Purgatory Canto 10
Canto X
Argument
Being admitted at the gate of Purgatory, our Poets ascend a winding path up the rock, till they reach an open and level space that extends each way round the mountain. On the side that rises, and which is of white marble, are seen artfully engraven many stories of humility, which whilst they are contemplating, there approach the souls of those who expiate the sin of pride, and who are bent down beneath the weight of heavy stones.
When we had passed the threshold of the gate, (Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse, Making the crooked seem the straighter path,)
I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn'd, For that offence what plea might have avail'd?
We mounted up the riven rock, that wound On either side alternate, as the wave Flies and advances. "Here some little art Behoves us," said my leader, "that our steps Observe the varying flexure of the path."
Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb The moon once more o'erhangs her watery couch, Ere we that strait have threaded. But when free, We came, and open, where the mount above One solid mass retires; I spent with toil, And both uncertain of the way, we stood, Upon a plain more lonesome than the roads That traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink Borders upon vacuity, to foot Of the steep bank that rises still, the space Had measured thrice the stature of a man: And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight, To leftward now and now to right despatch'd, That cornice equal in extent appear'd.
Not yet our feet had on that summit moved, When I discover'd that the bank, around, Whose proud uprising all ascent denied, Was marble white; and so exactly wrought With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone Had Polycletus, but e'en nature's self Been shamed. The Angel (who came down to earth With tidings of the peace so many years Wept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates From their long interdict) before us seem'd, In a sweet act, so sculptured to the life, He look'd no silent image. One had sworn He had said "Hail!" for she was imaged there, By whom the key did open to God's love;
And in her act as sensibly imprest That word, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord,"
As figure seal'd on wax. "Fix not thy mind On one place only," said the guide beloved, Who had me near him on that part where lies The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn'd, And mark'd, behind the Virgin Mother's form, Upon that side where he that moved me stood, Another story graven on the rock.
I past athwart the bard, and drew me near, That it might stand more aptly for my view.
There, in the self - same marble, were engraved The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark, That from unbidden office awes mankind.
Before it came much people; and the whole Parted in seven quires. One sense cried "Nay,"
Another, "Yes, they sing." Like doubt arose Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fume Of incense breathing up the well - wrought toil.
Preceding the blest vessel, onward came With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise, Israel's sweet harper: in that hap he seem'd Less, and yet more, than kingly. Opposite At a great palace, from the lattice forth Look'd Michol, like a lady full of scorn And sorrow. To behold the tablet next, Which, at the back of Michol, whitely shone, I moved me. There, was storied on the rock The exalted glory of the Roman prince, Whose mighty worth moved Gregory to earn His mighty conquest, Trajan the Emperor.
A widow at his bridle stood, attired In tears and mourning. Round about them troop'd Full throng of knights; and overhead in gold The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.
The wretch appear'd amid all these to say:
"Grant vengeance, Sire! for, woe beshrew this heart, My son is murder'd." He replying seem'd:
"Wait now till I return." And she, as one Made hasty by her grief: "O Sire! if thou Dost not return?" - "Where I am, who then is, May right thee." - "What to thee is other's good, If thou neglect thy own?" - "Now comfort thee;"
At length he answers. "It beseemeth well My duty be perform'd, ere I move hence: So justice wills; and pity bids me stay."
[1: "Gregory." St. Gregory's prayers are said to have delivered Trajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto xx. 40.]
He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produced That visible speaking, new to us and strange, The like not found on earth. Fondly I gazed Upon those patterns of meek humbleness, Shapes yet more precious for their artist's sake;
When "Lo!" the poet whisper'd, "where this way (But slack their pace) a multitude advance, These to the lofty steps shall guide us on."
Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights, Their loved allurement, were not slow to turn.
Reader! I would not that amazed thou miss Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God Decrees our debts be cancel'd. Ponder not The form of suffering. Think on what succeeds: Think that, at worst, beyond the mighty doom It cannot pass. "Instructor!" I began,
"What I see hither tending, bears no trace Of human semblance, nor of aught beside
That my foil'd sight can guess." He answering thus:
"So curb'd to earth, beneath their heavy terms Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first Struggled as thine. But look intently thither;
And disentangle with thy laboring view, What, underneath those stones, approacheth: now, E'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each."
Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!
That, feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust Upon unstaid perverseness: know ye not That we are worms, yet made at last to form The winged insect, imp'd with angel plumes, That to Heaven's justice unobstructed soars?
Why buoy ye up aloft your unfledged souls?
Abortive then and shapeless ye remain, Like the untimely embryon of a worm.
[2: "The winged insect." The butterfly was an ancient and well - known symbol of the human soul.]
As, to support incumbent floor or roof, For corbel, is a figure sometimes seen, That crumples up its knees unto its breast;
With the feign'd posture, stirring ruth unfeign'd In the beholder's fancy; so I saw These fashion'd, when I noted well their guise.
Each, as his back was laden, came indeed Or more or less contracted; and it seem'd As he, who show'd most patience in his look, Wailing exclaim'd: "I can endure no more."
Argument
Being admitted at the gate of Purgatory, our Poets ascend a winding path up the rock, till they reach an open and level space that extends each way round the mountain. On the side that rises, and which is of white marble, are seen artfully engraven many stories of humility, which whilst they are contemplating, there approach the souls of those who expiate the sin of pride, and who are bent down beneath the weight of heavy stones.
