DIVINE COMEDY

PURGATORY CANTOS I-X

DANTE ALIGHIERI

O'er better waves to speed her rapid course The light bark of my genius lifts the sail, Well pleas'd to leave so cruel sea behind; And of that second region will I sing, In which the human spirit from sinful blot Is purg'd, and for ascent to Heaven prepares. Here, O ye hallow'd Nine! for in your train I follow, here the deadened strain revive; Nor let Calliope refuse to sound A somewhat higher song, of that loud tone, Which when the wretched birds of chattering note Had heard, they of forgiveness lost all hope. Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread O'er the serene aspect of the pure air, High up as the first circle, to mine eyes Unwonted joy renew'd, soon as I 'scap'd Forth from the atmosphere of deadly gloom, That had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief. The radiant planet, that to love invites, Made all the orient laugh, and veil'd beneath The Pisces' light, that in his escort came.

2 To the right hand I turn'd, and fix'd my mind On the' other pole attentive, where I saw Four stars ne'er seen before save by the ken Of our first parents. Heaven of their rays Seem'd joyous. O thou northern site, bereft Indeed, and widow'd, since of these depriv'd! As from this view I had desisted, straight Turning a little tow'rds the other pole, There from whence now the wain had disappear'd, I saw an old man standing by my side Alone, so worthy of rev'rence in his look, That ne'er from son to father more was ow'd. Low down his beard and mix'd with hoary white Descended, like his locks, which parting fell Upon his breast in double fold. The beams Of those four luminaries on his face So brightly shone, and with such radiance clear Deck'd it, that I beheld him as the sun. "Say who are ye, that stemming the blind stream, Forth from th' eternal prison-house have fled?"

3 He spoke and moved those venerable plumes. "Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure Lights you emerging from the depth of night, That makes the infernal valley ever black? Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain'd, That thus, condemn'd, ye to my caves approach?" My guide, then laying hold on me, by words And intimations given with hand and head, Made my bent knees and eye submissive pay Due reverence; then thus to him replied. "Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven Descending, had besought me in my charge To bring. But since thy will implies, that more Our true condition I unfold at large, Mine is not to deny thee thy request.

4 This mortal ne'er hath seen the farthest gloom. But erring by his folly had approach'd So near, that little space was left to turn. Then, as before I told, I was dispatch'd To work his rescue, and no way remain'd Save this which I have ta'en. I have display'd Before him all the regions of the bad; And purpose now those spirits to display, That under thy command are purg'd from sin. How I have brought him would be long to say. From high descends the virtue, by whose aid I to thy sight and hearing him have led. Now may our coming please thee. In the search Of liberty he journeys: that how dear They know, who for her sake have life refus'd. Thou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet In Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds, That in the last great day will shine so bright. For us the' eternal edicts are unmov'd: He breathes, and I am free of Minos' power, Abiding in that circle where the eyes Of thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look Prays thee, O hallow'd spirit! to own her shine.

5 Then by her love we' implore thee, let us pass Through thy sev'n regions; for which best thanks I for thy favour will to her return, If mention there below thou not disdain." "Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found," He then to him rejoin'd, "while I was there, That all she ask'd me I was fain to grant. Now that beyond the' accursed stream she dwells, She may no longer move me, by that law, Which was ordain'd me, when I issued thence. Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst, Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs. Enough for me that in her name thou ask. Go therefore now: and with a slender reed See that thou duly gird him, and his face Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence. For not with eye, by any cloud obscur'd, Would it be seemly before him to come, Who stands the foremost minister in heaven. This islet all around, there far beneath, Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed Produces store of reeds.

6 No other plant, Cover'd with leaves, or harden'd in its stalk, There lives, not bending to the water's sway. After, this way return not; but the sun Will show you, that now rises, where to take The mountain in its easiest ascent." He disappear'd; and I myself uprais'd Speechless, and to my guide retiring close, Toward him turn'd mine eyes. He thus began; "My son! observant thou my steps pursue. We must retreat to rearward, for that way The champain to its low extreme declines." The dawn had chas'd the matin hour of prime, Which deaf before it, so that from afar I spy'd the trembling of the ocean stream. We travers'd the deserted plain, as one Who, wander'd from his track, thinks every step Trodden in vain till he regain the path. When we had come, where yet the tender dew Strove with the sun, and in a place, where fresh The wind breath'd o'er it, while it slowly dried; Both hands extended on the watery grass My master plac'd, in graceful act and kind.

7 Whence I of his intent before appriz'd, Stretch'd out to him my cheeks suffus'd with tears. There to my visage he anew restor'd That hue, which the dun shades of hell conceal'd. Then on the solitary shore arriv'd, That never sailing on its waters saw Man, that could after measure back his course, He girt me in such manner as had pleas'd Him who instructed, and O, strange to tell! As he selected every humble plant, Wherever one was pluck'd, another there Resembling, straightway in its place arose.

CANTO II

8 Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd, That covers, with the most exalted point Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls, And night, that opposite to him her orb Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued forth, Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp'd When she reigns highest: so that where I was, Aurora's white and vermeil-tinctur'd cheek To orange turn'd as she in age increas'd. Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink, Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought Journey, while motionless the body rests. When lo! as near upon the hour of dawn, Through the thick vapours Mars with fiery beam Glares down in west, over the ocean floor; So seem'd, what once again I hope to view, A light so swiftly coming through the sea, No winged course might equal its career.

8 From which when for a space I had withdrawn Thine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide, Again I look'd and saw it grown in size And brightness: thou on either side appear'd Something, but what I knew not of bright hue, And by degrees from underneath it came Another. My preceptor silent yet Stood, while the brightness, that we first discern'd, Open'd the form of wings: then when he knew The pilot, cried aloud, "Down, down; bend low Thy knees; behold God's angel: fold thy hands: Now shalt thou see true Ministers indeed. Lo how all human means he sets at naught! So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail Except his wings, between such distant shores. Lo how straight up to heaven he holds them rear'd, Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes, That not like mortal hairs fall off or change!" As more and more toward us came, more bright Appear'd the bird of God, nor could the eye Endure his splendor near: I mine bent down. He drove ashore in a small bark so swift And light, that in its course no wave it drank.

