Purgatory: Canto XXVII. Seventh Ledge: The Lustful.--Passage Through The Flames.
Seventh Ledge: the Lustful.--Passage through the
Flames.--Stairway in the rock.--Night upon the stairs.--Dream of
Dante.--Morning.--Ascent to the Earthly Paradise.--Last words of
Virgil.
As when he darts forth his first rays there where his Maker shed
His blood (Ebro falling under the lofty Scales, and the waves in
the Ganges scorched by noon) so the sun was now standing;[1] so
that the day was departing, when the glad Angel of God appeared
to us. Outside the flame he was standing on the bank, and was
singing, "Beati mundo corde,"[2] in a voice far more living than
ours: then, "No one goes further, ye holy souls, if first the
fire sting not; enter into it, and to the song beyond be ye not
deaf," he said to us, when we were near him. Whereat I became
such, when I heard him, as is he who in the pit is put.[3] With
hands clasped upwards, I stretched forward, looking at the fire,
and imagining vividly human bodies I had once seen burnt. The
good Escorts turned toward me, and Virgil said to me, "My son,
here may be torment, but not death. Bethink thee! bethink thee!
and if I even upon Geryon guided thee safe, what shall I do now
that I am nearer God? Believe for certain that if within the
belly of this flame thou shouldst stand full a thousand years, it
could not make thee bald of one hair. And if thou perchance
believest that I deceive thee, draw near to it, and make trial
for thyself with fine own hands on the hem of thy garments. Put
aside now, put aside every fear; turn hitherward, and come on
secure."
[1] It was near sunrise at Jerusalem, and consequently near
sunset in Purgatory, midnight in Spain, and midday at the Ganges.
[2] "Blessed are the pure in heart."
[3] Who is condemned to be buried alive.
And I still motionless and against conscience!
When he saw me still stand motionless and obdurate, he said,
disturbed a little, "Now see, son, between Beatrice and thee is
this wall."
As at the name of Thisbe, Pyramus, at point of death, opened his
eyelids and looked at her, what time the mulberry became
vermilion, so, my obduracy becoming softened, I turned me to the
wise Leader, hearing the name that in my memory is ever welling
up. Whereat he nodded his head, amid said, "How! do we want to
stay on this side?" then he smiled as one doth at a child who is
conquered by an apple.
Then within the fire he set himself before me, praying Statius,
that he would come behind, who previously, on the long road, had
divided us. When I was in, into boiling glass I would have thrown
myself to cool me, so without measure was the burning there. My
sweet Father, to encourage me, went talking ever of Beatrice,
saying, "I seem already to see her eyes. A voice was guiding us,
which was singing on the other side, and we, ever attentive to
it, came forth there where was the ascent. "Venite, benedicti
patris mei,"[1] sounded within a light that was there such that
it overcame me, and I could not look on it. "The sun departs," it
added, "and the evening comes; tarry not, but hasten your steps
so long as the west grows not dark."
[1] "Come, ye blessed of my Father."--Matthew, xxv. 34.
The way mounted straight, through the rock, in such direction[1]
that I cut off in front of me the rays of the sun which was
already low. And of few stairs had we made essay ere, by the
vanishing of the shadow, both I and my Sages perceived behind us
the setting of the sun. And before the horizon in all its immense
regions had become of one aspect, and night had all her
dispensations, each of us made of a stair his bed; for the nature
of the mountain took from us the power more than the delight of
ascending.
[1] Toward the east.
As goats, who have been swift and wayward on the peaks ere they
are fed, become tranquil as they ruminate, silent in the shade
while the sun is hot, guarded by the herdsman, who on his staff
is leaning and, leaning, watches them; and as the shepherd, who
lodges out of doors, passes the night beside his quiet flock,
watching that the wild beast may not scatter it: such were we all
three then, I like a goat, and they hike shepherds, hemmed in on
this side and on that by the high rock. Little of the outside
could there appear, but through that little I saw the stars both
brighter and larger than their wont. Thus ruminating, and thus
gazing upon them, sleep overcame me, sleep which oft before a
deed be done knows news thereof.
