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Dante Alighieri - Purgatorio (English)
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Ye who are living every cause refer
  Still upward to the heavens, as if all things
  They of necessity moved with themselves.

If this were so, in you would be destroyed
  Free will, nor any justice would there be
  In having joy for good, or grief for evil.

The heavens your movements do initiate,
  I say not all; but granting that I say it,
  Light has been given you for good and evil,

And free volition; which, if some fatigue
  In the first battles with the heavens it suffers,
  Afterwards conquers all, if well `tis nurtured.

To greater force and to a better nature,
  Though free, ye subject are, and that creates
  The mind in you the heavens have not in charge.

Hence, if the present world doth go astray,
  In you the cause is, be it sought in you;
  And I therein will now be thy true spy.

Forth from the hand of Him, who fondles it
  Before it is, like to a little girl
  Weeping and laughing in her childish sport,

Issues the simple soul, that nothing knows,
  Save that, proceeding from a joyous Maker,
  Gladly it turns to that which gives it pleasure.

Of trivial good at first it tastes the savour;
  Is cheated by it, and runs after it,
  If guide or rein turn not aside its love.

Hence it behoved laws for a rein to place,
  Behoved a king to have, who at the least
  Of the true city should discern the tower.

The laws exist, but who sets hand to them?
  No one; because the shepherd who precedes
  Can ruminate, but cleaveth not the hoof;

Wherefore the people that perceives its guide
  Strike only at the good for which it hankers,
  Feeds upon that, and farther seeketh not.

Clearly canst thou perceive that evil guidance
  The cause is that has made the world depraved,
  And not that nature is corrupt in you.

Rome, that reformed the world, accustomed was
  Two suns to have, which one road and the other,
  Of God and of the world, made manifest.

One has the other quenched, and to the crosier
  The sword is joined, and ill beseemeth it
  That by main force one with the other go,

Because, being joined, one feareth not the other;
  If thou believe not, think upon the grain,
  For by its seed each herb is recognized.

In the land laved by Po and Adige,
  Valour and courtesy used to be found,
  Before that Frederick had his controversy;

Now in security can pass that way
  Whoever will abstain, through sense of shame,
  From speaking with the good, or drawing near them.

True, three old men are left, in whom upbraids
  The ancient age the new, and late they deem it
  That God restore them to the better life:

Currado da Palazzo, and good Gherardo,
  And Guido da Castel, who better named is,
  In fashion of the French, the simple Lombard:

Say thou henceforward that the Church of Rome,
  Confounding in itself two governments,
  Falls in the mire, and soils itself and burden."

"O Marco mine," I said, "thou reasonest well;
  And now discern I why the sons of Levi
  Have been excluded from the heritage.

But what Gherardo is it, who, as sample
  Of a lost race, thou sayest has remained
  In reprobation of the barbarous age?"

"Either thy speech deceives me, or it tempts me,"
  He answered me; "for speaking Tuscan to me,
  It seems of good Gherardo naught thou knowest.

By other surname do I know him not,
  Unless I take it from his daughter Gaia.
  May God be with you, for I come no farther.

Behold the dawn, that through the smoke rays out,
  Already whitening; and I must depart--
  Yonder the Angel is--ere he appear."

Thus did he speak, and would no farther hear me.


Purgatorio: Canto XVII


Remember, Reader, if e`er in the Alps
  A mist o`ertook thee, through which thou couldst see
  Not otherwise than through its membrane mole,

How, when the vapours humid and condensed
  Begin to dissipate themselves, the sphere
  Of the sun feebly enters in among them,

And thy imagination will be swift
  In coming to perceive how I re-saw
  The sun at first, that was already setting.

Thus, to the faithful footsteps of my Master
  Mating mine own, I issued from that cloud
  To rays already dead on the low shores.

O thou, Imagination, that dost steal us
  So from without sometimes, that man perceives not,
  Although around may sound a thousand trumpets,

Who moveth thee, if sense impel thee not?
  Moves thee a light, which in the heaven takes form,
  By self, or by a will that downward guides it.

