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 VII

• After their words of greeting, dignified
• and glad, had three and four times been repeated,
• Sordello, drawing back, said: “Who are ye?”

• “Or ever yet the spirits, who deserved
• to rise to God, were toward this Mount directed,
• my bones were buried by Octavian’s order.
• Virgil am I; and through no other guilt
• did I lose Heaven, than through not having faith.”
• ’T was thus my Leader thereupon replied.

• Like one who sudden sees before him aught
• he wonders at, and, as he says: “It is . . .”
• and “No, it ’s not,” believes and disbelieves;
• such did the former seem; and then his head
• he bowed, and, humbly turning back to him,
• embraced him where inferior men take hold.

• “O glory of the Latins,” said he then,
• “through whom our language showed what it could do,
• eternal honor of my native town,
• what merit, or what grace shows thee to me?
• Tell me, if I deserve to hear thy words,
• if thou from Hell art come, and from what cloister.”

• “Through all the circles of the woeful Realm”
• he answered him, “have I come hither; virtue
• from Heaven impelled me, and therewith I come.
• ’T was not for doing aught, but for not doing,
• I lost the sight of that exalted Sun
• thou longest for, and which was known by me
• too late. There is a place below, not sad
• because of pain, but only gloom, where moans
• sound not as wailings, but are merely sighs.
• There with those little innocents I dwell,
• who, not delivered yet from human guilt,
• were bitten by the teeth of death; and there
• with those I dwell, who did not clothe themselves
• with the three holy virtues, but who knew
• the others without vice, and practiced all.
• But give us, if thou know and can, some sign,
• whereby the sooner we may reach the place,
• where Purgatory hath its real beginning.”

• “No fixed place is assigned us;” he replied,
• “I may go upward and around; I ’ll join thee,
• and be thy guide as far as I can go.
• But see already how the day declines,
• and one at night can not ascend; it, hence,
• were well to think of some fair resting place.
• Here to the right are souls that dwell apart;
• if thou permit me, I will lead thee to them,
• and not without delight will they be known.”

• “How, then, is this?” was answered, “Should one wish
• to mount by night, would some one hinder him?
• Or would one not ascend, through lack of power?

• Then with his finger good Sordello marked
• the ground, and: “See!” he said, “When once the sun
• is gone, thou couldst not even cross this line;
• though not because aught else than gloom of night
• would hinder one from climbing; that it is
• puzzles the will with impotence. One could,
• however, downward go again therewith,
• and walking o’er the hillside, wander round
• while still the horizon kept the day confined.”

• My Lord then said, as if in wonder lost:
• “Do thou, then, lead us thither, where thou saidst
• that one while waiting can enjoy himself.”

• But little had we gone away from there,
• when I perceived the hill was hollowed out,
• as here on earth our hillside valleys are.

• “Thither,” that shade said, “we ’ll betake ourselves
• where of itself the hillside forms a lap;
• and there will we await the coming day.”

• A winding path there was, nor steep nor level,
• which led us to a border of the dell,
• where more than half away the hillside falls.
• Gold and fine silver, scarlet and white lead,
• indigo blue, wood’s clear and shining brown,
• and green of emeralds when newly flaked,

• would each in hue be vanquished by the grass
• and flowers found growing in that bosomed dell,
• as by the greater vanquished is the less.
• Nature not only had been painting there;
• but with the fragrance of a thousand scents
• was making up a blend unknown on earth.
• Here, seated on the grass among the flowers,
• “Salve, Regina” singing, souls I saw,
• who, for the dell, could not be seen outside.

• “Before the waning sunlight nest itself,”
• began the Mantuan who had guided us,
• “desire me not to lead you among these.
• Much better from this border shall ye learn
• to know the acts and faces of them all,
• than greeted ’mong them in the dale below.

• The one that sitteth highest up, and seems
• to have neglected what he should have done,
• and with his mouth joins not the others’ songs,
• was Emperor Rudolph, he who might have healed
• the wounds that so have left Italia dead,
• that by another she reviveth late.

• He who appears to cheer him, ruled the land,
• where rise the waters which the Moldau gives
• the Elbe, and the Elbe gives the sea.
• Named Ottocar, he was, in swaddling clothes,
• far better than is Wenceslaus, his son,
• on whom, a bearded man, feed lust and ease.

• That small-nosed man, who close in counsel seems
• with him that hath so kind a countenance,
• died fleeing, and disflowering the Lily.
• Look at him, yonder, how he smites his breast!
• And see the other one, who for his cheek
• hath, sighing, made a cushion of his hand.
• Father and father-in-law of France’s bane,
• they know the latter’s foul and vicious life;
• hence comes the sorrow that so pierces them.

• The one who so large-limbed appears, and joins
• in song with him who hath the manly nose,
• was girded with the cord of every worth;
• and if the youth, who seated is behind him,
• had, following after him, remained as king,
• worth would, indeed, have gone from vase to vase;
• which of the other heirs can not be said.
• The kingdoms James and Frederick hold; but none
• is owner of the better heritage.

• Seldom doth human righteousness ascend
• among the branches; this is willed by Him
• who gives it, that of Him it may be asked.

• My words concern the large-nosed man no less
• than the other, Peter, who is singing with him,
• whence both Apulia and Provence are grieved.
• That plant is as inferior to its seed,
• as of her husband Constance still vaunts more
• than Beatrice and Margaret do of theirs.

• Behold the king, known for his simple life,
• Henry of England, seated there alone;
• he in his branches better issue hath.

• He that among them lower on the ground
• is sitting, and looks up, is Marquis William,
• for whom both Alexandria and her war
• make Montferràt and Canavèsë weep.”