“Up,” he exclaim’d, “brother! upon thy feet
Arise: err not: thy fellow servant I,
(Thine and all others’) of one Sovran Power.
If thou hast ever mark’d those holy sounds
Of gospel truth, ‘nor shall be given ill 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 spak’st.
I have on earth a kinswoman; her name
Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill
Example of our house corrupt her not:
And she is all remaineth of me there.”
CANTO XX
Ill strives the will, ’gainst will more wise that strives
His pleasure therefore to mine own preferr’d,
I drew the sponge yet thirsty from the wave.
Onward I mov’d: he also onward mov’d,
Who led me, coasting still, wherever place
Along the rock was vacant, as a man
Walks near the battlements on narrow wall.
For those on th’ other part, who drop by drop
Wring out their all-infecting malady,
Too closely press the verge. Accurst be thou!
Inveterate wolf! whose gorge ingluts more prey,
Than every beast beside, yet is not fill’d!
So bottomless thy maw!—Ye spheres of heaven!
To whom there are, as seems, who attribute
All change in mortal state, when is the day
Of his appearing, for whom fate reserves
To chase her hence? —With wary steps and slow
We pass’d; and I attentive to the shades,
Whom piteously I heard lament and wail;
And, ’midst the wailing, one before us heard
Cry out “O blessed Virgin!” as a dame
In the sharp pangs of childbed; and “How poor
Thou wast,” it added, “witness that low roof
Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.
O good Fabricius! thou didst virtue choose
With poverty, before great wealth with vice.”
The words so pleas’d me, that desire to know
The spirit, from whose lip they seem’d to come,
Did draw me onward. Yet it spake the gift
Of Nicholas, which on the maidens he
Bounteous bestow’d, to save their youthful prime
Unblemish’d. “Spirit! who dost speak of deeds
So worthy, tell me who thou was,” I said,
“And why thou dost with single voice renew
Memorial of such praise. That boon vouchsaf’d
Haply shall meet reward; if I return
To finish the Short pilgrimage of life,
Still speeding to its close on restless wing.”
“I,” answer’d he, “will tell thee, not for hell,
Which thence I look for; but that in thyself
Grace so exceeding shines, before thy time
Of mortal dissolution. I was root
Of that ill plant, whose shade such poison sheds
O’er all the Christian land, that seldom thence
Good fruit is gather’d. Vengeance soon should come,
Had Ghent and Douay, Lille and Bruges power;
And vengeance I of heav’n’s great Judge implore.
Hugh Capet was I high: from me descend
The Philips and the Louis, of whom France
Newly is govern’d; born of one, who ply’d
The slaughterer’s trade at Paris. When the race
Of ancient kings had vanish’d (all save one
Wrapt up in sable weeds) within my gripe
I found the reins of empire, and such powers
Of new acquirement, with full store of friends,
That soon the widow’d circlet of the crown
Was girt upon the temples of my son,
He, from whose bones th’ anointed race begins.
Till the great dower of Provence had remov’d
The stains, that yet obscur’d our lowly blood,
Its sway indeed was narrow, but howe’er
It wrought no evil: there, with force and lies,
Began its rapine; after, for amends,
Poitou it seiz’d, Navarre and Gascony.
To Italy came Charles, and for amends
Young Conradine an innocent victim slew,
And sent th’ angelic teacher back to heav’n,
Still for amends. I see the time at hand,
That forth from France invites another Charles
To make himself and kindred better known.
Unarm’d he issues, saving with that lance,
Which the arch-traitor tilted with; and that
He carries with so home a thrust, as rives
The bowels of poor Florence. No increase
Of territory hence, but sin and shame
Shall be his guerdon, and so much the more
As he more lightly deems of such foul wrong.
I see the other, who a prisoner late
Had steps on shore, exposing to the mart
His daughter, whom he bargains for, as do
The Corsairs for their slaves. O avarice!
What canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood
So wholly to thyself, they feel no care
Of their own flesh? To hide with direr guilt
Past ill and future, lo! the flower-de-luce
Enters Alagna! in his Vicar Christ
Himself a captive, and his mockery
Acted again! Lo! lo his holy lip
The vinegar and gall once more applied!
And he ’twixt living robbers doom’d to bleed!
Lo! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty
Such violence cannot fill the measure up,
With no degree to sanction, pushes on
Into the temple his yet eager sails!
“O sovran Master! when shall I rejoice
To see the vengeance, which thy wrath well-pleas’d
In secret silence broods?—While daylight lasts,
So long what thou didst hear of her, sole spouse
Of the Great Spirit, and on which thou turn’dst
To me for comment, is the general theme
Of all our prayers: but when it darkens, then
A different strain we utter, then record
Pygmalion, whom his gluttonous thirst of gold
Made traitor, robber, parricide: the woes
Of Midas, which his greedy wish ensued,
Mark’d for derision to all future times:
And the fond Achan, how he stole the prey,
That yet he seems by Joshua’s ire pursued.
