Canto XI
¶ARGUMENT . — After a prayer uttered by the spirits, who were spoken of in the last Canto, Virgil inquires the way upward, and is answered by one, who declares himself to have been Omberto, son of the Count of Santafiore. Next our Poet distinguishes Oderigi, the illuminator, who discourses on the vanity of worldly fame, and points out to him the soul of Provcnzano Salvani.
¶OTHOU Almighty Father! who dost makeThe heavens Thy dwelling, not in bounds confined,But that, with love intenser, there Thou view'stThy primal effluence; hallow'd be Thy name:Join, each created being, to extol
¶a " The winged insect." The butterfly was an ancient and well-known symbol of the
¶human soul.
p. 187¶Thy might; for worthy humblest thanks and praiseIs Thy blest Spirit. May Thy kingdom's peaceCome unto us; for we, unless it come,With all our striving, thither tend in vain.As, of their will, the Angels unto TheeTender meet sacrifice, circling Thy throneWith loud hosannas; so of theirs be doneBy saintly men on earth. Grant us, this day,Our daily manna, without which he roamsThrough this rough desert retrograde, who mostToils to advance his steps. As we to eachPardon the evil done us, pardon ThouBenign, and of our merit take no count.'Gainst the old adversary, prove Thou notOur virtue, easily subdued; but freeFrom his incitements, and defeat his wiles.This last petition, dearest Lord! is madeNot for ourselves; since that were needless now;But for their sakes who after us remain."Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring,Those spirits went beneath a weight like thatWe sometimes feel in dreams; all, sore beset,But with unequal anguish; wearied all;Round the first circuit; purging as they goThe world's gross darkness off. In our behoofIf their vows still be offer'd, what can hereFor them be vow'd and done by such, whose willsHave root of goodness in them? Well beseemsThat we should help them wash away the stainsThey carried hence; that so, made pure and light,They may spring upward to the starry spheres."Ah! so may mercy-temper'd justice ridYour burdens speedily; that ye have powerTo stretch your wing, which e'en to your desireShall lift you; as ye show us on which handToward the ladder leads the shortest way.And if there be more passages than one,Instruct us of that easiest to ascend:For this man, who comes with me, and bears yetThe charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,[188]Despite his better will, but slowly mounts."From whom the answer came unto these words,Which my guide spake, appear'd not; but 'twas said:"Along the bank to rightward come with us;And ye shall rind a pass that mocks not toilOf living man to climb: and were it notThat I am hinder'd by the rock, wherewithThis arrogant neck is tamed, whence needs I stoopMy visage to the ground; him, who yet lives,Whose name thou speak'st not, him I fain would view;To mark if e'er I knew him, and to craveHis pity for the fardel that I bear.I was of Latium; I of a Tuscan born,A mighty one: Aldobrandesco's nameMy sire's, I know not if ye e'er have heard.My old blood and forefathers' gallant deedsMade me so haughty, that I clean forgotThe common mother; and to such excessWax'd in my scorn of all men, that I fell,Fell therefore; by what fate, Siena's sons.Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.I am Omberto: not me, only, prideHath injured, but my kindred all involvedIn mischief with her. Here my lot ordainsUnder this weight to groan, till I appeaseGod's angry justice, since I did it notAmongst the living, here amongst the dead."Listening I bent my visage down: and one(Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weightThat urged him, saw me, knew me straight, and call'd;Holding his eyes with difficulty fix'dIntent upon me, stooping as I wentCompanion of their way. "O!" I exclaim'd,"Art thou not Oderigi? 2 art not thouAgobbio's glory, glory of that artWhich they of Paris call the limner's skill?""Brother!" said he, "with tints, that gayer smile,[189]Bolognian Franco's' pencil lines the leaves.His all the honour now; my light obscured.In truth, I had not been thus courteous to himThe whilst I lived, through eagerness of zealFor that pre-eminence my heart was bent on.Here, of such pride, the forfeiture is paid.Nor were I even here, if, able stillTo sin, I had not turn'd me unto God.O powers of man! how vain your glory, niptE'en in its height of verdure, if an ageLess bright succeed not. Cimabue thoughtTo lord it over painting's field; and nowThe cry is Giotto's,* and his name eclipsed.Thus hath one Guido from the other 5 snatch'dThe letter'd prize: and he, perhaps, is born,Who shall drive either from their nest. The noiseOf worldly fame is but a blast of wind,That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name,Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou moreLive in the mouths of mankind, if thy fleshPart shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst diedBefore the coral and the pap were left;Or e'er some thousand years have past? and thatIs, to eternity compared, a spaceBriefer than is the twinkling of an eyeTo the heaven's slowest orb. He there, who treadsSo leisurely before me, far and wideThrough Tuscany resounded once; and nowIs in Siena scarce with whispers named:There was he sovereign, when destruction caughtThe maddening rage of Florence, in that dayProud as she now is loathsome. Your renownIs as the herb, whose hue doth come and go;
p. 189¶' Franco of Bologna, who is said to XI and Robert, King of Naples; and enhave been a pupil of Oderigi's. joyed the society and friendship of Dante,
p. 190¶And his might withers it, by whom it sprangCrude from the lap of earth." I thus to him:"True are thy sayings: to my heart they breatheThe kindly spirit of meekness, and allayWhat tumours rankle there. But who is he,Of whom thou spakest but now?"—"This," he replied,"Is Provenzano. He is here, becauseHe reach'd with grasp presumptuous, at the swayOf all Siena. Thus he still hath gone,Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.Such is the acquittance render'd back of him,Who, in the mortal life, too much hath dared."I then: "If soul, that to life's verge delaysRepentance, linger in that lower space,Nor hither mount, (unless good prayers befriend),Or ever time, long as it lived, be past;How chanced admittance was vouchsafed to him?""When at his glory's topmost height," said he,"Respect of dignity all cast aside,Freely he fix'd him on Siena's plain,A suitor 6 to redeem his suffering friend,Who languish'd in the prison-house of Charles;Nor, for his sake, refused through every veinTo tremble. More I will not say; and dark,I know, my words are; but thy neighbours soonShall help thee to a comment on the text.This is the work, that from these limits freed him."
¶• Provenzano Salvani, for the sake of and this act of self-abasement atoned for one of his friends who was detained in his general ambition. He fell at Vald' captivity by Charles I of Sicily, personally Elsa, where the Florentines discomfited supplicated the people of Siena to con- the Siencse in June, 1269.
¶tribute the ransom required by the King;
Canto XII
¶ARGUMENT . — Dante , being desired by Virgil to look down on the ground which they are treading, observes that it is wrought over with imagery exhibiting various instances of pride recorded in history and fable. They leave the first cornice, and are ushered to the next by an angel who points out the way.
