|
Dante's Divine Comedy
PURGATORIO
Cantos X to XII
English
Edition, translated by Allen Mandelbaum
from
the ELF Presents
Website.
See
their website for other translations. These translations are not
necessarily the best in English but they are in the public domain.
Canto
X
Canto
XI
Canto
XII
Canto X
The Needle's Eye
The First Circle: The Proud |
The Proud.
The Sculptures on the Wall.
|
1 |
When I had crossed the threshold of the gate
|
2 |
that since the soul's aberrant love would make
|
3 |
the crooked way seem straight is seldom used,
|
|
4 |
I heard the gate resound and, hearing, knew
|
5 |
that it had shut; and if I'd turned toward it,
|
6 |
how could my fault have found a fit excuse?
|
|
7 |
Our upward pathway ran between cracked rocks;
|
8 |
they seemed to sway in one, then the other part,
|
9 |
just like a wave that flees, then doubles back.
|
|
10 |
Here we shall need some ingenuity, |
11 |
my guide warned me, as both of us draw near
|
12 |
this side or that side where the rock wall veers.
|
|
13 |
This made our steps so slow and hesitant |
14 |
that the declining moon had reached its bed
|
15 |
to sink back into rest, before we had |
|
16 |
made our way through that needle's eye; but when
|
17 |
we were released from it, in open space |
18 |
above, a place at which the slope retreats,
|
|
19 |
I was exhausted; with the two of us |
20 |
uncertain of our way, we halted on |
21 |
a plateau lonelier than desert paths. |
|
22 |
The distance from its edge, which rims the void,
|
23 |
in to the base of the steep slope, which climbs
|
24 |
and climbs, would measure three times one man's body;
|
|
25 |
and for as far as my sight took its flight,
|
26 |
now to the left, now to the right-hand side,
|
27 |
that terrace seemed to me equally wide. |
|
28 |
There we had yet to let our feet advance |
29 |
when I discovered that the bordering bank
|
30 |
less sheer than banks of other terraces |
|
31 |
was of white marble and adorned with carvings
|
32 |
so accurate not only Polycletus |
33 |
but even Nature, there, would feel defeated.
|
|
34 |
The angel who reached earth with the decree
|
35 |
of that peace which, for many years, had been
|
36 |
invoked with tears, the peace that opened Heaven
|
|
37 |
after long interdict, appeared before us,
|
38 |
his gracious action carved with such precision
|
39 |
he did not seem to be a silent image. |
|
40 |
One would have sworn that he was saying, Ave;
|
41 |
for in that scene there was the effigy |
42 |
of one who turned the key that had unlocked
|
|
43 |
the highest love; and in her stance there were
|
44 |
impressed these words, Ecce ancilla Dei, |
45 |
precisely like a figure stamped in wax. |
|
46 |
Your mind must not attend to just one part,
|
47 |
the gentle master said he had me on |
48 |
the side of him where people have their heart.
|
|
49 |
At this, I turned my face and saw beyond |
50 |
the form of Mary on the side where stood |
51 |
the one who guided me another story |
|
52 |
engraved upon the rock; therefore I moved
|
53 |
past Virgil and drew close to it, so that
|
54 |
the scene before my eyes was more distinct.
|
|
55 |
There, carved in that same marble, were the cart
|
56 |
and oxen as they drew the sacred ark, |
57 |
which makes men now fear tasks not in their charge.
|
|
58 |
People were shown in front; and all that group,
|
59 |
divided into seven choirs, made |
60 |
two of my senses speak one sense said, No,
|
|
61 |
the other said, Yes, they do sing; just so,
|
62 |
about the incense smoke shown there, my nose
|
63 |
and eyes contended, too, with yes and no.
|
|
64 |
And there the humble psalmist went before
|
65 |
the sacred vessel, dancing, lifting up |
66 |
his robe he was both less and more than king.
|
|
67 |
Facing that scene, and shown as at the window
|
68 |
of a great palace, Michal watched as would
|
69 |
a woman full of scorn and suffering. |
|
70 |
To look more closely at another carving, |
71 |
which I saw gleaming white beyond Michal,
|
72 |
my feet moved past the point where I had stood.
|
|
73 |
And there the noble action of a Roman |
74 |
prince was presented he whose worth had urged
|
75 |
on Gregory to his great victory |
|
76 |
I mean the Emperor Trajan; and a poor |
77 |
widow was near his bridle, and she stood |
78 |
even as one in tears and sadness would. |
|
79 |
Around him, horsemen seemed to press and crowd;
|
80 |
above their heads, on golden banners, eagles
|
81 |
were represented, moving in the wind. |
|
82 |
Among that crowd, the miserable woman |
83 |
seemed to be saying: Lord, avenge me for |
84 |
the slaying of my son my heart is broken.
