he goes in search of liberty—so precious
DIVINE COMEDY:
PURGATORIO
PURGATORIO
Purgatorio
The Purgatory illustrations made by Fáy Dezső present a square representation generally divided into two parts, clearly defining the middle world.
The English translation of the text of The Divine Comedy is by U.S. professor, poet and literary critic Allen Mandelbaum.
The English translation of the text of The Divine Comedy is by U.S. professor, poet and literary critic Allen Mandelbaum.
I saw a solitary patriarch
near me—his aspect worthy of such reverence
that even son to father owes no more.
His beard was long and mixed with white, as were
the hairs upon his head; and his hair spread
down to his chest in a divided tress.
The rays of the four holy stars so framed
his face with light that in my sight he seemed
like one who is confronted by the sun.
(Canto I, 31-39)
There, just as pleased another, he girt me.
O wonder! Where he plucked the humble plant
(Canto I, 133-134)
Then, to each side of it, I saw a whiteness,
though I did not know what that whiteness was;
below, another whiteness slowly showed.
My master did not say a word before
the whitenesses first seen appeared as wings;
but then, when he had recognized the helmsman,
he cried: “Bend, bend your knees: behold the angel
of God, and join your hands; from this point on,
this is the kind of minister you’ll meet.
(Canto II, 22-30)
near me—his aspect worthy of such reverence
that even son to father owes no more.
His beard was long and mixed with white, as were
the hairs upon his head; and his hair spread
down to his chest in a divided tress.
The rays of the four holy stars so framed
his face with light that in my sight he seemed
like one who is confronted by the sun.
(Canto I, 31-39)
There, just as pleased another, he girt me.
O wonder! Where he plucked the humble plant
(Canto I, 133-134)
Then, to each side of it, I saw a whiteness,
though I did not know what that whiteness was;
below, another whiteness slowly showed.
My master did not say a word before
the whitenesses first seen appeared as wings;
but then, when he had recognized the helmsman,
he cried: “Bend, bend your knees: behold the angel
of God, and join your hands; from this point on,
this is the kind of minister you’ll meet.
(Canto II, 22-30)
Purgatorio, Canto I-II
PKL'2014.3.15.
Purgatorio, Canto III-IV
PIM- PKL'2014.3.16.
While he, his eyes upon the ground, consulted
his mind, considering what road to take,
and I looked up around the wall of rock,
along the left a band of souls appeared
to me to be approaching us—but so
unhurriedly, their movements did not show.
(Canto III, 55-60)
And one of them began: “Whoever you
may be, as you move forward, turn and see:
consider if—beyond—you’ve ever seen me.”
I turned to look at him attentively:
he was fair—haired and handsome and his aspect
was noble—but one eyebrow had been cleft
by a swordstroke. When I had humbly noted
that I had never seen him, he said: “Look
now”—showing me a wound high on his chest.
Then, as he smiled, he told me: “I am Manfred,
the grandson of the Empress Constance; thus,
I pray that, when you reach the world again,
you may go to my lovely daughter, mother
of kings of Sicily and Aragon—
tell her the truth, lest she’s heard something other.
(Canto III, 103- 117)
My sins were ghastly, but the Infinite
Goodness has arms so wide that It accepts
who ever would return, imploring It.
And if Cosenza’s pastor, who was sent
to hunt me down—alive or dead—by Clement,
had understood this facet of God’s mercy,
my body’s bones would still be there—beneath
the custody of the great heap of stones—
near Benevento, at the bridgehead; now
(Canto III, 121-129)
We made our way toward it and toward the people
who lounged behind that boulder in the shade,
as men beset by listlessness will rest.
And one of them, who seemed to me exhausted,
was sitting with his arms around his knees;
between his knees, he kept his head bent down.
“O my sweet lord,” I said, “look carefully
at one who shows himself more languid than
he would have been were laziness his sister!”
(Canto IV, 103-111)
his mind, considering what road to take,
and I looked up around the wall of rock,
along the left a band of souls appeared
to me to be approaching us—but so
unhurriedly, their movements did not show.
(Canto III, 55-60)
And one of them began: “Whoever you
may be, as you move forward, turn and see:
consider if—beyond—you’ve ever seen me.”
I turned to look at him attentively:
he was fair—haired and handsome and his aspect
was noble—but one eyebrow had been cleft
by a swordstroke. When I had humbly noted
that I had never seen him, he said: “Look
now”—showing me a wound high on his chest.
Then, as he smiled, he told me: “I am Manfred,
the grandson of the Empress Constance; thus,
I pray that, when you reach the world again,
you may go to my lovely daughter, mother
of kings of Sicily and Aragon—
tell her the truth, lest she’s heard something other.
(Canto III, 103- 117)
My sins were ghastly, but the Infinite
Goodness has arms so wide that It accepts
who ever would return, imploring It.
And if Cosenza’s pastor, who was sent
to hunt me down—alive or dead—by Clement,
had understood this facet of God’s mercy,
my body’s bones would still be there—beneath
the custody of the great heap of stones—
near Benevento, at the bridgehead; now
(Canto III, 121-129)
We made our way toward it and toward the people
who lounged behind that boulder in the shade,
as men beset by listlessness will rest.
And one of them, who seemed to me exhausted,
was sitting with his arms around his knees;
between his knees, he kept his head bent down.
“O my sweet lord,” I said, “look carefully
at one who shows himself more languid than
he would have been were laziness his sister!”
(Canto IV, 103-111)
From this bank, you’ll be better able to
make out the acts and features of them all
than if you were to join them in the hollow.
He who is seated highest, with the look
of one too lax in what he undertook—
whose mouth, although the rest sing, does not move
was Emperor Rudolph, one who could have healed
the wounds that were the death of Italy,
so that another, later, must restore her.