9 The heav'nly steersman at the prow was seen, Visibly written blessed in his looks. Within a hundred spirits and more there sat. "In Exitu Israel de Aegypto;" All with one voice together sang, with what In the remainder of that hymn is writ. Then soon as with the sign of holy cross He bless'd them, they at once leap'd out on land, The swiftly as he came return'd. The crew, There left, appear'd astounded with the place, Gazing around as one who sees new sights. From every side the sun darted his beams, And with his arrowy radiance from mid heav'n Had chas'd the Capricorn, when that strange tribe Lifting their eyes towards us: If ye know, Declare what path will Lead us to the mount." Them Virgil answer'd. "Ye suppose perchance Us well acquainted with this place: but here, We, as yourselves, are strangers. Not long erst We came, before you but a little space, By other road so rough and hard, that now The' ascent will seem to us as play."

10 The spirits, Who from my breathing had perceiv'd I liv'd, Grew pale with wonder. As the multitude Flock round a herald, sent with olive branch, To hear what news he brings, and in their haste Tread one another down, e'en so at sight Of me those happy spirits were fix'd, each one Forgetful of its errand, to depart, Where cleans'd from sin, it might be made all fair. Then one I saw darting before the rest With such fond ardour to embrace me, I To do the like was mov'd. O shadows vain Except in outward semblance! thrice my hands I clasp'd behind it, they as oft return'd Empty into my breast again. Surprise I needs must think was painted in my looks, For that the shadow smil'd and backward drew. To follow it I hasten'd, but with voice Of sweetness it enjoin'd me to desist. Then who it was I knew, and pray'd of it, To talk with me, it would a little pause. It answered: "Thee as in my mortal frame I lov'd, so loos'd forth it I love thee still, And therefore pause; but why walkest thou here?"

11 "Not without purpose once more to return, Thou find'st me, my Casella, where I am Journeying this way;" I said, "but how of thee Hath so much time been lost?" He answer'd straight: "No outrage hath been done to me, if he Who when and whom he chooses takes, me oft This passage hath denied, since of just will His will he makes. These three months past indeed, He, whose chose to enter, with free leave Hath taken; whence I wand'ring by the shore Where Tyber's wave grows salt, of him gain'd kind Admittance, at that river's mouth, tow'rd which His wings are pointed, for there always throng All such as not to Archeron descend." Then I: "If new laws have not quite destroy'd Memory and use of that sweet song of love, That while all my cares had power to 'swage; Please thee with it a little to console My spirit, that incumber'd with its frame, Travelling so far, of pain is overcome."

12 "Love that discourses in my thoughts." He then Began in such soft accents, that within The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide And all who came with him, so well were pleas'd, That seem'd naught else might in their thoughts have room. Fast fix'd in mute attention to his notes We stood, when lo! that old man venerable Exclaiming, "How is this, ye tardy spirits? What negligence detains you loit'ring here? Run to the mountain to cast off those scales, That from your eyes the sight of God conceal." As a wild flock of pigeons, to their food Collected, blade or tares, without their pride Accustom'd, and in still and quiet sort, If aught alarm them, suddenly desert Their meal, assail'd by more important care; So I that new-come troop beheld, the song Deserting, hasten to the mountain's side, As one who goes yet where he tends knows not. Nor with less hurried step did we depart.

CANTO III

13 Them sudden flight had scatter'd over the plain, Turn'd tow'rds the mountain, whither reason's voice Drives us; I to my faithful company Adhering, left it not. For how of him Depriv'd, might I have sped, or who beside Would o'er the mountainous tract have led my steps He with the bitter pang of self-remorse Seem'd smitten. O clear conscience and upright How doth a little fling wound thee sore! Soon as his feet desisted (slack'ning pace), From haste, that mars all decency of act, My mind, that in itself before was wrapt, Its thoughts expanded, as with joy restor'd: And full against the steep ascent I set My face, where highest to heav'n its top o'erflows.

14 The sun, that flar'd behind, with ruddy beam Before my form was broken; for in me His rays resistance met. I turn'd aside With fear of being left, when I beheld Only before myself the ground obscur'd. When thus my solace, turning him around, Bespake me kindly: "Why distrustest thou? Believ'st not I am with thee, thy sure guide? It now is evening there, where buried lies The body, in which I cast a shade, remov'd To Naples from Brundusium's wall. Nor thou Marvel, if before me no shadow fall, More than that in the sky element One ray obstructs not other. To endure Torments of heat and cold extreme, like frames That virtue hath dispos'd, which how it works Wills not to us should be reveal'd. Insane Who hopes, our reason may that space explore, Which holds three persons in one substance knit.

15 Seek not the wherefore, race of human kind; Could ye have seen the whole, no need had been For Mary to bring forth. Moreover ye Have seen such men desiring fruitlessly; To whose desires repose would have been giv'n, That now but serve them for eternal grief. I speak of Plato, and the Stagyrite, And others many more." And then he bent Downwards his forehead, and in troubled mood Broke off his speech. Meanwhile we had arriv'd Far as the mountain's foot, and there the rock Found of so steep ascent, that nimblest steps To climb it had been vain. The most remote Most wild untrodden path, in all the tract 'Twixt Lerice and Turbia were to this A ladder easy' and open of access. "Who knows on which hand now the steep declines?" My master said and paus'd, "so that he may Ascend, who journeys without aid of wine,?"

16 And while with looks directed to the ground The meaning of the pathway he explor'd, And I gaz'd upward round the stony height, Of spirits, that toward us mov'd their steps, Yet moving seem'd not, they so slow approach'd. I thus my guide address'd: "Upraise thine eyes, Lo that way some, of whom thou may'st obtain Counsel, if of thyself thou find'st it not!" Straightway he look'd, and with free speech replied: "Let us tend thither: they but softly come. And thou be firm in hope, my son belov'd." Now was that people distant far in space A thousand paces behind ours, as much As at a throw the nervous arm could fling, When all drew backward on the messy crags Of the steep bank, and firmly stood unmov'd As one who walks in doubt might stand to look.

