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Dante Alighieri (1265–1321). The Divine Comedy.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Purgatory

Canto VIII ARGUMENT.—Two Angels, with flaming swords broken at the points, descend to keep watch over the valley, into which Virgil and Dante entering by desire of Sordello, our Poet meets with joy the spirit of Nino, the judge of Gallura, one who was well known to him. Meantime three exceedingly bright stars appear near the pole, and a serpent creeps subtly into the valley, but flees at hearing the approach of those angelic guards. Lastly, Conrad Malaspina predicts to our Poet his future banishment.

NOW was the hour that wakens fond desire

In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart

Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,

And pilgrim newly on his road with love

Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far,

That seems to mourn for the expiring day:

When I, no longer taking heed to hear,

Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark

One risen from its seat, which with its hand

Audience implored. Both palms it join’d and raised,

Fixing its steadfast gaze toward the east,

As telling God, “I care for naught beside.”

“Te Lucis Ante,” so devoutly then

Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain,

That all my sense in ravishment was lost.

And the rest after, softly and devout,

Follow’d through all the hymn, with upward gaze

Directed to the bright supernal wheels.

Here, reader! for the truth make thine eyes keen:

For of so subtle texture is this veil,

That thou with ease mayst pass it through unmark’d.

I saw that gentle band silently next

Look up, as if in expectation held,

Pale and in lowly guise; and, from on high,

I saw, forth issuing descend beneath,

Two Angels, with two flame-illumined swords,

Broken and mutilated of their points.

Green as the tender leaves but newly born,

Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green

Beaten, they drew behind them, fann’d in air.

A little over us one took his stand;

The other lighted on the opposing hill;

So that the troop were in the midst contain’d.

Well I descried the whiteness on their heads;

But in their visages the dazzled eye

Was lost, as faculty that by too much

Is overpower’d. “From Mary’s bosom both

Are come,” exclaim’d Sordello, “as a guard

Over the vale, ’gainst him who hither tends,

The serpent.” Whence, not knowing by which path

He came, I turn’d me round; and closely press’d,

All frozen, to my leader’s trusted side.

Sordello paused not: “To the valley now

(For it is time) let us descend; and hold

Converse with those great shadows: haply much

Their sight may please ye.” Only three steps down

Methinks I measured, ere I was beneath,

And noted one who look’d as with desire

To know me. Time was now that air grew dim;

Yet not so dim, that, ’twixt his eyes and mine,

It clear’d not up what was conceal’d before.

Mutually toward each other we advanced.

Nino, thou courteous judge! what joy I felt,

When I perceived thou wert not with the bad.

No salutation kind on either part

Was left unsaid. He then inquired: “How long,

Since thou arrived’st at the mountain’s foot,

Over the distant waves?”—“Oh!” answer’d I,

“Through the sad seats of woe this morn I came;

And still in my first life, thus journeying on,

The other strive to gain.” Soon as they heard

My words, he and Sordello backward drew,

As suddenly amazed. To Virgil one,

The other to a spirit turn’d, who near

Was seated, crying: “Conrad! up with speed:

Come, see what of His grace high God hath will’d.”

Then turning round to me: “By that rare mark

Of honour, which thou owest to Him, who hides

So deeply His first cause it hath no ford;

When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves,

Tell my Giovanna, that for me she call

There, where reply to innocence is made.

Her mother, I believe, loves me no more;

Since she has changed the white and wimpled folds,

Which she is doom’d once more with grief to wish.

By her it easily may be perceived,

How long in woman lasts the flame of love,

If sight and touch do not relume it oft.

For her so fair a burial will not make

The viper, which calls Milan to the field,

As had been made by shrill Gallura’s bird.”

He spoke, and in his visage took the stamp

Of that right zeal, which with due temperature

Glows in the bosom. My insatiate eyes

Meanwhile to Heaven had travel’d, even there

Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel

Nearest the axle; when my guide inquired:

“What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?”

I answer’d: “The three torches, with which here

The pole is all on fire.” He then to me:

“The four resplendent stars, thou saw’st this morn,

Are there beneath; and these, risen in their stead.”

While yet he spoke, Sordello to himself

Drew him, and cried: “Lo there our enemy!”

And with his hand pointed that way to look.

Along the side, where barrier none arose

Around the little vale, a serpent lay,

Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food.

Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake

Came on, reverting oft his lifted head;

And, as a beast that smooths its polish’d coat,

Licking his back. I saw not, nor can tell,

How those celestial falcons from their seat

Moved, but in motion each one well described.

Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes,

The serpent fled; and, to their stations, back

The Angels up return’d with equal flight.

The spirit, (who to Nino, when he call’d,

Had come), from viewing me with fixed ken,

Through all that conflict, loosen’d not his sight.

“So may the lamp, which leads thee up on high,

Find, in thy free resolve, of wax so much,

As may suffice thee to the enamel’d height.”

It thus began: “If any certain news

Of Valdimagra and the neighbour part

Thou know’st, tell me, who once was mighty there.

They call’d me Conrad Malaspina; not

That old one, but from him I sprang. The love

I bore my people is now here refined.”

“In your domains,” I answer’d, “ne’er was I.

But, through all Europe, where do those men dwell,

To whom their glory is not manifest?

The fame, that honours your illustrious house,

Proclaims the nobles, and proclaims the land;

So that he knows it, who was never there.

I swear to you, so may my upward route

Prosper, your honoured nation not impairs

The value of her coffer and her sword.

Nature and use give her such privilege,

That while the world is twisted from his course

By a bad head, she only walks aright,

And has the evil way in scorn.” He then:

“Now pass thee on: seven times the tired sun

Revisits not the couch, which with the four feet

The forked Aries covers, ere that kind

Opinion shall be nail’d into thy brain

With stronger nails than other’s speech can drive;

If the sure course of judgment be not stay’d.”