With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed + Beyond the rivulet, to look upon + The great variety of the fresh may. + +And there appeared to me (even as appears + Suddenly something that doth turn aside + Through very wonder every other thought) + +A lady all alone, who went along + Singing and culling floweret after floweret, + With which her pathway was all painted over. + +“Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of love + Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks, + Which the heart’s witnesses are wont to be, + +May the desire come unto thee to draw + Near to this river’s bank,” I said to her, + “So much that I might hear what thou art singing. + +Thou makest me remember where and what + Proserpina that moment was when lost + Her mother her, and she herself the Spring.” + +As turns herself, with feet together pressed + And to the ground, a lady who is dancing, + And hardly puts one foot before the other, + +On the vermilion and the yellow flowerets + She turned towards me, not in other wise + Than maiden who her modest eyes casts down; + +And my entreaties made to be content, + So near approaching, that the dulcet sound + Came unto me together with its meaning + +As soon as she was where the grasses are. + Bathed by the waters of the beauteous river, + To lift her eyes she granted me the boon. + +I do not think there shone so great a light + Under the lids of Venus, when transfixed + By her own son, beyond his usual custom! + +Erect upon the other bank she smiled, + Bearing full many colours in her hands, + Which that high land produces without seed. + +Apart three paces did the river make us; + But Hellespont, where Xerxes passed across, + (A curb still to all human arrogance,) + +More hatred from Leander did not suffer + For rolling between Sestos and Abydos, + Than that from me, because it oped not then. + +“Ye are new-comers; and because I smile,” + Began she, “peradventure, in this place + Elect to human nature for its nest, + +Some apprehension keeps you marvelling; + But the psalm ‘Delectasti’ giveth light + Which has the power to uncloud your intellect. + +And thou who foremost art, and didst entreat me, + Speak, if thou wouldst hear more; for I came ready + To all thy questionings, as far as needful.” + +“The water,” said I, “and the forest’s sound, + Are combating within me my new faith + In something which I heard opposed to this.” + +Whence she: “I will relate how from its cause + Proceedeth that which maketh thee to wonder, + And purge away the cloud that smites upon thee. + +The Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting, + Created man good, and this goodly place + Gave him as hansel of eternal peace. + +By his default short while he sojourned here; + By his default to weeping and to toil + He changed his innocent laughter and sweet play. + +That the disturbance which below is made + By exhalations of the land and water, + (Which far as may be follow after heat,) + +Might not upon mankind wage any war, + This mount ascended tow’rds the heaven so high, + And is exempt, from there where it is locked. + +Now since the universal atmosphere + Turns in a circuit with the primal motion + Unless the circle is broken on some side, + +Upon this height, that all is disengaged + In living ether, doth this motion strike + And make the forest sound, for it is dense; + +And so much power the stricken plant possesses + That with its virtue it impregns the air, + And this, revolving, scatters it around; + +And yonder earth, according as ’tis worthy + In self or in its clime, conceives and bears + Of divers qualities the divers trees; + +It should not seem a marvel then on earth, + This being heard, whenever any plant + Without seed manifest there taketh root. + +And thou must know, this holy table-land + In which thou art is full of every seed, + And fruit has in it never gathered there. + +The water which thou seest springs not from vein + Restored by vapour that the cold condenses, + Like to a stream that gains or loses breath; + +But issues from a fountain safe and certain, + Which by the will of God as much regains + As it discharges, open on two sides. + +Upon this side with virtue it descends, + Which takes away all memory of sin; + On that, of every good deed done restores it. + +Here Lethe, as upon the other side + Eunoe, it is called; and worketh not + If first on either side it be not tasted. + +This every other savour doth transcend; + And notwithstanding slaked so far may be + Thy thirst, that I reveal to thee no more, + +I’ll give thee a corollary still in grace, + Nor think my speech will be to thee less dear + If it spread out beyond my promise to thee. + +Those who in ancient times have feigned in song + The Age of Gold and its felicity, + Dreamed of this place perhaps upon Parnassus. + +Here was the human race in innocence; + Here evermore was Spring, and every fruit; + This is the nectar of which each one speaks.” + +Then backward did I turn me wholly round + Unto my Poets, and saw that with a smile + They had been listening to these closing words; + +Then to the beautiful lady turned mine eyes. