Purgatory Canto 30
Canto XXX
Argument
Beatrice descends from Heaven, and rebukes the Poet.
Soon as that polar light, fair ornament Of the first Heaven, which hath never known Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil Of other cloud than sin, to duty there Each one convoying, as that lower doth The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix'd;
Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van Between the Gryphon and its radiance came, Did turn them to the car, as to their rest: And one, as if commission'd from above, In holy chant thrice shouted forth aloud;
"Come, spouse! from Libanus:" and all the rest Took up the song. - At the last audit, so The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each Uplifting lightly his new - vested flesh;
As, on the sacred litter, at the voice Authoritative of that elder, sprang A hundred ministers and messengers Of life eternal. "Blessed thou, who comest!"
And, "Oh!" they cried, "from full hands scatter ye Unwithering lilies": and, so saying, cast Flowers overhead and round them on all sides.
[1: The seven candlesticks of gold, which he calls the polar light of Heaven itself, because they perform the same office for Christians that the polar star does for mariners, in guiding them to their port.]
[2: \"Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me, from Lebanon." -
Song of Solomon, iv. 8.]
[3: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." - Matt. xxi.
9.]
I have beheld, ere now, at break of day, The eastern clime all roseate; and the sky Opposed, one deep and beautiful serene;
And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists Attemper'd, at his rising, that the eye Long while endured the sight: thus, in a cloud Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose, And down within and outside of the car Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreathed, A virgin in my view appear'd, beneath
Green mantle, robed in hue of living flame: And o'er my spirit, that so long a time Had from her presence felt no shuddering dread, Albeit mine eyes discern'd her not, there moved A hidden virtue from her, at whose touch The power of ancient love was strong within me.
No sooner on my vision streaming, smote The heavenly influence, which, years past, and e'en In childhood, thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I Turn'd me to leftward; panting, like a babe, That flees for refuge to his mother's breast, If aught have terrified or work'd him woe: And would have cried, "There is no dram of blood, That doth not quiver in me. The old flame Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire."
But Virgil had bereaved us of himself;
Virgil, my best - loved father, Virgil, he To whom I gave me up for safety: nor All, our prime mother lost, avail'd to save My undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears.
"Dante! weep not that Virgil leaves thee; nay, Weep thou not yet: behoves thee feel the edge Of other sword; and thou shalt weep for that."
As to the prow or stern, some admiral Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew, When 'mid the sail - yards all hands ply aloof;
Thus, on the left side of the car, I saw (Turning me at the sound of mine own name, Which here I am compell'd to register)
The virgin station'd, who before appear'd Veil'd in that festive shower angelical.
Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound With foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not That I beheld her clearly: then with act Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall, Added, as one who, speaking, keepeth back The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign'd at last Approach the mountain? Knewest not, O man!
Thy happiness is here?" Down fell mine eyes On the clear fount; but there, myself espying, Recoil'd, and sought the greensward; such a weight Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien Of that stern majesty, which doth surround A mother's presence to her awe - struck child, She look'd; a flavor of such bitterness Was mingled in her pity. There her words Brake off; and suddenly the angels sang,
"In thee, O gracious Lord! my hope hath been":
But went no further than, "Thou, Lord! hast set My feet in ample room" As snow, that lies, Amidst the living rafters on the back Of Italy, congeal'd, when drifted high And closely piled by rough Sclavonian blasts;
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls, And straightway melting it distills away, Like a fire - wasted taper: thus was I, Without a sigh or tear, or everithese Did sing, that, with the chiming of Heaven's sphere, Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain Of dulcet symphony express'd for me Their soft compassion, more than could the words,
"Virgin! why so consumest him?" then, the ice Congeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself To spirit and water; and with anguish forth Gush'd, through the lips and eyelids, from the heart.
[4: "But." They sang the thirty - first Psalm, to the end of the eighth verse. What follows would not have suited the place or the occasion.]
Upon the chariot's same edge still she stood, Immovable; and thus address'd her words To those bright semblances with pity touch'd:
"Ye in the eternal day your vigils keep;
So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth, Conveys from you a single step, in all The goings on of time: thence, with more heed I shape mine answer, for his ear intended, Who there stands weeping; that the sorrow now May equal the transgression. Not alone
Through operation of the mighty orbs, That mark each seed to some predestined aim, As with aspect or fortunate or ill The constellations meet; but through benign Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down From such a height as mocks our vision, this man Was, in the freshness of his being, such, So gifted virtually, that in him All better habits wondrously had thrived The more of kindly strength is in the soil, So much doth evil seed and lack of culture Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
These looks sometime upheld him; for I show'd My youthful eyes, and led him by their light In upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd Tee threshold of my second age, and changed My mortal for immortal; then he left me, And gave himself to others. When from flesh To spirit I had risen, and increase Of beauty and of virtue circled me, I was less dear to him, and valued less.
His steps were turn'd into deceitful ways, Following false images of good, that make No promise perfect. Nor avail'd me aught To sue for inspirations, with the which, I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise, Did call him back; of them, so little reck'd him.
Such depth he fell, that all device was short Of his preserving, save that he should view The children of perdition. To this end I visited the purlieus of the dead: And one, who hath conducted him thus high, Received my supplications urged with weeping.
It were a breaking of God's high decree, If Lethe should be pass'd, and such food tasted, Without the cost of some repentant tear."
[5: The oblivion of sins.]
Argument
Beatrice descends from Heaven, and rebukes the Poet.
