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 XXIV

• Speaking slowed not our gait, nor did our gait
• our speaking; but, still talking, we went on
• apace, as, by a fair wind driv’n, a ship.
• The shades, meanwhile, who looked like things twice dead,
• drew wonder through their hollowed eyes at me,
• when they perceived that I was still alive.

• And I, continuing my talking, said:
• “He, for another’s sake, is going up
• more slowly than, perhaps, he else would do.
• But, if thou know, say where Piccarda is;
• and whether I see any here worth noting
• among these people who so gaze at me.”

• “My sister who, ’tween fair and good, was most
• I know not which, on high Olympus triumphs,
• happy already in the crown she wears.”

• This he said first, and then: “We ’re not forbid
• to name each here, since by our abstinence,
• our aspects are so greatly milked away.
• This Bonagiunta is,” his finger showed him,
• “the Lucca Bonagiunta; while the face
• beyond him, more embroidered than the rest,

• had in his arms the Holy Church; of Tours
• he was, and now, by fasting, expiates
• Bolsena’s eels and rare vernaccia wine.”

• And many more he named me, one by one;
• and all, when named, seemed satisfied, hence I,
• because of this, saw not a gloomy act.

• Using their teeth through hunger, though in vain,
• I saw both Ubaldino della Pila,
• and Boniface, who pastured with his crook
• much folk. I Ser Marchese saw, who once
• had time to drink less dryly at Forlì,
• yet such he was, that he did not feel sated.

• But, as one looks, and more of one man thinks
• than of another, so did I at him
• of Lucca, who, it seemed, most wished to know me.
• He murmured, and I heard I know not what
• about ‘Gentucca,’ uttered where he felt
• the wound of Justice which consumes them so.

• “O soul, that seemst so fain to speak to me,”
• said I, “so do that I may understand,
• and with thy words appease thyself and me.”

• “There is a woman born,” he then began,
• “nor weareth yet the veil, who, howsoe’er
• it be reproached, shall cause my town to please thee.
• With this prevision shalt thou now go on;
• and if by what I murmured thou wast led
• astray, events shall make it clear to thee.

• But tell me whether him I here behold,
• who those new rhymes produced, which thus begin:
• ‘Ye ladies, who well know what loving is.’”

• And him I answered: “I am one, who heed
• when Love within me breathes, and outwardly
• express myself as in me Love dictates.”

• “O brother, now I see” said he, “the bar,
• which kept this side the sweet new style I hear,
• the Notary, Guittone, and myself.
• I clearly see that your pens closely follow
• in the dictator’s wake, which certainly
• was not the case with ours; and he who further
• sets himself most to look, between these styles
• perceives no other difference.” Whereupon,
• as if content with this, he ceased to speak.

• As birds that spend the winter ’long the Nile,
• form in the air at times a flock, and then
• with greater speed fly on, and in a line
• advance; so likewise all the people there,
• quickened their steps with faces turned around,
• since through their leanness light, and through their will.

• And as a man who weary is of running,
• lets his companions go, and only walks,
• until the panting of his chest has ceased;
• ev’n so Forese let the holy flock
• pass on, and saying: “When shall I again
• behold thee?” came along behind with me.

• “I know not,” I replied, “how long I ’ll live;
• but I shall not so soon return, that sooner
• I shall not with my will be on the shore;
• because the place where I was set to live,
• strips itself further day by day of goodness,
• and now to dismal ruin seems ordained.”

• “Now go,” said he, “for him I see, who most
• hath blame for this, behind a beast’s tail dragged
• down to the Vale, where none e’er frees himself
• from fault. The beast with every step goes faster,
• and ever faster, till it hurls him down,
• and leaves his body in disgraceful plight.
• Those spheres have not much further to revolve,”
• (he raised his eyes toward heaven) “ere clear to thee
• will that become, which my words can explain
• no more. Stay now behind; for in this Realm
• so precious is our time, that, coming thus
• at even pace with thee, I lose too much.”

• As at a gallop from a riding troop
• a horseman issues forth at times, and goes
• to win the honor of the first encounter;
• so he with longer strides departed from us;
• and on the road with those two I remained,
• who of the world such mighty marshals were.

• When he had gone so far ahead, that now
• mine eyes became such followers of his form,
• as of his words my mind, the heavy laden

• and living branches of another Tree
• appeared before me not so far away,
• since toward it I had only then turned round.
• Beneath it folk I saw with upraised hands,
• who toward the foliage cried I know not what,
• like eager children who in vain beseech,
• while he, to whom they pray, replieth not,
• but with a view to make their longing keen,
• holds what they long for up, and hides it not.
• They then departed, as if undeceived;
• and thereupon to that great Tree we came,
• which turns away so many prayers and tears.

• “Pass on without approaching! Higher up
• a Tree there is, which bitten was by Eve,
• and this one is an offshoot sprung from that.”
• Thus said I know not who among the branches;
• hence Virgil, I, and Statius, close together,
• advanced along the side which rises up.
• “Recall” he said, “those cursèd cloud-born creatures,
• who, gorged with food and drink, ’gainst Theseus strove
• with double breasts; the Hebrews, too, recall,
• who at their drinking showed that they were soft,
• whence as his fellows Gideon had them not,
• when he on Midian down the hills advanced.”

• Thus, hugging close one margin of the ring,
• we passed, and heard of gluttonies,
• which once were followed by distressful gains.

• Then, spreading out across the lonely path,
• more than a thousand steps had borne us on,
• in contemplation each without a word.

• “What think ye three, as thus alone ye go?”
• a voice cried suddenly; whereat I started,
• as scared and sluggish beasts are wont to do.
• I raised my head to see who this might be;
• and ne’er were metals in a furnace seen,
• or glass, as red and bright, as one I saw
• who said: “If ye are pleased to mount above,
• ye must in this direction turn aside;
• this way goes he, who goes in quest of peace.”

• His aspect had bereft me of my sight;
• I therefore turned and stepped behind my Teachers
• like one who guides his feet by what he hears.

• And as, when heralding the light of dawn,
• the breeze of May sheds fragrance as it stirs,
• all redolent of grasses and of flowers;
• so, ’gainst my brow I felt a zephyr’s stroke,
• and well perceived the motion of the wing
• which made me scent ambrosian odors there.

• “Blessèd are they, whom so much Grace illumes,”
• I heard one saying, “that the love of taste
• stirs not too great a longing in their breast,
• but always hunger only as is right!”