Therefore they separate, exclaiming, ‘Sodom!’
Themselves reproving, even as thou hast heard,And add unto their burning by their shame.
Our own transgression was hermaphrodite;But because we observed not human law,Following like unto beasts our appetite,
In our opprobrium by us is read,When we part company, the name of herWho bestialized herself in bestial wood.
Now knowest thou our acts, and what our crime was;Wouldst thou perchance by name know who we are,There is not time to tell, nor could I do it.
Thy wish to know me shall in sooth be granted;I’m Guido Guinicelli, and now purge me,Having repented ere the hour extreme.”
The same that in the sadness of LycurgusTwo sons became, their mother re-beholding,Such I became, but rise not to such height,
The moment I heard name himself the fatherOf me and of my betters, who had everPractised the sweet and gracious rhymes of love;
And without speech and hearing thoughtfullyFor a long time I went, beholding him,Nor for the fire did I approach him nearer.
When I was fed with looking, utterlyMyself I offered ready for his service,With affirmation that compels belief.
And he to me: “Thou leavest footprints suchIn me, from what I hear, and so distinct,Lethe cannot efface them, nor make dim.
But if thy words just now the truth have sworn,Tell me what is the cause why thou displayestIn word and look that dear thou holdest me?”
And I to him: “Those dulcet lays of yoursWhich, long as shall endure our modern fashion,Shall make for ever dear their very ink!”
“O brother,” said he, “he whom I point out,”And here he pointed at a spirit in front,“Was of the mother tongue a better smith.
Verses of love and proses of romance,He mastered all; and let the idiots talk,Who think the Lemosin surpasses him.
To clamour more than truth they turn their faces,And in this way establish their opinion,Ere art or reason has by them been heard.
Thus many ancients with Guittone did,From cry to cry still giving him applause,Until the truth has conquered with most persons.
Now, if thou hast such ample privilege’Tis granted thee to go unto the cloisterWherein is Christ the abbot of the college,
To him repeat for me a Paternoster,So far as needful to us of this world,Where power of sinning is no longer ours.”
Then, to give place perchance to one behind,Whom he had near, he vanished in the fireAs fish in water going to the bottom.
I moved a little tow’rds him pointed out,And said that to his name my own desireAn honourable place was making ready.
He of his own free will began to say:‘Tan m’ abellis vostre cortes deman,Que jeu nom’ puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire;
Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan;Consiros vei la passada folor,E vei jauzen lo jorn qu’ esper denan.
Ara vus prec per aquella valor,Que vus condus al som de la scalina,Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor.’*
Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.
Purgatorio: Canto XXVII
As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays,In regions where his Maker shed his blood,(The Ebro falling under lofty Libra,
And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,)So stood the Sun; hence was the day departing,When the glad Angel of God appeared to us.
Outside the flame he stood upon the verge,And chanted forth, “Beati mundo corde,”In voice by far more living than our own.
Then: “No one farther goes, souls sanctified,If first the fire bite not; within it enter,And be not deaf unto the song beyond.”
When we were close beside him thus he said;Wherefore e’en such became I, when I heard him,As he is who is put into the grave.
Upon my clasped hands I straightened me,Scanning the fire, and vividly recallingThe human bodies I had once seen burned.
Towards me turned themselves my good Conductors,And unto me Virgilius said: “My son,Here may indeed be torment, but not death.
Remember thee, remember! and if IOn Geryon have safely guided thee,What shall I do now I am nearer God?
Believe for certain, shouldst thou stand a fullMillennium in the bosom of this flame,It could not make thee bald a single hair.
And if perchance thou think that I deceive thee,Draw near to it, and put it to the proofWith thine own hands upon thy garment’s hem.
Now lay aside, now lay aside all fear,Turn hitherward, and onward come securely;”And I still motionless, and ’gainst my conscience!
Seeing me stand still motionless and stubborn,Somewhat disturbed he said: “Now look thou, Son,’Twixt Beatrice and thee there is this wall.”
