Divine Comedy — 10 - Purgatorio: Canto XII-Canto XVI

Purgatorio: Canto XII Abreast, like oxen going in a yoke, I with that heavy-laden soul went on, As long as the sweet pedagogue permitted;

But when he said, “Leave him, and onward pass, For here ’tis good that with the sail and oars, As much as may be, each push on his barque;”

Upright, as walking wills it, I redressed My person, notwithstanding that my thoughts Remained within me downcast and abashed.

I had moved on, and followed willingly The footsteps of my Master, and we both Already showed how light of foot we were, When unto me he said: “Cast down thine eyes;

’Twere well for thee, to alleviate the way, To look upon the bed beneath thy feet.

” As, that some memory may exist of them, Above the buried dead their tombs in earth Bear sculptured on them what they were before;

Whence often there we weep for them afresh, From pricking of remembrance, which alone To the compassionate doth set its spur;

So saw I there, but of a better semblance In point of artifice, with figures covered Whate’er as pathway from the mount projects.

I saw that one who was created noble More than all other creatures, down from heaven Flaming with lightnings fall upon one side.

I saw Briareus smitten by the dart Celestial, lying on the other side, Heavy upon the earth by mortal frost.

I saw Thymbraeus, Pallas saw, and Mars, Still clad in armour round about their father, Gaze at the scattered members of the giants.

I saw, at foot of his great labour, Nimrod, As if bewildered, looking at the people Who had been proud with him in Sennaar.

O Niobe!

with what afflicted eyes Thee I beheld upon the pathway traced, Between thy seven and seven children slain!

O Saul!

how fallen upon thy proper sword Didst thou appear there lifeless in Gilboa, That felt thereafter neither rain nor dew!

O mad Arachne!

so I thee beheld E’en then half spider, sad upon the shreds Of fabric wrought in evil hour for thee!

O Rehoboam!

no more seems to threaten Thine image there; but full of consternation A chariot bears it off, when none pursues!

Displayed moreo’er the adamantine pavement How unto his own mother made Alcmaeon Costly appear the luckless ornament;

Displayed how his own sons did throw themselves Upon Sennacherib within the temple, And how, he being dead, they left him there;

Displayed the ruin and the cruel carnage That Tomyris wrought, when she to Cyrus said, “Blood didst thou thirst for, and with blood I glut thee!

” Displayed how routed fled the Assyrians After that Holofernes had been slain, And likewise the remainder of that slaughter.

I saw there Troy in ashes and in caverns;

O Ilion!

thee, how abject and debased, Displayed the image that is there discerned!

Whoe’er of pencil master was or stile, That could portray the shades and traits which there Would cause each subtile genius to admire?

Dead seemed the dead, the living seemed alive;

Better than I saw not who saw the truth, All that I trod upon while bowed I went.

Now wax ye proud, and on with looks uplifted, Ye sons of Eve, and bow not down your faces So that ye may behold your evil ways!

More of the mount by us was now encompassed, And far more spent the circuit of the sun, Than had the mind preoccupied imagined, When he, who ever watchful in advance Was going on, began: “Lift up thy head, ’Tis no more time to go thus meditating.

Lo there an Angel who is making haste To come towards us; lo, returning is From service of the day the sixth handmaiden.

With reverence thine acts and looks adorn, So that he may delight to speed us upward;

Think that this day will never dawn again.

” I was familiar with his admonition Ever to lose no time; so on this theme He could not unto me speak covertly.

Towards us came the being beautiful Vested in white, and in his countenance Such as appears the tremulous morning star.

His arms he opened, and opened then his wings;

“Come,” said he, “near at hand here are the steps, And easy from henceforth is the ascent.

” At this announcement few are they who come!

O human creatures, born to soar aloft, Why fall ye thus before a little wind?

He led us on to where the rock was cleft;

There smote upon my forehead with his wings, Then a safe passage promised unto me.

As on the right hand, to ascend the mount Where seated is the church that lordeth it O’er the well-guided, above Rubaconte, The bold abruptness of the ascent is broken By stairways that were made there in the age When still were safe the ledger and the stave, E’en thus attempered is the bank which falls Sheer downward from the second circle there;

But on this, side and that the high rock graze.

As we were turning thitherward our persons, “Beati pauperes spiritu,” voices Sang in such wise that speech could tell it not.

Ah me!

how different are these entrances From the Infernal!

for with anthems here One enters, and below with wild laments.