|
|
85 |
And he was answering: Wait now until |
86 |
I have returned. And she, as one in whom |
87 |
grief presses urgently: And, lord, if you
|
|
88 |
do not return? And he: The one who'll be |
89 |
in my place will perform it for you. She:
|
90 |
What good can others' goodness do for you
|
|
91 |
if you neglect your own? He: Be consoled;
|
92 |
my duty shall be done before I go: |
93 |
so justice asks, so mercy makes me stay. |
|
94 |
This was the speech made visible by One |
95 |
within whose sight no thing is new but we,
|
96 |
who lack its likeness here, find novelty.
|
|
97 |
While I took much delight in witnessing |
98 |
these effigies of true humility |
99 |
dear, too, to see because He was their Maker
|
|
100 |
the poet murmured: See the multitude |
101 |
advancing, though with slow steps, on this side:
|
102 |
they will direct us to the higher stairs.
|
|
103 |
My eyes, which had been satisfied in seeking
|
104 |
new sights a thing for which they long did not
|
105 |
delay in turning toward him. But I would |
|
106 |
not have you, reader, be deflected from |
107 |
your good resolve by hearing from me now |
108 |
how God would have us pay the debt we owe.
|
|
109 |
Don't dwell upon the form of punishment: |
110 |
consider what comes after that; at worst |
111 |
it cannot last beyond the final Judgment.
|
|
112 |
Master, I said, what I see moving toward us
|
113 |
does not appear to me like people, but |
114 |
I can't tell what is there my sight's bewildered.
|
|
115 |
And he to me: Whatever makes them suffer |
116 |
their heavy torment bends them to the ground;
|
117 |
at first I was unsure of what they were. |
|
118 |
But look intently there, and let your eyes
|
119 |
unravel what's beneath those stones: you can
|
120 |
already see what penalty strikes each. |
|
121 |
O Christians, arrogant, exhausted, wretched,
|
122 |
whose intellects are sick and cannot see,
|
123 |
who place your confidence in backward steps,
|
|
124 |
do you not know that we are worms and born
|
125 |
to form the angelic butterfly that soars,
|
126 |
without defenses, to confront His judgment?
|
|
127 |
Why does your mind presume to flight when you
|
128 |
are still like the imperfect grub, the worm
|
129 |
before it has attained its final form? |
|
130 |
Just as one sees at times as corbel for |
131 |
support of ceiling or of roof a figure |
132 |
with knees drawn up into its chest (and this
|
|
133 |
oppressiveness, unreal, gives rise to real :
|
134 |
distress in him who watches it): such was
|
135 |
the state of those I saw when I looked hard.
|
|
136 |
They were indeed bent down some less, some more
|
137 |
according to the weights their backs now bore;
|
138 |
and even he whose aspect showed most patience,
|
|
139 |
in tears, appeared to say: I can no more.
|
Canto XI
The First Circle: The Proud
|
The Humble Prayer. Omberto di
Santafiore. Oderisi d' Agobbio. Provenzan Salvani.
|
1 |
Our Father, You who dwell within the heavens
|
2 |
but are not circumscribed by them out of |
3 |
Your greater love for Your first works above,
|
|
4 |
praised be Your name and Your omnipotence,
|
5 |
by every creature, just as it is seemly |
6 |
to offer thanks to Your sweet effluence. |
|
7 |
Your kingdom's peace come unto us, for if
|
8 |
it does not come, then though we summon all
|
9 |
our force, we cannot reach it of our selves.
|
|
10 |
Just as Your angels, as they sing Hosanna,
|
11 |
offer their wills to You as sacrifice, |
12 |
so may men offer up their wills to You. |
|
13 |
Give unto us this day the daily manna |
14 |
without which he who labors most to move |
15 |
ahead through this harsh wilderness falls back.
|
|
16 |
Even as we forgive all who have done |
17 |
us injury, may You, benevolent, |
18 |
forgive, and do not judge us by our worth.
|
|
19 |
Try not our strength, so easily subdued, |
20 |
against the ancient foe, but set it free |
21 |
from him who goads it to perversity. |
|
22 |
This last request we now address to You, |
23 |
dear Lord, not for ourselves who have no need
|
24 |
but for the ones whom we have left behind.
