Canto V   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—They meet with others, who had deferred their repentance till overtaken by a violent death, when sufficient space being allowed them, they were then saved; and among these, Giacopo del Cassero, Buonconte da Montefeltro, and Pia, a lady of Siena.   
    
    
NOW had I left those spirits, and pursued      
The steps of my conductor; when behind,      
Pointing the finger at me, one exclaim’d:      
“See, how it seems as if the light not shone      
From the left hand  1 of him beneath,  2 and he,           5   
As living, seems to be led on.” Mine eyes,      
I at that sound reverting, saw them gaze,      
Through wonder, first at me; and then at me      
And the light broken underneath, by turns.      
“Why are thy thoughts thus riveted,” my guide           10   
Exclaim’d, “that thou hast slack’d thy pace? or how      
Imports it thee, what thing is whisper’d here?      
Come after me, and to their babblings leave      
The crowd. Be as a tower, that, firmly set,      
Shakes not its top for any blast that blows.           15   
He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out,      
Still of his aim is wide, in that the one      
Sicklies and wastes to naught the other’s strength.”      
  What other could I answer, save “I come”?      
I said it, somewhat with that color tinged,           20   
Which oft-times pardon meriteth for man.      
  Meanwhile traverse along the hill there came,      
A little way before us, some who sang      
The “Miserere” in responsive strains.      
When they perceived that through my body I           25   
Gave way not for the rays to pass, their song      
Straight to a long and hoarse exclaim they changed;      
And two of them, in guise of messengers,      
Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask’d:      
“Of your condition we would gladly learn.”           30   
  To them my guide: “Ye may return, and bear      
Tidings to them who sent you, that his frame      
Is real flesh. If, as I deem, to view      
His shade they paused, enough is answer’d them:      
Him let them honor: they may prize him well.”           35   
  Ne’er saw I fiery vapors with such speed      
Cut through the serene air at fall of night,      
Nor August’s clouds athwart the setting sun,      
That upward these did not in shorter space      
Return; and, there arriving, with the rest           40   
Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.      
  “Many,” exclaim’d the bard, “are these, who throng      
Around us: to petition thee, they come.      
Go therefore on, and listen as thou go’st.”      
  “O spirit! who go’st on to blessedness,           45   
With the same limbs that clad thee at thy birth,”      
Shouting they came: “a little rest thy step.      
Look, if thou any one amongst our tribe      
Hast e’er beheld, that tidings of him there 3      
Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go’st thou on?           50   
Ah, wherefore tarriest thou not? We all      
By violence died, and to our latest hour      
Were sinners, but then warn’d by light from Heaven;      
So that, repenting and forgiving, we      
Did issue out of life at peace with God,           55   
Who, with desire to see Him, fills our heart.”      
  Then I: “The visages of all I scan,      
Yet none of ye remember. But if aught      
That I can do may please you, gentle spirits!      
Speak, and I will perform it; by that peace,           60   
Which, on the steps of guide so excellent      
Following, from world to world, intent I seek.”      
  In answer he began: “None here distrusts      
Thy kindness, though not promised with an oath;      
So as the will fail not for want of power.           65   
Whence I, who sole before the other speak,      
Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land 4      
Which lies between Romagna and the realm      
Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray      
Those who inhabit Fano, that for me           70   
Their adorations duly be put up,      
By which I may purge off my grievous sins.      
From thence I came. 5 But the deep passages,      
Whence issued out the blood 6 wherein I dwelt,      
Upon my bosom in Antenor’s land 7           75   
Were made, where to be more secure I thought.      
The author of the deed was Este’s prince,      
Who, more than right could warrant, with his wrath      
Pursued me. Had I toward Mira fled,      
When overta’en at Oriaco, still           80   
Might I have breathed. But to the marsh I sped;      
And in the mire and rushes tangled there      
Fell, and beheld my life-blood float the plain.”      
  Then said another: “Ah! so may the wish,      
That takes thee o’er the mountain, be fulfill’d,           85   
As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.      
Of Montefeltro I; 8 Buonconte I:      
Giovanna 9 nor none else have care for me;      
Sorrowing with these I therefore go.” I thus:      
“From Campaldino’s field what force or chance           90   
Drew thee, that ne’er thy sepulture was known?”      
  “Oh!” answer’d he, “at Casentino’s foot      
A stream there courseth, named Archiano, sprung      
In Apennine above the hermit’s seat. 10      
E’en where its name is cancel’d, 11 there came I,           95   
Pierced in the throat, fleeing away on foot,      
And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech      
Fail’d me; and, finishing with Mary’s name,      
I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain’d.      
I will report the truth; which thou again           100   
Tell to the living. Me God’s angel took,      
Whilst he of Hell exclaim’d: ‘O thou from Heaven!      
Say wherefore hast thou robb’d me? Thou of him      
The eternal portion bear’st with thee away,      
For one poor tear that he deprives me of.           105   
But of the other, other rule I make.’      
  “Thou know’st how in the atmosphere collects      
That vapour dank, returning into water      
Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.      
That evil will, 12 which in his intellect           110   
Still follows evil, came; and raised the wind      
And smoky mist, by virtue of the power      
Given by his nature. Thence the valley, soon      
As day was spent, he cover’d o’er with cloud,      
From Pratomagno to the mountain range; 13           115   
And stretch’d the sky above; so that the air      
Impregnate changed to water. Fell the rain;      
And to the fosses came all that the land      
Contain’d not; and, as mightiest streams are wont,      
To the great river, with such headlong sweep,           120   
Rush’d, that naught stay’d its course. My stiffen’d frame      
Laid at his mouth, the fell Archiano found,      
And dashed it into Arno; from my breast      
Loosening the cross, that of myself I made      
When overcome with pain. He hurl’d me on,           125   
Along the banks and bottom of his course;      
Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt.”      
  “Ah! when thou to the world shalt be return’d,      
And rested after thy long road,” so spake      
Next the third spirit; “then remember me.           130   
I once was Pia. 14 Sienna gave me life;      
Maremma took it from me. That he knows,      
Who me with jewel’d ring had first espoused.”      
    
Note 1. The sun was, therefore, on the right of our travellers. For, as before, when seated and looking to the east whence they had ascended, the sun was on their left; so now that they are again going forward, it must be on the opposite side of them. [back]   
Note 2. Of Dante, following Virgil. [back]   
Note 3. “There.” Upon the earth. [back]   
Note 4. The Marca d’ Ancona, between Romagna and Apulia, the kingdom of Charles of Anjou. [back]   
Note 5. Giacopo del Cassero, a citizen of Fano, who having spoken ill of Azzo da Este, Marquis of Ferrara, was by his orders put to death. Giacopo was overtaken by the assassins at Oriaco, near the Brenta, whence, if he had fled toward Mira, higher up on that river, instead of making for the marsh on the sea-shore, he might have escaped. [back]   
Note 6. Supposed to be the seat of life. [back]   
Note 7. Padua, said to be founded by Antenor. This implies a reflection on the Paduans. See Hell, xxxii. 89. [back]   
Note 8. Buonconte, son of Guido da Montefeltro (see also the twenty-seventh canto of Hell), fell in the battle of Campaldino (1289), fighting on the side of the Aretini. In this engagement our Poet took a distinguished part. [back]   
Note 9. Wife or kinswoman of Buonconte. [back]   
Note 10. The hermitage of Camaldoli. [back]   
Note 11. Between Bibbiena and Poppi, where the Archiano joins the Arno. [back]   
Note 12. The Devil. This notion of the Evil Spirit having power over the elements, appears to have arisen from his being termed the “prince of the air,” in the New Testament. [back]   
Note 13. From Pratomagno, now called Prato Vecchio (which divides the Valdarno from Casentino), as far as to the Apennines. [back]   
Note 14. “Pia” She is said to have been a Siennese lady, of the family of Tolommei, secretly made away with by her husband, Nello della Pietra, of the same city, in Maremma, where he had some possessions

Canto VI   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Many besides, who are in like case with those spoken of in the last Canto, beseech our Poet to obtain for them the prayers of their friends, when he shall be returned to this world. This moves him to express a doubt to his guide, how the dead can be profited by the prayers of the living; for the solution of which doubt he is referred to Beatrice. Afterward he meets with Sordello the Mantuan, whose affection, shown to Virgil his countryman, leads Dante to break forth into an invective against the unnatural divisions with which Italy, and more especially Florence, was distracted.   
    
