Chapter 2

To the low shores mine eyes I first directed, Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered That on the left hand we were smitten by it.

The Poet well perceived that I was wholly Bewildered at the chariot of the light, Where ’twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.

Whereon he said to me: “If Castor and Pollux Were in the company of yonder mirror, That up and down conducteth with its light,

Thou wouldst behold the zodiac’s jagged wheel Revolving still more near unto the Bears, Unless it swerved aside from its old track.

How that may be wouldst thou have power to think, Collected in thyself, imagine Zion Together with this mount on earth to stand,

So that they both one sole horizon have, And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,

Thou’lt see how of necessity must pass This on one side, when that upon the other, If thine intelligence right clearly heed.”

“Truly, my Master,” said I, “never yet Saw I so clearly as I now discern, There where my wit appeared incompetent,

That the mid-circle of supernal motion, Which in some art is the Equator called, And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,

For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence Tow’rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews Beheld it tow’rds the region of the heat.

But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn How far we have to go; for the hill rises Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise.”

And he to me: “This mount is such, that ever At the beginning down below ’tis tiresome, And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.

Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee, That going up shall be to thee as easy As going down the current in a boat,

Then at this pathway’s ending thou wilt be; There to repose thy panting breath expect; No more I answer; and this I know for true.”

And as he finished uttering these words, A voice close by us sounded: “Peradventure Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that.”

At sound thereof each one of us turned round, And saw upon the left hand a great rock, Which neither I nor he before had noticed.

Thither we drew; and there were persons there Who in the shadow stood behind the rock, As one through indolence is wont to stand.

And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued, Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced, Holding his face low down between them bowed.

“O my sweet Lord,” I said, “do turn thine eye On him who shows himself more negligent Then even Sloth herself his sister were.”

Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed, Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh, And said: “Now go thou up, for thou art valiant.”

Then knew I who he was; and the distress, That still a little did my breathing quicken, My going to him hindered not; and after

I came to him he hardly raised his head, Saying: “Hast thou seen clearly how the sun O’er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?”

His sluggish attitude and his curt words A little unto laughter moved my lips; Then I began: “Belacqua, I grieve not

For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort? Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?”

And he: “O brother, what’s the use of climbing? Since to my torment would not let me go The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.

First heaven must needs so long revolve me round Outside thereof, as in my life it did, Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,

Unless, e’er that, some prayer may bring me aid Which rises from a heart that lives in grace; What profit others that in heaven are heard not?”

Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting, And saying: “Come now; see the sun has touched Meridian, and from the shore the night

Covers already with her foot Morocco.”

Purgatorio: Canto V

I had already from those shades departed, And followed in the footsteps of my Guide, When from behind, pointing his finger at me,

One shouted: “See, it seems as if shone not The sunshine on the left of him below, And like one living seems he to conduct him.”

Mine eyes I turned at utterance of these words, And saw them watching with astonishment But me, but me, and the light which was broken!

“Why doth thy mind so occupy itself,” The Master said, “that thou thy pace dost slacken? What matters it to thee what here is whispered?

Come after me, and let the people talk; Stand like a steadfast tower, that never wags Its top for all the blowing of the winds;

For evermore the man in whom is springing Thought upon thought, removes from him the mark, Because the force of one the other weakens.”

What could I say in answer but “I come”? I said it somewhat with that colour tinged Which makes a man of pardon sometimes worthy.

Meanwhile along the mountain-side across Came people in advance of us a little, Singing the Miserere verse by verse.

When they became aware I gave no place For passage of the sunshine through my body, They changed their song into a long, hoarse “Oh!”

And two of them, in form of messengers, Ran forth to meet us, and demanded of us, “Of your condition make us cognisant.”

And said my Master: “Ye can go your way And carry back again to those who sent you, That this one’s body is of very flesh.

If they stood still because they saw his shadow, As I suppose, enough is answered them; Him let them honour, it may profit them.”

Vapours enkindled saw I ne’er so swiftly At early nightfall cleave the air serene, Nor, at the set of sun, the clouds of August,

But upward they returned in briefer time, And, on arriving, with the others wheeled Tow’rds us, like troops that run without a rein.

“This folk that presses unto us is great, And cometh to implore thee,” said the Poet; “So still go onward, and in going listen.”

“O soul that goest to beatitude With the same members wherewith thou wast born,” Shouting they came, “a little stay thy steps,

Look, if thou e’er hast any of us seen, So that o’er yonder thou bear news of him; Ah, why dost thou go on? Ah, why not stay?

Long since we all were slain by violence, And sinners even to the latest hour; Then did a light from heaven admonish us,

So that, both penitent and pardoning, forth From life we issued reconciled to God, Who with desire to see Him stirs our hearts.”

