Purgatorio: Canto VI

When game of Zara cometh to an end,
The loser stays behind in sorrowing mood:
Goes o'er his throws again, and fain would mend;

Off with the other moveth all the crowd,
One walks before, one closely clings behind,
And, at his side, of notice one is proud.

He pauses not, this friend or that doth mind,
And he who gets his hand no more doth press;
Thus through the throng his safe way he doth wind.

So was I in the midst of that crowd's stress,
Turning to them, now here, now there, my face,
And from them freed myself by promises.

One I saw there, an Aretine in race,
Whom the fierce arm of Ghin di Tacco slew.
And one who perished drowning, in the chase."

Near me, with outstretched hands entreating, drew
Frederic Novello, and the Pisan youth
Who made Marzucco show his greatness true.

I saw Count Orso; him too who, in sooth,
Through envy and fierce hatred, lost his life,"
And not for guilty deed; so spake he truth;

Pierre de la Brosse I mean: and let the wife
Of Brabant, let her now on earth take heed
Lest she should join a herd with worse ills rife.

As soon as I from all those souls was freed,"
Who only prayed that others for them pray.
That they might holier grow with greater speed.

Then I began: " It seems that thou dost say,
O my true Light, in text express and plain,
That to no prayer doth Heaven's decree give way;

And yet this tribe is eager prayers to gain:
Shall then their hope be proved a thing of nought?
Or do thy words thought unrevealed contain?"

And he to me: ' My text is clearly taught;
And yet that hope of theirs leads not astray,
If to discernment reason sound be brought.

For height of justice doth not fall away,
Because love's fire doth in an hour complete
The debt which he who dwells here needs must pay.

And there, where I of this same point did treat,
Default was not amended aught by prayer,
Because the prayer no grace from God did meet:

But in a question rousing such deep care,
Decide not till She tells it all to thee,
Who light 'twixt truth and intellect shall bear.

I know not if thou understandest me;
I speak of Beatrice; her, o' the height
Above, all blest and smiling, thou shalt see."

And I: " Good Leader, speed we on our flight,
For I am now not tired as heretofore;
And see, the hills cast shadows in our sight."

"We," answered he, " with this day shall explore
As far as we are able, but this learn,
The fact is other than thy thoughts brood o'er.

Ere thou the height shalt gain, thou'lt see him turn,"
Who now behind the hill from sight is flown.
That we no more his broken rays discern.

But see thou there a soul that all alone.
With fixed gaze, towards us turns his eye;
He will to us the quickest way make known."

We came to him. O soul from Lombardy!
How stood'st thou there in thy disdainful pride.
With glances slowly turned and nobly shy!

He spake to us no word, but turned aside,
And let us go, with look upon us bent,
Like lion, when he couching doth abide.

Still near to him Virgilius drew, intent
To beg that he would point the speediest way,
And he to that request no answer sent.

But of our country and our life did pray
Fully to know. And my sweet Guide began:
"In Mantua; " then from where he erst did stay.

All self-absorbed, full quick to him he ran,
Saying, as each the other clasped, See here
Sordello, of thy land, O Mantuan.""

Ah, base Italia, home of grief and fear,
Ship without pilot, where the storm blows shrill,
No queen of kingdoms, but a harlots' lair!

That noble soul showed this quick eager will,
At the sweet name of his dear fatherland,
His countryman with gladsome joy to fill;

And now in thee the living never stand
From conflict free, and one the other tears,!
Of those within one wall's, one rampart's, band.

Search round thy coasts, O thou of many cares,
Washed by the sea; then look within thy breast,
If any part in peaceful gladness shares.

What boots it that Justinian did his best
The rein to mend, if saddle empty be?
Without it thou would'st be less shame-opprest.

Ah, race that should'st be given to piety,
And let the Caesar in his saddle sit,
If well thou hearest what God teacheth thee;

Look how this beast grows wild in frenzy's fit,
Seeing no spurs are there its course to guide,
Since erst the curb did feel thy hand on it.

O Teuton Albert, who dost turn aside
From her that fierce and wild her way doth wend,
And oughtest on her saddle-bow to ride;

May a just judgment from the st descend
Upon thy blood, and be it clear and new,
That thy successor fear as dread an end!

Since thou hast suffered, and thy father too,
Distracted by the greed of distant lands,
The Empire's garden to lie waste to view.

See the Montecchi, Cappelletti stand,
Monaldi, Filippeschi, reckless one,
Those sad already, these suspicion-banned;

Come, cruel one, yea, come, to thee be shown
Thy people's woes, and heal the wounds that ail,"
And see how safe Santafiore's grown!

Yea, come and see thy Rome that still doth wail.
Widowed, alone, and day and night laments;
"My Caesar, why dost thou to help me fail?"

Yea, come, and see how love her tribes cements;
And if no pity for us thine heart move,
Let fear of shame stir up thy soul's intents!

And — if the name be lawful— our great Jove,
Who, on the earth for us wast crucified.
Have Thy just eyes withdrawn their light above?

Or dost Thou, in Thy wisdom's depth, provide,
And pave the way for some great good unseen,
Which Thou from our perception still dost hide?

For all Italians regions filled have been
With tyrants, and each churl, on faction bent,
Comes as a new Marcellus on the scene!

Thou, O my Florence, mayst be well content
With this digression, which is nought to thee,
Thanks to thy people, wise in argument.

Many with justice in their hearts we see"
Linger, lest unadvised they draw the bow;
Thy people hath it on the tongue's tip free.

Many to bear the common charge are slow;
But thy good anxious people, though none call.
Are heard to cry, " The yoke I'll undergo."

Rejoice thee now, thou hast the wherewithal;
Rich art thou, thine is peace, and thou art wise!
If true my words, facts will not hide at all.

Athens and Lacedaemon, whence did rise
The laws of old, on civil order bent,
Took but short step to where life's true good lies.

Compared with thee, so subtly provident
Of wise reforms, that, half November gone.
Nought lingers that was for October meant.

How often, in the times to memory known,
Hast thou changed laws, coins, polity and right,
And altered all thy members one by one!

And if thou well reflect, and see the light,
Thou shalt behold thyself as woman sick,
Who on her pillow finds no rest at night,

And seeks to ease her pain by turning quick.