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 XXVI

• While thus, one ’fore the other, ’long the edge
• we went, and my good Teacher often said:
• “Attention pay; and let my warning help thee!”
• the sun, which with its rays was changing now
• from azure all the western skies to white,
• was on my right side striking me; and I
• was with my shadow giving to the flame
• a brighter red; I noticed many shades
• give heed to this small sign, as on they moved.
• This was what started them to speak of me;
• and they began to say among themselves:
• “That one seems not to have an unreal body.”
• Then some of them, as far as possible
• drew near to me, though always with due care
• not to come out where they would not be burned.

• “O thou that goest on behind the rest,
• though not from sloth, but from respect, perhaps
• reply to me, who burn with thirst and fire!
• Nor is by me alone thine answer needed;
• for all these here have greater thirst therefor
• than Indians or Ethiopians for cold water.

• Inform us how it is that with thyself
• thou makest thus a wall against the sun,
• as if thou hadst not entered death’s snare yet.”

• Thus one of them addressed me; and at once
• had I declared myself, had I not heeded
• another novelty which then appeared;
• for through the middle of the flaming road
• folk with their faces turned the other way
• came on, and made me stop to gaze at them.
• There all the shades on every side I see
• make haste, and, without stopping, kiss each other,
• with this short form of greeting satisfied.

• Thus one ant from among its dark host touches
• its muzzle to another’s, to obtain,
• perhaps, directions as to path or fortune.

• As soon as they leave off their friendly greeting,
• and ere the first step has been taken there,
• each struggles to outcry the other shade;
• the new-come band shouts: “Sodom and Gomorrah!”
• the other: “In the cow Pasìphaë
• reclines, that to her lust the bull may run.”

• Thereat, like cranes, — if some of them should fly
• toward the Riphæan heights, and toward the sands
• the rest, these shunning ice, and those the sun, —
• one band departs, the other comes along;
• and weeping to their previous song they turn,
• and to the cry which best befitteth them.

• Then those same shades who had entreated me,
• drew near to me, as they had done before,
• with eagerness to listen in their looks.

• And I, who twice had seen what they desired,
• began: “O souls, who now are sure of having,
• whenever it may be, a state of peace,
• my body’s members have not stayed beyond,
• either unripe or ripe, but with their blood,
• and with their joints are really with me here.
• I hence go up, to be no longer blind.
• On high a Lady wins us Grace, whereby
• I carry through your world my mortal part.
• But, so may your best wish be soon fulfilled,
• in order that that heaven may shelter you,
• which, full of love, is amplest in its spread,
• tell me, that I may rule more paper for it,
• both who ye are, and what is yonder crowd,
• which onward goes its way behind your backs.”

• A mountaineer becomes not otherwise
• confused, nor, looking round, grows dumb,
• when, rough and wild, he enters first a town,
• than each shade did in its appearance there;
• but, when set free from that astonishment,
• which soon diminishes in high-born hearts,
• the one who questioned me before resumed:
• “Happy art thou, that shippest thus experience
• of these our bounds, that better thou mayst live!

• The people who come not along with us,
• in that offended, for which Caesar once
• when triumphing heard ‘Queen’ cried out against him;
• from us they therefore separate with cries
• of ‘Sodom,’ and by self-reproach assist,
• as thou hast heard, the burning by their shame.
• Our sin was intersexual; but, since we,
• by following our appetites like beasts,
• failed to conform ourselves to human law,
• to our confusion, when we leave the others,
• her name we cry, who bestialized herself
• by lying in the beast-resembling frame.
• Thou knowest now our deeds, and what our guilt;
• if who we are thou ’dst know, perhaps, by name,
• there is no time to tell, nor could I do it.
• As to myself, I ’ll rid thee of thy wish;
• I’m Guido Guinizelli, and purge me now,
• because of grieving well before the end.”

• As in Lycurgus’ anguish those two sons
• became, when they again beheld their mother,
• ev’n such did I, though I went not so far,
• when him I heard self-named, who father was
• to me and others, better men than I,
• who e’er made sweet and graceful rhymes of love;
• hence, lost in thought, nor hearing aught or speaking,
• I moved, and long I gazed at him in wonder,
• but, for the fire, no nearer drew to him.

• When I with looking had been fully fed,
• I put myself entirely at his service
• with those assurances which win belief.

• And he: “Thou leav’st in me a memory,
• from what I hear, so great and plain, that Lethe
• can neither wipe it out nor make it dim.
• But, if thy words swore what was true just now,
• tell me: why hast thou by thy speech and looks
• revealed to me that thou dost hold me dear?”

• And I to him: “’T was those sweet rhymes of yours
• which, while the modern form of speech endures,
• will e’er endear to me their very ink.”

• “Brother,” he said, “he whom I indicate,”
• (he pointed at a spirit on ahead)
• was of his mother tongue a better smith.
• In love-songs and in stories of romance
• he vanquished all; hence let those fools talk on,
• who think the Limousin excelleth him.
• To rumor, rather than to truth, they turn
• their faces, forming their opinions thus,
• ere art or reason have by them been heeded.
• Thus with Guittone many ancients did,
• giving, from cry to cry, to him alone
• the prize, until with most the truth prevailed.
• If now so amply privileged thou art,
• that lawful is thy going to the cloister,
• where Christ is Abbot of the brotherhood,

• a Pater-noster say to Him for me,
• or all of it that we in this world need,
• wherein no longer it is ours to sin.”

• And then, perhaps to yield his place to one
• near by him there, he vanished through the fire,
• as to the bottom would a fish through water.

• Toward him who had been pointed out I moved
• a little way, and said that my desire
• was for his name a gracious place preparing.

• “Your courteous question” he, unurged, began,
• “delighteth me so much, that I can not,
• nor do I wish to, hide myself from you.
• Arnaut am I, who, going, weep and sing;
• with sorrow my past folly I behold,
• and see with joy the hoped-for coming day.
• Now by the Power which guides you to the top
• of this short flight of stairs, I beg of you
• be mindful in due time of this my pain!”

• Then in the fire refining them he hid.