Book Read Free

The Divine Comedy

Page 5

by Dante Alighieri


  so did I turn, my soul still fugitive

  from death’s surviving image, to stare down

  that pass that none had ever left alive.

  And there I lay to rest from my heart’s race

  till calm and breath returned to me. Then rose

  and pushed up that dead slope at such a pace

  each footfall rose above the last. And lo!

  almost at the beginning of the rise

  I faced a spotted Leopard, all tremor and flow

  and gaudy pelt. And it would not pass, but stood

  so blocking my every turn that time and again

  I was on the verge of turning back to the wood.

  This fell at the first widening of the dawn

  as the sun was climbing Aries with those stars

  that rode with him to light the new creation.

  Thus the holy hour and the sweet season

  of commemoration did much to arm my fear

  of that bright murderous beast with their good omen.

  Yet not so much but what I shook with dread

  at sight of a great Lion that broke upon me

  raging with hunger, its enormous head

  held high as if to strike a mortal terror

  into the very air. And down his track,

  a She-Wolf drove upon me, a starved horror

  ravening and wasted beyond all belief.

  She seemed a rack for avarice, gaunt and craving.

  Oh many the souls she has brought to endless grief!

  She brought such heaviness upon my spirit

  at sight of her savagery and desperation,

  I died from every hope of that high summit.

  And like a miser—eager in acquisition

  but desperate in self-reproach when Fortune’s wheel

  turns to the hour of his loss—all tears and attrition

  I wavered back; and still the beast pursued,

  forcing herself against me bit by bit

  till I slid back into the sunless wood.

  And as I fell to my soul’s ruin, a presence

  gathered before me on the discolored air,

  the figure of one who seemed hoarse from long silence.

  At sight of him in that friendless waste I cried:

  “Have pity on me, whatever thing you are,

  whether shade or living man.” And it replied:

  “Not man, though man I once was, and my blood

  was Lombard, both my parents Mantuan.

  I was born, though late, sub Julio, and bred

  in Rome under Augustus in the noon

  of the false and lying gods. I was a poet

  and sang of old Anchises’ noble son

  who came to Rome after the burning of Troy.

  But you—why do you return to these distresses

  instead of climbing that shining Mount of Joy

  which is the seat and first cause of man’s bliss?”

  “And are you then that Virgil and that fountain

  of purest speech?” My voice grew tremulous:

  “Glory and light of poets! now may that zeal

  and love’s apprenticeship that I poured out

  on your heroic verses serve me well!

  For you are my true master and first author,

  the sole maker from whom I drew the breath

  of that sweet style whose measures have brought me honor.

  See there, immortal sage, the beast I flee.

  For my soul’s salvation, I beg you, guard me from her,

  for she has struck a mortal tremor through me.”

  And he replied, seeing my soul in tears:

  “He must go by another way who would escape

  this wilderness, for that mad beast that fleers

  before you there, suffers no man to pass.

  She tracks down all, kills all, and knows no glut,

  but, feeding, she grows hungrier than she was.

  She mates with any beast, and will mate with more

  before the Greyhound comes to hunt her down.

  He will not feed on lands nor loot, but honor

  and love and wisdom will make straight his way.

  He will rise between Feltro and Feltro, and in him

  shall be the resurrection and new day

  of that sad Italy for which Nisus died,

  and Turnus, and Euryalus, and the maid Camilla.

  He shall hunt her through every nation of sick pride

  till she is driven back forever to Hell

  whence Envy first released her on the world.

  Therefore, for your own good, I think it well

  you follow me and I will be your guide

  and lead you forth through an eternal place.

  There you shall see the ancient spirits tried

  in endless pain, and hear their lamentation

  as each bemoans the second death of souls.

  Next you shall see upon a burning mountain

  souls in fire and yet content in fire,

  knowing that whensoever it may be

  they yet will mount into the blessed choir.

  To which, if it is still your wish to climb,

  a worthier spirit shall be sent to guide you.

  With her shall I leave you, for the King of Time,

  who reigns on high, forbids me to come there

  since, living, I rebelled against his law.

  He rules the waters and the land and air

  and there holds court, his city and his throne.

  Oh blessed are they he chooses!” And I to him:

  “Poet, by that God to you unknown,

  lead me this way. Beyond this present ill

  and worse to dread, lead me to Peter’s gate

  and be my guide through the sad halls of Hell.”

  And he then: “Follow.” And he moved ahead

  in silence, and I followed where he led.

