The Divine Comedy by Dante Part 13

Waitest thou escort to conduct thee hence?

Or blame I only shine accustom'd ways?"

Then he: "My brother, of what use to mount, When to my suffering would not let me pa.s.s The bird of G.o.d, who at the portal sits?

Behooves so long that heav'n first bear me round Without its limits, as in life it bore, Because I to the end repentant Sighs Delay'd, if prayer do not aid me first, That riseth up from heart which lives in grace.

What other kind avails, not heard in heaven?"'

Before me now the Poet up the mount Ascending, cried: "Haste thee, for see the sun Has touch'd the point meridian, and the night Now covers with her foot Marocco's sh.o.r.e."

CANTO V

Now had I left those spirits, and pursued The steps of my Conductor, when beheld Pointing the finger at me one exclaim'd: "See how it seems as if the light not shone From the left hand of him beneath, and he, 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 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!

He, in whose bosom thought on thought shoots out, Still of his aim is wide, in that the one Sicklies and wastes to nought the other's strength."

What other could I answer save "I come?"

I said it, somewhat with that colour ting'd Which ofttimes 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 perceiv'd that through my body I Gave way not for the rays to pa.s.s, their song Straight to a long and hoa.r.s.e exclaim they chang'd; And two of them, in guise of messengers, Ran on to meet us, and inquiring ask'd: "Of your condition we would gladly learn."

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 paus'd, enough is answer'd them.

Him let them honour, they may prize him well."

Ne'er saw I fiery vapours 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 s.p.a.ce Return; and, there arriving, with the rest Wheel back on us, as with loose rein a troop.

"Many," exclaim'd the bard, "are these, who throng Around us: to pet.i.tion thee they come.

Go therefore on, and listen as thou go'st."

"O spirit! who go'st on to blessedness 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 Thou mayst report. Ah, wherefore go'st thou on?

Ah wherefore tarriest thou not? We all By violence died, and to our latest hour Were sinners, but then warn'd by light from heav'n, So that, repenting and forgiving, we Did issue out of life at peace with G.o.d, 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, 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 promis'd with an oath; So as the will fail not for want of power.

Whence I, who sole before the others speak, Entreat thee, if thou ever see that land, Which lies between Romagna and the realm Of Charles, that of thy courtesy thou pray Those who inhabit Fano, that for me Their adorations duly be put up, By which I may purge off my grievous sins.

From thence I came. But the deep pa.s.sages, Whence issued out the blood wherein I dwelt, Upon my bosom in Antenor's land 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 towards Mira fled, When overta'en at Oriaco, still Might I have breath'd. 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, As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine.

Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I: Giovanna nor none else have care for me, Sorrowing with these I therefore go." I thus: "From Campaldino's field what force or chance Drew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?"

"Oh!" answer'd he, "at Casentino's foot A stream there courseth, nam'd Archiano, sprung In Apennine above the Hermit's seat.

E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I, Pierc'd in the heart, fleeing away on foot, And b.l.o.o.d.ying 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 Tell to the living. Me G.o.d's angel took, Whilst he of h.e.l.l exclaim'd: "O thou from heav'n!

Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of him Th' eternal portion bear'st with thee away For one poor tear that he deprives me of.

But of the other, other rule I make."

"Thou knowest how in the atmosphere collects That vapour dank, returning into water, Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.

That evil will, which in his intellect Still follows evil, came, and rais'd 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, And stretch'd the sky above, so that the air Impregnate chang'd 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 Rush'd, that nought stay'd its course. My stiffen'd frame Laid at his mouth the fell Archiano found, And dash'd it into Arno, from my breast Loos'ning the cross, that of myself I made When overcome with pain. He hurl'd me on, 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.

I once was Pia. Sienna gave me life, Maremma took it from me. That he knows, Who me with jewell'd ring had first espous'd."

CANTO VI

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, 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 he from the press defends himself.

E'en such was I in that close-crowding throng; And turning so my face around to all, And promising, I 'scap'd from it with pains.

Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell By Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside, Who in his chase was swallow'd by the stream.

Here Frederic Novello, with his hand Stretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he, Who put the good Marzuco to such proof Of constancy. Count Orso I beheld; 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; and here, While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant Let her beware; lest for so false a deed 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, That heaven's supreme decree can never 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, And these deceiv'd 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 fulfils, which he Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy.

Besides, when I this point concluded thus, By praying no defect could be supplied; Because the pray'r had none access to G.o.d.

Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not Contented unless she a.s.sure thee so, 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 I tire not as before; and lo! the hill Stretches its shadow far." He answer'd thus: "Our progress with this day shall be as much As we may now dispatch; but otherwise Than thou supposest is the truth. For there 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: 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 pa.s.s, Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.

But Virgil with entreaty mild advanc'd, Requesting it to show the best ascent.

It answer to his question none return'd, But of our country and our kind of life Demanded. When my courteous guide began, "Mantua," the solitary shadow quick Rose towards us from the place in which it stood, And cry'd, "Mantuan! I am thy countryman Sordello." Each the other then embrac'd.

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, Ev'n from the Pleasant sound of his dear land 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, Seek, wretched one! around thy sea-coasts wide; Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and mark If any part of the sweet peace enjoy.

What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand Befitted, if thy saddle be unpress'd?

Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame.

Ah people! thou obedient still shouldst live, And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit, If well thou marked'st that which G.o.d commands.

Look how that beast to felness hath relaps'd From having lost correction of the spur, Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand, O German Albert! who abandon'st her, That is grown savage and unmanageable, When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels.

Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood!

And be it strange and manifest to all!

Such as may strike thy successor with dread!

For that thy sire and thou have suffer'd thus, Through greediness of yonder realms detain'd, The garden of the empire to run waste.

Come see the Capulets and Montagues, The Philippeschi and Monaldi! man Who car'st for nought! those sunk in grief, and these With dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one!

Come and behold the' oppression of the n.o.bles, And mark their injuries: and thou mayst see.

What safety Santafiore can supply.

Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee, Desolate widow! day and night with moans: "My Caesar, 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, Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified!

Are thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere? or is this A preparation in the wond'rous depth Of thy sage counsel made, for some good end, Entirely from our reach of thought cut off?