His neighbor, whose appearance comforts him,
governed the land in which are born the waters
the Moldau carries to the Elbe and
the Elbe to the sea: named Ottokar—
in swaddling—bands he was more valiant than
his son, the bearded Wenceslaus, who feeds
on wantonness and ease. That small—nosed man,
who seems so close in counsel with his kindly
friend, died in flight, deflowering the lily:
see how he beats his breast there! And you see
the other shade, who, as he sighs, would rest
his cheek upon his palm as on a bed.
Father and father—in—law of the pest
of France, they know his life—its filth, its vice;
out of that knowledge grows the grief that has
pierced them. That other, who seems so robust
and sings in time with him who has a nose
so manly, wore the cord of every virtue;
and if the young man seated there behind him
had only followed him as king, then valor
might have been poured from vessel unto vessel;
one cannot say this of his other heirs;
his kingdoms now belong to James and Frederick—
but they do not possess his best bequest.
How seldom human worth ascends from branch
to branch, and this is willed by Him who grants
that gift, that one may pray to Him for it!
(Canto VII, 88-123)
emerging and descending from above,
two angels bearing flaming swords, of which
the blades were broken off, without their tips.
Their garments, just as green as newborn leaves,
were agitated, fanned by their green wings,
and trailed behind them; and one angel came
and stood somewhat above us, while the other
descended on the opposite embankment,
flanking that company of souls between them.
My eyes made out their blond heads clearly, but
my sight was dazzled by their faces—just
like any sense bewildered by excess.
“Both come from Mary’s bosom,” said Sordello,
“to serve as the custodians of the valley
against the serpent that will soon appear.”
(Canto VIII, 25-39)
My avid eyes were steadfast, staring at
that portion of the sky where stars are slower,
even as spokes when they approach the axle.
And my guide: “Son, what are you staring at?”
And I replied: “I’m watching those three torches
with which this southern pole is all aflame.”
(Canto VIII, 85-90)
make out the acts and features of them all
than if you were to join them in the hollow.
He who is seated highest, with the look
of one too lax in what he undertook—
whose mouth, although the rest sing, does not move
was Emperor Rudolph, one who could have healed
the wounds that were the death of Italy,
so that another, later, must restore her.
His neighbor, whose appearance comforts him,
governed the land in which are born the waters
the Moldau carries to the Elbe and
the Elbe to the sea: named Ottokar—
in swaddling—bands he was more valiant than
his son, the bearded Wenceslaus, who feeds
on wantonness and ease. That small—nosed man,
who seems so close in counsel with his kindly
friend, died in flight, deflowering the lily:
see how he beats his breast there! And you see
the other shade, who, as he sighs, would rest
his cheek upon his palm as on a bed.
Father and father—in—law of the pest
of France, they know his life—its filth, its vice;
out of that knowledge grows the grief that has
pierced them. That other, who seems so robust
and sings in time with him who has a nose
so manly, wore the cord of every virtue;
and if the young man seated there behind him
had only followed him as king, then valor
might have been poured from vessel unto vessel;
one cannot say this of his other heirs;
his kingdoms now belong to James and Frederick—
but they do not possess his best bequest.
How seldom human worth ascends from branch
to branch, and this is willed by Him who grants
that gift, that one may pray to Him for it!
(Canto VII, 88-123)
emerging and descending from above,
two angels bearing flaming swords, of which
the blades were broken off, without their tips.
Their garments, just as green as newborn leaves,
were agitated, fanned by their green wings,
and trailed behind them; and one angel came
and stood somewhat above us, while the other
descended on the opposite embankment,
flanking that company of souls between them.
My eyes made out their blond heads clearly, but
my sight was dazzled by their faces—just
like any sense bewildered by excess.
“Both come from Mary’s bosom,” said Sordello,
“to serve as the custodians of the valley
against the serpent that will soon appear.”
(Canto VIII, 25-39)
My avid eyes were steadfast, staring at
that portion of the sky where stars are slower,
even as spokes when they approach the axle.
And my guide: “Son, what are you staring at?”
And I replied: “I’m watching those three torches
with which this southern pole is all aflame.”
(Canto VIII, 85-90)
Purgatorio, Canto VII-VIII
PIM- PKL'2014.3.17.
Purgatorio, Canto IX
PIM- PKL'2014.3.18.
in dream I seemed to see an eagle poised,
with golden pinions, in the sky: its wings
were open; it was ready to swoop down.
And I seemed to be there where Ganymede
deserted his own family when he
was snatched up for the high consistory.
Within myself I thought: “This eagle may
be used to hunting only here; its claws
refuse to carry upward any prey
found elsewhere.” Then it seemed to me that, wheeling
slightly and terrible as lightning, it
swooped, snatching me up to the fire’s orbit.
And there it seemed that he and I were burning;
and this imagined conflagration scorched
me so—I was compelled to break my sleep.
(Canto IX, 19-33)
You have already come to Purgatory:
see there the rampart wall enclosing it;
see, where that wall is breached, the point of entry.
Before, at dawn that ushers in the day,
when soul was sleeping in your body, on
the flowers that adorn the ground below,
a lady came; she said: ‘I am Lucia;
let me take hold of him who is asleep,
that I may help to speed him on his way.’
(Canto IX, 49- 57)
I now made out a gate and, there below it,
three steps—their colors different—leading to it,
and a custodian who had not yet spoken.
As I looked more and more directly at him,
I saw him seated on the upper step—
his face so radiant, I could not bear it;
and in his hand he held a naked sword,
which so reflected rays toward us that I,
time and again, tried to sustain that sight
in vain. “Speak out from there; what are you seeking?”
so he began to speak. “Where is your escort?
Take care lest you be harmed by climbing here.”
My master answered him: “But just before,
a lady came from Heaven and, familiar
with these things, told us: ‘That’s the gate; go there.'”
