Father and father-in-law of France’s Pest
Are they, and know his vicious life and lewd,And hence proceeds the grief that so doth pierce them.
He who appears so stalwart, and chimes in,Singing, with that one of the manly nose,The cord of every valour wore begirt;
And if as King had after him remainedThe stripling who in rear of him is sitting,Well had the valour passed from vase to vase,
Which cannot of the other heirs be said.Frederick and Jacomo possess the realms,But none the better heritage possesses.
Not oftentimes upriseth through the branchesThe probity of man; and this He willsWho gives it, so that we may ask of Him.
Eke to the large-nosed reach my words, no lessThan to the other, Pier, who with him sings;Whence Provence and Apulia grieve already
The plant is as inferior to its seed,As more than Beatrice and MargaretCostanza boasteth of her husband still.
Behold the monarch of the simple life,Harry of England, sitting there alone;He in his branches has a better issue.
He who the lowest on the ground among themSits looking upward, is the Marquis William,For whose sake Alessandria and her war
Make Monferrat and Canavese weep.”
Purgatorio: Canto VIII
’Twas now the hour that turneth back desireIn those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,The day they’ve said to their sweet friends farewell,
And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,If he doth hear from far away a bellThat seemeth to deplore the dying day,
When I began to make of no availMy hearing, and to watch one of the soulsUprisen, that begged attention with its hand.
It joined and lifted upward both its palms,Fixing its eyes upon the orient,As if it said to God, “Naught else I care for.”
“Te lucis ante” so devoutly issuedForth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,It made me issue forth from my own mind.
And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.
Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,For now indeed so subtile is the veil,Surely to penetrate within is easy.
I saw that army of the gentle-bornThereafterward in silence upward gaze,As if in expectation, pale and humble;
And from on high come forth and down descend,I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,Truncated and deprived of their points.
Green as the little leaflets just now bornTheir garments were, which, by their verdant pinionsBeaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.
One just above us came to take his station,And one descended to the opposite bank,So that the people were contained between them.
Clearly in them discerned I the blond head;But in their faces was the eye bewildered,As faculty confounded by excess.
“From Mary’s bosom both of them have come,”Sordello said, “as guardians of the valleyAgainst the serpent, that will come anon.”
Whereupon I, who knew not by what road,Turned round about, and closely drew myself,Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.
And once again Sordello: “Now descend we’Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them;Right pleasant will it be for them to see you.”
Only three steps I think that I descended,And was below, and saw one who was lookingOnly at me, as if he fain would know me.
Already now the air was growing dark,But not so that between his eyes and mineIt did not show what it before locked up.
Tow’rds me he moved, and I tow’rds him did move;Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted,When I beheld thee not among the damned!
No greeting fair was left unsaid between us;Then asked he: “How long is it since thou camestO’er the far waters to the mountain’s foot?”
“Oh!” said I to him, “through the dismal placesI came this morn; and am in the first life,Albeit the other, going thus, I gain.”
And on the instant my reply was heard,He and Sordello both shrank back from me,Like people who are suddenly bewildered.
One to Virgilius, and the other turnedTo one who sat there, crying, “Up, Currado!Come and behold what God in grace has willed!”
Then, turned to me: “By that especial graceThou owest unto Him, who so concealsHis own first wherefore, that it has no ford,
When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide,Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me,Where answer to the innocent is made.
I do not think her mother loves me more,Since she has laid aside her wimple white,Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.
Through her full easily is comprehendedHow long in woman lasts the fire of love,If eye or touch do not relight it often.
So fair a hatchment will not make for herThe Viper marshalling the MilaneseA-field, as would have made Gallura’s Cock.”
In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressedUpon his aspect of that righteous zealWhich measurably burneth in the heart.
My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven,Still to that point where slowest are the stars,Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.
And my Conductor: “Son, what dost thou gaze atUp there?” And I to him: “At those three torchesWith which this hither pole is all on fire.”
And he to me: “The four resplendent starsThou sawest this morning are down yonder low,And these have mounted up to where those were.”
As he was speaking, to himself SordelloDrew him, and said, “Lo there our Adversary!”And pointed with his finger to look thither.
Upon the side on which the little valleyNo barrier hath, a serpent was; perchanceThe same which gave to Eve the bitter food.
’Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak,Turning at times its head about, and lickingIts back like to a beast that smoothes itself.
I did not see, and therefore cannot sayHow the celestial falcons ’gan to move,But well I saw that they were both in motion.
Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings,The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled,Up to their stations flying back alike.