We now were hunting up the sacred stairs, And it appeared to me by far more easy Than on the plain it had appeared before.

Whence I: “My Master, say, what heavy thing Has been uplifted from me, so that hardly Aught of fatigue is felt by me in walking?

” He answered: “When the P’s which have remained Still on thy face almost obliterate Shall wholly, as the first is, be erased, Thy feet will be so vanquished by good will, That not alone they shall not feel fatigue, But urging up will be to them delight.

” Then did I even as they do who are going With something on the head to them unknown, Unless the signs of others make them doubt, Wherefore the hand to ascertain is helpful, And seeks and finds, and doth fulfill the office Which cannot be accomplished by the sight;

And with the fingers of the right hand spread I found but six the letters, that had carved Upon my temples he who bore the keys;

Upon beholding which my Leader smiled.

Purgatorio: Canto XIII We were upon the summit of the stairs, Where for the second time is cut away The mountain, which ascending shriveth all.

There in like manner doth a cornice bind The hill all round about, as does the first, Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.

Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;

So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth, With but the livid colour of the stone.

“If to inquire we wait for people here,” The Poet said, “I fear that peradventure Too much delay will our election have.

” Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed, Made his right side the centre of his motion, And turned the left part of himself about.

“O thou sweet light!

with trust in whom I enter Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,” Said he, “as one within here should be led.

Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;

If other reason prompt not otherwise, Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!

” As much as here is counted for a mile, So much already there had we advanced In little time, by dint of ready will;

And tow’rds us there were heard to fly, albeit They were not visible, spirits uttering Unto Love’s table courteous invitations, The first voice that passed onward in its flight, “Vinum non habent,” said in accents loud, And went reiterating it behind us.

And ere it wholly grew inaudible Because of distance, passed another, crying, “I am Orestes!

” and it also stayed not.

“O,” said I, “Father, these, what voices are they?

” And even as I asked, behold the third, Saying: “Love those from whom ye have had evil!

” And the good Master said: “This circle scourges The sin of envy, and on that account Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.

The bridle of another sound shall be;

I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge, Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.

But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast, And people thou wilt see before us sitting, And each one close against the cliff is seated.

” Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;

I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles Not from the colour of the stone diverse.

And when we were a little farther onward, I heard a cry of, “Mary, pray for us!

” A cry of, “Michael, Peter, and all Saints!

” I do not think there walketh still on earth A man so hard, that he would not be pierced With pity at what afterward I saw.

For when I had approached so near to them That manifest to me their acts became, Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.

Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me, And one sustained the other with his shoulder, And all of them were by the bank sustained.

Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood, Stand at the doors of churches asking alms, And one upon another leans his head, So that in others pity soon may rise, Not only at the accent of their words, But at their aspect, which no less implores.

And as unto the blind the sun comes not, So to the shades, of whom just now I spake, Heaven’s light will not be bounteous of itself;

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces, And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage, Seeing the others without being seen;

Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.

Well knew he what the mute one wished to say, And therefore waited not for my demand, But said: “Speak, and be brief, and to the point.

” I had Virgilius upon that side Of the embankment from which one may fall, Since by no border ’tis engarlanded;

Upon the other side of me I had The shades devout, who through the horrible seam Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

To them I turned me, and, “O people, certain,” Began I, “of beholding the high light, Which your desire has solely in its care, So may grace speedily dissolve the scum Upon your consciences, that limpidly Through them descend the river of the mind, Tell me, for dear ’twill be to me and gracious, If any soul among you here is Latian, And ’twill perchance be good for him I learn it.

” “O brother mine, each one is citizen Of one true city; but thy meaning is, Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim.

” By way of answer this I seemed to hear A little farther on than where I stood, Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.

Among the rest I saw a shade that waited In aspect, and should any one ask how, Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.

“Spirit,” I said, “who stoopest to ascend, If thou art he who did reply to me, Make thyself known to me by place or name.

” “Sienese was I,” it replied, “and with The others here recleanse my guilty life, Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

Sapient I was not, although I Sapia Was called, and I was at another’s harm More happy far than at my own good fortune.

And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee, Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.

The arc already of my years descending, My fellow-citizens near unto Colle Were joined in battle with their adversaries, And I was praying God for what he willed.

Routed were they, and turned into the bitter Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding, A joy received unequalled by all others;

So that I lifted upward my bold face Crying to God, ‘Henceforth I fear thee not,’ As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.