And I: “Although I gaze into your faces, No one I recognize; but if may please you Aught I have power to do, ye well-born spirits,

Speak ye, and I will do it, by that peace Which, following the feet of such a Guide, From world to world makes itself sought by me.”

And one began: “Each one has confidence In thy good offices without an oath, Unless the I cannot cut off the I will;

Whence I, who speak alone before the others, Pray thee, if ever thou dost see the land That ’twixt Romagna lies and that of Charles,

Thou be so courteous to me of thy prayers In Fano, that they pray for me devoutly, That I may purge away my grave offences.

From thence was I; but the deep wounds, through which Issued the blood wherein I had my seat, Were dealt me in bosom of the Antenori,

There where I thought to be the most secure; ’Twas he of Este had it done, who held me In hatred far beyond what justice willed.

But if towards the Mira I had fled, When I was overtaken at Oriaco, I still should be o’er yonder where men breathe.

I ran to the lagoon, and reeds and mire Did so entangle me I fell, and saw there A lake made from my veins upon the ground.”

Then said another: “Ah, be that desire Fulfilled that draws thee to the lofty mountain, As thou with pious pity aidest mine.

I was of Montefeltro, and am Buonconte; Giovanna, nor none other cares for me; Hence among these I go with downcast front.”

And I to him: “What violence or what chance Led thee astray so far from Campaldino, That never has thy sepulture been known?”

“Oh,” he replied, “at Casentino’s foot A river crosses named Archiano, born Above the Hermitage in Apennine.

There where the name thereof becometh void Did I arrive, pierced through and through the throat, Fleeing on foot, and bloodying the plain;

There my sight lost I, and my utterance Ceased in the name of Mary, and thereat I fell, and tenantless my flesh remained.

Truth will I speak, repeat it to the living; God’s Angel took me up, and he of hell Shouted: ‘O thou from heaven, why dost thou rob me?

Thou bearest away the eternal part of him, For one poor little tear, that takes him from me; But with the rest I’ll deal in other fashion!’

Well knowest thou how in the air is gathered That humid vapour which to water turns, Soon as it rises where the cold doth grasp it.

He joined that evil will, which aye seeks evil, To intellect, and moved the mist and wind By means of power, which his own nature gave;

Thereafter, when the day was spent, the valley From Pratomagno to the great yoke covered With fog, and made the heaven above intent,

So that the pregnant air to water changed; Down fell the rain, and to the gullies came Whate’er of it earth tolerated not;

And as it mingled with the mighty torrents, Towards the royal river with such speed It headlong rushed, that nothing held it back.

My frozen body near unto its outlet The robust Archian found, and into Arno Thrust it, and loosened from my breast the cross

I made of me, when agony o’ercame me; It rolled me on the banks and on the bottom, Then with its booty covered and begirt me.”

“Ah, when thou hast returned unto the world, And rested thee from thy long journeying,” After the second followed the third spirit,

“Do thou remember me who am the Pia; Siena made me, unmade me Maremma; He knoweth it, who had encircled first,

Espousing me, my finger with his gem.”

Purgatorio: Canto VI

Whene’er is broken up the game of Zara, He who has lost remains behind despondent, The throws repeating, and in sadness learns;

The people with the other all depart; One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him, And at his side one brings himself to mind;

He pauses not, and this and that one hears; They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches, And from the throng he thus defends himself.

Even such was I in that dense multitude, Turning to them this way and that my face, And, promising, I freed myself therefrom.

There was the Aretine, who from the arms Untamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death, And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned.

There was imploring with his hands outstretched Frederick Novello, and that one of Pisa Who made the good Marzucco seem so strong.

I saw Count Orso; and the soul divided By hatred and by envy from its body, As it declared, and not for crime committed,

Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provide While still on earth the Lady of Brabant, So that for this she be of no worse flock!

As soon as I was free from all those shades Who only prayed that some one else may pray, So as to hasten their becoming holy,

Began I: “It appears that thou deniest, O light of mine, expressly in some text, That orison can bend decree of Heaven;

And ne’ertheless these people pray for this. Might then their expectation bootless be? Or is to me thy saying not quite clear?”

And he to me: “My writing is explicit, And not fallacious is the hope of these, If with sane intellect ’tis well regarded;

For top of judgment doth not vail itself, Because the fire of love fulfils at once What he must satisfy who here installs him.

And there, where I affirmed that proposition, Defect was not amended by a prayer, Because the prayer from God was separate.

Verily, in so deep a questioning Do not decide, unless she tell it thee, Who light ’twixt truth and intellect shall be.

I know not if thou understand; I speak Of Beatrice; her shalt thou see above, Smiling and happy, on this mountain’s top.”

