Chapter 9

And now they seemed conducted by the white, Now by the red, and from the song of her The others took their step, or slow or swift.

Upon the left hand four made holiday Vested in purple, following the measure Of one of them with three eyes m her head.

In rear of all the group here treated of Two old men I beheld, unlike in habit, But like in gait, each dignified and grave.

One showed himself as one of the disciples Of that supreme Hippocrates, whom nature Made for the animals she holds most dear;

Contrary care the other manifested, With sword so shining and so sharp, it caused Terror to me on this side of the river.

Thereafter four I saw of humble aspect, And behind all an aged man alone Walking in sleep with countenance acute.

And like the foremost company these seven Were habited; yet of the flower-de-luce No garland round about the head they wore,

But of the rose, and other flowers vermilion; At little distance would the sight have sworn That all were in a flame above their brows.

And when the car was opposite to me Thunder was heard; and all that folk august Seemed to have further progress interdicted,

There with the vanward ensigns standing still.

Purgatorio: Canto XXX

When the Septentrion of the highest heaven (Which never either setting knew or rising, Nor veil of other cloud than that of sin,

And which made every one therein aware Of his own duty, as the lower makes Whoever turns the helm to come to port)

Motionless halted, the veracious people, That came at first between it and the Griffin, Turned themselves to the car, as to their peace.

And one of them, as if by Heaven commissioned, Singing, “Veni, sponsa, de Libano” Shouted three times, and all the others after.

Even as the Blessed at the final summons Shall rise up quickened each one from his cavern, Uplifting light the reinvested flesh,

So upon that celestial chariot A hundred rose ‘ad vocem tanti senis,’ Ministers and messengers of life eternal.

They all were saying, “Benedictus qui venis,” And, scattering flowers above and round about, “Manibus o date lilia plenis.”

Ere now have I beheld, as day began, The eastern hemisphere all tinged with rose, And the other heaven with fair serene adorned;

And the sun’s face, uprising, overshadowed So that by tempering influence of vapours For a long interval the eye sustained it;

Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers Which from those hands angelical ascended, And downward fell again inside and out,

Over her snow-white veil with olive cinct Appeared a lady under a green mantle, Vested in colour of the living flame.

And my own spirit, that already now So long a time had been, that in her presence Trembling with awe it had not stood abashed,

Without more knowledge having by mine eyes, Through occult virtue that from her proceeded Of ancient love the mighty influence felt.

As soon as on my vision smote the power Sublime, that had already pierced me through Ere from my boyhood I had yet come forth,

To the left hand I turned with that reliance With which the little child runs to his mother, When he has fear, or when he is afflicted,

To say unto Virgilius: “Not a drachm Of blood remains in me, that does not tremble; I know the traces of the ancient flame.”

But us Virgilius of himself deprived Had left, Virgilius, sweetest of all fathers, Virgilius, to whom I for safety gave me:

Nor whatsoever lost the ancient mother Availed my cheeks now purified from dew, That weeping they should not again be darkened.

“Dante, because Virgilius has departed Do not weep yet, do not weep yet awhile; For by another sword thou need’st must weep.”

E’en as an admiral, who on poop and prow Comes to behold the people that are working In other ships, and cheers them to well-doing,

Upon the left hand border of the car, When at the sound I turned of my own name, Which of necessity is here recorded,

I saw the Lady, who erewhile appeared Veiled underneath the angelic festival, Direct her eyes to me across the river.

Although the veil, that from her head descended, Encircled with the foliage of Minerva, Did not permit her to appear distinctly,

In attitude still royally majestic Continued she, like unto one who speaks, And keeps his warmest utterance in reserve:

“Look at me well; in sooth I’m Beatrice! How didst thou deign to come unto the Mountain? Didst thou not know that man is happy here?”

Mine eyes fell downward into the clear fountain, But, seeing myself therein, I sought the grass, So great a shame did weigh my forehead down.

As to the son the mother seems superb, So she appeared to me; for somewhat bitter Tasteth the savour of severe compassion.

Silent became she, and the Angels sang Suddenly, “In te, Domine, speravi:” But beyond ‘pedes meos’ did not pass.

Even as the snow among the living rafters Upon the back of Italy congeals, Blown on and drifted by Sclavonian winds,

And then, dissolving, trickles through itself Whene’er the land that loses shadow breathes, So that it seems a fire that melts a taper;

E’en thus was I without a tear or sigh, Before the song of those who sing for ever After the music of the eternal spheres.

But when I heard in their sweet melodies Compassion for me, more than had they said, “O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus upbraid him?”

The ice, that was about my heart congealed, To air and water changed, and in my anguish Through mouth and eyes came gushing from my breast.