Peace I desired with God at the extreme Of my existence, and as yet would not My debt have been by penitence discharged, Had it not been that in remembrance held me Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers, Who out of charity was grieved for me.

But who art thou, that into our conditions Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?

” “Mine eyes,” I said, “will yet be here ta’en from me, But for short space; for small is the offence Committed by their being turned with envy.

Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended My soul is, of the torment underneath, For even now the load down there weighs on me.

” And she to me: “Who led thee, then, among us Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?

” And I: “He who is with me, and speaks not;

And living am I; therefore ask of me, Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move O’er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee.

” “O, this is such a novel thing to hear,” She answered, “that great sign it is God loves thee;

Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me.

And I implore, by what thou most desirest, If e’er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany, Well with my kindred reinstate my fame.

Them wilt thou see among that people vain Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there More hope than in discovering the Diana;

But there still more the admirals will lose.

” Purgatorio: Canto XIV “Who is this one that goes about our mountain, Or ever Death has given him power of flight, And opes his eyes and shuts them at his will?

” “I know not who, but know he’s not alone;

Ask him thyself, for thou art nearer to him, And gently, so that he may speak, accost him.

” Thus did two spirits, leaning tow’rds each other, Discourse about me there on the right hand;

Then held supine their faces to address me.

And said the one: “O soul, that, fastened still Within the body, tow’rds the heaven art going, For charity console us, and declare Whence comest and who art thou; for thou mak’st us As much to marvel at this grace of thine As must a thing that never yet has been.

” And I: “Through midst of Tuscany there wanders A streamlet that is born in Falterona, And not a hundred miles of course suffice it;

From thereupon do I this body bring.

To tell you who I am were speech in vain, Because my name as yet makes no great noise.

” “If well thy meaning I can penetrate With intellect of mine,” then answered me He who first spake, “thou speakest of the Arno.

” And said the other to him: “Why concealed This one the appellation of that river, Even as a man doth of things horrible?

” And thus the shade that questioned was of this Himself acquitted: “I know not; but truly ’Tis fit the name of such a valley perish;

For from its fountain-head (where is so pregnant The Alpine mountain whence is cleft Peloro That in few places it that mark surpasses) To where it yields itself in restoration Of what the heaven doth of the sea dry up, Whence have the rivers that which goes with them, Virtue is like an enemy avoided By all, as is a serpent, through misfortune Of place, or through bad habit that impels them;

On which account have so transformed their nature The dwellers in that miserable valley, It seems that Circe had them in her pasture.

’Mid ugly swine, of acorns worthier Than other food for human use created, It first directeth its impoverished way.

Curs findeth it thereafter, coming downward, More snarling than their puissance demands, And turns from them disdainfully its muzzle.

It goes on falling, and the more it grows, The more it finds the dogs becoming wolves, This maledict and misadventurous ditch.

Descended then through many a hollow gulf, It finds the foxes so replete with fraud, They fear no cunning that may master them.

Nor will I cease because another hears me;

And well ’twill be for him, if still he mind him Of what a truthful spirit to me unravels.

Thy grandson I behold, who doth become A hunter of those wolves upon the bank Of the wild stream, and terrifies them all.

He sells their flesh, it being yet alive;

Thereafter slaughters them like ancient beeves;

Many of life, himself of praise, deprives.

Blood-stained he issues from the dismal forest;

He leaves it such, a thousand years from now In its primeval state ’tis not re-wooded.

” As at the announcement of impending ills The face of him who listens is disturbed, From whate’er side the peril seize upon him;

So I beheld that other soul, which stood Turned round to listen, grow disturbed and sad, When it had gathered to itself the word.

The speech of one and aspect of the other Had me desirous made to know their names, And question mixed with prayers I made thereof, Whereat the spirit which first spake to me Began again: “Thou wishest I should bring me To do for thee what thou’lt not do for me;

But since God willeth that in thee shine forth Such grace of his, I’ll not be chary with thee;

Know, then, that I Guido del Duca am.

My blood was so with envy set on fire, That if I had beheld a man make merry, Thou wouldst have seen me sprinkled o’er with pallor.

From my own sowing such the straw I reap!

O human race!

why dost thou set thy heart Where interdict of partnership must be?

This is Renier; this is the boast and honour Of the house of Calboli, where no one since Has made himself the heir of his desert.