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXIX + + +Singing like unto an enamoured lady + She, with the ending of her words, continued: + “Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata.” + +And even as Nymphs, that wandered all alone + Among the sylvan shadows, sedulous + One to avoid and one to see the sun, + +She then against the stream moved onward, going + Along the bank, and I abreast of her, + Her little steps with little steps attending. + +Between her steps and mine were not a hundred, + When equally the margins gave a turn, + In such a way, that to the East I faced. + +Nor even thus our way continued far + Before the lady wholly turned herself + Unto me, saying, “Brother, look and listen!” + +And lo! a sudden lustre ran across + On every side athwart the spacious forest, + Such that it made me doubt if it were lightning. + +But since the lightning ceases as it comes, + And that continuing brightened more and more, + Within my thought I said, “What thing is this?” + +And a delicious melody there ran + Along the luminous air, whence holy zeal + Made me rebuke the hardihood of Eve; + +For there where earth and heaven obedient were, + The woman only, and but just created, + Could not endure to stay ’neath any veil; + +Underneath which had she devoutly stayed, + I sooner should have tasted those delights + Ineffable, and for a longer time. + +While ’mid such manifold first-fruits I walked + Of the eternal pleasure all enrapt, + And still solicitous of more delights, + +In front of us like an enkindled fire + Became the air beneath the verdant boughs, + And the sweet sound as singing now was heard. + +O Virgins sacrosanct! if ever hunger, + Vigils, or cold for you I have endured, + The occasion spurs me their reward to claim! + +Now Helicon must needs pour forth for me, + And with her choir Urania must assist me, + To put in verse things difficult to think. + +A little farther on, seven trees of gold + In semblance the long space still intervening + Between ourselves and them did counterfeit; + +But when I had approached so near to them + The common object, which the sense deceives, + Lost not by distance any of its marks, + +The faculty that lends discourse to reason + Did apprehend that they were candlesticks, + And in the voices of the song “Hosanna!” + +Above them flamed the harness beautiful, + Far brighter than the moon in the serene + Of midnight, at the middle of her month. + +I turned me round, with admiration filled, + To good Virgilius, and he answered me + With visage no less full of wonderment. + +Then back I turned my face to those high things, + Which moved themselves towards us so sedately, + They had been distanced by new-wedded brides. + +The lady chid me: “Why dost thou burn only + So with affection for the living lights, + And dost not look at what comes after them?” + +Then saw I people, as behind their leaders, + Coming behind them, garmented in white, + And such a whiteness never was on earth. + +The water on my left flank was resplendent, + And back to me reflected my left side, + E’en as a mirror, if I looked therein. + +When I upon my margin had such post + That nothing but the stream divided us, + Better to see I gave my steps repose; + +And I beheld the flamelets onward go, + Leaving behind themselves the air depicted, + And they of trailing pennons had the semblance, + +So that it overhead remained distinct + With sevenfold lists, all of them of the colours + Whence the sun’s bow is made, and Delia’s girdle. + +These standards to the rearward longer were + Than was my sight; and, as it seemed to me, + Ten paces were the outermost apart. + +Under so fair a heaven as I describe + The four and twenty Elders, two by two, + Came on incoronate with flower-de-luce. + +They all of them were singing: “Blessed thou + Among the daughters of Adam art, and blessed + For evermore shall be thy loveliness.” + +After the flowers and other tender grasses + In front of me upon the other margin + Were disencumbered of that race elect, + +Even as in heaven star followeth after star, + There came close after them four animals, + Incoronate each one with verdant leaf. + +Plumed with six wings was every one of them, + The plumage full of eyes; the eyes of Argus + If they were living would be such as these. + +Reader! to trace their forms no more I waste + My rhymes; for other spendings press me so, + That I in this cannot be prodigal. + +But read Ezekiel, who depicteth them + As he beheld them from the region cold + Coming with cloud, with whirlwind, and with fire; + +And such as thou shalt find them in his pages, + Such were they here; saving