Of her impiety, who changed her form
  Into the bird that most delights in singing,
  In my imagining appeared the trace;

And hereupon my mind was so withdrawn
  Within itself, that from without there came
  Nothing that then might be received by it.

Then reigned within my lofty fantasy
  One crucified, disdainful and ferocious
  In countenance, and even thus was dying.

Around him were the great Ahasuerus,
  Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai,
  Who was in word and action so entire.

And even as this image burst asunder
  Of its own self, in fashion of a bubble
  In which the water it was made of fails,

There rose up in my vision a young maiden
  Bitterly weeping, and she said: "O queen,
  Why hast thou wished in anger to be naught?

Thou`st slain thyself, Lavinia not to lose;
  Now hast thou lost me; I am she who mourns,
  Mother, at thine ere at another`s ruin."

As sleep is broken, when upon a sudden
  New light strikes in upon the eyelids closed,
  And broken quivers ere it dieth wholly,

So this imagining of mine fell down
  As soon as the effulgence smote my face,
  Greater by far than what is in our wont.

I turned me round to see where I might be,
  When said a voice, "Here is the passage up;"
  Which from all other purposes removed me,

And made my wish so full of eagerness
  To look and see who was it that was speaking,
  It never rests till meeting face to face;

But as before the sun, which quells the sight,
  And in its own excess its figure veils,
  Even so my power was insufficient here.

"This is a spirit divine, who in the way
  Of going up directs us without asking,
  And who with his own light himself conceals.

He does with us as man doth with himself;
  For he who sees the need, and waits the asking,
  Malignly leans already tow`rds denial.

Accord we now our feet to such inviting,
  Let us make haste to mount ere it grow dark;
  For then we could not till the day return."

Thus my Conductor said; and I and he
  Together turned our footsteps to a stairway;
  And I, as soon as the first step I reached,

Near me perceived a motion as of wings,
  And fanning in the face, and saying, "`Beati
  Pacifici,` who are without ill anger."

Already over us were so uplifted
  The latest sunbeams, which the night pursues,
  That upon many sides the stars appeared.

"O manhood mine, why dost thou vanish so?"
  I said within myself; for I perceived
  The vigour of my legs was put in truce.

We at the point were where no more ascends
  The stairway upward, and were motionless,
  Even as a ship, which at the shore arrives;

And I gave heed a little, if I might hear
  Aught whatsoever in the circle new;
  Then to my Master turned me round and said:

"Say, my sweet Father, what delinquency
  Is purged here in the circle where we are?
  Although our feet may pause, pause not thy speech."

And he to me: "The love of good, remiss
  In what it should have done, is here restored;
  Here plied again the ill-belated oar;

But still more openly to understand,
  Turn unto me thy mind, and thou shalt gather
  Some profitable fruit from our delay.

Neither Creator nor a creature ever,
  Son," he began, "was destitute of love
  Natural or spiritual; and thou knowest it.

The natural was ever without error;
  But err the other may by evil object,
  Or by too much, or by too little vigour.

While in the first it well directed is,
  And in the second moderates itself,
  It cannot be the cause of sinful pleasure;

But when to ill it turns, and, with more care
  Or lesser than it ought, runs after good,
  `Gainst the Creator works his own creation.

Hence thou mayst comprehend that love must be
  The seed within yourselves of every virtue,
  And every act that merits punishment.

Now inasmuch as never from the welfare
  Of its own subject can love turn its sight,
  From their own hatred all things are secure;

And since we cannot think of any being
  Standing alone, nor from the First divided,
  Of hating Him is all desire cut off.

Hence if, discriminating, I judge well,
  The evil that one loves is of one`s neighbour,
  And this is born in three modes in your clay.

There are, who, by abasement of their neighbour,
  Hope to excel, and therefore only long
  That from his greatness he may be cast down;

There are, who power, grace, honour, and renown
  Fear they may lose because another rises,
  Thence are so sad that the reverse they love;

And there are those whom injury seems to chafe,
  So that it makes them greedy for revenge,
  And such must needs shape out another`s harm.

This threefold love is wept for down below;
  Now of the other will I have thee hear,
  That runneth after good with measure faulty.