At the hour, I think, when from the east on the mountain first
beamed Cytherea, who with fire of love seems always burning, I
seemed in dream to see a lady, young and beautiful, going through
a meadow gathering flowers, and singing she was saying, "Let him
know, whoso asks my name, that I am Leah, and I go moving my
fair hands around to make myself a garland. To please me at the
glass here I adorn me, but my sister Rachel never withdraws from
her mirror, and sits all day. She is as fain to look with her
fair eyes as I to adorn me with my hands. Her seeing, and me
doing, satisfies."[1]
[1] Leah and Rachel are the types of the active and the
contemplative life.
And now before the splendors which precede the dawn, and rise the
more grateful unto pilgrims as in returning they lodge less
remote,[1] the shadows fled away on every side, and my sleep with
them; whereupon I rose, seeing my great Masters already risen.
That pleasant apple which through so many branches the care of
mortals goes seeking, to-day shall put in peace thy hungerings."
Virgil used words such as these toward me, and never were there
gifts which could be equal in pleasure to these. Such wish upon
wish came to me to be above, that at every step thereafter I felt
the feathers growing for my flight.
[1] As they come nearer home.
When beneath us all the stairway had been run, and we were on the
topmost step, Virgil fixed his eyes on me, and said, "The
temporal fire and the eternal thou hast seen, son, and art come
to a place where of myself no further onward I discern. I have
brought thee here with understanding and with art; thine own
pleasure now take thou for guide: forth art thou from the steep
ways, forth art thou from the narrow. See there the sun, which on
thy front doth shine; see the young grass, the flowers, the
shrubs, which here the earth of itself alone produces. Until
rejoicing come the beautiful eyes which weeping made me come to
thee, thou canst sit down and thou canst go among them. Expect no
more or word or sign from me. Free, upright, and sane is thine
own free will, and it would be wrong not to act according to its
pleasure; wherefore thee over thyself I crown and mitre."
Flames.--Stairway in the rock.--Night upon the stairs.--Dream of
Dante.--Morning.--Ascent to the Earthly Paradise.--Last words of
Virgil.
As when he darts forth his first rays there where his Maker shed
His blood (Ebro falling under the lofty Scales, and the waves in
the Ganges scorched by noon) so the sun was now standing;[1] so
that the day was departing, when the glad Angel of God appeared
to us. Outside the flame he was standing on the bank, and was
singing, "Beati mundo corde,"[2] in a voice far more living than
ours: then, "No one goes further, ye holy souls, if first the
fire sting not; enter into it, and to the song beyond be ye not
deaf," he said to us, when we were near him. Whereat I became
such, when I heard him, as is he who in the pit is put.[3] With
hands clasped upwards, I stretched forward, looking at the fire,
and imagining vividly human bodies I had once seen burnt. The
good Escorts turned toward me, and Virgil said to me, "My son,
here may be torment, but not death. Bethink thee! bethink thee!
and if I even upon Geryon guided thee safe, what shall I do now
that I am nearer God? Believe for certain that if within the
belly of this flame thou shouldst stand full a thousand years, it
could not make thee bald of one hair. And if thou perchance
believest that I deceive thee, draw near to it, and make trial
for thyself with fine own hands on the hem of thy garments. Put
aside now, put aside every fear; turn hitherward, and come on
secure."
[1] It was near sunrise at Jerusalem, and consequently near
sunset in Purgatory, midnight in Spain, and midday at the Ganges.
[2] "Blessed are the pure in heart."
[3] Who is condemned to be buried alive.
And I still motionless and against conscience!
When he saw me still stand motionless and obdurate, he said,
disturbed a little, "Now see, son, between Beatrice and thee is
this wall."