Sapphira with her husband next, we blame;
And praise the forefeet, that with furious ramp
Spurn’d Heliodorus. All the mountain round
Rings with the infamy of Thracia’s king,
Who slew his Phrygian charge: and last a shout
Ascends: “Declare, O Crassus! for thou know’st,
The flavour of thy gold.” The voice of each
Now high now low, as each his impulse prompts,
Is led through many a pitch, acute or grave.
Therefore, not singly, I erewhile rehears’d
That blessedness we tell of in the day:
But near me none beside his accent rais’d.”
From him we now had parted, and essay’d
With utmost efforts to surmount the way,
When I did feel, as nodding to its fall,
The mountain tremble; whence an icy chill
Seiz’d on me, as on one to death convey’d.
So shook not Delos, when Latona there
Couch’d to bring forth the twin-born eyes of heaven.
Forthwith from every side a shout arose
So vehement, that suddenly my guide
Drew near, and cried: “Doubt not, while I conduct thee.”
“Glory!” all shouted (such the sounds mine ear
Gather’d from those, who near me swell’d the sounds)
“Glory in the highest be to God.” We stood
Immovably suspended, like to those,
The shepherds, who first heard in Bethlehem’s field
That song: till ceas’d the trembling, and the song
Was ended: then our hallow’d path resum’d,
Eying the prostrate shadows, who renew’d
Their custom’d mourning. Never in my breast
Did ignorance so struggle with desire
Of knowledge, if my memory do not err,
As in that moment; nor through haste dar’d I
To question, nor myself could aught discern,
So on I far’d in thoughtfulness and dread.
CANTO XXI
The natural thirst, ne’er quench’d but from the well,
Whereof the woman of Samaria crav’d,
Excited: haste along the cumber’d path,
After my guide, impell’d; and pity mov’d
My bosom for the ’vengeful deed, though just.
When lo! even as Luke relates, that Christ
Appear’d unto the two upon their way,
New-risen from his vaulted grave; to us
A shade appear’d, and after us approach’d,
Contemplating the crowd beneath its feet.
We were not ware of it; so first it spake,
Saying, “God give you peace, my brethren!” then
Sudden we turn’d: and Virgil such salute,
As fitted that kind greeting, gave, and cried:
“Peace in the blessed council be thy lot
Awarded by that righteous court, which me
To everlasting banishment exiles!”
“How!” he exclaim’d, nor from his speed meanwhile
Desisting, “If that ye be spirits, whom God
Vouchsafes not room above, who up the height
Has been thus far your guide?” To whom the bard:
“If thou observe the tokens, which this man
Trac’d by the finger of the angel bears,
’Tis plain that in the kingdom of the just
He needs must share. But sithence she, whose wheel
Spins day and night, for him not yet had drawn
That yarn, which, on the fatal distaff pil’d,
Clotho apportions to each wight that breathes,
His soul, that sister is to mine and thine,
Not of herself could mount, for not like ours
Her ken: whence I, from forth the ample gulf
Of hell was ta’en, to lead him, and will lead
Far as my lore avails. But, if thou know,
Instruct us for what cause, the mount erewhile
Thus shook and trembled: wherefore all at once
Seem’d shouting, even from his wave-wash’d foot.”
That questioning so tallied with my wish,
The thirst did feel abatement of its edge
E’en from expectance. He forthwith replied,
“In its devotion nought irregular
This mount can witness, or by punctual rule
Unsanction’d; here from every change exempt.
Other than that, which heaven in itself
Doth of itself receive, no influence
Can reach us. Tempest none, shower, hail or snow,
Hoar frost or dewy moistness, higher falls
Than that brief scale of threefold steps: thick clouds
Nor scudding rack are ever seen: swift glance
Ne’er lightens, nor Thaumantian Iris gleams,
That yonder often shift on each side heav’n.
Vapour adust doth never mount above
The highest of the trinal stairs, whereon
Peter’s vicegerent stands. Lower perchance,
With various motion rock’d, trembles the soil:
But here, through wind in earth’s deep hollow pent,
I know not how, yet never trembled: then
Trembles, when any spirit feels itself
So purified, that it may rise, or move
For rising, and such loud acclaim ensues.
Purification by the will alone
Is prov’d, that free to change society
Seizes the soul rejoicing in her will.
Desire of bliss is present from the first;
But strong propension hinders, to that wish
By the just ordinance of heav’n oppos’d;
Propension now as eager to fulfil
Th’ allotted torment, as erewhile to sin.