“And may she speed you on your path of goodness!”
the gracious guardian of the gate began
again. “Come forward, therefore, to our stairs.”
(Canto IX, 76-93)
I threw myself devoutly at his holy
feet, asking him to open out of mercy;
but first I beat three times upon my breast.
Upon my forehead, he traced seven P’s
with his sword’s point and said: “When you have entered
within, take care to wash away these wounds.”
Ashes, or dry earth that has just been quarried,
would share one color with his robe, and from
beneath that robe he drew two keys; the one
was made of gold, the other was of silver;
first with the white, then with the yellow key,
he plied the gate so as to satisfy me.
“Whenever one of these keys fails, not turning
appropriately in the lock,” he said
to us, “this gate of entry does not open.
One is more precious, but the other needs
much art and skill before it will unlock—
that is the key that must undo the knot.
These I received from Peter; and he taught me
rather to err in opening than in keeping
this portal shut-whenever souls pray humbly.”
(Canto IX, 109-129)
with golden pinions, in the sky: its wings
were open; it was ready to swoop down.
And I seemed to be there where Ganymede
deserted his own family when he
was snatched up for the high consistory.
Within myself I thought: “This eagle may
be used to hunting only here; its claws
refuse to carry upward any prey
found elsewhere.” Then it seemed to me that, wheeling
slightly and terrible as lightning, it
swooped, snatching me up to the fire’s orbit.
And there it seemed that he and I were burning;
and this imagined conflagration scorched
me so—I was compelled to break my sleep.
(Canto IX, 19-33)
You have already come to Purgatory:
see there the rampart wall enclosing it;
see, where that wall is breached, the point of entry.
Before, at dawn that ushers in the day,
when soul was sleeping in your body, on
the flowers that adorn the ground below,
a lady came; she said: ‘I am Lucia;
let me take hold of him who is asleep,
that I may help to speed him on his way.’
(Canto IX, 49- 57)
I now made out a gate and, there below it,
three steps—their colors different—leading to it,
and a custodian who had not yet spoken.
As I looked more and more directly at him,
I saw him seated on the upper step—
his face so radiant, I could not bear it;
and in his hand he held a naked sword,
which so reflected rays toward us that I,
time and again, tried to sustain that sight
in vain. “Speak out from there; what are you seeking?”
so he began to speak. “Where is your escort?
Take care lest you be harmed by climbing here.”
My master answered him: “But just before,
a lady came from Heaven and, familiar
with these things, told us: ‘That’s the gate; go there.'”
“And may she speed you on your path of goodness!”
the gracious guardian of the gate began
again. “Come forward, therefore, to our stairs.”
(Canto IX, 76-93)
I threw myself devoutly at his holy
feet, asking him to open out of mercy;
but first I beat three times upon my breast.
Upon my forehead, he traced seven P’s
with his sword’s point and said: “When you have entered
within, take care to wash away these wounds.”
Ashes, or dry earth that has just been quarried,
would share one color with his robe, and from
beneath that robe he drew two keys; the one
was made of gold, the other was of silver;
first with the white, then with the yellow key,
he plied the gate so as to satisfy me.
“Whenever one of these keys fails, not turning
appropriately in the lock,” he said
to us, “this gate of entry does not open.
One is more precious, but the other needs
much art and skill before it will unlock—
that is the key that must undo the knot.
These I received from Peter; and he taught me
rather to err in opening than in keeping
this portal shut-whenever souls pray humbly.”
(Canto IX, 109-129)
And there the noble action of a Roman
prince was presented—he whose worth had urged
on Gregory to his great victory—
I mean the Emperor Trajan; and a poor
widow was near his bridle, and she stood
even as one in tears and sadness would.
(Canto X, 73-78)
While I took much delight in witnessing
these effigies of true humility—
dear, too, to see because He was their Maker—
the poet murmured: “See the multitude
advancing, though with slow steps, on this side:
they will direct us to the higher stairs.”
(Canto X, 97-102)
“Master,” I said, “what I see moving toward us
does not appear to me like people, but
I can’t tell what is there—my sight’s bewildered.”
And he to me: “Whatever makes them suffer
their heavy torment bends them to the ground;
at first I was unsure of what they were.
But look intently there, and let your eyes
unravel what’s beneath those stones: you can
already see what penalty strikes each.”
(Canto X, 112-120)
Beseeching, thus, good penitence for us
and for themselves, those shades moved on beneath
their weights, like those we sometimes bear in dreams-
each in his own degree of suffering
but all, exhausted, circling the first terrace,
purging themselves of this world’s scoriae.
(Canto XI, 25-30)
I saw Troy turned to caverns and to ashes;
O Ilium, your effigy in stone—
it showed you there so squalid, so cast down!
What master of the brush or of the stylus
had there portrayed such masses, such outlines
as would astonish all discerning minds?
(Canto XII, 61-66)
We now had circled round more of the mountain
and much more of the sun’s course had been crossed
than I, my mind absorbed, had gauged, when he
who always looked ahead insistently,
as he advanced, began: “Lift up your eyes;
it’s time to set these images aside.
See there an angel hurrying to meet us,
and also see the sixth of the handmaidens
returning from her service to the day.
(Canto XII, 73-81)
prince was presented—he whose worth had urged
on Gregory to his great victory—
I mean the Emperor Trajan; and a poor
widow was near his bridle, and she stood
even as one in tears and sadness would.
(Canto X, 73-78)
While I took much delight in witnessing
these effigies of true humility—
dear, too, to see because He was their Maker—
the poet murmured: “See the multitude
advancing, though with slow steps, on this side:
they will direct us to the higher stairs.”
(Canto X, 97-102)
“Master,” I said, “what I see moving toward us
does not appear to me like people, but
I can’t tell what is there—my sight’s bewildered.”
And he to me: “Whatever makes them suffer
their heavy torment bends them to the ground;
at first I was unsure of what they were.
