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Authors: Dante

BOOK: Purgatorio
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III. Satisfaction

91–102
   
when Dante comes back to his senses he finds Matelda above him, telling him to hold on to her, as she draws him, submerged to the throat, through Lethe; as he approaches the far shore, he hears Psalm 50:9 sung so sweetly that he cannot remember it, much less write it; Matelda submerges Dante, who drinks the water of Lethe

Postlude: the eyes and smile of Beatrice

103–111
   
Matelda draws Dante forth from the river into the dance of the four cardinal virtues, who identify themselves as nymphs here and stars in heaven, ordained as Beatrice’s handmaids before she came into the world; they promise to bring him to Beatrice; in the light of her eyes the three theological virtues will make his seeing still sharper
112–117
   
the four bring him to Beatrice, standing at the breast of the griffin and facing him and the four ladies; they advise him to gaze into Beatrice’s eyes
118–120
   
desire draws Dante’s eyes to the eyes of Beatrice, which remain fixed on the griffin
121–123
   
simile: sun:mirror: :griffin:Beatrice’s eyes
124–126
   
address to the reader: his wonderment at what he sees
127–138
   
as Dante’s soul, full of amazement in its joy, tastes of the food that simultaneously satiates and causes hunger, the other three (higher) virtues dance up to Dante and bid Beatrice to look at her faithful lover and reveal the smile that she has up to now concealed
139–145
   
the poet’s apostrophe of her smile as a reflection of God
PURGATORIO XXXI

               
‘O you on the far side of the sacred stream,’   

               
turning the point of her words on me   

3
             
that had seemed sharp enough when I felt their edge,

               
she then went on without a pause: ‘Say it,

               
say if this is true. To such an accusation   

6
             
your confession must be joined.’

               
My faculties were so confounded

               
that my voice struggled up but spent itself

9
             
before it made its way out of my mouth.

               
For a moment she held back, then asked:   

               
‘What are you thinking? Speak, for your memories

12
           
of sin have not been washed away by water yet.’

               
Confusion and fear, mixed together,

               
drove from my mouth a
yes

15
           
but one had need of eyes to hear it.

               
As a crossbow breaks with too much tension   

               
from the pulling taut of cord and bow

18
           
so that the arrow strikes the target with less force,

               
thus I collapsed beneath that heavy load

               
and, with a flood of tears and sighs,

21
           
my voice came strangled from my throat.

               
At that she said to me: ‘In your desire for me   

               
that guided you to love that good

24
           
beyond which there is nothing left to long for,

               
‘what ditches or what chains did you encounter   

               
across your path to make you cast aside

27
           
all hope of going forward?

               
‘And what profit or advantage showed

               
in the face of other things so that you felt

30
           
you must parade yourself before them?’

               
After heaving a bitter sigh   

               
I hardly had the voice to give the answer

33
           
my lips were laboring to shape.

               
In tears, I said: ‘Things set in front of me,   

               
with their false delights, turned back my steps

36
           
the moment that Your countenance was hidden.’   

               
‘Had you stayed silent or denied what you confess,’   

               
she said, ‘your fault would not be any less apparent

39
           
since it is known to such a Judge.

               
‘But when a man’s own blushing cheek reveals

               
the condemnation of his sin, in our high court

42
           
the grindstone dulls the sharp edge of the sword.

               
‘Nonetheless, so that you now may bear

               
the shame of your straying and the next time

45
           
that you hear the Sirens’ call, be stronger,   

               
‘stop sowing tears and listen.   

               
Then you shall hear just how my buried flesh   

48
           
should have directed you to quite a different place.

               
‘Never did art or nature set before you beauty

               
as great as in the lovely members that enclosed me,

51
           
now scattered and reduced to dust.

               
‘And if the highest beauty failed you

               
in my death, what mortal thing

54
           
should then have drawn you to desire it?

               
‘Indeed, at the very first arrow   

               
of deceitful things, you should have risen up

57
           
and followed me who was no longer of them.

               
‘You should not have allowed your wings to droop,   

               
leaving you to other darts from some young girl

60
           
or other novelty of such brief use.

               
‘The fledgling may allow even a third attempt,

               
but all in vain is the net flung or arrow shot   

63
           
in sight of a full-fledged bird.’

               
As children in their shame stand mute, their eyes   

               
upon the ground, listening,

66
           
acknowledging their fault, repentant,

               
just so I stood. And then she said: ‘Now that

               
you are grieved by what you hear, lift up your beard   

69
           
and you shall have more grief from what you see.’

               
With less resistance is the sturdy oak   

               
torn from the earth, whether by our northern wind

72
           
or by the one that blows from Iarbas’ lands,

               
than was my chin nudged up by her command.

               
When by my beard she sought my face

75
           
I recognized the venom in her words.

               
And when I had raised my head

               
my eyes saw that those first-created beings   

78
           
had paused in scattering their flowers

               
and, my vision blurred and still uncertain,

               
saw Beatrice turning toward the beast

81
           
that is one person in two natures.   

               
Even beneath her veil, even beyond the stream,   

               
she seemed to surpass her former self in beauty

84
           
more than she had on earth surpassed all others.

               
The nettle of remorse so stung me then   

               
that whatever else had lured me most to loving

87
           
had now become for me most hateful.

               
Such knowledge of my fault was gnawing at my heart

               
that I was overcome, and what I then became

90
           
she knows who was the reason for my state.

               
Then, when my heart restored my vital signs,   

               
I saw the lady I first found alone above me,

93
           
saying: ‘Hold on to me and hold me fast!’

               
She drew me into the river up to my throat

               
and, pulling me along behind her, moved

96
           
upon the water as lightly as a skiff.

               
When I had come close to the blessèd shore

               
I heard
‘Asperges me’
so sweetly sung

99
           
that I cannot recall nor write it down.

               
The lovely lady spread her arms,

               
then clasped my head, and plunged me under,

102
         
where I was forced to swallow water.

               
Then she drew me out and led me, bathed,   

               
into the dance of the four lovely ladies

105
         
as each one raised an arm above my head.

               
‘Here we are nymphs and in heaven we are stars.

               
Before Beatrice descended to the world

108
         
we were ordained to serve her as her handmaids.

               
‘We will bring you to her eyes. But to receive   

               
the joyous light they hold, the other three,

111
         
who look much deeper into things, shall sharpen yours.’

               
Thus they began their song and then   

               
they took me to the griffin’s breast,

114
         
where Beatrice stood and faced us.

               
They said: ‘Do not withhold your gaze.   

               
We have placed you here before the emeralds

117
         
from which, some time ago, Love shot his darts.’

               
A thousand desires hotter than any flame

               
bound my eyes to those shining eyes,

120
         
which still stayed fixed upon the griffin.

               
Even as the sun in a mirror, not otherwise

               
the twofold beast shone forth in them,

123
         
now with the one, now with its other nature.   

               
Consider, reader, whether I was struck by wonder   

               
when I saw the thing itself remain as one

126
         
but in its image ever changing.

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