Divine Comedy: Purgatory | Page 6

walks in doubt might stand to look.
"O spirits perfect! O already chosen!"?Virgil to them began, "by that blest peace,?Which, as I deem, is for you all prepar'd,?Instruct us where the mountain low declines,?So that attempt to mount it be not vain.?For who knows most, him loss of time most grieves."
As sheep, that step from forth their fold, by one,?Or pairs, or three at once; meanwhile the rest?Stand fearfully, bending the eye and nose?To ground, and what the foremost does, that do?The others, gath'ring round her, if she stops,?Simple and quiet, nor the cause discern;?So saw I moving to advance the first,?Who of that fortunate crew were at the head,?Of modest mien and graceful in their gait.?When they before me had beheld the light?From my right side fall broken on the ground,?So that the shadow reach'd the cave, they stopp'd?And somewhat back retir'd: the same did all,?Who follow'd, though unweeting of the cause
"Unask'd of you, yet freely I confess,?This is a human body which ye see.?That the sun's light is broken on the ground,?Marvel not: but believe, that not without?Virtue deriv'd from Heaven, we to climb?Over this wall aspire." So them bespake?My master; and that virtuous tribe rejoin'd;?" Turn, and before you there the entrance lies,"?Making a signal to us with bent hands.
Then of them one began. "Whoe'er thou art,?Who journey'st thus this way, thy visage turn,?Think if me elsewhere thou hast ever seen."
I tow'rds him turn'd, and with fix'd eye beheld.?Comely, and fair, and gentle of aspect,?He seem'd, but on one brow a gash was mark'd.
When humbly I disclaim'd to have beheld?Him ever: "Now behold!" he said, and show'd?High on his breast a wound: then smiling spake.
"I am Manfredi, grandson to the Queen?Costanza: whence I pray thee, when return'd,?To my fair daughter go, the parent glad?Of Aragonia and Sicilia's pride;?And of the truth inform her, if of me?Aught else be told. When by two mortal blows?My frame was shatter'd, I betook myself?Weeping to him, who of free will forgives.?My sins were horrible; but so wide arms?Hath goodness infinite, that it receives?All who turn to it. Had this text divine?Been of Cosenza's shepherd better scann'd,?Who then by Clement on my hunt was set,?Yet at the bridge's head my bones had lain,?Near Benevento, by the heavy mole?Protected; but the rain now drenches them,?And the wind drives, out of the kingdom's bounds,?Far as the stream of Verde, where, with lights?Extinguish'd, he remov'd them from their bed.?Yet by their curse we are not so destroy'd,?But that the eternal love may turn, while hope?Retains her verdant blossoms. True it is,?That such one as in contumacy dies?Against the holy church, though he repent,?Must wander thirty-fold for all the time?In his presumption past; if such decree?Be not by prayers of good men shorter made?Look therefore if thou canst advance my bliss;?Revealing to my good Costanza, how?Thou hast beheld me, and beside the terms?Laid on me of that interdict; for here?By means of those below much profit comes."
CANTO IV
When by sensations of delight or pain,?That any of our faculties hath seiz'd,?Entire the soul collects herself, it seems?She is intent upon that power alone,?And thus the error is disprov'd which holds?The soul not singly lighted in the breast.?And therefore when as aught is heard or seen,?That firmly keeps the soul toward it turn'd,?Time passes, and a man perceives it not.?For that, whereby he hearken, is one power,?Another that, which the whole spirit hash;?This is as it were bound, while that is free.
This found I true by proof, hearing that spirit?And wond'ring; for full fifty steps aloft?The sun had measur'd unobserv'd of me,?When we arriv'd where all with one accord?The spirits shouted, "Here is what ye ask."
A larger aperture ofttimes is stopp'd?With forked stake of thorn by villager,?When the ripe grape imbrowns, than was the path,?By which my guide, and I behind him close,?Ascended solitary, when that troop?Departing left us. On Sanleo's road?Who journeys, or to Noli low descends,?Or mounts Bismantua's height, must use his feet;?But here a man had need to fly, I mean?With the swift wing and plumes of high desire,?Conducted by his aid, who gave me hope,?And with light furnish'd to direct my way.
We through the broken rock ascended, close?Pent on each side, while underneath the ground?Ask'd help of hands and feet. When we arriv'd?Near on the highest ridge of the steep bank,?Where the plain level open'd I exclaim'd,?"O master! say which way can we proceed?"
He answer'd, "Let no step of thine recede.?Behind me gain the mountain, till to us?Some practis'd guide appear." That eminence?Was lofty that no eye might reach its point,?And the side proudly rising, more than line?From the mid quadrant to the centre drawn.?I wearied thus began: "Parent belov'd!?Turn, and behold how I remain alone,?If thou stay not." --" My son!" He straight reply'd,?"Thus far put forth thy strength; "and to a track?Pointed, that,