She, on the right-hand border of the car Still firmly standing, to those holy beings Thus her discourse directed afterwards:

“Ye keep your watch in the eternal day, So that nor night nor sleep can steal from you One step the ages make upon their path;

Therefore my answer is with greater care, That he may hear me who is weeping yonder, So that the sin and dole be of one measure.

Not only by the work of those great wheels, That destine every seed unto some end, According as the stars are in conjunction,

But by the largess of celestial graces, Which have such lofty vapours for their rain That near to them our sight approaches not,

Such had this man become in his new life Potentially, that every righteous habit Would have made admirable proof in him;

But so much more malignant and more savage Becomes the land untilled and with bad seed, The more good earthly vigour it possesses.

Some time did I sustain him with my look; Revealing unto him my youthful eyes, I led him with me turned in the right way.

As soon as ever of my second age I was upon the threshold and changed life, Himself from me he took and gave to others.

When from the flesh to spirit I ascended, And beauty and virtue were in me increased, I was to him less dear and less delightful;

And into ways untrue he turned his steps, Pursuing the false images of good, That never any promises fulfil;

Nor prayer for inspiration me availed, By means of which in dreams and otherwise I called him back, so little did he heed them.

So low he fell, that all appliances For his salvation were already short, Save showing him the people of perdition.

For this I visited the gates of death, And unto him, who so far up has led him, My intercessions were with weeping borne.

God’s lofty fiat would be violated, If Lethe should be passed, and if such viands Should tasted be, withouten any scot

Of penitence, that gushes forth in tears.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXXI

“O thou who art beyond the sacred river,” Turning to me the point of her discourse, That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen,

She recommenced, continuing without pause, “Say, say if this be true; to such a charge, Thy own confession needs must be conjoined.”

My faculties were in so great confusion, That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct Than by its organs it was set at large.

Awhile she waited; then she said: “What thinkest? Answer me; for the mournful memories In thee not yet are by the waters injured.”

Confusion and dismay together mingled Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight Was needful to the understanding of it.

Even as a cross-bow breaks, when ’tis discharged Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark,

So I gave way beneath that heavy burden, Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs, And the voice flagged upon its passage forth.

Whence she to me: “In those desires of mine Which led thee to the loving of that good, Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to,

What trenches lying traverse or what chains Didst thou discover, that of passing onward Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope?

And what allurements or what vantages Upon the forehead of the others showed, That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?”

After the heaving of a bitter sigh, Hardly had I the voice to make response, And with fatigue my lips did fashion it.

Weeping I said: “The things that present were With their false pleasure turned aside my steps, Soon as your countenance concealed itself.”

And she: “Shouldst thou be silent, or deny What thou confessest, not less manifest Would be thy fault, by such a Judge ’tis known.

But when from one’s own cheeks comes bursting forth The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself.

But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame For thy transgression, and another time Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong,

Cast down the seed of weeping and attend; So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way My buried flesh should have directed thee.

Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth.

And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire?

Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such.

Thou oughtest not to have stooped thy pinions downward To wait for further blows, or little girl, Or other vanity of such brief use.

The callow birdlet waits for two or three, But to the eyes of those already fledged, In vain the net is spread or shaft is shot.”

Even as children silent in their shame Stand listening with their eyes upon the ground, And conscious of their fault, and penitent;

So was I standing; and she said: “If thou In hearing sufferest pain, lift up thy beard And thou shalt feel a greater pain in seeing.”

With less resistance is a robust holm Uprooted, either by a native wind Or else by that from regions of Iarbas,

Than I upraised at her command my chin; And when she by the beard the face demanded, Well I perceived the venom of her meaning.

And as my countenance was lifted up, Mine eye perceived those creatures beautiful Had rested from the strewing of the flowers;

And, still but little reassured, mine eyes Saw Beatrice turned round towards the monster, That is one person only in two natures.

Beneath her veil, beyond the margent green, She seemed to me far more her ancient self To excel, than others here, when she was here.

So pricked me then the thorn of penitence, That of all other things the one which turned me Most to its love became the most my foe.

Such self-conviction stung me at the heart O’erpowered I fell, and what I then became She knoweth who had furnished me the cause.

Then, when the heart restored my outward sense, The lady I had found alone, above me I saw, and she was saying, “Hold me, hold me.”

Up to my throat she in the stream had drawn me, And, dragging me behind her, she was moving Upon the water lightly as a shuttle.

When I was near unto the blessed shore, “Asperges me,” I heard so sweetly sung, Remember it I cannot, much less write it.

The beautiful lady opened wide her arms, Embraced my head, and plunged me underneath, Where I was forced to swallow of the water.