And not alone his blood is made devoid, ’Twixt Po and mount, and sea-shore and the Reno, Of good required for truth and for diversion;

For all within these boundaries is full Of venomous roots, so that too tardily By cultivation now would they diminish.

Where is good Lizio, and Arrigo Manardi, Pier Traversaro, and Guido di Carpigna, O Romagnuoli into bastards turned?

When in Bologna will a Fabbro rise?

When in Faenza a Bernardin di Fosco, The noble scion of ignoble seed?

Be not astonished, Tuscan, if I weep, When I remember, with Guido da Prata, Ugolin d’ Azzo, who was living with us, Frederick Tignoso and his company, The house of Traversara, and th’ Anastagi, And one race and the other is extinct;

The dames and cavaliers, the toils and ease That filled our souls with love and courtesy, There where the hearts have so malicious grown!

O Brettinoro!

why dost thou not flee, Seeing that all thy family is gone, And many people, not to be corrupted?

Bagnacaval does well in not begetting And ill does Castrocaro, and Conio worse, In taking trouble to beget such Counts.

Will do well the Pagani, when their Devil Shall have departed; but not therefore pure Will testimony of them e’er remain.

O Ugolin de’ Fantoli, secure Thy name is, since no longer is awaited One who, degenerating, can obscure it!

But go now, Tuscan, for it now delights me To weep far better than it does to speak, So much has our discourse my mind distressed.

” We were aware that those beloved souls Heard us depart; therefore, by keeping silent, They made us of our pathway confident.

When we became alone by going onward, Thunder, when it doth cleave the air, appeared A voice, that counter to us came, exclaiming: “Shall slay me whosoever findeth me!

” And fled as the reverberation dies If suddenly the cloud asunder bursts.

As soon as hearing had a truce from this, Behold another, with so great a crash, That it resembled thunderings following fast: “I am Aglaurus, who became a stone!

” And then, to press myself close to the Poet, I backward, and not forward, took a step.

Already on all sides the air was quiet;

And said he to me: “That was the hard curb That ought to hold a man within his bounds;

But you take in the bait so that the hook Of the old Adversary draws you to him, And hence availeth little curb or call.

The heavens are calling you, and wheel around you, Displaying to you their eternal beauties, And still your eye is looking on the ground;

Whence He, who all discerns, chastises you.

” Purgatorio: Canto XV As much as ’twixt the close of the third hour And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere Which aye in fashion of a child is playing, So much it now appeared, towards the night, Was of his course remaining to the sun;

There it was evening, and ’twas midnight here;

And the rays smote the middle of our faces, Because by us the mount was so encircled, That straight towards the west we now were going When I perceived my forehead overpowered Beneath the splendour far more than at first, And stupor were to me the things unknown, Whereat towards the summit of my brow I raised my hands, and made myself the visor Which the excessive glare diminishes.

As when from off the water, or a mirror, The sunbeam leaps unto the opposite side, Ascending upward in the selfsame measure That it descends, and deviates as far From falling of a stone in line direct, (As demonstrate experiment and art,) So it appeared to me that by a light Refracted there before me I was smitten;

On which account my sight was swift to flee.

“What is that, Father sweet, from which I cannot So fully screen my sight that it avail me,” Said I, “and seems towards us to be moving?

” “Marvel thou not, if dazzle thee as yet The family of heaven,” he answered me;

“An angel ’tis, who comes to invite us upward.

Soon will it be, that to behold these things Shall not be grievous, but delightful to thee As much as nature fashioned thee to feel.

” When we had reached the Angel benedight, With joyful voice he said: “Here enter in To stairway far less steep than are the others.

” We mounting were, already thence departed, And “Beati misericordes” was Behind us sung, “Rejoice, thou that o’ercomest!

” My Master and myself, we two alone Were going upward, and I thought, in going, Some profit to acquire from words of his;

And I to him directed me, thus asking: “What did the spirit of Romagna mean, Mentioning interdict and partnership?

” Whence he to me: “Of his own greatest failing He knows the harm; and therefore wonder not If he reprove us, that we less may rue it.

Because are thither pointed your desires Where by companionship each share is lessened, Envy doth ply the bellows to your sighs.

But if the love of the supernal sphere Should upwardly direct your aspiration, There would not be that fear within your breast;

For there, as much the more as one says ‘Our,’ So much the more of good each one possesses, And more of charity in that cloister burns.