And I: “Good Leader, let us make more haste, For I no longer tire me as before; And see, e’en now the hill a shadow casts.”

“We will go forward with this day” he answered, “As far as now is possible for us; But otherwise the fact is than thou thinkest.

Ere thou art up there, thou shalt see return Him, who now hides himself behind the hill, So that thou dost not interrupt his rays.

But yonder there behold! a soul that stationed All, all alone is looking hitherward; It will point out to us the quickest way.”

We came up unto it; O Lombard soul, How lofty and disdainful thou didst bear thee, And grand and slow in moving of thine eyes!

Nothing whatever did it say to us, But let us go our way, eying us only After the manner of a couchant lion;

Still near to it Virgilius drew, entreating That it would point us out the best ascent; And it replied not unto his demand,

But of our native land and of our life It questioned us; and the sweet Guide began: “Mantua,”—and the shade, all in itself recluse,

Rose tow’rds him from the place where first it was, Saying: “O Mantuan, I am Sordello Of thine own land!” and one embraced the other.

Ah! servile Italy, grief’s hostelry! A ship without a pilot in great tempest! No Lady thou of Provinces, but brothel!

That noble soul was so impatient, only At the sweet sound of his own native land, To make its citizen glad welcome there;

And now within thee are not without war Thy living ones, and one doth gnaw the other Of those whom one wall and one fosse shut in!

Search, wretched one, all round about the shores Thy seaboard, and then look within thy bosom, If any part of thee enjoyeth peace!

What boots it, that for thee Justinian The bridle mend, if empty be the saddle? Withouten this the shame would be the less.

Ah! people, thou that oughtest to be devout, And to let Caesar sit upon the saddle, If well thou hearest what God teacheth thee,

Behold how fell this wild beast has become, Being no longer by the spur corrected, Since thou hast laid thy hand upon the bridle.

O German Albert! who abandonest Her that has grown recalcitrant and savage, And oughtest to bestride her saddle-bow,

May a just judgment from the stars down fall Upon thy blood, and be it new and open, That thy successor may have fear thereof;

Because thy father and thyself have suffered, By greed of those transalpine lands distrained, The garden of the empire to be waste.

Come and behold Montecchi and Cappelletti, Monaldi and Fillippeschi, careless man! Those sad already, and these doubt-depressed!

Come, cruel one! come and behold the oppression Of thy nobility, and cure their wounds, And thou shalt see how safe is Santafiore!

Come and behold thy Rome, that is lamenting, Widowed, alone, and day and night exclaims, “My Caesar, why hast thou forsaken me?”

Come and behold how loving are the people; And if for us no pity moveth thee, Come and be made ashamed of thy renown!

And if it lawful be, O Jove Supreme! Who upon earth for us wast crucified, Are thy just eyes averted otherwhere?

Or preparation is ’t, that, in the abyss Of thine own counsel, for some good thou makest From our perception utterly cut off?

For all the towns of Italy are full Of tyrants, and becometh a Marcellus Each peasant churl who plays the partisan!

My Florence! well mayst thou contented be With this digression, which concerns thee not, Thanks to thy people who such forethought take!

Many at heart have justice, but shoot slowly, That unadvised they come not to the bow, But on their very lips thy people have it!

Many refuse to bear the common burden; But thy solicitous people answereth Without being asked, and crieth: “I submit.”

Now be thou joyful, for thou hast good reason; Thou affluent, thou in peace, thou full of wisdom! If I speak true, the event conceals it not.

Athens and Lacedaemon, they who made The ancient laws, and were so civilized, Made towards living well a little sign

Compared with thee, who makest such fine-spun Provisions, that to middle of November Reaches not what thou in October spinnest.

How oft, within the time of thy remembrance, Laws, money, offices, and usages Hast thou remodelled, and renewed thy members?

And if thou mind thee well, and see the light, Thou shalt behold thyself like a sick woman, Who cannot find repose upon her down,

But by her tossing wardeth off her pain.

Purgatorio: Canto VII

After the gracious and glad salutations Had three and four times been reiterated, Sordello backward drew and said, “Who are you?”

“Or ever to this mountain were directed The souls deserving to ascend to God, My bones were buried by Octavian.

I am Virgilius; and for no crime else Did I lose heaven, than for not having faith;” In this wise then my Leader made reply.

As one who suddenly before him sees Something whereat he marvels, who believes And yet does not, saying, “It is! it is not!”

So he appeared; and then bowed down his brow, And with humility returned towards him, And, where inferiors embrace, embraced him.

“O glory of the Latians, thou,” he said, “Through whom our language showed what it could do O pride eternal of the place I came from,

What merit or what grace to me reveals thee? If I to hear thy words be worthy, tell me If thou dost come from Hell, and from what cloister.”