17 "O spirits perfect! O already chosen!" Virgil to them began, "by that blest peace, Which, as I deem, is for you all prepar'd, Instruct us where the mountain low declines, So that attempt to mount it be not vain. For who knows most, him loss of time most grieves." As sheep, that step from forth their fold, by one, Or pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest Stand fearfully, bending the eye and nose To ground, and what the foremost does, that do The others, gath'ring round her, if she stops, Simple and quiet, nor the cause discern; So saw I moving to advance the first, Who of that fortunate crew were at the head, Of modest mien and graceful in their gait. When they before me had beheld the light From my right side fall broken on the ground, So that the shadow reach'd the cave, they stopp'd And somewhat back retir'd: the same did all, Who follow'd, though unweeting of the cause "Unask'd of you, yet freely I confess, This is a human body which ye see.

18 That the sun's light is broken on the ground, Marvel not: but believe, that not without Virtue deriv'd from Heaven, we to climb Over this wall aspire." So them bespake My master; and that virtuous tribe rejoin'd; " Turn, and before you there the entrance lies," Making a signal to us with bent hands. Then of them one began. "Whoe'er thou art, Who journey'st thus this way, thy visage turn, Think if me elsewhere thou hast ever seen." I tow'rds him turn'd, and with fix'd eye beheld. Comely, and fair, and gentle of aspect, He seem'd, but on one brow a gash was mark'd. When humbly I disclaim'd to have beheld Him ever: "Now behold!" he said, and show'd High on his breast a wound: then smiling spake.

19 "I am Manfredi, grandson to the Queen Costanza: whence I pray thee, when return'd, To my fair daughter go, the parent glad Of Aragonia and Sicilia's pride; And of the truth inform her, if of me Aught else be told. When by two mortal blows My frame was shatter'd, I betook myself Weeping to him, who of free will forgives. My sins were horrible; but so wide arms Hath goodness infinite, that it receives All who turn to it. Had this text divine Been of Cosenza's shepherd better scann'd, Who then by Clement on my hunt was set, Yet at the bridge's head my bones had lain, Near Benevento, by the heavy mole Protected; but the rain now drenches them, And the wind drives, out of the kingdom's bounds, Far as the stream of Verde, where, with lights Extinguish'd, he remov'd them from their bed.

20 Yet by their curse we are not so destroy'd, But that the eternal love may turn, while hope Retains her verdant blossoms. True it is, That such one as in contumacy dies Against the holy church, though he repent, Must wander thirty-fold for all the time In his presumption past; if such decree Be not by prayers of good men shorter made Look therefore if thou canst advance my bliss; Revealing to my good Costanza, how Thou hast beheld me, and beside the terms Laid on me of that interdict; for here By means of those below much profit comes."

CANTO IV

21 When by sensations of delight or pain, That any of our faculties hath seiz'd, Entire the soul collects herself, it seems She is intent upon that power alone, And thus the error is disprov'd which holds The soul not singly lighted in the breast. And therefore when as aught is heard or seen, That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn'd, Time passes, and a man perceives it not. For that, whereby he hearken, is one power, Another that, which the whole spirit hash; This is as it were bound, while that is free.

22 This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit And wond'ring; for full fifty steps aloft The sun had measur'd unobserv'd of me, When we arriv'd where all with one accord The spirits shouted, "Here is what ye ask." A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp'd With forked stake of thorn by villager, When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path, By which my guide, and I behind him close, Ascended solitary, when that troop Departing left us. On Sanleo's road Who journeys, or to Noli low descends, Or mounts Bismantua's height, must use his feet; But here a man had need to fly, I mean With the swift wing and plumes of high desire, Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope, And with light furnish'd to direct my way.

23 We through the broken rock ascended, close Pent on each side, while underneath the ground Ask'd help of hands and feet. When we arriv'd Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank, Where the plain level open'd I exclaim'd, "O master! say which way can we proceed?" He answer'd, "Let no step of thine recede. Behind me gain the mountain, till to us Some practis'd guide appear." That eminence Was lofty that no eye might reach its point, And the side proudly rising, more than line From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn. I wearied thus began: "Parent belov'd! Turn, and behold how I remain alone, If thou stay not." --" My son!"

24 He straight reply'd, "Thus far put forth thy strength; "and to a track Pointed, that, on this side projecting, round Circles the hill. His words so spurr'd me on, That I behind him clamb'ring, forc'd myself, Till my feet press'd the circuit plain beneath. There both together seated, turn'd we round To eastward, whence was our ascent: and oft Many beside have with delight look'd back. First on the nether shores I turn'd my eyes, Then rais'd them to the sun, and wond'ring mark'd That from the left it smote us. Soon perceiv'd That Poet sage how at the car of light Amaz'd I stood, where 'twixt us and the north Its course it enter'd. Whence he thus to me:

25 "Were Leda's offspring now in company Of that broad mirror, that high up and low Imparts his light beneath, thou might'st behold The ruddy zodiac nearer to the bears Wheel, if its ancient course it not forsook. How that may be if thou would'st think; within Pond'ring, imagine Sion with this mount Plac'd on the earth, so that to both be one Horizon, and two hemispheres apart, Where lies the path that Phaeton ill knew To guide his erring chariot: thou wilt see How of necessity by this on one He passes, while by that on the' other side, If with clear view shine intellect attend." "Of truth, kind teacher!" I exclaim'd, "so clear Aught saw I never, as I now discern Where seem'd my ken to fail, that the mid orb Of the supernal motion (which in terms Of art is called the Equator, and remains Ever between the sun and winter) for the cause Thou hast assign'd, from hence toward the north Departs, when those who in the Hebrew land Inhabit, see it tow'rds the warmer part.

