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 V

• Already had I parted from those shades,
• and in my Leader’s steps was following on,
• when one behind me, pointing with his finger,
• cried out: “See how the light seems not to shine
• upon the left side of that lower man,
• who seems to act like one that’s still alive!”

• Hearing this speech, I turned mine eyes, and saw
• that with astonishment they gazed at me,
• at me alone, and at the broken light.

• “Why is thy mind so sore perplexed,” then said
• my Teacher, “that thou slackenest thy pace?
• What carest thou for what is whispered here?
• Follow thou me, and let the people talk!
• Firm as a tower remain, which never shakes
• its top, however hard the winds may blow!
• For from himself he ever turns his mark,
• in whom one thought wells up behind another,
• for each of them impairs the other’s strength.”

• What could I say in answer, save “I come”?
• And this I said, tinged slightly with the color
• which sometimes makes one worthy of forgiveness.

• Meanwhile a little way ahead of us
• some people crosswise o’er the slope were coming,
• singing the Miserere verse by verse.
• When they became aware that through my body
• I gave no passage to the rays of light,
• they changed their chant into a long, hoarse “Oh!”
• and two of them, acting as messengers,
• ran out to meet us, and enquiring said:
• “Cause us to know what kind of life is yours.”

• My Teacher answered: “Ye may go your way,
• and unto those that sent you out report
• that real flesh this man’s body is. And if,
• as I suppose, they stopped because they saw
• his shadow, they ’ve been answered well enough;
• if they respect him, it may profit them.”

• I never saw ignited vapors cleave
• at nightfall an unclouded sky, or break
• so rapidly from August clouds at sunset,
• that these returned not up in shorter time;
• and, once there, with the rest they veered toward us,
• as would a troop that ran without a curb.

• “These people who are crowding us are many,”
• the Poet said, “and come to beg of thee;
• therefore go on, and listen on thy way.”

• “O soul, that goest to be glad” they cried,
• as on they came, “with those limbs which thou hadst
• when thou wast born, a little stay thy steps!

• Recall if thou hast e’er seen one of us,
• that yonder thou mayst carry news of him!
• Why, pray, dost thou go on? Ah, why not stop?
• We all were slain of old by violence,
• and sinners were until our latest hour;
• then light from Heaven so caused us to beware,
• that we, repentant and forgiving, issued
• from life at peace with God, who in our hearts
• stirs us with grievous longings to behold Him.”

• And I: “Howe’er I gaze upon your faces,
• none do I recognize; and yet, if aught
• within my power can please you, well-born souls,
• ask it, and I will do it, by the peace,
• which, following the feet of such a Guide,
• hath now become my quest from world to world.”

• And one began: “Each trusts in thy good help
• without an oath, provided lack of power
• cut not thy good will short. Hence I, who speak
• alone before the others, beg of thee,
• if e’er thou see the country which extends
• between Romagna and the land of Charles,
• be courteous to me with thy prayers in Fano,
• that supplications due be made for me,
• to help me purge away my grievous sins.
• It was from there I came; but those deep wounds,
• whence flowed the blood wherein my life resided,
• were giv’n me in the Antenori’s lap,

• where I had trusted I should be most safe.
• The lord of Esti, who was angry with me
• beyond the bounds of justice, had it done.
• Yet toward La Mira had I only fled,
• when at Oriàgo I was overtaken,
• still yonder would I be, where people breathe.
• Toward the lagoon I ran, whose reeds and mire
• so hampered me, I fell; and there a pool
• formed from my veins I saw upon the ground.”

• Then said another: “So may that desire,
• which draws thee to the lofty Mount be granted,
• with kindly pity, prithee, help thou mine!
• I Montefeltro was, I am Buonconte;
• Giovanna cares not for me, nor do others;
• hence among these I go with head bowed down.

• And I to him: “What force was it, or chance,
• caused thee to stray so far from Campaldino,
• that never hath thy burial-place been known?”

• “Oh!” he replied, “A river called Archiàno
• flows crosswise at the Casentino’s foot,
• and takes its rise among the Apennines,
• above the Hermitage. There, where its name
• is lost, I came, a fugitive on foot,
• pierced through the throat, and staining with my blood
• the plain. And there it was I lost my sight,
• and ended speech with Mary’s name; and there
• I fell, and all alone my flesh remained.

• The truth I tell, tell thou among the living.
• God’s Angel took me, while the one from Hell
• cried out: ‘Why dost thou rob me, thou from Heaven?
• Thou bearest hence this man’s eternal part,
• because of one small tear which takes him from me;
• but I shall with the rest deal otherwise!’
• Well knowst thou how damp vapors in the air,
• as soon as they ascend to where the cold
• affects them, into water change again.
• He joined that wicked will, which asks for naught
• but evil, with intelligence, and stirred
• the mists and wind, by power his nature gave.
• The valley thereupon, when day was spent,
• he covered o’er with fog from Pratomagno
• up to the mountain-chain, and made the sky
• so lowering o’er it, that the pregnant air
• to water turned; the rain poured down, and what
• the soil absorbed not, reached the rivulets;
• then, having joined the torrent-brooks, it rushed
• so swiftly toward the royal stream, that naught
• could hold it back. The swift Archiàno then
• hard by its outlet found my frozen body;
• and, as it swept it on into the Arno,
• loosened the cross which with my arms I made
• upon my breast, when sorrow’s pain o’erwhelmed me;
• along its banks and bed it rolled me on;
• then covered me, and wrapped me with its spoils.”

• “Prithee, when to the world thou hast returned,
• and when from thy long journey thou art rested,”
• after the second spirit said the third,
• “do thou remember me, who Pia am!
• Sièna made me; Maremma me unmade;
• he knoweth what this means, who previously
• had, in betrothal, ringed me with his gem.”