Read The Portable Dante Online
Authors: Dante Alighieri
The Portable Dante (84 page)
I want you to go, ballad, to seek out Love and present yourself with him before my lady, so that my exculpation, which you sing may be explained to her by Love, my lord.
Ballad, you move along so gracefully, you need no company to venture boldly anywhere you like, but if you want to go with full assurance, first make a friend of Love; perhaps to go alone would not be wise, because the lady you are meant to speak to is angry with me now (or so I think),
But sweetly singing, in Love’s company, start with these words (but only after you have begged her for compassion): “My lady, the one who sends me here to you hopes it will be your pleasure to hear me out and judge if he is guilty. I come with Love who, through your beauty’s power, can make your lover’s whole appearance change; now can you see why Love made him look elsewhere? Remember, though, his heart has never strayed. ”
And say to her: “That heart of his, my lady, has been so firmly faithful that every thought keeps him a slave to you; it was early yours, and never changed allegiance. ” If she should not believe you, tell her to question Love, who knows the truth; and end by offering this humble prayer: if granting me forgiveness would offend her, then may her answer sentence me to death, and she will see a faithful slave’s obedience.
And tell Love, who is all compassion’s key, before you take your leave, tell Love, who will know how to plead my case, thanks to the strains of my sweet melody: “Stay here awhile with her, talk to her of your servant as you will; and if your prayer should win for him reprieve, let her clear smile announce that peace is made. ” My gracious ballad, when it please you, go, win yourself honor when the time is ripe.
This ballad is divided into three parts. In the first I tell it where to go and encourage it so that it will go with more assurance, and I tell it whom it should have for company if it wishes to go securely and free from any danger; in the second I tell it what it is supposed to make known; in the third I give it permission to depart whenever it pleases,
commending its journey to the arms of fortune. The second part begins:
But sweetly singing,
the third:
My gracious ballad.
Here one might make the objection that no one can know to whom my words in the second person are addressed, since the ballad is nothing more than the words I myself speak; and so let me say that I intend to explain and discuss this uncertainty in an even more difficult section of this little book; and if anyone may have been in doubt here, perhaps wishing to offer the objection mentioned above, let him understand, ” there, the explanation to apply here as well.
After this last vision, when I had already written what Love commanded me to write, many and diverse thoughts began to assail and try me, against which I was defenseless; among these thoughts were four that seemed to disturb most my peace of mind. The first was this: the lordship of Love is good since he keeps the mind of his faithful servant away from all evil things. The next was this: the lordship of Love is not good because the more fidelity his faithful one shows him, the heavier and more painful are the moments he must live through. Another was this: the name of Love is so sweet to hear that it seems impossible to me that the effect itself should be in most things other than sweet, since, as has often been said, names are the consequences of the things they name:
Nomina sunt consequentia rerum.
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The fourth was this: the lady through whom Love makes you suffer so is not like other ladies, whose hearts can be easily moved to change their attitudes.
And each one of these thoughts attacked me so forcefully that it made me feel like one who does not know what direction to take, who wants to start and does not know which way to go. And as for the idea of trying to find a common road for all of them, that is, one where all might come together, this was completely alien to me: namely, appealing to Pity and throwing myself into her arms. While I was in this mood,
the desire to write some poetry about it came to me, and so I wrote this sonnet which begins:
All my thoughts.
All my thoughts speak to me concerning Love; they have in them such great diversity that one thought makes me welcome all Love’s power, another judges such a lordship folly, another, with its hope, brings me delight, another very often makes me weep; only in craving pity all agree as they tremble with the fear that grips my heart.
I do not know from which to take my theme; I want to speak, but what is there to say? Thus do I wander in a maze of Love! And if I want to harmonize them all, I am forced to call upon my enemy, Lady Pity, to come to my defense.
This sonnet can be divided into four parts. In the first I say and submit that all my thoughts are about Love; in the second I say that they are different, and I talk about their differences; in the third I tell what they all seem to have in common; in the fourth I say that, wishing to speak of Love, I do not know where to begin, and if I wish to take my theme from all my thoughts, I would be forced to call upon my enemy, my Lady Pity—and I use the term “my lady” rather scornfully. The second part begins:
they have in them;
the third:
only in craving;
the fourth:
I
do not know.
After the battle
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of the conflicting thoughts it happened that my most gracious lady was present where many gentlewomen were gathered. I was taken there by a friend who thought I would be delighted to go to a place where so many beautiful ladies were. I was not sure why I was being taken there but, trusting in the person who had led his friend to
the threshold of death, I asked him: “Why have we come to see these ladies?” He answered: “So that they may be fittingly attended. ” The fact is that they were gathered there to be with a certain lovely lady who had been married that day, for according to the custom of the afore-mentioned city
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they were supposed to keep her company during the first meal at the home of her bridegroom. So I, thinking to please my friend, decided to remain with him in attendance upon the ladies. No sooner had I reached this decision than I seemed to feel a strange throbbing which began in the left side of my breast and immediately spread to all parts of my body. Then, pretending to act naturally, I leaned for support against a painted surface that extended along the walls of the house and, fearing that people might have become aware of my trembling, I raised my eyes and, looking at the ladies, I saw among them the most gracious Beatrice. Then my spirits were so disrupted
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by the strength Love acquired when he saw himself this close to the most gracious lady, that none survived except the spirits of sight; and even these were driven forth, because Love desired to occupy their enviable post in order to behold the marvelous lady. And even though I was not quite myself, I was still very sorry for these little spirits who bitterly protested, saying: “If this one had not thrust us from our place like a bolt of lightning, we could have stayed to see the wonders of this lady as all our peers are doing. ” Now many of the ladies present, noticing the transformation I had undergone, were amazed and began to talk about it, joking about me with that most gracious one. My friend, who had made a mistake in good faith, took me by the hand and, leading me out of the sight of the ladies, asked me what was wrong. Then I, somewhat restored, for my dead spirits were coming back to life, and the ones ejected were returning to their rightful domain, said these words to my friend: “I have just set foot on that boundary of life beyond which
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no one can go, hoping to return. ” And leaving him, I went back to my room of tears where, weeping in humiliation, I said to myself: “If this lady were aware of my condition, I do not believe she would ridicule my appearance but, on the contrary, would feel pity. ”
In the midst of my tears I thought of writing a few words addressed to her, explaining the reason for the change in my appearance and saying that I was well aware that no one knew the reason and that, if it were known, I believed it would arouse everyone’s compassion; I decided to write this in the hope that my words by chance would reach her. Then I composed this sonnet which begins:
You join with other ladies.
