Divine Comedy: Purgatory | Page 4

her name thou ask.
Go
therefore now: and with a slender reed
See that thou duly gird him,
and his face
Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence.
For
not with eye, by any cloud obscur'd,
Would it be seemly before him
to come,

Who stands the foremost minister in heaven.
This islet all
around, there far beneath,
Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed

Produces store of reeds. No other plant,
Cover'd with leaves, or
harden'd in its stalk,
There lives, not bending to the water's sway.

After, this way return not; but the sun
Will show you, that now rises,
where to take
The mountain in its easiest ascent."

He disappear'd; and I myself uprais'd
Speechless, and to my guide
retiring close,
Toward him turn'd mine eyes. He thus began;
"My
son! observant thou my steps pursue.
We must retreat to rearward, for
that way
The champain to its low extreme declines."
The dawn had chas'd the matin hour of prime,
Which deaf before it,
so that from afar
I spy'd the trembling of the ocean stream.
We travers'd the deserted plain, as one
Who, wander'd from his track,
thinks every step
Trodden in vain till he regain the path.
When we had come, where yet the tender dew
Strove with the sun,
and in a place, where fresh
The wind breath'd o'er it, while it slowly
dried;
Both hands extended on the watery grass
My master plac'd,
in graceful act and kind.
Whence I of his intent before appriz'd,

Stretch'd out to him my cheeks suffus'd with tears.
There to my
visage he anew restor'd
That hue, which the dun shades of hell
conceal'd.
Then on the solitary shore arriv'd,
That never sailing on its waters
saw
Man, that could after measure back his course,
He girt me in
such manner as had pleas'd
Him who instructed, and O, strange to tell!

As he selected every humble plant,
Wherever one was pluck'd,
another there
Resembling, straightway in its place arose.
CANTO II
Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd,
That covers, with the most
exalted point
Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls,
And night, that
opposite to him her orb
Sounds, from the stream of Ganges issued
forth,
Holding the scales, that from her hands are dropp'd
When she
reigns highest: so that where I was,
Aurora's white and
vermeil-tinctur'd cheek
To orange turn'd as she in age increas'd.
Meanwhile we linger'd by the water's brink,
Like men, who, musing

on their road, in thought
Journey, while motionless the body rests.

When lo! as near upon the hour of dawn,
Through the thick vapours
Mars with fiery beam
Glares down in west, over the ocean floor;
So
seem'd, what once again I hope to view,
A light so swiftly coming
through the sea,
No winged course might equal its career.
From
which when for a space I had withdrawn
Thine eyes, to make inquiry
of my guide,
Again I look'd and saw it grown in size
And
brightness: thou on either side appear'd
Something, but what I knew
not of bright hue,
And by degrees from underneath it came
Another.
My preceptor silent yet
Stood, while the brightness, that we first
discern'd,
Open'd the form of wings: then when he knew
The pilot,
cried aloud, "Down, down; bend low
Thy knees; behold God's angel:
fold thy hands:
Now shalt thou see true Ministers indeed.
Lo how
all human means he sets at naught!
So that nor oar he needs, nor other
sail
Except his wings, between such distant shores.
Lo how straight
up to heaven he holds them rear'd,
Winnowing the air with those
eternal plumes,
That not like mortal hairs fall off or change!"
As more and more toward us came, more bright
Appear'd the bird of
God, nor could the eye
Endure his splendor near: I mine bent down.

He drove ashore in a small bark so swift
And light, that in its
course no wave it drank.
The heav'nly steersman at the prow was seen,

Visibly written blessed in his looks.
Within a hundred spirits and
more there sat.
"In Exitu Israel de Aegypto;"
All with one voice
together sang, with what
In the remainder of that hymn is writ.

Then soon as with the sign of holy cross
He bless'd them, they at once
leap'd out on land,
The swiftly as he came return'd. The crew,
There
left, appear'd astounded with the place,

Gazing around as one who
sees new sights.
From every side the sun darted his beams,
And with his arrowy
radiance from mid heav'n
Had chas'd the Capricorn, when that
strange tribe
Lifting their eyes towards us: If ye know,
Declare

what path will Lead us to the mount."
Them Virgil answer'd. "Ye suppose perchance
Us well acquainted
with this place: but here,
We, as yourselves, are strangers. Not long
erst
We came, before you but a little space,
By other road so rough
and hard, that now
The' ascent will seem to us as play." The spirits,

Who from my breathing had perceiv'd I liv'd,
Grew pale with wonder.
As the multitude
Flock round a herald, sent with olive branch,
To
hear what news he brings, and in their haste
Tread one another down,
e'en so at sight
Of me those happy spirits were fix'd, each one

Forgetful of its errand, to depart,
Where cleans'd from sin, it might be
made