  NOTES

  1. Midway in our life’s journey: The Biblical life span is threescore years and ten. The action opens in Dante’s thirty-fifth year, i.e., A.D. 1300.

  17. that planet: The Sun. Ptolemaic astronomers considered it a planet. It is also symbolic of God as He who lights man’s way.

  31. each footfall rose above the last: The literal rendering would be: “So that the fixed foot was ever the lower.” “Fixed” has often been translated “right” and an ingenious reasoning can support that reading, but a simpler explanation offers itself and seems more competent: Dante is saying that he climbed with such zeal and haste that every footfall carried him above the last despite the steepness of the climb. At a slow pace, on the other hand, the rear foot might be brought up only as far as the forward foot. This device of selecting a minute but exactly centered detail to convey the whole of a larger action is one of the central characteristics of Dante’s style.

  THE THREE BEASTS. These three beasts undoubtedly are taken from Jeremiah, v, 6. Many additional and incidental interpretations have been advanced for them, but the central interpretation must remain as noted. They foreshadow the three divisions of Hell (incontinence, violence, and fraud) which Virgil explains at length in Canto XI, 16-111. I am not at all sure but what the She-Wolf is better interpreted as Fraud and the Leopard as Incontinence. Good arguments can be offered either way.

  38-39. Aries . . . that rode with him to light the new creation: The medieval tradition had it that the sun was in Aries at the time of the Creation. The significance of the astronomical and religious conjunction is an important part of Dante’s intended allegory. It is just before dawn of Good Friday A.D. 1300 when he awakens in the Dark Wood. Thus his new life begins under Aries, the sign of creation, at dawn (rebirth) and in the Easter season (resurrection). Moreover the moon is full and the sun is in the equinox, conditions that did not fall together on any Friday of 1300. Dante is obviously constructing poetically the perfect Easter as a symbol of his new awakening.

  69. sub Julio: In the reign of Julius Caesar.

  9
5. The Greyhound . . . Feltro and Feltro: Almost certainly refers to Can Grande della Scala (1290-1329), great Italian leader born in Verona, which lies between the towns of Feltre and Montefeltro.

  100-101. Nisus, Turnus, Euryalus, Camilla: All were killed in the war between the Trojans and the Latians when, according to legend, Aeneas led the survivors of Troy into Italy. Nisus and Euryalus (Aeneid, IX) were Trojan comrades-in-arms who died together. Camilla (Aeneid, XI) was the daughter of the Latian king and one of the warrior women. She was killed in a horse charge against the Trojans after displaying great gallantry. Turnus (Aeneid, XII) was killed by Aeneas in a duel.

  110. the second death: Damnation. “This is the second death, even the lake of fire.” (Revelation, xx, 14)

  118. forbids me to come there since, living, etc.: Salvation is only through Christ in Dante’s theology. Virgil lived and died before the establishment of Christ’s teachings in Rome, and cannot therefore enter Heaven.

  125. Peter’s gate: The gate of Purgatory. (See Purgatorio, IX, 76 ff.) The gate is guarded by an angel with a gleaming sword. The angel is Peter’s vicar (Peter, the first Pope, symbolized all Popes; i.e., Christ’s vicar on earth) and is entrusted with the two great keys.

  Some commentators argue that this is the gate of Paradise, but Dante mentions no gate beyond this one in his ascent to Heaven. It should be remembered, too, that those who pass the gate of Purgatory have effectively entered Heaven.

  The three great gates that figure in the entire journey are: the gate of Hell (Canto III, 1-11), the gate of Dis (Canto VIII, 79-113, and Canto IX, 86-87), and the gate of Purgatory, as above.

  Canto II

  The Descent

  It is evening of the first day (Friday). Dante is following Virgil and finds himself tired and despairing. How can he be worthy of such a vision as Virgil has described? He hesitates and seems about to abandon his first purpose.

  To comfort him Virgil explains how Beatrice descended to him in Limbo and told him of her concern for Dante. It is she, the symbol of Divine Love, who sends Virgil to lead Dante from error. She has come into Hell itself on this errand, for Dante cannot come to Divine Love unaided; Reason must lead him. Moreover Beatrice has been sent with the prayers of the Virgin Mary (COMPASSION), and of Saint Lucia (DIVINE LIGHT). Rachel (THE CONTEMPLATIVE LIFE) also figures in the heavenly scene which Virgil recounts.

  Virgil explains all this and reproaches Dante: how can he hesitate longer when such heavenly powers are concerned for him, and Virgil himself has promised to lead him safely?