that in their plumage + John is with me, and differeth from him. + +The interval between these four contained + A chariot triumphal on two wheels, + Which by a Griffin’s neck came drawn along; + +And upward he extended both his wings + Between the middle list and three and three, + So that he injured none by cleaving it. + +So high they rose that they were lost to sight; + His limbs were gold, so far as he was bird, + And white the others with vermilion mingled. + +Not only Rome with no such splendid car + E’er gladdened Africanus, or Augustus, + But poor to it that of the Sun would be,— + +That of the Sun, which swerving was burnt up + At the importunate orison of Earth, + When Jove was so mysteriously just. + +Three maidens at the right wheel in a circle + Came onward dancing; one so very red + That in the fire she hardly had been noted. + +The second was as if her flesh and bones + Had all been fashioned out of emerald; + The third appeared as snow but newly fallen. + +And now they seemed conducted by the white, + Now by the red, and from the song of her + The others took their step, or slow or swift. + +Upon the left hand four made holiday + Vested in purple, following the measure + Of one of them with three eyes m her head. + +In rear of all the group here treated of + Two old men I beheld, unlike in habit, + But like in gait, each dignified and grave. + +One showed himself as one of the disciples + Of that supreme Hippocrates, whom nature + Made for the animals she holds most dear; + +Contrary care the other manifested, + With sword so shining and so sharp, it caused + Terror to me on this side of the river. + +Thereafter four I saw of humble aspect, + And behind all an aged man alone + Walking in sleep with countenance acute. + +And like the foremost company these seven + Were habited; yet of the flower-de-luce + No garland round about the head they wore, + +But of the rose, and other flowers vermilion; + At little distance would the sight have sworn + That all were in a flame above their brows. + +And when the car was opposite to me + Thunder was heard; and all that folk august + Seemed to have further progress interdicted, + +There with the vanward ensigns standing still. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXX + + +When the Septentrion of the highest heaven + (Which never either setting knew or rising, + Nor veil of other cloud than that of sin, + +And which made every one therein aware + Of his own duty, as the lower makes + Whoever turns the helm to come to port) + +Motionless halted, the veracious people, + That came at first between it and the Griffin, + Turned themselves to the car, as to their peace. + +And one of them, as if by Heaven commissioned, + Singing, “Veni, sponsa, de Libano” + Shouted three times, and all the others after. + +Even as the Blessed at the final summons + Shall rise up quickened each one from his cavern, + Uplifting light the reinvested flesh, + +So upon that celestial chariot + A hundred rose ‘ad vocem tanti senis,’ + Ministers and messengers of life eternal. + +They all were saying, “Benedictus qui venis,” + And, scattering flowers above and round about, + “Manibus o date lilia plenis.” + +Ere now have I beheld, as day began, + The eastern hemisphere all tinged with rose, + And the other heaven with fair serene adorned; + +And the sun’s face, uprising, overshadowed + So that by tempering influence of vapours + For a long interval the eye sustained it; + +Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers + Which from those hands angelical ascended, + And downward fell again inside and out, + +Over her snow-white veil with olive cinct + Appeared a lady under a green mantle, + Vested in colour of the living flame. + +And my own spirit, that already now + So long a time had been, that in her presence + Trembling with awe it had not stood abashed, + +Without more knowledge having by mine eyes, + Through occult virtue that from her proceeded + Of ancient love the mighty influence felt. + +As soon as on my vision smote the power + Sublime, that had already pierced me through + Ere from my boyhood I had yet come forth, + +To the left hand I turned with that reliance + With which the little child runs to his mother, + When he has fear, or when he is afflicted, + +To say unto Virgilius: “Not a drachm + Of blood remains in me, that does not tremble; + I know the traces of the ancient flame.” + +But us Virgilius of himself deprived + Had left, Virgilius, sweetest of all fathers, + Virgilius, to whom I for safety gave me: + +Nor whatsoever lost the ancient mother + Availed my cheeks now purified from dew, + That weeping they should not again be darkened. + +“Dante, because Virgilius has departed + Do not weep yet, do not weep yet awhile; + For by another sword thou need’st must weep.” + +E’en as an admiral, who on poop and prow + Comes to behold the people that are working + In other ships, and cheers them to well-doing, + +Upon the left hand border of the car, + When at the sound I turned of my own name, + Which of necessity is here recorded, + +I saw the Lady, who erewhile appeared + Veiled underneath the angelic festival, + Direct her eyes to me across the river. + +Although the veil, that from her head descended, + Encircled with the foliage of Minerva, + Did not permit her to appear distinctly, + +In attitude still royally majestic + Continued she, like unto one who speaks, + And keeps his warmest utterance in reserve: + +“Look at me well; in sooth I’m Beatrice! + How didst thou deign to come unto the Mountain? + Didst thou not know that man is happy here?” + +Mine eyes fell downward into the clear fountain, + But, seeing myself therein, I sought the grass, + So great a shame did weigh my forehead down. + +As to the son the mother seems superb, + So she appeared to me; for somewhat bitter + Tasteth the savour of severe compassion. + +Silent became she, and the Angels sang + Suddenly, “In te, Domine, speravi:” + But beyond ‘pedes meos’ did not pass. + +Even as the snow among the living rafters + Upon the back of Italy congeals, + Blown on and drifted by Sclavonian winds, + +And then, dissolving, trickles through itself + Whene’er the land that loses shadow breathes, + So that it seems a fire that melts a taper; + +E’en thus was I without a tear or sigh, + Before the song of those who sing for ever + After the music of the eternal spheres. + +But when I heard in their sweet melodies + Compassion for me, more than had they said, + “O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus upbraid him?” + +The ice, that was about my heart congealed, + To air and water changed, and in my anguish + Through mouth and eyes came gushing from my breast. + +She, on the right-hand border of the car + Still firmly standing, to those holy beings + Thus her discourse directed afterwards: + +“Ye keep your watch in the eternal day, + So that nor night nor sleep can steal from you + One step the ages make upon their path; + +Therefore my answer is with greater care, + That he may hear me who is weeping yonder, + So that the sin and dole be of one measure. + +Not only by the work of those great wheels, + That destine every seed unto some end, + According as the stars are in conjunction, + +But by the largess of celestial graces, + Which have such lofty vapours for their rain + That near to them our sight approaches not, + +Such had this man become in his new life + Potentially, that every righteous habit + Would have made admirable proof in him; + +But so much more malignant and more savage + Becomes the land untilled and with bad seed, + The more good earthly vigour it possesses. + +Some time did I sustain him with my look; + Revealing unto him my youthful eyes, + I led him with me turned in the right way. + +As soon as ever of my second age + I was upon the threshold and changed life, + Himself from me he took and gave to others. + +When from the flesh to spirit I ascended, + And beauty and virtue were in me increased, + I was to him less dear and less delightful; + +And into ways untrue he turned his steps, + Pursuing the false images of good, + That never any promises fulfil; + +Nor prayer for inspiration me availed, + By means of which in dreams and otherwise + I called him back, so little did he heed them. + +So low he fell, that all appliances + For his salvation were already short, + Save showing him the people of perdition. + +For this I visited the gates of death, + And unto him, who so far up has led him, + My intercessions were with weeping borne. + +God’s lofty fiat would be violated, + If Lethe should be passed, and if such viands + Should tasted be, withouten any scot + +Of penitence, that gushes forth in tears.” + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXXI + + +“O thou who art beyond the sacred river,” + Turning to me the point of her discourse, + That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen, + +She recommenced, continuing without pause, + “Say, say if this be true; to such a charge, + Thy own confession needs must be conjoined.” + +My faculties were in so great confusion, + That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct + Than by its organs it was set at large. + +Awhile she waited; then she said: “What thinkest? + Answer me; for the mournful memories + In thee not yet are by the waters injured.” + +Confusion and dismay together mingled + Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight + Was needful to the understanding of it. + +Even as a cross-bow breaks, when ’tis discharged + Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow, + And with less force the arrow hits the mark, + +So I gave way beneath that heavy burden, + Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs, + And the voice flagged upon its passage forth. + +Whence