But look intently there, and let your eyes
unravel what’s beneath those stones: you can
already see what penalty strikes each.”
(Canto X, 112-120)
Beseeching, thus, good penitence for us
and for themselves, those shades moved on beneath
their weights, like those we sometimes bear in dreams-
each in his own degree of suffering
but all, exhausted, circling the first terrace,
purging themselves of this world’s scoriae.
(Canto XI, 25-30)
I saw Troy turned to caverns and to ashes;
O Ilium, your effigy in stone—
it showed you there so squalid, so cast down!
What master of the brush or of the stylus
had there portrayed such masses, such outlines
as would astonish all discerning minds?
(Canto XII, 61-66)
We now had circled round more of the mountain
and much more of the sun’s course had been crossed
than I, my mind absorbed, had gauged, when he
who always looked ahead insistently,
as he advanced, began: “Lift up your eyes;
it’s time to set these images aside.
See there an angel hurrying to meet us,
and also see the sixth of the handmaidens
returning from her service to the day.
(Canto XII, 73-81)
Purgatorio, Canto X-XI- XII
PIM- PKL'2014.3.19.
Purgatorio, Canto XIII-XIV
PIM- PKL'2014.3.20.
“O gentle light, through trust in which I enter
on this new path, may you conduct us here,”
he said, “for men need guidance in this place.
You warm the world and you illumine it;
unless a higher Power urge us elsewhere,
your rays must always be the guides that lead.”
(Canto XIII, 16-21)
“What voices are these, father?” were my words;
and as I asked him this, I heard a third
voice say: “Love those by whom you have been hurt.”
And my good master said: “The sin of envy
is scourged within this circle; thus, the cords
that form the scourging lash are plied by love.
The sounds of punished envy, envy curbed,
are different; if I judge right, you’ll hear
those sounds before we reach the pass of pardon.
But let your eyes be fixed attentively
and, through the air, you will see people seated
before us, all of them on the stone terrace.”
(Canto XIII, 34-45)
And I: “Through central Tuscany there spreads
a little stream first born in Falterona;
one hundred miles can’t fill the course it needs.
I bring this body from that river’s banks;
to tell you who I am would be to speak
in vain—my name has not yet gained much fame.”
“If, with my understanding, I have seized
your meaning properly,” replied to me
the one who’d spoken first, “you mean the Arno.”
(Canto XIV, 16-24)
their evil custom goads them so; therefore,
the nature of that squalid valley’s people
has changed, as if they were in Circe’s pasture.
That river starts its miserable course
among foul hogs, more fit for acorns than
for food devised to serve the needs of man.
Then, as that stream descends, it comes on curs
that, though their force is feeble, snap and snarl;
scornful of them, it swerves its snout away.
And, downward, it flows on; and when that ditch,
ill-fated and accursed, grows wider, it
finds, more and more, the dogs becoming wolves.
Descending then through many dark ravines,
it comes on foxes so full of deceit—
there is no trap that they cannot defeat.
(Canto XIV, 40-54)
on this new path, may you conduct us here,”
he said, “for men need guidance in this place.
You warm the world and you illumine it;
unless a higher Power urge us elsewhere,
your rays must always be the guides that lead.”
(Canto XIII, 16-21)
“What voices are these, father?” were my words;
and as I asked him this, I heard a third
voice say: “Love those by whom you have been hurt.”
And my good master said: “The sin of envy
is scourged within this circle; thus, the cords
that form the scourging lash are plied by love.
The sounds of punished envy, envy curbed,
are different; if I judge right, you’ll hear
those sounds before we reach the pass of pardon.
But let your eyes be fixed attentively
and, through the air, you will see people seated
before us, all of them on the stone terrace.”
(Canto XIII, 34-45)
And I: “Through central Tuscany there spreads
a little stream first born in Falterona;
one hundred miles can’t fill the course it needs.
I bring this body from that river’s banks;
to tell you who I am would be to speak
in vain—my name has not yet gained much fame.”
“If, with my understanding, I have seized
your meaning properly,” replied to me
the one who’d spoken first, “you mean the Arno.”
(Canto XIV, 16-24)
their evil custom goads them so; therefore,
the nature of that squalid valley’s people
has changed, as if they were in Circe’s pasture.
That river starts its miserable course
among foul hogs, more fit for acorns than
for food devised to serve the needs of man.
Then, as that stream descends, it comes on curs
that, though their force is feeble, snap and snarl;
scornful of them, it swerves its snout away.
And, downward, it flows on; and when that ditch,
ill-fated and accursed, grows wider, it
finds, more and more, the dogs becoming wolves.
Descending then through many dark ravines,
it comes on foxes so full of deceit—
there is no trap that they cannot defeat.
(Canto XIV, 40-54)
“Kind father, what is that against which I
have tried in vain,” I said, “to screen my eyes?
It seems to move toward us.” And he replied:
“Don’t wonder if you are still dazzled by
the family of Heaven: a messenger
has come, and he invites us to ascend.
(Canto XV, 25-30)
There I seemed, suddenly, to be caught up
in an ecstatic vision and to see
some people in a temple; and a woman
just at the threshold, in the gentle manner
that mothers use, was saying: “O my son,
why have you done this to us? You can see
(Canto XV, 85-90)
Next I saw people whom the fire of wrath
had kindled, as they stoned a youth and kept
on shouting loudly to each other: “Kill!”
“Kill!” “Kill!” I saw him now, weighed down by death,
sink to the ground, although his eyes were bent
always on Heaven—they were Heaven’s gates—
praying to his high Lord, despite the torture,
to pardon those who were his persecutors;
his look was such that it unlocked compassion.
(Canto XV, 106-114)
The laws exist, but who applies them now?
