Part 10

Maggiore oftentimes with a thorn opens the hedge with a little fork of its spines when the grape darkens, for the villager,

than was the gap whereby we climbed up, my leader and I alone, when the troop parted from us.

One goes to Sanleo and descends to Noli, mounts on Bismantova and on Cacume with the feet alone; but here one needs must fly;

I mean with the nimble wings and the plumes of the great desire, behind that guide who gave me hope and was a light.

We were ascending through the broken rock, and on every side the precipice hemmed us in, and the ground below demanded feet and hands.

When we were upon the utmost edge of the high bank, on the open slope, “My Master,” said I, “what way shall we make?”

And he to me: “Let no step of thine fall; only follow me upward on the mount, until some wise escort appear to us.”

The summit was high beyond sight, and the proud hillside more by far than a mid-quadrant to the center line.

I was weary when I began: “O sweet father, turn and look how I remain alone, unless thou stay.”

“My son,” said he, “draw on even to here,” pointing to me a ledge a little above which all that side of the hill encircles.

So his words spurred me that I strained, creeping after him, until the ledge was beneath my feet.

There we seated us both, turned to the east whence we had climbed, which is wont to help others to look back.

First I directed my eyes to the low shores; then raised them to the sun, and wondered that we were smitten by it on the left.

The poet well perceived that I stood all stupefied at the car of light, which between us and the North-wind entered.

Wherefore he said to me: “If Castor and Pollux were in company with that mirror which up and down conducts its light,

thou wouldst see the ruddy Zodiac revolve still closer to the Bears, if it issued not from the old path.

How this is, if thou wouldst be able to think it, collecting within thee, imagine Zion standing with this mountain on the earth,

so that both have one horizon and diverse hemispheres; whence the road which Phaeton drove ill,

thou wilt see how it behooves this one to go from the one side, as that one from the other flank, if thy clear intellect give good heed.”

“Certes, my Master,” said I, “never have I seen so clearly as I now discern there where my wit seemed lacking,

that the mid-circle of the supernal motion, which in some art is called the Equator, and which ever remains between sun and winter,

by the reason thou givest, hence departs toward the north, as far as the Hebrews saw it toward the warm part.

But if it please thee, I would gladly know how far we have yet to go; for the hill rises more than my eyes can ascend.”

And he to me: “This mountain is such that ever at the beginning below it is grievous; and the more one climbs, the less it hurts.

Wherefore, when it shall seem to thee so gentle that going up is light to thee as going down by ship with the current,

then shalt thou be at the end of this path; there expect to rest from the toil. No more I answer, and this I know for truth.”

And when he had spoken his word, a voice sounded near: “Perhaps thou shalt first have need to sit!”

At the sound of it each of us turned, and we saw on the left a great boulder, of which neither I nor he was before aware.

Thither we drew; and there were persons who were staying in the shadow behind the rock as man is wont to place himself through sloth.

And one of them, who seemed weary, sat embracing his knees, holding his face low between them.

“O sweet lord of mine,” said I, “look at him who shows himself more negligent than if sloth were his sister.”

Then he turned to us and gave heed, moving his face up along the thigh, and said: “Now do thou go up, who art valiant!”

Then I knew who he was, and that anguish which was still somewhat shortening my breath hindered me not from going to him; and after

I was come to him, he raised his head scarce, saying: “Hast thou well seen how the sun leads his car from the left shoulder?”

His sluggish gestures and his brief words moved my lips a little to smile; then I began: “Belacqua, it grieves me not

for thee now; but tell me: why seated here upright? awaitest thou escort, or hast thou resumed thy wonted way?”

And he: “O brother, what avails going up? for the angel of God who sits at the gate would not let me go to the torments.

First must the heavens so long revolve me outside it, as they did in life, since I delayed the good sighs at the end,

unless prayer first aid me which may rise from a heart that lives in grace; the other, which avails not, is not heard in heaven?”

And already the poet was climbing before me, and saying: “Come now; see that the sun is touched by the meridian, and the night

already covers with its foot Morocco.”

Purgatory Canto V

I was already parted from those shades, and following the footprints of my leader, when, behind me, pointing the finger,

one cried: “See how he seems not to shine, the ray from the left on him below, and how, alive, he seems to move!”

I turned my eyes at the sound of this speech, and saw them looking through wonder only at me, only at me, and at the broken light.

“Why is thy mind so entangled,” said the master, “that thou slackenest thy going? what matters to thee that which they whisper here?

Come behind me, and leave the people talk: stand firm as a tower, which never wavers its top for blasts of wind;

for ever the man in whom thought springs upon thought, removes himself from the mark, because the one impulse unsolders the other.”

What could I answer but “I come”? I said it, somewhat tinged with the color which makes a man sometimes worthy of pardon.

And meanwhile, across the hillside, came people a little before us, singing ‘Miserere’ verse by verse.