¶ITH equal pace, as oxen in the yoke,WI, with that laden spirit, journey'd on,Long as the mild instructor suffer'd me;But, when he bade me quit him, and proceed,(For "Here," said he, "behoves with sail and oarsEach man, as best he may, push on his bark,")Upright, as one disposed for speed, I raisedMy body, still in thought submissive bow'd.I now my leader's track not loth pursued;And each had shown how light we fared along,When thus he warned me: "Bend thine eyesight down,For thou, to ease the way, shalt find it goodTo ruminate the bed beneath thy feet."As, in memorial of the buried, drawnUpon earth-level tombs, the sculptured formOf what was once, appears, (at sight whereofTears often stream forth, by remembrance waked,Whose sacred stings the piteous often feel),So saw I there, but with more curious skillOf portraiture o'erwrought, whate'er of spaceFrom forth the mountain stretches. On one partHim I beheld, above all creatures erstCreated noblest, lightening fall from Heaven:On the other side, with bolt celestial pierced,Briareus; cumbering earth he lay, through dintOf mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbraran god, 1With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,Arm'd still, and gazing on the giants' limbsStrewn o'er the ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:At foot of the stupendous work he stood,As if bewilder'd, looking on the crowdLeagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar's plain.O Niobe! in what a trance of woe
¶' " The Thymbraan god." Apollo.[192]Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,Seven sons on either side thee slain. O Saul!How ghastly didst thou look, on thine own swordExpiring, in Gilboa, from that hourNe'er visited with rain from heaven, or dew.O fond Arachne! thee I also saw,Half spider now, in anguish, crawling upThe unfinish'd web thou weaved'st to thy bane.0 Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seemLouring no more defiance; but fear-smote,With none to chase him, in his chariot whirl'd.Was shown beside upon the solid floor,How dear Alcmzon forced his mother rateThat ornament, in evil hour received:How, in the temple, on Sennacherib fellHis sons, and how a corpse they left him there.Was shown the scath, and cruel mangling madeBy Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried,"Blood thou didst thirst for: take thy fill of blood."Was shown how routed in the battle fledThe Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e'enThe relics of the carnage. Troy I mark'd,In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fallen,How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there.What master of the pencil or the styleHad traced the shades and lines, that might have madeThe subtlest workman wonder? Dead, the dead;The living seem'd alive: with clearer view,His eye beheld not, who beheld the truth,Than mine what I did tread on, while I wentLow bending. Now swell out, and with stiff necksPass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks,Lest they descry the evil of your path.I noted not (so busied was my thought)How much we now had circled of the mount;And of his course yet more the sun had spent;When he, who with still wakeful caution went,Admonish'd: "Raise thou up thy head: for knowTime is not now for slow suspense. Behold,That way, an Angel hasting toward us. Lo,[193]When duly the sixth handmaid doth returnFrom service on the day. Wear thou, in lookAnd gesture, seemly grace of reverent awe;That gladly he may forward us aloft.Consider that this day ne'er dawns again."Time's loss he had so often warn'd me 'gainst,I could not miss the scope at which he aim'd.The goodly shape approach'd us, snowy whiteIn vesture, and with visage casting streamsOf tremulous lustre like the matin star.His arms he open'd, then his wings; and spake:"Onward! the steps, behold, are near; and nowThe ascent is without difficulty gain'd."A scanty few are they, who, when they hearSuch tidings, hasten. O, ye race of men!Though born to soar, why suffer ye a windSo slight to baffle ye? He led us onWhere the rock parted; here, against my front,Did beat his wings; then promised I should fareIn safety on my way. As to ascendThat steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands,'(O'er Rubaconte, looking lordly downOn the well-guided city 1), up the rightThe impetuous rise is broken by the stepsCarved in that old and simple age, when stillThe registry 4 and label rested safe;Thus is the acclivity relieved, which here,Precipitous, from the other circuit falls:But, on each hand, the tall cliff presses close.As, entering, there we turn'd, voices, in strainIneffable, sang: "Blessed 5 are the poorIn spirit." Ah! how far unlike to these[194]The straits of Hell: here songs to usher us,There shrieks of woe. We climb the holy stairs:And lighter to myself by far I seem'dThan on the plain before; whence thus I spake:"Say, master, of what heavy thing have IBeen lighten'd; that scarce aught the sense of toilAffects me journeying?" He in few replied:"When sin's broad characters, 6 that yet remainUpon thy temples, though well nigh effaced,Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out;Then shall thy feet by heartiness of willBe so o'ercome, they not alone shall feelNo sense of labor, but delight much moreShall wait them, urged along their upward way."Then like to one, upon whose head is placedSomewhat he deems not of, but from the becksOf others, as they pass him by; his handLends therefore help to assure him, searches, finds,And well performs such office as the eyeWants power to execute; so stretching forthThe fingers of my right hand, did I findSix only of the letters, which his sword,Who bare the keys, had traced upon my brow.The leader, as he mark'd mine action, smiled.
Canto XIII
¶ARGUMENT . — They gain the second cornice, where the sin of envy is purged; and having proceeded a little to the right, they hear voices uttered by invisible spirits recounting famous examples of charity, and next behold the shades, or souls, of the envious clad in sackcloth, and having their eyes sewed up with an iron thread. Amongst these Dante finds Sapia, a Siennese lady, from whom he learns the cause of her being there.
¶WE reach'd the summit of the scale, and stood Upon the second buttress of that mount
¶Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there Like to the former, girdles round the hill;
¶Save that its arch, with sweep less ample, bends.
