Purgatorio: Canto XVII

Reader, if ever in the mountains a mist hath caught thee, through which thou sawest not otherwise than moles do through the skin, remember

how, when the damp and dense vapours begin to melt away, the sphere of the sun enters feebly through them:

and thy fancy will lightly come to see how first I beheld the sun again, that now was at the setting.

So, measuring mine with the trusty steps of my Master, I issued forth from such a cloud, to the rays already dead on the low shores.

O fantasy, that at times dost so snatch us out of ourselves that we are conscious of naught, even though a thousand trumpets sound about us,

who moves thee, if the senses set naught before thee? A light moves thee which takes its form in heaven, of itself, or by a will that sendeth it down.

The traces of her impiety, who changed her form into the bird that most delights to sing, appeared in my fancy;

and here my mind was so restrained within itself, that from outside came naught which was then received by it.

Then fell within my lofty fantasy one crucified, scornful and fierce in mien, and even so was he dying.

Round about him were the great Ahasuerus, Esther his wife, and the just Mordecai, who in speech and deed was so sincere.

And as this fancy broke of itself, after the fashion of a bubble to which the water fails wherein it was made,

there arose in my vision a maiden weeping sorely, and she was saying: “O Queen, wherefore through wrath hast thou willed to be naught?

Thou hast slain thee not to lose Lavinia; now me hast thou lost; I am she that mourn, mother, for thy ruin rather than for another’s.”

As sleep is broken when on a sudden new light strikes on the closed eyes, and being broken, quivers ere it wholly dies away;

so my imagination fell down soon as a light smote on my face, greater far than that which is in our use.

I turned me to see where I was, when a voice which removed me from every other intent, said: “Here one ascends”;

and it gave my desire to behold who it was that spake, such eagerness as never rests until it sees face to face.

But, as at the sun which oppresses our sight, and veils his form by excess, so my virtue there was failing me.

“This is a divine spirit, that directs us to the way of ascent without our prayer, and conceals itself with its own light.

It doeth unto us as a man doth unto himself; for he who awaits the prayer and sees the need, already sets him unkindly towards denial.

Now accord we our feet to such an invitation; strive we to ascend ere the night cometh, for then we could not until the day return.”

Thus spake my Leader, and I with him did turn our footsteps to a stairway; and soon as I was at the first step,

near me I felt as ’twere the stroke of a wing, and my face fanned, and heard one say: “Beati pacifici who are without evil wrath.”

Now were the last rays whereafter night followeth so far risen above us that the stars were appearing on many sides.

“O my virtue, wherefore dost thou pass away from me thus?” I said within me, for I felt the power of my legs put in truce.

We stood where the stairway ascended no higher, and were fixed even as a ship which arrives on the shore:

and I gave heed awhile if I might hear aught in the new circle; then did turn me to my Master and said:

“Sweet my Father, tell, what offence is purged here in the circle where we are? If our feet are stayed, stay not thy discourse.”

And he to me: “The love of good scant of its duty, just here restores itself; here is plied again the ill-slackened oar.

But that thou mayest understand yet more plainly, turn thy mind to me, and thou shalt take some good fruit from our tarrying.”

He began: “Nor Creator, nor creature, my son, was ever without love, either natural or rational; and this thou knowest.

The natural is always without error; but the other may err through an evil object, or through too little or too much vigour.

While it is directed to the primal goods, and in the secondary, moderates itself, it cannot be the cause of sinful delight;

but when it is turned awry to evil, or speeds towards the good with more or less care than it ought, against the Creator his creature works.

Hence thou mayst understand that love must be the seed of every virtue in you, and of every deed that deserves punishment.

Now inasmuch as love can never turn its face from the weal of its subject, all things are safe from self-hatred;

and because no being can be conceived as existing alone in isolation from the Prime Being, every affection is cut off from hate of him.

It follows, if I judge well in my division, that the evil we love is our neighbour’s, and this love arises in three ways in your clay.

There is he who through his neighbour’s abasement hopes to excel, and solely for this desires that he be cast down from his greatness;

there is he who fears to lose power, favour, honour and fame because another is exalted, wherefore he groweth sad so that he loves the contrary;

and there is he who seems to be so shamed through being wronged, that he becomes greedy of vengeance, and such must needs seek another’s hurt.

This threefold love down below is mourned for: now I desire that thou understand of the other, which hastes toward good in faulty degree.

Each one apprehends vaguely a good wherein the mind may find rest, and desires it; wherefore each one strives to attain thereto.

If lukewarm love draw you towards the vision of it or the gaining of it, this cornice, after due penitence, torments you for it.

Another good there is, which maketh not men happy; ’tis not happiness, ’tis not the good essence, the fruit and root of all good.

The love that abandons itself too much to this, is mourned for above us in three circles: but how it is distinguished in three divisions, I do not say, in order that thou search for it of thyself.”