As at the name of Thisbe, Pyramus, at point of death, opened his
eyelids and looked at her, what time the mulberry became
vermilion, so, my obduracy becoming softened, I turned me to the
wise Leader, hearing the name that in my memory is ever welling
up. Whereat he nodded his head, amid said, "How! do we want to
stay on this side?" then he smiled as one doth at a child who is
conquered by an apple.
Then within the fire he set himself before me, praying Statius,
that he would come behind, who previously, on the long road, had
divided us. When I was in, into boiling glass I would have thrown
myself to cool me, so without measure was the burning there. My
sweet Father, to encourage me, went talking ever of Beatrice,
saying, "I seem already to see her eyes. A voice was guiding us,
which was singing on the other side, and we, ever attentive to
it, came forth there where was the ascent. "Venite, benedicti
patris mei,"[1] sounded within a light that was there such that
it overcame me, and I could not look on it. "The sun departs," it
added, "and the evening comes; tarry not, but hasten your steps
so long as the west grows not dark."
[1] "Come, ye blessed of my Father."--Matthew, xxv. 34.
The way mounted straight, through the rock, in such direction[1]
that I cut off in front of me the rays of the sun which was
already low. And of few stairs had we made essay ere, by the
vanishing of the shadow, both I and my Sages perceived behind us
the setting of the sun. And before the horizon in all its immense
regions had become of one aspect, and night had all her
dispensations, each of us made of a stair his bed; for the nature
of the mountain took from us the power more than the delight of
ascending.
[1] Toward the east.
As goats, who have been swift and wayward on the peaks ere they
are fed, become tranquil as they ruminate, silent in the shade
while the sun is hot, guarded by the herdsman, who on his staff
is leaning and, leaning, watches them; and as the shepherd, who
lodges out of doors, passes the night beside his quiet flock,
watching that the wild beast may not scatter it: such were we all
three then, I like a goat, and they hike shepherds, hemmed in on
this side and on that by the high rock. Little of the outside
could there appear, but through that little I saw the stars both
brighter and larger than their wont. Thus ruminating, and thus
gazing upon them, sleep overcame me, sleep which oft before a
deed be done knows news thereof.
At the hour, I think, when from the east on the mountain first
beamed Cytherea, who with fire of love seems always burning, I
seemed in dream to see a lady, young and beautiful, going through
a meadow gathering flowers, and singing she was saying, "Let him
know, whoso asks my name, that I am Leah, and I go moving my
fair hands around to make myself a garland. To please me at the
glass here I adorn me, but my sister Rachel never withdraws from
her mirror, and sits all day. She is as fain to look with her
fair eyes as I to adorn me with my hands. Her seeing, and me
doing, satisfies."[1]
[1] Leah and Rachel are the types of the active and the
contemplative life.
And now before the splendors which precede the dawn, and rise the
more grateful unto pilgrims as in returning they lodge less
remote,[1] the shadows fled away on every side, and my sleep with
them; whereupon I rose, seeing my great Masters already risen.
That pleasant apple which through so many branches the care of
mortals goes seeking, to-day shall put in peace thy hungerings."
Virgil used words such as these toward me, and never were there
gifts which could be equal in pleasure to these. Such wish upon
wish came to me to be above, that at every step thereafter I felt
the feathers growing for my flight.
[1] As they come nearer home.
When beneath us all the stairway had been run, and we were on the
topmost step, Virgil fixed his eyes on me, and said, "The
temporal fire and the eternal thou hast seen, son, and art come
to a place where of myself no further onward I discern. I have
brought thee here with understanding and with art; thine own
pleasure now take thou for guide: forth art thou from the steep
ways, forth art thou from the narrow. See there the sun, which on
thy front doth shine; see the young grass, the flowers, the
shrubs, which here the earth of itself alone produces. Until
rejoicing come the beautiful eyes which weeping made me come to
thee, thou canst sit down and thou canst go among them. Expect no
more or word or sign from me. Free, upright, and sane is thine
own free will, and it would be wrong not to act according to its
pleasure; wherefore thee over thyself I crown and mitre."
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