¶• "Sin's broad characters." Of the seven now vanished in consequence of his hav-P's, that denoted the same number of ing passed the place where the sin of sins (Pcccata) whereof he was to be pride, the chief of them, was expiated, cleansed (see Canto ix. 100), the first had
p. 195¶Shadow, nor image there, is seen: all smoothThe rampart and the path, reflecting naughtBut the rock's sullen hue. "If here we wait,For some to question," said the bard, "I fearOur choice may haply meet too long delay."Then fixedly upon the sun his eyesHe fasten'd; made his right the central pointFrom whence to move; and turn'd the left aside."O pleasant light, my confidence and hope!Conduct us thou," he cried, "on this new way,Where now I venture; leading to the bournWe seek. The universal world to theeOwes warmth and lustre. If no other causeForbid, thy beams should ever be our guide."Far, as is measured for a mile on earth,In brief space had we journey'd; such prompt willImpell'd; and toward us flying, now were heardSpirits invisible, who courteouslyUnto love's table bade the welcome guest.The voice, that first flew by, call'd forth aloud,"They have no wine," so on behind us past,Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lostIn the faint distance, when another cameCrying, "I am Orestes,"1 and alikeWing'd its fleet way. "O father!" I exclaim'd,"What tongues are these?" and as I question'd, lo!A third exclaiming, "Love ye those have wrong'd you.""This circuit," said my teacher, "knots the scourgeFor envy; and the cords are therefore drawnBy charity's correcting hand. The curbIs of a harsher sound; as thou shalt hear(If I deem rightly) ere thou reach the pass,Where pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyesIntently through the air; and thou shalt seeA multitude before thee seated, eachAlong the shelving grot." Then more than erstI oped mine eyes; before me view'd; and sawShadows with garments dark as was the rock;And when we pass'd a little forth, I heard[196]A crying, "Blessed Mary! pray for us,Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!"I do not think there walks on earth this dayMan so remorseless, that he had not yearn'dWith pity at the sight that next I saw.Mine eyes a load of sorrow teem'd, when nowI stood so near them, that their semblancesCame clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vileTheir covering seem'd; and, on his shoulder, oneDid stay another, leaning; and all lean'dAgainst the cliff. E'en thus the blind and poor,Near the confessionals, to crave an alms,Stand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk;So most to stir compassion, not by soundOf words alone, but that which moves not less,The sight of misery. And as never beamOf noon-day visiteth the eyeless man,E'en so was heaven a niggard unto theseOf his fair light: for, through the orbs of all,A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,As for the taming of a haggard hawk.It were a wrong, methought, to pass and lookOn others, yet myself the while unseen.To my sage counsel therefore did I turn.He knew the meaning of the mute appeal,Nor waited for my questioning, but said:"Speak; and be brief, be subtile in thy words."On that part of the cornice, whence no rimEngarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come;On the other side me were the spirits, their checksBathing devout with penitential tears,That through the dread impalement forced a way.I turn'd me to them, and "O shades!" said I,"Assured that to your eyes unveil'd shall shineThe lofty light, sole object of your wish,So may Heaven's grace clear whatsoe'er of foamFloats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforthThe stream of mind roll limpid from its source;As ye declare (for so shall ye impartA boon I dearly prize) if any soul[197]Of Latium dwell among ye: and perchanceThat soul may profit, if I learn so much.""My brother! we are, each one, citizensOf one true city. 2 Any, thou wouldst say,Who lived a stranger in Italia's land."So heard I answering, as appear'd, a voiceThat onward came some space from whence I stood.A spirit I noted, in whose look was mark'dExpectance. Ask ye how ? The chin was raisedAs in one reft of sight. "Spirit," said I,"Who for thy rise art tutoring, (if thou beThat which didst answer to me), or by place,Or name, disclose thyself, that I may know thee.""I was," it answer'd, "of Sienna: hereI cleanse away with these the evil life,Soliciting with tears that He, who is,Vouchsafe Him to us. Though Sapia' named,In sapience I excell'd not; gladder farOf other's hurt, than of the good befell me.That thou mayst own I now deceive thee not,Hear, if my folly were not as I speak it.When now my tears sloped waning down the arch,It so bechanced, my fellow-citizensNear Colle met their enemies in the field;And I pray'd God to grant what He had will'd. 4There were they vanquish'd, and betook themselvesUnto the bitter passages of flight.I mark'd the hunt; and waxing out of boundsIn gladness, lifted up my shameless brow,And, like the merlin 5 cheated by a gleam,Cried: 'It is over. Heaven! I fear thee not.*Upon my verge of life I wish'd for peaceWith God; nor yet repentance had suppliedWhat I did lack of duty, were it not
p. 197¶J" Citizens of one true city!" 4 " What He had will'd." That "For here we have no continuing city, her countrymen should be defeated in but we seek one to come."—Hcb. xiii. 14. battle.
¶' "Sapia." A lady of Sienna, living in s Induced by a gleam of fine weather exile at Colic, so overjoyed at a defeat in the winter to escape from his master, which her countrymen sustained near the merlin was soon oppressed by the that place, that she declared nothing more rigor of the season,
¶was wanting to make her die contented.
p. 198¶The hermit Piero,' touch'd with charity,In his devout orisons thought on me.But who art thou that question'st of our state,Who go'st, as I believe, with lids unclosed,And breathest in thy talk?"—"Mine eyes," said I,"May yet be here ta'en from me; but not long;For they have not offended grievouslyWith envious glances. But the woe beneath 7Urges my soul with more exceeding dread.That nether load already weighs me down."She thus: "Who then, amongst us here aloft,Hath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?""He," answered I, "who standeth mute beside me.I live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit!If thou desire I yonder yet should moveFor thee my mortal feet."—"Oh!" she replied,"This is so strange a thing, it is great signThat God doth love thee. Therefore with thy prayerSometime assist me: and, by that I crave,Which most thou covetest, that if thy feetE'er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fameAmongst my kindred. Them shalt thou beholdWith that vain multitude, 8 who set their hopeOn Telamone's haven; there to failConfounded, more than when the fancied streamThey sought, of Dian call'd: but they, who leadTheir navies, more than ruin'd hopes shall mourn."
¶' The hermit Piero." Piero Petti- subject to the sin of pride, than to that nagno, a holy hermit of Florence. of envy.
Canto XIV
¶ARGUMENT . — Our Poet on this second cornice finds also the souls of Guido del Duca of Brettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli of Romagna; the latter of whom, hearing that he comes from the banks of the Arno, inveighs against the degeneracy of all those who dwell in the cities visited by that stream; and the former, in like manner, against the inhabitants of Romagna. On leaving these, our Poets hear voices recording noted instances of envy.
¶" ^ ^ A Y , 1 who is he around our mountain winds,Or ever death has pruned his wing for flight;J That opes his eyes, and covers them at will?""I know not who he is, but know thus much;He comes not singly. Do thou ask of him,For thou art nearer to him; and take heed,Accost him gendy, so that he may speak."Thus on the right two spirits, bending eachToward the other, talk'd of me; then bothAddressing me, their faces backward lean'd,And thus the one 2 began: "O soul, who yetPent in the body, tendest towards the sky!For charity, we pray thee, comfort us;Recounting whence thou comest, and who thou art:For thou dost make us, at the favor shown thee,Marvel, as at a thing that ne'er hath been.""There stretches through the midst of Tuscany,"I straight began, "a brooklet, 5 whose well-headSprings up in Falterona; with his raceNot satisfied, when he some hundred milesHath measured. From his banks bring I this frame.To tell you who I am were words mis-spent:For yet my name scarce sounds on rumour's lip.""If well I do incorporate with my thoughtThe meaning of thy speech," said he, who firstAddress'd me, "thou dost speak of Arno's wave."To whom the other: 4 "Why hath he conceal'dThe tide of that river, as a manDoth of some horrible thing?" The spirit, who
¶' "Say." The two spirits who thus 3 The Arno, that rises in Falterona, a speak to each other are Guido del Duca, mountain in the Apennines. Its course of Brettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli, of is 120 miles.
¶Romagna. 4 Rinieri da Calboli.
p. 200¶Thereof was question'd, did acquit him thus:"I know not: but 'tis fitting well the nameShould perish of that vale; for from the source,*Where teems so plenteously the Alpine steepMaim'd of Pelorus, (that doth scarcely passBeyond that limit), even to the pointWhere unto ocean is restored what heavenDrains from the exhaustless store for all earth's streams,Throughout the space is virtue worried down,As't were a snake, by all, for mortal foe;Or through disastrous influence on the place,Or else distortion of misguided willsThat custom goads to evil: whence in those,The dwellers in that miserable vale,Nature is so transform'd, it seems as theyHad shared of Circe's feeding. 'Midst brute swine,'Worthier of acorns than of other foodCreated for man's use, he shapeth firstHis obscure way; then, sloping onward, findsCurs, 7 snarlers more in spite than power, from whomHe turns with scorn aside: still journeying down,By how much more the curst and luckless foss'Swells out to largeness, e'en so much it findsDogs turning into wolves.' Descending stillThrough yet more hollow eddies, next he meetsA race of foxes, 10 so replete with craft,They do not fear that skill can master it.Nor will I cease because my words are heard 11By other ears than thine. It shall be wellFor this man, 12 if he keep in memoryWhat from no erring spirit I reveal.Lo! I behold thy grandson,' 3 that becomes[201]A hunter of those wolves, upon the shoreOf the fierce stream; and cows them all with dread.Their flesh, yet living, sets he up to sale,Then, like an aged beast, to slaughter dooms.Many of life he reaves, himself of worthAnd goodly estimation. Smear'd with gore,Mark how he issues from the rueful wood;Leaving such havoc, that in thousand yearsIt spreads not to prime lustihood again."As one, who tidings hears of woe to come,Changes his looks perturb'd, from whate'er partThe peril grasp him; so beheld I changeThat spirit, who had turn'd to listen; struckWith sadness, soon as he had caught the word.His visage, and the other's speech, did raiseDesire in me to know the names of both;Whereof, with meek entreaty, I inquired.The shade, who late address'd me, thus resumed:"Thy wish imports, that I vouchsafe to doFor thy sake what thou wilt not do for mine.But, since God's will is that so largely shineHis grace in thee, I will be liberal too.Guido of Duca know then that I am.Envy so parch'd my blood, that had I seenA fellow man made joyous, thou had'st mark'dA livid paleness overspread my cheek.Such harvest reap I of the seed I sow'd.O man! why place thy heart where there doth needExclusion of participants in good ?This is Rinieri's spirit; this, the boastAnd honour of the house of Calboli;Where of his worth no heritage remains.Nor his the only blood, that hath been stript('Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore 14)Of all that truth or fancy asks for bliss:But, in those limits, such a growth has sprungOf rank and venom'd roots, as long would mockSlow culture's toil. Where is good Lizio? 15 where
p. 201¶The boundaries of Romagna. duced into Boccaccio's Decameron, G. v. "Lizio." Lizio da Valbona intro- N . 4.
Mainardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna? 1'O bastard slips of old Romagna's line!When in Bologna the low artisan, 17And in Faenza yon Bernardin 18 sprouts,A gentle cyon from ignoble stem.Wonder not, Tuscan, if thou see me weep,When I recall to mind those once loved names,Guido of Prata, 19 and of Azzo him 20That dwelt with us; Tignoso 21 and his troop,With Traversaro's house and Anastagio's, 22(Each race disherited); and beside these,The ladies and the knights, the toils and ease,That witch'd us into love and courtesy;Where now such malice reigns in recreant heartsO Brettinoro! 23 wherefore tarriest still,Since forth of thee thy family hath gone,And many, hating evil, join'd their steps?Well doeth he, that bids his lineage cease,
¶Bagnacavallo; 24 Castrocaro ill,
And Conio worse, 25 who care to propagateA race of Counties 26 from such blood as theirs.Well shall ye also do, Pagani, 27 thenWhen from amongst you hies your demon child;Not so, howe'er, that thenceforth there remain
¶1 6 Arrigo Manardi, of Faenza, or, as ger arrived among them, contended with some say, of Brettinoro; Pier Traversaro, one another by whom he should be enterLord of Ravenna; and Guido di Carpigna, tained; and that in order to end this disof Montefeltro. pute, they set up a pillar with as many
¶1 7 One who had been a mechanic, rings as there were fathers of families named Lambcrtaccio, arrived at almost among them, a ring being assigned to supreme power in Bologna. each, and that accordingly as a stranger
¶1 8 Benardin di Fosco, a man of low on his arrival hung his horse's bridle on origin, but great talents, who governed one or other of these, he became his at Faenza. guest to whom the ring belonged.
¶1 9 "Prata." A place between Faenza M "Bagnacavallo." A castle between and Ravenna. Imola and Ravenna.
¶2 0 " Of Azzo him." Ugolino, of the 2 5 , 1 Castrocaro ill, and Conio Ubaldini family in Tuscany. worse." Both in Romagna.
¶2 1 Federigo Tignoso of Rimini. 2 8 "Counties." I have used this word " Two noble families of Ravenna. here for "counts," as it is in Shakespeare.
¶2 3 " O Brettinoro." A beautifully sit 2 7 "Pagani." The Pagani were lords of uated castle in Romagna, the hospitable Faenza and Imola. One of them, Machiresidence of Guido del Duca, who is here nardo, was named "the Demon," from speaking. Landino relates that there were his treachery. See Hell, Canto xxvii. 47 several of this family who, when a stran and note.
p. 203¶True proof of what ye were. O Hugolin, 28Thou sprung of Fantolini's line! thy nameIs safe; since none is look'd for after theeTo cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock.But, Tuscan! go thy ways; for now I takeFar more delight in weeping, than in words.Such pity for your sakcs hath wrung my heart."We knew those gentle spirits, at parting, heardOur steps. Their silence therefore, of our way,Assured us. Soon as we had quitted them,Advancing onward, lo! a voice, that seem'dLike volley'd lightning, when it rives the air,Met us, and shouted, "Whosoever findsWill slay me"; then fled from us, as the boltLanced sudden from a downward-rushing cloud.When it had given short truce unto our hearing,Behold the other with a crash as loudAs the quick-following thunder: "Mark in meAglauros, turn'd to rock." I, at the soundRetreating, drew more closely to my guide.Now in mute stilness rested all the air;And thus he spake: "There was the galling bit,Which should keep man within his boundary.But your old enemy so baits the hook,He drags you eager to him. Hence nor curbAvails you, nor reclaiming call. Heaven calls,And, round about you wheeling, courts your gazeWith everlasting beauties. Yet your eyeTurns with fond doting still upon the earth.Therefore He smites you who discerneth all."
Canto XV
¶ARGUMENT . — An Angel invites them to ascend the next steep. On their way Dante suggests certain doubts, which arc resolved by Virgil; and, when they reach the third cornice, where the sin of anger is purged, our Poet, in a kind of waking dream, beholds remarkable instances of patience; and soon after they arc enveloped in a dense fog.