Each one confusedly a good conceives
  Wherein the mind may rest, and longeth for it;
  Therefore to overtake it each one strives.

If languid love to look on this attract you,
  Or in attaining unto it, this cornice,
  After just penitence, torments you for it.

There`s other good that does not make man happy;
  `Tis not felicity, `tis not the good
  Essence, of every good the fruit and root.

The love that yields itself too much to this
  Above us is lamented in three circles;
  But how tripartite it may be described,

I say not, that thou seek it for thyself."


Purgatorio: Canto XVIII


An end had put unto his reasoning
  The lofty Teacher, and attent was looking
  Into my face, if I appeared content;

And I, whom a new thirst still goaded on,
  Without was mute, and said within: "Perchance
  The too much questioning I make annoys him."

But that true Father, who had comprehended
  The timid wish, that opened not itself,
  By speaking gave me hardihood to speak.

Whence I: "My sight is, Master, vivified
  So in thy light, that clearly I discern
  Whate`er thy speech importeth or describes.

Therefore I thee entreat, sweet Father dear,
  To teach me love, to which thou dost refer
  Every good action and its contrary."

"Direct," he said, "towards me the keen eyes
  Of intellect, and clear will be to thee
  The error of the blind, who would be leaders.

The soul, which is created apt to love,
  Is mobile unto everything that pleases,
  Soon as by pleasure she is waked to action.

Your apprehension from some real thing
  An image draws, and in yourselves displays it
  So that it makes the soul turn unto it.

And if, when turned, towards it she incline,
  Love is that inclination; it is nature,
  Which is by pleasure bound in you anew

Then even as the fire doth upward move
  By its own form, which to ascend is born,
  Where longest in its matter it endures,

So comes the captive soul into desire,
  Which is a motion spiritual, and ne`er rests
  Until she doth enjoy the thing beloved.

Now may apparent be to thee how hidden
  The truth is from those people, who aver
  All love is in itself a laudable thing;

Because its matter may perchance appear
  Aye to be good; but yet not each impression
  Is good, albeit good may be the wax."

"Thy words, and my sequacious intellect,"
  I answered him, "have love revealed to me;
  But that has made me more impregned with doubt;

For if love from without be offered us,
  And with another foot the soul go not,
  If right or wrong she go, `tis not her merit."

And he to me: "What reason seeth here,
  Myself can tell thee; beyond that await
  For Beatrice, since `tis a work of faith.

Every substantial form, that segregate
  From matter is, and with it is united,
  Specific power has in itself collected,

Which without act is not perceptible,
  Nor shows itself except by its effect,
  As life does in a plant by the green leaves.

But still, whence cometh the intelligence
  Of the first notions, man is ignorant,
  And the affection for the first allurements,

Which are in you as instinct in the bee
  To make its honey; and this first desire
  Merit of praise or blame containeth not.

Now, that to this all others may be gathered,
  Innate within you is the power that counsels,
  And it should keep the threshold of assent.

This is the principle, from which is taken
  Occasion of desert in you, according
  As good and guilty loves it takes and winnows.

Those who, in reasoning, to the bottom went,
  Were of this innate liberty aware,
  Therefore bequeathed they Ethics to the world.

Supposing, then, that from necessity
  Springs every love that is within you kindled,
  Within yourselves the power is to restrain it.

The noble virtue Beatrice understands
  By the free will; and therefore see that thou
  Bear it in mind, if she should speak of it."

The moon, belated almost unto midnight,
  Now made the stars appear to us more rare,
  Formed like a bucket, that is all ablaze,

And counter to the heavens ran through those paths
  Which the sun sets aflame, when he of Rome
  Sees it `twixt Sardes and Corsicans go down;

And that patrician shade, for whom is named
  Pietola more than any Mantuan town,
  Had laid aside the burden of my lading;

Whence I, who reason manifest and plain
  In answer to my questions had received,
  Stood like a man in drowsy reverie.

But taken from me was this drowsiness
  Suddenly by a people, that behind
  Our backs already had come round to us.