“Through all the circles of the doleful realm,” Responded he, “have I come hitherward; Heaven’s power impelled me, and with that I come.

I by not doing, not by doing, lost The sight of that high sun which thou desirest, And which too late by me was recognized.

A place there is below not sad with torments, But darkness only, where the lamentations Have not the sound of wailing, but are sighs.

There dwell I with the little innocents Snatched by the teeth of Death, or ever they Were from our human sinfulness exempt.

There dwell I among those who the three saintly Virtues did not put on, and without vice The others knew and followed all of them.

But if thou know and can, some indication Give us by which we may the sooner come Where Purgatory has its right beginning.”

He answered: “No fixed place has been assigned us; ’Tis lawful for me to go up and round; So far as I can go, as guide I join thee.

But see already how the day declines, And to go up by night we are not able; Therefore ’tis well to think of some fair sojourn.

Souls are there on the right hand here withdrawn; If thou permit me I will lead thee to them, And thou shalt know them not without delight.”

“How is this?” was the answer; “should one wish To mount by night would he prevented be By others? or mayhap would not have power?”

And on the ground the good Sordello drew His finger, saying, “See, this line alone Thou couldst not pass after the sun is gone;

Not that aught else would hindrance give, however, To going up, save the nocturnal darkness; This with the want of power the will perplexes.

We might indeed therewith return below, And, wandering, walk the hill-side round about, While the horizon holds the day imprisoned.”

Thereon my Lord, as if in wonder, said: “Do thou conduct us thither, where thou sayest That we can take delight in tarrying.”

Little had we withdrawn us from that place, When I perceived the mount was hollowed out In fashion as the valleys here are hollowed.

“Thitherward,” said that shade, “will we repair, Where of itself the hill-side makes a lap, And there for the new day will we await.”

’Twixt hill and plain there was a winding path Which led us to the margin of that dell, Where dies the border more than half away.

Gold and fine silver, and scarlet and pearl-white, The Indian wood resplendent and serene, Fresh emerald the moment it is broken,

By herbage and by flowers within that hollow Planted, each one in colour would be vanquished, As by its greater vanquished is the less.

Nor in that place had nature painted only, But of the sweetness of a thousand odours Made there a mingled fragrance and unknown.

“Salve Regina,” on the green and flowers There seated, singing, spirits I beheld, Which were not visible outside the valley.

“Before the scanty sun now seeks his nest,” Began the Mantuan who had led us thither, “Among them do not wish me to conduct you.

Better from off this ledge the acts and faces Of all of them will you discriminate, Than in the plain below received among them.

He who sits highest, and the semblance bears Of having what he should have done neglected, And to the others’ song moves not his lips,

Rudolph the Emperor was, who had the power To heal the wounds that Italy have slain, So that through others slowly she revives.

The other, who in look doth comfort him, Governed the region where the water springs, The Moldau bears the Elbe, and Elbe the sea.

His name was Ottocar; and in swaddling-clothes Far better he than bearded Winceslaus His son, who feeds in luxury and ease.

And the small-nosed, who close in council seems With him that has an aspect so benign, Died fleeing and disflowering the lily;

Look there, how he is beating at his breast! Behold the other one, who for his cheek Sighing has made of his own palm a bed;

Father and father-in-law of France’s Pest Are they, and know his vicious life and lewd, And hence proceeds the grief that so doth pierce them.

He who appears so stalwart, and chimes in, Singing, with that one of the manly nose, The cord of every valour wore begirt;

And if as King had after him remained The stripling who in rear of him is sitting, Well had the valour passed from vase to vase,

Which cannot of the other heirs be said. Frederick and Jacomo possess the realms, But none the better heritage possesses.

Not oftentimes upriseth through the branches The probity of man; and this He wills Who gives it, so that we may ask of Him.

Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no less Than to the other, Pier, who with him sings; Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already

The plant is as inferior to its seed, As more than Beatrice and Margaret Costanza boasteth of her husband still.

Behold the monarch of the simple life, Harry of England, sitting there alone; He in his branches has a better issue.

He who the lowest on the ground among them Sits looking upward, is the Marquis William, For whose sake Alessandria and her war

Make Monferrat and Canavese weep.”

Purgatorio: Canto VIII

’Twas now the hour that turneth back desire In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart, The day they’ve said to their sweet friends farewell,

And the new pilgrim penetrates with love, If he doth hear from far away a bell That seemeth to deplore the dying day,

When I began to make of no avail My hearing, and to watch one of the souls Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.

It joined and lifted upward both its palms, Fixing its eyes upon the orient, As if it said to God, “Naught else I care for.”

“Te lucis ante” so devoutly issued Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes, It made me issue forth from my own mind.