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Divine Comedy

<h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXII</h2> 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.” <h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXIII</h2> 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.” <h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXIV</h2> 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.” <h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXV</h2> 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. <h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXVI</h2> 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! <h2>Purgatorio: Canto XXVII</h2> 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!” <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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