Part 7

This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine, Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learn To sing aloud of men and of the Gods.

If other cause thou to my smile imputedst, Abandon it as false, and trust it was Those words which thou hast spoken concerning him.”

Already he was stooping to embrace My Teacher’s feet; but he said to him: “Brother, Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest.”

And he uprising: “Now canst thou the sum Of love which warms me to thee comprehend, When this our vanity I disremember,

Treating a shadow as substantial thing.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXII

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.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXIII

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.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXIV

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.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXV

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.