Purgatorio: Canto XXI

The natural thirst which nought can satisfy
Save the pure fount from which Samaria's child
Of old entreated bountiful supply

Wrought on me, urging eager steps and wild.
In that encumbered path beside my Guide;
And me to pity that just doom beguiled.

And lo! as Luke the record hath supplied
That Christ to two appeared in the way,
When He had left the grave-vault yawning wide.

So now behind a shadow seemed to stray,
Down gazing on the crowd that lay below,
Nor were we 'ware of him till he did say:

"My brothers, God's peace guide you as ye go!"
Then suddenly we turned, and Virgil gave
The answering token we to such words owe;

Then spake: " Amid the host whom God doth save
May that true Judge's Court in peace thee place,
Who me into eternal exile drave!"

"How! " said he, while we went with quicker pace,
If ye are shades whom God doth not yet deign
To help, who guides you on these stairs of Grace?"

And then my Teacher: "If the marks full plain
Thou note the Angel did on this man lay,
Thou'lt see he needs must with the righteous reign.

But since that she who spinneth night and day
Hath not as yet drawn all the distaff's thread.
Which Clotho gives to each, and winds away,

His soul, to thine and mine as sister bred.
Mounting thus upward, could not come alone.
Because it sees not, as we see, to tread.

Hence I from out hell's wide-oped jaws have flown
To guide him on, and I his feet will guide.
As far as lore of mine the power may own.

But tell me, if thou know'st, why all the side
O' the mountain shook, and why the spirits here,
All, to its sea-washed feet, with one voice cried?

Thus asking, he so hit the centre clear
Of my desire, that, with the hope alone.
My thirst was felt at once as less severe.

Then he began: " No creature here hath known,
Without occasion fit, the holy awe
Of this our mount, or has its use outgrown.

Free are we here from chance and change's law;
When one received by Heaven to Heaven doth go,
This, and nought else, as cause, effect may draw:

Since neither showers of rain, not hail nor snow,
Nor dew nor hoar-frost falleth here, above
That first short staircase of three steps below.

Nor see we clouds, or dense or rarer, move.
Nor flashing light, nor child of Thaumas fair,"
Who oft on earth with changing home doth rove

Nor vapour arid mounts above the stair.
The topmost of the three of which I spake;
The Vicar of St. Peter standeth there.

Below us more or less the earth may quake;"
But, from the wind within the earth concealed,
I know not how, it never here did shake.

It trembles here, when guilty soul is healed.
So that it soars aloft, or up doth rise
Higher to climb, and that cry help doth yield.

Of purity the will full proof supplies.
Which, wholly free to change its wonted spot,
Seizes the soul, and so helps that it flies.

First it wills good; but impulse suffers not.
Which with like will God's justice setteth fast,
As once to sin, so now to torment's lot.

And I o'er whom five hundred years have passed,
Placed in this torment, felt but now within
Free will to seek a better seat at last

Therefore thou heard'st just now the earthquake's din,
And the blest spirits through the Mount give praise
To their high Lord, that soon their way they win."

So spake he, and as that which thirst allays
Gives pleasure to the thirst proportionate,
I fail to tell what joy his words did raise.

And my wise Leader: " Now I see the net
That holds you here, and how ye thence depart,
Why the earth quakes and ye conjubilate.

Now let me know, I pray thee, who thou art.
And why thus stretched so many centuries
Thou did'st lie here, to me, I pray, impart."

'When Titus good and wise, in days of old.
With help of Heaven's high king avenged the wounds
Whence flowed the blood by guilty Judas sold.

With name whence praise lasts longest, most redounds,
I lived in yonder world,'' the soul replied.
'Fame had I much, but knew not true faith's grounds.

My soul of song flowed on in such sweet tide
That, though Tolosa-born, me great Rome claimed,
Where I my wreaths of myrtle wore with pride.

As Statius yet in yonder world I'm famed;
I sang of Thebes and of Achilles great;
But fell with that my burden second-named.

Seeds for my glowing fire did scintillate.
Kindling my soul, from that divinest light,
Which many thousand doth illuminate.

Of the Æneid speak I, which was quite
My foster nurse, my mother-poesy;
Without it, not a dram had I of might

And to have lived in yonder world, when I
With Virgil might have lived, I would have borne
A year yet more ere I from exile fly."

These words made Virgil then towards me turn
With looks which in their stillness said " Be still;"
Yet sometimes even will must failure learn,

For tears and laughter so their course fulfil,
Following the passions whence each takes its rise.
That least in truest souls they follow will.

I did but smile, as one who winks his eyes;
Then silent was the shade, and gazed on me
Full in those orbs where most fixed image lies,

And said, "As thou dost hope the end to see
Of thy great task, why saw I in thy face
But now the lightning of a smile of glee?"

Thus am I on each side in evil case;
One bids me hold my peace, the other speak;
Therefore I sigh, and both my meaning trace.

"Speak," said my Master, " fear thou not to break
Thy silence, but speak out, and to him tell
What he with such anxiety doth seek."

Then I: " Perchance some wonder on thee fell,
O ancient spirit, from that smile of mine:
But I would have thee feel more wondrous spell.

Lo, he who guides mine eyes to height divine.
He is that Virgil from whom thou didst gain
The strength to sing of Gods and heroes' line:

By other cause that smile would'st thou explain,
Count it not true; in this the true cause greet,
E'en in the words thou spok'st of him so plain."

Already was he bowed to clasp the feet
Of my wise Guide, but he, " O Brother," spake,
Not so; for thou, a shade, a shade dost meet."

And he uprising, said, " Now thou canst take
The measure of the love which burns in me,
When shadowy forms for solid I mistake,"

And quite forget that vanity are we."