26 But if it please thee, I would gladly know, How far we have to journey: for the hill Mounts higher, than this sight of mine can mount." He thus to me: "Such is this steep ascent, That it is ever difficult at first, But, more a man proceeds, less evil grows. When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much That upward going shall be easy to thee. As in a vessel to go down the tide, Then of this path thou wilt have reach'd the end. There hope to rest thee from thy toil. No more I answer, and thus far for certain know." As he his words had spoken, near to us A voice there sounded: "Yet ye first perchance May to repose you by constraint be led." At sound thereof each turn'd, and on the left A huge stone we beheld, of which nor I Nor he before was ware.

27 Thither we drew, find there were some, who in the shady place Behind the rock were standing, as a man Thru' idleness might stand. Among them one, Who seem'd to me much wearied, sat him down, And with his arms did fold his knees about, Holding his face between them downward bent. "Sweet Sir!" I cry'd, "behold that man, who shows Himself more idle, than if laziness Were sister to him." Straight he turn'd to us, And, o'er the thigh lifting his face, observ'd, Then in these accents spake: "Up then, proceed Thou valiant one." Straight who it was I knew; Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath Still somewhat urg'd me) hinder my approach. And when I came to him, he scarce his head Uplifted, saying "Well hast thou discern'd, How from the left the sun his chariot leads." His lazy acts and broken words my lips To laughter somewhat mov'd; when I began:

28 "Belacqua, now for thee I grieve no more. But tell, why thou art seated upright there? Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence? Or blame I only shine accustom'd ways?" Then he: "My brother, of what use to mount, When to my suffering would not let me pass The bird of God, who at the portal sits? Behooves so long that heav'n first bear me round Without its limits, as in life it bore, Because I to the end repentant Sighs Delay'd, if prayer do not aid me first, That riseth up from heart which lives in grace. What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?"' Before me now the Poet up the mount Ascending, cried: "Haste thee, for see the sun Has touch'd the point meridian, and the night Now covers with her foot Marocco's shore."

CANTO V

29 Now had I left those spirits, and pursued The steps of my Conductor, when beheld Pointing the finger at me one exclaim'd: "See how it seems as if the light not shone From the left hand of him beneath, and he, As living, seems to be led on." Mine eyes I at that sound reverting, saw them gaze Through wonder first at me, and then at me And the light broken underneath, by turns. "Why are thy thoughts thus riveted?" my guide Exclaim'd, "that thou hast slack'd thy pace? or how Imports it thee, what thing is whisper'd here? Come after me, and to their babblings leave The crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set, Shakes not its top for any blast that blows!

30 He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out, Still of his aim is wide, in that the one Sicklies and wastes to nought the other's strength." What other could I answer save "I come?" I said it, somewhat with that colour ting'd Which ofttimes pardon meriteth for man. Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came, A little way before us, some who sang The "Miserere" in responsive Strains. When they perceiv'd that through my body I Gave way not for the rays to pass, their song Straight to a long and hoarse exclaim they chang'd; And two of them, in guise of messengers, Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask'd: Of your condition we would gladly learn." To them my guide. "Ye may return, and bear Tidings to them who sent you, that his frame Is real flesh. If, as I deem, to view His shade they paus'd, enough is answer'd them.

31 Him let them honour, they may prize him well." Ne'er saw I fiery vapours with such speed Cut through the serene air at fall of night, Nor August's clouds athwart the setting sun, That upward these did not in shorter space Return; and, there arriving, with the rest Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop. "Many," exclaim'd the bard, "are these, who throng Around us: to petition thee they come. Go therefore on, and listen as thou go'st." "O spirit! who go'st on to blessedness With the same limbs, that clad thee at thy birth." Shouting they came, "a little rest thy step. Look if thou any one amongst our tribe Hast e'er beheld, that tidings of him there Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go'st thou on? Ah wherefore tarriest thou not?

32 We all By violence died, and to our latest hour Were sinners, but then warn'd by light from heav'n, So that, repenting and forgiving, we Did issue out of life at peace with God, Who with desire to see him fills our heart." Then I: "The visages of all I scan Yet none of ye remember. But if aught, That I can do, may please you, gentle spirits! Speak; and I will perform it, by that peace, Which on the steps of guide so excellent Following from world to world intent I seek." In answer he began: "None here distrusts Thy kindness, though not promis'd with an oath; So as the will fail not for want of power. Whence I, who sole before the others speak, Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land, Which lies between Romagna and the realm Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray Those who inhabit Fano, that for me Their adorations duly be put up, By which I may purge off my grievous sins.

33 From thence I came. But the deep passages, Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt, Upon my bosom in Antenor's land Were made, where to be more secure I thought. The author of the deed was Este's prince, Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrath Pursued me. Had I towards Mira fled, When overta'en at Oriaco, still Might I have breath'd. But to the marsh I sped, And in the mire and rushes tangled there Fell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain." Then said another: "Ah! so may the wish, That takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd, As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine. Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I: Giovanna nor none else have care for me, Sorrowing with these I therefore go." I thus: "From Campaldino's field what force or chance Drew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?"

34 "Oh!" answer'd he, "at Casentino's foot A stream there courseth, nam'd Archiano, sprung In Apennine above the Hermit's seat. E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I, Pierc'd in the heart, fleeing away on foot, And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech Fail'd me, and finishing with Mary's name I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd. I will report the truth; which thou again0 Tell to the living. Me God's angel took, Whilst he of hell exclaim'd: "O thou from heav'n! Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of him Th' eternal portion bear'st with thee away For one poor tear that he deprives me of. But of the other, other rule I make." "Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects That vapour dank, returning into water, Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it. That evil will, which in his intellect Still follows evil, came, and rais'd the wind And smoky mist, by virtue of the power Given by his nature.

35 Thence the valley, soon As day was spent, he cover'd o'er with cloud From Pratomagno to the mountain range, And stretch'd the sky above, so that the air Impregnate chang'd to water. Fell the rain, And to the fosses came all that the land Contain'd not; and, as mightiest streams are wont, To the great river with such headlong sweep Rush'd, that nought stay'd its course. My stiffen'd frame Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found, And dash'd it into Arno, from my breast Loos'ning the cross, that of myself I made When overcome with pain. He hurl'd me on, Along the banks and bottom of his course; Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt." "Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return'd, And rested after thy long road," so spake Next the third spirit; "then remember me. I once was Pia. Sienna gave me life, Maremma took it from me. That he knows, Who me with jewell'd ring had first espous'd."

