Purgatorio: Canto X

When we were within the threshold of the gate, which the evil love of souls disuses, because it makes the crooked way seem straight,

by the ringing sound I heard it was shut again; and had I turned mine eyes to it what would have been a fitting excuse for the fault?

We climbed through a cleft rock, which was moving on one side and on the other, even as a wave that recedes and approaches.

“Here we must use a little skill,” began my Leader, “in keeping close, now hither now thither, to the side that is receding.”

And this made our steps so scant, that the waning orb of the moon regained its bed to sink again to rest

ere we were forth from that needle’s eye. But when we were free and on the open above, where the mount is set back,

I wearied and both uncertain of our way, we stood still on a level place more solitary than roads through deserts.

From its edge where it borders on the void, to the foot of the high bank which sheer ascends, a human body would measure in thrice;

and so far as mine eye could wing its flight, now on the left now on the right side, such this cornice appeared to me.

Thereon our feet had not yet moved, when I discerned that circling bank (which, being upright, lacked means of ascent,)

to be of pure white marble, and adorned with sculptures so that not only Polycletus, but Nature there would be put to shame.

The angel that came to earth with the decree of peace wept for since many a year, which opened heaven from its long ban,

before us appeared so vividly graven there in gentle mien, that it seemed not an image which is dumb.

One would have sworn that he was saying: Ave; for there she was fashioned who turned the key to open the supreme love.

And in her attitude were imprinted these words, Ecce ancilla Dei, as expressly as a figure is stamped on wax.

“Keep not thy mind only on one place,” said the sweet Master, who had me on that side where folk have the heart;

wherefore I moved my face about, and saw behind Mary, on that side of me where he was who was urging me on,

another story set in the rock, wherefore I crossed by Virgil and drew me nigh, that it might be displayed to mine eyes.

There was graven on the very marble the cart and the oxen drawing the sacred ark, whereby we fear an office not committed to us.

In front appeared people; and the whole divided into seven choirs, to two of my senses, made the one say” no,“the other,” yes, they do sing.“

In like wise, at the smoke of the incense which there was imaged, eyes and nose were made discordant with yes and no.

There went before the blessed vessel the lowly Psalmist, dancing, girt up; and more and less than king was he in that case.

Figured opposite at a window of a great palace was Michal, looking on even as a woman scornful and sad.

I moved my feet from the place where I stood, to scan closely another story which behind Michal shone white before me.

There was storied the high glory of the Roman prince whose worth moved Gregory to his great victory;

of Trajan the emperor I speak; and a poor widow was at his bridle in the attitude of tears and of grief.

Round about him appeared a trampling and throng of horsemen and the eagles in gold above him moved visibly to the wind.

The poor creature among all these seemed to say: “Lord, do me vengeance for my son who is slain, whereby my heart is pierced.”

And he to answer her: “Now wait until I return.” And she, like a person in whom grief is urgent: “My Lord,

if thou do not return?” And he: “One who shall be in my place will do it for thee.” And she: “What to thee will be another’s good deed if thou forget thine own?”

Wherefore he: “Now comfort thee, for needs must I fulfil my duty ere I stir; justice wills and pity holds me back.”

He, who ne’er beheld a new thing, wrought this visible speech, new to us because here it is not found.

While I was rejoicing to look on the images of humilities so great and for their Craftsman’s sake precious to see,

“Lo here,” murmured the Poet, “much people, but few they make their steps; these will send us on to the high stairs.”

Mine eyes, that were intent on gazing to see new things whereof they are fain, were not slow in turning towards him.

I would not, reader, that thou be scared from a good purpose through hearing how God wills that the debt be paid.

Heed not the form of the pain; think what followeth, think that at worst beyond the great judgment it cannot go.

I began: “Master, that which I see moving towards us seems not persons to me, yet I know not what, so wanders my sight.”

And he to me: “The grievous state of their torment doubles them down to earth so that mine eyes at first thereat were at strife.

But look steadily there and disentwine with thy sight what is coming beneath those stones; already thou canst discern how each one beats his breast.”

O ye proud Christians, wretched and weary, who, sick in mental vision, put trust in backward steps,

perceive ye not that we are worms, born to form the angelic butterfly that flieth to judgment without defence?

Why doth your mind soar on high, since ye are as ’twere imperfect insects, even as the grub in which full form is wanting?

As to support ceiling or roof is sometimes seen for corbel a figure joining knees to breast,

which of unreality begetteth real discomfort in him who beholds it; in such wise saw I these when I gave good heed.

True it is that more and less were they contracted, according as they had more or less upon them, and he who had most patience in his bearing, weeping seemed to say: “I can no more.”