No one—the shepherd who precedes his flock
can chew the cud but does not have cleft hooves;
and thus the people, who can see their guide
snatch only at that good for which they feel
some greed, would feed on that and seek no further.
Misrule, you see, has caused the world to be
malevolent; the cause is clearly not
celestial forces—they do not corrupt.
For Rome, which made the world good, used to have
two suns; and they made visible two paths—
the world’s path and the pathway that is God’s.
Each has eclipsed the other; now the sword
has joined the shepherd’s crook; the two together
must of necessity result in evil,
because, so joined, one need not fear the other:
and if you doubt me, watch the fruit and flower,
for every plant is known by what it seeds.
(Canto XVI, 97-114)
Within my fantasy I saw impressed
the savagery of one who then, transformed,
became the bird that most delights in song;
at this, my mind withdrew to the within,
to what imagining might bring; no thing
that came from the without could enter in.
Then into my deep fantasy there rained
one who was crucified; and as he died,
he showed his savagery and his disdain.
Around him were great Ahasuerus and
Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai,
whose saying and whose doing were so upright.
(Canto XVII, 19-30)
have tried in vain,” I said, “to screen my eyes?
It seems to move toward us.” And he replied:
“Don’t wonder if you are still dazzled by
the family of Heaven: a messenger
has come, and he invites us to ascend.
(Canto XV, 25-30)
There I seemed, suddenly, to be caught up
in an ecstatic vision and to see
some people in a temple; and a woman
just at the threshold, in the gentle manner
that mothers use, was saying: “O my son,
why have you done this to us? You can see
(Canto XV, 85-90)
Next I saw people whom the fire of wrath
had kindled, as they stoned a youth and kept
on shouting loudly to each other: “Kill!”
“Kill!” “Kill!” I saw him now, weighed down by death,
sink to the ground, although his eyes were bent
always on Heaven—they were Heaven’s gates—
praying to his high Lord, despite the torture,
to pardon those who were his persecutors;
his look was such that it unlocked compassion.
(Canto XV, 106-114)
The laws exist, but who applies them now?
No one—the shepherd who precedes his flock
can chew the cud but does not have cleft hooves;
and thus the people, who can see their guide
snatch only at that good for which they feel
some greed, would feed on that and seek no further.
Misrule, you see, has caused the world to be
malevolent; the cause is clearly not
celestial forces—they do not corrupt.
For Rome, which made the world good, used to have
two suns; and they made visible two paths—
the world’s path and the pathway that is God’s.
Each has eclipsed the other; now the sword
has joined the shepherd’s crook; the two together
must of necessity result in evil,
because, so joined, one need not fear the other:
and if you doubt me, watch the fruit and flower,
for every plant is known by what it seeds.
(Canto XVI, 97-114)
Within my fantasy I saw impressed
the savagery of one who then, transformed,
became the bird that most delights in song;
at this, my mind withdrew to the within,
to what imagining might bring; no thing
that came from the without could enter in.
Then into my deep fantasy there rained
one who was crucified; and as he died,
he showed his savagery and his disdain.
Around him were great Ahasuerus and
Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai,
whose saying and whose doing were so upright.
(Canto XVII, 19-30)
Purgatorio, Canto XV-XVI-XVII
PIM- PKL'2014.3.21.
Purgatorio, Canto XVIII-XIX
PIM- PKL'2014.3.22.
Just as—of old—Ismenus and Asopus,
at night, along their banks, saw crowds and clamor
whenever Thebans had to summon Bacchus,
such was the arching crowd that curved around
that circle, driven on, as I made out,
by righteous will as well as by just love.
Soon all that mighty throng drew near us, for
they ran and ran; and two, in front of them,
who wept, were crying: “In her journey, Mary
made haste to reach the mountain, and, in order
to conquer Lerida, first Caesar thrust
against Marseilles, and then to Spain he rushed.”
Following them, the others cried: “Quick, quick,
lest time be lost through insufficient love;
where urge for good is keen, grace finds new green.”
(Canto XVIII, 91-105)
“I am,” she sang, “I am the pleasing siren,
who in midsea leads mariners astray—
there is so much delight in hearing me.
I turned aside Ulysses, although he
had longed to journey; who grows used to me
seldom departs—I satisfy him so.”
(Canto XIX, 19-24)
at night, along their banks, saw crowds and clamor
whenever Thebans had to summon Bacchus,
such was the arching crowd that curved around
that circle, driven on, as I made out,
by righteous will as well as by just love.
Soon all that mighty throng drew near us, for
they ran and ran; and two, in front of them,
who wept, were crying: “In her journey, Mary
made haste to reach the mountain, and, in order
to conquer Lerida, first Caesar thrust
against Marseilles, and then to Spain he rushed.”
Following them, the others cried: “Quick, quick,
lest time be lost through insufficient love;
where urge for good is keen, grace finds new green.”
(Canto XVIII, 91-105)
“I am,” she sang, “I am the pleasing siren,
who in midsea leads mariners astray—
there is so much delight in hearing me.
I turned aside Ulysses, although he
had longed to journey; who grows used to me
seldom departs—I satisfy him so.”
(Canto XIX, 19-24)
Her lips were not yet done when, there beside me,
a woman showed herself, alert and saintly,
to cast the siren into much confusion.
“O Virgil, Virgil, tell me: who is this?”
she asked most scornfully; and he came forward,
his eyes intent upon that honest one.
He seized the other, baring her in front,
tearing her clothes, and showing me her belly;
the stench that came from there awakened me.
(Canto XIX, 25-33)
When I was in the clearing, the fifth level,
my eyes discovered people there who wept,
lying upon the ground, all turned face down.
“Adhaesit pavimento anima mea,”
I heard them say with sighs so deep that it
was hard to comprehend the words they spoke.
(Canto XIX, 70-75)
What avarice enacts is here declared
in the purgation of converted souls;
the mountain has no punishment more bitter.