    
WHEN from their game of dice men separate,      
He who hath lost remains in sadness fix’d,      
Revolving in his mind what luckless throws      
He cast: but, meanwhile, all the company      
Go with the other; one before him runs,           5   
And one behind his mantle twitches, one      
Fast by his side bids him remember him.      
He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand      
Is stretch’d, well knows he bids him stand aside;      
And thus 1 he from the press defends himself.           10   
E’en such was I in that close-crowding throng;      
And turning so my face around to all,      
And promising, I ’scaped from it with pains.      
  Here of Arezzo him 2 I saw, who fell      
By Ghino’s cruel arm; and him beside, 3           15   
Who in his chase was swallow’d by the stream.      
Here Frederic Novello, 4 with his hand      
Stretch’d forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, 5      
Who put the good Marzucco to such proof      
Of constancy. Count Orso 6 I beheld;           20   
And from its frame a soul dismiss’d for spite      
And envy, as it said, but for no crime;      
I speak of Peter de la Brosse: 7 and here,      
While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant,      
Let her beware; lest for so false a deed           25   
She herd with worse than these. When I was freed      
From all those spirits, who pray’d for others’ prayers      
To hasten on their state of blessedness;      
Straight I began: “O thou, my luminary!      
It seems expressly in thy text denied,           30   
That Heaven’s supreme decree can ever bend      
To supplication; yet with this design      
Do these entreat. Can then their hope be vain?      
Or is thy saying not to me reveal’d?”      
  He thus to me: “Both what I write is plain,           35   
And these deceived not in their hope; if well      
Thy mind consider, that the sacred height      
Of judgment doth not stoop, because love’s flame      
In a short moment all fulfills, which he,      
Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy.           40   
Besides, when I this point concluded thus,      
By praying no defect could be supplied;      
Because the prayer had none access to God.      
Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not      
Contented, unless she assure thee so,           45   
Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light:      
I know not if thou take me right; I mean      
Beatrice. Her thou shalt behold above,      
Upon this mountain’s crown, fair seat of joy.”      
  Then I: “Sir! let us mend our speed; for now           50   
I tire not as before: and lo! the hill 8      
Stretches its shadow far.” He answer’d thus:      
“Our progress with this day shall be as much      
As we may now despatch; but otherwise      
Than thou supposest is the truth. For there           55   
Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold      
Him back returning, who behind the steep      
Is now so hidden, that, as erst, his beam      
Thou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there      
Stands solitary, and toward us looks:           60   
It will instruct us in the speediest way.”      
  We soon approach’d it. O thou Lombard spirit!      
How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood,      
Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes.      
It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass,           65   
Eying us as a lion on his watch.      
But Virgil, with entreaty mild, advanced,      
Requesting it to show the best ascent.      
It answer to his question none return’d;      
But of our country and our kind of life           70   
Demanded. When my courteous guide began,      
“Mantua,” the shadow, in itself absorb’d,      
Rose toward us from the place in which it stood,      
And cried, “Mantuan! I am thy countryman,      
Sordello.” 9 Each the other then embraced.           75   
  Ah, slavish Italy! thou inn of grief!      
Vessel without a pilot in loud storm!      
Lady no longer of fair provinces,      
But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit,      
Even from the pleasant sound of his dear land           80   
Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen      
With such glad cheer: while now thy living ones      
In thee abide not without war; and one      
Malicious gnaws another; ay, of those      
Whom the same wall and the same moat contains.           85   
Seek, wretched one! around the sea-coasts wide;      
Then homeward to thy bosom turn; and mark,      
If any part of thee sweet peace enjoy.      
What boots it, that thy reins Justinian’s hand      
Refitted, if thy saddle be unprest?           90   
Naught doth he now but aggravate thy shame.      
Ah, people! thou obedient still should’st live,      
And in the saddle let thy Cæsar sit,      
If well thou marked’st that which God commands.      
  Look how that beast to fellness hath relapsed,           95   
From having lost correction of the spur,      
Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand,      
O German Albert! 10 who abandon’st her      
That is grown savage and unmanageable,      
When thou shouldst clasp her flanks with forked heels.           100   
Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood;      
And be it strange and manifest to all;      
Such as may strike thy successor 11 with dread;      
For that thy sire 12 and thou have suffer’d thus,      
Through greediness of yonder realms detain’d,           105   
The garden of the empire to run waste.      
Come, see the Capulets and Montagues, 13      
The Filippeschi and Monaldi, 14 man      
Who carest for naught! those sunk in grief, and these      
With dire suspicion rack’d. Come, cruel one!           110   
Come, and behold the oppression of the nobles,      
And mark their injuries; and thou mayst see      
What safety Santafiore can supply. 15      
Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee,      
Desolate widow, day and night with moans,           115   
“My Cæsar, why dost thou desert my side?”      
Come, and behold what love among thy people:      
And if no pity touches thee for us,      
Come, and blush for thine own report. For me,      
If it be lawful, O Almighty Power!           120   
Who wast on earth for our sakes crucified,      
Are thy just eyes turn’d elsewhere? or is this      
A preparation, in the wondrous depth      
Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end,      
Entirely from our reach of thought cut off?           125   
So are the Italian cities all o’erthrong’d      
With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made      
Of every petty factious villager.      
  My Florence! thou mayst well remain unmoved      
At this digression, which affects not thee:           130   
Thanks to thy people, who so wisely speed.      
Many have justice in their heart, that long      
Waiteth for counsel to direct the bow,      
Or ere it dart unto its aim: but thine      
Have it on their lips’ edge. Many refuse           135   
To bear the common burdens: readier thine      
Answer uncall’d, and cry, “Behold I stoop!”      
  Make thyself glad, for thou hast reason now,      
Thou wealthy! thou at peace! thou wisdom-fraught!      
Facts best will witness if I speak the truth.           140   
Athens and Lacedæmon, who of old      
Enacted laws, for civil arts renown’d,      
Made little progress in improving life      
Toward thee, who usest such nice subtlety,      
That to the middle of November scarce           145   
Reaches the thread thou in October weavest.      
How many times within thy memory,      
Customs, and laws, and coins, and offices      
Have been by thee renew’d, and people changed.      
  If thou remember’st well and canst see clear,           150   
Thou wilt perceive thyself like a sick wretch,      
Who finds no rest upon her down, but oft      
Shifting her side, short respite seeks from pain.      
    
Note 1. “And thus.” It was usual for money to be given to bystanders at play by winners. [back]   
Note 2. Benincasa of Arezzo, eminent for his skill in jurisprudence, who having condemned to death Turrino da Turrita, brother of Ghino di Tacco, for his robberies in Maremma, was murdered by Ghino, in an apartment of his own house, in the presence of many witnesses. Ghino was not only suffered to escape in safety, but obtained so high a reputation by the liberality with which he dispensed the fruits of his plunder, and treated those who fell into his hands with so much courtesy, that he was afterward invited to Rome, and knighted by Boniface VIII. [back]   
Note 3. Cione, or Ciacco de’ Tarlatti of Arezzo, carried by his horse into the Arno, and there drowned, while in pursuit of enemies. [back]   
Note 4. “Frederic Novello.” Son of the Conte Guido da Battifolle, and slain by one of the family of Bostoli. [back]   
Note 5. Farinata de’ Scornigiani, of Pisa. His father, Marzucco, who had entered the order of the Frati Minori, so entirely overcame his resentment, that he even kissed the hands of the slayer of his son, and as he was following the funeral, exhorted his kinsmen to reconciliation. [back]   
Note 6. “Count Orso.” Son of Napoleone da Cerbaia, slain by Alberto da Mangona, his uncle. [back]   
Note 7. Secretary of Philip III of France. The courtiers envying the high place which he held in the King’s favor, prevailed on Mary of Brabant to charge him falsely with an attempt upon her person; for which supposed crime he suffered death. So say the Italian commentators. Henault represents the matter very differently: “Pierre de la Brosse, formerly barber to St. Louis, afterward the favorite of Philip, fearing the too great attachment of the King for his wife Mary, accuses this princess of having poisoned Louis, eldest son of Philip, by his first marriage. This calumny is discovered by a nun of Nivelle, in Flanders. La Brosse is hanged.” [back]   
Note 8. “The hill.” It was now past the moon. [back]   
Note 9. Sordello’s life is wrapt in obscurity. He distinguished himself by his skill in Provençal poetry and many feats of military prowess have been attributed to him. It is probable that he was born at the end of the twelfth, and died about the middle of the succeeding, century. [back]   
Note 10. The Emperor Albert I succeeded Adolphus in 1298, and was murdered in 1308. See Paradise, Canto xix. 114. [back]   
Note 11. Henry of Luxemburg, by whose interposition in the affairs of Italy our Poet hoped to have been reinstated in his native city. [back]   
Note 12. The Emperor Rodolph, too intent on increasing his power in Germany to give much of his thoughts to Italy, “the garden of the empire.” [back]   
Note 13. Two powerful Ghibelline families of Verona. [back]   
Note 14. Two rival families in Orvieto. [back]   
Note 15. A place between Pisa and Siena.

   
Canto VII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—The approach of night hindering further ascent, Sordello conducts our Poet apart to an eminence, from whence they behold a pleasant recess, in form of a flowery valley, scooped out of the mountain; where are many famous spirits, and among them the Emperor Rodolph, Ottocar, King of Bohemia, Philip III of France, Henry of Navarre, Peter III of Arragon, Charles I of Naples, Henry III of England, and William, Marquis of Montferrat.   
    
