Authors: Dante
Purgatorio (17 page)
My eyes beheld the one, created nobler
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than any other creature, fall like lightning
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from the sky, over to one side.
My eyes beheld Briarèus, on the other,
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transfixed by the celestial bolt,
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now heavy on the earth in chill of death.
My eyes beheld Thymbraeus, Pallas, and Mars,
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still armed, together with their father,
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astounded by the giants’ scattered limbs.
My eyes beheld Nimrod at the base of his great work,
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as though bewildered, and the people,
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who in Shinar shared his pride, all looking on.
Ah, Niobe, I saw you sculpted in the roadway,
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your eyes welling up with grief,
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amidst your dead, seven sons and seven daughters.
Ah, Saul, you too appeared there, dead
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on your own sword in the mountains of Gilboa,
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which never after knew the rain or dew.
Ah, mad Arachne, I saw you all but turned
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to spider, wretched on the strands
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you spun, which did you so much harm.
Ah, Rehoboam, now your image does not seem
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to menace but to cower. A chariot bears it off—
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and there is no one giving chase.
Now was shown, on that hard floor,
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how Alcmaeon made that necklace, ill-omened,
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seem not worth the price his mother paid.
Now was shown how his sons fell upon
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Sennacherib inside the temple,
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and how, slain, they left him there.
Now was shown the destruction and cruel slaughter
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wrought by Tomyris when she said to Cyrus:
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‘You thirsted for blood. Now drink your fill.’
Now was shown the Assyrians routed and in flight
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after the slaying of Holofernes
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and the leavings of that slaughter.
My eyes beheld Troy in ashes and in ruins.
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Ah, Ilion, how reduced and shamed you were
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now was shown within the carving.
What master of the brush and stylus
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could have designed these forms and outlines
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that would astound the most discerning talent?
Dead seemed the dead, living seemed the living.
He who beheld the real events on which I walked,
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head bent, saw them no better than did I.
Wax proud then, go your way with head held high,
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you sons of Eve, and no, do not bend down your face
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and so reflect upon your evil path!
We had done more of the mountain’s circle
and the sun had sped along its track
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more than my mind, being bound, had reckoned,
when he, who always fixed his gaze before him
as he went, spoke out: ‘Raise your head!
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‘See the angel over there, preparing
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to approach. See the sixth handmaid who returns
‘Show reverence in your face and bearing
so that he may be pleased to send us upward.
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Consider that this day will never dawn again.’
I was accustomed to his admonitions
not to waste my time, so that on this matter
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his words were not obscure.
The fair creature, garbed in white,
came toward us. In his face there was what seemed
Opening his arms, he spread his wings
and said: ‘Come, the steps are here at hand.
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From here on up the climb is easy.
‘They are very few who answer to this bidding.
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O race of man, born to fly on high,
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how can a puff of wind cause you to fall?’
He brought us where the rock was cleft,
there tapped my forehead with his wings,
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then promised me that going on I would be safe.
Just as, to climb the hillside where the church is set
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which, over Rubaconte, dominates
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the justly governed city, there on the right
the sheer slope of the steep ascent is cut
by stairs that were constructed in a time
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when registers and measures could be trusted,
even so the bank that sharply falls away
from the higher circle is made gentler, except
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that here and there the towering rock scrapes close.
While we were moving off in that direction,
‘Beati pauperes spiritu’
a voice was singing
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Ah, how different these entrances from those of hell,
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for here one’s coming in is met with songs
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but there with savage lamentation!
Now we were climbing on the hallowed stairs
and I felt so much lighter than before,
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when the ground I trod was level,
that I said: ‘Master, tell me,
what weight has been lifted from me
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that going on is hardly any effort?’
He answered: ‘When the P’s that still remain
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upon your brow, though very faint, shall be,
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as one already is, erased,
‘your legs shall be so mastered by good will,
not only will they feel no effort going up,
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but they will take delight in being urged to.’
Then I did as those who go along,
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with something on their head, unknown to them,
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unless its effect on others makes them wonder,
so that they reach up with their hand for answers.
Touching and searching they accomplish
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the task that sight cannot achieve,
and, spreading the fingers of my right hand,
I found that, of the seven letters he of the keys
had traced upon my forehead, only six remained.
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Observing this, my leader smiled.
I. The setting
II. Exemplars of Charity
III. The penitent envious
captatio
and hope to hear from any Italians here
IV. A penitent of envy tells her tale
’s narrative of her envy and late repentance