Purgatorio
The Divine Comedy
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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them I had withdrawn,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.
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.
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."
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."
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."
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.
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."
'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."
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.
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!"
"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."
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.
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."
"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."
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.
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.
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."
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.
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."
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.
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."
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."
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."
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."
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.
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!
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!"
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.
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.
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."
"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?
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.
"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.
*******