|
|
25 |
Beseeching, thus, good penitence for us |
26 |
and for themselves, those shades moved on beneath
|
27 |
their weights, like those we sometimes bear in dreams
|
|
28 |
each in his own degree of suffering |
29 |
but all, exhausted, circling the first terrace,
|
30 |
purging themselves of this world's scoriae.
|
|
31 |
If there they pray on our behalf, what can
|
32 |
be said and done here on this earth for them
|
33 |
by those whose wills are rooted in true worth?
|
|
34 |
Indeed we should help them to wash away |
35 |
the stains they carried from this world, so that,
|
36 |
made pure and light, they reach the starry wheels.
|
|
37 |
Ah, so may justice and compassion soon |
38 |
unburden you, so that your wings may move
|
39 |
as you desire them to, and uplift you, |
|
40 |
show us on which hand lies the shortest path
|
41 |
to reach the stairs; if there is more than one
|
42 |
passage, then show us that which is less steep;
|
|
43 |
for he who comes with me, because he wears
|
44 |
the weight of Adam's flesh as dress, despite
|
45 |
his ready will, is slow in his ascent. |
|
46 |
These words, which had been spoken by my guide,
|
47 |
were answered by still other words we heard;
|
48 |
for though it was not clear who had replied,
|
|
49 |
an answer came: Come with us to the right
|
50 |
along the wall of rock, and you will find
|
51 |
a pass where even one alive can climb. |
|
52 |
And were I not impeded by the stone |
53 |
that, since it has subdued my haughty neck,
|
54 |
compels my eyes to look below, then I |
|
55 |
should look at this man who is still alive
|
56 |
and nameless, to see if I recognize |
57 |
him and to move his pity for my burden. |
|
58 |
I was Italian, son of a great Tuscan: |
59 |
my father was Guiglielmo Aldobrandesco; I
|
60 |
do not know if you have heard his name. |
|
61 |
The ancient blood and splendid deeds of my
|
62 |
forefathers made me so presumptuous |
63 |
that, without thinking on our common mother,
|
|
64 |
I scorned all men past measure, and that scorn
|
65 |
brought me my death the Sienese know how,
|
66 |
as does each child in Campagnatico. |
|
67 |
I am Omberto; and my arrogance |
68 |
has not harmed me alone, for it has drawn
|
69 |
all of my kin into calamity. |
|
70 |
Until God has been satisfied, I bear |
71 |
this burden here among the dead because |
72 |
I did not bear this load among the living.
|
|
73 |
My face was lowered as I listened; and |
74 |
one of those souls not he who'd spoken twisted
|
75 |
himself beneath the weight that burdened them;
|
|
76 |
he saw and knew me and called out to me, |
77 |
fixing his eyes on me laboriously |
78 |
as I, completely hunched, walked on with them.
|
|
79 |
Oh, I cried out, are you not Oderisi, |
80 |
glory of Gubbio, glory of that art |
81 |
they call illumination now in Paris? |
|
82 |
Brother, he said, the pages painted by |
83 |
the brush of Franco Bolognese smile |
84 |
more brightly: all the glory now is his; |
|
85 |
mine, but a part. In truth I would have been
|
86 |
less gracious when I lived so great was that
|
87 |
desire for eminence which drove my heart.
|
|
88 |
For such pride, here one pays the penalty;
|
89 |
and I'd not be here yet, had it not been |
90 |
that, while I still could sin, I turned to Him.
|
|
91 |
O empty glory of the powers of humans! |
92 |
How briefly green endures upon the peak |
93 |
unless an age of dullness follows it. |
|
94 |
In painting Cimabue thought he held |
95 |
the field, and now it's Giotto they acclaim
|
96 |
the former only keeps a shadowed fame. |
|
97 |
So did one Guido, from the other, wrest |
98 |
the glory of our tongue and he perhaps |
99 |
is born who will chase both out of the nest.
|
|
100 |
Worldly renown is nothing other than |
101 |
a breath of wind that blows now here, now there,
|
102 |
and changes name when it has changed its course.
|
|
103 |
Before a thousand years have passed a span
|
104 |
that, for eternity, is less space than |
105 |
an eyeblink for the slowest sphere in heaven
|
|
106 |
would you find greater glory if you left |
107 |
your flesh when it was old than if your death
|
108 |
had come before your infant words were spent?
