Polymnestor who murdered Polydorus
Here finally is cried: ‘O Crassus, tell us,For thou dost know, what is the taste of gold?’
Sometimes we speak, one loud, another low,According to desire of speech, that spurs usTo greater now and now to lesser pace.
But in the good that here by day is talked of,Erewhile alone I was not; yet near byNo other person lifted up his voice.”
From him already we departed were,And made endeavour to o’ercome the roadAs much as was permitted to our power,
When I perceived, like something that is falling,The mountain tremble, whence a chill seized on me,As seizes him who to his death is going.
Certes so violently shook not Delos,Before Latona made her nest thereinTo give birth to the two eyes of the heaven.
Then upon all sides there began a cry,Such that the Master drew himself towards me,Saying, “Fear not, while I am guiding thee.”
“Gloria in excelsis Deo,” allWere saying, from what near I comprehended,Where it was possible to hear the cry.
We paused immovable and in suspense,Even as the shepherds who first heard that song,Until the trembling ceased, and it was finished.
Then we resumed again our holy path,Watching the shades that lay upon the ground,Already turned to their accustomed plaint.
No ignorance ever with so great a strifeHad rendered me importunate to know,If erreth not in this my memory,
As meditating then I seemed to have;Nor out of haste to question did I dare,Nor of myself I there could aught perceive;
So I went onward timorous and thoughtful.
Purgatorio: Canto XXI
The natural thirst, that ne’er is satisfiedExcepting with the water for whose graceThe woman of Samaria besought,
Put me in travail, and haste goaded meAlong the encumbered path behind my LeaderAnd I was pitying that righteous vengeance;
And lo! in the same manner as Luke writethThat Christ appeared to two upon the wayFrom the sepulchral cave already risen,
A shade appeared to us, and came behind us,Down gazing on the prostrate multitude,Nor were we ware of it, until it spake,
Saying, “My brothers, may God give you peace!”We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius renderedTo him the countersign thereto conforming.
Thereon began he: “In the blessed council,Thee may the court veracious place in peace,That me doth banish in eternal exile!”
“How,” said he, and the while we went with speed,“If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high,Who up his stairs so far has guided you?”
And said my Teacher: “If thou note the marksWhich this one bears, and which the Angel tracesWell shalt thou see he with the good must reign.
But because she who spinneth day and nightFor him had not yet drawn the distaff off,Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts,
His soul, which is thy sister and my own,In coming upwards could not come alone,By reason that it sees not in our fashion.
Whence I was drawn from out the ample throatOf Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide himAs far on as my school has power to lead.
But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudderErewhile the mountain gave, and why togetherAll seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?”
In asking he so hit the very eyeOf my desire, that merely with the hopeMy thirst became the less unsatisfied.
“Naught is there,” he began, “that without orderMay the religion of the mountain feel,Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom.
Free is it here from every permutation;What from itself heaven in itself receivethCan be of this the cause, and naught beside;
Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow,Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher fallsThan the short, little stairway of three steps.
Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied,Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas,That often upon earth her region shifts;
No arid vapour any farther risesThan to the top of the three steps I spake of,Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet.
Lower down perchance it trembles less or more,But, for the wind that in the earth is hiddenI know not how, up here it never trembled.
It trembles here, whenever any soulFeels itself pure, so that it soars, or movesTo mount aloft, and such a cry attends it.
Of purity the will alone gives proof,Which, being wholly free to change its convent,Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly.
First it wills well; but the desire permits not,Which divine justice with the self-same willThere was to sin, upon the torment sets.
And I, who have been lying in this painFive hundred years and more, but just now feltA free volition for a better seat.
Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the piousSpirits along the mountain rendering praiseUnto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards.”
So said he to him; and since we enjoyAs much in drinking as the thirst is great,I could not say how much it did me good.
And the wise Leader: “Now I see the netThat snares you here, and how ye are set free,Why the earth quakes, and wherefore ye rejoice.
Now who thou wast be pleased that I may know;And why so many centuries thou hast hereBeen lying, let me gather from thy words.”
“In days when the good Titus, with the aidOf the supremest King, avenged the woundsWhence issued forth the blood by Judas sold,
Under the name that most endures and honours,Was I on earth,” that spirit made reply,“Greatly renowned, but not with faith as yet.
My vocal spirit was so sweet, that RomeMe, a Thoulousian, drew unto herself,Where I deserved to deck my brows with myrtle.
Statius the people name me still on earth;I sang of Thebes, and then of great Achilles;But on the way fell with my second burden.
The seeds unto my ardour were the sparksOf that celestial flame which heated me,Whereby more than a thousand have been fired;
Of the Aeneid speak I, which to meA mother was, and was my nurse in song;Without this weighed I not a drachma’s weight.
And to have lived upon the earth what timeVirgilius lived, I would accept one sunMore than I must ere issuing from my ban.”
These words towards me made Virgilius turnWith looks that in their silence said, “Be silent!”But yet the power that wills cannot do all things;
For tears and laughter are such pursuivantsUnto the passion from which each springs forth,In the most truthful least the will they follow.
I only smiled, as one who gives the wink;Whereat the shade was silent, and it gazedInto mine eyes, where most expression dwells;
And, “As thou well mayst consummate a labourSo great,” it said, “why did thy face just nowDisplay to me the lightning of a smile?”
Now am I caught on this side and on that;One keeps me silent, one to speak conjures me,Wherefore I sigh, and I am understood.
“Speak,” said my Master, “and be not afraidOf speaking, but speak out, and say to himWhat he demands with such solicitude.”
Whence I: “Thou peradventure marvellest,O antique spirit, at the smile I gave;But I will have more wonder seize upon thee.
This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine,Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learnTo sing aloud of men and of the Gods.
If other cause thou to my smile imputedst,Abandon it as false, and trust it wasThose words which thou hast spoken concerning him.”
Already he was stooping to embraceMy Teacher’s feet; but he said to him: “Brother,Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest.”
And he uprising: “Now canst thou the sumOf love which warms me to thee comprehend,When this our vanity I disremember,
Treating a shadow as substantial thing.”
Purgatorio: Canto XXII
Already was the Angel left behind us,The Angel who to the sixth round had turned us,Having erased one mark from off my face;
And those who have in justice their desireHad said to us, “Beati,” in their voices,With “sitio,” and without more ended it.
And I, more light than through the other passes,Went onward so, that without any labourI followed upward the swift-footed spirits;
When thus Virgilius began: “The loveKindled by virtue aye another kindles,Provided outwardly its flame appear.
Hence from the hour that Juvenal descendedAmong us into the infernal Limbo,Who made apparent to me thy affection,
My kindliness towards thee was as greatAs ever bound one to an unseen person,So that these stairs will now seem short to me.
But tell me, and forgive me as a friend,If too great confidence let loose the rein,And as a friend now hold discourse with me;
How was it possible within thy breastFor avarice to find place, ’mid so much wisdomAs thou wast filled with by thy diligence?”
These words excited Statius at firstSomewhat to laughter; afterward he answered:“Each word of thine is love’s dear sign to me.