The shade that to the Judge had near approachedWhen he had called, throughout that whole assaultHad not a moment loosed its gaze on me.
“So may the light that leadeth thee on highFind in thine own free-will as much of waxAs needful is up to the highest azure,”
Began it, “if some true intelligenceOf Valdimagra or its neighbourhoodThou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.
Currado Malaspina was I called;I’m not the elder, but from him descended;To mine I bore the love which here refineth.”
“O,” said I unto him, “through your domainsI never passed, but where is there a dwellingThroughout all Europe, where they are not known?
That fame, which doeth honour to your house,Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land,So that he knows of them who ne’er was there.
And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to youYour honoured family in naught abatesThe glory of the purse and of the sword.
It is so privileged by use and nature,That though a guilty head misguide the world,Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way.”
And he: “Now go; for the sun shall not lieSeven times upon the pillow which the RamWith all his four feet covers and bestrides,
Before that such a courteous opinionShall in the middle of thy head be nailedWith greater nails than of another’s speech,
Unless the course of justice standeth still.”
Purgatorio: Canto IX
The concubine of old Tithonus nowGleamed white upon the eastern balcony,Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour;
With gems her forehead all relucent was,Set in the shape of that cold animalWhich with its tail doth smite amain the nations,
And of the steps, with which she mounts, the NightHad taken two in that place where we were,And now the third was bending down its wings;
When I, who something had of Adam in me,Vanquished by sleep, upon the grass reclined,There were all five of us already sat.
Just at the hour when her sad lay beginsThe little swallow, near unto the morning,Perchance in memory of her former woes,
And when the mind of man, a wandererMore from the flesh, and less by thought imprisoned,Almost prophetic in its visions is,
In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspendedAn eagle in the sky, with plumes of gold,With wings wide open, and intent to stoop,
And this, it seemed to me, was where had beenBy Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned,When to the high consistory he was rapt.
I thought within myself, perchance he strikesFrom habit only here, and from elsewhereDisdains to bear up any in his feet.
Then wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me,Terrible as the lightning he descended,And snatched me upward even to the fire.
Therein it seemed that he and I were burning,And the imagined fire did scorch me so,That of necessity my sleep was broken.
Not otherwise Achilles started up,Around him turning his awakened eyes,And knowing not the place in which he was,
What time from Chiron stealthily his motherCarried him sleeping in her arms to Scyros,Wherefrom the Greeks withdrew him afterwards,
Than I upstarted, when from off my faceSleep fled away; and pallid I became,As doth the man who freezes with affright.
Only my Comforter was at my side,And now the sun was more than two hours high,And turned towards the sea-shore was my face.
“Be not intimidated,” said my Lord,“Be reassured, for all is well with us;Do not restrain, but put forth all thy strength.
Thou hast at length arrived at Purgatory;See there the cliff that closes it around;See there the entrance, where it seems disjoined.
Whilom at dawn, which doth precede the day,When inwardly thy spirit was asleepUpon the flowers that deck the land below,
There came a Lady and said: ‘I am Lucia;Let me take this one up, who is asleep;So will I make his journey easier for him.’
Sordello and the other noble shapesRemained; she took thee, and, as day grew bright,Upward she came, and I upon her footsteps.
She laid thee here; and first her beauteous eyesThat open entrance pointed out to me;Then she and sleep together went away.”
In guise of one whose doubts are reassured,And who to confidence his fear doth change,After the truth has been discovered to him,
So did I change; and when without disquietMy Leader saw me, up along the cliffHe moved, and I behind him, tow’rd the height.
Reader, thou seest well how I exaltMy theme, and therefore if with greater artI fortify it, marvel not thereat.
Nearer approached we, and were in such place,That there, where first appeared to me a riftLike to a crevice that disparts a wall,
I saw a portal, and three stairs beneath,Diverse in colour, to go up to it,And a gate-keeper, who yet spake no word.
And as I opened more and more mine eyes,I saw him seated on the highest stair,Such in the face that I endured it not.
And in his hand he had a naked sword,Which so reflected back the sunbeams tow’rds us,That oft in vain I lifted up mine eyes.
“Tell it from where you are, what is’t you wish?”Began he to exclaim; “where is the escort?Take heed your coming hither harm you not!”
“A Lady of Heaven, with these things conversant,”My Master answered him, “but even nowSaid to us, ‘Thither go; there is the portal.’”
“And may she speed your footsteps in all good,”Again began the courteous janitor;“Come forward then unto these stairs of ours.”
