Purgatorio (6 page)

               
‘To that estuary he now sets his wings,

               
for there the souls collect

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that do not sink to Acheron.’

               
And I: ‘If a new law does not take from you   
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memory or practice of the songs of love

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that used to soothe my every sorrow,

               
‘please let me hear one now to ease my soul,

               
for it is out of breath and spent,

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joined to my body coming here.’   
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‘Love that converses with me in my mind,’   
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he then began, so sweetly   
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that the sweetness sounds within me still.

               
My master and I and all those standing

               
near Casella seemed untroubled,

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as if we had no other care.

               
We were spellbound, listening to his notes,   
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when that venerable old man appeared and cried:

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‘What is this, laggard spirits?

               
‘What carelessness, what delay is this?

               
Hurry to the mountain and there shed the slough

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that lets not God be known to you.’   
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As when doves, gathered at their feeding,   
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pecking here and there at wheat or tares,

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without their usual display of pride—

               
should something suddenly make them afraid—

               
will all at once forget their food

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because they are assailed by greater care,

               
thus I saw these new arrivals, their song cut short,

               
fleeing toward the mountain’s slope

               
like those who take an unfamiliar road.

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And we, with no less haste, departed.   
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Their sudden flight had scattered them   
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along the plain, toward the mountain

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where Justice tries our souls,

               
and I drew closer to my true companion.

               
How would I have come this far without him?

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Who would have led me up the mountain?

               
He seemed beside himself with self-reproach.   
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O pure and noble conscience,

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how bitter is the sting of your least fault!

               
When he had slowed the hectic pace   
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that mars the dignity of any action,

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my mind, at first withdrawn into itself,   
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now eagerly took in the wider landscape.

               
I fixed my gaze upon the highest hill

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rising from the sea into the sky.   
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The sun, its rays like red flames at my back,   
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was cut off by my body

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and threw the shadow of my shape before me.

               
Quickly I turned to look beside me,   
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afraid that I had been abandoned,

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since the ground was dark in front of me alone.

               
And my comfort, turning, then began to speak:   
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‘Why are you still distrustful?

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Do you not believe I am with you and guide you?

               
‘Evening has fallen there, where the body   
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that cast my shadow while I lived is buried.

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Taken from Brindisi, Naples holds it now.   
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‘Do not wonder if I cast no shadow,   
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no more than that the heavenly spheres

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do not cut off their rays from one another.

               
‘The Power that fits bodies like ours   
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to suffer torments, heat, and cold

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does not reveal the secret of its working.

               
‘Foolish is he who hopes that with our reason   
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we can trace the infinite path

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taken by one Substance in three Persons.

               
‘Be content, then, all you mortals, with the
quia
,   
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for could you, on your own, have understood,   
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there was no need for Mary to give birth,

               
‘and you have seen the fruitless hope of some,   
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whose very longing, unfulfilled,

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now serves them with eternal grief—

               
‘I speak of Aristotle and of Plato

               
and of many others.’ And here he lowered his brow,

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said nothing more, and seemed perturbed.

               
We now had come to the mountain’s base.   
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There we found the cliff so steep

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that nimble legs could not have climbed it.

               
The roughest, most deserted landslide   
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between Lèrici and Turbìa, compared with it,

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seems a wide and easy stairway.

               
‘Who would know where the hill slopes gently,’   
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mused my master, coming to a halt,

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‘where someone without wings might climb?’

               
And while, his eyes cast down,

               
he was searching in his mind to find the way,

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and I was looking up among the rocks,

               
there to the left I saw a company of souls   
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moving their steps in our direction,

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not seeming to approach, they came so slow.

               
‘Raise your eyes, master,’ I said, ‘look,   
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there are some who can offer us advice

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if you can’t puzzle out the way yourself.’

               
He looked up then and, reassured, replied:

               
‘Let us go toward them, for they come slowly,

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and you, dear son, hold to that hope.’

               
Even after we had walked a thousand steps

               
these souls were still quite far away—

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about the distance a strong arm could throw—

               
when they all pressed against the solid wall

               
of the high bank, standing still and close together,

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as men stop, taking stock, when they are puzzled.   
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‘O you who have come to a happy end,   
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spirits already chosen,’ Virgil began,

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‘by that peace which, I think, awaits you all,

               
‘tell us where the mountain rises gently

               
so that we may begin the long ascent.

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The more we know, the more we hate time’s waste.’

               
As sheep come from the fold, first one,   
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then two, then three, and the rest stand timid,

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bending eyes and muzzle to the ground,