Just as we did not lift our eyes on high
but set our sight on earthly things instead,
so justice here impels our eyes toward earth.
(Canto XIX, 115-120)
The name I bore beyond was Hugh Capet:
of me were born the Louises and Philips
by whom France has been ruled most recently.
I was the son of a Parisian butcher.
When all the line of ancient kings was done
and only one—a monk in gray—survived,
I found the reins that ruled the kingdom tight
within my hands, and I held so much new—
gained power and possessed so many friends
that, to the widowed crown, my own son’s head
was elevated, and from him began
the consecrated bones of all those kings.
(Canto XX, 49-60)
I see a time—not too far off—in which
another Charles advances out of France
to make himself and his descendants famous.
He does not carry weapons when he comes,
only the lance that Judas tilted; this
he couches so—he twists the paunch of Florence.
From this he’ll gain not land, just shame and sin,
which will be all the heavier for him
as he would reckon lightly such disgrace.
The other, who once left his ship as prisoner—
I see him sell his daughter, bargaining
as pirates haggle over female slaves.
O avarice, my house is now your captive:
it traffics in the flesh of its own children—
what more is left for you to do to us?
( Canto XX, 70-84)
a woman showed herself, alert and saintly,
to cast the siren into much confusion.
“O Virgil, Virgil, tell me: who is this?”
she asked most scornfully; and he came forward,
his eyes intent upon that honest one.
He seized the other, baring her in front,
tearing her clothes, and showing me her belly;
the stench that came from there awakened me.
(Canto XIX, 25-33)
When I was in the clearing, the fifth level,
my eyes discovered people there who wept,
lying upon the ground, all turned face down.
“Adhaesit pavimento anima mea,”
I heard them say with sighs so deep that it
was hard to comprehend the words they spoke.
(Canto XIX, 70-75)
What avarice enacts is here declared
in the purgation of converted souls;
the mountain has no punishment more bitter.
Just as we did not lift our eyes on high
but set our sight on earthly things instead,
so justice here impels our eyes toward earth.
(Canto XIX, 115-120)
The name I bore beyond was Hugh Capet:
of me were born the Louises and Philips
by whom France has been ruled most recently.
I was the son of a Parisian butcher.
When all the line of ancient kings was done
and only one—a monk in gray—survived,
I found the reins that ruled the kingdom tight
within my hands, and I held so much new—
gained power and possessed so many friends
that, to the widowed crown, my own son’s head
was elevated, and from him began
the consecrated bones of all those kings.
(Canto XX, 49-60)
I see a time—not too far off—in which
another Charles advances out of France
to make himself and his descendants famous.
He does not carry weapons when he comes,
only the lance that Judas tilted; this
he couches so—he twists the paunch of Florence.
From this he’ll gain not land, just shame and sin,
which will be all the heavier for him
as he would reckon lightly such disgrace.
The other, who once left his ship as prisoner—
I see him sell his daughter, bargaining
as pirates haggle over female slaves.
O avarice, my house is now your captive:
it traffics in the flesh of its own children—
what more is left for you to do to us?
( Canto XX, 70-84)
Purgatorio, Canto XIX-XX
PIM- PKL'2014.3.23.
Purgatorio, Canto XXIII-XXIV
PIM- PKL'2014.3.24.
their eyes seemed like a ring that’s lost its gems;
and he who, in the face of man, would read
OMO would here have recognized the M.
Who—if he knew not how—would have believed
that longing born from odor of a tree,
odor of water, could reduce souls so?
(Canto XXIII, 31-36)
And he to me: “From the eternal counsel,
the water and the tree you left behind
receive the power that makes me waste away.
All of these souls who, grieving, sing because
their appetite was gluttonous, in thirst
and hunger here resanctify themselves.
The fragrance of the fruit and of the water
that’s sprayed through that green tree kindles in us
craving for food and drink; and not once only,
(Canto XXIII, 61-69)
away our faces.” And he pointed: “This
is Bonagiunta, Bonagiunta da
Lucca; the one beyond him, even more
emaciated than the rest, had clasped
the Holy Church; he was from Tours; his fast
purges Bolsena’s eels, Vernaccia’s wine.”
And he named many others, one by one,
and, at their naming, they all seemed content;
so that—for this—no face was overcast.
(Canto XXIV, 19-27)
“Do not be vexed,” he said, “for I can see
the guiltiest of all dragged by a beast’s
tail to the valley where no sin is purged.
At every step the beast moves faster, always
gaining momentum, till it smashes him
and leaves his body squalidly undone.
Those wheels,” and here he looked up at the sky,
“do not have long to turn before you see
plainly what I can’t tell more openly.
(Canto XXIV, 82-90)
and he who, in the face of man, would read
OMO would here have recognized the M.
Who—if he knew not how—would have believed
that longing born from odor of a tree,
odor of water, could reduce souls so?
(Canto XXIII, 31-36)
And he to me: “From the eternal counsel,
the water and the tree you left behind
receive the power that makes me waste away.
All of these souls who, grieving, sing because
their appetite was gluttonous, in thirst
and hunger here resanctify themselves.
The fragrance of the fruit and of the water
that’s sprayed through that green tree kindles in us
craving for food and drink; and not once only,
(Canto XXIII, 61-69)
away our faces.” And he pointed: “This
is Bonagiunta, Bonagiunta da
Lucca; the one beyond him, even more
emaciated than the rest, had clasped
the Holy Church; he was from Tours; his fast
purges Bolsena’s eels, Vernaccia’s wine.”
And he named many others, one by one,
and, at their naming, they all seemed content;
so that—for this—no face was overcast.
(Canto XXIV, 19-27)
“Do not be vexed,” he said, “for I can see
the guiltiest of all dragged by a beast’s
tail to the valley where no sin is purged.