You join with other ladies to make sport of the way I look, my lady, and do not ask what makes me cut so laughable a figure when I am in the presence of your beauty. If only you knew why, I am sure that Pity would drop her arms and make her peace with me; for Love, when he discovers me near you, takes on a cruel, bold new confidence
and puts my frightened senses to the sword, by slaying this one, driving that one out, till only he is left to look at you. Thus, by the changeling Love, I have been changed, but not so much that I cannot still hear my outcast senses mourning in their pain.
I do not divide this sonnet into parts, since this is done only to help reveal the meaning of the thing divided; and since what has been said about its occasion is sufficiently clear, there is no need for division. True, among the words with which I relate the occasion for this sonnet, there occur certain expressions difficult to understand, as when I say that Love slays all my spirits and the spirits of sight remain alive, though driven outside their organs. But it is impossible to make this clear to anyone who is not as faithful a follower of Love as I; to those who are, the solution to the difficulty is already obvious. Therefore, there is no need for me to clear up such difficulties, for my words of clarification would be either meaningless or superfluous.
After that strange transformation a certain thought began to oppress my mind; it seldom left me but rather continually nagged at me, and it
took form in this way: “Since you become so ridiculous-looking whenever you are near this lady, why do you keep trying to see her? Now assume that she were to ask you this, and that all your faculties were free to answer her, what would your answer be?” And to this another thought replied, saying modestly, “If I did not lose my wits and felt able to answer her, I would tell her that as soon as I call to mind the miraculous image of her beauty, then the desire to see her overcomes me, a desire so powerful that it kills, it destroys anything in my memory that might have been able to restrain it; and that is why what I have suffered in the past does not keep me from trying to see her. ” Moved by such thoughts, I decided to write a few words in which I would acquit myself of the accusation suggested by the first thought, and also describe what happens to me whenever I am near her. Then I wrote this sonnet which begins:
Whatever might restrain me.
Whatever might restrain me when I’m drawn to see you, my heart’s bliss, dies from my mind. When I come close to you, I hear Love’s warning: “Unless you want to die now, run away!” My blanching face reveals my fainting heart which weakly seeks support from where it may, and as I tremble in this drunken state the stones in the wall I lean on shout back: “Die!”
He sins who witnesses my transformation and will not comfort my tormented soul, at least by showing that he shares my grief for pity’s sake—which by your mocking dies, once it is brought to life by my dying face, whose yearning eyes beg death to take me now.
This sonnet is divided into two parts. In the first I explain why I do not keep myself from seeking this lady’s company; in the second I tell what happens to me when I go near her, and this part begins:
When I come close.
This second part can be further divided into five sections, according to five different themes. In the first I tell what Love, counseled by reason, says to me whenever I am near her; in the second I describe the condition of my heart by reference to my face; in the third I tell how all assurance grows faint in me; in the fourth I say that he sins who does not show pity, which might be of some comfort to me; in the last part I tell why others should have pity, namely, because of the piteous
look which fills my eyes. But this piteous look is wasted; it is never really seen by anyone, all because of the mockery of this lady who causes others, who perhaps might have noticed this piteousness, to do as she does. The second part begins:
My blanching face;
the third:
and as I tremble;
the fourth:
He sins;
the fifth:
for pity’s sake.
Soon after completing this sonnet I was moved by a desire to write more poetry, in which I would mention four more things concerning my condition which, it seemed to me, I had not yet made clear. The first of these is that many times I suffered when my memory excited my imagination to re-evoke the transformations that Love worked in me. The second is that Love, frequently and without warning, attacked me so violently that no part of me remained alive except one thought that spoke of this lady. The third is that when this battle of Love raged within me so, I would go, pale and haggard, to look upon this lady, believing that the sight of her would defend me in this battle,
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forgetting what happened to me whenever I approached such graciousness. The fourth is that not only did the sight of her not defend me: it ultimately annihilated the little life I had left. And so I wrote this sonnet which begins:
Time and again.
Time and again the thought comes to my mind of the dark condition Love imparts to me; then the pity of it strikes me, and I ask: “Could ever anyone have felt the same?” For Love’s attack is so precipitous that life itself all but abandons me: nothing survives except one lonely spirit, allowed to live because it speaks of you.
With hope of help to come I gather courage, and deathly languid, drained of all defenses, I come to you expecting to be healed; and if I raise my eyes to look at you,
within my heart a tremor starts to spread, driving out life, stopping my pulses’ beat.
This sonnet is divided into four parts according to the four things it treats, and since these are explained above, I concern myself only with indicating the parts by their beginnings; accordingly, the second part begins:
For Love’s attack;
the third:
With hope of help;
the fourth:
and if I raise.