And as, of old, Ismenus and Asopus
  Beside them saw at night the rush and throng,
  If but the Thebans were in need of Bacchus,

So they along that circle curve their step,
  From what I saw of those approaching us,
  Who by good-will and righteous love are ridden.

Full soon they were upon us, because running
  Moved onward all that mighty multitude,
  And two in the advance cried out, lamenting,

"Mary in haste unto the mountain ran,
  And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda,
  Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain."

"Quick! quick! so that the time may not be lost
  By little love!" forthwith the others cried,
  "For ardour in well-doing freshens grace!"

"O folk, in whom an eager fervour now
  Supplies perhaps delay and negligence,
  Put by you in well-doing, through lukewarmness,

This one who lives, and truly I lie not,
  Would fain go up, if but the sun relight us;
  So tell us where the passage nearest is."

These were the words of him who was my Guide;
  And some one of those spirits said: "Come on
  Behind us, and the opening shalt thou find;

So full of longing are we to move onward,
  That stay we cannot; therefore pardon us,
  If thou for churlishness our justice take.

I was San Zeno`s Abbot at Verona,
  Under the empire of good Barbarossa,
  Of whom still sorrowing Milan holds discourse;

And he has one foot in the grave already,
  Who shall erelong lament that monastery,
  And sorry be of having there had power,

Because his son, in his whole body sick,
  And worse in mind, and who was evil-born,
  He put into the place of its true pastor."

If more he said, or silent was, I know not,
  He had already passed so far beyond us;
  But this I heard, and to retain it pleased me.

And he who was in every need my succour
  Said: "Turn thee hitherward; see two of them
  Come fastening upon slothfulness their teeth."

In rear of all they shouted: "Sooner were
  The people dead to whom the sea was opened,
  Than their inheritors the Jordan saw;

And those who the fatigue did not endure
  Unto the issue, with Anchises` son,
  Themselves to life withouten glory offered."

Then when from us so separated were
  Those shades, that they no longer could be seen,
  Within me a new thought did entrance find,

Whence others many and diverse were born;
  And so I lapsed from one into another,
  That in a reverie mine eyes I closed,

And meditation into dream transmuted.


Purgatorio: Canto XIX


It was the hour when the diurnal heat
  No more can warm the coldness of the moon,
  Vanquished by earth, or peradventure Saturn,

When geomancers their Fortuna Major
  See in the orient before the dawn
  Rise by a path that long remains not dim,

There came to me in dreams a stammering woman,
  Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted,
  With hands dissevered and of sallow hue.

I looked at her; and as the sun restores
  The frigid members which the night benumbs,
  Even thus my gaze did render voluble

Her tongue, and made her all erect thereafter
  In little while, and the lost countenance
  As love desires it so in her did colour.

When in this wise she had her speech unloosed,
  She `gan to sing so, that with difficulty
  Could I have turned my thoughts away from her.

"I am," she sang, "I am the Siren sweet
  Who mariners amid the main unman,
  So full am I of pleasantness to hear.

I drew Ulysses from his wandering way
  Unto my song, and he who dwells with me
  Seldom departs so wholly I content him."

Her mouth was not yet closed again, before
  Appeared a Lady saintly and alert
  Close at my side to put her to confusion.

"Virgilius, O Virgilius! who is this?"
  Sternly she said; and he was drawing near
  With eyes still fixed upon that modest one.

She seized the other and in front laid open,
  Rending her garments, and her belly showed me;
  This waked me with the stench that issued from it.

I turned mine eyes, and good Virgilius said:
  "At least thrice have I called thee; rise and come;
  Find we the opening by which thou mayst enter."

I rose; and full already of high day
  Were all the circles of the Sacred Mountain,
  And with the new sun at our back we went.

Following behind him, I my forehead bore
  Like unto one who has it laden with thought,
  Who makes himself the half arch of a bridge,

When I heard say, "Come, here the passage is,"
  Spoken in a manner gentle and benign,
  Such as we hear not in this mortal region.

With open wings, which of a swan appeared,
  Upward he turned us who thus spake to us,
  Between the two walls of the solid granite.

