Purgatory Page 8

  For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need

  That fed it; in my vision straight uprose

  Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepar’d

  A damsel weeping loud, and cried, “O queen!

  For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.

  O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire

  Refuse we not to lend a ready foot

  Driv’n thee to loath thy being? Not to lose

  At such inviting: haste we to ascend,

  Lavinia, desp’rate thou hast slain thyself.

  Before it darken: for we may not then,

  Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears

  Till morn again return.” So spake my guide;

  Mourn, ere I fall, a mother’s timeless end.”

  And to one ladder both address’d our steps;

  E’en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly

  And the first stair approaching, I perceiv’d

  New radiance strike upon the closed lids,

  Near me as ‘twere the waving of a wing,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory That fann’d my face and whisper’d: “Blessed they

  If on ill object bent, or through excess

  The peacemakers: they know not evil wrath.”

  Of vigour, or defect. While e’er it seeks

  Now to such height above our heads were rais’d The primal blessings, or with measure due

  The last beams, follow’d close by hooded night,

  Th’ inferior, no delight, that flows from it,

  That many a star on all sides through the gloom

  Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,

  Shone out. “Why partest from me, O my strength?”

  Or with more ardour than behooves, or less.

  So with myself I commun’d; for I felt

  Pursue the good, the thing created then

  My o’ertoil’d sinews slacken. We had reach’d

  Works ‘gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer

  The summit, and were fix’d like to a bark

  That love is germin of each virtue in ye,

  Arriv’d at land. And waiting a short space,

  And of each act no less, that merits pain.

  If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,

  Now since it may not be, but love intend

  Then to my guide I turn’d, and said: “Lov’d sire!

  The welfare mainly of the thing it loves,

  Declare what guilt is on this circle purg’d.

  All from self-hatred are secure; and since

  If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause.”

  No being can be thought t’ exist apart

  He thus to me: “The love of good, whate’er

  And independent of the first, a bar

  Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.

  Of equal force restrains from hating that.

  Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter’d ill.

  “Grant the distinction just; and it remains

  But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,

  The’ evil must be another’s, which is lov’d.

  Give ear unto my words, and thou shalt cull

  Three ways such love is gender’d in your clay.

  Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.

  There is who hopes (his neighbour’s worth deprest,)

  “Creator, nor created being, ne’er,

  Preeminence himself, and coverts hence

  My son,” he thus began, “was without love,

  For his own greatness that another fall.

  Or natural, or the free spirit’s growth.

  There is who so much fears the loss of power,

  Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still

  Fame, favour, glory (should his fellow mount

  Is without error; but the other swerves,

  Above him), and so sickens at the thought,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory He loves their opposite: and there is he,

  Concluding, earnest in my looks inquir’d

  Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame

  If I appear’d content; and I, whom still

  That he doth thirst for vengeance, and such needs

  Unsated thirst to hear him urg’d, was mute,

  Must doat on other’s evil. Here beneath

  Mute outwardly, yet inwardly I said:

  This threefold love is mourn’d. Of th’ other sort

  “Perchance my too much questioning offends

  Be now instructed, that which follows good

  But he, true father, mark’d the secret wish

  But with disorder’d and irregular course.

  By diffidence restrain’d, and speaking, gave

  “All indistinctly apprehend a bliss

  Me boldness thus to speak: “Master, my Sight

  On which the soul may rest, the hearts of all

  Gathers so lively virtue from thy beams,

  Yearn after it, and to that wished bourn

  That all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.

  All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold

  Wherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heart

  Or seek it with a love remiss and lax,

  Holds dearest! thou wouldst deign by proof t’ unfold This cornice after just repenting lays

  That love, from which as from their source thou bring’st Its penal torment on ye. Other good

  All good deeds and their opposite.” He then:

  There is, where man finds not his happiness:

  “To what I now disclose be thy clear ken

  It is not true fruition, not that blest

  Directed, and thou plainly shalt behold

  Essence, of every good the branch and root.

  How much those blind have err’d, who make themselves The love too lavishly bestow’d on this,

  The guides of men. The soul, created apt

  Along three circles over us, is mourn’d.

  To love, moves versatile which way soe’er

  Account of that division tripartite

  Aught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is wak’d

  Expect not, fitter for thine own research.

  By pleasure into act. Of substance true

  Your apprehension forms its counterfeit,

  CANTO XVIII

  And in you the ideal shape presenting

  Attracts the soul’s regard. If she, thus drawn,

  The teacher ended, and his high discourse

  incline toward it, love is that inclining,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory And a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.