” “I am more hungering to be satisfied,” I said, “than if I had before been silent, And more of doubt within my mind I gather.

How can it be, that boon distributed The more possessors can more wealthy make Therein, than if by few it be possessed?

” And he to me: “Because thou fixest still Thy mind entirely upon earthly things, Thou pluckest darkness from the very light.

That goodness infinite and ineffable Which is above there, runneth unto love, As to a lucid body comes the sunbeam.

So much it gives itself as it finds ardour, So that as far as charity extends, O’er it increases the eternal valour.

And the more people thitherward aspire, More are there to love well, and more they love there, And, as a mirror, one reflects the other.

And if my reasoning appease thee not, Thou shalt see Beatrice; and she will fully Take from thee this and every other longing.

Endeavour, then, that soon may be extinct, As are the two already, the five wounds That close themselves again by being painful.

” Even as I wished to say, “Thou dost appease me,” I saw that I had reached another circle, So that my eager eyes made me keep silence.

There it appeared to me that in a vision Ecstatic on a sudden I was rapt, And in a temple many persons saw;

And at the door a woman, with the sweet Behaviour of a mother, saying: “Son, Why in this manner hast thou dealt with us?

Lo, sorrowing, thy father and myself Were seeking for thee;”—and as here she ceased, That which appeared at first had disappeared.

Then I beheld another with those waters Adown her cheeks which grief distils whenever From great disdain of others it is born, And saying: “If of that city thou art lord, For whose name was such strife among the gods, And whence doth every science scintillate, Avenge thyself on those audacious arms That clasped our daughter, O Pisistratus;”

And the lord seemed to me benign and mild To answer her with aspect temperate: “What shall we do to those who wish us ill, If he who loves us be by us condemned?

” Then saw I people hot in fire of wrath, With stones a young man slaying, clamorously Still crying to each other, “Kill him!

kill him!

” And him I saw bow down, because of death That weighed already on him, to the earth, But of his eyes made ever gates to heaven, Imploring the high Lord, in so great strife, That he would pardon those his persecutors, With such an aspect as unlocks compassion.

Soon as my soul had outwardly returned To things external to it which are true, Did I my not false errors recognize.

My Leader, who could see me bear myself Like to a man that rouses him from sleep, Exclaimed: “What ails thee, that thou canst not stand?

But hast been coming more than half a league Veiling thine eyes, and with thy legs entangled, In guise of one whom wine or sleep subdues?

” “O my sweet Father, if thou listen to me, I’ll tell thee,” said I, “what appeared to me, When thus from me my legs were ta’en away.

” And he: “If thou shouldst have a hundred masks Upon thy face, from me would not be shut Thy cogitations, howsoever small.

What thou hast seen was that thou mayst not fail To ope thy heart unto the waters of peace, Which from the eternal fountain are diffused.

I did not ask, ‘What ails thee?

’ as he does Who only looketh with the eyes that see not When of the soul bereft the body lies, But asked it to give vigour to thy feet;

Thus must we needs urge on the sluggards, slow To use their wakefulness when it returns.

” We passed along, athwart the twilight peering Forward as far as ever eye could stretch Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent;

And lo!

by slow degrees a smoke approached In our direction, sombre as the night, Nor was there place to hide one’s self therefrom.

This of our eyes and the pure air bereft us.

Purgatorio: Canto XVI Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived Of every planet under a poor sky, As much as may be tenebrous with cloud, Ne’er made unto my sight so thick a veil, As did that smoke which there enveloped us, Nor to the feeling of so rough a texture;

For not an eye it suffered to stay open;

Whereat mine escort, faithful and sagacious, Drew near to me and offered me his shoulder.

E’en as a blind man goes behind his guide, Lest he should wander, or should strike against Aught that may harm or peradventure kill him, So went I through the bitter and foul air, Listening unto my Leader, who said only, “Look that from me thou be not separated.

” Voices I heard, and every one appeared To supplicate for peace and misericord The Lamb of God who takes away our sins.

Still “Agnus Dei” their exordium was;

One word there was in all, and metre one, So that all harmony appeared among them.

“Master,” I said, “are spirits those I hear?

” And he to me: “Thou apprehendest truly, And they the knot of anger go unloosing.

” “Now who art thou, that cleavest through our smoke And art discoursing of us even as though Thou didst by calends still divide the time?

” After this manner by a voice was spoken;

Whereon my Master said: “Do thou reply, And ask if on this side the way go upward.

