Part 2 — DANTE’S PURGATORIO.

Though round the plain their quick flight scattered them, Bent for that Hill where reason turns our tread,[198] My faithful mate close at my garment’s hem I kept: how could I without him have sped? Who else had o’er that mountain marshalled me? He seemed, methought, as inly touched with shame: O noble conscience, void of stain, to thee How sharp a morsel is the smallest blame! Soon as his feet the hurried movement checked Which every action’s dignity destroys, My mind, till now restrained and circumspect, Expanded with new strength, as ’twere of joy’s. My face I fixed upon that Hill to gaze Towards highest heaven which springeth from the wave. The sun behind me redly flamed; its rays Broke by the shadow which my figure gave. When I perceived before me that the ground Was darkened only by myself, in dread Of being there deserted, I looked round And fronting me in full, my Comfort said: “Why this distrust? believ’st thou not that I Am with thee still, thy leader to the last? ’Tis evening now already where on high My body lies, which once a shadow cast, Buried at Naples, from Brundusium brought. Now, if no shade before me meet thy sight It need wake no more wonder in thy thought Than why one heaven checks not another’s light. Omnipotence to such forms hath assigned The power of suffering torments—cold and heat— But how, reveals not to created kind. He is but mad who hopes this incomplete Reason of ours may track the Infinite way Which of three persons holds the substance one. Rest, human race! contented when you say Simply because: could ye the whole have known No need had been for Mary to have borne; And ye have seen in hopeless longing those Who now to all eternity must mourn Desire for which they vainly sought repose. Of Aristotle and of Plato now I speak, and many others”: he remained Silent at this, and stood with bended brow And troubled look: meantime the Hill we gained. We found the cliff here sloping so steep down That nimblest legs had there been useless quite. The wildest way betwixt Turbìa’s town And Lèrici, the roughest, were a flight Compared with this, of open, easy stairs. “Who knows,” my Master said—and stayed his pace— “Where this Hill slopeth, so that one who wears No wings may climb it?” Then his earnest face Directed closely to the ground as if Making in mind a study of the way. Meantime I gazed up round about the cliff, And on the left hand came to my survey A band of spirits, moving on towards us, That seemed not moving for they came so slow. “Lift up thine eyes”—I to the Master thus— “If of thyself thou art not certain, lo! Yon souls our footsteps may direct perchance.” Thereat he looked, then frankly made reply: “Go we tow’rds them—so gently they advance— And thou, my sweet son! keep thy hope up high.” That people seemed as far, when we had gone A thousand steps, I say, or thereabout, As a good flinger might have cast a stone; When all at once, like one who goes in doubt And stops to look, their moderate march they checked And close to that high bank’s hard masses drew. “O ye peace-parted! O ye spirits elect! Ev’n by that peace which waits for each of you As I believe”—thus Virgil them bespake: “Inform us where this mountain slopeth so That its ascent we may essay to make; For they mourn Time’s loss most, the most who know.” Like lambs that issue from their fold—one—two— Then three at once (the rest all standing shy, With eye and nostril to the ground)—then do Just what the foremost doth, unknowing why, And crowd upon her back if she but stand, Quiet and simple creatures, thus the head I saw move towards us of that happy band, Modest in face, and of a comely tread. Soon as their leaders noticed that the light On my right side lay broken at my feet, So that my shadow reached the rocky height, They stopped and drew a little in retreat. And all the others following, though they knew Not why they did so, did the very same. “Without your question I confess to you That here you see a living human frame: Hence on the ground the sunlight thus is riven: Marvel not at it, but believe ye all Not without virtue by the Most High given This man hath come to scale your Mountain’s wall.” My Master thus, and thus that gracious band: “Turn then and join us, and before us go”: And while some beckoned us with bended hand One called—“Whoe’er thou art there journeying so, Turn! Think—hast ever looked on me before?” I turned and gazed upon the one who spoke. Handsome and blond, he looked high-born, but o’er One brow appeared the severance of a stroke. When I had humbly answered him that ne’er Had I beheld him—“Look!” he said, and high Up on his breast showed me a wound he bare; Then added smilingly, “Manfred am I, The Empress Constance’ grandson: in such name Do I entreat, when back thou shalt have gone, To my fair daughter hie, of whose womb came Sicily’s boast and Aragon’s renown, And tell her this—if aught but truth be said That after two stabs—each of power to kill— I gave my soul back weeping ere it fled To Him who pardoneth of His own free will My sins were horrible: but large embrace Infinite Goodness hath whose arms will ope For every child who turneth back to Grace; And if Cosenza’s bishop, by the Pope Clement set on to hound me to the last, That page of Holy Writ had better read, My bones had still been sheltered from the blast Near Benevento, by the bridge’s head, Under their load of stones: but now without The realm they lie, by Verde’s river—bare— For winds and rains to beat and blow about, Dragged with quench’d candles and with curses there. Yet not by their poor malediction can Souls be so lost but that Eternal Love May be brought back while hope hath life in man. ’Tis true that one who sets himself above The Holy Church, and dies beneath its ban (Even though he had repented at the last), Outside this Mount must unadmitted rove Thirty times longer than the term had been Of his presumptuous contumacy past, Unless good prayers a shorter penance win. See now what power thou hast to make me glad: Report of me to my good Constance bear, How thou saw’st me, and what I’ve told thee add; For much it profits us what they do there.”