¶AS much as 'twixt the third hour's close and dawn,/ \ Appeareth of Heaven's sphere, that ever whirlsJ \ . As restless as an infant in his play;So much appear'd remaining to the sunOf his slope journey towards the western goal.Evening was there, and here the noon of night;And full upon our forehead smote the beams.For round the mountain, circling, so our pathHad led us, that toward the sunset nowDirect we journey'd; when I felt a weightOf more exceeding splendour, than before,Press on my front. The cause unknown, amazePossess'd me! and both hands against my browsLifting, I interposed them, as a screen,That of its gorgeous superflux of lightClips the diminish'd orb. As when the ray,Striking on water or the surface clearOf mirror, leaps unto the opposite part,Ascending at a glance, e'en as it fell,And as much differs from the stone, that fallsThrough equal space, (so practic skill hath shown);Thus, with refracted light, before me seem'dThe ground there smitten; whence, in sudden haste,My sight recoil'd. "What is this, sire beloved!'Gainst which I strive to shield the sight in vain?"Cried I, "and which toward us moving seems?""Marvel not, if the family of Heaven,"He answer'd, "yet with dazzling radiance dimThy sense. It is a messenger who comes,Inviting man's ascent. Such sights ere long,Not grievous, shall impart to thee delight,As thy perception is by nature wroughtUp to their pitch." The blessed Angel, soon[205]As we had reach'd him, hail'd us with glad voice:"Here enter on a ladder far less steepThan ye have yet encounter'd." We forthwithAscending, heard behind us chanted sweet,"Blessed the merciful," I and "Happy thou,That conquer'st." Lonely each, my guide and I,Pursued our upward way; and as we went,Some profit from his words I hoped to win,And thus of him inquiring, framed my speech:"What meant Romagna's spirit, 2 when he spakeOf bliss exclusive, with no partner shared?"He straight replied: "No wonder, since he knowsWhat sorrow waits on his own worst defect,If he chide others, that they less may mourn.Because ye point your wishes at a mark,Where, by communion of possessors, partIs lessen'd, envy bloweth up men's sighs.No fear of that might touch ye, if the loveOf higher sphere exalted your desire.For there, by how much more they call it ours.So much propriety of each in goodEncreases more, and heighten'd charityWraps that fair cloister in a brighter flame.""Now lack I satisfaction more," said I,"Than if thou hadst been silent at the first;And doubt more gathers on my labouring thought.How can it chance, that good distributed,The many, that possess it, makes more rich,Than if't were shared by few?" He answering thus:"Thy mind, reverting still to things of earth,Strikes darkness from true light. The highest GoodUnlimited, ineffable, doth so speedTo love, as beam to lucid body darts,Giving as much of ardour as it finds.The sempiternal effluence streams abroad.Spreading, wherever charity extends;.So that the more aspirants to that blissAre multiplied, more good is there to love,And more is loved; as mirrors, that reflect,[206]Each unto other, propagated light.If these my words avail not to allayThy thirsting, Beatrice thou shalt see,Who of this want, and of all else thou hast,Shall rid thee to the full. Provide but thou,That from thy temples may be soon erased,E'en as the two already, those five scars,That, when they pain thee worst, then kindliest heal.""Thou," I had said, "content'st me"; when I sawThe other round was gain'd, and wondering eyesDid keep me mute. There suddenly I seem'dBy an ecstatic vision wrapt away;And in a temple saw, methought, a crowdOf many persons; and at the entrance stoodA dame, whose sweet demeanour did expressA mother's love, who said, "Child! why hast thouDealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and ISorrowing have sought thee"; and so held her peace;And straight the vision fled. A female nextAppear'd before me, down whose visage coursedThose waters, that grief forces out from oneBy deep resentment stung, who seem'd to say:'If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeedOver this city,' named with such debateOf adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embraceHath clasp'd our daughter"; and to her, meseem'd,Benign and meek, with visage undisturb'd,Her sovran spake: "How shall we those requite1Who wish us evil, if we thus condemnThe man that loves us?" After that I sawA multitude, in fury burning, slayWith stones a stripling youth,2 and shout amain"Destroy, destroy"; and him I saw, who bow'd[207]Heavy with death unto the ground, yet madeHis eyes, unfolded upward, gates to Heaven,Praying forgiveness of the Almighty Sire,Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,With looks that win compassion to their aim.Soon as my spirit, from her airy flightReturning, sought again the things whose truthDepends not on her shaping, I observedShe had not roved to falsehood in her dreams.Meanwhile the leader, who might see I movedAs one who struggles to shake off his sleep,Exclaim'd: "What ails thee, that thou canst not holdThy footing firm; but more than half a leagueHast travel'd with closed eyes and tottering gait,Like to a man by wine or sleep o'ercharged?""Beloved father! so thou deign," said I,"To listen, I will tell thee what appear'dBefore me, when so fail'd my sinking steps."He thus: "Not if thy countenance were mask'dWith hundred vizards, could a thought of thine,How small soe'er, elude me. What thou saw'stWas shown, that freely thou mightst ope thy heartTo the waters of peace, that flow diffusedFrom their eternal fountain. I not ask'd,What ails thee? for such cause as he doth, whoLooks only with that eye, which sees no more,When spiritless the body lies; but ask'd,To give fresh vigour to thy foot. Such goads,The slow and loitering need; that they be foundNot wanting, when their hour of watch returns."So on we journey'd, through the evening skyGazing intent, far onward as our eyes,With level view, could stretch against the brightVespertine ray: and lo! by slow degreesGathering, a fog made towards us, dark as night.There was no room for 'scaping; and that mistBereft us, both of sight and the pure air.
Canto XVI
¶ARGUMENT.—As they proceed through the mist, they hear the voices of spirits praying. Marco Lombardo, one of these, points out to Dante the error of such as impute our actions to necessity; explains to him that man is endued with free will; and shows that much of human depravity results from the undue mixture of spiritual and temporal authority in rulers.