When they perceived that I gave not room for the passage of the rays through my body, they changed their song into a long and hoarse “oh!”;

and two of them, in form of messengers, ran to meet us and asked of us: “Make us acquainted with your condition.”

And my master: “You may go and report to those who sent you that this body of his is true flesh.

If they stayed to see his shadow, as I deem, enough is answered them: let them do him honor, and it may be dear to them.”

I never saw kindled vapors of the first night cleave the serene, nor, at the setting of the sun, clouds of August,

return upward so quickly as they did; and, having joined the others, wheeled with them toward us, like a squadron that runs without rein.

“This folk that presses on us is much, and comes to pray to thee,” said the poet: “wherefore go on, and in going listen.”

“O soul that goest to be joyful with those members wherewith thou wast born,” they came crying, “stay thy step a little.

See if any of us thou ever sawest, so that thou mayst bear tidings of him yonder: alas, why goest thou? alas, why dost thou not stay?

We were all already dead by violence, and sinners even to the latest hour; there the light of heaven made us aware,

so that, repenting and forgiving, we issued from life at peace with God, who with desire to see Him afflicts us.”

And I: “As I gaze in your faces I recognize none; but if aught please you that I can do, spirits well born,

say it, and I will do it for that peace which, following the feet of such a guide, makes me seek it from world to world.”

And one began: “Each trusts in thy benefit without swearing it, provided the will, that cannot, cut it not off.

Wherefore I, who speak alone before the others, pray thee, if ever thou see that country which lies between Romagna and the land of Carlo,

that thou be courteous to me of thy prayers in Fano, so that there be well prayed for me, that I may purge my heavy offenses.

Thence was I; but the deep wounds whence issued the blood upon which I was sitting were dealt me in the bosom of the Antenori,

there where I thought to be most secure: he of Este had them made, who held me in hate far more than right demanded.

But if I had fled toward La Mira when I was overtaken at Oriaco, I should still be yonder where one breathes.

I ran to the marsh, and the reeds and mud entangled me so that I fell; and there I saw my veins make a lake upon the ground.”

Then said another: “Ah, if that desire be fulfilled which draws thee to the high mount, aid mine with good pity!

I was of Montefeltro, I am Bonconte; Giovanna or other has no care of me; wherefore I go among these with lowered brow.”

And I to him: “What force or what fortune turned thee so far from Campaldino, that thy burial was never known?”

“Oh!” answered he, “at the foot of the Casentino a stream crosses, named the Archiano, which rises above the Hermit on the Apennine.

There where its name becomes vain I arrived pierced in the throat, fleeing on foot and bloodying the plain.

There I lost sight and speech; in the name of Mary I ended, and there I fell, and my flesh alone remained.

I will speak truth, and do thou tell it among the living: the angel of God took me, and he of hell cried: ‘O thou of heaven, why dost thou rob me?

Thou bearest away from me the eternal part of him for one little tear which takes him from me; but I will make other governance of the other!’

Well knowest thou how that humid vapor collects in the air, which returns into water as soon as it rises where the cold catches it.

That evil will, which ever asks evil, joined with the intellect, and moved the smoke and wind by the virtue which its nature gave.

Then the valley, when the day was spent, covered from Pratomagno to the great ridge with mist; and made the sky above intent,

so that the pregnant air converted into water; the rain fell, and to the watercourses came what the earth did not absorb;

and as to the great streams it behooved, toward the royal river it rushed so fast that nothing stayed it.

My frozen body, at its mouth, the fierce Archiano found; and it thrust it into the Arno, and loosened from my breast the cross

which I made of myself when pain overcame me; it turned me along the banks and along the bottom, then covered and girt me with its prey.”

“Ah, when thou shalt be returned to the world and rested from the long way,” the third spirit continued to the second,

“remember me, who am the Pia; Siena made me, Maremma unmade me: he knows it who, having first ringed me

with his gem, had wedded me.”

Purgatory Canto VI

When the game of the dice breaks up, he who loses remains sorrowful, repeating the throws, and sadly learns;

with the other goes all the company; one goes before, and one takes him from behind, and one at his side recalls him to mind;

he does not stop, and hears this one and that; to whom he gives his hand, he presses no more; and thus he defends himself from the crowd.

Such was I in that dense throng, turning my face to them, now here, now there, and promising I freed myself from it.

There was the Aretine who from the arms of Ghin di Tacco had his death, and the other who was drowned running in the chase.

There prayed with outstretched hands Federigo Novello, and he of Pisa who made the good Marzucco seem strong.

I saw Count Orso and the soul divided from his body through hatred and envy, as he said, not for fault committed;

Pier della Broccia I mean; and here let her take heed, while she is on this side, the lady of Brabant, so that she be not of worse flock for it.

