Purgatorio: Canto XIV

''Who then is he that circles this hill's slope,
Ere he, by death enfranchised, here hath flown,
Who at his will doth close his eyes or ope?"

'I know him not, but know that not alone
He comes; ask thou, he nearer thee doth wend,'
And that he speak, greet him with gentle tone."

So did two souls, as each to each did bend.
Hold converse of me there upon my right.
Then upward turned their face, as greeting friend.

And one said: " O thou soul, who still art dight"
In flesh, yet to high Heaven art moving on.
Of thy great love console us; tell outright

Whence thou art come, and who, for thou hast won
Such marvel from us by this grace of thine,
As wins a thing that ne'er before was done.""

And I: " There flows, where Tuscan slopes incline,
A stream that springs from Falterona's fount,
Nor do a hundred miles its course confine;

This frame I bring from banks that it surmount:
To tell thee who I am were speech in vain,
For yet my name sounds not of great account."

If well thy meaning doth a footing gain
Within my mind," then answered me the one
Who first spake, " thou of Arno speakest plain."

Then said the other: " Why this mystery thrown
By him upon the name that stream doth bear,
As on a thing too dreadful to be shown?

And then the shade that did that question hear,
Thus answered: " That I know not, but indeed
'Tis meet that valley's name oblivion share;"

For from its source, where such full streams proceed,
In that Alp-range whence is Peloro riven,
That in few spots it doth that mark exceed,

Down to the point where to the sea is given
A due return for what the sky hath dried,
Whence rivers on their downward course are driven.

Virtue her head, as though a foe, must hide.
Like viper shunned of all, or through ill chance
Of climate, or by evil custom tried;

And hence that wretched vale's inhabitants
Do in their nature such a change endure,
'Twould seem they fed, as Circe's visitants,

Among foul swine, of acorns worthier sure
Than of aught else that's made for human food.
At first it creeps with scanty stream and poor,

Then lower down it finds a currish brood,
That snarl far more than they have power to bite,
And turns its face from them in scornful mood.

It flows and falls, and as it gains in mighty
Finds the dogs changed to savage wolves and fell,
That ditch accursed and in evil plight.

Descending then, its streams through deep dales swell,
And find the foxes whom all ill frauds fill;
'Gainst fear of traps their cunning serves them well;

Nor cease I, though another hear me still,
And well 'twill be for him to bear in mind
What Truth's high Spirit opens at its will.

I see thy grandson whom those wolves shall find
As hunter fierce upon that wild stream's ways,
With spell of fear their troubled souls to bind;

He sells the flesh, though life still in them stays,
And then he slays them, like a worn-out steer;
Many he robs of life, himself of praise.

Blood-stained he issues from that forest drear.
And leaves it such that for ten centuries,
Its primal growth it never more shall bear."

As at the news of grievous miseries
The listener's face is clouded o'er with gloom,
Upon whatever side the danger rise.

So I that other soul who heard this doom
With head inclined, saw grieved in sore chagrin,
When on his soul the sentence dread did loom.

The speech of one, the other's look and mien,
Made me wish much to know who they might be.
And this I asked, with prayers thrown in between.

Whereat the spirit who first spake to me.
Began again: " Thou wishest I should bend.
What thou for me dost not, to do for thee;

But since God wills so visibly to send
Such grace to thee, thy prayer I will not spurn:
Guido del Duca I, to this attend.

So did my boiling blood with envy burn
That if I saw a man with gladsome brow.
Thou would'st have seen me pale and livid turn.

As I sowed then, such straw-crop reap I now:
O race of men, why place your whole heart there
Where a fixed law no partner will allow?

Renier is this; and he the fame doth bear
Of all the house of Calboli, where none
Of that high praise of his is worthy heir;

Nor is his stock thus stripped the only one
'Twixt Po and mountain, Reno and the sea,
Reft of the good whence truth and joy are won.

For all within these limits filled we see
With plants of poison, so that all too late
To check their growth good tillage now would be.

Where is good Lizio, where Manardi great,
Guy of Carpigna and Pier Traversar'?
O Romagnuoli, race degenerate!

When shall a Fabbro for Bologna care?
When shall Faenz' a Bernard Fosco own,
Full noble growth from shoots that lowly are!

Wonder then not, O Tuscan, if I moan.
When I Guido da Prata call to mind.
And Ugolin of Azzo, whom we've known;

Frederic Tignoso, with his kith and kind;
The Traversari, Anastagi's line;
(Neither of which true heir hath left behind).

Ladies and knights; the labours wont to join
With sports, once love and courtesy's delight,"
Where now men's hearts to baseness vile decline.

O Brettinoro, why not flee from sight,
Since gone to wreck is all thy family,
And many more, to 'scape being vile outright?

Good is Bagnacaval's sterility,
And ill does Castrocar', and Conio worse,
Who rear of Counts such evil progeny.

Well will Pagani do, their demon curse
Being taken from them, yet their evil fame
Shall still cleave close when men their deeds rehearse.

O Ugolin de' Fantoli, thy name
In safety stands, for none are waiting seen
Who can, degenerate, mar its praise with shame.

But go thy way, O Tuscan; now, I ween,
Tis sweeter far for me to weep than speak,
So by our converse grieved my mind hath been."

We knew each footstep those dear souls and meek
Heard, as we went, and therefore silently
They made us bold our onward way to seek.

When we advancing left that company,
As thunder when it cleaves the air, did thrill
A voice, and as it spake to us, drew nigh.

Crying, "Whoever findeth me shall kill,"
And fled, as thunder peals die off around.
When the dark cloud no more the sky doth fill.

And when our ears had respite from that sound,
Behold another with such loud acclaim,
It seemed like thunder in its quick rebound,

"I am Aglauros, who a stone became."
And then, that I might keep the Poet near,
Backward my footsteps, and not forward, came.

Already was there stillness through the air,
And he said to me, " That was the hard rein
That ought a man within due bounds to bear.

But ye the bait still swallow, and are ta'en
By the curved hook of that old Enemy,
And curb and call avail not to restrain.

The Heavens call on you wheeling round on high,
And show to you their beauteous orbs eterne.
Yet your gaze only on the earth doth lie,

And so He chastens who doth all discern.''