CANTO VI

36 When from their game of dice men separate, He, who hath lost, remains in sadness fix'd, Revolving in his mind, what luckless throws He cast: but meanwhile all the company Go with the other; one before him runs, And one behind his mantle twitches, one Fast by his side bids him remember him. He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand Is stretch'd, well knows he bids him stand aside; And thus he from the press defends himself.

37 E'en such was I in that close-crowding throng; And turning so my face around to all, And promising, I 'scap'd from it with pains. Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell By Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside, Who in his chase was swallow'd by the stream. Here Frederic Novello, with his hand Stretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, Who put the good Marzuco to such proof Of constancy. Count Orso I beheld; And from its frame a soul dismiss'd for spite And envy, as it said, but for no crime: I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here, While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant Let her beware; lest for so false a deed She herd with worse than these. When I was freed From all those spirits, who pray'd for others' prayers To hasten on their state of blessedness; Straight I began: "O thou, my luminary! It seems expressly in thy text denied, That heaven's supreme decree can never bend To supplication; yet with this design Do these entreat. Can then their hope be vain, Or is thy saying not to me reveal'd?"

38 He thus to me: "Both what I write is plain, And these deceiv'd not in their hope, if well Thy mind consider, that the sacred height Of judgment doth not stoop, because love's flame In a short moment all fulfils, which he Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy. Besides, when I this point concluded thus, By praying no defect could be supplied; Because the pray'r had none access to God. Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not Contented unless she assure thee so, Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light. I know not if thou take me right; I mean Beatrice. Her thou shalt behold above, Upon this mountain's crown, fair seat of joy." Then I: "Sir! let us mend our speed; for now I tire not as before; and lo! the hill Stretches its shadow far." He answer'd thus: "Our progress with this day shall be as much As we may now dispatch; but otherwise Than thou supposest is the truth.

39 For there Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold Him back returning, who behind the steep Is now so hidden, that as erst his beam Thou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there Stands solitary, and toward us looks: It will instruct us in the speediest way." We soon approach'd it. O thou Lombard spirit! How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood, Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes! It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass, Eyeing us as a lion on his watch. I3ut Virgil with entreaty mild advanc'd, Requesting it to show the best ascent. It answer to his question none return'd, But of our country and our kind of life Demanded. When my courteous guide began, "Mantua," the solitary shadow quick Rose towards us from the place in which it stood, And cry'd, "Mantuan! I am thy countryman Sordello."

40 Each the other then embrac'd. Ah slavish Italy! thou inn of grief, Vessel without a pilot in loud storm, Lady no longer of fair provinces, But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit, Ev'n from the Pleasant sound of his dear land Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen With such glad cheer; while now thy living ones In thee abide not without war; and one Malicious gnaws another, ay of those Whom the same wall and the same moat contains, Seek, wretched one! around thy sea-coasts wide; Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and mark If any part of the sweet peace enjoy. What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand Befitted, if thy saddle be unpress'd?

41 Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame. Ah people! thou obedient still shouldst live, And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit, If well thou marked'st that which God commands Look how that beast to felness hath relaps'd From having lost correction of the spur, Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand, O German Albert! who abandon'st her, That is grown savage and unmanageable, When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels. Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood! And be it strange and manifest to all! Such as may strike thy successor with dread! For that thy sire and thou have suffer'd thus, Through greediness of yonder realms detain'd, The garden of the empire to run waste. Come see the Capulets and Montagues, The Philippeschi and Monaldi! man Who car'st for nought! those sunk in grief, and these With dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one! Come and behold the' oppression of the nobles, And mark their injuries: and thou mayst see.

42 What safety Santafiore can supply. Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee, Desolate widow! day and night with moans: "My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?" Come and behold what love among thy people: And if no pity touches thee for us, Come and blush for thine own report. For me, If it be lawful, O Almighty Power, Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified! Are thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere? or is this A preparation in the wond'rous depth Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end, Entirely from our reach of thought cut off? So are the' Italian cities all o'erthrong'd With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made Of every petty factious villager. My Florence! thou mayst well remain unmov'd At this digression, which affects not thee: Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed. Many have justice in their heart, that long Waiteth for counsel to direct the bow, Or ere it dart unto its aim: but shine Have it on their lip's edge.

43 Many refuse To bear the common burdens: readier thine Answer uneall'd, and cry, "Behold I stoop!" Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now, Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom-fraught! Facts best witness if I speak the truth. Athens and Lacedaemon, who of old Enacted laws, for civil arts renown'd, Made little progress in improving life Tow'rds thee, who usest such nice subtlety, That to the middle of November scarce Reaches the thread thou in October weav'st. How many times, within thy memory, Customs, and laws, and coins, and offices Have been by thee renew'd, and people chang'd! If thou remember'st well and can'st see clear, Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch, Who finds no rest upon her down, hut oft Shifting her side, short respite seeks from pain.

CANTO VII

44 After their courteous greetings joyfully Sev'n times exchang'd, Sordello backward drew Exclaiming, "Who are ye?" "Before this mount By spirits worthy of ascent to God Was sought, my bones had by Octavius' care Been buried. I am Virgil, for no sin Depriv'd of heav'n, except for lack of faith." So answer'd him in few my gentle guide. As one, who aught before him suddenly Beholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries "It is yet is not," wav'ring in belief; Such he appear'd; then downward bent his eyes, And drawing near with reverential step, Caught him, where of mean estate might clasp His lord. "Glory of Latium!" he exclaim'd, "In whom our tongue its utmost power display'd! Boast of my honor'd birth-place!

