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 XXXI

• “O thou that art across the sacred stream,”
• toward me directing with its point her speech,
• which even edgewise had seemed sharp to me,
• continuing, she began without delay:
• “Say, say if this be true, to such a charge
• must thy confession be united now.”

• My strength was so confounded, that my voice
• began to move, and wholly died away,
• ere by its organs it had been released.

• A while she bore it; then: “What thinkest thou?”
• she said, “Reply; for thy sad memories
• are not extinguished by the water yet.”

• Perplexity and fear together mixed
• extorted such a ‘Yes’ from out my mouth,
• that eyes to hear its utterance were required.

• Even as a crossbow breaks its cord and bow,
• whenever with too great a tension shot,
• and with less force the arrow strikes its mark;
• so ’neath that heavy burden I broke down,
• and as I poured forth gushing tears and sighs,
• my voice more slowly through its passage came.

• Then she: “Across the paths which I desired,
• and which were leading thee to love the Good,
• beyond which there is nothing one can wish,
• what trenches didst thou find, or hindering chains,
• for which thou thus must needs despoil thyself
• of hope of further progress on thy way?
• What luring charms or what advantages
• displayed themselves upon the brows of others,
• that thou shouldst pay thy passing court to them?”

• Thereat, when I had heaved a bitter sigh,
• I scarcely had the voice to make an answer,
• and painfully my lips gave form to it.
• Weeping, I said: “Things of the present turned
• with their delusive joy my steps aside,
• as soon as e’er your face was hid from me.”

• “Hadst thou been silent, or hadst thou denied”
• said she, “what thou confessest, no less clear
• would be thy guilt, since known by such a Judge.
• But when self-accusation of one’s sin
• from one’s own cheek breaks forth, in this our court
• the wheel is turned to blunt the sharpened edge.
• And yet, that for thy fault thou mayst be now
• the more ashamed, and that, when thou again
• shalt hear the sirens, thou mayst stronger be,
• desist thou now from sowing tears, and hark;
• so shalt thou hear o’er what a different path
• my buried body should have moved thy feet.

• Nature ne’er showed thee, nor did art, such beauty
• as did the pleasing members which enclosed me,
• and which are scattered now, dissolved in earth;
• hence if the highest pleasure failed thee thus
• by reason of my death, what mortal thing
• should afterward have drawn thee to desire it?
• At the first arrow of deceitful things
• thou surely oughtest to have risen up
• to follow me, who was no longer such.
• Thy wings, at least, should not have been weighed down,
• to wait for further blows from some young girl,
• or other vain thing of as brief a use.
• A young bird waits for two blows or for three;
• but ’fore the eyes of fully feathered birds
• a net is spread or arrow shot in vain.”

• As children who are silent when ashamed,
• and with their eyes upon the ground, keep list’ning,
• and conscience-stricken and repentant are;
• so I remained; and she: “Since thou art grieved
• because of hearing me, lift up thy beard,
• and thou from seeing shalt receive more grief.”

• With less resistance is a sturdy oak
• uprooted, either by our native wind,
• or by the wind that blows from Jarba’s land,
• than I at her behest raised up my chin;
• and when by ‘beard’ she asked to see my face,
• I well perceived the venom in her words.

• Thereafter when my face was raised again,
• I saw that those first creatures were at rest
• from strewing flowers; and thereupon mine eyes,
• which were as yet but partially assured,
• saw Beatrice turned toward the Animal
• which in two natures one sole person is.
• Though ’neath her veil and ’cross the stream, it seemed
• to me that she surpassed her old-time self,
• more than she did all others, when on earth.

• So pricked me now the nettle of repentance,
• that, of all other things, what turned me most
• unto its love, became to me most hostile.
• Whereat such great contrition gnawed my heart,
• that, overcome, I fell; and what I then
• became, she knows who gave me cause for it.

• Then, when my heart restored my outward strength,
• I saw the Lady I found alone, above me,
• saying: “Hold on to me! Hold on to me!”

• Into the stream she had already borne me
• up to my neck, and, dragging me behind her,
• light as a shuttle o’er its top was moving.
• When I was near the blessèd shore, I heard:
• ‘Purge me with hyssop’ said in tones so sweet,
• that far from writing, I can not recall it.

• The lovely Lady, stretching out her arms,
• embraced my head, and plunged me in the stream
• so far, that I was forced to drink its water.

• Drawing me thence, she set me when thus bathed
• within the dance-ring of the lovely four;
• and each of them embraced me with her arm.

• “Nymphs are we here, and in the sky are stars;
• ere Beatrice came down into the world
• we were ordained to be her maids. We ’ll lead thee
• to see her eyes; but, for the joyous light
• therein, the three upon the other side,
• who more profoundly gaze, will sharpen thine.”

• Thus singing they began; and thereupon
• they led me with them to the Griffon’s breast,
• where, turning toward us, Beatrice remained.
• And “See to it that thou spare not thine eyes;”
• they said, “before the emeralds we have set thee,
• whence Love of old against thee drew his shafts.”

• A thousand wishes hotter far than flames
• bound mine eyes fast to those resplendent eyes,
• which on the Griffon set their steady gaze.
• As in a glass the sun, not otherwise
• the two-fold Animal was gleaming in them,
• at first in one, then in another way.

• Think, Reader, if I wondered, when I saw
• that It was keeping quiet in Itself,
• while in Its image It was changing form.

• While, glad and with amazement filled, my soul
• was tasting of the food, which, while it sates,
• still causes thirst and hunger for itself;

• proving themselves to be of higher rank
• by reason of their deeds, the other three
• came dancing to their angel roundelay.

• “Turn thou,” their song was, “turn thou, Beatrice,
• thy holy eyes upon thy faithful one,
• who hath, to see thee, ta’en so many steps.
• Kindly do us the favor to unveil
• thy mouth to him, that he may thus perceive
• the second loveliness which thou dost hide.”

• O Splendor of eternal living Light,
• who, ’neath Parnassus’ shades, e’er grew so pale,
• or from its cistern e’er so deeply drank,
• as not to feel bewildered in his mind,
• should he attempt to paint what thou didst seem,
• when, symbolized by Heaven’s own harmonies,
• thou didst reveal thee in the open air?