she to me: “In those desires of mine + Which led thee to the loving of that good, + Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to, + +What trenches lying traverse or what chains + Didst thou discover, that of passing onward + Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope? + +And what allurements or what vantages + Upon the forehead of the others showed, + That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?” + +After the heaving of a bitter sigh, + Hardly had I the voice to make response, + And with fatigue my lips did fashion it. + +Weeping I said: “The things that present were + With their false pleasure turned aside my steps, + Soon as your countenance concealed itself.” + +And she: “Shouldst thou be silent, or deny + What thou confessest, not less manifest + Would be thy fault, by such a Judge ’tis known. + +But when from one’s own cheeks comes bursting forth + The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal + Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself. + +But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame + For thy transgression, and another time + Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong, + +Cast down the seed of weeping and attend; + So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way + My buried flesh should have directed thee. + +Never to thee presented art or nature + Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein + I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth. + +And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee + By reason of my death, what mortal thing + Should then have drawn thee into its desire? + +Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft + Of things fallacious to have risen up + To follow me, who was no longer such. + +Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward + To wait for further blows, or little girl, + Or other vanity of such brief use. + +The callow birdlet waits for two or three, + But to the eyes of those already fledged, + In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot.” + +Even as children silent in their shame + Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, + And conscious of their fault, and penitent; + +So was I standing; and she said: “If thou + In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard + And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing.” + +With less resistance is a robust holm + Uprooted, either by a native wind + Or else by that from regions of Iarbas, + +Than I upraised at her command my chin; + And when she by the beard the face demanded, + Well I perceived the venom of her meaning. + +And as my countenance was lifted up, + Mine eye perceived those creatures beautiful + Had rested from the strewing of the flowers; + +And, still but little reassured, mine eyes + Saw Beatrice turned round towards the monster, + That is one person only in two natures. + +Beneath her veil, beyond the margent green, + She seemed to me far more her ancient self + To excel, than others here, when she was here. + +So pricked me then the thorn of penitence, + That of all other things the one which turned me + Most to its love became the most my foe. + +Such self-conviction stung me at the heart + O’erpowered I fell, and what I then became + She knoweth who had furnished me the cause. + +Then, when the heart restored my outward sense, + The lady I had found alone, above me + I saw, and she was saying, “Hold me, hold me.” + +Up to my throat she in the stream had drawn me, + And, dragging me behind her, she was moving + Upon the water lightly as a shuttle. + +When I was near unto the blessed shore, + “Asperges me,” I heard so sweetly sung, + Remember it I cannot, much less write it. + +The beautiful lady opened wide her arms, + Embraced my head, and plunged me underneath, + Where I was forced to swallow of the water. + +Then forth she drew me, and all dripping brought + Into the dance of the four beautiful, + And each one with her arm did cover me. + +‘We here are Nymphs, and in the Heaven are stars; + Ere Beatrice descended to the world, + We as her handmaids were appointed her. + +We’ll lead thee to her eyes; but for the pleasant + Light that within them is, shall sharpen thine + The three beyond, who more profoundly look.’ + +Thus singing they began; and afterwards + Unto the Griffin’s breast they led me with them, + Where Beatrice was standing, turned towards us. + +“See that thou dost not spare thine eyes,” they said; + “Before the emeralds have we stationed thee, + Whence Love aforetime drew for thee his weapons.” + +A thousand longings, hotter than the flame, + Fastened mine eyes upon those eyes relucent, + That still upon the Griffin steadfast stayed. + +As in a glass the sun, not otherwise + Within them was the twofold monster shining, + Now with the one, now with the other nature. + +Think, Reader, if within myself I marvelled, + When I beheld the thing itself stand still, + And in its image it transformed itself. + +While with amazement filled and jubilant, + My soul was tasting of the food, that while + It satisfies us makes us hunger for it, + +Themselves revealing of the highest rank + In bearing, did the other three advance, + Singing to their angelic saraband. + +“Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes,” + Such was their song, “unto thy faithful one, + Who has to see thee ta’en so many steps. + +In grace do us the grace that thou unveil + Thy face to him, so that he may discern + The second beauty which thou dost conceal.” + +O splendour of the living light eternal! + Who underneath the shadow of Parnassus + Has grown so pale, or drunk so at its cistern, + +He would not seem to have his mind encumbered + Striving to paint thee as thou didst appear, + Where the harmonious heaven o’ershadowed thee, + +When in the open air thou didst unveil? + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXXII + + +So steadfast and attentive were mine eyes + In satisfying their decennial thirst, + That all my other senses were extinct, + +And upon this side and on that they had + Walls of indifference, so the holy smile + Drew them unto itself with the old net + +When forcibly my sight was turned away + Towards my left hand by those goddesses, + Because I heard from them a “Too intently!” + +And that condition of the sight which is + In eyes but lately smitten by the sun + Bereft me of my vision some short while; + +But to the less when sight re-shaped itself, + I say the less in reference to the greater + Splendour from which perforce I had withdrawn, + +I saw upon its right wing wheeled about + The glorious host returning with the sun + And with the sevenfold flames upon their faces. + +As underneath its shields, to save itself, + A squadron turns, and with its banner wheels, + Before the whole thereof can change its front, + +That soldiery of the celestial kingdom + Which marched in the advance had wholly passed us + Before the chariot had turned its pole. + +Then to the wheels the maidens turned themselves, + And the Griffin moved his burden benedight, + But so that not a feather of him fluttered. + +The lady fair who drew me through the ford + Followed with Statius and myself the wheel + Which made its orbit with the lesser arc. + +So passing through the lofty forest, vacant + By fault of her who in the serpent trusted, + Angelic music made our steps keep time. + +Perchance as great a space had in three flights + An arrow loosened from the string o’erpassed, + As we had moved when Beatrice descended. + +I heard them murmur altogether, “Adam!” + Then circled they about a tree despoiled + Of blooms and other leafage on each bough. + +Its tresses, which so much the more dilate + As higher they ascend, had been by Indians + Among their forests marvelled at for height. + +“Blessed art thou, O Griffin, who dost not + Pluck with thy beak these branches sweet to taste, + Since appetite by this was turned to evil.” + +After this fashion round the tree robust + The others shouted; and the twofold creature: + “Thus is preserved the seed of all the just.” + +And turning to the pole which he had dragged, + He drew it close beneath the widowed bough, + And what was of it unto it left bound. + +In the same manner as our trees (when downward + Falls the great light, with that together mingled + Which after the celestial Lasca shines) + +Begin to swell, and then renew themselves, + Each one with its own colour, ere the Sun + Harness his steeds beneath another star: + +Less than of rose and more than violet + A hue disclosing, was renewed the tree + That had erewhile its boughs so desolate. + +I never heard, nor here below is sung, + The hymn which afterward that people sang, + Nor did I bear the melody throughout. + +Had I the power to paint how fell asleep + Those eyes compassionless, of Syrinx hearing, + Those eyes to which more watching cost so dear, + +Even as a painter who from model paints + I would portray how I was lulled asleep; + He may, who well can picture drowsihood. + +Therefore I pass to what time I awoke, + And say a splendour rent from me the veil + Of slumber, and a calling: “Rise, what dost thou?” + +As to behold the apple-tree in blossom + Which makes the Angels greedy for its fruit, + And keeps perpetual bridals in the Heaven, + +Peter and John and James conducted were, + And, overcome, recovered at the word + By which still greater slumbers have been broken, + +And saw their school diminished by the loss + Not only of Elias, but of Moses, + And the apparel of their Master changed; + +So I revived, and saw that piteous one + Above me standing, who had been conductress + Aforetime of my steps beside the river, + +And all in doubt I said, “Where’s Beatrice?” + And she: “Behold her seated underneath + The leafage new, upon