At every step the beast moves faster, always
gaining momentum, till it smashes him
and leaves his body squalidly undone.
Those wheels,” and here he looked up at the sky,
“do not have long to turn before you see
plainly what I can’t tell more openly.
(Canto XXIV, 82-90)
Among the boughs, a voice—I know not whose—
spoke so; thus, drawing closer, Virgil, Statius,
and I edged on, along the side that rises.
(Canto XXIV, 118-120)
Then they returned to singing; and they praised
aloud those wives and husbands who were chaste,
as virtue and as matrimony mandate.
This is—I think—the way these spirits act
as long as they are burned by fire: this is
the care and this the nourishment with which
one has to heal the final wound of all.
(Canto XXV, 133-139)
Look at the sun that shines upon your brow;
look at the grasses, flowers, and the shrubs
born here, spontaneously, of the earth.
Among them, you can rest or walk until
the coming of the glad and lovely eyes—
those eyes that, weeping, sent me to your side.
Await no further word or sign from me:
your will is free, erect, and whole—to act
against that will would be to err: therefore
I crown and miter you over yourself.”
(Canto XXVII, 133-142)
and there I came upon a stream that blocked
the path of my advance; its little waves
bent to the left the grass along its banks.
All of the purest waters here on earth,
when matched against that stream, would seem to be
touched by impurity; it hides no thing—
(Canto XXVIII, 25-30)
and there, just like a thing that, in appearing
most suddenly, repels all other thoughts,
so great is the astonishment it brings,
I saw a solitary woman moving,
singing, and gathering up flower on flower—
the flowers that colored all of her pathway.
(Canto XXVIII, 37-42)
The water that you see does not spring from
a vein that vapor—cold—condensed—restores,
like rivers that acquire or lose their force;
it issues from a pure and changeless fountain,
which by the will of God regains as much
as, on two sides, it pours and it divides.
On this side it descends with power to end
one’s memory of sin; and on the other,
it can restore recall of each good deed.
To one side, it is Lethe; on the other,
Eunoe; neither stream is efficacious
unless the other’s waters have been tasted:
(Canto XXVIII, 121- 132)
spoke so; thus, drawing closer, Virgil, Statius,
and I edged on, along the side that rises.
(Canto XXIV, 118-120)
Then they returned to singing; and they praised
aloud those wives and husbands who were chaste,
as virtue and as matrimony mandate.
This is—I think—the way these spirits act
as long as they are burned by fire: this is
the care and this the nourishment with which
one has to heal the final wound of all.
(Canto XXV, 133-139)
Look at the sun that shines upon your brow;
look at the grasses, flowers, and the shrubs
born here, spontaneously, of the earth.
Among them, you can rest or walk until
the coming of the glad and lovely eyes—
those eyes that, weeping, sent me to your side.
Await no further word or sign from me:
your will is free, erect, and whole—to act
against that will would be to err: therefore
I crown and miter you over yourself.”
(Canto XXVII, 133-142)
and there I came upon a stream that blocked
the path of my advance; its little waves
bent to the left the grass along its banks.
All of the purest waters here on earth,
when matched against that stream, would seem to be
touched by impurity; it hides no thing—
(Canto XXVIII, 25-30)
and there, just like a thing that, in appearing
most suddenly, repels all other thoughts,
so great is the astonishment it brings,
I saw a solitary woman moving,
singing, and gathering up flower on flower—
the flowers that colored all of her pathway.
(Canto XXVIII, 37-42)
The water that you see does not spring from
a vein that vapor—cold—condensed—restores,
like rivers that acquire or lose their force;
it issues from a pure and changeless fountain,
which by the will of God regains as much
as, on two sides, it pours and it divides.
On this side it descends with power to end
one’s memory of sin; and on the other,
it can restore recall of each good deed.
To one side, it is Lethe; on the other,
Eunoe; neither stream is efficacious
unless the other’s waters have been tasted:
(Canto XXVIII, 121- 132)
Purgatorio, Canto XXIV-XXV-XXVII-XXVIII
PIM- PKL'2014.3.25.
Purgatorio, Canto XXIX-XXXI
PIM- PKL'2014.3.26.
Not far beyond, we made out seven trees
of gold, though the long stretch of air between
those trees and us had falsified their semblance;
but when I’d drawn so close that things perceived
through mingled senses, which delude, did not,
now they were nearer, lose their real features,
the power that offers reason matter judged
those trees to be—what they were—candelabra,
and what those voices sang to be “Hosanna.”
(Canto XXIX, 43-51)
Beneath the handsome sky I have described,
twenty—four elders moved on, two by two,
and they had wreaths of lilies on their heads.
And all were singing: “You, among the daughters
of Adam, benedicta are; and may
your beauties blessed be eternally.”
After the flowers and the other fresh
plants facing me, along the farther shore,
had seen those chosen people disappear,
then—as in heaven, star will follow star—
the elders gone, four animals came on;
and each of them had green leaves as his crown;
(Canto XXIX, 82-93)
The space between the four of them contained
a chariot—triumphal—on two wheels,
tied to a griffin’s neck and drawn by him.
His wings, stretched upward, framed the middle band
with three bands on each outer side, so that,
though he cleaved air, he left the bands intact.
(Canto XXIX, 106-111)
Three circling women, then advancing, danced:
at the right wheel; the first of them, so red
that even in a flame she’d not be noted;
the second seemed as if her flesh and bone
were fashioned out of emerald; the third
seemed to be newly fallen snow. And now
(Canto XXIX, 121-126)
Behind all of the group I have described
I saw two elders, different in their dress
but like in manner—grave and decorous.
(Canto XXIX, 133-135)
Then I saw four of humble aspect; and,
when all the rest had passed, a lone old man,
his features keen, advanced, as if in sleep.
(Canto XXIX, 142-144)
Beneath her veil, beyond the stream, she seemed
so to surpass her former self in beauty
as, here on earth, she had surpassed all others.