And I who in this punishment had lain
Five hundred years and more, but now have felt
Free wish for happier clime. Therefore thou felt’st
The mountain tremble, and the spirits devout
Heard’st, over all his limits, utter praise
To that liege Lord, whom I entreat their joy
To hasten.” Thus he spake: and since the draught
Is grateful ever as the thirst is keen,
No words may speak my fullness of content.
“Now,” said the instructor sage, “I see the net
That takes ye here, and how the toils are loos’d,
Why rocks the mountain and why ye rejoice.
Vouchsafe, that from thy lips I next may learn,
Who on the earth thou wast, and wherefore here
So many an age wert prostrate.”—“In that time,
When the good Titus, with Heav’n’s King to help,
Aveng’d those piteous gashes, whence the blood
By Judas sold did issue, with the name
Most lasting and most honour’d there was I
Abundantly renown’d,” the shade reply’d,
“Not yet with faith endued. So passing sweet
My vocal Spirit, from Tolosa, Rome
To herself drew me, where I merited
A myrtle garland to inwreathe my brow.
Statius they name me still. Of Thebes I sang,
And next of great Achilles: but i’ th’ way
Fell with the second burthen. Of my flame
Those sparkles were the seeds, which I deriv’d
From the bright fountain of celestial fire
That feeds unnumber’d lamps, the song I mean
Which sounds Aeneas’ wand’rings: that the breast
I hung at, that the nurse, from whom my veins
Drank inspiration: whose authority
Was ever sacred with me. To have liv’d
Coeval with the Mantuan, I would bide
The revolution of another sun
Beyond my stated years in banishment.”
The Mantuan, when he heard him, turn’d to me,
And holding silence: by his countenance
Enjoin’d me silence but the power which wills,
Bears not supreme control: laughter and tears
Follow so closely on the passion prompts them,
They wait not for the motions of the will
In natures most sincere. I did but smile,
As one who winks; and thereupon the shade
Broke off, and peer’d into mine eyes, where best
Our looks interpret. “So to good event
Mayst thou conduct such great emprize,” he cried,
“Say, why across thy visage beam’d, but now,
The lightning of a smile!” On either part
Now am I straiten’d; one conjures me speak,
Th’ other to silence binds me: whence a sigh
I utter, and the sigh is heard. “Speak on;”
The teacher cried; “and do not fear to speak,
But tell him what so earnestly he asks.”
Whereon I thus: “Perchance, O ancient spirit!
Thou marvel’st at my smiling. There is room
For yet more wonder. He who guides my ken
On high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom
Thou didst presume of men and gods to sing.
If other cause thou deem’dst for which I smil’d,
Leave it as not the true one; and believe
Those words, thou spak’st of him, indeed the cause.”
Now down he bent t’ embrace my teacher’s feet;
But he forbade him: “Brother! do it not:
Thou art a shadow, and behold’st a shade.”
He rising answer’d thus: “Now hast thou prov’d
The force and ardour of the love I bear thee,
When I forget we are but things of air,
And as a substance treat an empty shade.”
CANTO XXII
Now we had left the angel, who had turn’d
To the sixth circle our ascending step,
One gash from off my forehead raz’d: while they,
Whose wishes tend to justice, shouted forth:
“Blessed!” and ended with, “I thirst:” and I,
More nimble than along the other straits,
So journey’d, that, without the sense of toil,
I follow’d upward the swift-footed shades;
When Virgil thus began: “Let its pure flame
From virtue flow, and love can never fail
To warm another’s bosom’ so the light
Shine manifestly forth. Hence from that hour,
When ’mongst us in the purlieus of the deep,
Came down the spirit of Aquinum’s hard,
Who told of thine affection, my good will
Hath been for thee of quality as strong
As ever link’d itself to one not seen.
Therefore these stairs will now seem short to me.
But tell me: and if too secure I loose
The rein with a friend’s license, as a friend
Forgive me, and speak now as with a friend:
How chanc’d it covetous desire could find
Place in that bosom, ’midst such ample store
Of wisdom, as thy zeal had treasur’d there?”
First somewhat mov’d to laughter by his words,
Statius replied: “Each syllable of thine
Is a dear pledge of love. Things oft appear
That minister false matters to our doubts,
When their true causes are remov’d from sight.
Thy question doth assure me, thou believ’st
I was on earth a covetous man, perhaps
Because thou found’st me in that circle plac’d.
Know then I was too wide of avarice:
And e’en for that excess, thousands of moons
Have wax’d and wan’d upon my sufferings.
And were it not that I with heedful care
Noted where thou exclaim’st as if in ire
With human nature, ‘Why, thou cursed thirst
Of gold! dost not with juster measure guide
The appetite of mortals?’ I had met
The fierce encounter of the voluble rock.
