Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII

Eager, within it and around, each way
To search that heavenly forest dense and green,
That tempered to mine eyes the new-born day.

Waiting no more where I till then had been
Upon the bank, I went on slowly, slow,
O'er ground which fragrance breathed through all the scene;

And a sweet breeze towards me then did blow
With calm unvarying course upon my face.
Not with more force than gentlest wind doth show.

Thereat the leaves, set trembling all apace,
Bent themselves, one and all, towards the side
Where its first shade the Holy Hill doth trace;

Yet from the upright swerved they not aside
So far that any birds upon the spray
Ceased by their wonted taskwork to abide,

But, with full heart of joy, the breeze of day
They welcomed now within their leafy bower.
Which to their songs made music deep to play.

Like that which through the pine-wood runs each hour,
From branch to branch, upon Chiassi's shore,
When Æolus lets loose Sirocco's power.

Already had ray slow steps led me o'er
Such space within the ancient wood, that I
Where I had entered now discerned no more;

And lo! to bar my progress, I descry
A river on the left, whose rippling stream
Bent down the grass that to its banks grew nigh.

All waters here on earth men clearest deem
Would seem to have some turbid taint untrue,
Compared with that which nought to hide doth seem,

E'en though it flows on, brown and brown in hue.
Beneath the eternal shade where never sun
Nor moon the darkness with their rays break through.

My feet then halted, but mine eyes passed on
Beyond that little stream, that I might gaze
On the fresh varied may blooms one by one;

And then I saw — as one sees with amaze
A sight so sudden in bewilderment
That every other thought the shock doth daze —

A lady all alone, who, as she went,
Sang evermore, and gathered flower on flower.
With whose bright hues her path was all besprent.

"O lady sweet, whom rays of love have power
To warm, if I may trust to look and glance,
Which bear their witness of the hearts rich dower,

O may it please thee," said I, " to advance
To this fair border where I've ta'en my post,
That I to hear thy song have better chance.

Thou bringest to my thoughts the pleasant coast
Where strayed Proserpine when by fatal chance,"
Lost by her mother, she her spring flowers lost."

Then, as fair lady, moving in the dance.
Turns with her soles just lifted from the ground,
And scarcely one foot forward doth advance.

She among red and golden flowers turned round
To me, and with no other look she went
Than downcast eyes of maid with meekness crowned.

And now she gave my prayers their full content.
So drawing near me, that her song's sweet tone
Came to me, and I gathered what it meant.

Soon as she came where o'er the bank had grown
Plants with the waves of that fair river wet.
By special boon her eyes on me were thrown.

I do not deem such glorious light was set
Beneath the lids of Venus, when her son
Transfixed her as he never had done yet.

Erect, she smiled the other bank upon,
Those fair flowers culling with her hands' sweet art,
Which without seed that region high hath won.

By just three paces did the stream us part,
But Hellespont, where Xerxes crossed its wave,
Still even now a curb for man's proud heart.

Ne'er from Leander suffered hate more grave,
'Twixt Sestos and Abydos flowing strong.
Than that from me, because no ford it gave.

"Ye are new come," so she began ere long,
"And maybe, seeing I in this place smile.
Chosen as home to which man's race may throng.

This wondering springs from some distrust awhile;
But the psalm 'Delectasti' pours its ray
To free thy mind from clouds that thee beguile.

And thou, who art in front, and me didst pray.
Speak if thou more wouldst hear, for I came nigh
Ready for every question, doubt to stay."

"This stream," I said, "and forest's melody,
Clash in my mind with that my new-born faith
In what I heard, of this the contrary."

Then, " I will tell thee how is wrought," she saith,
"By its fit cause what doth thy wonder move,
And clear the cloud that thee embarrasseth.

The Good Supreme, self-centred in its love.
Made man as good, and gave this place of bliss
As earnest of eternal peace above;

By his own fault here short abode was his;
By his own fault, for weeping and dismay
He honest laughter, pleasant mirth doth miss.

And that the stir wherein the vapours play.
That rise exhaling from the land and sea.
And follow upon heat far as they may,

May not on man discharge their enmity,
This mountain rises up so high to heaven,
And from the point where it is barred is free.

Now since the air in steady course is driven.
With the prime movement circling everywhere,
Unless the circle is at some point riven,

Upon this summit, rising in pure air,
All free of contact, doth this motion smite.
And through the forest dense wakes murmurs rare.

And smitten thus, the plants have wondrous might
With virtue rare the breeze to impregnate,
And this, revolving, scatters it aright;

And yonder earth, according to its state.
Worthy in soil or climate, divers trees
Of diverse virtue then doth generate.

Thou should'st not deem thine eye a wonder sees,"
This being heard, when any plant may grow,
And, without seed appearing, gain increase;

And of this holy country thou shouldst know
It is, where thou art, full of every seed.
And fruit has in it gathered not below.

The stream thou see'st doth not from source proceed
Renewed from vapour by the cold congealed,
Like river that or gains or loses speed.

But flows from fount that sure supply doth yield.
Which just so much regains by will of God
As it sends forth, in twofold ways unsealed.

On this side it descends, with power endowed.
Which takes from men the memory of their sin.
On that, recalls to men each deed of good.

So here it doth the name of Lethe win,
And Eunoe there, and till men both shall taste,
Will not to do its wondrous work begin.

All other savours are by this surpassed;
And though thy thirst e'en now be satisfied,
So that I need not more to show thee haste,

Yet give I free corollary beside;
Nor that my speech will prove less dear, I deem,
If beyond promise with thee it abide.

Those who of old indulged in poet's theme
Of golden age and its high happiness,
Of this land had perchance Parnassian dream.

Here innocence man's primal root did bless,
Here ever Spring and every fruit abound;
The nectar this which they to know profess."

And then I turned me, face and body, round"
Upon my Bards, and saw that with a smile
They of those last words well had heard the sound;

Then to that lady fair I turned awhile.