|
|
109 |
All Tuscany acclaimed his name the man |
110 |
who moves so slowly on the path before me,
|
111 |
and now they scarcely whisper of him even
|
|
112 |
in Siena, where he lorded it when they |
113 |
destroyed the raging mob of Florence then
|
114 |
as arrogant as now it's prostitute. |
|
115 |
Your glory wears the color of the grass |
116 |
that comes and goes; the sun that makes it wither
|
117 |
first drew it from the ground, still green and
tender. |
|
118 |
And I to him: Your truthful speech has filled
|
119 |
my soul with sound humility, abating |
120 |
my overswollen pride; but who is he |
|
121 |
of whom you spoke now? Provenzan Salvani,
|
122 |
he answered, here because presumptuously |
123 |
he thought his grip could master all Siena.
|
|
124 |
So he has gone, and so he goes, with no |
125 |
rest since his death; this is the penalty
|
126 |
exacted from those who there overreached.
|
|
127 |
And I: But if a spirit who awaits |
128 |
the edge of life before repenting must |
129 |
unless good prayers help him stay below |
|
130 |
and not ascend here for as long a time |
131 |
as he had spent alive, do tell me how |
132 |
Salvani's entry here has been allowed. |
|
133 |
When he was living in his greatest glory |
134 |
said he, then of his own free will he set
|
135 |
aside all shame and took his place upon |
|
136 |
the Campo of Siena; there, to free |
137 |
his friend from suffering in Charles's prison,
|
138 |
humbling himself, he trembled in each vein.
|
|
139 |
I say no more; I know I speak obscurely; |
140 |
but soon enough you'll find your neighbor's acts
|
141 |
are such that what I say can be explained.
|
|
142 |
This deed delivered him from those confines. |
Canto XII
The First Circle:
The Proud |
The
Sculptures on the Pavement. Ascent to the Second Circle. |
1 |
As oxen, yoked, proceed abreast, so I |
2 |
moved with that burdened soul as long as my
|
3 |
kind pedagogue allowed me to; but when |
|
4 |
he said: Leave him behind, and go ahead; |
5 |
for here it's fitting that with wings and oars
|
6 |
each urge his boat along with all his force,
|
|
7 |
I drew my body up again, erect |
8 |
the stance most suitable to man and yet |
9 |
the thoughts I thought were still submissive, bent.
|
|
10 |
Now I was on my way, and willingly |
11 |
I followed in my teacher's steps, and we |
12 |
together showed what speed we could command.
|
|
13 |
He said to me: Look downward, for the way
|
14 |
will offer you some solace if you pay |
15 |
attention to the pavement at your feet. |
|
16 |
As, on the lids of pavement tombs, there are
|
17 |
stone effigies of what the buried were |
18 |
before, so that the dead may be remembered;
|
|
19 |
and there, when memory inciting only |
20 |
the pious has renewed their mourning, men
|
21 |
are often led to shed their tears again; |
|
22 |
so did I see, but carved more skillfully,
|
23 |
with greater sense of likeness, effigies |
24 |
on all the path protruding from the mountain.
|
|
25 |
I saw, to one side of the path, one who |
26 |
had been created nobler than all other |
27 |
beings, falling lightning-like from Heaven.
|
|
28 |
I saw, upon the other side, Briareus |
29 |
transfixed by the celestial shaft: he lay,
|
30 |
ponderous, on the ground, in fatal cold. |
|
31 |
I saw Thymbraeus, I saw Mars and Pallas, |
32 |
still armed, as they surrounded Jove, their father,
|
33 |
gazing upon the Giants' scattered limbs. |
|
34 |
I saw bewildered Nimrod at the foot |
35 |
of his great labor; watching him were those
|
36 |
of Shinar who had shared his arrogance. |
|
37 |
O Niobe, what tears afflicted me |
38 |
when, on that path, I saw your effigy |
39 |
among your slaughtered children, seven and seven!
|
|
40 |
O Saul, you were portrayed there as one who
|
41 |
had died on his own sword, upon Gilboa, |
42 |
which never after knew the rain, the dew!
|
|
43 |
O mad Arachne, I saw you already |
44 |
half spider, wretched on the ragged remnants
|
45 |
of work that you had wrought to your own hurt!
|
|
46 |
O Rehoboam, you whose effigy |
47 |
seems not to menace there, and yet you flee
|
48 |
by chariot, terrified, though none pursues!