    
AFTER their courteous greetings joyfully      
Seven times exchanged, Sordello backward drew      
Exclaiming, “Who are ye?”—“Before this amount      
By spirits worthy of ascent to God      
Was sought, my bones had by Octavius’ care           5   
Been buried. I am Virgil; for no sin      
Deprived of Heaven, except for lack of faith.”      
So answer’d him in few my gentle guide.      
  As one, who aught before him suddenly      
Beholding, whence his wonder riseth, cries,           10   
“It is, yet is not,” wavering in belief;      
Such he appear’d; then downward bent his eyes,      
And, drawing near with reverential step,      
Caught him, where one of mean estate might clasp      
His lord. “Glory of Latium!” he exclaim’d,           15   
“In whom our tongue its utmost power display’d;      
Boast of my honor’d birth-place! what desert      
Of mine, what favour, rather, undeserved,      
Shows thee to me? If I to hear that voice      
Am worthy, say if from below thou comest,           20   
And from what cloister’s pale.”—“Through every orb      
Of that sad region,” he replied, “thus far      
Am I arrived, by heavenly influence led:      
And with such aid I come. Not for my doing,      
But for not doing, have I lost the sight           25   
Of that high Sun, whom thou desirest, and who      
By me too late was known. There is a place 1      
There underneath, not made by torments sad,      
But by dun shades alone; where mourning’s voice      
Sounds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs.           30   
There I with little innocents abide,      
Who by death’s fangs were bitten, ere exempt      
From human taint. There I with those abide,      
Who the three holy virtues 2 put not on,      
But understood the rest, 3 and without blame           35   
Follow’d them all. But, if thou know’st, and canst,      
Direct us how we soonest may arrive,      
Where Purgatory its true beginning takes.”      
  He answer’d thus: “We have no certain place      
Assign’d us: upward I may go, or round.           40   
Far as I can, I join thee for thy guide.      
But thou beholdest now how day declines;      
And upward to proceed by night, our power      
Excels: therefore it may be well to choose      
A place of pleasant sojourn. To the right           45   
Some spirits sit apart retired. If thou      
Consentest, I to these will lead thy steps:      
And thou wilt know them, not without delight,”      
  “How chances this?” was answer’d: “whoso wish’d      
To ascend by night, would he be thence debarr’d           50   
By other, or through his own weakness fail?”      
  The good Sordello then, along the ground      
Trailing his finger, spoke: “Only this line      
Thou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun      
Hath disappear’d; not that aught else impedes           55   
Thy going upward, save the shades of night.      
These, with the want of power, perplex the will.      
With them thou haply mightst return beneath,      
Or to and fro around the mountain’s side      
Wander, while day is in the horizon shut.”           60   
  My master straight, as wondering at his speech,      
Exclaim’d: “Then lead us quickly, where thou sayst      
That, while we stay, we may enjoy delight.”      
  A little space we were removed from thence,      
When I perceived the mountain hollow’d out,           65   
Even as large valleys hollow’d out on earth.      
  “That way,” the escorting spirit cried, “we go,      
Where in a bosom the high bank recedes:      
And thou await renewal of the day.”      
  Betwixt the steep and plain, a crooked path           70   
Led us traverse into the ridge’s side,      
Where more than half the sloping edge expires.      
Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refined,      
And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood      
Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds           75   
But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers      
Placed in that fair recess, in color all      
Had been surpass’d, as great surpasses less.      
Nor nature only there lavish’d her hues,      
But of the sweetness of a thousand smells           80   
A rare and undistinguish’d fragrance made.      
  “Salve Regina,” 4 on the grass and flowers,      
Here chanting, I beheld those spirits sit,      
Who not beyond the valley could be seen.      
  “Before the westering sun sink to his bed,”           85   
Began the Mantuan, who our steps had turn’d,      
“’Mid those, desire not that I lead ye on.      
For from this eminence ye shall discern      
Better the acts and visages of all,      
Than, in the nether vale, among them mix’d.           90   
He, who sits high above the rest, and seems      
To have neglected that he should have done,      
And to the others’ song moves not his lip,      
The Emperor Rodolph call, who might have heal’d      
The wounds whereof fair Italy hath died,           95   
So that by others she revives but slowly.      
He, who with kindly visage comforts him,      
Sway’d in that country, 5 where the water springs,      
That Moldaw’s river to the Elbe, and Elbe      
Rolls to the ocean: Ottocar 6 his name:           100   
Who in his swaddling-clothes was of more worth      
Than Wenceslaus his son, a bearded man,      
Pamper’d with rank luxuriousness and ease.      
And that one with the nose deprest, 7 who close      
In counsel seems with him of gentle look, 8           105   
Flying expired, withering the lily’s flower.      
Look there, how he doth knock against his breast.      
The other ye behold, who for his cheek      
Makes of one hand a couch, with frequent sighs.      
They are the father and the father-in-law           110   
Of Gallia’s bane: 9 his vicious life they know      
And foul; thence comes the grief that rends them thus.      
“He, so robust of limb, 10 who measure keeps      
In song with him of feature prominent, 11      
With every virtue bore his girdle braced.           115   
And if that stripling, 12 who behind sits,      
King after him had lived, his virtue then      
From vessel to like vessel had been pour’d;      
Which may not of the other heirs be said.      
By James and Frederick his realms are held;           120   
Neither the better heritage obtains.      
Rarely into the branches of the tree      
Doth human worth mount up: and so ordains      
He who bestows it, that as His free gift      
It may be call’d. To Charles 13 my words apply           125   
No less than to his brother in song;      
Which Pouille and Provence now with grief confess.      
So much that plant degenerates from its seed,      
As, more than Beatrix and Margaret,      
Costanza, 14 still boasts of her valorous spouse.           130   
  “Behold the King of simple life and plain,      
Harry of England, 15 sitting there alone:      
He through his branches better issue 16 spreads.      
  “That one, who, on the ground, beneath the rest,      
Sits lowest, yet his gaze directs aloft,           135   
Is William, that brave Marquis, 17 for whose cause,      
The deed of Alexandria and his war      
Makes Montferrat and Canavese weep.”      
    
Note 1. Limbo. See Hell, Canto iv. 24. [back]   
Note 2. Faith, Hope, and Charity. [back]   
Note 3. “The rest.” Prudence, Justice, Fortitude, and Temperance. [back]   
Note 4. “Salve Regina.” The beginning of a prayer to the Virgin. [back]   
Note 5. “That country.” Bohemia. [back]   
Note 6. “Ottocar.” King of Bohemia, who was killed in the battle of Marchfield, fought with Rodolph, August 26, 1278. Wenceslaus II, his son, who succeeded him in the Kingdom of Bohemia, died in 1305. The latter is again taxed with luxury in the Paradise, xix. 123. [back]   
Note 7. “That one with the nose deprest.” Philip III, of France, father of Philip IV. He died in 1285, at Perpignan, in his retreat from Arragon. [back]   
Note 8. “Him of gentle look.” Henry of Navarre, father of Jane, married to Philip IV, of France, whom Dante calls “mal di Francia.”—“Gallia’s bane.” [back]   
Note 9. “Gallia’s bane.” G. Villani, lib. vii. cap. cxlvi, speaks with equal resentment of Philip IV. “In 1291, on the night of the calends of May, Philip le Bel, King of France, by advice of Biccio and Musciatto Franzesi, ordered all the Italians, who were in his country and realm, to be seized, under pretence of seizing the money-lenders, but thus he caused the good merchants also to be seized and ransomed; for which he was much blamed and held in great abhorrence. And from thenceforth the realm of France fell evermore into degradation and decline. And it is observable that between the taking of Acre and this seizure in France, the merchants of Florence received great damage and ruin of their property.” [back]   
Note 10. “He, so robust of limb.” Peter III, called the Great, King of Arragon, who died in 1285, leaving four sons, Alonzo, James, Frederick, and Peter. The two former succeeded him in the Kingdom of Arragon, and Frederick in that of Sicily. [back]   
Note 11. “Him of feature prominent.” “Dal maschio naso”—“with the masculine nose.” Charles I, King of Naples, Count of Anjou, and brother of St. Louis. He died in 1284. The annalist of Florence remarks that “there had been no sovereign of the house of France, since the time of Charlemagne, by whom Charles was surpassed either in military renown and prowess, or in the loftiness of his understanding.” [back]   
Note 12. “That stripling.” Either (as the old commentators suppose) Alonzo III, King of Arragon, the eldest son of Peter III, who died in 1291, at the age of 27; or, according to Venturi, Peter, the youngest son. The former was a young prince of virtue sufficient to have justified the eulogium and the hopes of Dante. [back]   
Note 13. “To Charles.” “Al Nausto”—Charles II, King of Naples, is no less inferior to his father, Charles I, than James and Frederick to theirs, Peter III. [back]   
Note 14. “Costanza.” Widow of Peter III. She has been already mentioned in the third Canto, v. 112. By Beatrix and Margaret are probably meant two of the daughters of Raymond Berenger, Count of Provence; the latter married to St. Louis of France, the former to his brother Charles of Anjou, King of Naples. See Paradise, Canto vi. 135. Dante therefore considers Peter as the most illustrious of the three monarchs. [back]   
Note 15. “Harry of England.” Henry III. The contemporary annalist speaks of this king in similar terms. G. Villani, lib. v. cap. iv. “From Richard was born Henry, who reigned after him, who was a plain man of good faith, but of little courage.” [back]   
Note 16. “Better issue.” Edward I, of whose glory our Poet was perhaps a witness, in his visit to England. “From the said Henry was born the good King Edward, who reigns in our times, who has done great things, whereof we shall make mention in due place.”—G. Villani, ibid. [back]   
Note 17. “William, that brave Marquis.” William, Marquis of Montferrat, was treacherously seized by his own subjects, at Alessandria in Lombardy, A. D. 1290, and ended his life in prison. A war ensued between the people of Alessandria and those of Montferrat and the Canavese, now part of Piedmont

   
Canto VIII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Two Angels, with flaming swords broken at the points, descend to keep watch over the valley, into which Virgil and Dante entering by desire of Sordello, our Poet meets with joy the spirit of Nino, the judge of Gallura, one who was well known to him. Meantime three exceedingly bright stars appear near the pole, and a serpent creeps subtly into the valley, but flees at hearing the approach of those angelic guards. Lastly, Conrad Malaspina predicts to our Poet his future banishment.   
    