As at the name of Thisbe oped his lidsThe dying Pyramus, and gazed upon her,What time the mulberry became vermilion,
Even thus, my obduracy being softened,I turned to my wise Guide, hearing the nameThat in my memory evermore is welling.
Whereat he wagged his head, and said: “How now?Shall we stay on this side?” then smiled as oneDoes at a child who’s vanquished by an apple.
Then into the fire in front of me he entered,Beseeching Statius to come after me,Who a long way before divided us.
When I was in it, into molten glassI would have cast me to refresh myself,So without measure was the burning there!
And my sweet Father, to encourage me,Discoursing still of Beatrice went on,Saying: “Her eyes I seem to see already!”
A voice, that on the other side was singing,Directed us, and we, attent aloneOn that, came forth where the ascent began.
“Venite, benedicti Patris mei,”Sounded within a splendour, which was thereSuch it o’ercame me, and I could not look.
“The sun departs,” it added, “and night cometh;Tarry ye not, but onward urge your steps,So long as yet the west becomes not dark.”
Straight forward through the rock the path ascendedIn such a way that I cut off the raysBefore me of the sun, that now was low.
And of few stairs we yet had made assay,Ere by the vanished shadow the sun’s settingBehind us we perceived, I and my Sages.
And ere in all its parts immeasurableThe horizon of one aspect had become,And Night her boundless dispensation held,
Each of us of a stair had made his bed;Because the nature of the mount took from usThe power of climbing, more than the delight.
Even as in ruminating passive growThe goats, who have been swift and venturesomeUpon the mountain-tops ere they were fed,
Hushed in the shadow, while the sun is hot,Watched by the herdsman, who upon his staffIs leaning, and in leaning tendeth them;
And as the shepherd, lodging out of doors,Passes the night beside his quiet flock,Watching that no wild beast may scatter it,
Such at that hour were we, all three of us,I like the goat, and like the herdsmen they,Begirt on this side and on that by rocks.
Little could there be seen of things without;But through that little I beheld the starsMore luminous and larger than their wont.
Thus ruminating, and beholding these,Sleep seized upon me,—sleep, that oftentimesBefore a deed is done has tidings of it.
It was the hour, I think, when from the EastFirst on the mountain Citherea beamed,Who with the fire of love seems always burning;
Youthful and beautiful in dreams methoughtI saw a lady walking in a meadow,Gathering flowers; and singing she was saying:
“Know whosoever may my name demandThat I am Leah, and go moving roundMy beauteous hands to make myself a garland.
To please me at the mirror, here I deck me,But never does my sister Rachel leaveHer looking-glass, and sitteth all day long.
To see her beauteous eyes as eager is she,As I am to adorn me with my hands;Her, seeing, and me, doing satisfies.”
And now before the antelucan splendoursThat unto pilgrims the more grateful rise,As, home-returning, less remote they lodge,
The darkness fled away on every side,And slumber with it; whereupon I rose,Seeing already the great Masters risen.
“That apple sweet, which through so many branchesThe care of mortals goeth in pursuit of,To-day shall put in peace thy hungerings.”
Speaking to me, Virgilius of such wordsAs these made use; and never were there guerdonsThat could in pleasantness compare with these.
Such longing upon longing came upon meTo be above, that at each step thereafterFor flight I felt in me the pinions growing.
When underneath us was the stairway allRun o’er, and we were on the highest step,Virgilius fastened upon me his eyes,
And said: “The temporal fire and the eternal,Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art comeWhere of myself no farther I discern.
By intellect and art I here have brought thee;Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth;Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou.
Behold the sun, that shines upon thy forehead;Behold the grass, the flowerets, and the shrubsWhich of itself alone this land produces.
Until rejoicing come the beauteous eyesWhich weeping caused me to come unto thee,Thou canst sit down, and thou canst walk among them.
Expect no more or word or sign from me;Free and upright and sound is thy free-will,And error were it not to do its bidding;
Thee o’er thyself I therefore crown and mitre!”
Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII
Eager already to search in and roundThe heavenly forest, dense and living-green,Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day,
Withouten more delay I left the bank,Taking the level country slowly, slowlyOver the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance.
A softly-breathing air, that no mutationHad in itself, upon the forehead smote meNo heavier blow than of a gentle wind,
Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous,Did all of them bow downward toward that sideWhere its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain;
Yet not from their upright direction swayed,So that the little birds upon their topsShould leave the practice of each art of theirs;
But with full ravishment the hours of prime,Singing, received they in the midst of leaves,That ever bore a burden to their rhymes,
Such as from branch to branch goes gathering onThrough the pine forest on the shore of Chiassi,When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco.
Already my slow steps had carried meInto the ancient wood so far, that ICould not perceive where I had entered it.
And lo! my further course a stream cut off,Which tow’rd the left hand with its little wavesBent down the grass that on its margin sprang.
All waters that on earth most limpid areWould seem to have within themselves some mixtureCompared with that which nothing doth conceal,
Although it moves on with a brown, brown currentUnder the shade perpetual, that neverRay of the sun lets in, nor of the moon.
With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passedBeyond the rivulet, to look uponThe great variety of the fresh may.
And there appeared to me (even as appearsSuddenly something that doth turn asideThrough very wonder every other thought)
A lady all alone, who went alongSinging and culling floweret after floweret,With which her pathway was all painted over.
“Ah, beauteous lady, who in rays of loveDost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks,Which the heart’s witnesses are wont to be,
May the desire come unto thee to drawNear to this river’s bank,” I said to her,“So much that I might hear what thou art singing.
Thou makest me remember where and whatProserpina that moment was when lostHer mother her, and she herself the Spring.”
As turns herself, with feet together pressedAnd to the ground, a lady who is dancing,And hardly puts one foot before the other,
On the vermilion and the yellow floweretsShe turned towards me, not in other wiseThan maiden who her modest eyes casts down;
And my entreaties made to be content,So near approaching, that the dulcet soundCame unto me together with its meaning
As soon as she was where the grasses are.Bathed by the waters of the beauteous river,To lift her eyes she granted me the boon.
I do not think there shone so great a lightUnder the lids of Venus, when transfixedBy her own son, beyond his usual custom!
Erect upon the other bank she smiled,Bearing full many colours in her hands,Which that high land produces without seed.
Apart three paces did the river make us;But Hellespont, where Xerxes passed across,(A curb still to all human arrogance,)
More hatred from Leander did not sufferFor rolling between Sestos and Abydos,Than that from me, because it oped not then.
“Ye are new-comers; and because I smile,”Began she, “peradventure, in this placeElect to human nature for its nest,
Some apprehension keeps you marvelling;But the psalm ‘Delectasti’ giveth lightWhich has the power to uncloud your intellect.
And thou who foremost art, and didst entreat me,Speak, if thou wouldst hear more; for I came readyTo all thy questionings, as far as needful.”
“The water,” said I, “and the forest’s sound,Are combating within me my new faithIn something which I heard opposed to this.”
Whence she: “I will relate how from its causeProceedeth that which maketh thee to wonder,And purge away the cloud that smites upon thee.
The Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting,Created man good, and this goodly placeGave him as hansel of eternal peace.
By his default short while he sojourned here;By his default to weeping and to toilHe changed his innocent laughter and sweet play.
That the disturbance which below is madeBy exhalations of the land and water,(Which far as may be follow after heat,)
Might not upon mankind wage any war,This mount ascended tow’rds the heaven so high,And is exempt, from there where it is locked.
So pleases me your courteous demand,
I cannot and I will not hide me from you.
I am Arnaut, who weep and singing go;
Contrite I see the folly of the past,
And joyous see the hoped-for day before me.
Therefore do I implore you, by that power
Which guides you to the summit of the stairs,
Be mindful to assuage my suffering! ↩