|
|
49 |
It also showed that pavement of hard stone
|
50 |
how much Alcmaeon made his mother pay: |
51 |
the cost of the ill-omened ornament. |
|
52 |
It showed the children of Sennacherib |
53 |
as they assailed their father in the temple,
|
54 |
then left him, dead, behind them as they fled.
|
|
55 |
It showed the slaughter and the devastation
|
56 |
wrought by Tomyris when she taunted Cyrus:
|
57 |
You thirsted after blood; with blood I fill you.
|
|
58 |
It showed the rout of the Assyrians, |
59 |
sent reeling after Holofernes' death, |
60 |
and also showed his body what was left. |
|
61 |
I saw Troy turned to caverns and to ashes;
|
62 |
O Ilium, your effigy in stone |
63 |
it showed you there so squalid, so cast down!
|
|
64 |
What master of the brush or of the stylus
|
65 |
had there portrayed such masses, such outlines
|
66 |
as would astonish all discerning minds? |
|
67 |
The dead seemed dead and the alive, alive:
|
68 |
I saw, head bent, treading those effigies,
|
69 |
as well as those who'd seen those scenes directly.
|
|
70 |
Now, sons of Eve, persist in arrogance, |
71 |
in haughty stance, do not let your eyes bend,
|
72 |
lest you be forced to see your evil path!
|
|
73 |
We now had circled round more of the mountain
|
74 |
and much more of the sun's course had been crossed
|
75 |
than I, my mind absorbed, had gauged, when he
|
|
76 |
who always looked ahead insistently, |
77 |
as he advanced, began: Lift up your eyes;
|
78 |
it's time to set these images aside. |
|
79 |
See there an angel hurrying to meet us, |
80 |
and also see the sixth of the handmaidens
|
81 |
returning from her service to the day. |
|
82 |
Adorn your face and acts with reverence, |
83 |
that he be pleased to send us higher. Remember
|
84 |
today will never know another dawn. |
|
85 |
I was so used to his insistent warnings |
86 |
against the loss of time; concerning that,
|
87 |
his words to me could hardly be obscure. |
|
88 |
That handsome creature came toward us; his clothes
|
89 |
were white, and in his aspect he seemed like
|
90 |
the trembling star that rises in the morning.
|
|
91 |
He opened wide his arms, then spread his wings;
|
92 |
he said: Approach: the steps are close at hand;
|
93 |
from this point on one can climb easily. |
|
94 |
This invitation's answered by so few: |
95 |
o humankind, born for the upward flight, |
96 |
why are you driven back by wind so slight?
|
|
97 |
He led us to a cleft within the rock, |
98 |
and then he struck my forehead with his wing;
|
99 |
that done, he promised me safe journeying.
|
|
100 |
As on the right, when one ascends the hill
|
101 |
where over Rubaconte's bridge there stands
|
102 |
the church that dominates the well-ruled city,
|
|
103 |
the daring slope of the ascent is broken |
104 |
by steps that were constructed in an age |
105 |
when record books and measures could be trusted,
|
|
106 |
so was the slope that plummets there so steeply
|
107 |
down from the other ring made easier; |
108 |
but on this side and that, high rock encroaches.
|
|
109 |
While we began to move in that direction,
|
110 |
Beati pauperes spiritu was sung |
111 |
so sweetly it can not be told in words. |
|
112 |
How different were these entryways from those
|
113 |
of Hell! For here it is with song one enters;
|
114 |
down there, it is with savage lamentations.
|
|
115 |
Now we ascended by the sacred stairs, |
116 |
but I seemed to be much more light than I
|
117 |
had been, before, along the level terrace.
|
|
118 |
At this I asked: Master, tell me, what heavy
|
119 |
weight has been lifted from me, so that I,
|
120 |
in going, notice almost no fatigue? |
|
121 |
He answered: When the P's that still remain
|
122 |
upon your brow now almost all are faint |
123 |
have been completely, like this P. erased,
|
|
124 |
your feet will be so mastered by good will
|
125 |
that they not only will not feel travail |
126 |
but will delight when they are urged uphill.
|
|
127 |
Then I behaved like those who make their way
|
128 |
with something on their head of which they're not
|
129 |
aware, till others' signs make them suspicious,
|
|
130 |
at which, the hand helps them to ascertain;
|
131 |
it seeks and finds and touches and provides
|
132 |
the services that sight cannot supply; |
|
133 |
so, with my right hand's outspread fingers, I
|
134 |
found just six of the letters once inscribed
|
135 |
by him who holds the keys, upon my forehead;
|
|
136 |
and as he watched me do this, my guide smiled. |
|
|