He moved his pinions afterwards and fanned us,
  Affirming those `qui lugent` to be blessed,
  For they shall have their souls with comfort filled.

"What aileth thee, that aye to earth thou gazest?"
  To me my Guide began to say, we both
  Somewhat beyond the Angel having mounted.

And I: "With such misgiving makes me go
  A vision new, which bends me to itself,
  So that I cannot from the thought withdraw me."

"Didst thou behold," he said, "that old enchantress,
  Who sole above us henceforth is lamented?
  Didst thou behold how man is freed from her?

Suffice it thee, and smite earth with thy heels,
  Thine eyes lift upward to the lure, that whirls
  The Eternal King with revolutions vast."

Even as the hawk, that first his feet surveys,
  Then turns him to the call and stretches forward,
  Through the desire of food that draws him thither,

Such I became, and such, as far as cleaves
  The rock to give a way to him who mounts,
  Went on to where the circling doth begin.

On the fifth circle when I had come forth,
  People I saw upon it who were weeping,
  Stretched prone upon the ground, all downward turned.

"Adhaesit pavimento anima mea,"
  I heard them say with sighings so profound,
  That hardly could the words be understood.

"O ye elect of God, whose sufferings
  Justice and Hope both render less severe,
  Direct ye us towards the high ascents."

"If ye are come secure from this prostration,
  And wish to find the way most speedily,
  Let your right hands be evermore outside."

Thus did the Poet ask, and thus was answered
  By them somewhat in front of us; whence I
  In what was spoken divined the rest concealed,

And unto my Lord`s eyes mine eyes I turned;
  Whence he assented with a cheerful sign
  To what the sight of my desire implored.

When of myself I could dispose at will,
  Above that creature did I draw myself,
  Whose words before had caused me to take note,

Saying: "O Spirit, in whom weeping ripens
  That without which to God we cannot turn,
  Suspend awhile for me thy greater care.

Who wast thou, and why are your backs turned upwards,
  Tell me, and if thou wouldst that I procure thee
  Anything there whence living I departed."

And he to me: "Wherefore our backs the heaven
  Turns to itself, know shalt thou; but beforehand
  `Scias quod ego fui successor Petri.`

Between Siestri and Chiaveri descends
  A river beautiful, and of its name
  The title of my blood its summit makes.

A month and little more essayed I how
  Weighs the great cloak on him from mire who keeps it,
  For all the other burdens seem a feather.

Tardy, ah woe is me! was my conversion;
  But when the Roman Shepherd I was made,
  Then I discovered life to be a lie.

I saw that there the heart was not at rest,
  Nor farther in that life could one ascend;
  Whereby the love of this was kindled in me.

Until that time a wretched soul and parted
  From God was I, and wholly avaricious;
  Now, as thou seest, I here am punished for it.

What avarice does is here made manifest
  In the purgation of these souls converted,
  And no more bitter pain the Mountain has.

Even as our eye did not uplift itself
  Aloft, being fastened upon earthly things,
  So justice here has merged it in the earth.

As avarice had extinguished our affection
  For every good, whereby was action lost,
  So justice here doth hold us in restraint,

Bound and imprisoned by the feet and hands;
  And so long as it pleases the just Lord
  Shall we remain immovable and prostrate."

I on my knees had fallen, and wished to speak;
  But even as I began, and he was `ware,
  Only by listening, of my reverence,

"What cause," he said, "has downward bent thee thus?"
  And I to him: "For your own dignity,
  Standing, my conscience stung me with remorse."

"Straighten thy legs, and upward raise thee, brother,"
  He answered: "Err not, fellow-servant am I
  With thee and with the others to one power.

If e`er that holy, evangelic sound,
  Which sayeth `neque nubent,` thou hast heard,
  Well canst thou see why in this wise I speak.

Now go; no longer will I have thee linger,
  Because thy stay doth incommode my weeping,
  With which I ripen that which thou hast said.

On earth I have a grandchild named Alagia,
  Good in herself, unless indeed our house
  Malevolent may make her by example,

And she alone remains to me on earth."


