Authors: Dante
Purgatorio (18 page)
There are no shades nor any carvings—
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only the bank and the bare road
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with the livid color of the stone.
‘If we linger here to ask directions,’
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the poet reasoned, ‘before we choose our way,
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I fear we may be long delayed.’
Then he fixed his eyes upon the sun
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and made a pivot of the right side of his body
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on which he swung his left side forward.
‘O sweet light, in whose help I trust
as I set out upon this unknown road,’ he said,
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‘give us whatever guidance here is needed.
‘You shed your light upon the world and warm it.
Unless we find good reason to do other,
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your rays must always be our guide.’
We had already gone as far
as here on earth would count a mile—
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but quickly, for our will was eager—
when, flying toward us, spirits could be heard,
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but not seen, sounding courteous invitation
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to the table readied for the feast of love.
The first voice, flying by,
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called loudly:
‘Vinum non habent’
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and, having passed, called out the same again.
Before it was quite out of hearing
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in the distance, there came another, crying:
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‘I am Orestes,’ and it also did not stay.
‘O father,’ I said, ‘what voices are these?’
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And as I asked there came a third voice, saying:
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‘Love him who has done you wrong.’
And the good master said: ‘This circle
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scourges the sin of envy, and thus
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the cords of the scourge are drawn from love.
‘To rein in envy requires opposing notes.
Such other voices you will hear, I think,
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before you reach the pass of pardon.
‘Now fix your sight more steady through the air
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and you will make out figures sitting there
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in front of us along the rock.’
Then, opening my eyes still wider,
I looked ahead and now could see
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shades wearing cloaks the color of the stone.
We had gone a little farther on,
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when I heard voices crying: ‘Mary, pray for us,’
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then ‘Michael,’ ‘Peter,’ and ‘All saints.’
I do not think there walks on earth today
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a man so hard that he would not have been
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transfixed by pity at what I saw next,
for when I had drawn close enough
so that their state grew clear to me
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my eyes were overwhelmed by grief.
They appeared covered with coarse haircloth.
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Each propped up another with his shoulder,
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and all of them were propped against the rock.
Just so the blind who lack for daily bread
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at pardons take their place to beg for what they need,
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one letting his head fall on another’s shoulder
so that he may more quickly prompt to pity,
not only with the words that he is saying
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but with his looks, which plead no less.
And as the sun is of no profit to the blind,
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so Heaven’s light denies its bounty
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to the shades in the place of which I speak,
for iron wire pierces all their eyelids,
stitching them together, as is done
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to the untrained falcon because it won’t be calmed.
As I went on, it seemed to me that seeing others,
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without my being seen, offended them,
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so that I turned to my wise counsel.
Well he knew what my silence meant to say
and did not wait to hear me ask, but said:
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‘Speak, yet be brief and to the point.’
Virgil, moving along beside me on the terrace,
was at the edge, where one might fall
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because no parapet encircled it.
At my other side were the shades in prayer
who, through those dreadful seams,
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were wringing tears that bathed their cheeks.
I turned to them and I began:
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‘O people assured of seeing light on high—
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sole object stirring your desire—
‘so grace may soon dissolve the scum
that fouls your conscience, and the stream
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of memory flow through it pure,
‘tell me, for I shall hold it courteous and dear,
if any soul among you is Italian.
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Perhaps for me to know might profit such a one.’
‘O my brother, all of us are citizens
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of the one true city. What you mean to say is,
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“who, while still a pilgrim, lived in Italy.” ’
This it seemed to me I heard in answer
farther along from where I stood,
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and I made myself heard by moving closer.
Among the rest I saw a shade that looked expectant,
and if any should ask ‘how?’, it was raising
‘Spirit,’ I said, ‘who abase yourself to climb,
if you were the one who answered me,
‘I was of Siena,’ replied the shade,
‘and with these others here I mend my sinful life,
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weeping to Him that He may lend Himself to us.
‘Sapìa was my name, though I was far from wise,
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for I rejoiced much more at harm done others
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than at my own good fortune.
‘And, so that you know I do not lie,
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hear me out when I tell how mad I was,
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with the arc of my years already in decline.
‘My townsmen were near Colle,
engaged in battle with their enemies, and I prayed
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that God let happen what in fact He willed.
‘When they were routed and turned back
in bitter steps of flight, I watched the chase,
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my heart filled with such boundless joy
‘that recklessly I turned my face to God,
crying: “Now I do not fear you any more,”
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as the blackbird said after a glint of sunshine.
‘I sought my peace with God
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at the very last, and penitence
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would not have yet reduced the debt
‘had it not been for Peter the comb-seller,
who in his charity was grieved for me
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and remembered me in his devout petitions.
‘But who are you who walk about inquiring
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of our condition, with your eyes not sewn,
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as I suspect, and speak with breath?’
‘My eyes,’ I said, ‘will yet be taken
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from me here, but for a short while only,
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for small is their offense in looks of envy.
‘Greater is the fear, which fills my soul with dread,
of torments lower down, those heavy loads—
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I can almost feel their weight upon me now.’
And she: ‘Who has led you here among us,
if you think that you’ll return below?’ And I:
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‘He that is with me here and does not speak.
‘I am alive, and therefore ask of me,
you chosen spirit, if you would have me move
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my mortal feet for your sake back on earth.’
‘Oh,’ she replied, ‘how wonderful it is to hear
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of this great token of God’s love for you.
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Since it is so, aid me sometime with a prayer.
‘And I entreat you by what you most desire,
if ever you tread the soil of Tuscany,
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to restore my name among my kinfolk.