Thither did we approach; and the first stairWas marble white, so polished and so smooth,I mirrored myself therein as I appear.
The second, tinct of deeper hue than perse,Was of a calcined and uneven stone,Cracked all asunder lengthwise and across.
The third, that uppermost rests massively,Porphyry seemed to me, as flaming redAs blood that from a vein is spirting forth.
Both of his feet was holding upon thisThe Angel of God, upon the threshold seated,Which seemed to me a stone of diamond.
Along the three stairs upward with good willDid my Conductor draw me, saying: “AskHumbly that he the fastening may undo.”
Devoutly at the holy feet I cast me,For mercy’s sake besought that he would open,But first upon my breast three times I smote.
Seven P’s upon my forehead he describedWith the sword’s point, and, “Take heed that thou washThese wounds, when thou shalt be within,” he said.
Ashes, or earth that dry is excavated,Of the same colour were with his attire,And from beneath it he drew forth two keys.
One was of gold, and the other was of silver;First with the white, and after with the yellow,Plied he the door, so that I was content.
“Whenever faileth either of these keysSo that it turn not rightly in the lock,”He said to us, “this entrance doth not open.
More precious one is, but the other needsMore art and intellect ere it unlock,For it is that which doth the knot unloose.
From Peter I have them; and he bade me errRather in opening than in keeping shut,If people but fall down before my feet.”
Then pushed the portals of the sacred door,Exclaiming: “Enter; but I give you warningThat forth returns whoever looks behind.”
And when upon their hinges were turned roundThe swivels of that consecrated gate,Which are of metal, massive and sonorous,
Roared not so loud, nor so discordant seemedTarpeia, when was ta’en from it the goodMetellus, wherefore meagre it remained.
At the first thunder-peal I turned attentive,And “Te Deum laudamus” seemed to hearIn voices mingled with sweet melody.
Exactly such an image rendered meThat which I heard, as we are wont to catch,When people singing with the organ stand;
For now we hear, and now hear not, the words.
Purgatorio: Canto X
When we had crossed the threshold of the doorWhich the perverted love of souls disuses,Because it makes the crooked way seem straight,
Re-echoing I heard it closed again;And if I had turned back mine eyes upon it,What for my failing had been fit excuse?
We mounted upward through a rifted rock,Which undulated to this side and that,Even as a wave receding and advancing.
“Here it behoves us use a little art,”Began my Leader, “to adapt ourselvesNow here, now there, to the receding side.”
And this our footsteps so infrequent made,That sooner had the moon’s decreasing diskRegained its bed to sink again to rest,
Than we were forth from out that needle’s eye;But when we free and in the open were,There where the mountain backward piles itself,
I wearied out, and both of us uncertainAbout our way, we stopped upon a plainMore desolate than roads across the deserts.
From where its margin borders on the void,To foot of the high bank that ever rises,A human body three times told would measure;
And far as eye of mine could wing its flight,Now on the left, and on the right flank now,The same this cornice did appear to me.
Thereon our feet had not been moved as yet,When I perceived the embankment round about,Which all right of ascent had interdicted,
To be of marble white, and so adornedWith sculptures, that not only Polycletus,But Nature’s self, had there been put to shame.
The Angel, who came down to earth with tidingsOf peace, that had been wept for many a year,And opened Heaven from its long interdict,
In front of us appeared so truthfullyThere sculptured in a gracious attitude,He did not seem an image that is silent.
One would have sworn that he was saying, “Ave;”For she was there in effigy portrayedWho turned the key to ope the exalted love,
And in her mien this language had impressed,“Ecce ancilla Dei,” as distinctlyAs any figure stamps itself in wax.
“Keep not thy mind upon one place alone,”The gentle Master said, who had me standingUpon that side where people have their hearts;
Whereat I moved mine eyes, and I beheldIn rear of Mary, and upon that sideWhere he was standing who conducted me,
Another story on the rock imposed;Wherefore I passed Virgilius and drew near,So that before mine eyes it might be set.
There sculptured in the self-same marble wereThe cart and oxen, drawing the holy ark,Wherefore one dreads an office not appointed.
People appeared in front, and all of themIn seven choirs divided, of two sensesMade one say “No,” the other, “Yes, they sing.”
Likewise unto the smoke of the frankincense,Which there was imaged forth, the eyes and noseWere in the yes and no discordant made.
Preceded there the vessel benedight,Dancing with girded loins, the humble Psalmist,And more and less than King was he in this.