Then forth she drew me, and all dripping brought Into the dance of the four beautiful, And each one with her arm did cover me.

‘We here are Nymphs, and in the Heaven are stars; Ere Beatrice descended to the world, We as her handmaids were appointed her.

We’ll lead thee to her eyes; but for the pleasant Light that within them is, shall sharpen thine The three beyond, who more profoundly look.’

Thus singing they began; and afterwards Unto the Griffin’s breast they led me with them, Where Beatrice was standing, turned towards us.

“See that thou dost not spare thine eyes,” they said; “Before the emeralds have we stationed thee, Whence Love aforetime drew for thee his weapons.”

A thousand longings, hotter than the flame, Fastened mine eyes upon those eyes relucent, That still upon the Griffin steadfast stayed.

As in a glass the sun, not otherwise Within them was the twofold monster shining, Now with the one, now with the other nature.

Think, Reader, if within myself I marvelled, When I beheld the thing itself stand still, And in its image it transformed itself.

While with amazement filled and jubilant, My soul was tasting of the food, that while It satisfies us makes us hunger for it,

Themselves revealing of the highest rank In bearing, did the other three advance, Singing to their angelic saraband.

“Turn, Beatrice, O turn thy holy eyes,” Such was their song, “unto thy faithful one, Who has to see thee ta’en so many steps.

In grace do us the grace that thou unveil Thy face to him, so that he may discern The second beauty which thou dost conceal.”

O splendour of the living light eternal! Who underneath the shadow of Parnassus Has grown so pale, or drunk so at its cistern,

He would not seem to have his mind encumbered Striving to paint thee as thou didst appear, Where the harmonious heaven o’ershadowed thee,

When in the open air thou didst unveil?

Purgatorio: Canto XXXII

So steadfast and attentive were mine eyes In satisfying their decennial thirst, That all my other senses were extinct,

And upon this side and on that they had Walls of indifference, so the holy smile Drew them unto itself with the old net

When forcibly my sight was turned away Towards my left hand by those goddesses, Because I heard from them a “Too intently!”

And that condition of the sight which is In eyes but lately smitten by the sun Bereft me of my vision some short while;

But to the less when sight re-shaped itself, I say the less in reference to the greater Splendour from which perforce I had withdrawn,

I saw upon its right wing wheeled about The glorious host returning with the sun And with the sevenfold flames upon their faces.

As underneath its shields, to save itself, A squadron turns, and with its banner wheels, Before the whole thereof can change its front,

That soldiery of the celestial kingdom Which marched in the advance had wholly passed us Before the chariot had turned its pole.

Then to the wheels the maidens turned themselves, And the Griffin moved his burden benedight, But so that not a feather of him fluttered.

The lady fair who drew me through the ford Followed with Statius and myself the wheel Which made its orbit with the lesser arc.

So passing through the lofty forest, vacant By fault of her who in the serpent trusted, Angelic music made our steps keep time.

Perchance as great a space had in three flights An arrow loosened from the string o’erpassed, As we had moved when Beatrice descended.

I heard them murmur altogether, “Adam!” Then circled they about a tree despoiled Of blooms and other leafage on each bough.

Its tresses, which so much the more dilate As higher they ascend, had been by Indians Among their forests marvelled at for height.

“Blessed art thou, O Griffin, who dost not Pluck with thy beak these branches sweet to taste, Since appetite by this was turned to evil.”

After this fashion round the tree robust The others shouted; and the twofold creature: “Thus is preserved the seed of all the just.”

And turning to the pole which he had dragged, He drew it close beneath the widowed bough, And what was of it unto it left bound.

In the same manner as our trees (when downward Falls the great light, with that together mingled Which after the celestial Lasca shines)

Begin to swell, and then renew themselves, Each one with its own colour, ere the Sun Harness his steeds beneath another star:

Less than of rose and more than violet A hue disclosing, was renewed the tree That had erewhile its boughs so desolate.

I never heard, nor here below is sung, The hymn which afterward that people sang, Nor did I bear the melody throughout.

Had I the power to paint how fell asleep Those eyes compassionless, of Syrinx hearing, Those eyes to which more watching cost so dear,

Even as a painter who from model paints I would portray how I was lulled asleep; He may, who well can picture drowsihood.

Therefore I pass to what time I awoke, And say a splendour rent from me the veil Of slumber, and a calling: “Rise, what dost thou?”

As to behold the apple-tree in blossom Which makes the Angels greedy for its fruit, And keeps perpetual bridals in the Heaven,

Peter and John and James conducted were, And, overcome, recovered at the word By which still greater slumbers have been broken,

And saw their school diminished by the loss Not only of Elias, but of Moses, And the apparel of their Master changed;

So I revived, and saw that piteous one Above me standing, who had been conductress Aforetime of my steps beside the river,

And all in doubt I said, “Where’s Beatrice?” And she: “Behold her seated underneath The leafage new, upon the root of it.