    
NOW was the hour that wakens fond desire      
In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart      
Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,      
And pilgrim newly on his road with love      
Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far,           5   
That seems to mourn for the expiring day:      
When I, no longer taking heed to hear,      
Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark      
One risen from its seat, which with its hand      
Audience implored. Both palms it join’d and raised,           10   
Fixing its steadfast gaze toward the east,      
As telling God, “I care for naught beside.”      
  “Te Lucis Ante,” 1 so devoutly then      
Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain,      
That all my sense in ravishment was lost.           15   
And the rest after, softly and devout,      
Follow’d through all the hymn, with upward gaze      
Directed to the bright supernal wheels.      
  Here, reader! for the truth make thine eyes keen:      
For of so subtle texture is this veil,           20   
That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark’d.      
  I saw that gentle band silently next      
Look up, as if in expectation held,      
Pale and in lowly guise; and, from on high,      
I saw, forth issuing descend beneath,           25   
Two Angels, with two flame-illumined swords,      
Broken and mutilated of their points.      
Green as the tender leaves but newly born,      
Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green      
Beaten, they drew behind them, fann’d in air.           30   
A little over us one took his stand;      
The other lighted on the opposing hill;      
So that the troop were in the midst contain’d.      
  Well I descried the whiteness on their heads;      
But in their visages the dazzled eye           35   
Was lost, as faculty that by too much      
Is overpower’d. “From Mary’s bosom both      
Are come,” exclaim’d Sordello, “as a guard      
Over the vale, ’gainst him who hither tends,      
The serpent.” Whence, not knowing by which path           40   
He came, I turn’d me round; and closely press’d,      
All frozen, to my leader’s trusted side.      
  Sordello paused not: “To the valley now      
(For it is time) let us descend; and hold      
Converse with those great shadows: haply much           45   
Their sight may please ye.” Only three steps down      
Methinks I measured, ere I was beneath,      
And noted one who look’d as with desire      
To know me. Time was now that air grew dim;      
Yet not so dim, that, ’twixt his eyes and mine,           50   
It clear’d not up what was conceal’d before.      
Mutually toward each other we advanced.      
Nino, thou courteous judge! 2 what joy I felt,      
When I perceived thou wert not with the bad.      
  No salutation kind on either part           55   
Was left unsaid. He then inquired: “How long,      
Since thou arrived’st at the mountain’s foot,      
Over the distant waves?”—“Oh!” answer’d I,      
“Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came;      
And still in my first life, thus journeying on,           60   
The other strive to gain.” Soon as they heard      
My words, he and Sordello backward drew,      
As suddenly amazed. To Virgil one,      
The other to a spirit turn’d, who near      
Was seated, crying: “Conrad! 3 up with speed:           65   
Come, see what of His grace high God hath will’d.”      
Then turning round to me: “By that rare mark      
Of honour, which thou owest to Him, who hides      
So deeply His first cause it hath no ford;      
When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves,           70   
Tell my Giovanna, 4 that for me she call      
There, where reply to innocence is made.      
Her mother, 5 I believe, loves me no more;      
Since she has changed the white and wimpled folds, 6      
Which she is doom’d once more with grief to wish.           75   
By her it easily may be perceived,      
How long in woman lasts the flame of love,      
If sight and touch do not relume it oft.      
For her so fair a burial will not make      
The viper, 7 which calls Milan to the field,           80   
As had been made by shrill Gallura’s bird.” 8      
  He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp      
Of that right zeal, which with due temperature      
Glows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes      
Meanwhile to Heaven had travel’d, even there           85   
Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel      
Nearest the axle; when my guide inquired:      
“What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?”      
  I answer’d: “The three torches, 9 with which here      
The pole is all on fire.” He then to me:           90   
“The four resplendent stars, thou saw’st this morn,      
Are there beneath; and these, risen in their stead.”      
  While yet he spoke, Sordello to himself      
Drew him, and cried: “Lo there our enemy!”      
And with his hand pointed that way to look.           95   
  Along the side, where barrier none arose      
Around the little vale, a serpent lay,      
Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food.      
Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake      
Came on, reverting oft his lifted head;           100   
And, as a beast that smooths its polish’d coat,      
Licking his back. I saw not, nor can tell,      
How those celestial falcons from their seat      
Moved, but in motion each one well described.      
Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes,           105   
The serpent fled; and, to their stations, back      
The Angels up return’d with equal flight.      
  The spirit, (who to Nino, when he call’d,      
Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken,      
Through all that conflict, loosen’d not his sight.           110   
  “So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high,      
Find, in thy free resolve, of wax so much,      
As may suffice thee to the enamel’d height.”      
It thus began: “If any certain news      
Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part           115   
Thou know’st, tell me, who once was mighty there.      
They call’d me Conrad Malaspina; not      
That old one, but from him I sprang. The love      
I bore my people is now here refined.”      
  “In your domains,” I answer’d, “ne’er was I.           120   
But, through all Europe, where do those men dwell,      
To whom their glory is not manifest?      
The fame, that honours your illustrious house,      
Proclaims the nobles, and proclaims the land;      
So that he knows it, who was never there.           125   
I swear to you, so may my upward route      
Prosper, your honoured nation not impairs      
The value of her coffer and her sword.      
Nature and use give her such privilege,      
That while the world is twisted from his course           130   
By a bad head, she only walks aright,      
And has the evil way in scorn.” He then:      
“Now pass thee on: seven times the tired sun 10      
Revisits not the couch, which with the four feet      
The forked Aries covers, ere that kind           135   
Opinion shall be nail’d into thy brain      
With stronger nails than other’s speech can drive;      
If the sure course of judgment be not stay’d.”      
    
Note 1. “Te lucis ante terminum,” the first verse of the hymn in the last part of the sacred office, termed “complin.”] [back]   
Note 2. Nino di Gallura de’ Visconti, nephew to Count Ugolino de’ Gherardeschi, and betrayed by him. [back]   
Note 3. Father to Marcello Malaspina. [back]   
Note 4. The daughter of Nino, and wife of Riccardo da Camino, of Trevigi. [back]   
Note 5. “Her mother.” Beatrice, Marchioness of Este, wife of Nino, and after his death married to Galeazzo de’ Visconti of Milan. [back]   
Note 6. The weeds of widowhood. [back]   
Note 7. The arms of Galeazzo and the ensign of the Milanese. [back]   
Note 8. The cock was the ensign of Gallura, Nino’s province in Sardinia. It is not known whether Beatrice had any further cause to regret her nuptials with Galeazzo, than a certain shame which appears, however unreasonably, to have attached to a second marriage. [back]   
Note 9. The three evangelical virtues, Faith, Hope and Charity, are supposed to rise in the evening, to denote their belonging to the contemplative; as the four others are made to rise in the morning to signify their belonging to the active life: or perhaps it may mark the succession, in order of time, of the Gospel to the heathen system of morality. [back]   
Note 10. The sun shall not enter into the constellation of Aries seven times more, before thou shalt have still better cause for the good opinion thou expressest of Valdimagra, in the kind reception thou shalt there meet with.” Dante was hospitably received by the Marchese Marcello, or Morello Malaspina, during his banishment, A. D. 1307

Canto IX   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Dante is carried up the mountain, asleep and dreaming, by Lucia; and, on awakening, finds himself, two hours after sunrise, with Virgil, near the gate of Purgatory, through which they are admitted by the Angel deputed by St. Peter to keep it.   
    
    
NOW the fair consort of Tithonus old,      
Arisen from her name’s beloved arms,      
Look’d palely o’er the eastern cliff; her brow,      
Lucent with jewels, glitter’d, set in sign      
Of that chill animal,  1 who with his train           5   
Smites fearful nations: and where then we were,      
Two steps of her ascent the night had past;      
And now the third was closing up its wing,  2      
When I, who had so much of Adam with me,      
Sank down upon the grass, o’ercome with sleep,           10   
There where all five  3 were seated. In that hour,      
When near the dawn the swallow her sad lay,      
Remembering haply ancient grief,  4 renews;      
And when our minds, more wanderers from the flesh,      
And less by thought restrain’d are, as ’t were, full           15   
Of holy divination in their dreams;      
Then, in a vision, did I seem to view      
A golden-feather’d eagle in the sky,      
With open wings, and hovering for descent;      
And I was in that place, methought, from whence           20   
Young Ganymede, from his associates ’reft,      
Was snatch’d aloft to the high consistory.      
“Perhaps,” thought I within me, “here alone      
He strikes his quarry, and elsewhere disdains      
To pounce upon the prey.” Therewith, it seem’d,           25   
A little wheeling in his aëry tour,      
Terrible as the lightning, rush’d he down,      
And snatch’d me upward even to the fire.      
There both, I thought, the eagle and myself      
Did burn; and so intense the imagined flames,           30   
That needs my sleep was broken off. As erst      
Achilles shook himself, and round him roll’d      
His waken’d eyeballs, wondering where he was,      
Whenas his mother had from Chiron fled      
To Scyros, with him sleeping in her arms;           35   
There whence the Greeks did after sunder him;      
E’en thus I shook me, soon as from my face      
The slumber parted, turning deadly pale,      
Like one ice-struck with dread. Sole at my side      
My comfort stood: and the bright sun was now           40   
More than two hours aloft: and to the sea      
My looks were turn’d. “Fear not,” my master cried,      
“Assured we are at happy point. Thy strength      
Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come      
To Purgatory now. Lo! there the cliff           45   
That circling bounds it. Lo! the entrance there,      
Where it doth seem disparted. Ere the dawn      
Usher’d the day-light, when thy wearied soul      
Slept in thee, o’er the flowery vale beneath      
A lady came, and thus bespake me: ‘I           50   
Am Lucia. 5 Suffer me to take this man,      
Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.’      
Sordello and the other gentle shapes      
Tarrying, she bare thee up: and, as day shone,      
This summit reach’d: and I pursued her steps.           55   
Here did she place thee. First, her lovely eyes      
That open entrance show’d me; then at once      
She vanish’d with thy sleep.” Like one, whose doubts      
Are chased by certainty, and terror turn’d      
To comfort on discovery of the truth,           60   
Such was the change in me: and as my guide      
Beheld me fearless, up along the cliff      
He moved, and I behind him, toward the height.      
  Reader! thou markest how my theme doth rise;      
Nor wonder therefore, if more artfully           65   
I prop the structure. Nearer now we drew,      
Arrived whence, in that part, where first a breach      
As of a wall appear’d, I could descry      
A portal, and three steps beneath, that led      
For inlet there, of different colour each;           70   
And one who watch’d, but spake not yet a word.      
As more and more mine eye did stretch its view,      
I mark’d him seated on the highest step,      
In visage such, as past my power to bear.      
Grasp’d in his hand, a naked sword glanced back           75   
The rays so toward me, that I oft in vain      
My sight directed. “Speak, from whence ye stand;”      
He cried: “What would ye? Where is your escort?      
Take heed your coming upward harm ye not.”      
  “A heavenly dame, not skill-less of these things,”           80   
Replied the instructor, “told us, even now,      
‘Pass that way: here the gate is.’”—“And may she,      
Befriending, prosper your ascent,” resumed      
The courteous keeper of the gate: “Come then      
Before our steps.” We straightway thither came.           85   
  The lowest stair 6 was marble white, so smooth      
And polish’d, that therein my mirror’d form      
Distinct I saw. The next of hue more dark      
Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block,      
Crack’d lengthwise and across. The third, that lay           90   
Massy above, seem’d porphyry, that flamed      
Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein.      
On this God’s angel either foot sustain’d,      
Upon the threshold seated, which appear’d      
A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps           95   
My leader cheerly drew me. “Ask,” said he,      
“With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt.”      
  Piously at his holy feet devolved      
I cast me, praying him for pity’s sake      
That he would open to me; but first fell           100   
Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times 7      
The letter, that denotes the inward stain,      
He, on my forehead, with the blunted point      
Of his drawn sword, inscribed. And “Look,” he cried,      
“When enter’d, that thou wash these scars away.”           105   
  Ashes, or earth ta’en dry out of the ground,      
Were of one colour with the robe he wore.      
From underneath that vestment forth he drew      
Two keys, 8 of metal twain: the one was gold,      
Its fellow silver. With the pallid first,           110   
And next the burnish’d he so ply’d the gate,      
As to content me well. “Whenever one      
Faileth of these, that in the key-hole straight      
It turn not, to this alley then expect      
Access in vain.” Such were the words he spake.           115   
“One is more precious: 9 but the other needs      
Skill and sagacity, large share of each,      
Ere its good task to disengage the knot      
Be worthily perform’d. From Peter these      
I hold, of him instructed that I err           120   
Rather in opening, than in keeping fast;      
So but the suppliant at my feet implore.”      
  Then of that hallow’d gate he thrust the door,      
Exclaiming, “Enter, but this warning hear:      
He forth again departs who looks behind.”           125   
  As in the hinges of that sacred ward      
The swivels turn’d, sonorous metal strong,      
Harsh was the grating; nor so surlily      
Roar’d the Tarpeian, when by force bereft      
Of good Metellus, thenceforth from his loss           130   
To leanness doom’d. Attentively I turn’d,      
Listening the thunder that first issued forth;      
And “We praise thee, O God,” methought I heard,      
In accents blended with sweet melody.      
The strains came o’er mine ear, e’en as the sound           135   
Of choral voices, that in solemn chant      
With organ 10 mingle, and now high and clear      
Come swelling, now float indistinct away.      
    