45 What desert Of mine, what favour rather undeserv'd, Shows thee to me? If I to hear that voice Am worthy, say if from below thou com'st And from what cloister's pale?"--"Through every orb Of that sad region," he reply'd, "thus far Am I arriv'd, by heav'nly influence led And with such aid I come. There is a place There underneath, not made by torments sad, But by dun shades alone; where mourning's voice Sounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs. There I with little innocents abide, Who by death's fangs were bitten, ere exempt From human taint.

46 There I with those abide, Who the three holy virtues put not on, But understood the rest, and without blame Follow'd them all. But if thou know'st and canst, Direct us, how we soonest may arrive, Where Purgatory its true beginning takes." He answer'd thus: "We have no certain place Assign'd us: upwards I may go or round, Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide. But thou beholdest now how day declines: And upwards to proceed by night, our power Excels: therefore it may be well to choose A place of pleasant sojourn. To the right Some spirits sit apart retir'd. If thou Consentest, I to these will lead thy steps: And thou wilt know them, not without delight." "How chances this?" was answer'd; "who so wish'd To ascend by night, would he be thence debarr'd By other, or through his own weakness fail?" The good Sordello then, along the ground Trailing his finger, spoke:

47 "Only this line Thou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun Hath disappear'd; not that aught else impedes Thy going upwards, save the shades of night. These with the wont of power perplex the will. With them thou haply mightst return beneath, Or to and fro around the mountain's side Wander, while day is in the horizon shut." My master straight, as wond'ring at his speech, Exclaim'd: "Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst, That, while we stay, we may enjoy delight." A little space we were remov'd from thence, When I perceiv'd the mountain hollow'd out. Ev'n as large valleys hollow'd out on earth, "That way," the' escorting spirit cried, "we go, Where in a bosom the high bank recedes: And thou await renewal of the day."

48 Betwixt the steep and plain a crooked path Led us traverse into the ridge's side, Where more than half the sloping edge expires. Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refin'd, And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers Plac'd in that fair recess, in color all Had been surpass'd, as great surpasses less. Nor nature only there lavish'd her hues, But of the sweetness of a thousand smells A rare and undistinguish'd fragrance made. "Salve Regina," on the grass and flowers Here chanting I beheld those spirits sit Who not beyond the valley could be seen. "Before the west'ring sun sink to his bed," Began the Mantuan, who our steps had turn'd, "'Mid those desires not that I lead ye on. For from this eminence ye shall discern Better the acts and visages of all, Than in the nether vale among them mix'd.

49 He, who sits high above the rest, and seems To have neglected that he should have done, And to the others' song moves not his lip, The Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal'd The wounds whereof fair Italy hath died, So that by others she revives but slowly, He, who with kindly visage comforts him, Sway'd in that country, where the water springs, That Moldaw's river to the Elbe, and Elbe Rolls to the ocean: Ottocar his name: Who in his swaddling clothes was of more worth Than Winceslaus his son, a bearded man, Pamper'd with rank luxuriousness and ease. And that one with the nose depress, who close In counsel seems with him of gentle look, Flying expir'd, with'ring the lily's flower. Look there how he doth knock against his breast! The other ye behold, who for his cheek Makes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs.

50 They are the father and the father-in-law Of Gallia's bane: his vicious life they know And foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus. "He, so robust of limb, who measure keeps In song, with him of feature prominent, With ev'ry virtue bore his girdle brac'd. And if that stripling who behinds him sits, King after him had liv'd, his virtue then From vessel to like vessel had been pour'd; Which may not of the other heirs be said. By James and Frederick his realms are held; Neither the better heritage obtains. Rarely into the branches of the tree Doth human worth mount up; and so ordains He who bestows it, that as his free gift It may be call'd. To Charles my words apply No less than to his brother in the song; Which Pouille and Provence now with grief confess. So much that plant degenerates from its seed, As more than Beatrice and Margaret Costanza still boasts of her valorous spouse.

51 "Behold the king of simple life and plain, Harry of England, sitting there alone: He through his branches better issue spreads. "That one, who on the ground beneath the rest Sits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft, Us William, that brave Marquis, for whose cause The deed of Alexandria and his war Makes Conferrat and Canavese weep."

CANTO VIII

52 Now was the hour that wakens fond desire In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart, Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell, And pilgrim newly on his road with love Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, That seems to mourn for the expiring day: When I, no longer taking heed to hear Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark One risen from its seat, which with its hand Audience implor'd. Both palms it join'd and rais'd, Fixing its steadfast gaze towards the east, As telling God, "I care for naught beside." "Te Lucis Ante," so devoutly then Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain, That all my sense in ravishment was lost.

53 And the rest after, softly and devout, Follow'd through all the hymn, with upward gaze Directed to the bright supernal wheels. Here, reader! for the truth makes thine eyes keen: For of so subtle texture is this veil, That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark'd. I saw that gentle band silently next Look up, as if in expectation held, Pale and in lowly guise; and from on high I saw forth issuing descend beneath Two angels with two flame-illumin'd swords, Broken and mutilated at their points. Green as the tender leaves but newly born, Their vesture was, the which by wings as green Beaten, they drew behind them, fann'd in air. A little over us one took his stand, The other lighted on the' Opposing hill, So that the troop were in the midst contain'd. Well I descried the whiteness on their heads; But in their visages the dazzled eye Was lost, as faculty that by too much Is overpower'd.

54 "From Mary's bosom both Are come," exclaim'd Sordello, "as a guard Over the vale, ganst him, who hither tends, The serpent." Whence, not knowing by which path He came, I turn'd me round, and closely press'd, All frozen, to my leader's trusted side. Sordello paus'd not: "To the valley now (For it is time) let us descend; and hold Converse with those great shadows: haply much Their sight may please ye." Only three steps down Methinks I measur'd, ere I was beneath, And noted one who look'd as with desire To know me. Time was now that air arrow dim; Yet not so dim, that 'twixt his eyes and mine It clear'd not up what was conceal'd before. Mutually tow'rds each other we advanc'd. Nino, thou courteous judge! what joy I felt, When I perceiv'd thou wert not with the bad! No salutation kind on either part Was left unsaid.