  By the green leaf. From whence his intellect

  Then as the fire points up, and mounting seeks

  Deduced its primal notices of things,

  His birth-place and his lasting seat, e’en thus

  Man therefore knows not, or his appetites

  Enters the captive soul into desire,

  Their first affections; such in you, as zeal

  Which is a spiritual motion, that ne’er rests

  In bees to gather honey; at the first,

  Before enjoyment of the thing it loves.

  Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise.

  Enough to show thee, how the truth from those

  But o’er each lower faculty supreme,

  Is hidden, who aver all love a thing

  That as she list are summon’d to her bar,

  Praise-worthy in itself: although perhaps

  Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice

  Its substance seem still good. Yet if the wax

  Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep

  Be good, it follows not th’ impression must.”

  The threshold of assent. Here is the source,

  “What love is,” I return’d, “thy words, O guide!

  Whence cause of merit in
you is deriv’d,

  And my own docile mind, reveal. Yet thence

  E’en as the affections good or ill she takes,

  New doubts have sprung. For from without if love

  Or severs, winnow’d as the chaff. Those men

  Be offer’d to us, and the spirit knows

  Who reas’ning went to depth profoundest, mark’d

  No other footing, tend she right or wrong,

  That innate freedom, and were thence induc’d

  Is no desert of hers.” He answering thus:

  To leave their moral teaching to the world.

  “What reason here discovers I have power

  Grant then, that from necessity arise

  To show thee: that which lies beyond, expect

  All love that glows within you; to dismiss

  From Beatrice, faith not reason’s task.

  Or harbour it, the pow’r is in yourselves.

  Spirit, substantial form, with matter join’d

  Remember, Beatrice, in her style,

  Not in confusion mix’d, hath in itself

  Denominates free choice by eminence

  Specific virtue of that union born,

  The noble virtue, if in talk with thee

  Which is not felt except it work, nor prov’d

  She touch upon that theme.” The moon, well nigh

  But through effect, as vegetable life

  To midnight hour belated, made the stars

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Appear to wink and fade; and her broad disk

  The others shouted; “let not time be lost

  Seem’d like a crag on fire, as up the vault

  Through slackness of affection. Hearty zeal

  That course she journey’d, which the sun then warms, To serve reanimates celestial grace.”

  When they of Rome behold him at his set.

  “O ye, in whom intenser fervency

  Betwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.

  Haply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail’d,

  And now the weight, that hung upon my thought,

  Slow or neglectful, to absolve your part

  Was lighten’d by the aid of that clear spirit,

  Of good and virtuous, this man, who yet lives,

  Who raiseth Andes above Mantua’s name.

  (Credit my tale, though strange) desires t’ ascend, I therefore, when my questions had obtain’d

  So morning rise to light us. Therefore say

  Solution plain and ample, stood as one

  Which hand leads nearest to the rifted rock?”

  Musing in dreary slumber; but not long

  So spake my guide, to whom a shade return’d:

  Slumber’d; for suddenly a multitude,

  “Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.

  The steep already turning, from behind,

  We may not linger: such resistless will

  Rush’d on. With fury and like random rout,

  Speeds our unwearied course. Vouchsafe us then

  As echoing on their shores at midnight heard

  Thy pardon, if our duty seem to thee

  Ismenus and Asopus, for his Thebes

  Discourteous rudeness. In Verona I

  If Bacchus’ help were needed; so came these

  Was abbot of San Zeno, when the hand

  Tumultuous, curving each his rapid step,

  Of Barbarossa grasp’d Imperial sway,

  By eagerness impell’d of holy love.

  That name, ne’er utter’d without tears in Milan.

  Soon they o’ertook us; with such swiftness mov’d And there is he, hath one foot in his grave,

  The mighty crowd. Two spirits at their head

  Who for that monastery ere long shall weep,

  Cried weeping; “Blessed Mary sought with haste

  Ruing his power misus’d: for that his son,

  The hilly region. Caesar to subdue

  Of body ill compact, and worse in mind,

  Ilerda, darted in Marseilles his sting,

  And born in evil, he hath set in place

  And flew to Spain.”—”Oh tarry not: away;”

  Of its true pastor.” Whether more he spake,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Or here was mute, I know not: he had sped

  When ‘fore me in my dream a woman’s shape

  E’en now so far beyond us. Yet thus much

  There came, with lips that stammer’d, eyes aslant,

  I heard, and in rememb’rance treasur’d it.