Note 1. “Of that chill animal.” The scorpion. [back]   
Note 2. The third was closing up its wing.” The night being divided into four watches, I think he may mean that the third was past, and the fourth and last was begun, so that there might be some faint glimmering of morning twilight; and not merely, as Lombardi supposes, that the third watch was drawing toward its close, which would still leave an insurmountable difficulty in the first verse. [back]   
Note 3. “All five.” Virgil, Dante, Sordello, Nino, and Corrado Malaspina. [back]   
Note 4. “Remembering haply ancient grief.” Progne having been changed into a swallow after the outrage done her by Tereus. [back]   
Note 5. “Lucia.” See Hell, c. ii 97 and Paradise, c. xxxii. 123. [back]   
Note 6. The white step suggests the conscience of the penitent reflecting his offences; the burnt and cracked one, his contrition on their account; the porphyry, the fervor with which he resolves on the future pursuit of piety and virtue. [back]   
Note 7. “Seven times.” Seven P’s, to denote the seven sins (Peccata) of which he was to be cleansed in his passage through Purgatory. [back]   
Note 8. “Two keys.” Lombardi remarks that painters have usually drawn St. Peter with two keys, the one of gold and the other of silver; but that Niccolo Alemanni, in his Dissertation de Parietinis Lateranensibus, produces instances of his being represented with one key, and with three. We have here, however, not St. Peter, but an angel deputed by him. [back]   
Note 9. The golden key denotes the divine authority by which the priest absolves the sinners; the silver, the learning and judgment requisite for the due discharge of that office. [back]   
Note 10. “Organ.” Organs were used in Italy as early as in the sixth century. If I remember rightly there is a passage in the Emperor Julian’s writings, which shows that the organ was not unknown in his time.

Canto X   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Being admitted at the gate of Purgatory, our Poets ascend a winding path up the rock, till they reach an open and level space that extends each way round the mountain. On the side that rises, and which is of white marble, are seen artfully engraven many stories of humility, which whilst they are contemplating, there approach the souls of those who expiate the sin of pride, and who are bent down beneath the weight of heavy stones.   
    
    
WHEN we had passed the threshold of the gate,      
(Which the soul’s ill affection doth disuse,      
Making the crooked seem the straighter path,)      
I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn’d,      
For that offence what plea might have avail’d?           5   
  We mounted up the riven rock, that wound      
On either side alternate, as the wave      
Flies and advances. “Here some little art      
Behoves us,” said my leader, “that our steps      
Observe the varying flexure of the path.”           10   
  Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb      
The moon once more o’erhangs her watery couch,      
Ere we that strait have threaded. But when free,      
We came, and open, where the mount above      
One solid mass retires; I spent with toil,           15   
And both uncertain of the way, we stood,      
Upon a plain more lonesome than the roads      
That traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink      
Borders upon vacuity, to foot      
Of the steep bank that rises still, the space           20   
Had measured thrice the stature of a man:      
And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight,      
To leftward now and now to right despatch’d,      
That cornice equal in extent appear’d.      
  Not yet our feet had on that summit moved,           25   
When I discover’d that the bank, around,      
Whose proud uprising all ascent denied,      
Was marble white; and so exactly wrought      
With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone      
Had Polycletus, but e’en nature’s self           30   
Been shamed. The Angel (who came down to earth      
With tidings of the peace so many years      
Wept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates      
From their long interdict) before us seem’d,      
In a sweet act, so sculptured to the life,           35   
He look’d no silent image. One had sworn      
He had said “Hail!” for she was imaged there,      
By whom the key did open to God’s love;      
And in her act as sensibly imprest      
That word, “Behold the handmaid of the Lord,”           40   
As figure seal’d on wax. “Fix not thy mind      
On one place only,” said the guide beloved,      
Who had me near him on that part where lies      
The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn’d,      
And mark’d, behind the Virgin Mother’s form,           45   
Upon that side where he that moved me stood,      
Another story graven on the rock.      
  I past athwart the bard, and drew me near,      
That it might stand more aptly for my view.      
There, in the self-same marble, were engraved           50   
The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,      
That from unbidden office awes mankind.      
Before it came much people; and the whole      
Parted in seven quires. One sense cried “Nay,”      
Another, “Yes, they sing.” Like doubt arose           55   
Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl’d fume      
Of incense breathing up the well-wrought toil.      
Preceding the blest vessel, onward came      
With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise,      
Israel’s sweet harper: in that hap he seem’d           60   
Less, and yet more, than kingly. Opposite      
At a great palace, from the lattice forth      
Look’d Michol, like a lady full of scorn      
And sorrow. To behold the tablet next,      
Which, at the back of Michol, whitely shone,           65   
I moved me. There, was storied on the rock      
The exalted glory of the Roman prince,      
Whose mighty worth moved Gregory 1 to earn      
His mighty conquest, Trajan the Emperor.      
A widow at his bridle stood, attired           70   
In tears and mourning. Round about them troop’d      
Full throng of knights; and overhead in gold      
The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.      
The wretch appear’d amid all these to say:      
“Grant vengeance, Sire! for, woe beshrew this heart,           75   
My son is murder’d.” He replying seem’d:      
“Wait now till I return.” And she, as one      
Made hasty by her grief: “O Sire! if thou      
Dost not return?”—“Where I am, who then is,      
May right thee.”—“What to thee is other’s good,           80   
If thou neglect thy own?”—“Now comfort thee;”      
At length he answers. “It beseemeth well      
My duty be perform’d, ere I move hence:      
So justice wills; and pity bids me stay.”      
  He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produced           85   
That visible speaking, new to us and strange,      
The like not found on earth. Fondly I gazed      
Upon those patterns of meek humbleness,      
Shapes yet more precious for their artist’s sake;      
When “Lo!” the poet whisper’d, “where this way           90   
(But slack their pace) a multitude advance,      
These to the lofty steps shall guide us on.”      
  Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights,      
Their loved allurement, were not slow to turn.      
  Reader! I would not that amazed thou miss           95   
Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God      
Decrees our debts be cancel’d. Ponder not      
The form of suffering. Think on what succeeds:      
Think that, at worst, beyond the mighty doom      
It cannot pass. “Instructor!” I began,           100   
“What I see hither tending, bears no trace      
Of human semblance, nor of aught beside      
That my foil’d sight can guess.” He answering thus:      
“So curb’d to earth, beneath their heavy terms      
Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first           105   
Struggled as thine. But look intently thither;      
And disentangle with thy laboring view,      
What, underneath those stones, approacheth: now,      
E’en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each.”      
  Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!           110   
That, feeble in the mind’s eye, lean your trust      
Upon unstaid perverseness: know ye not      
That we are worms, yet made at last to form      
The winged insect, 2 imp’d with angel plumes,      
That to Heaven’s justice unobstructed soars?           115   
Why buoy ye up aloft your unfledged souls?      
Abortive then and shapeless ye remain,      
Like the untimely embryon of a worm.      
  As, to support incumbent floor or roof,      
For corbel, is a figure sometimes seen,           120   
That crumples up its knees unto its breast;      
With the feign’d posture, stirring ruth unfeign’d      
In the beholder’s fancy; so I saw      
These fashion’d, when I noted well their guise.      
  Each, as his back was laden, came indeed           125   
Or more or less contracted; and it seem’d      
As he, who show’d most patience in his look,      
Wailing exclaim’d: “I can endure no more.”      
    
Note 1. “Gregory.” St. Gregory’s prayers are said to have delivered Trajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto xx. 40. [back]   
Note 2. “The winged insect.” The butterfly was an ancient and well-known symbol of the human soul.

Canto XI   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—After a prayer uttered by the spirits, who were spoken of in the last Canto, Virgil inquires the way upward, and is answered by one, who declares himself to have been Omberto, son of the Count of Santafiore. Next our Poet distinguishes Oderigi, the illuminator, who discourses on the vanity of worldly fame, and points out to him the soul of Provenzano Salvani.   
    
