Purgatorio (23 page)
Authors: Dante
O imagination, which at times so rob us
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of outward things we pay no heed,
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though a thousand trumpets sound around us,
who sets you into motion if the senses offer
nothing? A light, formed in the heavens, moves you
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either of itself or by a will that sends it down.
Of the impious deed of her whose shape was changed
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into the bird that most delights to sing
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a picture formed in my imagination.
At this my mind had so withdrawn into itself
there was no impulse from outside
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that could impinge upon my senses.
Then there rained down into my lofty phantasy
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one fastened to a cross, scornful
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and fierce in looks, and in his death.
With him were Ahasuerus, the great king,
Esther, his wife, and Mordecai the just,
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so upright in his words and deeds.
And when this image broke up of itself,
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just as a bubble does when it floats up
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above the water from which it takes its form,
in my vision there arose a girl.
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She was weeping bitterly, crying: ‘O Queen,
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why, in your anger, have you chosen not to be?
‘Not to lose Lavinia have you killed yourself.
Now you have lost me and I am left to mourn
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your death, mother, before the death of yet another.’
As sleep is broken when a sudden light
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strikes on closed eyes and, broken,
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flickers before it dies,
so my imaginings grew faint within me
as soon as a light, far brighter
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than the light we know, struck my face.
I was turning to discover where I was
when a voice said: ‘Here is your ascent,’
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and drew me away from any other thought.
It raised in me the overwhelming wish—
a wish that cannot rest short of its goal—
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to behold the one who spoke.
But as before the sun, which weighs upon our eyes,
veiling its form in an excess of light,
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so, before him, my power of sight fell short.
‘This divine spirit is directing us
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toward the ascent without our even asking,
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concealed in his own shining.
‘He cares for us as we do for ourselves,
since one who, seeing another’s need, awaits the asking
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maliciously has set his mind upon refusal.
‘We should accept so kind an invitation with our feet,
attempting the ascent before it darkens,
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for then we cannot, until day returns.’
These were my leader’s words, and we together
turned our footsteps toward a stairway.
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As soon as I had reached the lowest step
I sensed beside me something like the motion
of a wing that fanned my face. I heard the words:
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‘
Beati pacifici
, those untouched by sinful wrath.’
Already the sun’s last rays before the night
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were slanting up so high above us
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that stars were showing here and there.
‘O my strength, why do you drain away?’
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I said, but only to myself,
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because I felt my legs had lost their power.
We had reached a point at which the stair
ceased rising higher and we stopped,
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as does a ship that comes to shore.
For a little while I waited to discover
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if my ears could make out sounds in this new circle.
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Then I turned to my master and I said:
‘Sweet father, tell me, what is the offense
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made clean here in this circle that we’ve reached?
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If our feet must rest, do not arrest your words.’
And he: ‘A love of good that falls short
of its duty is here restored, here in this place.
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Here the slackened oar is pulled with greater force.
‘That you may understand more clearly,
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pay close attention. Then you shall pluck
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some good fruit from our stay.’
‘The natural is always without error,
but the other may err in its chosen goal
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or through excessive or deficient vigor.
‘While it is directed to the primal good,
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knowing moderation in its lesser goals,
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it cannot be the cause of wrongful pleasure.
‘But when it bends to evil, or pursues the good
with more or less concern than needed,
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then the creature works against his Maker.
‘From this you surely understand that love
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must be the seed in you of every virtue
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and of every deed that merits punishment.
‘Now, since love cannot avert its face
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from the welfare of its subject,
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all creatures are secure against self-hatred,
‘and since no being can conceive itself
as severed, self-existing, from its Author,
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each creature is cut off from hating Him.
‘It follows, if I’m right in these distinctions,
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that the evil that is loved must be a neighbor’s.
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Three ways this love takes form within your clay.
‘There is the one, hoping to excel by bringing down
his neighbor, who, for that cause alone, longs
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that from his greatness his neighbor be brought low.
‘There is the one who fears the loss of power, favor,
honor, fame—should he be bettered by another.
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This so aggrieves him that he wants to see him fall.
‘And there is the one who thinks himself offended
and hungers after vengeance,
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and he must then contrive another’s harm.
‘All these three forms of love cause weeping down below.
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Now I would have you consider yet another,
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which pursues the good in faulty measure.
‘Everyone can vaguely apprehend some good
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in which the mind may find its peace.
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With desire, each one strives to reach it.
‘If the love that draws you on is laggard
to know or have that peace, this terrace,
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after just remorse, torments you for it.
‘There is another good that fails to make men happy,
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for it is not the essence or true source,
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the root of happiness or its proper fruit.
‘The excessive love which gives itself to that
is mourned above us in three circles.
Exactly how its parts are three I do not say,
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so that you may consider for yourself.’
Virgil’s Digression
(continued)
III. The penitent slothful