The nettle of remorse so stung me then,
that those—among all other—things that once
most lured my love, became most hateful to me.
Such self-indictment seized my heart that I
collapsed, my senses slack; what I became
is known to her who was the cause of it.
Then, when my heart restored my outer sense,
I saw the woman whom I’d found alone,
standing above me, saying: “Hold, hold me!”
(Canto XXXI, 82-93)
The lovely woman opened wide her arms;
she clasped my head, and then she thrust me under
to that point where I had to swallow water.
That done, she drew me out and led me, bathed,
into the dance of the four lovely women;
and each one placed her arm above my head.
(Canto XXXI,100-105)
of gold, though the long stretch of air between
those trees and us had falsified their semblance;
but when I’d drawn so close that things perceived
through mingled senses, which delude, did not,
now they were nearer, lose their real features,
the power that offers reason matter judged
those trees to be—what they were—candelabra,
and what those voices sang to be “Hosanna.”
(Canto XXIX, 43-51)
Beneath the handsome sky I have described,
twenty—four elders moved on, two by two,
and they had wreaths of lilies on their heads.
And all were singing: “You, among the daughters
of Adam, benedicta are; and may
your beauties blessed be eternally.”
After the flowers and the other fresh
plants facing me, along the farther shore,
had seen those chosen people disappear,
then—as in heaven, star will follow star—
the elders gone, four animals came on;
and each of them had green leaves as his crown;
(Canto XXIX, 82-93)
The space between the four of them contained
a chariot—triumphal—on two wheels,
tied to a griffin’s neck and drawn by him.
His wings, stretched upward, framed the middle band
with three bands on each outer side, so that,
though he cleaved air, he left the bands intact.
(Canto XXIX, 106-111)
Three circling women, then advancing, danced:
at the right wheel; the first of them, so red
that even in a flame she’d not be noted;
the second seemed as if her flesh and bone
were fashioned out of emerald; the third
seemed to be newly fallen snow. And now
(Canto XXIX, 121-126)
Behind all of the group I have described
I saw two elders, different in their dress
but like in manner—grave and decorous.
(Canto XXIX, 133-135)
Then I saw four of humble aspect; and,
when all the rest had passed, a lone old man,
his features keen, advanced, as if in sleep.
(Canto XXIX, 142-144)
Beneath her veil, beyond the stream, she seemed
so to surpass her former self in beauty
as, here on earth, she had surpassed all others.
The nettle of remorse so stung me then,
that those—among all other—things that once
most lured my love, became most hateful to me.
Such self-indictment seized my heart that I
collapsed, my senses slack; what I became
is known to her who was the cause of it.
Then, when my heart restored my outer sense,
I saw the woman whom I’d found alone,
standing above me, saying: “Hold, hold me!”
(Canto XXXI, 82-93)
The lovely woman opened wide her arms;
she clasped my head, and then she thrust me under
to that point where I had to swallow water.
That done, she drew me out and led me, bathed,
into the dance of the four lovely women;
and each one placed her arm above my head.
(Canto XXXI,100-105)
Never has lightning fallen with such swift
motion from a thick cloud, when it descends
from the most distant limit in the heavens,
as did the bird of Jove that I saw swoop
down through the tree, tearing the bark as well
as the new leaves and the new flowering.
(Canto XXXII, 109-114)
Just like a fortress set on a steep slope,
securely seated there, ungirt, a whore,
whose eyes were quick to rove, appeared to me;
and I saw at her side, erect, a giant,
who seemed to serve as her custodian;
and they—again, again—embraced each other.
But when she turned her wandering, wanton eyes
to me, then that ferocious amador
beat her from head to foot; then, swollen with
(Canto XXXII, 148-156)
And Beatrice :”Perhaps some greater care,
which often weakens memory, has made
his mind, in things regarding sight, grow dark.
But see Eunoe as it flows from there:
lead him to it and, as you’re used to doing,
revive the power that is faint in him.”
As would the noble soul, which offers no
excuse, but makes another’s will its own
as soon as signs reveal that will; just so,
when she had taken me, the lovely lady
moved forward; and she said with womanly
courtesy to Statius: “Come with him.”
(Canto XXXIII, 124-135)
From that most holy wave I now returned
to Beatrice; remade, as new trees are
renewed when they bring forth new boughs, I was
pure and prepared to climb unto the stars.
(Canto XXXIII, 142-145)
motion from a thick cloud, when it descends
from the most distant limit in the heavens,
as did the bird of Jove that I saw swoop
down through the tree, tearing the bark as well
as the new leaves and the new flowering.
(Canto XXXII, 109-114)
Just like a fortress set on a steep slope,
securely seated there, ungirt, a whore,
whose eyes were quick to rove, appeared to me;
and I saw at her side, erect, a giant,
who seemed to serve as her custodian;
and they—again, again—embraced each other.
But when she turned her wandering, wanton eyes
to me, then that ferocious amador
beat her from head to foot; then, swollen with
(Canto XXXII, 148-156)
And Beatrice :”Perhaps some greater care,
which often weakens memory, has made
his mind, in things regarding sight, grow dark.
But see Eunoe as it flows from there:
lead him to it and, as you’re used to doing,
revive the power that is faint in him.”
As would the noble soul, which offers no
excuse, but makes another’s will its own
as soon as signs reveal that will; just so,
when she had taken me, the lovely lady
moved forward; and she said with womanly
courtesy to Statius: “Come with him.”
(Canto XXXIII, 124-135)
From that most holy wave I now returned
to Beatrice; remade, as new trees are
renewed when they bring forth new boughs, I was
pure and prepared to climb unto the stars.
(Canto XXXIII, 142-145)
Purgatorio, Canto XXXII-XXXIII
PIM- PKL'2014.3.27.
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