Then was I ware that with too ample wing
The hands may haste to lavishment, and turn’d,
As from my other evil, so from this
In penitence. How many from their grave
Shall with shorn locks arise, who living, aye
And at life’s last extreme, of this offence,
Through ignorance, did not repent. And know,
The fault which lies direct from any sin
In level opposition, here With that
Wastes its green rankness on one common heap.
Therefore if I have been with those, who wail
Their avarice, to cleanse me, through reverse
Of their transgression, such hath been my lot.”
To whom the sovran of the pastoral song:
“While thou didst sing that cruel warfare wag’d
By the twin sorrow of Jocasta’s womb,
From thy discourse with Clio there, it seems
As faith had not been shine: without the which
Good deeds suffice not. And if so, what sun
Rose on thee, or what candle pierc’d the dark
That thou didst after see to hoist the sail,
And follow, where the fisherman had led?”
He answering thus: “By thee conducted first,
I enter’d the Parnassian grots, and quaff’d
Of the clear spring; illumin’d first by thee
Open’d mine eyes to God. Thou didst, as one,
Who, journeying through the darkness, hears a light
Behind, that profits not himself, but makes
His followers wise, when thou exclaimedst, ‘Lo!
A renovated world! Justice return’d!
Times of primeval innocence restor’d!
And a new race descended from above!’
Poet and Christian both to thee I owed.
That thou mayst mark more clearly what I trace,
My hand shall stretch forth to inform the lines
With livelier colouring. Soon o’er all the world,
By messengers from heav’n, the true belief
Teem’d now prolific, and that word of thine
Accordant, to the new instructors chim’d.
Induc’d by which agreement, I was wont
Resort to them; and soon their sanctity
So won upon me, that, Domitian’s rage
Pursuing them, I mix’d my tears with theirs,
And, while on earth I stay’d, still succour’d them;
And their most righteous customs made me scorn
All sects besides. Before I led the Greeks
In tuneful fiction, to the streams of Thebes,
I was baptiz’d; but secretly, through fear,
Remain’d a Christian, and conform’d long time
To Pagan rites. Five centuries and more,
T for that lukewarmness was fain to pace
Round the fourth circle. Thou then, who hast rais’d
The covering, which did hide such blessing from me,
Whilst much of this ascent is yet to climb,
Say, if thou know, where our old Terence bides,
Caecilius, Plautus, Varro: if condemn’d
They dwell, and in what province of the deep.”
“These,” said my guide, “with Persius and myself,
And others many more, are with that Greek,
Of mortals, the most cherish’d by the Nine,
In the first ward of darkness. There ofttimes
We of that mount hold converse, on whose top
For aye our nurses live. We have the bard
Of Pella, and the Teian, Agatho,
Simonides, and many a Grecian else
Ingarlanded with laurel. Of thy train
Antigone is there, Deiphile,
Argia, and as sorrowful as erst
Ismene, and who show’d Langia’s wave:
Deidamia with her sisters there,
And blind Tiresias’ daughter, and the bride
Sea-born of Peleus.” Either poet now
Was silent, and no longer by th’ ascent
Or the steep walls obstructed, round them cast
Inquiring eyes. Four handmaids of the day
Had finish’d now their office, and the fifth
Was at the chariot-beam, directing still
Its balmy point aloof, when thus my guide:
“Methinks, it well behooves us to the brink
Bend the right shoulder’ circuiting the mount,
As we have ever us’d.” So custom there
Was usher to the road, the which we chose
Less doubtful, as that worthy shade complied.
They on before me went; I sole pursued,
List’ning their speech, that to my thoughts convey’d
Mysterious lessons of sweet poesy.
But soon they ceas’d; for midway of the road
A tree we found, with goodly fruitage hung,
And pleasant to the smell: and as a fir
Upward from bough to bough less ample spreads,
So downward this less ample spread, that none.
Methinks, aloft may climb. Upon the side,
That clos’d our path, a liquid crystal fell
From the steep rock, and through the sprays above
Stream’d showering. With associate step the bards
Drew near the plant; and from amidst the leaves
A voice was heard: “Ye shall be chary of me;”
And after added: “Mary took more thought
For joy and honour of the nuptial feast,
Than for herself who answers now for you.
The women of old Rome were satisfied
With water for their beverage. Daniel fed
On pulse, and wisdom gain’d. The primal age
Was beautiful as gold; and hunger then
Made acorns tasteful, thirst each rivulet
Run nectar. Honey and locusts were the food,
Whereon the Baptist in the wilderness
Fed, and that eminence of glory reach’d
And greatness, which the’ Evangelist records.”