Purgatory

by Dante Alighieri

  Who had me near him on that part where lies

  Whose mighty worth mov’d Gregory to earn

  The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn’d

  His mighty conquest, Trajan th’ Emperor.

  And mark’d, behind the virgin mother’s form,

  A widow at his bridle stood, attir’d

  Upon that side, where he, that mov’d me, stood,

  In tears and mourning. Round about them troop’d

  Another story graven on the rock.

  Full throng of knights, and overhead in gold

  I passed athwart the bard, and drew me near,

  The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.

  That it might stand more aptly for my view.

  The wretch appear’d amid all these to say:

  There in the self-same marble were engrav’d

  “Grant vengeance, sire! for, woe beshrew this heart The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,

  My son is murder’d.” He replying seem’d;

  That from unbidden office awes mankind.

  “Wait now till I return.” And she, as one

  Before it came much people; and the whole

  Made hasty by her grief; “O sire, if thou

  Parted in seven quires. One sense cried, “Nay,”

  Dost not return?”—”Where I am, who then is,

  Another, “Yes, they sing.” Like doubt arose

  May right thee.”—” What to thee is other’s good,

  Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl’d fume

  If thou neglect thy own?”—”Now comfort thee,”

  Of incense breathing up the well-wrought toil.

  At length he answers. “It beseemeth well

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory My duty be perform’d, ere I move hence:

  What underneath those stones approacheth: now,

  So justice wills; and pity bids me stay.”

  E’en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each.”

  He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produc’d

  Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!

  That visible speaking, new to us and strange

  That feeble in the mind’s eye, lean your trust

  The like not found on earth. Fondly I gaz’d

  Upon unstaid perverseness! Know ye not

  Upon those patterns of meek humbleness,

  That we are worms, yet made at last to form

  Shapes yet more precious for their artist’s sake,

  The winged insect, imp’d with angel plumes

  When “Lo,” the poet whisper’d, “where this way

  That to heaven’s justice unobstructed soars?

  (But slack their pace), a multitude advance.

  Why buoy ye up aloft your unfleg’d souls?

  These to the lofty steps shall guide us on.”

  Abortive then and shapeless ye remain,

  Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights Like the untimely embryon of a worm!

  Their lov’d allurement, were not slow to turn.

  As, to support incumbent floor or roof,

  Reader! I would not that amaz’d thou miss

  For corbel is a figure sometimes seen,

  Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God

  That crumples up its knees unto its breast,

  Decrees our debts be cancel’d. Ponder not

  With the feign’d posture stirring ruth unfeign’d

  The form of suff’ring. Think on what succeeds,

  In the beholder’s fancy; so I saw

  Think that at worst beyond the mighty doom

  These fashion’d, when I noted well their guise.

  It cannot pass. “Instructor,” I began,

  Each, as his back was laden, came indeed

  “What I see hither tending, bears no trace

  Or more or less contract; but it appear’d

  Of human semblance, nor of aught beside

  As he, who show’d most patience in his look,

  That my foil’d sight can guess.” He answering thus: Wailing exclaim’d: “I can endure no more.”

  “So courb’d to earth, beneath their heavy teems

  Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first

  CANTO XI

  Struggled as thine. But look intently thither,

  O thou Almighty Father, who dost make

  An disentangle with thy lab’ring view,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory The heavens thy dwelling, not in bounds confin’d,

  Not for ourselves, since that were needless now,

  But that with love intenser there thou view’st

  But for their sakes who after us remain.”

  Thy primal effluence, hallow’d be thy name:

  Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring, Join each created being to extol

  Those spirits went beneath a weight like that

  Thy might, for worthy humblest thanks and praise

  We sometimes feel in dreams, all, sore beset,

  Is thy blest Spirit. May thy kingdom’s peace

  But with unequal anguish, wearied all,

  Come unto us; for we, unless it come,

  Round the first circuit, purging as they go,

  With all our striving thither tend in vain.

  The world’s gross darkness off: In our behalf

  As of their will the angels unto thee

  If there vows still be offer’d, what can here

  Tender meet sacrifice, circling thy throne

  For them be vow’d and done by such, whose wills

  With loud hosannas, so of theirs be done

  Have root of goodness in them? Well beseems

  By saintly men on earth. Grant us this day

  That we should help them wash away the stains

  Our daily manna, without which he roams

  They carried hence, that so made pure and light,

  Through this rough desert retrograde, who most

  They may spring upward to the starry spheres.

  Toils to advance his steps. As we to each

  “Ah! so may mercy-temper’d justice rid

  Pardon the evil done us, pardon thou

  Your burdens speedily, that ye have power

  Benign, and of our merit take no count.

