Authors: Dante
Purgatorio (10 page)
I saw Count Orso, and that soul severed
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from its body both by spite and envy,
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or so he said, and not for any crime—
Pierre de la Brosse. And let the Lady
of Brabant be mindful, while she remains on earth,
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lest she be made to join a flock far worse.
As soon as I was free of all those shades,
whose only prayer it was that others pray
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and speed them on to blessedness,
I began: ‘O my light, it seems to me,
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that in a certain passage you explicitly deny
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that prayer can bend decrees of Heaven,
‘and yet these people pray for that alone.
Will this their hope, then, be in vain,
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or are your words not really clear to me?’
He answered: ‘Plain is my writing
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and their hopes not false
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if with a sound mind you examine it,
‘for not demeaned or lessened is high justice
if in one instant love’s bright fire achieves
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what they who sojourn here must satisfy.
‘And there where I affirmed that point
defect was not made good by prayer
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because that prayer did not ascend to God.
‘But do not let these doubts beset you
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with high questions before you hear from her
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who shall be light between the truth and intellect—
‘I don’t know if you understand: I speak of Beatrice.
You shall see her above, upon the summit
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of this mountain, smiling and in bliss.’
Then I: ‘My lord, let us go on more quickly,
for now I am not wearied as I was,
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and look, the hill already casts a shadow.’
‘We will go on as long as this day lasts,’
he answered, ‘as far as we still can,
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but the truth is other than you think.
‘Before you reach the top you’ll see again
the one whose beams you do not break
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because he is now hidden by the slope.
‘But see that soul there seated all alone
who looks in our direction.
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He will let us know the shortest way.’
We came up to him. O Lombard soul, how lofty
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and disdainful was your bearing,
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and in the calmness of your eyes, what dignity!
Nevertheless, Virgil drew up closer,
asking him to point us to the best ascent.
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To this request he gave no answer
but asked about our country and condition.
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My gentle guide began: ‘Mantua—’
leaped toward him from his place, saying:
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‘O Mantuan, I am Sordello of your city.’
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And the two of them embraced.
Ah, Italy enslaved, abode of misery,
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pilotless ship in a fierce tempest tossed,
How eager was that noble soul,
only at the sweet name of his city,
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to welcome there his fellow citizen!
Now your inhabitants are never free from war,
and those enclosed within a single wall and moat
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are gnawing on each other.
Search, miserable one, around your shores,
then look into your heart,
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if any part of you rejoice in peace.
If there is no one in your saddle, what good
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was it Justinian repaired your harness?
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Your shame would be less great had he not done so.
Ah, you who should be firm in your devotion
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and let Caesar occupy the saddle,
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if you but heeded what God writes for you,
see how vicious is the beast not goaded
and corrected by the spurs,
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ever since you took the bridle in your hands.
O German Albert, who abandon her
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now that she’s untamed and wild,
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you who should bestride her saddle-bow,
may the just sentence falling from the stars
upon your blood be strange enough and clear
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that your successor live in fear of it!
In that far land, both you and your father,
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dragged along by greed, allowed
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the garden of the empire to be laid waste.
Come and see the Montecchi and Cappelletti,
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Monaldi and Filippeschi, those already wretched
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and the ones in dread, you who have no care.
Come, cruel one, come and see the tribulation
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your nobles suffer and consider their distress.
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Then you shall see how dark is Santafiora.
Come and see your Rome and how she weeps,
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widowed and bereft, and cries out day and night:
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‘My Caesar, why are you not with me?’
Come and see your people, how they love
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one another, and, if no pity for us moves you,
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come for shame of your repute.
And if it is lawful to ask, O Jove on high,
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you who were crucified on earth for us,
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are your righteous eyes turned elsewhere,
or, in your abyss of contemplation
are you preparing some mysterious good,
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beyond our comprehension?
For each Italian city overflows with tyrants
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and every clown that plays the partisan
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thinks he is the new Marcellus.
My Florence, you may well be pleased
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with this digression, which does not touch you,
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thanks to the exertions of your people.
Many others have justice in their hearts,
even if its arrow’s late to fly from all their talking,
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but yours have justice ready on their tongues.
Many others refuse the public burden. But yours
are eager with an answer without even being asked,
Count yourself happy then, for you have reason to,
since you are rich, at peace, and wise!
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If I speak truth, the facts cannot deny it.
Athens and Sparta, which made the ancient laws
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and had such civil order, gave only hints
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of a life well lived compared to you,
who make such fine provisions
that the plans you’ve spun but in October
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do not survive to mid-November
How many times within your memory
have you changed laws, coinage, offices,
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as well as customs, and renewed your members!
If you recall your past and think upon it clearly,
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you will see that you are like a woman, ill in bed,
who on the softest down cannot find rest
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but twisting, turning, seeks to ease her pain.
I. Sordello
(continued)