Purgatory Canto 17
Canto XVII
Argument
The Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy represents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This imagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them onward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference is purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of love, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the soul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either in respect of object or of degree.
Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er Hast on an Alpine height been ta'en by cloud, Through which thou saw'st no better than the mole Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene'er The watery vapours dense began to melt Into thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere Seem'd wading through them: so thy nimble thought May image, how at first I rebeheld The sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.
Thus, with my leader's feet still equaling pace, From forth that could I came, when now expired
The parting beams from off the nether shores.
O quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark Though round about us thousand trumpets clang;
What moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light Moves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self - inform'd;
Or, likelier, gliding down with swift illapse By will divine. Portray'd before me came The traces of her dire impiety, Whose form was changed into the bird, that most Delights itself in song: and here my mind Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place To aught that ask'd admittance from without.
Next shower'd into my fantasy a shape As of one crucified, whose visage spake Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;
And round him Ahasuerus the great king;
Esther his bride; and Mordecai the just, Blameless in word and deed. As of itself That unsubstantial coinage of the brain Burst, like a bubble, when the water fails That fed it; in my vision straight uprose A damsel weeping loud, and cried, "O queen!
O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire Driven thee to loathe thy being? Not to lose Lavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.
Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears Mourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end."
[1: I cannot think, with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant.
Dante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer's
"Odyssey," b. xix. 518. Philomela intended to slay the son of her husband's brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.]
[2: Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief and indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself.]
E'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly New radiance strikes upon the closed lids, The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;
Thus, from before me, sunk that imagery, Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck The light, outshining far our earthly beam.
As round I turn'd me to survey what place I had arrived at, "Here ye mount": exclaim'd A voice, that other purpose left me none Save will so eager to behold who spake, I could not chuse but gaze. As 'fore the sun, That weighs our vision down, and veils his form In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'd Unequal. "This is Spirit from above, Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;
And in his own light shrouds him. As a man Doth for himself, so now is done for us.
For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepared For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.
Refuse we not to lend a ready foot At such inviting: haste we to ascend, Before it darken: for we may not then, Till morn again return." So spake my guide;
And to one ladder both address'd our steps;
And the first stair approaching, I perceived Near me as't were the waving of a wing, That fann'd my face, and whisper'd: "Blessed they, The peace - makers: they know not evil wrath."
Now to such height above our heads were raised The last beams, follow'd close by hooded night, That many a star on all sides through the gloom Shone out. "Why partest from me, O my strength?"
So with myself I communed; for I felt My o'ertoil'd sinews slacken. We had reach'd The summit, and were fix'd like to a bark Arrived at land. And waiting a short space, If aught should meet mine ear in that new round, Then to my guide I turn'd, and said: "Loved sire!
Declare what guilt is on this circle purged.
If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause."
He thus to me: "The love of good, whate'er Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.
Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.
But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand, Give ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.
"Creator, nor created being, e'er, My son," he thus began, "was without love, Or natural, or the free spirit's growth, Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still Is without error: but the other swerves, If on ill object bent, or through excess Of vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks The primal blessings, or with measure due The inferior, no delight, that flows from it, Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil, Or with more ardour than behoves, or less, Pursue the good; the thing created then Works 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer That love is germin of each virtue in ye, And of each act no less, that merits pain.
Now since it may not be, but love intend The welfare mainly of the thing it loves, All from self - hatred are secure; and since No being can be thought to exist apart, And independent of the first, a bar Of equal force restrains from hating that.
[3: "The primal blessings." Spiritual good.]
[4: \"The inferior." Temporal good.]
[5: \"Now. It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself, or to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore rejoice only in the evil which befalls others."]
"Grant the distinction just; and it remains The evil must be another's, which is loved.
Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.
There is who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest)
Pre - eminence himself; and covets hence, For his own greatness, that another fall.
There is who so much fears the loss of power, Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount Above him), and so sickens at the thought, He loves their opposite: and there is he, Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame, That he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needs Must dote on other's evil. Here beneath,
[6: "There is." The proud.]
[7: There is." The envious.]
[8: \"There is he." The resentful.]
This threefold love is mourn'd. Of the other sort Be now instructed; that which follows good, But with disorder'd and irregular course.
"All indistinctly apprehend a bliss, On which the soul may rest; the hearts of all Yearn after it; and to that wished bourn All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold, Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax;
This cornice, after just repenting, lays Its penal torment on ye. Other good There is, where man finds not his happiness: It is not true fruition; not that blest Essence, of every good the branch and root.
The love too lavishly bestow'd on this, Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.
Account of that division tripartite Expect not, fitter for thine own research."