Purgatorio: Canto XX


Ill strives the will against a better will;
  Therefore, to pleasure him, against my pleasure
  I drew the sponge not saturate from the water.

Onward I moved, and onward moved my Leader,
  Through vacant places, skirting still the rock,
  As on a wall close to the battlements;

For they that through their eyes pour drop by drop
  The malady which all the world pervades,
  On the other side too near the verge approach.

Accursed mayst thou be, thou old she-wolf,
  That more than all the other beasts hast prey,
  Because of hunger infinitely hollow!

O heaven, in whose gyrations some appear
  To think conditions here below are changed,
  When will he come through whom she shall depart?

Onward we went with footsteps slow and scarce,
  And I attentive to the shades I heard
  Piteously weeping and bemoaning them;

And I by peradventure heard "Sweet Mary!"
  Uttered in front of us amid the weeping
  Even as a woman does who is in child-birth;

And in continuance: "How poor thou wast
  Is manifested by that hostelry
  Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down."

Thereafterward I heard: "O good Fabricius,
  Virtue with poverty didst thou prefer
  To the possession of great wealth with vice."

So pleasurable were these words to me
  That I drew farther onward to have knowledge
  Touching that spirit whence they seemed to come.

He furthermore was speaking of the largess
  Which Nicholas unto the maidens gave,
  In order to conduct their youth to honour.

"O soul that dost so excellently speak,
  Tell me who wast thou," said I, "and why only
  Thou dost renew these praises well deserved?

Not without recompense shall be thy word,
  If I return to finish the short journey
  Of that life which is flying to its end."

And he: "I`ll tell thee, not for any comfort
  I may expect from earth, but that so much
  Grace shines in thee or ever thou art dead.

I was the root of that malignant plant
  Which overshadows all the Christian world,
  So that good fruit is seldom gathered from it;

But if Douay and Ghent, and Lille and Bruges
  Had Power, soon vengeance would be taken on it;
  And this I pray of Him who judges all.

Hugh Capet was I called upon the earth;
  From me were born the Louises and Philips,
  By whom in later days has France been governed.

I was the son of a Parisian butcher,
  What time the ancient kings had perished all,
  Excepting one, contrite in cloth of gray.

I found me grasping in my hands the rein
  Of the realm`s government, and so great power
  Of new acquest, and so with friends abounding,

That to the widowed diadem promoted
  The head of mine own offspring was, from whom
  The consecrated bones of these began.

So long as the great dowry of Provence
  Out of my blood took not the sense of shame,
  `Twas little worth, but still it did no harm.

Then it began with falsehood and with force
  Its rapine; and thereafter, for amends,
  Took Ponthieu, Normandy, and Gascony.

Charles came to Italy, and for amends
  A victim made of Conradin, and then
  Thrust Thomas back to heaven, for amends.

A time I see, not very distant now,
  Which draweth forth another Charles from France,
  The better to make known both him and his.

Unarmed he goes, and only with the lance
  That Judas jousted with; and that he thrusts
  So that he makes the paunch of Florence burst.

He thence not land, but sin and infamy,
  Shall gain, so much more grievous to himself
  As the more light such damage he accounts.

The other, now gone forth, ta`en in his ship,
  See I his daughter sell, and chaffer for her
  As corsairs do with other female slaves.

What more, O Avarice, canst thou do to us,
  Since thou my blood so to thyself hast drawn,
  It careth not for its own proper flesh?

That less may seem the future ill and past,
  I see the flower-de-luce Alagna enter,
  And Christ in his own Vicar captive made.

I see him yet another time derided;
  I see renewed the vinegar and gall,
  And between living thieves I see him slain.

I see the modern Pilate so relentless,
  This does not sate him, but without decretal
  He to the temple bears his sordid sails!

When, O my Lord! shall I be joyful made
  By looking on the vengeance which, concealed,
  Makes sweet thine anger in thy secrecy?

What I was saying of that only bride
  Of the Holy Ghost, and which occasioned thee
  To turn towards me for some commentary,

So long has been ordained to all our prayers
  As the day lasts; but when the night comes on,
  Contrary sound we take instead thereof.