  To stretch your wing, which e’en to your desire

  ‘Gainst the old adversary prove thou not

  Shall lift you, as ye show us on which hand

  Our virtue easily subdu’d; but free

  Toward the ladder leads the shortest way.

  From his incitements and defeat his wiles.

  And if there be more passages than one,

  This last petition, dearest Lord! is made

  Instruct us of that easiest to ascend;

  For this man who comes with me, and bears yet

  The charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,

  Despite his better will but slowly mounts.”

  From whom the answer came unto these words,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Which my guide spake, appear’d not; but ’twas said

  List’ning I bent my visage down: and one

  “Along the bank to rightward come with us,

  (Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight

  And ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil

  That urg’d him, saw me, knew me straight, and

  Of living man to climb: and were it not

  call’d,

  That I am hinder’d by the rock, wherewith

  Holding his eyes With difficulty fix’d

  This arrogant neck is tam’d, whence needs I stoop

  Intent upon me, stooping as I went

  My visage to the ground, him, who yet lives,

  Companion of their way. “O!” I exclaim’d,

  Whose name thou speak’st not him I fain would view.

  “Art thou not Oderigi, art not tho
u

  To mark if e’er I knew him? and to crave

  Agobbio’s glory, glory of that art

  His pity for the fardel that I bear.

  Which they of Paris call the limmer’s skill?”

  I was of Latiun, of a Tuscan horn

  “Brother!” said he, “with tints that gayer smile, A mighty one: Aldobranlesco’s name

  Bolognian Franco’s pencil lines the leaves.

  My sire’s, I know not if ye e’er have heard.

  His all the honour now; mine borrow’d light.

  My old blood and forefathers’ gallant deeds

  In truth I had not been thus courteous to him,

  Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot

  The whilst I liv’d, through eagerness of zeal

  The common mother, and to such excess,

  For that pre-eminence my heart was bent on.

  Wax’d in my scorn of all men, that I fell,

  Here of such pride the forfeiture is paid.

  Fell therefore; by what fate Sienna’s sons,

  Nor were I even here; if, able still

  Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.

  To sin, I had not turn’d me unto God.

  I am Omberto; not me only pride

  O powers of man! how vain your glory, nipp’d

  Hath injur’d, but my kindred all involv’d

  E’en in its height of verdure, if an age

  In mischief with her. Here my lot ordains

  Less bright succeed not! Cimabue thought

  Under this weight to groan, till I appease

  To lord it over painting’s field; and now

  God’s angry justice, since I did it not

  The cry is Giotto’s, and his name eclips’d.

  Amongst the living, here amongst the dead.”

  Thus hath one Guido from the other snatch’d

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory The letter’d prize: and he perhaps is born,

  “Is Provenzano. He is here, because

  Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise

  He reach’d, with grasp presumptuous, at the sway

  Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,

  Of all Sienna. Thus he still hath gone,

  That blows from divers points, and shifts its name

  Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.

  Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more

  Such is th’ acquittance render’d back of him,

  Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh

  Who, beyond measure, dar’d on earth.” I then:

  Part shrivel’d from thee, than if thou hadst died,

  “If soul that to the verge of life delays

  Before the coral and the pap were left,

  Repentance, linger in that lower space,

  Or ere some thousand years have passed? and that

  Nor hither mount, unless good prayers befriend,

  Is, to eternity compar’d, a space,

  How chanc’d admittance was vouchsaf’d to him?”

  Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye

  “When at his glory’s topmost height,” said he, To the heaven’s slowest orb. He there who treads

  “Respect of dignity all cast aside,

  So leisurely before me, far and wide

  Freely He fix’d him on Sienna’s plain,

  Through Tuscany resounded once; and now

  A suitor to redeem his suff’ring friend,

  Is in Sienna scarce with whispers nam’d:

  Who languish’d in the prison-house of Charles,

  There was he sov’reign, when destruction caught

  Nor for his sake refus’d through every vein

  The madd’ning rage of Florence, in that day

  To tremble. More I will not say; and dark,

  Proud as she now is loathsome. Your renown

  I know, my words are, but thy neighbours soon

  Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go,

  Shall help thee to a comment on the text.

  And his might withers it, by whom it sprang

  This is the work, that from these limits freed him.”

