Purgatorio: Canto XIII

We were at the top of the stairway where a second time the mount is cut away which, by our ascent, frees us from evil.

There a cornice binds the hill around like unto the first, save that its curve more sharply bends.

No shade is there, nor figure which may be seen; so naked the bank appears and even so the way, with the livid hue of the stone.

“If here we await people to ask of,” the poet was saying, “I fear perchance that our choice may have too great delay.”

Then fixedly on the sun his eyes he set; he made of his right side a centre of movement, and the left part of him did turn.

“O sweet light, in whose trust I enter on the new way, do thou lead us,” said he, “as we would be led here within;

thou givest warmth to the world, thou shinest upon it; if other reason urges not to the contrary, thy beams must ever be our guide.”

As far as here counts for a mile, so far there had we already gone, in short time, by reason of our ready will;

and, flying towards us were heard, but not seen, spirits, speaking courteous invitations to the table of love.

The first voice which passed by in its flight loudly said, “Vinum non habent” and went on repeating it behind us.

And ere it had wholly passed out of hearing through distance, another passed crying: “I am Orestes,” and also stayed not.

“O Father,” said I, “what voices are these?” and as I was asking, lo the third saying: “Love them from whom ye have suffered evil.”

And the good Master: “This circle doth scourge the sin of envy, and therefore the cords of the whip are drawn from love.

The bit must be of contrary sound; I think thou wilt hear it, as I opine, ere thou reachest the Pass of Pardon.

But fix thine eyes through the air full steadily, and thou shalt see people sitting down in front of us, and each one along the cliff is seated.”

Then wider than before mine eyes I opened; I looked before me, and saw shades with cloaks not different from the hue of the stone.

And after we were a little further forward, I heard a cry: “Mary, pray for us”; a cry: “Michael, and Peter, and all Saints.”

I believe not that on earth there goeth this day a man so hardened, who were not pierced with compassion at what I then saw;

for when I had reached so nigh to them that their features came distinctly to me, heavy grief was wrung from mine eyes.

With coarse haircloth they seemed to me covered, and one was supporting the other with the shoulder, and all were supported by the bank.

Even so the blind, to whom means are lacking, sit at Pardons begging for their needs; and one sinks his head upon the other,

so that pity may quickly be awakened in others, not only by the sound of their words, but by their appearance which pleads not less.

And as to the blind the sun profits not, so to the shades there where I was now speaking, heaven’s light will not be bounteous of itself;

for all their eyelids an iron wire pierces and stitches up, even as is done to a wild hawk because it abideth not still.

I seemed to do them wrong as I went my way seeing others, not being seen; wherefore I turned me to my wise Counsel.

Well knew he what the dumb would say, and therefore awaited not my questioning, but said: “Speak and be brief and to the point.”

Virgil was coming with me on that side of the cornice whence one may fall because it is surrounded by no parapet;

on the other side of me were the devout shades, who, through the horrible seam, were pressing forth tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

I turned me to them and began: “O people assured of seeing the Light above, which alone your desire hath in its care;

so may grace quickly clear away the scum of your conscience, that the stream of memory may descend clearly through it,

tell me (for to me ’twill be gracious and dear) if any soul be among you that is Italian, and perchance it will be good for him if I know of it.”

“O brother mine, each one is a citizen of a true city; but thou wouldest say, that lived a pilgrim in Italy.”

This meseemed to hear for answer somewhat farther on than there where I was; wherefore I made me heard yet more that way.

Among the others I saw a shade that was expectant in look, and if one would ask,” how so? “its chin it lifted up after the manner of the blind.

“Spirit,” said I, “that dost subdue thee to mount up; if thou art that one who answered me, make thyself known to me by place or by name.”

“I was a Sienese,” it answered, “and with these others here do cleanse my sinful life, weeping unto Him that he lend himself to us.

Sapient was I not albeit Sapia I was named, and of others’ hurt I was far more glad than of mine own good fortune.

And that thou mayst not think I deceive thee, hear if I was mad as I tell thee. Already when the arc of my years was descending,

my townsmen, hard by Colle, were joined in battle with their foes, and I prayed God for that which he had willed.

There were they routed, and rolled back in the bitter steps of flight, and seeing the chase I took joy exceeding all other;

so much, that I lifted up my impudent face, crying to God: ‘Now I fear thee no more,’ as the blackbird doth for a little fair weather.

I would have peace with God on the brink of my life; and my debt were not yet reduced by penitence,

had it not been that Peter the Combseller remembered me in his holy prayers, who in his charity did grieve for me.

But who art thou that goest asking of our state, and bearest thine eyes unsewn, as I believe, and breathing dost speak?”

“Mine eyes,” said I, “from me here shall yet be taken; but for short time, for small is the offence they did through being turned in envy.

Greater far is the fear wherewith my soul is suspended, of the torment below, for even now the burden down there weighs upon me.”

And she to me: “Who then hath led thee up here among us, if thou thinkest to return below?” And I: “He who is with me and saith no word;

and I am living, and therefore do thou ask of me, spirit elect, if thou wouldst that yonder I lift yet for thee my mortal feet.”

“Oh this is so new a thing to hear,” she answered, “that ’tis a great token that God loveth thee; therefore profit me sometimes with thy prayers.

And I beseech thee by all thou most desirest, if e’er thou tread the land of Tuscany, that thou restore my fame among my kinsfolk.

Thou wilt see them among that vain people who put their trust in Talamone, and will lose there more hopes than in finding the Diana; but the admirals shall lose most there.”