Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Dante Alighieri (1265–1321). The Divine Comedy.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Purgatory

Canto XVII ARGUMENT.—The Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy represents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This imagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them onward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference is purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of love, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the soul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either in respect of object or of degree.

CALL to remembrance, reader, if thou e’er

Hast on an Alpine height been ta’en by cloud,

Through which thou saw’st no better than the mole

Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene’er

The watery vapours dense began to melt

Into thin air, how faintly the sun’s sphere

Seem’d wading through them: so thy nimble thought

May image, how at first I rebeheld

The sun, that bedward now his couch o’erhung.

Thus, with my leader’s feet still equaling pace,

From forth that could I came, when now expired

The parting beams from off the nether shores.

O quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost

So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark

Though round about us thousand trumpets clang;

What moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light

Moves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self-inform’d;

Or, likelier, gliding down with swift illapse

By will divine. Portray’d before me came

The traces of her dire impiety,

Whose form was changed into the bird, that most

Delights itself in song: and here my mind

Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place

To aught that ask’d admittance from without.

Next shower’d into my fantasy a shape

As of one crucified, whose visage spake

Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;

And round him Ahasuerus the great king;

Esther his bride; and Mordecai the just,

Blameless in word and deed. As of itself

That unsubstantial coinage of the brain

Burst, like a bubble, when the water fails

That fed it; in my vision straight uprose

A damsel weeping loud, and cried, “O queen!

O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire

Driven thee to loathe thy being? Not to lose

Lavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.

Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears

Mourn, ere I fall, a mother’s timeless end.”

E’en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly

New radiance strikes upon the closed lids,

The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;

Thus, from before me, sunk that imagery,

Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck

The light, outshining far our earthly beam.

As round I turn’d me to survey what place

I had arrived at, “Here ye mount”: exclaim’d

A voice, that other purpose left me none

Save will so eager to behold who spake,

I could not chuse but gaze. As ’fore the sun,

That weighs our vision down, and veils his form

In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail’d

Unequal. “This is Spirit from above,

Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;

And in his own light shrouds him. As a man

Doth for himself, so now is done for us.

For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need

Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepared

For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.

Refuse we not to lend a ready foot

At such inviting: haste we to ascend,

Before it darken: for we may not then,

Till morn again return.” So spake my guide;

And to one ladder both address’d our steps;

And the first stair approaching, I perceived

Near me as ’t were the waving of a wing,

That fann’d my face, and whisper’d: “Blessed they,

The peace-makers: they know not evil wrath.”

Now to such height above our heads were raised

The last beams, follow’d close by hooded night,

That many a star on all sides through the gloom

Shone out. “Why partest from me, O my strength?”

So with myself I communed; for I felt

My o’ertoil’d sinews slacken. We had reach’d

The summit, and were fix’d like to a bark

Arrived at land. And waiting a short space,

If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,

Then to my guide I turn’d, and said: “Loved sire!

Declare what guilt is on this circle purged.

If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause.”

He thus to me: “The love of good, whate’er

Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.

Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter’d ill.

But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,

Give ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull

Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.

“Creator, nor created being, e’er,

My son,” he thus began, “was without love,

Or natural, or the free spirit’s growth,

Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still

Is without error: but the other swerves,

If on ill object bent, or through excess

Of vigour, or defect. While e’er it seeks

The primal blessings, or with measure due

The inferior, no delight, that flows from it,

Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,

Or with more ardour than behoves, or less,

Pursue the good; the thing created then

Works ’gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer

That love is germin of each virtue in ye,

And of each act no less, that merits pain.

Now since it may not be, but love intend

The welfare mainly of the thing it loves,

All from self-hatred are secure; and since

No being can be thought to exist apart,

And independent of the first, a bar

Of equal force restrains from hating that.

“Grant the distinction just; and it remains

The evil must be another’s, which is loved.

Three ways such love is gender’d in your clay.

There is who hopes (his neighbour’s worth deprest)

Pre-eminence himself; and covets hence,

For his own greatness, that another fall.

There is who so much fears the loss of power,

Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount

Above him), and so sickens at the thought,

He loves their opposite: and there is he,

Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame,

That he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needs

Must dote on other’s evil. Here beneath,

This threefold love is mourn’d. Of the other sort

Be now instructed; that which follows good,

But with disorder’d and irregular course.

“All indistinctly apprehend a bliss,

On which the soul may rest; the hearts of all

Yearn after it; and to that wished bourn

All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold,

Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax;

This cornice, after just repenting, lays

Its penal torment on ye. Other good

There is, where man finds not his happiness:

It is not true fruition; not that blest

Essence, of every good the branch and root.

The love too lavishly bestow’d on this,

Along three circles over us, is mourn’d.

Account of that division tripartite

Expect not, fitter for thine own research.”