When I was free from all those shades who prayed only that others pray, so that their becoming holy be hastened,

I began: “It seems that thou deniest me, O my light, expressed in some text that prayer bends the decree of heaven;

and these folk pray precisely for this: would their hope then be vain, or is thy saying not well manifest to me?”

And he to me: “My writing is plain; and the hope of these fails not, if well it be guarded with sound mind;

for the summit of judgment sinks not because fire of love completes in one moment that which he who here takes station must satisfy;

and there where I fixed that point, defect was not amended by praying, because the prayer was disjoined from God.

But to so high a doubt fix not thyself, unless she tell it thee who shall be light between the truth and the intellect.

I know not if thou understand: I speak of Beatrice; thou shalt see her above, on the summit of this mountain, smiling and happy.”

And I: “Lord, let us go with greater speed, for now I tire not as before, and see already that the hill casts shadow.”

“We will go with this day before us,” he answered, “as much as we now may; but the fact is of other fashion than thou thinkest.

Before thou be up there, thou shalt see return him who now covers himself with the hillside, so that thou break not his rays.

But see there a soul who, placed alone all alone, looks toward us: she will teach us the quicker way.”

We came to her: O Lombard soul, how didst thou stand proud and disdainful and in the moving of thine eyes honest and slow!

She said nothing to us, but let us go, only looking like a lion when it rests.

Still Virgil drew to her, praying that she would show us the best ascent; and she answered not his request,

but of our country and of our life she asked; and the sweet leader began “Mantua . . .”, and the shade, all rapt in herself,

rose toward him from the place where she had been, saying: “O Mantuan, I am Sordello of thy land!”; and each embraced the other.

Ah slavish Italy, inn of sorrow, ship without pilot in great tempest, not lady of provinces, but brothel!

That noble soul was so ready, only for the sweet sound of his land, to make festival there to his fellow-citizen;

and now in thee thy living ones are not without war, and one gnaws the other of those whom one wall and one moat enclose.

Seek, wretched one, around from the shores thy sea-coasts, and then look in thy bosom, if any part in thee enjoys peace.

What avails that Justinian refitted thy bridle, if the saddle is empty? Without it the shame were less.

Ah people that shouldst be devout, and let Caesar sit in the saddle, if well thou understandest what God notes to thee,

see how this beast is become fierce for not being corrected by the spurs, since thou didst lay hand on the stirrup.

O Albert of Germany, who abandonest her who is made untamed and savage, and shouldst bestride her arcs,

just judgment from the stars fall upon thy blood, and be new and open, such that thy successor fear thereof!

For what thou and thy father have suffered, by cupidity for yonder constrained, that the garden of the empire be desert.

Come to see the Montecchi and Cappelletti, Monaldi and Filippeschi, man without care: these already sad, and those with suspicions!

Come, cruel one, come, and see the strait of thy gentle ones, and care for their wounds; and thou shalt see how dark Santafior is!

Come to see thy Rome that weeps widowed and alone, and day and night calls: “My Caesar, why dost thou not companion me?”

Come to see how the people love each other! and if no pity of us move thee, come for shame of thy fame.

And if it be allowed me, O supreme Jove who wast crucified on earth for us, are thy just eyes turned elsewhere?

Or is it a preparation which in the abyss of thy counsel thou makest for some good wholly cleft from our perceiving?

For the cities of Italy are all full of tyrants, and every clown who comes partaking becomes a Marcel.

Florence mine, well mayst thou be content with this digression which touches thee not, thanks to thy people who so endeavors.

Many have justice in the heart, and shoot late for not coming without counsel to the bow; but thy people have it on the tip of the tongue.

Many refuse the common burden; but thy people, solicitous, answers without being called, and cries: “I take it on me!”

Now make thee glad, for thou hast whence: thou rich, thou at peace and thou with wisdom! If I say truth, the effect hides it not.

Athens and Lacedaemon, which made the ancient laws and were so civilized, made but a little sign

toward the good life, compared with thee who makest such subtle provisions that what thou spinnest in October reaches not mid-November.

How many times, in the time thou rememberest, law, coin, office, and custom hast thou changed, and renewed thy members!

And if well thou recall and see light, thou shalt see thee like that sick woman who can find no rest upon the feathers,

but with turning wards off her pain.

Purgatory Canto VII

After the honest and glad greetings were repeated three and four times, Sordello drew aside, and said: “Ye, who are ye?”

“Before this mountain were turned the souls worthy to ascend to God, my bones were buried by Octavian.

I am Virgil; and for no other fault did I lose heaven than for not having faith.” Thus then answered my leader.

Even as one who suddenly sees something before him whereat he wonders, who believes and not, saying “It is . . . it is not . . .”,

such seemed he; and then lowered his brows, and humbly returned toward him, and embraced him where the lesser clings.