Behold the company that circles her; The rest behind the Griffin are ascending With more melodious song, and more profound.”

And if her speech were more diffuse I know not, Because already in my sight was she Who from the hearing of aught else had shut me.

Alone she sat upon the very earth, Left there as guardian of the chariot Which I had seen the biform monster fasten.

Encircling her, a cloister made themselves The seven Nymphs, with those lights in their hands Which are secure from Aquilon and Auster.

“Short while shalt thou be here a forester, And thou shalt be with me for evermore A citizen of that Rome where Christ is Roman.

Therefore, for that world’s good which liveth ill, Fix on the car thine eyes, and what thou seest, Having returned to earth, take heed thou write.”

Thus Beatrice; and I, who at the feet Of her commandments all devoted was, My mind and eyes directed where she willed.

Never descended with so swift a motion Fire from a heavy cloud, when it is raining From out the region which is most remote,

As I beheld the bird of Jove descend Down through the tree, rending away the bark, As well as blossoms and the foliage new,

And he with all his might the chariot smote, Whereat it reeled, like vessel in a tempest Tossed by the waves, now starboard and now larboard.

Thereafter saw I leap into the body Of the triumphal vehicle a Fox, That seemed unfed with any wholesome food.

But for his hideous sins upbraiding him, My Lady put him to as swift a flight As such a fleshless skeleton could bear.

Then by the way that it before had come, Into the chariot’s chest I saw the Eagle Descend, and leave it feathered with his plumes.

And such as issues from a heart that mourns, A voice from Heaven there issued, and it said: “My little bark, how badly art thou freighted!”

Methought, then, that the earth did yawn between Both wheels, and I saw rise from it a Dragon, Who through the chariot upward fixed his tail,

And as a wasp that draweth back its sting, Drawing unto himself his tail malign, Drew out the floor, and went his way rejoicing.

That which remained behind, even as with grass A fertile region, with the feathers, offered Perhaps with pure intention and benign,

Reclothed itself, and with them were reclothed The pole and both the wheels so speedily, A sigh doth longer keep the lips apart.

Transfigured thus the holy edifice Thrust forward heads upon the parts of it, Three on the pole and one at either corner.

The first were horned like oxen; but the four Had but a single horn upon the forehead; A monster such had never yet been seen!

Firm as a rock upon a mountain high, Seated upon it, there appeared to me A shameless whore, with eyes swift glancing round,

And, as if not to have her taken from him, Upright beside her I beheld a giant; And ever and anon they kissed each other.

But because she her wanton, roving eye Turned upon me, her angry paramour Did scourge her from her head unto her feet.

Then full of jealousy, and fierce with wrath, He loosed the monster, and across the forest Dragged it so far, he made of that alone

A shield unto the whore and the strange beast.

Purgatorio: Canto XXXIII

“Deus venerunt gentes,” alternating Now three, now four, melodious psalmody The maidens in the midst of tears began;

And Beatrice, compassionate and sighing, Listened to them with such a countenance, That scarce more changed was Mary at the cross.

But when the other virgins place had given For her to speak, uprisen to her feet With colour as of fire, she made response:

“‘Modicum, et non videbitis me; Et iterum,’ my sisters predilect, ‘Modicum, et vos videbitis me.’”

Then all the seven in front of her she placed; And after her, by beckoning only, moved Me and the lady and the sage who stayed.

So she moved onward; and I do not think That her tenth step was placed upon the ground, When with her eyes upon mine eyes she smote,

And with a tranquil aspect, “Come more quickly,” To me she said, “that, if I speak with thee, To listen to me thou mayst be well placed.”

As soon as I was with her as I should be, She said to me: “Why, brother, dost thou not Venture to question now, in coming with me?”

As unto those who are too reverential, Speaking in presence of superiors, Who drag no living utterance to their teeth,

It me befell, that without perfect sound Began I: “My necessity, Madonna, You know, and that which thereunto is good.”

And she to me: “Of fear and bashfulness Henceforward I will have thee strip thyself, So that thou speak no more as one who dreams.

Know that the vessel which the serpent broke Was, and is not; but let him who is guilty Think that God’s vengeance does not fear a sop.

Without an heir shall not for ever be The Eagle that left his plumes upon the car, Whence it became a monster, then a prey;

For verily I see, and hence narrate it, The stars already near to bring the time, From every hindrance safe, and every bar,

Within which a Five-hundred, Ten, and Five, One sent from God, shall slay the thievish woman And that same giant who is sinning with her.