¶HELL'S dunnest gloom, or night unlustrous, dark,Of every planet 'reft, and pall'd in clouds,Did never spread before the sight a veilIn thickness like that fog, nor to the senseSo palpable and gross. Entering its shade,Mine eye endured not with unclosed lids;Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide,Offering me his shoulder for a stay.As the blind man behind his leader walks,Lest he should err, or stumble unawaresOn what might harm him or perhaps destroy;I journey'd through that bitter air and foul,Still listening to my escort's warning voice,"Look that from me thou part not." Straight I heardVoices, and each one seem'd to pray for peace,And for compassion, to the Lamb of GodThat taketh sins away. Their prelude stillWas "Agnus Dei"; and through all the choir,One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seem'dThe concord of their song. "Are these I hearSpirits, O master?" I exclaim'd; and he,"Thou aim'st aright: these loose the bonds of wrath.""Now who art thou, that through our smoke dost cleave,And speak'st of us, as thou thyself e'en yetDividedst time by calends?" So one voiceBespake me; whence my master said, "Reply;And ask, if upward hence the passage lead.""O being! who dost make thee pure, to standBeautiful once more in thy Maker's sight;Along with me: and thou shalt hear and wonder."Thus I, whereto the spirit answering spake:"Long as 'tis lawful for me, shall my stepsFollow on thine; and since the cloudy smoke[209]Forbids the seeing, hearing in its steadShall keep us join'd." I then forthwith began:"Yet in my mortal swathing, I ascendTo higher regions; and am hither comeThorough the fearful agony of Hell.And, if so largely God hath doled His grace,That, clean beside all modern precedent,He wills me to behold His kingly state;From me conceal not who thou wast, ere deathHad loosed thee; but instruct me: and instructIf rightly to the pass I tend; thy wordsThe way directing, as a safe escort.""I was of Lombardy, and Marco call'd:1Not inexperienced of the world, that worthI still affected, from which all have turn'dThe nerveless bow aside. Thy course tends rightUnto the summit:" and, replying thus,He added, "I beseech thee pray for me,When thou shalt come aloft." And I to him:"Accept my faith for pledge I will performWhat thou requirest. Yet one doubt remains,That wrings me sorely, if I solve it not.Singly before it urged me, doubled nowBy thine opinion, when I couple thatWith one elsewhere declared; each strengthening other.The world indeed is even so forlornOf all good, as thou speak'st it, and so swarmsWith every evil. Yet, beseech thee, pointThe cause out to me, that myself may see,And unto others show it: for in HeavenOne places it, and one on earth below."Then heaving forth a deep and audible sigh,"Brother!" he thus began, "the world is blind;And thou in truth comest from it. Ye, who live,[210]Do so each cause refer to Heaven above,E'en as its motion, of necessity,Drew with it all that moves. If this were so,Free choice in you were none; nor justice wouldThere should be joy for virtue, woe for ill.Your movements have their primal bent from Heaven;Not all: yet said I all; what then ensues?Light have ye still to follow evil or good,And of the will free power, which, if it standFirm and unwearied in Heaven's first assay,Conquers at last, so it be cherish'd well,Triumphant over all. To mightier force,To better nature subject, ye abideFree, not constrain'd by that which forms in youThe reasoning mind uninfluenced of the stars.If then the present race of mankind err,Seek in yourselves the cause, and find it there;Herein thou shalt confess me no false spy."Forth from His plastic hand, who charm'd beholdsHer image ere she yet exist, the soulComes like a babe, that wantons sportively,Weeping and laughing in its wayward moods;As artless, and as ignorant of aught,Save that her Maker being one who dwellsWith gladness ever, willingly she turnsTo whate'er yields her joy. Of some slight goodThe flavour soon she tastes; and, snared by that,With fondness she pursues it; if no guideRecall, no rein direct her wandering course.Hence it behoved, the law should be a curb;A sovereign hence behoved, whose piercing viewMight mark at least the fortress1 and main towerOf the true city. Laws indeed there are:But who is he observes them? None; not he,Who goes before, the shepherd of the flock,[211]Who 3 chews the cud but doth not cleave the hoof.Therefore the multitude, who see their guideStrike at the very good they covet most,Feed there and look no further. Thus the causeIs not corrupted nature in yourselves,But ill-conducting, that hath turn'd the worldTo evil. Rome, that turn'd it unto good,Was wont to boast two suns, 4 whose several beamsCast light on either way, the world's and God's.One since hath quench'd the other; and the swordIs grafted on the crook; and, so conjoin'd,Each must perforce decline to worse, unawedBy fear of other. If thou doubt me, markThe blade: each herb is judged of by its seed.That land, 5 through which Adice and the PoTheir waters roll, was once the residenceOf courtesy and valour, ere the day 8That frown'd on Frederick; now secure may passThose limits, whosoe'er hath left, for shame,To talk with good men, or come near their haunts.Three aged ones are still found there, in whomThe old time chides the new: these deem it longEre God restore them to a better world:The good Gherardo, 7 of Palazzo he,Conrad;' and Guido of Castello, 9 namedIn Gallic phrase more fitly the plain Lombard.On this at last conclude. The Church of Rome,Mixing two governments that ill assort,Hath miss'd her footing, fallen into the mire,And there herself and burden much defiled."[212]"O Marco!" I replied, "thine argumentsConvince me: and the cause I now discern,Why of the heritage no portion cameTo Levi's offspring. But resolve me this:Who that Gherardo is, that as thou say'stIs left a sample of the perish'd race,And for rebuke to this untoward age?""Either thy words," said he, "deceive, or elseAre meant to try me; that thou, speaking Tuscan,Appear'st not to have heard of good Gherardo;The sole addition that, by which I know him;Unless I borrow'd from his daughter Gai'a 10Another name to grace him. God be with you.I bear you company no more. BeholdThe dawn with white ray glimmering through the mist.I must away—the angel comes—ere heAppear." He said, and would not hear me more.
Canto XVII
¶ARGUMENT . — The Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy represents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This imagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them onward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference is purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of love, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the soul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either in respect of object or of degree.
¶CALL to remembrance, reader, if thou e'erHast on an Alpine height been ta'en by cloud,Through which thou saw'st no better than the moleDoth through opacous membrane; then, whene'erThe watery vapours dense began to meltInto thin air, how faintly the sun's sphereSeem'd wading through them: so thy nimble thoughtMay image, how at first I rebeheldThe sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.Thus, with my leader's feet still equaling pace,From forth that cloud I came, when now expired[213]The parting beams from off the nether shores.O quick and forgetive power I that sometimes dostSo rob us of ourselves, we take no markThough round about us thousand trumpets clang;What moves thee, if the senses stir not? LightMoves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self-inform'd;Or, likelier, gliding down with swift illapseBy will divine. Portray'd before me cameThe traces of her dire impiety,Whose form was changed into the bird, that mostDelights itself in song: I and here my mindWas inwardly so wrapt, it gave no placeTo aught that ask'd admittance from without.Next shower'd into my fantasy a shapeAs of one crucified, whose visage spakeFell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;And round him Ahasuerus the great king;Esther his bride; and Mordecai the just,Blameless in word and deed. As of itselfThat unsubstantial coinage of the brainBurst, like a bubble, when the water failsThat fed it; in my vision straight uproseA damsel 1 weeping loud, and cried, "O queenlO mother! wherefore has intemperate ireDriven thee to loathe thy being? Not to loseLavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tearsMourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end."E'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenlyNew radiance strikes upon the closed lids,The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;Thus, from before me, sunk that imagery,Vanishing, soon as on my face there struckThe light, outshining far our earthly beam.[214]As round I turn'd me to survey what placeI had arrived at, "Here ye mount": exclaim'dA voice, that other purpose left me noneSave will so eager to behold who spake,I could not chuse but gaze. As 'fore the sun,That weighs our vision down, and veils his formIn light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'dUnequal. "This is Spirit from above,Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;And in his own light shrouds him. As a manDoth for himself, so now is done for us.For whoso waits imploring, yet sees needOf his prompt aidance, sets himself preparedFor blunt denial, ere the suit be made.Refuse we not to lend a ready footAt such inviting: haste we to ascend,Before it darken: for we may not then,Till morn again return." So spake my guide;And to one ladder both address'd our steps;And the first stair approaching, I perceivedNear me as't were the waving of a wing,That fann'd my face, and whisper'd: "Blessed they,The peace-makers: they know not evil wrath."Now to such height above our heads were raisedThe last beams, follow'd close by hooded night,That many a star on all sides through the gloomShone out. "Why partest from me, O my strength?"So with myself I communed; for I feltMy o'ertoil'd sinews slacken. We had reach'dThe summit, and were fix'd like to a barkArrived at land. And waiting a short space,If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,Then to my guide I turn'd, and said: "Loved sire!Declare what guilt is on this circle purged.If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause."He thus to me: "The love of good, whate'erWanted of just proportion, here fulfils.Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,Give ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull[215]Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay."Creator, nor created being, e'er,My son," he thus began, "was without love,Or natural, or the free spirit's growth,Thou hast not that to learn. The natural stillIs without error: but the other swerves,If on ill object bent, or through excessOf vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeksThe primal blessings, 5 or with measure dueThe inferior, 4 no delight, that flows from it,Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,Or with more ardour than behoves, or less,Pursue the good; the thing created thenWorks 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must inferThat love is germin of each virtue in ye,And of each act no less, that merits pain.Now 5 since it may not be, but love intendThe welfare mainly of the thing it loves,All from self-hatred are secure; and sinceNo being can be thought to exist apart,And independent of the first, a barOf equal force restrains from hating that."Grant the distinction just; and it remainsThe evil must be another's, which is loved.Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.There is 6 who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest)Pre-eminence himself; and covets hence,For his own greatness, that another fall.There is 7 who so much fears the loss of power,Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mountAbove him), and so sickens at the thought,He loves their opposite: and there is he,'Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame,That he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needsMust dote on other's evil. Here beneath,
p. 215¶' " The primal blessings." Spiritual can therefore rejoice only in thegood. which befalls others."[216]This threefold love is mourn'd. Of the other sortBe now instructed; that which follows good,But with disorder'd and irregular course."All indistincdy apprehend a bliss,On which the soul may rest; the hearts of allYearn after it; and to that wished bournAll therefore strive to tend. If ye behold,Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax;This cornice, after just repenting, laysIts penal torment on ye. Other goodThere is, where man finds not his happiness:It is not true fruition; not that blestEssence, of every good the branch and root.The love too lavishly bestow'd on this,Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.Account of that division tripartiteExpect not, fitter for thine own research."
Canto XVIII
¶ARGUMENT . — Virgil discourses further concerning the nature of love. Then a multitude of spirits rush by; two of whom, in van of the rest, record instances of zeal and fervent affection, and another, who was Abbot of San Zeno in Verona, declares himself to Virgil and Dante; and lastly follow other spirits, shouting forth memorable examples of the sin for which they suffer. The Poet, pursuing his meditations, falls
¶into a dreamy slumber. T Unsated thirst to hear him urged, was mute, Concluding, earnest in my looks inquired If I appear'd content; and I, whom still HE teacher ended, and his high discourseMute outwardly, yet inwardly I said:"Perchance my too much questioning offends."But he, true father, mark'd the secret wishBy diffidence restrain'd; and, speaking, gaveMe boldness thus to speak: "Master! my sightGathers so lively virtue from thy beams,That all, thy words convey, distinct is seen.Wherefore I pray thee, father, whom this heartHolds dearest, thou wouldst deign by proof t' unfoldThat love, from which, as from their source, thou bring'stAll good deeds and their opposite." He then:[217]"To what I now disclose be thy clear kenDirected; and thou plainly shalt beholdHow much those blind have err'd, who make themselvesThe guides of men. The soul, created aptTo love, moves versatile which way soe'erAught pleasing prompts her, soon as she is wakedBy pleasure into act. Of substance trueYour apprehension forms its counterfeit;And, in you the ideal shape presenting,Attracts the soul's regard. If she, thus drawn,Incline toward it; love is that inclining,And a new nature knit by pleasure in ye.Then, as the fire points up, and mounting seeksHis birth-place and his lasting seat, e'en thusEnters the captive soul into desire,Which is a spiritual motion, that ne'er restsBefore enjoyment of the thing it loves.Enough to show thee, how the truth from thoseIs hidden, who aver all love a thingPraiseworthy in itself; although perhapsIts matter seem still good. Yet if the waxBe good, it follows not the impression must.""What love is," I return'd, "thy words, O guide!And my own docile mind, reveal. Yet thenceNew doubts have sprung. For, from without, if loveBe offered to us, and the spirit knowsNo other footing; tend she right or wrong,Is no desert of hers." He answering thus:"What reason here discovers, I have powerTo show thee: that which lies beyond, expectFrom Beatrice, faith not reason's task.Spirit, substantial form, with matter join'd,Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itselfSpecific virtue of that union born,Which is not felt except it work, nor provedBut through effect, as vegetable lifeBy the green leaf. From whence his intellectDeduced its primal notices of things,Man therefore knows not, or his appetitesTheir first affections; such in you, as zeal[218]In bees to gather honey; at the first,Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise.But o'er each lower faculty supreme,That, as she list, are summon'd to her bar,Ye have that virtue 1 in you, whose just voiceUttereth counsel, and whose word should keepThe threshold of assent. Here is the source,Whence cause of merit in you is derived;E'en as the affections, good or ill, she takes,Or severs, winnow'd as the chaff. Those men, 3Who, reasoning, went to depth profoundest, mark'dThat innate freedom; and were thence inducedTo leave their moral teaching to the world.Grant then, that from necessity ariseAll love that glows within you; to dismissOr harbour it, the power is in yourselves.Remember, Beatrice, in her style,Denominates free choice by eminenceThe noble virtue; if in talk with theeShe touch upon that theme." The moon, well nighTo midnight hour belated, made the starsAppear to wink and fade; and her broad diskSeem'd like a crag on fire, as up the vault 3That course she journey'd, which the sun then warmsWhen they of Rome behold him at his setBetwixt Sardinia and the Corsic isle.And now the weight, that hung upon my thought,Was lighten'd by the aid of that clear spirit,Who raiseth Andes 4 above Mantua's name.I therefore, when my questions had obtain'dSolution plain and ample, stood as oneMusing in dreamy slumber; but not longSlumber'd; for suddenly a multitude,The steep already turning from behind,[219]Rush'd on. With fury and like random rout,As echoing on their shores at midnight heardIsmenus and Asopus, 5 for his ThebesIf Bacchus' help were needed; so came theseTumultuous, curving each his rapid step,By eagerness impell'd of holy love.Soon they o'ertook us; with such swiftness movedThe mighty crowd. Two spirits at their headCried, weeping, "Blessed Mary' sought with hasteThe hilly region. Cscsar, 7 to subdueIlerda, darted in Marseilles his sung,And flew to Spain."—"Oh, tarry not: awayl"The others shouted; "let not time be lostThrough slackness of affection. Hearty zealTo serve reanimates celestial grace.""O ye! in whom intenser fervencyHaply supplies, where lukewarm erst ye fail'd,Slow or neglectful, to absolve your partOf good and virtuous; this man, who yet lives,(Credit my tale, though strange,) desires to ascend,So morning rise to light us. Therefore sayWhich hand leads nearest to the rifted rock."So spake my guide; to whom a shade return'd:"Come after us, and thou shalt find the cleft.We may not linger: such resistless willSpeeds our unwearied course. Vouchsafe us thenThy pardon, if our duty seem to theeDiscourteous rudeness. In Verona IWas Abbot 8 of San Zeno, when the handOf Barbarossa grasp'd imperial sway,That name ne'er utter'd without tears in Milan.And there is he,* hath one foot in his grave,[220]Who for that monastery ere long shall weep,Ruing his power misused: for that his son,Of body ill compact, and worse in mind,And born in evil, he hath set in placeOf its true pastor." Whether more he spake,Or here was mute, I know not: he had spedE'en now so far beyond us. Yet thus muchI heard, and in remembrance treasured it.He then, who never fail'd me at my need,Cried, "Hither turn. Lo! two with sharp remorseChiding their sin." In rear of all the troopThese shouted: "First they died, 10 to whom the seaOpen'd, or ever Jordan saw his heirs:And they," who with JEneas to the endEndured not suffering, for their portion choseLife without glory." Soon as they had fledPast reach of sight, new thought within me roseBy others follow'd fast, and each unlikeIts fellow: till led on from thought to thought,And pleasured with the fleeting train, mine eyeWas closed, and meditation changed to dream.