55 He then inquir'd: "How long Since thou arrived'st at the mountain's foot, Over the distant waves?" --"O!" answer'd I, "Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came, And still in my first life, thus journeying on, The other strive to gain." Soon as they heard My words, he and Sordello backward drew, As suddenly amaz'd. To Virgil one, The other to a spirit turn'd, who near Was seated, crying: "Conrad! up with speed: Come, see what of his grace high God hath will'd." Then turning round to me: "By that rare mark Of honour which thou ow'st to him, who hides So deeply his first cause, it hath no ford, When thou shalt he beyond the vast of waves. Tell my Giovanna, that for me she call There, where reply to innocence is made.

56 Her mother, I believe, loves me no more; Since she has chang'd the white and wimpled folds, Which she is doom'd once more with grief to wish. By her it easily may be perceiv'd, How long in women lasts the flame of love, If sight and touch do not relume it oft. For her so fair a burial will not make The viper which calls Milan to the field, As had been made by shrill Gallura's bird." He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp Of that right seal, which with due temperature Glows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes Meanwhile to heav'n had travel'd, even there Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel Nearest the axle; when my guide inquir'd: "What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?" I answer'd: "The three torches, with which here The pole is all on fire. "He then to me: "The four resplendent stars, thou saw'st this morn Are there beneath, and these ris'n in their stead."

57 While yet he spoke. Sordello to himself Drew him, and cry'd: "Lo there our enemy!" And with his hand pointed that way to look. Along the side, where barrier none arose Around the little vale, a serpent lay, Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food. Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake Came on, reverting oft his lifted head; And, as a beast that smoothes its polish'd coat, Licking his hack. I saw not, nor can tell, How those celestial falcons from their seat Mov'd, but in motion each one well descried, Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes. The serpent fled; and to their stations back The angels up return'd with equal flight. The Spirit (who to Nino, when he call'd, Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken, Through all that conflict, loosen'd not his sight. "So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high, Find, in thy destin'd lot, of wax so much, As may suffice thee to the enamel's height." It thus began: "If any certain news Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part Thou know'st, tell me, who once was mighty there They call'd me Conrad Malaspina, not That old one, but from him I sprang.

58 The love I bore my people is now here refin'd." "In your dominions," I answer'd, "ne'er was I. But through all Europe where do those men dwell, To whom their glory is not manifest? The fame, that honours your illustrious house, Proclaims the nobles and proclaims the land; So that he knows it who was never there. I swear to you, so may my upward route Prosper! your honour'd nation not impairs The value of her coffer and her sword. Nature and use give her such privilege, That while the world is twisted from his course By a bad head, she only walks aright, And has the evil way in scorn." He then: "Now pass thee on: sev'n times the tired sun Revisits not the couch, which with four feet The forked Aries covers, ere that kind Opinion shall be nail'd into thy brain With stronger nails than other's speech can drive, If the sure course of judgment be not stay'd."

CANTO IX

59 Now the fair consort of Tithonus old, Arisen from her mate's beloved arms, Look'd palely o'er the eastern cliff: her brow, Lucent with jewels, glitter'd, set in sign Of that chill animal, who with his train Smites fearful nations: and where then we were, Two steps of her ascent the night had past, And now the third was closing up its wing, When I, who had so much of Adam with me, Sank down upon the grass, o'ercome with sleep, There where all five were seated. In that hour, When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay, Rememb'ring haply ancient grief, renews, And with our minds more wand'rers from the flesh, And less by thought restrain'd are, as 't were, full Of holy divination in their dreams, Then in a vision did I seem to view A golden-feather'd eagle in the sky, With open wings, and hov'ring for descent, And I was in that place, methought, from whence Young Ganymede, from his associates 'reft, Was snatch'd aloft to the high consistory.

60 "Perhaps," thought I within me, "here alone He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains To pounce upon the prey." Therewith, it seem'd, A little wheeling in his airy tour Terrible as the lightning rush'd he down, And snatch'd me upward even to the fire. There both, I thought, the eagle and myself Did burn; and so intense th' imagin'd flames, That needs my sleep was broken off. As erst Achilles shook himself, and round him roll'd His waken'd eyeballs wond'ring where he was, Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms; E'en thus I shook me, soon as from my face The slumber parted, turning deadly pale, Like one ice-struck with dread. Solo at my side My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now More than two hours aloft: and to the sea My looks were turn'd. "Fear not," my master cried, "Assur'd we are at happy point.

61 Thy strength Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come To Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff That circling bounds it! Lo! the entrance there, Where it doth seem disparted! Ere the dawn Usher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soul Slept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath A lady came, and thus bespake me: "I Am Lucia. Suffer me to take this man, Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed." Sordello and the other gentle shapes Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone, This summit reach'd: and I pursued her steps. Here did she place thee. First her lovely eyes That open entrance show'd me; then at once She vanish'd with thy sleep." Like one, whose doubts Are chas'd by certainty, and terror turn'd To comfort on discovery of the truth, Such was the change in me: and as my guide Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff He mov'd, and I behind him, towards the height.

62 Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise, Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully I prop the structure! Nearer now we drew, Arriv'd' whence in that part, where first a breach As of a wall appear'd, I could descry A portal, and three steps beneath, that led For inlet there, of different colour each, And one who watch'd, but spake not yet a word. As more and more mine eye did stretch its view, I mark'd him seated on the highest step, In visage such, as past my power to bear. Grasp'd in his hand a naked sword, glanc'd back The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain My sight directed. "Speak from whence ye stand:" He cried: "What would ye? Where is your escort? Take heed your coming upward harm ye not." "A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things," Replied the' instructor, "told us, even now, 'Pass that way: here the gate is." --"And may she Befriending prosper your ascent," resum'd The courteous keeper of the gate: "Come then Before our steps."