  Dante understands at once that such forces cannot fail him, and his spirits rise in joyous anticipation.

  The light was departing. The brown air drew down

  all the earth’s creatures, calling them to rest

  from their day-roving, as I, one man alone,

  prepared myself to face the double war

  of the journey and the pity, which memory

  shall here set down, nor hesitate, nor err.

  O Muses! O High Genius! Be my aid!

  O Memory, recorder of the vision,

  here shall your true nobility be displayed!

  Thus I began: “Poet, you who must guide me,

  before you trust me to that arduous passage,

  look to me and look through me—can I be worthy?

  You sang how the father of Sylvius, while still

  in corruptible flesh won to that other world,

  crossing with mortal sense the immortal sill.

  But if the Adversary of all Evil

  weighing his consequence and who and what

  should issue from him, treated him so well—

  that cannot seem unfitting to thinking men,

  since he was chosen father of Mother Rome

  and of her Empire by God’s will and token.

  Both, to speak strictly, were founded and foreknown

  as the established Seat of Holiness

  for the successors of Great Peter’s throne.

  In that quest, which your verses celebrate,

  he learned those mysteries from which arose

  his victory and Rome’s apostolate.

  There later came the chosen vessel, Paul,

  bearing the confirmation of that Faith

  which is the one true door to life eternal.

  But I—how should I dare? By whose permission?

  I am not Aeneas. I am not Paul.

  Who could believe me worthy of the vision?

  How, then, may I presume to this high quest

  and not fear my own brashness? You are wise

  and will grasp what my poor words can but suggest.”

  As one who unwills what he wills, will stay

  strong purposes with feeble second thoughts

  until he spells all his first zeal away—

  so I hung back and balked on that dim coast

  till thinking had worn out my enterprise,

  so stout at starting and so early lost.

  “I understand from your words and the look in your eyes,”

  that shadow of magnificence answered me,

  “your soul is sunken in that cowardice

  that bears down many men, turning their course

  and resolution by imagined perils,

  as his own shadow turns the frightened horse.

  To free you of this dread I will tell you all

  of why I came to you and what I heard

  when first I pitied you. I was a soul

  among the souls of Limbo, when a Lady

  so blessed and so beautiful, I prayed her

  to order and command my will, called to me.

  Her eyes were kindled from the lamps of Heaven.

  Her voice reached through me, tender, sweet, and low.

  An angel’s voice, a music of its own:

  ‘O gracious Mantuan whose melodies

  live in earth’s memory and shall live on

  till the last motion ceases in the skies,

  my dearest friend, and fortune’s foe, has strayed

  onto a friendless shore and stands beset

  by such distresses that he turns afraid

  from the True Way, and news of him in Heaven

  rumors my dread he is already lost.

  I come, afraid that I am too-late risen.

  Fly to him and with your high counsel, pity,

  and with whatever need be for his good

  and soul’s salvation, help him, and solace me.

  It is I, Beatrice, who send you to him.

  I come from the blessed height for which I yearn.

  Love called me here. When amid Seraphim

  I stand again before my Lord, your praises

  shall sound in Heaven.’ She paused, and I began:

  ‘O Lady of that only grace that raises

  feeble mankind within its mortal cycle

  above all other works God’s will has placed

  within the heaven of the smallest circle;

  so welcome is your command that to my sense,

  were it already fulfilled, it would yet seem tardy.

  I understand, and am all obedience.

  But tell me how you dare to venture thus

  so far from the wide heaven of your joy

  to which your thoughts yearn back from this abyss.’

  ‘Since what you ask,’ she answered me, ‘probes near

  the root of all, I will say briefly only

  how I have come through Hell’s pit without fear.

  Know then, O waiting and compassionate soul,

  that is to fear which has the power to harm,

  and nothing else is fearful even in Hell.

  I am so made by God’s all-seeing mercy

  your anguish does not touch me, and the flame

  of this great burning has no power upon me.

  There is a Lady in Heaven so concerned

  for him I send you to, that for her sake

  the strict decree is broken. She has turned />
  and called Lucia to her wish and mercy

  saying: “Thy faithful one is sorely pressed;

  in his distresses I commend him to thee.”

  Lucia, that soul of light and foe of all

  cruelty, rose and came to me at once

  where I was sitting with the ancient Rachel,

  saying to me: “Beatrice, true praise of God,

  why dost thou not help him who loved thee so

  that for thy sake he left the vulgar crowd?

  Dost thou not hear his cries? Canst thou not see

  the death he wrestles with beside that river

 

‹ Prev