“O glory of the Latins,” said he, “through whom was shown what our tongue could do, O eternal honor of the place whence I was,

what merit or what grace shows thee to me? If I am worthy to hear thy words, tell me if thou comest from hell, and from what cloister.”

“Through all the circles of the doleful realm,” he answered him, “am I come from there; virtue of heaven moved me, and with it I come.

Not for doing, but for not doing have I lost the sight of the high Sun that thou desirest and which was late known by me.

There is a place below not sad with torments, but only with darkness, where the laments sound not as wails, but are sighs.

There I stay with the innocent children bitten by the teeth of death before they were free from human guilt;

there I stay with those who the three holy virtues clothed not, and without vice knew the others and followed them all.

But if thou knowest and canst, give some sign to us whereby we may come more quickly there where Purgatory has its right beginning.”

He answered: “No certain place is fixed; it is allowed me to go up and around; as far as I can go, I attach myself to thee as guide.

But see already how the day declines, and to go up by night one cannot; wherefore it is well to think of fair sojourn.

Souls are yonder to the right, apart; if thou consent, I will lead thee to them, and they shall be made known to thee not without delight.”

“How is this?” was the answer. “Who would wish to ascend by night, would he be hindered by another, or would he not be, because he could not?”

And the good Sordello rubbed his finger on the ground, saying: “See? only this line wouldst thou not cross after the sun is gone:

not that aught else gave trouble, but the nocturnal darkness, to go up; that with the not-being-able entangles the will.

Well one could return downward with it and walk the hillside around wandering, while the horizon holds the day shut.”

Then my lord, almost wondering, “Lead me,” said, “then there where thou sayest one may have delight in staying.”

We were withdrawn a little from the path, when I perceived that the mountain was hollow, as the valleys hollow them here.

“There,” said that shade, “we will go where the slope makes a bosom of itself; and there we will await the new day.”

Between steep and plain was a winding path, which led us to the side of the hollow, where more than midway the rim dies.

Gold and fine silver, cochineal and white lead, indigo, lucid and serene wood, fresh emerald at the hour it breaks,

each, set among the grass and flowers within that bosom, would be vanquished in color, as the less is vanquished by its greater.

Not only had nature painted there, but of the sweetness of a thousand odors made there one unknown and indistinct.

‘Salve, Regina’ upon the green and upon the flowers there seated singing souls I saw, who through the valley appeared not from without.

“Before the little sun now nests,” began the Mantuan, who had turned us, “among those, wish not that I guide you.

From this ledge shall ye know better the acts and faces of all of them, than down in the hollow gathered among them.

He who sits highest and makes semblance of having neglected what he ought to do, and moves not his mouth to the others’ songs,

was Rodolph the emperor, who could have healed the wounds that have Italy dead, so that late through others she revives.

The other who in his look comforts him, ruled the land where the water rises which the Moulda bears into the Elbe, and Elbe to the sea:

Ottocar he was named, and in the swaddling-clothes was far better than Wenceslaus his bearded son, whom luxury and sloth feed.

And that little-nosed one who, close in counsel, seems with him who has so benign aspect, died fleeing and deflowering the lily:

see there how he beats his breast! The other see, who has made of his palm a bed for his cheek, sighing.

Father and father-in-law are they of the ill of France: they know his life vicious and foul, and thence comes the grief that so lance them.

He who seems so brawny and accords, singing, with him of the male nose, bore the girdle of every valor;

and if after him had remained king the youngling who sits behind him, well had the valor gone from vase to vase,

which cannot be said of the other heirs; James and Frederick have the realms; of the better heritage none possesses.

Rarely rises through the branches human probity; and this wills He who gives it, that it be called from Him.

Also to the nose-bearing one go my words no less than to the other, Peter, who with him sings, whence Apulia and Provence already complain.

So much inferior is the plant of his seed, as, more than Beatrice and Margaret, Constance still boasts of her husband.

See the king of the simple life sit there alone, Henry of England: he has in his branches better issue.

He who lowers among these casts himself down, looking upward, is William the marquis, for whom both Alessandria and its war

make Monferrato and Canavese weep.”

Purgatory Canto VIII

It was now the hour that turns back the desire of the mariners and softens the heart the day they have said farewell to sweet friends;

and that pierces the new pilgrim with love if he hear from afar a bell that seems to mourn the dying day;

when I began to render vain the hearing and to gaze at one of the souls risen, who asked the listening with her hand.

She came and lifted both her palms, fixing her eyes toward the orient, as if she said to God: ‘In naught else calm me.’

‘Te lucis ante’ so devoutly issued from her mouth and with such sweet notes, that made me issue from myself in mind;

and the others then sweetly and devoutly followed her through all the hymn entire, having their eyes on the supernal wheels.

Sharpen here, reader, well thine eyes to the truth, for the veil is now so very subtle, certain that the passing through within is light.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”