    
O THOU Almighty Father! who dost make      
The heavens Thy dwelling, not in bounds confined,      
But that, with love intenser, there Thou view’st      
Thy primal effluence; hallow’d be thy name:      
Join, each created being, to extol           5   
Thy might; for worthy humblest thanks and praise      
Is Thy blest Spirit. May Thy kingdom’s peace      
Come unto us; for we, unless it come,      
With all our striving, thither tend in vain.      
As, of their will, the Angels unto Thee           10   
Tender meet sacrifice, circling Thy throne      
With loud hosannas; so of theirs be done      
By saintly men on earth. Grant us, this day,      
Our daily manna, without which he roams      
Through this rough desert retrograde, who most           15   
Toils to advance his steps. As we to each      
Pardon the evil done us, pardon Thou      
Benign, and of our merit take no count.      
’Gainst the old adversary, prove Thou not      
Our virtue, easily subdued; but free           20   
From his incitements, and defeat his wiles.      
This last petition, dearest Lord! is made      
Not for ourselves; since that were needless now;      
But for their sakes who after us remain.”      
  Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring,           25   
Those spirits went beneath a weight like that      
We sometimes feel in dreams; all, sore beset,      
But with unequal anguish; wearied all;      
Round the first circuit; purging as they go      
The world’s gross darkness off. In our behoof           30   
If their vows still be offer’d, what can here      
For them be vow’d and done by such, whose wills      
Have root of goodness in them? Well beseems      
That we should help them wash away the stains      
They carried hence; that so, made pure and light,           35   
They may spring upward to the starry spheres.      
  “Ah! so may mercy-temper’d justice rid      
Your burdens speedily; that ye have power      
To stretch your wing, which e’en to your desire      
Shall lift you; as ye show us on which hand           40   
Toward the ladder leads the shortest way.      
And if there be more passages than one,      
Instruct us of that easiest to ascend:      
For this man, who comes with me, and bears yet      
The charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,           45   
Despite his better will, but slowly mounts.”      
From whom the answer came unto these words,      
Which my guide spake, appear’d not; but ’twas said:      
“Along the bank to rightward come with us;      
And ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil           50   
Of living man to climb: and were it not      
That I am hinder’d by the rock, wherewith      
This arrogant neck is tamed, whence needs I stoop      
My visage to the ground; him, who yet lives,      
Whose name thou speak’st not, him I fain would view;           55   
To mark if e’er I knew him, and to crave      
His pity for the fardel that I bear.      
I was of Latium; 1 of a Tuscan born,      
A mighty one: Aldobrandesco’s name      
My sire’s, I know not if ye e’er have heard.           60   
My old blood and forefathers’ gallant deeds      
Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot      
The common mother; and to such excess      
Wax’d in my scorn of all men, that I fell,      
Fell therefore; by what fate, Siena’s sons.           65   
Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.      
I am Omberto: not me, only, pride      
Hath injured, but my kindred all involved      
In mischief with her. Here my lot ordains      
Under this weight to groan, till I appease           70   
God’s angry justice, since I did it not      
Amongst the living, here amongst the dead.”      
  Listening I bent my visage down: and one      
(Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight      
That urged him, saw me, knew me straight, and call’d;           75   
Holding his eyes with difficulty fix’d      
Intent upon me, stooping as I went      
Companion of their way. “O!” I exclaim’d,      
“Art thou not Oderigi? 2 art not thou      
Agobbio’s glory, glory of that art           80   
Which they of Paris call the limner’s skill?”      
  “Brother!” said he, “with tints, that gayer smile,      
Bolognian Franco’s 3 pencil lines the leaves.      
His all the honour now; my light obscured.      
In truth, I had not been thus courteous to him           85   
The whilst I lived, through eagerness of zeal      
For that pre-eminence my heart was bent on.      
Here, of such pride, the forfeiture is paid.      
Nor were I even here, if, able still      
To sin, I had not turn’d me unto God.           90   
O powers of man! how vain your glory, nipt      
E’en in its height of verdure, if an age      
Less bright succeed not. Cimabue thought      
To lord it over painting’s field; and now      
The cry is Giotto’s, 4 and his name eclipsed.           95   
Thus hath one Guido from the other 5 snatch’d      
The letter’d prize: and he, perhaps, is born,      
Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise      
Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,      
That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name,           100   
Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more      
Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh      
Part shrivel’d from thee, than if thou hadst died      
Before the coral and the pap were left;      
Or e’er some thousand years have past? and that           105   
Is, to eternity compared, a space      
Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye      
To the heaven’s slowest orb. He there, who treads      
So leisurely before me, far and wide      
Through Tuscany resounded once; and now           110   
Is in Siena scarce with whispers named:      
There was he sovereign, when destruction caught      
The maddening rage of Florence, in that day      
Proud as she now is loathsome. Your renown      
Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go;           115   
And his might withers it, by whom it sprang      
Crude from the lap of earth.” I thus to him:      
“True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe      
The kindly spirit of meekness, and allay      
What tumours rankle there. But who is he,           120   
Of whom thou spakest but now?”—“This,” he replied,      
“I Provenzano. He is here, because      
He reach’d with grasp presumptuous, at the sway      
Of all Siena. Thus he still hath gone,      
Thus goeth never-resting, since he died.           125   
Such is the acquittance render’d back of him,      
Who, in the mortal life, too much hath dared.”      
I then: “If soul, that to life’s verge delays      
Repentance, linger in that lower space,      
Nor hither mount, (unless good prayers befriend),           130   
Or ever time, long as it lived, be past;      
How chanced admittance was vouchsafed to him?”      
  “When at his glory’s topmost height,” said he,      
“Respect of dignity all cast aside,      
Freely he fix’d him on Siena’s plain,           135   
A suitor 6 to redeem his suffering friend,      
Who languish’d in the prison-house of Charles;      
Nor, for his sake, refused through every vein      
To tremble. More I will not say; and dark,      
I know, my words are; but thy neighbours soon           140   
Shall help thee to a comment on the text.      
This is the work, that from these limits freed him.”      
    
Note 1. “I was of Latium.” Omberto, the son of Guglielmo Aldobrandesco, Count of Santafiore, in the territory of Siena. His arrogance provoked his countrymen to such a pitch of fury against him that he was murdered by them at Campagnatico. [back]   
Note 2. The illuminator, or miniature painter, a friend of Giotto and Dante. [back]   
Note 3. Franco of Bologna, who is said to have been a pupil of Oderigi’s. [back]   
Note 4. “The cry is Giotto’s.” In Giotto we have a proof at how early a period the fine arts were encouraged in Italy. His talents were discovered by Cimabue, while he was tending sheep for his father in the neighborhood of Florence, and he was afterward patronized by Pope Benedict XI and Robert, King of Naples; and enjoyed the society and friendship of Dante, whose likeness he has transmitted to posterity. [back]   
Note 5. Guido Cavalcanti, the friend of our Poet, had eclipsed the literary fame of Guido Guinicelli. See also the twenty-sixth Canto. [back]   
Note 6. Provenzano Salvani, for the sake of one of his friends who was detained in captivity by Charles I of Sicily, personally supplicated the people of Siena to contribute the ransom required by the King; and this act of self-abasement atoned for his general ambition. He fell at Vald’ Elsa, where the Florentines discomfited the Sienese in June, 1269.

Canto XII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Dante, being desired by Virgil to look down on the ground which they are treading, observes that it is wrought over with imagery exhibiting various instances of pride recorded in history and fable. They leave the first cornice, and are ushered to the next by an angel who points out the way.   
    
    
WITH equal pace, as oxen in the yoke,      
I, with that laden spirit, journey’d on,      
Long as the mild instructor suffer’d me;      
But, when he bade me quit him, and proceed,      
(For “Here,” said he, “behoves with sail and oars           5   
Each man, as best he may, push on his bark,”)      
Upright, as one disposed for speed, I raised      
My body, still in thought submissive bow’d.      
  I now my leader’s track not loth pursued;      
And each had shown how light we fared along,           10   
When thus he warned me: “Bend thine eyesight down,      
For thou, to ease the way, shalt find it good      
To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet.”      
  As, in memorial of the buried, drawn      
Upon earth-level tombs, the sculptured form           15   
Of what was once, appears, (at sight whereof      
Tears often stream forth, by remembrance waked,      
Whose sacred stings the piteous often feel),      
So saw I there, but with more curious skill      
Of portraiture o’erwrought, whate’er of space           20   
From forth the mountain stretches. On one part      
Him I beheld, above all creatures erst      
Created noblest, lightening fall from Heaven:      
On the other side, with bolt celestial pierced,      
Briareus; cumbering earth he lay, through dint           25   
Of mortal ice-stroke. The Thymbræan god, 1      
With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,      
Arm’d still, and gazing on the giants’ limbs      
Strewn o’er the ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:      
At foot of the stupendous work he stood,           30   
As if bewilder’d, looking on the crowd      
Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar’s plain.      
  O Niobe! in what a trance of woe      
Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,      
Seven sons on either side thee slain. O Saul!           35   
How ghastly didst thou look, on thine own sword      
Expiring, in Gilboa, from that hour      
Ne’er visited with rain from heaven, or dew.      
  O fond Arachne! thee I also saw,      
Half spider now, in anguish, crawling up           40   
The unfinish’d web thou weaved’st to thy bane.      
  O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem      
Louring no more defiance; but fear-smote,      
With none to chase him, in his chariot whirl’d.      
  Was shown beside upon the solid floor,           45   
How dear Alcmæon forced his mother rate      
That ornament, in evil hour received:      
How, in the temple, on Sennacherib fell      
His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.      
Was shown the scath, and cruel mangling made           50   
By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried,      
“Blood thou didst thirst for: take thy fill of blood.”      
Was shown how routed in the battle fled      
The Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e’en      
The relics of the carnage. Troy I mark’d,           55   
In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fallen,      
How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there.      
  What master of the pencil or the style      
Had traced the shades and lines, that might have made      
The subtlest workman wonder? Dead, the dead;           60   
The living seem’d alive: with clearer view,      
His eye beheld not, who beheld the truth,      
Than mine what I did tread on, while I went      
Low bending. Now swell out, and with stiff necks      
Pass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks,           65   
Lest they descry the evil of your path.      
  I noted not (so busied was my thought)      
How much we now had circled of the mount;      
And of his course yet more the sun had spent;      
When he, who with still wakeful caution went,           70   
Admonish’d: “Raise thou up thy head: for know      
Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold,      
That way, an Angel hasting toward us. Lo,      
When duly the sixth handmaid doth return      
From service on the day. Wear thou, in look           75   
And gesture, seemly grace of reverent awe;      
That gladly he may forward us aloft.      
Consider that this day ne’er dawns again.”      
  Time’s loss he had so often warn’d me ’gainst,      
I could not miss the scope at which he aim’d.           80   
  The goodly shape approach’d us, snowy white      
In vesture, and with visage casting streams      
Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.      
His arms he open’d, then his wings; and spake:      
“Onward! the steps, behold, are near; and now           85   
The ascent is without difficulty gain’d.”      
  A scanty few are they, who, when they hear      
Such tidings, hasten. O, ye race of men!      
Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind      
So slight to baffle ye? He led us on           90   
Where the rock parted; here, against my front,      
Did beat his wings; then promised I should fare      
In safety on my way. As to ascend      
That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands, 2      
(O’er Rubaconte, looking lordly down           95   
On the well-guided city 3), up the right      
The impetuous rise is broken by the steps      
Carved in that old and simple age, when still      
The registry 4 and label rested safe;      
Thus is the acclivity relieved, which here,           100   
Precipitous, from the other circuit falls:      
But, on each hand, the tall cliff presses close.      
  As, entering, there we turn’d, voices, in strain      
Ineffable, sang: “Blessed 5 are the poor      
In spirit.” Ah! how far unlike to these           105   
The straits of Hell: here songs to usher us,      
There shrieks of woe. We climb the holy stairs:      
And lighter to myself by far I seem’d      
Than on the plain before; whence thus I spake:      
“Say, master, of what heavy thing have I           110   
Been lighten’d; that scarce aught the sense of toil      
Affects me journeying?” He in few replied:      
“When sin’s broad characters, 6 that yet remain      
Upon thy temples, though well nigh effaced,      
Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out;           115   
Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will      
Be so o’ercome, they not alone shall feel      
No sense of labor, but delight much more      
Shall wait them, urged along their upward way.”      
Then like to one, upon whose head is placed           120   
Somewhat he deems not of, but from the becks      
Of others, as they pass him by; his hand      
Lends therefore help to assure him, searches, finds,      
And well performs such office as the eye      
Wants power to execute; so stretching forth           125   
The fingers of my right hand, did I find      
Six only of the letters, which his sword,      
Who bare the keys, had traced upon my brow.      
The leader, as he mark’d mine action, smiled.      
    
