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 III

• Although their sudden flight had scattered them
• over the plain, and turned them toward the Mount,
• where Justice probes us with its penalties,
• more closely to my faithful mate I drew.
• And how without him had I run my race,
• or who had drawn me up the Mountain’s side?

• To me he seemed o’erwhelmed with self-reproach.
• O conscience, when both dignified and clear,
• how sharp a bite a slight fault is to thee!

• When once his feet had given up the haste,
• which of their dignity deprives all acts,
• my mind, to one thought limited at first,
• enlarged its scope with eager interest now;
• and toward that Mountain I addressed my gaze,
• which skyward rises highest from the sea.

• The sun, which back of us was flaming red,
• in front of me was broken in the shape
• wherein I lent its rays a resting place.
• I turned, and at my side I looked, afraid
• of having been abandoned, when I saw
• the ground was dark in front of me alone.

• When wholly turned, my Comforter began:
• “Why still distrustful? Dost thou not believe
• that I am with thee, and am guiding thee?
• ’T is evening now where buried lies the body,
• wherein I cast a shadow; Naples now
• possesses it; from Brindisi ’t was taken.
• If, then, in front of me no shadow fall,
• marvel no more than at the heavenly spheres
• thou wouldst, which hinder not each other’s rays.
• That Power enables bodies such as mine
• to suffer torments, both of heat and cold,
• which wills not that Its ways be shown to us.
• Insane is he that hopes our human reason
• will ever travel o’er the boundless path,
• o’er which One Substance in three Persons moves.
• Be satisfied, O human race, with facts;
• for if ye could have seen the cause of all,
• no need had been for Mary to bear child;
• and ye ’ve seen, vainly longing, men so great,
• that their desire would else have been appeased,
• which giv’n them is for an eternal grief;
• I speak of Aristotle and of Plato,
• and many others.” Here he bowed his head,
• and, saying nothing more, remained disturbed.

• Meanwhile we had attained the Mountain’s foot;
• and there we found the rocky cliff so steep,
• that legs would there be nimble all in vain.

• ’Tween Lèrici and Turbìa the loneliest
• and wildest path is, if compared with that,
• a safely climbed and easy flight of stairs.

• “Now who knows on which side the hill so slopes,”
• then said my Teacher, as he stayed his steps,
• “that he who wingless goes can make the ascent?”

• Meanwhile, as he was questioning his mind
• about the path, and held his face bowed down,
• and I was gazing upward round the cliff,
• upon my left a throng of souls appeared,
• who toward us moved their feet, yet did not seem
• to move, so slowly were they coming on.

• “Teacher,” said I, “lift up thine eyes; behold
• on this side people who will give us counsel,
• if thou canst not obtain it from thyself.”

• He then looked up, and with relief replied:
• “Let us go toward them, for they slowly come,
• and thou, sweet son, be steadfast in thy hope.”

• Those people were as yet as far away,
• after a thousand of our steps, I mean,
• as a good thrower’s hand would reach, when all
• pressed up against the lofty bank’s hard mass,
• and stayed there, still, and huddled up together,
• as, when in doubt, a walker stops to look.

• Virgil began: “O ye whose end was good,
• O now elected spirits, by the peace
• which I believe ye all look forward to,

• say where the Mount so lies, that going up
• be possible for us; for loss of time,
• to him who knoweth most, is most displeasing.”

• As from the fold young sheep are wont to come
• by ones, and twos, and threes, while timidly
• the others stay, with downcast eyes and muzzle;
• and what the first one doth, so do the rest,
• all huddling up to her, in case she stop,
• simple and quiet, nor yet knowing why;
• even so the leader of that favored flock
• I saw start forward then, and toward us come,
• modest in face and dignified in gait.

• When those who were in front the light beheld
• so broken on the ground upon my right,
• that ’gainst the cliff a shadow fell from me,
• they stopped, and backward drew a little way;
• and all the others coming on behind,
• not knowing why they did so, did the same.

• “Without your asking I affirm to you
• that this you see a human body is;
• therefore the sun’s light on the ground is broken.
• Be not surprised, then, but believe that not
• without a power that cometh down from Heaven,
• is he attempting to surmount this wall.”

• My Teacher thus; those worthy people then,
• as with the back part of their hands they waved,
• said: “Turn, then, and ahead of us go in.”

• And one of them began: “Whoe’er thou art,
• as thus thou goest, turn thy face! Recall
• if thou hast ever seen me in the world.”

• Toward him I turned, and on him fixed my gaze.
• Blond, handsome, and of noble mien he was,
• although an eyebrow by a blow was cut.

• When I had with due modesty disclaimed
• having e’er seen him there, he said: “Now see!”
• and showed me high upon his breast a wound.
• Then with a smile he said: “Manfred am I,
• the grandson of the Empress Constance; hence
• I beg thee that, on thy return, thou go
• to my fair daughter, mother of the honor
• of Sicily and Aragon, and should
• aught else be told her, tell her thou the truth.

• After my body by two mortal stabs
• had been pierced through, in tears I gave myself
• to that One who forgiveth willingly.
• My sins were horrible, indeed; and yet
• the Goodness Infinite hath arms so wide,
• that It receiveth all who turn to It.
• And if Cosenza’s Pastor, who by Clement
• was sent to hunt me down, had then perused
• this page in God’s book, as he should have done,
• my body’s bones would still be lying there,
• hard by the bridge’s head near Benevento,
• under the keeping of the heavy cairn.

• Bathed by the rain, the wind now blows them round
• outside the Kingdom, near the Verde’s banks,
• whither he moved them with extinguished lights.

• Not by their cursing is Eternal Love
• so lost, that it can not return again,
• as long as hope hath still a speck of green.

• ’T is true that he that dieth in contempt
• of Holy Church, though at the very last
• he may repent, outside this Mountain’s bank
• must stay, for all the time that he hath been
• in his presumption, thirty times as long,
• unless by good prayers shortened be this ban.

• See now if thou canst make me glad, by telling
• my good Costanza both where thou hast seen me
• and of this interdict; for one is here
• greatly advanced by those that are beyond.”