Soon as that polar light, fair ornament Of the first Heaven, which hath never known Setting nor rising, nor the shadowy veil Of other cloud than sin, to duty there Each one convoying, as that lower doth The steersman to his port, stood firmly fix'd;
Forthwith the saintly tribe, who in the van Between the Gryphon and its radiance came, Did turn them to the car, as to their rest: And one, as if commission'd from above, In holy chant thrice shouted forth aloud;
"Come, spouse! from Libanus:" and all the rest Took up the song. - At the last audit, so The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each Uplifting lightly his new - vested flesh;
As, on the sacred litter, at the voice Authoritative of that elder, sprang A hundred ministers and messengers Of life eternal. "Blessed thou, who comest!"
And, "Oh!" they cried, "from full hands scatter ye Unwithering lilies": and, so saying, cast Flowers overhead and round them on all sides.
[1: The seven candlesticks of gold, which he calls the polar light of Heaven itself, because they perform the same office for Christians that the polar star does for mariners, in guiding them to their port.]
[2: \"Come with me from Lebanon, my spouse, with me, from Lebanon." -
Song of Solomon, iv. 8.]
[3: Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord." - Matt. xxi.
9.]
I have beheld, ere now, at break of day, The eastern clime all roseate; and the sky Opposed, one deep and beautiful serene;
And the sun's face so shaded, and with mists Attemper'd, at his rising, that the eye Long while endured the sight: thus, in a cloud Of flowers, that from those hands angelic rose, And down within and outside of the car Fell showering, in white veil with olive wreathed, A virgin in my view appear'd, beneath
Green mantle, robed in hue of living flame: And o'er my spirit, that so long a time Had from her presence felt no shuddering dread, Albeit mine eyes discern'd her not, there moved A hidden virtue from her, at whose touch The power of ancient love was strong within me.
No sooner on my vision streaming, smote The heavenly influence, which, years past, and e'en In childhood, thrill'd me, than towards Virgil I Turn'd me to leftward; panting, like a babe, That flees for refuge to his mother's breast, If aught have terrified or work'd him woe: And would have cried, "There is no dram of blood, That doth not quiver in me. The old flame Throws out clear tokens of reviving fire."
But Virgil had bereaved us of himself;
Virgil, my best - loved father, Virgil, he To whom I gave me up for safety: nor All, our prime mother lost, avail'd to save My undew'd cheeks from blur of soiling tears.
"Dante! weep not that Virgil leaves thee; nay, Weep thou not yet: behoves thee feel the edge Of other sword; and thou shalt weep for that."
As to the prow or stern, some admiral Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew, When 'mid the sail - yards all hands ply aloof;
Thus, on the left side of the car, I saw (Turning me at the sound of mine own name, Which here I am compell'd to register)
The virgin station'd, who before appear'd Veil'd in that festive shower angelical.
Towards me, across the stream, she bent her eyes;
Though from her brow the veil descending, bound With foliage of Minerva, suffer'd not That I beheld her clearly: then with act Full royal, still insulting o'er her thrall, Added, as one who, speaking, keepeth back The bitterest saying, to conclude the speech:
"Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am Beatrice. What! and hast thou deign'd at last Approach the mountain? Knewest not, O man!
Thy happiness is here?" Down fell mine eyes On the clear fount; but there, myself espying, Recoil'd, and sought the greensward; such a weight Of shame was on my forehead. With a mien Of that stern majesty, which doth surround A mother's presence to her awe - struck child, She look'd; a flavor of such bitterness Was mingled in her pity. There her words Brake off; and suddenly the angels sang,
"In thee, O gracious Lord! my hope hath been":
But went no further than, "Thou, Lord! hast set My feet in ample room" As snow, that lies, Amidst the living rafters on the back Of Italy, congeal'd, when drifted high And closely piled by rough Sclavonian blasts;
Breathe but the land whereon no shadow falls, And straightway melting it distills away, Like a fire - wasted taper: thus was I, Without a sigh or tear, or everithese Did sing, that, with the chiming of Heaven's sphere, Still in their warbling chime: but when the strain Of dulcet symphony express'd for me Their soft compassion, more than could the words,
"Virgin! why so consumest him?" then, the ice Congeal'd about my bosom, turn'd itself To spirit and water; and with anguish forth Gush'd, through the lips and eyelids, from the heart.
[4: "But." They sang the thirty - first Psalm, to the end of the eighth verse. What follows would not have suited the place or the occasion.]
Upon the chariot's same edge still she stood, Immovable; and thus address'd her words To those bright semblances with pity touch'd:
"Ye in the eternal day your vigils keep;
So that nor night nor slumber, with close stealth, Conveys from you a single step, in all The goings on of time: thence, with more heed I shape mine answer, for his ear intended, Who there stands weeping; that the sorrow now May equal the transgression. Not alone
Through operation of the mighty orbs, That mark each seed to some predestined aim, As with aspect or fortunate or ill The constellations meet; but through benign Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down From such a height as mocks our vision, this man Was, in the freshness of his being, such, So gifted virtually, that in him All better habits wondrously had thrived The more of kindly strength is in the soil, So much doth evil seed and lack of culture Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness.
These looks sometime upheld him; for I show'd My youthful eyes, and led him by their light In upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd Tee threshold of my second age, and changed My mortal for immortal; then he left me, And gave himself to others. When from flesh To spirit I had risen, and increase Of beauty and of virtue circled me, I was less dear to him, and valued less.
His steps were turn'd into deceitful ways, Following false images of good, that make No promise perfect. Nor avail'd me aught To sue for inspirations, with the which, I, both in dreams of night, and otherwise, Did call him back; of them, so little reck'd him.
Such depth he fell, that all device was short Of his preserving, save that he should view The children of perdition. To this end I visited the purlieus of the dead: And one, who hath conducted him thus high, Received my supplications urged with weeping.
It were a breaking of God's high decree, If Lethe should be pass'd, and such food tasted, Without the cost of some repentant tear."
[5: The oblivion of sins.]