Canto XIX
¶ARGUMENT . — The Poet, after describing his dream, relates how, at the summoning of an Angel, he ascends with Virgil to the fifth cornice, where the sin of avarice is cleansed, and where he finds Pope Adrian the fifth.
¶IT was the hour, 1 when of diurnal heatNo reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary swayOf Saturn; and the geomancer 1 seesHis Greater Fortune up the east ascend,Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone,[221]When, 'fore me in my dream, a woman's shape'There came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.I look'd upon her: and, as sunshine cheersLimbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my lookUnloosed her tongue; next, in brief space, her formDecrepit raised erect, and faded faceWith love's own hue illumed. Recovering speech,She forthwith, warbling, such a strain began,That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce ha.e heldAttention from the song. "I," thus she sang,"I am the Syren, she, whom marinersOn the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear;Such fulness of delight the listener feels.I, from his course, Ulysses 4 by my layEnchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once,Parts seldom: so I charm him, and his heartContented knows no void." Or ere her mouthWas closed, to shame her, at my side appear'dA dame 5 of semblance holy. With stern voiceShe utter'd: "Say, O Virgil! who is this?"Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bentToward that goodly presence: the other seized her,And, her robes tearing, open'd her before,And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,Exhaling loathsome, waked me. Round I turn'dMine eyes: and thus the teacher: "At the leastThree times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone.Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass."I straightway rose. Now day, pour'd down from high,Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smoteThe early ray. I follow'd, stooping lowMy forehead, as a man, o'ercharged with thought,
p. 221¶' " A woman's shape." Worldly happi- for the contradiction is, to suppose that ncss. This allegory reminds us of the she is here represented as purposely de- "Choice of Hercules." viating from the truth. Or Dante may
p. 222¶Who bends him to the likeness of an archThat midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,"Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild,As never met the ear on mortal strand.With swan-like wings dispred and pointing up,Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along,Where, each side of the solid masonry,The sloping walls retired; then moved his plumes,And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn, 8Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs."What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"Began my leader; while the angelic shapeA little over us his station took."New vision," I replied, "hath raised in meSurmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereonMy soul intent allows no other thoughtOr room, or entrance."—"Hast thou seen," said he"That old enchantress, her, whose wiles aloneThe spirits o'er us weep for? Hast thou seenHow man may free him of her bonds? Enough.Let thy heels spurn the earth; and thy raised kenFix on the lure, which Heaven's eternal KingWhirls in the rolling spheres." As on his feetThe falcon first looks down, then to the skyTurns, and forth stretches eager for the food,That woos him thither; so the call I heard:So onward, far as the dividing rockGave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.On the fifth circle when I stood at large,A race appear'd before me, on the groundAll downward lying prone and weeping sore."My soul hath cleaved to the dust," I heardWith sighs so deep, they well nigh choked the words."O ye elect of God! whose penal woesBoth hope and justice mitigate, directTowards the steep rising our uncertain way.""If ye approach secure from this our doom,Prostration, and would urge your course with speed,
¶"Who mourn." "Blessed are they that mourn; for they shall be comforted."—
¶Matt. v. 4
p. 223¶See that ye still to rightward keep the brink."So them the bard besought; and such the words,Beyond us some short space, in answer came.I noted what remain'd yet hidden from them: 7Thence to my liege's eyes mine eyes I bent,And he, forthwith interpreting their suit,Beckon'd his glad assent. Free then to actAs pleased me, I drew near, and took my standOver that shade whose words I late had mark'd.And, "Spirit!" I said, "in whom repentant tearsMature that blessed hour when thou with GodShalt find acceptance, for a while suspendFor me that mightier care. Say who thou wast;Why thus ye grovel on your bellies prone;And if, in aught, ye wish my service there,Whence living I am come." He answering spake:"The cause why Heaven our back towards his copeReverses, shalt thou know: but me know first,The successor of Peter, 8 and the nameAnd title of my lineage, from that stream*That 'twixt Chiaveri and Siestri drawsHis limpid waters through the lowly glen.A month and little more by proof I learnt,With what a weight that robe of sovereigntyUpon his shoulder rests, who from the mireWould guard it; that each other fardel seemsBut feathers in the balance. Late, alas!Was my conversion: but, when I becameRome's pastor, I discerned at once the dreamAnd cozenage of life; saw that the heartRested not there, and yet no prouder heightLured on the climber: whereof, of that lifeNo more enamor'd, in my bosom loveOf purer being kindled. For till then[224]I was a soul in misery, alienateFrom God, and covetous of all earthly things;Now, as thou seest, here punish'd for my doting.Such cleansing from the taint of avarice,Do spirits, converted, need. This mount inflictsNo direr penalty. E'en as our eyesFasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier climeWere lifted; thus hath justice level'd us,Here on the earth. As avarice quench'd our loveOf good, without which is no working; thusHere justice holds us prison'd, hand and footChain'd down and bound, while Heaven's just Lord shallplease,So long to tarry, motionless, outstretch'd."My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke; but he,Ere my beginning, by his ear perceivedI did him reverence; and "What cause," said he,"Hath bow'd thee thus?"—"Compunction," I rejoin'd,"And inward awe of your high dignity.""Up," he exclaim'd, "brother! upon thy feetArise; err not: thy fellow-servant I,(Thine and all others') of one Sovran Power.If thou hast ever mark'd those holy soundsOf gospel truth, 'nor shall be given in marriage,'Thou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.Go thy ways now; and linger here no more.Thy tarrying is a let unto the tears,With which I hasten that whereof thou spakest.I have on earth a kinswoman; 10 her nameAlagia, worthy in herself, so illExample of our house corrupt her not:And she is all remaineth of me there."