  Distorted feet, hands maim’d, and colour pale.

  He then, who never fail’d me at my need,

  I look’d upon her; and as sunshine cheers

  Cried, “Hither turn. Lo! two with sharp remorse

  Limbs numb’d by nightly cold, e’en thus my look

  Chiding their sin!” In rear of all the troop

  Unloos’d her tongue, next in brief space her form

  These shouted: “First they died, to whom the sea

  Decrepit rais’d erect, and faded face

  Open’d, or ever Jordan saw his heirs:

  With love’s own hue illum’d. Recov’ring speech

  And they, who with Aeneas to the end

  She forthwith warbling such a strain began,

  Endur’d not suffering, for their portion chose

  That I, how loth soe’er, could scarce have held

  Life without glory.” Soon as they had fled

  Attention from the song. “I,” thus she sang,

  Past reach of sight, new thought within me rose

  “I am the Siren, she, whom mariners

  By others follow’d fast, and each unlike

  On the wide sea are wilder’d when they hear:

  Its fellow: till led on from thought to thought,

  Such fulness of delight the list’ner feels.

  And pleasur’d with the fleeting train, mine eye

  I from his course Ulysses by my lay

  Was clos’d, and meditation chang’d to dream.

  Enchanted drew. Whoe’er frequents me once

  Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart

  CANTO XIX

  Contented knows no void.” Or ere her mouth

  Was clos’d, to shame her at her side appear’d

  It was the hour, when of diurnal heat

  A dame of semblance holy. With stern voice

  No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,

  She utter’d; “Say, O Virgil, who is this?”

  O’erpower’d by earth, or planetary sway

  Which hearing, he approach’d, with eyes still bent

  Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees

  Toward that goodly presence: th’ other seiz’d her,

  His Greater Fortune up the east ascend,

  And, her robes tearing, open’d her before,

  Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;

  And show’d the belly to me, whence a smell,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Exhaling loathsome, wak’d me. Round I turn’d

  Or room or entrance.—”Hast thou seen,” said he,

  Mine eyes, and thus the teacher: “At the least

  “That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone

  Three times my voice hath call’d thee. Rise, begone.

  The spirits o’er us weep for? Hast thou seen

  Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass.”

  How man may free him of her bonds? Enough.

  I straightway rose. Now day, pour’d down from high, Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais’d ken

  Fill’d all the circuits of the sacred mount;

  Fix on the lure, which heav’n’s eternal King

  And, as we journey’d, on our shoulder smote

  Whirls in the rolling spheres.” As on his feet

  The early ray. I follow’d, stooping low

  The falcon first l
ooks down, then to the sky

  My forehead, as a man, o’ercharg’d with thought,

  Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food,

  Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,

  That woos him thither; so the call I heard,

  That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,

  So onward, far as the dividing rock

  “Come, enter here,” in tone so soft and mild,

  Gave way, I journey’d, till the plain was reach’d.

  As never met the ear on mortal strand.

  On the fifth circle when I stood at large,

  With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up, A race appear’d before me, on the ground

  Who thus had spoken marshal’d us along,

  All downward lying prone and weeping sore.

  Where each side of the solid masonry

  “My soul hath cleaved to the dust,” I heard

  The sloping, walls retir’d; then mov’d his plumes,

  With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak’d the words.

  And fanning us, affirm’d that those, who mourn,

  “O ye elect of God, whose penal woes

  Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.

  Both hope and justice mitigate, direct

  “What aileth thee, that still thou look’st to earth?”

  Tow’rds the steep rising our uncertain way.”

  Began my leader; while th’ angelic shape

  “If ye approach secure from this our doom,

  A little over us his station took.

  Prostration—and would urge your course with speed,

  “New vision,” I replied, “hath rais’d in me

  See that ye still to rightward keep the brink.”

  Surmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereon

  So them the bard besought; and such the words, My soul intent allows no other thought

  Beyond us some short space, in answer came.

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory I noted what remain’d yet hidden from them:

  Rome’s pastor, I discern’d at once the dream

  Thence to my liege’s eyes mine eyes I bent,

  And cozenage of life, saw that the heart

  And he, forthwith interpreting their suit,

  Rested not there, and yet no prouder height

  Beckon’d his glad assent. Free then to act,

  Lur’d on the climber: wherefore, of that life

  As pleas’d me, I drew near, and took my stand

  No more enamour’d, in my bosom love

  O‘er that shade, whose words I late had mark’d.

  Of purer being kindled. For till then

  And, “Spirit!” I said, “in whom repentant tears