63 We straightway thither came. The lowest stair was marble white so smooth And polish'd, that therein my mirror'd form Distinct I saw. The next of hue more dark Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block, Crack'd lengthwise and across. The third, that lay Massy above, seem'd porphyry, that flam'd Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein. On this God's angel either foot sustain'd, Upon the threshold seated, which appear'd A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps My leader cheerily drew me. "Ask," said he, "With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt." Piously at his holy feet devolv'd I cast me, praying him for pity's sake That he would open to me: but first fell Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times0 The letter, that denotes the inward stain, He on my forehead with the blunted point Of his drawn sword inscrib'd. And "Look," he cried, "When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away."

64 Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground, Were of one colour with the robe he wore. From underneath that vestment forth he drew Two keys of metal twain: the one was gold, Its fellow silver. With the pallid first, And next the burnish'd, he so ply'd the gate, As to content me well. "Whenever one Faileth of these, that in the keyhole straight It turn not, to this alley then expect Access in vain." Such were the words he spake. "One is more precious: but the other needs Skill and sagacity, large share of each, Ere its good task to disengage the knot Be worthily perform'd. From Peter these I hold, of him instructed, that I err Rather in opening than in keeping fast; So but the suppliant at my feet implore." Then of that hallow'd gate he thrust the door, Exclaiming, "Enter, but this warning hear:

65 He forth again departs who looks behind." As in the hinges of that sacred ward The swivels turn'd, sonorous metal strong, Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily Roar'd the Tarpeian, when by force bereft Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss To leanness doom'd. Attentively I turn'd, List'ning the thunder, that first issued forth; And "We praise thee, O God," methought I heard In accents blended with sweet melody. The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound Of choral voices, that in solemn chant With organ mingle, and, now high and clear, Come swelling, now float indistinct away.

CANTO X

66 When we had passed the threshold of the gate (Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse, Making the crooked seem the straighter path), I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn'd, For that offence what plea might have avail'd? We mounted up the riven rock, that wound On either side alternate, as the wave Flies and advances. "Here some little art Behooves us," said my leader, "that our steps Observe the varying flexure of the path." Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb The moon once more o'erhangs her wat'ry couch, Ere we that strait have threaded.

67 But when free We came and open, where the mount above One solid mass retires, I spent, with toil, And both, uncertain of the way, we stood, Upon a plain more lonesome, than the roads That traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink Borders upon vacuity, to foot Of the steep bank, that rises still, the space Had measur'd thrice the stature of a man: And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight, To leftward now and now to right dispatch'd, That cornice equal in extent appear'd. Not yet our feet had on that summit mov'd, When I discover'd that the bank around, Whose proud uprising all ascent denied, Was marble white, and so exactly wrought With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone Had Polycletus, but e'en nature's self Been sham'd.

68 The angel who came down to earth With tidings of the peace so many years Wept for in vain, that op'd the heavenly gates From their long interdict) before us seem'd, In a sweet act, so sculptur'd to the life, He look'd no silent image. One had sworn He had said, "Hail!" for she was imag'd there, By whom the key did open to God's love, And in her act as sensibly impress That word, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord," As figure seal'd on wax. "Fix not thy mind On one place only," said the guide belov'd, Who had me near him on that part where lies The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn'd And mark'd, behind the virgin mother's form, Upon that side, where he, that mov'd me, stood, Another story graven on the rock. I passed athwart the bard, and drew me near, That it might stand more aptly for my view.

69 There in the self-same marble were engrav'd The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark, That from unbidden office awes mankind. Before it came much people; and the whole Parted in seven quires. One sense cried, "Nay," Another, "Yes, they sing." Like doubt arose Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fume Of incense breathing up the well-wrought toil. Preceding the blest vessel, onward came With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise, Sweet Israel's harper: in that hap he seem'd Less and yet more than kingly. Opposite, At a great palace, from the lattice forth Look'd Michol, like a lady full of scorn And sorrow. To behold the tablet next, Which at the hack of Michol whitely shone, I mov'd me. There was storied on the rock The' exalted glory of the Roman prince, Whose mighty worth mov'd Gregory to earn His mighty conquest, Trajan th' Emperor.

70 A widow at his bridle stood, attir'd In tears and mourning. Round about them troop'd Full throng of knights, and overhead in gold The eagles floated, struggling with the wind. The wretch appear'd amid all these to say: "Grant vengeance, sire! for, woe beshrew this heart My son is murder'd." He replying seem'd; "Wait now till I return." And she, as one Made hasty by her grief; "O sire, if thou Dost not return?"--"Where I am, who then is, May right thee."--" What to thee is other's good, If thou neglect thy own?"--"Now comfort thee," At length he answers. "It beseemeth well My duty be perform'd, ere I move hence: So justice wills; and pity bids me stay." He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produc'd That visible speaking, new to us and strange The like not found on earth. Fondly I gaz'd Upon those patterns of meek humbleness, Shapes yet more precious for their artist's sake, When "Lo," the poet whisper'd, "where this way (But slack their pace), a multitude advance. These to the lofty steps shall guide us on."

71 Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights Their lov'd allurement, were not slow to turn. Reader! I would not that amaz'd thou miss Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God Decrees our debts be cancel'd. Ponder not The form of suff'ring. Think on what succeeds, Think that at worst beyond the mighty doom It cannot pass. "Instructor," I began, "What I see hither tending, bears no trace Of human semblance, nor of aught beside That my foil'd sight can guess." He answering thus: "So courb'd to earth, beneath their heavy teems Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first Struggled as thine. But look intently thither, An disentangle with thy lab'ring view, What underneath those stones approacheth: now, E'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each." Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones! That feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust Upon unstaid perverseness! Know ye not That we are worms, yet made at last to form The winged insect, imp'd with angel plumes That to heaven's justice unobstructed soars?

72 Why buoy ye up aloft your unfleg'd souls? Abortive then and shapeless ye remain, Like the untimely embryon of a worm! As, to support incumbent floor or roof, For corbel is a figure sometimes seen, That crumples up its knees unto its breast, With the feign'd posture stirring ruth unfeign'd In the beholder's fancy; so I saw These fashion'd, when I noted well their guise. Each, as his back was laden, came indeed Or more or less contract; but it appear'd As he, who show'd most patience in his look, Wailing exclaim'd: "I can endure no more."