The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• The Peace of God
• Preface
• Purgatorio I
• Purgatorio Ii
• Purgatorio Iii
• Purgatorio Iv
• Purgatorio V
• Purgatorio Vi
• Purgatorio Vii
• Purgatorio Viii
• Purgatorio Ix
• Purgatorio X
• Purgatorio Xi
• Purgatorio Xii
• Purgatorio Xiii
• Purgatorio Xiv
• Purgatorio Xv
• Purgatorio Xvi
• Purgatorio Xvii
• Purgatorio Xviii
• Purgatorio Xix
• Purgatorio Xx
• Purgatorio Xxi
• Purgatorio Xxii
• Purgatorio Xxiii
• Purgatorio Xxiv
• Purgatorio Xxv
• Purgatorio Xxvi
• Purgatorio Xxvii
• Purgatorio Xxviii
• Purgatory Xxix
• Purgatorio Xxx
• Purgatorio Xxxi
• Purgatorio Xxxii
• Purgatorio Xxxiii

PURGATORIO I

• To run o’er better water hoists her sails
• the little vessel of my genius now,
• which leaves behind her such a cruel sea;
• and of that second Realm I ’ll sing, wherein
• the human spirit purifies itself,
• and groweth worthy to ascend to Heaven.

• But here let Poetry arise from death,
• since, holy Muses, yours I am; and let
• Calliopë, here somewhat higher soaring,
• with those sweet tones accompany my song,
• whose power the miserable Magpies felt
• so keenly, that of pardon they despaired.

• The oriental sapphire’s tender hue,
• now gathering in the sky’s unclouded face,
• as far as to the first of circles pure,
• began again to give mine eyes delight,
• when forth I issued from the deadly air,
• which with its gloom had filled mine eyes and heart.
• The beauteous planet which incites to love,
• veiling with light the Fishes in her train,
• was causing all the eastern sky to laugh.

• Round to the right I turned, and set my mind
• upon the other pole, and saw four stars,
• never perceived, save by the first of men.
• The sky appeared to enjoy their little flames.
• O region of the North, that widowed art,
• because deprived of gazing thereupon!

• When I had from the sight of them withdrawn,
• turning a little toward the other pole,
• whence now the Wain had wholly disappeared,
• a lone Old Man beside me I perceived,
• deserving of such reverence in his looks,
• that no son owes his father any more.
• Long was the beard he wore, and partly white,
• as likewise was the hair upon his head,
• two locks of which hung down upon his breast.
• And so the rays of those four holy stars
• adorned his face with splendor, that to me course
• he looked as if the sun were facing him.

• “Who, then, are ye, that ’gainst the blind stream’s
• have from the eternal Prison escaped?” he said,
• moving the while those venerable locks.
• “Who led you, or what served you as a lamp,
• when forth ye issued from the night profound,
• which makes the infernal Vale forever black?
• Are broken thus the laws of Hell’s abyss,
• or through new counsel is there change in Heaven,
• that ye, though damned, are come to these my cliffs?”

• My Leader thereupon took hold of me,
• and with his words and with his hands and signs
• imposed respect upon my legs and brow.

• He then replied: “I came not of myself;
• from Heaven came down a Lady, at whose prayer
• I helped this man with my companionship.
• But since thy will it is that our true state
• should be explained to thee more clearly, mine
• it cannot be that this should be denied thee.
• Not yet hath this man his last evening seen;
• but through his folly was so near to it,
• that he was left but very little time.
• As I have told thee, I was sent to save
• his life; nor was there any other way
• than this, to which I have addressed myself.
• I ’ve shown him all the people who are guilty;
• and now I mean those spirits to reveal,
• who ’neath thy jurisdiction cleanse themselves.
• Long would it take to tell thee how I led him;
• virtue descendeth from on high, which helps me
• lead him to see thee and to hear thee speak.
• His coming, therefore, please to welcome; Freedom
• he seeks, which is so dear, as knoweth he
• who gives up life therefor. This thou dost know,
• since death for its sake was not bitter to thee
• in Utica, where thou didst leave the robe,
• which on the Great Day will so brightly shine.

• The eternal edicts are not void through us;
• for this man lives, and I ’m not bound by Minos;
• but of that circle am, wherein the eyes
• of thy chaste Marcia are, O holy breast,
• whose looks implore thee still to hold her thine;
• for love of her, then, yield thee unto us!
• Permit us through thy seven domains to go.
• My grateful praise of thee I ’ll bear to her,
• if to be mentioned there below thou deign.”

• “Marcia so pleased mine eyes,” he then replied,
• “that, while upon the other side I was,
• I granted all the favors she desired.
• Now that she dwells beyond the evil stream,
• no longer can she move me, by the law
• made at the moment when I issued thence.
• But if a Lady of Heaven impel and guide thee,
• as thou hast said, no need of flattering prayers;
• suffice it thee that for her sake thou ask.
• Go, then, and see that with a leafless rush
• thou gird this man, and that thou wash his face,
• so that therefrom all foulness thou remove;
• for ’t were not fit he went, with eyes o’ercast
• by any mist, before the first of those
• who serve as Ministers of Paradise.
• This little isle around its lowest base,
• down yonder where the waves are beating it,
• produces rushes on its yielding ooze.

• No other plant, like one that brought forth leaves,
• or hardened, can maintain its life down there,
• because it yields not when receiving blows.
• Thereafter be not hither your return;
• the sun, which rises now, will show you how
• to climb the Mountain by the easiest slope.”

• Thereat he disappeared; and I arose
• without a word, and to my Leader’s side
• I closely drew, and toward him turned mine eyes.
• And he began: “Son, follow thou my steps;
• let us turn backward, for the shore slopes down
• on this side toward its lowly boundaries.”

• The dawn was vanquishing the morning breeze,
• which fled before it, so that, from afar,
• I recognized the shimmering of the sea.

• We now were going o’er the lonely plain,
• as one who to a road he lost returns,
• and, till he find it, seems to go in vain.
• When we were there, where with the sun the dew
• still struggles on, through being in a place
• where, for the breeze, it slowly melts away,
• my Teacher, having spread out both his hands,
• rested them gently on the tender grass;
• whence I, who of his purpose was aware,
• yielded to him the cheeks my tears had stained;
• he then brought all that natural color back,
• which Hell had on my countenance concealed.

• We came thereafter to that lonely shore,
• which never saw its waters sailed by one
• who afterward experienced a return.
• Here, as the other pleased, he girded me.
• O wondrous sight! For, like the humble plant
• which he had chosen, another instantly
• sprang forth again from where he tore the first.