Meanwhile along the mountain-side across
Came people in advance of us a little,Singing the Miserere verse by verse.
When they became aware I gave no placeFor passage of the sunshine through my body,They changed their song into a long, hoarse “Oh!”
And two of them, in form of messengers,Ran forth to meet us, and demanded of us,“Of your condition make us cognisant.”
And said my Master: “Ye can go your wayAnd carry back again to those who sent you,That this one’s body is of very flesh.
If they stood still because they saw his shadow,As I suppose, enough is answered them;Him let them honour, it may profit them.”
Vapours enkindled saw I ne’er so swiftlyAt early nightfall cleave the air serene,Nor, at the set of sun, the clouds of August,
But upward they returned in briefer time,And, on arriving, with the others wheeledTow’rds us, like troops that run without a rein.
“This folk that presses unto us is great,And cometh to implore thee,” said the Poet;“So still go onward, and in going listen.”
“O soul that goest to beatitudeWith the same members wherewith thou wast born,”Shouting they came, “a little stay thy steps,
Look, if thou e’er hast any of us seen,So that o’er yonder thou bear news of him;Ah, why dost thou go on? Ah, why not stay?
Long since we all were slain by violence,And sinners even to the latest hour;Then did a light from heaven admonish us,
So that, both penitent and pardoning, forthFrom life we issued reconciled to God,Who with desire to see Him stirs our hearts.”
And I: “Although I gaze into your faces,No one I recognize; but if may please youAught I have power to do, ye well-born spirits,
Speak ye, and I will do it, by that peaceWhich, following the feet of such a Guide,From world to world makes itself sought by me.”
And one began: “Each one has confidenceIn thy good offices without an oath,Unless the I cannot cut off the I will;
Whence I, who speak alone before the others,Pray thee, if ever thou dost see the landThat ’twixt Romagna lies and that of Charles,
Thou be so courteous to me of thy prayersIn Fano, that they pray for me devoutly,That I may purge away my grave offences.
From thence was I; but the deep wounds, through whichIssued the blood wherein I had my seat,Were dealt me in bosom of the Antenori,
There where I thought to be the most secure;’Twas he of Este had it done, who held meIn hatred far beyond what justice willed.
But if towards the Mira I had fled,When I was overtaken at Oriaco,I still should be o’er yonder where men breathe.
I ran to the lagoon, and reeds and mireDid so entangle me I fell, and saw thereA lake made from my veins upon the ground.”
Then said another: “Ah, be that desireFulfilled that draws thee to the lofty mountain,As thou with pious pity aidest mine.
I was of Montefeltro, and am Buonconte;Giovanna, nor none other cares for me;Hence among these I go with downcast front.”
And I to him: “What violence or what chanceLed thee astray so far from Campaldino,That never has thy sepulture been known?”
“Oh,” he replied, “at Casentino’s footA river crosses named Archiano, bornAbove the Hermitage in Apennine.
There where the name thereof becometh voidDid I arrive, pierced through and through the throat,Fleeing on foot, and bloodying the plain;
There my sight lost I, and my utteranceCeased in the name of Mary, and thereatI fell, and tenantless my flesh remained.
Truth will I speak, repeat it to the living;God’s Angel took me up, and he of hellShouted: ‘O thou from heaven, why dost thou rob me?
Thou bearest away the eternal part of him,For one poor little tear, that takes him from me;But with the rest I’ll deal in other fashion!’
Well knowest thou how in the air is gatheredThat humid vapour which to water turns,Soon as it rises where the cold doth grasp it.
He joined that evil will, which aye seeks evil,To intellect, and moved the mist and windBy means of power, which his own nature gave;
Thereafter, when the day was spent, the valleyFrom Pratomagno to the great yoke coveredWith fog, and made the heaven above intent,
So that the pregnant air to water changed;Down fell the rain, and to the gullies cameWhate’er of it earth tolerated not;
And as it mingled with the mighty torrents,Towards the royal river with such speedIt headlong rushed, that nothing held it back.
My frozen body near unto its outletThe robust Archian found, and into ArnoThrust it, and loosened from my breast the cross
I made of me, when agony o’ercame me;It rolled me on the banks and on the bottom,Then with its booty covered and begirt me.”
“Ah, when thou hast returned unto the world,And rested thee from thy long journeying,”After the second followed the third spirit,
“Do thou remember me who am the Pia;Siena made me, unmade me Maremma;He knoweth it, who had encircled first,
Espousing me, my finger with his gem.”
Purgatorio: Canto VI
Whene’er is broken up the game of Zara,He who has lost remains behind despondent,The throws repeating, and in sadness learns;
The people with the other all depart;One goes in front, and one behind doth pluck him,And at his side one brings himself to mind;
He pauses not, and this and that one hears;They crowd no more to whom his hand he stretches,And from the throng he thus defends himself.
Even such was I in that dense multitude,Turning to them this way and that my face,And, promising, I freed myself therefrom.
There was the Aretine, who from the armsUntamed of Ghin di Tacco had his death,And he who fleeing from pursuit was drowned.
There was imploring with his hands outstretchedFrederick Novello, and that one of PisaWho made the good Marzucco seem so strong.
I saw Count Orso; and the soul dividedBy hatred and by envy from its body,As it declared, and not for crime committed,
Pierre de la Brosse I say; and here provideWhile still on earth the Lady of Brabant,So that for this she be of no worse flock!
As soon as I was free from all those shadesWho only prayed that some one else may pray,So as to hasten their becoming holy,
Began I: “It appears that thou deniest,O light of mine, expressly in some text,That orison can bend decree of Heaven;
And ne’ertheless these people pray for this.Might then their expectation bootless be?Or is to me thy saying not quite clear?”
And he to me: “My writing is explicit,And not fallacious is the hope of these,If with sane intellect ’tis well regarded;
For top of judgment doth not vail itself,Because the fire of love fulfils at onceWhat he must satisfy who here installs him.
And there, where I affirmed that proposition,Defect was not amended by a prayer,Because the prayer from God was separate.
Verily, in so deep a questioningDo not decide, unless she tell it thee,Who light ’twixt truth and intellect shall be.
I know not if thou understand; I speakOf Beatrice; her shalt thou see above,Smiling and happy, on this mountain’s top.”
And I: “Good Leader, let us make more haste,For I no longer tire me as before;And see, e’en now the hill a shadow casts.”
“We will go forward with this day” he answered,“As far as now is possible for us;But otherwise the fact is than thou thinkest.
Ere thou art up there, thou shalt see returnHim, who now hides himself behind the hill,So that thou dost not interrupt his rays.
But yonder there behold! a soul that stationedAll, all alone is looking hitherward;It will point out to us the quickest way.”
We came up unto it; O Lombard soul,How lofty and disdainful thou didst bear thee,And grand and slow in moving of thine eyes!
Nothing whatever did it say to us,But let us go our way, eying us onlyAfter the manner of a couchant lion;
Still near to it Virgilius drew, entreatingThat it would point us out the best ascent;And it replied not unto his demand,
But of our native land and of our lifeIt questioned us; and the sweet Guide began:“Mantua,”—and the shade, all in itself recluse,
Rose tow’rds him from the place where first it was,Saying: “O Mantuan, I am SordelloOf thine own land!” and one embraced the other.