” And I: “O creature that dost cleanse thyself To return beautiful to Him who made thee, Thou shalt hear marvels if thou follow me.

” “Thee will I follow far as is allowed me,” He answered; “and if smoke prevent our seeing, Hearing shall keep us joined instead thereof.

” Thereon began I: “With that swathing band Which death unwindeth am I going upward, And hither came I through the infernal anguish.

And if God in his grace has me infolded, So that he wills that I behold his court By method wholly out of modern usage, Conceal not from me who ere death thou wast, But tell it me, and tell me if I go Right for the pass, and be thy words our escort.

” “Lombard was I, and I was Marco called;

The world I knew, and loved that excellence, At which has each one now unbent his bow.

For mounting upward, thou art going right.

” Thus he made answer, and subjoined: “I pray thee To pray for me when thou shalt be above.

” And I to him: “My faith I pledge to thee To do what thou dost ask me; but am bursting Inly with doubt, unless I rid me of it.

First it was simple, and is now made double By thy opinion, which makes certain to me, Here and elsewhere, that which I couple with it.

The world forsooth is utterly deserted By every virtue, as thou tellest me, And with iniquity is big and covered;

But I beseech thee point me out the cause, That I may see it, and to others show it;

For one in the heavens, and here below one puts it.

” A sigh profound, that grief forced into Ai!

He first sent forth, and then began he: “Brother, The world is blind, and sooth thou comest from it!

Ye who are living every cause refer Still upward to the heavens, as if all things They of necessity moved with themselves.

If this were so, in you would be destroyed Free will, nor any justice would there be In having joy for good, or grief for evil.

The heavens your movements do initiate, I say not all; but granting that I say it, Light has been given you for good and evil, And free volition; which, if some fatigue In the first battles with the heavens it suffers, Afterwards conquers all, if well ’tis nurtured.

To greater force and to a better nature, Though free, ye subject are, and that creates The mind in you the heavens have not in charge.

Hence, if the present world doth go astray, In you the cause is, be it sought in you;

And I therein will now be thy true spy.

Forth from the hand of Him, who fondles it Before it is, like to a little girl Weeping and laughing in her childish sport, Issues the simple soul, that nothing knows, Save that, proceeding from a joyous Maker, Gladly it turns to that which gives it pleasure.

Of trivial good at first it tastes the savour;

Is cheated by it, and runs after it, If guide or rein turn not aside its love.

Hence it behoved laws for a rein to place, Behoved a king to have, who at the least Of the true city should discern the tower.

The laws exist, but who sets hand to them?

No one; because the shepherd who precedes Can ruminate, but cleaveth not the hoof;

Wherefore the people that perceives its guide Strike only at the good for which it hankers, Feeds upon that, and farther seeketh not.

Clearly canst thou perceive that evil guidance The cause is that has made the world depraved, And not that nature is corrupt in you.

Rome, that reformed the world, accustomed was Two suns to have, which one road and the other, Of God and of the world, made manifest.

One has the other quenched, and to the crosier The sword is joined, and ill beseemeth it That by main force one with the other go, Because, being joined, one feareth not the other;

If thou believe not, think upon the grain, For by its seed each herb is recognized.

In the land laved by Po and Adige, Valour and courtesy used to be found, Before that Frederick had his controversy;

Now in security can pass that way Whoever will abstain, through sense of shame, From speaking with the good, or drawing near them.

True, three old men are left, in whom upbraids The ancient age the new, and late they deem it That God restore them to the better life: Currado da Palazzo, and good Gherardo, And Guido da Castel, who better named is, In fashion of the French, the simple Lombard: Say thou henceforward that the Church of Rome, Confounding in itself two governments, Falls in the mire, and soils itself and burden.

” “O Marco mine,” I said, “thou reasonest well;

And now discern I why the sons of Levi Have been excluded from the heritage.

But what Gherardo is it, who, as sample Of a lost race, thou sayest has remained In reprobation of the barbarous age?

” “Either thy speech deceives me, or it tempts me,” He answered me; “for speaking Tuscan to me, It seems of good Gherardo naught thou knowest.

By other surname do I know him not, Unless I take it from his daughter Gaia.

May God be with you, for I come no farther.

Behold the dawn, that through the smoke rays out, Already whitening; and I must depart— Yonder the Angel is—ere he appear.

” Thus did he speak, and would no farther hear me.