At that time we repeat Pygmalion,
  Of whom a traitor, thief, and parricide
  Made his insatiable desire of gold;

And the misery of avaricious Midas,
  That followed his inordinate demand,
  At which forevermore one needs but laugh.

The foolish Achan each one then records,
  And how he stole the spoils; so that the wrath
  Of Joshua still appears to sting him here.

Then we accuse Sapphira with her husband,
  We laud the hoof-beats Heliodorus had,
  And the whole mount in infamy encircles

Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus.
  Here finally is cried: `O Crassus, tell us,
  For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?`

Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low,
  According to desire of speech, that spurs us
  To greater now and now to lesser pace.

But in the good that here by day is talked of,
  Erewhile alone I was not; yet near by
  No other person lifted up his voice."

From him already we departed were,
  And made endeavour to o`ercome the road
  As much as was permitted to our power,

When I perceived, like something that is falling,
  The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me,
  As seizes him who to his death is going.

Certes so violently shook not Delos,
  Before Latona made her nest therein
  To give birth to the two eyes of the heaven.

Then upon all sides there began a cry,
  Such that the Master drew himself towards me,
  Saying, "Fear not, while I am guiding thee."

"Gloria in excelsis Deo," all
  Were saying, from what near I comprehended,
  Where it was possible to hear the cry.

We paused immovable and in suspense,
  Even as the shepherds who first heard that song,
  Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished.

Then we resumed again our holy path,
  Watching the shades that lay upon the ground,
  Already turned to their accustomed plaint.

No ignorance ever with so great a strife
  Had rendered me importunate to know,
  If erreth not in this my memory,

As meditating then I seemed to have;
  Nor out of haste to question did I dare,
  Nor of myself I there could aught perceive;

So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.


Purgatorio: Canto XXI


The natural thirst, that ne`er is satisfied
  Excepting with the water for whose grace
  The woman of Samaria besought,

Put me in travail, and haste goaded me
  Along the encumbered path behind my Leader
  And I was pitying that righteous vengeance;

And lo! in the same manner as Luke writeth
  That Christ appeared to two upon the way
  From the sepulchral cave already risen,

A shade appeared to us, and came behind us,
  Down gazing on the prostrate multitude,
  Nor were we ware of it, until it spake,

Saying, "My brothers, may God give you peace!"
  We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius rendered
  To him the countersign thereto conforming.

Thereon began he: "In the blessed council,
  Thee may the court veracious place in peace,
  That me doth banish in eternal exile!"

"How," said he, and the while we went with speed,
  "If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high,
  Who up his stairs so far has guided you?"

And said my Teacher: "If thou note the marks
  Which this one bears, and which the Angel traces
  Well shalt thou see he with the good must reign.

But because she who spinneth day and night
  For him had not yet drawn the distaff off,
  Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts,

His soul, which is thy sister and my own,
  In coming upwards could not come alone,
  By reason that it sees not in our fashion.

Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat
  Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him
  As far on as my school has power to lead.

But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder
  Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together
  All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?"

In asking he so hit the very eye
  Of my desire, that merely with the hope
  My thirst became the less unsatisfied.

"Naught is there," he began, "that without order
  May the religion of the mountain feel,
  Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom.

Free is it here from every permutation;
  What from itself heaven in itself receiveth
  Can be of this the cause, and naught beside;

Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow,
  Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls
  Than the short, little stairway of three steps.

Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied,
  Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas,
  That often upon earth her region shifts;

No arid vapour any farther rises
  Than to the top of the three steps I spake of,
  Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet.

Lower down perchance it trembles less or more,
  But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden
  I know not how, up here it never trembled.

It trembles here, whenever any soul
  Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves
  To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it.

Of purity the will alone gives proof,
  Which, being wholly free to change its convent,
  Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly.

First it wills well; but the desire permits not,
  Which divine justice with the self-same will
  There was to sin, upon the torment sets.

And I, who have been lying in this pain
  Five hundred years and more, but just now felt
  A free volition for a better seat.

Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious
  Spirits along the mountain rendering praise
  Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards."

So said he to him; and since we enjoy
  As much in drinking as the thirst is great,
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