Purgatorio (33 page)

               
‘gathers in the heart and carries

               
formative power to all members, like the blood

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that, flowing through, becomes a part of them.

               
‘Again digested, it descends where silence

               
is more fit than speech and from there later

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drops into the natural vessel on another’s blood.

               
‘There the one is mingled with the other,

               
one fitted to be passive and the other active,

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owing to the perfect place from which it springs,   
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‘and this one, so conjoined, begins to function,

               
first coagulating, then quickening that which,

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as its future matter, it has already thickened.

               
‘The active force, having now become a soul—   
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like a plant’s but differing in this: it is still

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on the way, while the plant has come to shore—

               
‘next functions, moving now and feeling,

               
like a sea-sponge, and from that goes on, producing   
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organs for the faculties of which it is the seed.

               
‘Now unfurls, now spreads the force, my son,

               
that comes straight from the heart of the begetter,

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there where nature makes provision for all members.

               
‘But how from animal it turns to human   
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you do not see as yet. This is the point   
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at which a wiser man than you has stumbled

               
‘in that his teaching rendered separate

               
the possible intellect from the soul,

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because he could not find the organ it could live in.

               
‘Open your heart to the truth that follows   
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and know that, once the brain’s articulation

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in the embryo arrives at its perfection,

               
‘the First Mover turns to it, rejoicing

               
in such handiwork of nature, and breathes

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into it a spirit, new and full of power,

               
‘which then draws into its substance

               
all it there finds active and becomes a single soul

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that lives, and feels, and reflects upon itself.

               
‘And, that you may be less bewildered by my words,   
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consider the sun’s heat, which, blended with the sap

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pressed from the vine, turns into wine.

               
‘When Lachesis runs short of thread, the soul   
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unfastens from the flesh, carrying with it

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potential faculties, both human and divine.

               
‘The lower faculties now inert,

               
memory, intellect, and the will remain

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in action, and are far keener than before.

               
‘Without pausing, the soul falls, miraculously,   
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of itself, to one or to the other shore.

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There first it comes to know its road.

               
‘As soon as space surrounds it there,

               
the formative force radiates upon it,

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giving shape and measure as though to living members.

               
‘And as the air, when it is full of rain,

               
is adorned with rainbow hues not of its making

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but reflecting the brightness of another,

               
‘so here the neighboring air is shaped

               
into that form the soul, which stays with it,

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imprints upon it by its powers.

               
‘And, like the flame that imitates its fire,

               
wherever that may shift and flicker,

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its new form imitates the spirit.

               
‘A shade we call it, since the insubstantial soul   
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is visible this way, which from the same air forms

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organs for each sense, even that of sight.

               
‘Through this we speak and through this smile.

               
Thus we shed tears and make the sighs

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you may have heard here on the mountain.

               
‘And, as we feel affections or desires,

               
the shade will change its form, and this

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is the cause of that at which you marvel.’

               
But now we had come to the final circling   
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and, turning to the right,

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we were attentive to another care.

               
There the bank discharges surging flames   
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and where the terrace ends, a blast of wind shoots up

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which makes the flames recoil and clear the edge,

               
so that we had to pass along the open side,

               
one by one, and here I feared the fire

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but also was afraid I’d fall below.

               
My leader said: ‘Along this path

               
a tight rein must be kept upon the eyes,

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for here it would be easy to misstep.’

               
‘Summae Deus clementiae’
I then heard sung   
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in the heart of that great burning,

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which made me no less eager to turn back,

               
and I saw spirits walking in the flames,

               
so that I watched them and my footsteps,

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dividing my attention, now there, now here.

               
After the hymn was sung through to its end

               
they cried aloud:
‘Virum non cognosco,’
   
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then, in softer tones, began the hymn again.

               
When it was finished, next they cried:   
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‘Diana kept to the woods and drove Callisto out

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for having felt the poisoned sting of Venus.’

               
Then they again began to sing,   
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calling on wives and husbands who were chaste,

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even as virtue and matrimony urge.

               
And this way they go on, I think,

               
for as long as the fire burns them.

               
With such treatment and with just such diet   
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must the last of all the wounds be healed.

               
One before the other, we walked along the edge,

               
and often the good master said to me:

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‘Careful now, pay attention to my warnings.’   
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The sun was beating down on my right shoulder,   
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for now its beams were changing

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the aspect of the west from blue to white,

               
and as my shadow made the flames appear   
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more glowing, I saw that many of the shades,

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as they went past, took note of that faint sign.

               
It was this that made them speak of me,

               
and they began by telling one another:

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‘This man’s body does not seem made of air.’   
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