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 XX

• A will fights weakly ’gainst a stronger will;
• hence I, myself displeasing, him to please,
• out of the water drew my sponge unfilled.

• I started; and along the space left clear
• close to the rocky cliff my Leader moved,
• as ’neath its battlements one hugs a wall;
• for those who through their eyes pour drop by drop
• the evil which pervadeth all the world,
• approach too closely to the outer edge.

• Be thou accurst, thou ancient Wolf, that prey
• far greater hast than have all other beasts,
• by reason of thy hunger’s endless depth!
• O Heaven, through whose revolving, some, it seems,
• believe that here below conditions change,
• when will he come, through whom this beast shall leave?

• As on we went with slow and scanted steps,
• and I was listening to the shades I heard
• weeping and uttering piteous lamentations;
• by chance I heard in front of us a voice
• cry out ‘Sweet Mary!’ in the tearful tones
• wherewith a woman cries in childbirth’s pangs;

• and this was followed by: “As poor thou wast,
• as by the hostelry may be perceived,
• where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down.”

• Next after this I heard: “O good Fabricius,
• with virtue thou didst poverty prefer
• to great possessions with iniquity.”

• So pleasing had these last words been to me,
• that further on I moved, that I might know
• the spirit from whose lips they seemed to come.
• He now was speaking of the generous gift
• bestowed by Nicholas upon the maids,
• to guide their youth into an honored path.

• “O soul, that speakest of such worthy deeds,
• say who thou wast,” said I, “and why alone
• thou thus renewest this deservèd praise.
• Thy words will not remain without reward,
• if I return to end that life’s short course,
• which flieth onward toward its final term.”

• And he: “I ’ll tell it thee, though not for help
• that I may look for yonder, but because
• Grace shines so brightly in thee, ere thy death.
• I was the root of that malignant plant,
• whose shadow darkens all the Christian land,
• so that good fruit is seldom picked from it.
• But if Douai, Lille, Ghent, and Bruges could,
• vengeance would soon be wrought for this; and I
• of Him request it, who is Judge of all.

• Yonder my name was Hugh Capet; from me
• have sprung the Philips and the Louises,
• who have in recent ages governed France.
• A Paris butcher’s son I was; when all
• the ancient kings had passed away, save one,
• a gray-robed monk, tight in my hands I found
• the bridle of the kingdom’s government,
• with so much power of recent gain, and such
• a host of friends, that to the widowed crown
• was raised the head of mine own son, with whom
• the line of their anointed bones began.
• As long as its great dowry of Provence
• had not deprived my family of shame,
• its worth was small, but still it did no harm.
• With that began its thefts by force and fraud;
• for afterward, to make amends, Ponthieu
• it seized, with Normandy and Gascony.
• Charles came to Italy; and there, to make
• amends, a victim made of Conradin; and then,
• to make amends, drove Thomas back to Heaven.
• A time I see, not very long from now,
• which out of France will bring another Charles,
• to make both him and his the better known.
• He issues thence alone and with no host,
• but with the jousting lance of Judas; this
• he thrusts so, that he bursts the paunch of Florence.
•         

• As a result not land, but sin and shame
• he ’ll win, of so much greater weight for him,
• the lighter he accounts such loss. I see
• the other Charles, once captured from his ship,
• his daughter sell, and haggle for the price,
• as corsairs do with slave-girls not their own.
• What more, O Avarice, canst thou do with us,
• since thou hast to thyself so drawn my race,
• that ev’n for its own flesh it careth not?
• That future ills and past ones may seem less,
• I see Alagna by the Lily entered,
• and, in his Vicar, Christ a prisoner made.
• I see the latter mocked a second time;
• I see the vinegar and gall renewed,
• and Him I see ’mong living robbers killed.
• And this new Pilate I behold so ruthless,
• that, not content with this, he lawlessly
• into the Temple bears his greedy sails.
• Oh, when, my Lord, shall I rejoice to see
• the vengeance, in Thy secret counsel hid,
• which now avails to make Thine anger sweet?
• What of the Holy Spirit’s only Bride
• I said just now, and thereby made thee turn
• to me for explanation, serves as answer
• to all our prayers, as long as daylight lasts;
• but soon as night returns, instead of these,
• we utter words which sound the opposite.

• We thereupon rehearse Pygmalion’s story,
• and how of him his greedy lust for gold
• a traitor made, a thief, and parricide;
• and avaricious Midas’ misery,
• which followed from his covetous request,
• and at which one will always have to laugh.
• Next, foolish Achan every one recalls,
• who stole the plunder, so that even here
• the wrath of Joshua seems to bite him still.
• We then accuse Sapphira with her husband;
• we praise the kicks which Heliodorus got;
• while Polymnestor circles all the Mount
• in infamy, who Polydorus killed;
• and finally, our cry is: ‘Tell us, Crassus,
• for thou dost know it, what ’s the taste of gold?’
• Aloud at times speaks one, another low,
• as each one’s feelings spur him on to speak,
• in stronger now, and now in weaker tones;
• hence I, in speaking of the good, which here
• is talked about by day, was not alone;
• but near us here none other spoke aloud.”

• Already had we gone away from him,
• striving to make our way along the path
• as fast as was allowed our powers; when I,
• like something falling, felt the Mountain quake;
• then such a chill took hold of me, as he
• is wont to have who goeth to his death.

• Delos, indeed, shook not so terribly,
• before Latona made therein her nest,
• in order to give birth to heaven’s two eyes.

• Then such a cry arose on every side,
• that close to me my Teacher drew, and said:
• “Be not afraid, while I am guiding thee!”
• “Glory to God” they all said, “in the highest,”
• as far as I could understand from those near by,
• where what was being shouted could be heard.
• Both motionless and in suspense we stood,
• as stood the shepherds who first heard that song,
• till, when the trembling stopped, the shouting ceased.

• Thereafter we resumed our holy journey,
• watching the shades that lay upon the ground,
• returned already to their wonted plaint.
• No ignorance had ever with as great
• anxiety made me desire to know,
• unless in this my memory go astray,
• as that which, as I thought, I seemed to have;
• I neither dared to ask, because of haste,
• nor could I see there anything myself;
• so on I went, timid and lost in thought.