Part 12

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.

And then the others, sweetly and devoutly, Accompanied it through all the hymn entire, Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.

Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth, For now indeed so subtile is the veil, Surely to penetrate within is easy.

I saw that army of the gentle-born Thereafterward in silence upward gaze, As if in expectation, pale and humble;

And from on high come forth and down descend, I saw two Angels with two flaming swords, Truncated and deprived of their points.

Green as the little leaflets just now born Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.

One just above us came to take his station, And one descended to the opposite bank, So that the people were contained between them.

Clearly in them discerned I the blond head; But in their faces was the eye bewildered, As faculty confounded by excess.

“From Mary’s bosom both of them have come,” Sordello said, “as guardians of the valley Against the serpent, that will come anon.”

Whereupon I, who knew not by what road, Turned round about, and closely drew myself, Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.

And once again Sordello: “Now descend we ’Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them; Right pleasant will it be for them to see you.”

Only three steps I think that I descended, And was below, and saw one who was looking Only at me, as if he fain would know me.

Already now the air was growing dark, But not so that between his eyes and mine It did not show what it before locked up.

Tow’rds me he moved, and I tow’rds him did move; Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted, When I beheld thee not among the damned!

No greeting fair was left unsaid between us; Then asked he: “How long is it since thou camest O’er the far waters to the mountain’s foot?”

“Oh!” said I to him, “through the dismal places I came this morn; and am in the first life, Albeit the other, going thus, I gain.”

And on the instant my reply was heard, He and Sordello both shrank back from me, Like people who are suddenly bewildered.

One to Virgilius, and the other turned To one who sat there, crying, “Up, Currado! Come and behold what God in grace has willed!”

Then, turned to me: “By that especial grace Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals His own first wherefore, that it has no ford,

When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide, Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me, Where answer to the innocent is made.

I do not think her mother loves me more, Since she has laid aside her wimple white, Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.

Through her full easily is comprehended How long in woman lasts the fire of love, If eye or touch do not relight it often.

So fair a hatchment will not make for her The Viper marshalling the Milanese A-field, as would have made Gallura’s Cock.”

In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal Which measurably burneth in the heart.

My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven, Still to that point where slowest are the stars, Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.

And my Conductor: “Son, what dost thou gaze at Up there?” And I to him: “At those three torches With which this hither pole is all on fire.”

And he to me: “The four resplendent stars Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low, And these have mounted up to where those were.”

As he was speaking, to himself Sordello Drew him, and said, “Lo there our Adversary!” And pointed with his finger to look thither.

Upon the side on which the little valley No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance The same which gave to Eve the bitter food.

’Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak, Turning at times its head about, and licking Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself.

I did not see, and therefore cannot say How the celestial falcons ’gan to move, But well I saw that they were both in motion.

Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings, The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled, Up to their stations flying back alike.

The shade that to the Judge had near approached When he had called, throughout that whole assault Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me.

“So may the light that leadeth thee on high Find in thine own free-will as much of wax As needful is up to the highest azure,”

Began it, “if some true intelligence Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.

Currado Malaspina was I called; I’m not the elder, but from him descended; To mine I bore the love which here refineth.”

“O,” said I unto him, “through your domains I never passed, but where is there a dwelling Throughout all Europe, where they are not known?

That fame, which doeth honour to your house, Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land, So that he knows of them who ne’er was there.

And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you Your honoured family in naught abates The glory of the purse and of the sword.

It is so privileged by use and nature, That though a guilty head misguide the world, Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way.”

And he: “Now go; for the sun shall not lie Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram With all his four feet covers and bestrides,

Before that such a courteous opinion Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed With greater nails than of another’s speech,

Unless the course of justice standeth still.”

Purgatorio: Canto IX