the root of it. + +Behold the company that circles her; + The rest behind the Griffin are ascending + With more melodious song, and more profound.” + +And if her speech were more diffuse I know not, + Because already in my sight was she + Who from the hearing of aught else had shut me. + +Alone she sat upon the very earth, + Left there as guardian of the chariot + Which I had seen the biform monster fasten. + +Encircling her, a cloister made themselves + The seven Nymphs, with those lights in their hands + Which are secure from Aquilon and Auster. + +“Short while shalt thou be here a forester, + And thou shalt be with me for evermore + A citizen of that Rome where Christ is Roman. + +Therefore, for that world’s good which liveth ill, + Fix on the car thine eyes, and what thou seest, + Having returned to earth, take heed thou write.” + +Thus Beatrice; and I, who at the feet + Of her commandments all devoted was, + My mind and eyes directed where she willed. + +Never descended with so swift a motion + Fire from a heavy cloud, when it is raining + From out the region which is most remote, + +As I beheld the bird of Jove descend + Down through the tree, rending away the bark, + As well as blossoms and the foliage new, + +And he with all his might the chariot smote, + Whereat it reeled, like vessel in a tempest + Tossed by the waves, now starboard and now larboard. + +Thereafter saw I leap into the body + Of the triumphal vehicle a Fox, + That seemed unfed with any wholesome food. + +But for his hideous sins upbraiding him, + My Lady put him to as swift a flight + As such a fleshless skeleton could bear. + +Then by the way that it before had come, + Into the chariot’s chest I saw the Eagle + Descend, and leave it feathered with his plumes. + +And such as issues from a heart that mourns, + A voice from Heaven there issued, and it said: + “My little bark, how badly art thou freighted!” + +Methought, then, that the earth did yawn between + Both wheels, and I saw rise from it a Dragon, + Who through the chariot upward fixed his tail, + +And as a wasp that draweth back its sting, + Drawing unto himself his tail malign, + Drew out the floor, and went his way rejoicing. + +That which remained behind, even as with grass + A fertile region, with the feathers, offered + Perhaps with pure intention and benign, + +Reclothed itself, and with them were reclothed + The pole and both the wheels so speedily, + A sigh doth longer keep the lips apart. + +Transfigured thus the holy edifice + Thrust forward heads upon the parts of it, + Three on the pole and one at either corner. + +The first were horned like oxen; but the four + Had but a single horn upon the forehead; + A monster such had never yet been seen! + +Firm as a rock upon a mountain high, + Seated upon it, there appeared to me + A shameless whore, with eyes swift glancing round, + +And, as if not to have her taken from him, + Upright beside her I beheld a giant; + And ever and anon they kissed each other. + +But because she her wanton, roving eye + Turned upon me, her angry paramour + Did scourge her from her head unto her feet. + +Then full of jealousy, and fierce with wrath, + He loosed the monster, and across the forest + Dragged it so far, he made of that alone + +A shield unto the whore and the strange beast. + + + + +Purgatorio: Canto XXXIII + + +“Deus venerunt gentes,” alternating + Now three, now four, melodious psalmody + The maidens in the midst of tears began; + +And Beatrice, compassionate and sighing, + Listened to them with such a countenance, + That scarce more changed was Mary at the cross. + +But when the other virgins place had given + For her to speak, uprisen to her feet + With colour as of fire, she made response: + +“‘Modicum, et non videbitis me; + Et iterum,’ my sisters predilect, + ‘Modicum, et vos videbitis me.’” + +Then all the seven in front of her she placed; + And after her, by beckoning only, moved + Me and the lady and the sage who stayed. + +So she moved onward; and I do not think + That her tenth step was placed upon the ground, + When with her eyes upon mine eyes she smote, + +And with a tranquil aspect, “Come more quickly,” + To me she said, “that, if I speak with thee, + To listen to me thou mayst be well placed.” + +As soon as I was with her as I should be, + She said to me: “Why, brother, dost thou not + Venture to question now, in coming with me?” + +As unto those who are too reverential, + Speaking in presence of superiors, + Who drag no living utterance to their teeth, + +It me befell, that without perfect sound + Began I: “My necessity, Madonna, + You know, and that which thereunto is good.” + +And she to me: “Of fear and bashfulness + Henceforward I will have thee strip thyself, + So that thou speak no more as one who dreams. + +Know that the vessel which the serpent broke + Was, and is not; but let him who is guilty + Think that God’s vengeance