Note 1. “The Thymbræan god.” Apollo. [back]   
Note 2. “The chapel stands.” The church of San Miniato in Florence, situated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it is crossed by the bridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer Rubaconte da Mandella, of Milan, chief magistrate of Florence, by whom the bridge was founded in 1237. [The bridge is now generally known as the Ponte alle Grazie.—Ed.] [back]   
Note 3. “The well-guided city.” This is said ironically of Florence. [back]   
Note 4. “The registry.” In allusion to certain instances of fraud committed in Dante’s time with respect to the public accounts and measures. [back]   
Note 5. “Blessed.” “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matt. v. 3. [back]   
Note 6. “Sin’s broad characters.” Of the seven P’s, that denoted the same number of sins (Peccata) whereof he was to be cleansed (see Canto ix. 100), the first had now vanished in consequence of his having passed the place where the sin of pride, the chief of them, was expiated.

Canto XIII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—They gain the second cornice, where the sin of envy is purged; and having proceeded a little to the right, they hear voices uttered by invisible spirits recounting famous examples of charity, and next behold the shades, or souls, of the envious clad in sackcloth, and having their eyes sewed up with an iron thread. Amongst these Dante finds Sapia, a Siennese lady, from whom he learns the cause of her being there.   
    
    
WE reach’d the summit of the scale, and stood      
Upon the second buttress of that mount      
Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there      
Like to the former, girdles round the hill;      
Save that its arch, with sweep less ample, bends.           5   
  Shadow, nor image there, is seen: all smooth      
The rampart and the path, reflecting naught      
But the rock’s sullen hue. “If here we wait,      
For some to question,” said the bard, “I fear      
Our choice may haply meet too long delay.”           10   
  Then fixedly upon the sun his eyes      
He fasten’d; made his right the central point      
From whence to move; and turn’d the left aside.      
“O pleasant light, my confidence and hope!      
Conduct us thou,” he cried, “on this new way,           15   
Where now I venture; leading to the bourn      
We seek. The universal world to thee      
Owes warmth and lustre. If no other cause      
Forbid, thy beams should ever be our guide.”      
  Far, as in measured for a mile on earth,           20   
In brief space had we journey’d; such prompt will      
Impell’d; and toward us flying, now were heard      
Spirits invisible, who courteously      
Unto love’s table bade the welcome guest.      
The voice, that first flew by, call’d forth aloud,           25   
“They have no wine,” so on behind us past,      
Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lost      
In the faint distance, when another came      
Crying, “I am Orestes,” 1 and alike      
Wing’d its fleet way. “O father!” I exclaim’d,           30   
“What tongues are these?” and as I question’d, lo!      
A third exclaiming, “Love ye those have wrong’d you.”      
  “This circuit,” said my teacher, “knots the scourge      
For envy; and the cords are therefore drawn      
By charity’s correcting hand. The curb           35   
Is of a harsher sound; as thou shalt hear      
(If I deem rightly) ere thou reach the pass,      
Where pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyes      
Intently through the air; and thou shalt see      
A multitude before thee seated, each           40   
Along the shelving grot.” Then more than erst      
I oped mine eyes; before me view’d; and saw      
Shadows with garments dark as was the rock;      
And when we pass’d a little forth, I heard      
A crying, “Blessed Mary! pray for us,           45   
Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!”      
  I do not think there walks on earth this day      
Man so remorseless, that he had not yearn’d      
With pity at the sight that next I saw.      
Mine eyes a load of sorrow teem’d, when now           50   
I stood so near them, that their semblances      
Came clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile      
Their covering seem’d; and, on his shoulder, one      
Did stay another, leaning; and all lean’d      
Against the cliff. E’en thus the blind and poor,           55   
Near the confessionals, to crave an alms,      
Stand, each his head upon his fellow’s sunk;      
So most to stir compassion, not by sound      
Of words alone, but that which moves not less,      
The sight of misery. And as never beam           60   
Of noon-day visiteth the eyeless man,      
E’en so was heaven a niggard unto these      
Of his fair light: for, through the orbs of all,      
A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,      
As for the taming of a haggard hawk.           65   
It were a wrong, methought, to pass and look      
On others, yet myself the while unseen.      
To my sage counsel therefore did I turn.      
He knew the meaning of the mute appeal,      
Nor waited for my questioning, but said:           70   
“Speak; and be brief, be subtile in thy words.”      
  On that part of the cornice, whence no rim      
Engarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come;      
On the other side me were the spirits, their cheeks      
Bathing devout with penitential tears,           75   
That through the dread impalement forced a way.      
  I turn’d me to them, and “O shades!” said I,      
“Assured that to your eyes unveil’d shall shine      
The lofty light, sole object of your wish,      
So may Heaven’s grace clear whatsoe’er of foam           80   
Floats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth      
The stream of mind roll limpid from its source;      
As ye declare (for so shall ye impart      
A boon I dearly prize) if any soul      
Of Latium dwell among ye: and perchance           85   
That soul may profit, if I learn so much.”      
  “My brother! we are, each one, citizens      
Of one true city. 2 Any, thou wouldst say,      
Who lived a stranger in Italia’s land.”      
  So heard I answering, as appear’d, a voice           90   
That onward came some space from whence I stood.      
  A spirit I noted, in whose look was mark’d      
Expectance. Ask ye how? The chin was raised      
As in one reft of sight. “Spirit,” said I,      
“Who for thy rise art tutoring, (if thou be           95   
That which didst answer to me), or by place,      
Or name, disclose thyself, thy I may know thee.”      
  “I was,” it answer’d, “of Sienna: here      
I cleanse away with these the evil life,      
Soliciting with tears that He, who is,           100   
Vouchsafe Him to us. Though Sapia 3 named,      
In sapience I excell’d not; gladder far      
Of other’s hurt, than of the good befell me.      
That thou mayst own I now deceive thee not,      
Hear, if my folly were not as I speak it.           105   
When now my tears sloped waning down the arch,      
It so bechanced, my fellow-citizens      
Near Colle met their enemies in the field;      
And I pray’d God to grant what He had will’d. 4      
There were they vanquish’d, and betook themselves           110   
Unto the bitter passages of flight.      
I mark’d the hunt; and waxing out of bounds      
In gladness, lifted up my shameless brow,      
And, like the merlin 5 cheated by a gleam,      
Cried: ‘It is over. Heaven! I fear thee not.’           115   
Upon my verge of life I wish’d for peace      
With God; nor yet repentance had supplied      
What I did lack of duty, were it not      
The hermit Piero, 6 touch’d with charity,      
In his devout orisons though on me.           120   
But who art thou that question’st of our state,      
Who go’st, as I believe, with lids unclosed,      
And breathest in thy talk?”—“Mine eyes,” said I,      
“May yet be here ta’en from me; but not long;      
For they have not offended grievously           125   
With envious glances. But the woe beneath 7      
Urges my soul with more exceeding dread.      
That nether load already weighs me down.”      
  She thus: “Who then, amongst us here aloft,      
Hath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?”           130   
  “He,” answered I, “who standeth mute beside me.      
I live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit!      
If thou desire I yonder yet should move      
For thee my mortal feet.”—“Oh!” she replied,      
“This is so strange a thing, it is great sign           135   
That God doth love thee. Therefore with thy prayer      
Sometime assist me: and, by that I crave,      
Which most thou covetest, that if thy feet      
E’er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame      
Amongst my kindred. Them shalt thou behold           140   
With that vain multitude, 8 who set their hope      
On Telamone’s haven; there to fail      
Confounded, more than when the fancied stream      
They sought, of Dian call’d: but they, who lead      
Their navies, more than ruin’d hopes shall mourn.”           145   
    
Note 1. “Orestes.” Alluding to his friendship with Pylades. [back]   
Note 2. “———Citizens of one true city!” “For here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come.”—Heb. xiii. 14. [back]   
Note 3. “Sapia.” A lady of Sienna, living in exile at Colle, so overjoyed at a defeat which her countrymen sustained near that place, that she declared nothing more was wanting to make her die contended. [back]   
Note 4. “———What He had will’d.” That her countrymen should be defeated in battle. [back]   
Note 5. Induced by a gleam of fine weather in the winter to escape from his master, the merlin was soon oppressed by the rigor of the season. [back]   
Note 6. “The hermit Piero.” Piero Pettinagno, a holy hermit of Florence. [back]   
Note 7. Dante felt that he was much more subject to the sin of pride, than to that of envy. [back]   
Note 8. The Sienese

   
Canto XIV   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Our Poet on this second cornice finds also the souls of Guido del Duca of Brettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli of Romagna; the latter of whom, hearing that he comes from the banks of the Arno, inveighs against the degeneracy of all those who dwell in the cities visited by that stream; and the former, in like manner, against the inhabitants of Romagna. On leaving these, our Poets hear voices recording noted instances of envy.   
    