Argument
The Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy represents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This imagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them onward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference is purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of love, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the soul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either in respect of object or of degree.
Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er Hast on an Alpine height been ta'en by cloud, Through which thou saw'st no better than the mole Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene'er The watery vapours dense began to melt Into thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere Seem'd wading through them: so thy nimble thought May image, how at first I rebeheld The sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.
Thus, with my leader's feet still equaling pace, From forth that could I came, when now expired
The parting beams from off the nether shores.
O quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark Though round about us thousand trumpets clang;
What moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light Moves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self - inform'd;
Or, likelier, gliding down with swift illapse By will divine. Portray'd before me came The traces of her dire impiety, Whose form was changed into the bird, that most Delights itself in song: and here my mind Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place To aught that ask'd admittance from without.
Next shower'd into my fantasy a shape As of one crucified, whose visage spake Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;
And round him Ahasuerus the great king;
Esther his bride; and Mordecai the just, Blameless in word and deed. As of itself That unsubstantial coinage of the brain Burst, like a bubble, when the water fails That fed it; in my vision straight uprose A damsel weeping loud, and cried, "O queen!
O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire Driven thee to loathe thy being? Not to lose Lavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.
Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears Mourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end."
[1: I cannot think, with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant.
Dante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer's
"Odyssey," b. xix. 518. Philomela intended to slay the son of her husband's brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children, while herself had only two, but through mistake slew her own son Itylus, and for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.]
[2: Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief and indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself.]
E'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly New radiance strikes upon the closed lids, The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;
Thus, from before me, sunk that imagery, Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck The light, outshining far our earthly beam.
As round I turn'd me to survey what place I had arrived at, "Here ye mount": exclaim'd A voice, that other purpose left me none Save will so eager to behold who spake, I could not chuse but gaze. As 'fore the sun, That weighs our vision down, and veils his form In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'd Unequal. "This is Spirit from above, Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;
And in his own light shrouds him. As a man Doth for himself, so now is done for us.
For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepared For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.
Refuse we not to lend a ready foot At such inviting: haste we to ascend, Before it darken: for we may not then, Till morn again return." So spake my guide;
And to one ladder both address'd our steps;
And the first stair approaching, I perceived Near me as't were the waving of a wing, That fann'd my face, and whisper'd: "Blessed they, The peace - makers: they know not evil wrath."
Now to such height above our heads were raised The last beams, follow'd close by hooded night, That many a star on all sides through the gloom Shone out. "Why partest from me, O my strength?"
So with myself I communed; for I felt My o'ertoil'd sinews slacken. We had reach'd The summit, and were fix'd like to a bark Arrived at land. And waiting a short space, If aught should meet mine ear in that new round, Then to my guide I turn'd, and said: "Loved sire!
Declare what guilt is on this circle purged.
If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause."
He thus to me: "The love of good, whate'er Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.
Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.
But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand, Give ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.
"Creator, nor created being, e'er, My son," he thus began, "was without love, Or natural, or the free spirit's growth, Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still Is without error: but the other swerves, If on ill object bent, or through excess Of vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks The primal blessings, or with measure due The inferior, no delight, that flows from it, Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil, Or with more ardour than behoves, or less, Pursue the good; the thing created then Works 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer That love is germin of each virtue in ye, And of each act no less, that merits pain.
Now since it may not be, but love intend The welfare mainly of the thing it loves, All from self - hatred are secure; and since No being can be thought to exist apart, And independent of the first, a bar Of equal force restrains from hating that.
[3: "The primal blessings." Spiritual good.]
[4: \"The inferior." Temporal good.]
[5: \"Now. It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself, or to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore rejoice only in the evil which befalls others."]
"Grant the distinction just; and it remains The evil must be another's, which is loved.
Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.
There is who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest)
Pre - eminence himself; and covets hence, For his own greatness, that another fall.
There is who so much fears the loss of power, Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount Above him), and so sickens at the thought, He loves their opposite: and there is he, Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame, That he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needs Must dote on other's evil. Here beneath,
[6: "There is." The proud.]
[7: There is." The envious.]
[8: \"There is he." The resentful.]
This threefold love is mourn'd. Of the other sort Be now instructed; that which follows good, But with disorder'd and irregular course.
"All indistinctly apprehend a bliss, On which the soul may rest; the hearts of all Yearn after it; and to that wished bourn All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold, Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax;
This cornice, after just repenting, lays Its penal torment on ye. Other good There is, where man finds not his happiness: It is not true fruition; not that blest Essence, of every good the branch and root.
The love too lavishly bestow'd on this, Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.
Account of that division tripartite Expect not, fitter for thine own research."