does not fear a sop. + +Without an heir shall not for ever be + The Eagle that left his plumes upon the car, + Whence it became a monster, then a prey; + +For verily I see, and hence narrate it, + The stars already near to bring the time, + From every hindrance safe, and every bar, + +Within which a Five-hundred, Ten, and Five, + One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman + And that same giant who is sinning with her. + +And peradventure my dark utterance, + Like Themis and the Sphinx, may less persuade thee, + Since, in their mode, it clouds the intellect; + +But soon the facts shall be the Naiades + Who shall this difficult enigma solve, + Without destruction of the flocks and harvests. + +Note thou; and even as by me are uttered + These words, so teach them unto those who live + That life which is a running unto death; + +And bear in mind, whene’er thou writest them, + Not to conceal what thou hast seen the plant, + That twice already has been pillaged here. + +Whoever pillages or shatters it, + With blasphemy of deed offendeth God, + Who made it holy for his use alone. + +For biting that, in pain and in desire + Five thousand years and more the first-born soul + Craved Him, who punished in himself the bite. + +Thy genius slumbers, if it deem it not + For special reason so pre-eminent + In height, and so inverted in its summit. + +And if thy vain imaginings had not been + Water of Elsa round about thy mind, + And Pyramus to the mulberry, their pleasure, + +Thou by so many circumstances only + The justice of the interdict of God + Morally in the tree wouldst recognize. + +But since I see thee in thine intellect + Converted into stone and stained with sin, + So that the light of my discourse doth daze thee, + +I will too, if not written, at least painted, + Thou bear it back within thee, for the reason + That cinct with palm the pilgrim’s staff is borne.” + +And I: “As by a signet is the wax + Which does not change the figure stamped upon it, + My brain is now imprinted by yourself. + +But wherefore so beyond my power of sight + Soars your desirable discourse, that aye + The more I strive, so much the more I lose it?” + +“That thou mayst recognize,” she said, “the school + Which thou hast followed, and mayst see how far + Its doctrine follows after my discourse, + +And mayst behold your path from the divine + Distant as far as separated is + From earth the heaven that highest hastens on.” + +Whence her I answered: “I do not remember + That ever I estranged myself from you, + Nor have I conscience of it that reproves me.” + +“And if thou art not able to remember,” + Smiling she answered, “recollect thee now + That thou this very day hast drunk of Lethe; + +And if from smoke a fire may be inferred, + Such an oblivion clearly demonstrates + Some error in thy will elsewhere intent. + +Truly from this time forward shall my words + Be naked, so far as it is befitting + To lay them open unto thy rude gaze.” + +And more coruscant and with slower steps + The sun was holding the meridian circle, + Which, with the point of view, shifts here and there + +When halted (as he cometh to a halt, + Who goes before a squadron as its escort, + If something new he find upon his way) + +The ladies seven at a dark shadow’s edge, + Such as, beneath green leaves and branches black, + The Alp upon its frigid border wears. + +In front of them the Tigris and Euphrates + Methought I saw forth issue from one fountain, + And slowly part, like friends, from one another. + +“O light, O glory of the human race! + What stream is this which here unfolds itself + From out one source, and from itself withdraws?” + +For such a prayer, ’twas said unto me, “Pray + Matilda that she tell thee;” and here answered, + As one does who doth free himself from blame, + +The beautiful lady: “This and other things + Were told to him by me; and sure I am + The water of Lethe has not hid them from him.” + +And Beatrice: “Perhaps a greater care, + Which oftentimes our memory takes away, + Has made the vision of his mind obscure. + +But Eunoe behold, that yonder rises; + Lead him to it, and, as thou art accustomed, + Revive again the half-dead virtue in him.” + +Like gentle soul, that maketh no excuse, + But makes its own will of another’s will + As soon as by a sign it is disclosed, + +Even so, when she had taken hold of me, + The beautiful lady moved, and unto Statius + Said, in her womanly manner, “Come with him.” + +If, Reader, I possessed a longer space + For writing it, I yet would sing in part + Of the sweet draught that ne’er would satiate me; + +But inasmuch as full are all the leaves + Made ready for this second canticle, + The curb of art no farther lets me go. + +From the most holy water I returned + Regenerate, in the manner of new trees + That are renewed with a new foliage, + +Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1002 *** |