  Crude from the lap of earth.” I thus to him:

  “True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe

  CANTO XII

  The kindly spirit of meekness, and allay

  With equal pace as oxen in the yoke,

  What tumours rankle there. But who is he

  I with that laden spirit journey’d on

  Of whom thou spak’st but now?”—”This,” he replied,

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory Long as the mild instructor suffer’d me;

  With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,

  But when he bade me quit him, and proceed

  Arm’d still, and gazing on the giant’s limbs

  (For “here,” said he, “behooves with sail and oars

  Strewn o’er th’ ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:

  Each man, as best he may, push on his bark”),

  At foot of the stupendous work he stood,

  Upright, as one dispos’d for speed, I rais’d

  As if bewilder’d, looking on the crowd

  My body, still in thought submissive bow’d.

  Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar’s plain.

  I now my leader’s track not loth pursued;

  O Niobe! in what a trance of woe

  And each had shown how light we far’d along

  Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,

  When thus he warn’d me: “Bend thine eyesight

  Sev’n sons on either side thee slain! O Saul!

  down:

  How ghastly didst thou look! on thine own sword

  For thou to ease the way shall find it good

  Expiring in Gilboa, from that hour

  To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet.”

  Ne’er visited with rain from heav’n or dew!

  As in memorial of the buried, drawn

  O fond Arachne! thee I also saw

  Upon earth-level tombs, the sculptur’d form

  Half spider now in anguish crawling up

  Of what was once, appears (at sight whereof

  Th’ unfinish’d web thou weaved’st to thy bane!

  Tears often stream forth by remembrance wak’d,

  O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem

  Whose sacred stings the piteous only feel),

  Louring no more defiance! but fear-smote

  So saw I there, but with more curious skill

  With none to chase him in his chariot whirl’d.

  Of portraiture o’erwrought, whate’er of space

  Was shown beside upon the solid floor

  From forth the mountain stretches. On one part

  How dear Alcmaeon forc’d his mother rate

  Him I beheld, above all creatures erst

  That ornament in evil hour receiv’d:

  Created noblest, light’ning fall from heaven:

  How in the temple on Sennacherib fell

  On th’ other side with bolt celestial pierc’d

  His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.

  Briareus: cumb’ring earth he lay through dint

  Was shown the scath and cruel mangling made

  Of mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbraean god

  By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried:

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory

  “Blood thou didst thirst for, take thy fill of blood!”

  That gladly he may forward us aloft.

  Was shown how routed in the battle fled

  Consider that this day ne’er dawns again.”

  Th’ Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e’en

  Time’s loss he had so often warn’d me ‘gainst, The relics of the carnage. Troy I mark’d

  I could not miss the scope at which he aim’d.

  In ashes and in caverns
. Oh! how fall’n,

  The goodly shape approach’d us, snowy white

  How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there!

  In vesture, and with visage casting streams

  What master of the pencil or the style

  Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.

  Had trac’d the shades and lines, that might have made His arms he open’d, then his wings; and spake:

  The subtlest workman wonder? Dead the dead,

  “Onward: the steps, behold! are near; and now

  The living seem’d alive; with clearer view

  Th’ ascent is without difficulty gain’d.”

  His eye beheld not who beheld the truth,

  A scanty few are they, who when they hear

  Than mine what I did tread on, while I went

  Such tidings, hasten. O ye race of men

  Low bending. Now swell out; and with stiff necks

  Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind

  Pass on, ye sons of Eve! veil not your looks,

  So slight to baffle ye? He led us on

  Lest they descry the evil of your path!

  Where the rock parted; here against my front

  I noted not (so busied was my thought)

  Did beat his wings, then promis’d I should fare

  How much we now had circled of the mount,

  In safety on my way. As to ascend

  And of his course yet more the sun had spent,

  That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands

  When he, who with still wakeful caution went,

  (O’er Rubaconte, looking lordly down

  Admonish’d: “Raise thou up thy head: for know

  On the well-guided city,) up the right

  Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold

  Th’ impetuous rise is broken by the steps

  That way an angel hasting towards us! Lo

  Carv’d in that old and simple age, when still

  Where duly the sixth handmaid doth return

  The registry and label rested safe;

  From service on the day. Wear thou in look

  Thus is th’ acclivity reliev’d, which here

  And gesture seemly grace of reverent awe,

  Precipitous from the other circuit falls:

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  The Divine Comedy of Dante - Purgatory But on each hand the tall cliff presses close.

  Six only of the letters, which his sword

  As ent’ring there we turn’d, voices, in strain Who bare the keys had trac’d upon my brow.

  Ineffable, sang: “Blessed are the poor

  The leader, as he mark’d mine action, smil’d.

  In spirit.” Ah how far unlike to these

  The straits of hell; here songs to usher us,

  CANTO XIII

  There shrieks of woe! We climb the holy stairs: