Divine Comedy: Purgatory | Page 9

one before him runs,?And one behind his mantle twitches, one?Fast by his side bids him remember him.?He stops not; and each one, to whom his hand?Is stretch'd, well knows he bids him stand aside;?And thus he from the press defends himself.?E'en such was I in that close-crowding throng;?And turning so my face around to all,?And promising, I 'scap'd from it with pains.
Here of Arezzo him I saw, who fell?By Ghino's cruel arm; and him beside,?Who in his chase was swallow'd by the stream.?Here Frederic Novello, with his hand?Stretch'd forth, entreated; and of Pisa he,?Who put the good Marzuco to such proof?Of constancy. Count Orso I beheld;?And from its frame a soul dismiss'd for spite?And envy, as it said, but for no crime:?I speak of Peter de la Brosse; and here,?While she yet lives, that Lady of Brabant?Let her beware; lest for so false a deed?She herd with worse than these. When I was freed?From all those spirits, who pray'd for others' prayers?To hasten on their state of blessedness;?Straight I began: "O thou, my luminary!?It seems expressly in thy text denied,?That heaven's supreme decree can never bend?To supplication; yet with this design?Do these entreat. Can then their hope be vain,?Or is thy saying not to me reveal'd?"
He thus to me: "Both what I write is plain,?And these deceiv'd not in their hope, if well?Thy mind consider, that the sacred height?Of judgment doth not stoop, because love's flame?In a short moment all fulfils, which he?Who sojourns here, in right should satisfy.?Besides, when I this point concluded thus,?By praying no defect could be supplied;?Because the pray'r had none access to God.?Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not?Contented unless she assure thee so,?Who betwixt truth and mind infuses light.?I know not if thou take me right; I mean?Beatrice. Her thou shalt behold above,?Upon this mountain's crown, fair seat of joy."
Then I: "Sir! let us mend our speed; for now?I tire not as before; and lo! the hill?Stretches its shadow far." He answer'd thus:?"Our progress with this day shall be as much?As we may now dispatch; but otherwise?Than thou supposest is the truth. For there?Thou canst not be, ere thou once more behold?Him back returning, who behind the steep?Is now so hidden, that as erst his beam?Thou dost not break. But lo! a spirit there?Stands solitary, and toward us looks:?It will instruct us in the speediest way."
We soon approach'd it. O thou Lombard spirit!?How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood,?Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes!?It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass,?Eyeing us as a lion on his watch.?I3ut Virgil with entreaty mild advanc'd,?Requesting it to show the best ascent.?It answer to his question none return'd,?But of our country and our kind of life?Demanded. When my courteous guide began,?"Mantua," the solitary shadow quick?Rose towards us from the place in which it stood,?And cry'd, "Mantuan! I am thy countryman?Sordello." Each the other then embrac'd.
Ah slavish Italy! thou inn of grief,?Vessel without a pilot in loud storm,?Lady no longer of fair provinces,?But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit,?Ev'n from the Pleasant sound of his dear land?Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen?With such glad cheer; while now thy living ones?In thee abide not without war; and one?Malicious gnaws another, ay of those?Whom the same wall and the same moat contains,?Seek, wretched one! around thy sea-coasts wide;?Then homeward to thy bosom turn, and mark?If any part of the sweet peace enjoy.?What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand?Befitted, if thy saddle be unpress'd??Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame.?Ah people! thou obedient still shouldst live,?And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit,?If well thou marked'st that which God commands
Look how that beast to felness hath relaps'd?From having lost correction of the spur,?Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand,?O German Albert! who abandon'st her,?That is grown savage and unmanageable,?When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels.?Just judgment from the stars fall on thy blood!?And be it strange and manifest to all!?Such as may strike thy successor with dread!?For that thy sire and thou have suffer'd thus,?Through greediness of yonder realms detain'd,?The garden of the empire to run waste.?Come see the Capulets and Montagues,?The Philippeschi and Monaldi! man?Who car'st for nought! those sunk in grief, and these?With dire suspicion rack'd. Come, cruel one!?Come and behold the' oppression of the nobles,?And mark their injuries: and thou mayst see.?What safety Santafiore can supply.?Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee,?Desolate widow! day and night with moans:?"My Caesar, why dost thou desert my side?"?Come and behold what love among thy people:?And if no pity touches thee for us,?Come and blush for thine own report. For me,?If it be lawful, O Almighty Power,?Who wast in earth for our sakes crucified!?Are thy just eyes turn'd elsewhere? or is this?A preparation in the wond'rous depth?Of thy sage counsel