    
“SAY, 1 who is he around our mountain winds,      
Or ever death has pruned his wing to flight;      
That opens his eyes, and covers them at will?”      
“I know not who he is, but know thus much;      
He comes not singly. Do thou ask of him,           5   
For thou art nearer to him; and take heed,      
Accost him gently, so that he may speak.”      
  Thus on the right two spirits, bending each      
Toward the other, talk’d of me; then both      
Addressing me, their faces backward lean’d,           10   
And thus the one 2 began: “O soul, who yet      
Pent in the body, tendest towards the sky!      
For charity, we pray thee, comfort us;      
Recounting whence thou comest, and who thou art:      
For thou dost make us, at the favor shown thee,           15   
Marvel, as at a thing that ne’er hath been.”      
  “There stretches through the midst of Tuscany,”      
I straight began, “a brooklet, 3 whose well-head      
Springs up in Falterona; with his race      
Not satisfied, when he some hundred miles           20   
Hath measured. From his banks bring I this frame.      
To tell you who I am were words mis-spent:      
For yet my name scarce sounds on rumour’s lip.”      
  “If well I do incorporate with my thought      
The meaning of thy speech,” said he, who first           25   
Address’d me, “thou dost speak of Arno’s wave.”      
  To whom the other: 4 “Why hath he conceal’d      
The title of that river, as a man      
Doth of some horrible thing?” The spirit, who      
Thereof was question’d, did acquit him thus:           30   
“I know not: but ’tis fitting well the name      
Should perish of that vale; for from the source, 5      
Where teems so plenteously the Alpine steep      
Maim’d of Pelorus, (that doth scarcely pass      
Beyond that limit), even to the point           35   
Where unto ocean is restored what heaven      
Drains from the exhaustless store for all earth’s streams,      
Throughout the space is virtue worried down,      
As’t were a snake, by all, for mortal foe;      
Or through disastrous influence on the place,           40   
Or else distortion of misguided wills      
That custom goads to evil: whence in those,      
The dwellers in that miserable vale,      
Nature is so transform’d, it seems as they      
Had shared of Circe’s feeding. ’Midst brute swine, 6           45   
Worthier of acorns than of other food      
Created for man’s use, he shapeth first      
His obscure way; then, sloping onward, finds      
Curs, 7 snarlers more in spite than power, from whom      
He turns with scorn aside: still journeying down,           50   
By how much more the curst and luckless foss 8      
Swells out to largeness, e’en so much it finds      
Dogs turning into wolves. 9 Descending still      
Through yet more hollow eddies, next he meets      
A race of foxes, 10 so replete with craft,           55   
They do not fear that skill can master it.      
Nor will I cease because my words are heard 11      
By other ears than thine. It shall be well      
For this man, 12 if he keep in memory      
What from no erring spirit I reveal.           60   
Lo! I behold thy grandson, 13 that becomes      
A hunter of those wolves, upon the shore      
Of the fierce stream; and cows them all with dread.      
Their flesh, yet living, sets he up to sale,      
Then, like an aged beast, to slaughter dooms.           65   
Many of life he reaves, himself of worth      
And goodly estimation. Smear’d with gore,      
Mark how he issues from the rueful wood;      
Leaving such havoc, that in thousand years      
It spreads not to prime lustihood again.”           70   
  As one, who tidings hears of woe to come,      
Changes his looks perturb’d, from whate’er part      
The peril grasp him; so beheld I change      
That spirit, who had turn’d to listen; struck      
With sadness, soon as he had caught the word.           75   
  His visage, and the other’s speech, did raise      
Desire in me to know the names of both;      
Whereof, with meek entreaty, I inquired.      
  The shade, who late address’d me, thus resumed:      
“Thy wish imports, that I vouchsafe to do           80   
For thy sake what thou wilt not do for mine.      
But, since God’s will is that so largely shine      
His grace in thee, I will be liberal too.      
Guido of Duca know then that I am.      
Envy so parch’d my blood, that had I seen           85   
A fellow man made joyous, thou had’st mark’d      
A livid paleness overspread my cheek.      
Such harvest reap I of the seed I sow’d.      
O man! why place thy heart where there doth need      
Exclusion of participants in good?           90   
This is Rinieri’s spirit; this, the boast      
And honour of the house of Calboli;      
Where of his worth no heritage remains.      
Nor his the only blood, that hath been stript      
(’Twixt Po, the mount, the Reno, and the shore 14)           95   
Of all that truth or fancy asks for bliss:      
But, in those limits, such a growth has sprung      
Of rank and venom’d roots, as long would mock      
Slow culture’s toil. Where is good Lizio? 15 where      
Mainardi, Traversaro, and Carpigna? 16           100   
O bastard slips of old Romagna’s line!      
When in Bologna the low artisan, 17      
And in Faenza yon Bernardin 18 sprouts,      
A gentle cyon from ignoble stem.      
Wonder not, Tuscan, if thou see me weep,           105   
When I recall to mind those once loved names,      
Guido of Prata,  19 and of Azzo him 20      
That dwelt with us; Tignoso 21 and his troop,      
With Traversaro’s house and Anastagio’s, 22      
(Each race disherited); and beside these,           110   
The ladies and the knights, the toils and ease,      
That witch’d us into love and courtesy;      
Where now such malice reigns in recreant hearts      
O Brettinoro! 23 wherefore tarriest still,      
Since forth of thee thy family hath gone,           115   
And many, hating evil, join’d their steps?      
Well doeth he, that bids his lineage cease,      
Bagnacavallo; 24 Castrocaro ill,      
And Conio worse, 25 who care to propagate      
A race of Counties 26 from such blood as theirs.           120   
Well shall ye also do, Pagani, 27 then      
When from amongst you hies your demon child;      
Not so, howe’er, that thenceforth there remain      
True proof of what ye were. O Hugolin, 28      
Thou sprung of Fantolini’s line! thy name           125   
Is safe; since none is look’d for after thee      
To cloud its lustre, warping from thy stock.      
But, Tuscan! go thy ways; for now I take      
Far more delight in weeping, than in words.      
Such pity for your sakes hath wrung my heart.”           130   
  We knew those gentle spirits, at parting, heard      
Our steps. Their silence therefore, of our way,      
Assured us. Soon as we had quitted them,      
Advancing onward, lo! a voice, that seem’d      
Like volley’d lightning, when it rives the air,           135   
Met us, and shouted, “Whosoever finds      
Will slay me”; then fled from us, as the bolt      
Lanced sudden from a downward-rushing cloud.      
When it had given short truce unto our hearing,      
Behold the other with a crash as loud           140   
As the quick-following thunder: “Mark in me      
Aglauros, turn’d to rock.” I, at the sound      
Retreating, drew more closely to my guide.      
  Now in mute stillness rested all the air;      
And thus he spake: “There was the galling bit,           145   
Which should keep man within his boundary.      
But your old enemy so baits the hook,      
He drags you eager to him. Hence nor curb      
Avails you, nor reclaiming call. Heaven calls,      
And, round about you wheeling, courts your gaze           150   
With everlasting beauties. Yet your eye      
Turns with fond doting still upon the earth.      
Therefore He smites you who discerneth all.”      
    
Note 1. “Say.” The two spirits who thus speak to each other are Guido del Duca, of Brettinoro, and Rinieri da Calboli, of Romagna. [back]   
Note 2. “The one.” Guido del Duca. [back]   
Note 3. The Arno, that rises in Falterona, a mountain in the Apennines. Its course is 120 miles. [back]   
Note 4. Rinieri da Calboli. [back]   
Note 5. From the rise of the Arno in the Apennines, whence Pelorus in Sicily was torn by a convulsion of the earth, even to the point where the same river unites with the ocean, Virtue is persecuted by all. [back]   
Note 6. The people of Casentino. [back]   
Note 7. “Curs.” The Arno leaves Arezzo about four miles to the left. [back]   
Note 8. “Foss.” So in his anger he terms the Arno. [back]   
Note 9. “Wolves.” The Florentines. [back]   
Note 10. “Foxes.” The Pisans. [back]   
Note 11. Guido still addresses Rinieri. [back]   
Note 12. For Dante, who has told us that he comes from the banks of [back]   
Note 13. “Thy grandson.” Fulcieri da Calboli, grandson of Rinieri da Calboli, who is here spoken to. The atrocities predicted came to pass in 1302. [back]   
Note 14. The boundaries of Romagna. [back]   
Note 15. “Lizio.” Lizio da Valbona introduced into Boccaccio’s Decameron, G. v. N. 4. [back]   
Note 16. Arrigo Manardi, of Faenza, or, as some say, of Brettinoro; Pier Traversaro, Lord of Ravenna; and Guido di Carpigna, of Montefeltro. [back]   
Note 17. One who had been a mechanic, named Lambertaccio, arrived at almost supreme power in Bologna. [back]   
Note 18. Benardin di Fosco, a man of low origin, but great talents, who governed at Faenza. [back]   
Note 19. “Prata.” A place between Faenza and Ravenna. [back]   
Note 20. “Of Azzo him.” Ugolino, of the Ubaldini family in Tuscany. [back]   
Note 21. Federigo Tignoso of Rimini. [back]   
Note 22. Two noble families of Ravenna. [back]   
Note 23. “O Brettinoro.” A beautifully situated castle in Romagna, the hospitable residence of Guido del Duca, who is here speaking. Landino relates that there were several of this family who, when a stranger arrived among them contended with one another by whom he should be entertained; and that in order to end this dispute, they set up a pillar with as many rings as there were father of families among them, a ring being assigned to each, and that accordingly as a stranger on his arrival hung his horse’s bridle on one or other of these, he became his guest to whom the ring belonged. [back]   
Note 24. “Bagnacavallo.” A castle between Imola and Ravenna. [back]   
Note 25. “———Castrocaro ill, and Conio worse.” Both in Romagna. [back]   
Note 26. “Counties.” I have used this word here for “counts,” as it is in Shakespeare. [back]   
Note 27. “Pagani.” The Pagani were lords of Faenza and Imola. One of them, Machinardo, was named “the Demon,” from his treachery. See Hell, Canto xxvii. 47 and note. [back]   
Note 28. “Hugolin.” Ugolino Ubaldini, a noble and virtuous person in Faenza, who, on account of his age probably, was not likely to leave any offspring behind him.