When we had passed the threshold of the gate, (Which the soul's ill affection doth disuse, Making the crooked seem the straighter path,)
I heard its closing sound. Had mine eyes turn'd, For that offence what plea might have avail'd?
We mounted up the riven rock, that wound On either side alternate, as the wave Flies and advances. "Here some little art Behoves us," said my leader, "that our steps Observe the varying flexure of the path."
Thus we so slowly sped, that with cleft orb The moon once more o'erhangs her watery couch, Ere we that strait have threaded. But when free, We came, and open, where the mount above One solid mass retires; I spent with toil, And both uncertain of the way, we stood, Upon a plain more lonesome than the roads That traverse desert wilds. From whence the brink Borders upon vacuity, to foot Of the steep bank that rises still, the space Had measured thrice the stature of a man: And, distant as mine eye could wing its flight, To leftward now and now to right despatch'd, That cornice equal in extent appear'd.
Not yet our feet had on that summit moved, When I discover'd that the bank, around, Whose proud uprising all ascent denied, Was marble white; and so exactly wrought With quaintest sculpture, that not there alone Had Polycletus, but e'en nature's self Been shamed. The Angel (who came down to earth With tidings of the peace so many years Wept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates From their long interdict) before us seem'd, In a sweet act, so sculptured to the life, He look'd no silent image. One had sworn He had said "Hail!" for she was imaged there, By whom the key did open to God's love;
And in her act as sensibly imprest That word, "Behold the handmaid of the Lord,"
As figure seal'd on wax. "Fix not thy mind On one place only," said the guide beloved, Who had me near him on that part where lies The heart of man. My sight forthwith I turn'd, And mark'd, behind the Virgin Mother's form, Upon that side where he that moved me stood, Another story graven on the rock.
I past athwart the bard, and drew me near, That it might stand more aptly for my view.
There, in the self - same marble, were engraved The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark, That from unbidden office awes mankind.
Before it came much people; and the whole Parted in seven quires. One sense cried "Nay,"
Another, "Yes, they sing." Like doubt arose Betwixt the eye and smell, from the curl'd fume Of incense breathing up the well - wrought toil.
Preceding the blest vessel, onward came With light dance leaping, girt in humble guise, Israel's sweet harper: in that hap he seem'd Less, and yet more, than kingly. Opposite At a great palace, from the lattice forth Look'd Michol, like a lady full of scorn And sorrow. To behold the tablet next, Which, at the back of Michol, whitely shone, I moved me. There, was storied on the rock The exalted glory of the Roman prince, Whose mighty worth moved Gregory to earn His mighty conquest, Trajan the Emperor.
A widow at his bridle stood, attired In tears and mourning. Round about them troop'd Full throng of knights; and overhead in gold The eagles floated, struggling with the wind.
The wretch appear'd amid all these to say:
"Grant vengeance, Sire! for, woe beshrew this heart, My son is murder'd." He replying seem'd:
"Wait now till I return." And she, as one Made hasty by her grief: "O Sire! if thou Dost not return?" - "Where I am, who then is, May right thee." - "What to thee is other's good, If thou neglect thy own?" - "Now comfort thee;"
At length he answers. "It beseemeth well My duty be perform'd, ere I move hence: So justice wills; and pity bids me stay."
[1: "Gregory." St. Gregory's prayers are said to have delivered Trajan from hell. See Paradise, Canto xx. 40.]
He, whose ken nothing new surveys, produced That visible speaking, new to us and strange, The like not found on earth. Fondly I gazed Upon those patterns of meek humbleness, Shapes yet more precious for their artist's sake;
When "Lo!" the poet whisper'd, "where this way (But slack their pace) a multitude advance, These to the lofty steps shall guide us on."
Mine eyes, though bent on view of novel sights, Their loved allurement, were not slow to turn.
Reader! I would not that amazed thou miss Of thy good purpose, hearing how just God Decrees our debts be cancel'd. Ponder not The form of suffering. Think on what succeeds: Think that, at worst, beyond the mighty doom It cannot pass. "Instructor!" I began,
"What I see hither tending, bears no trace Of human semblance, nor of aught beside
That my foil'd sight can guess." He answering thus:
"So curb'd to earth, beneath their heavy terms Of torment stoop they, that mine eye at first Struggled as thine. But look intently thither;
And disentangle with thy laboring view, What, underneath those stones, approacheth: now, E'en now, mayst thou discern the pangs of each."
Christians and proud! O poor and wretched ones!
That, feeble in the mind's eye, lean your trust Upon unstaid perverseness: know ye not That we are worms, yet made at last to form The winged insect, imp'd with angel plumes, That to Heaven's justice unobstructed soars?
Why buoy ye up aloft your unfledged souls?
Abortive then and shapeless ye remain, Like the untimely embryon of a worm.
[2: "The winged insect." The butterfly was an ancient and well - known symbol of the human soul.]
As, to support incumbent floor or roof, For corbel, is a figure sometimes seen, That crumples up its knees unto its breast;
With the feign'd posture, stirring ruth unfeign'd In the beholder's fancy; so I saw These fashion'd, when I noted well their guise.
Each, as his back was laden, came indeed Or more or less contracted; and it seem'd As he, who show'd most patience in his look, Wailing exclaim'd: "I can endure no more."
