Authors: Dante
‘How true,’ he said, ‘and I see him who bears
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the greatest blame dragged behind a beast
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toward the valley where there is no absolution.
‘The beast goes faster with each step,
and faster, until it hurls him to the ground
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and leaves his body horribly disfigured.
‘Those wheels do not have long to turn’—
and he looked skyward—‘until that which my speech
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has left obscure shall be made plain to you.
‘Now I must leave you here, for time
is precious in this realm so that I lose too much
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by moving at your pace, slow step by step.’
As sometimes a horseman dashes at a gallop
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from a troop of riders to attain
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the honor of the first encounter,
he went away from us with longer strides,
and I continued on with those two souls
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who were such noble leaders of the world.
And when he became a distant sight,
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my eyes kept following him,
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just as my mind hung on his words.
Suddenly a second tree, its branches green
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and weighted down with fruit,
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caught my eye as we came nearer.
I saw a crowd beneath it raising up their hands
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and calling—I don’t know what—up at the foliage,
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like headlong, foolish children
who beg, but he from whom they beg does not reply
and, to make their longing even stronger,
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holds the thing they want aloft and does not hide it.
Then they went away as if enlightened,
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and it was our turn to approach the lofty tree
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that turns away so many prayers and tears.
‘Pass on, do not come any closer.
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This is the offshoot of that tree above
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from which Eve plucked and ate the fruit.’
I do not know whose voice spoke out among the leaves.
Virgil and Statius and I drew closer to one another,
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moving on beside the rising cliff.
‘Remember,’ the voice went on, ‘those accursèd creatures,
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formed in the clouds, their chests both beast and man,
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who, drunk with wine, made war on Theseus,
‘and those Hebrews whose thirst revealed them slack,
so that Gideon would not take them with him
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when he charged from the hills on Midian.’
Thus, staying close to one edge of the path,
we passed on, hearing sins of gluttony
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that long ago received their wretched wages.
Then, farther apart along the road now empty,
we moved ahead at least a thousand paces,
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each of us silent, deep in his thoughts.
‘What are you thinking as you walk along,
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you three there by yourselves?’ a sudden voice inquired,
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at which I started, as do timid, drowsy beasts.
I raised my head to make out who it was,
and never was glass or metal in a furnace
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ever seen so glowing and so red
as the one I saw who said: ‘If you wish
to mount above, here is where you turn.
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This is the road for those who would find peace.’
His shining face had blinded me,
so that I turned and walked behind my teachers
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like someone led by only what he hears.
And as, announcing dawn, the breeze of May
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stirs and exudes a fragrance
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filled with the scent of grass and flowers,
just such a wind I felt stroking my brow
and I could feel the moving of his feathers,
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my senses steeped in odor of ambrosia.
I heard the words: ‘Blessed are they
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whom grace so much enlightens that appetite
fills not their breasts with gross desires,
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but leaves them hungering for what is just.’
I. The setting of the seventh terrace
II. Exemplars of Chastity
It was the hour when the ascent did not permit delay,
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for the sun had left the meridian to the Bull,
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and night had left it to the Scorpion.
Therefore, like one who does not stop
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but, urged on by the spur of need,
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plods along his way no matter what,
we thrust into the gap, one before the other,
single file, up stairs so narrow
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they separate those who climb them.
And as a baby stork may raise a wing,
longing to fly, but does not dare
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to leave its nest and lowers it again,
such was I, my desire to question kindled
and then put out, moving my mouth
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like a man who prepares himself to speak.
Despite our rapid pace, my gentle father said:
‘Relax the bent bow of your speech,
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now stretched to the arrow’s iron point.’
At that, with confidence I opened my mouth to ask:
‘How can it be that one grows thin
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here where there is no need for nourishment?’
‘If you recall how Meleager was consumed
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in the time it took to burn a log-end,’ he said,
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‘this will not be difficult for you to understand.
‘And if you consider how at your slightest motion
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your image moves within the glass,
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a concept that seems hard would then seem easy.
‘But, to soothe you and to grant your wish,
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here is Statius. I call on him, I beg him,
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to be the healer of your wounds.’
‘If I unfold the eternal plan before him
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in your presence,’ answered Statius,
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‘let my excuse be that I can’t refuse you.’