PURGATORY. Данте Алигьери

      1: Cato, Warden of the Shore

      1 The little ship of my intelligence

      furls sails, drops anchor, leaves the cruel sea.

      I stand upon the second kingdom’s beach

      4 and now can sing of where each sinful soul

      is purified, made good by reaching up

      to paradise. O teach me, poetry!

      7 Be with me Calliope, holy muse

      of epic song who treats voices that sing

      of lesser things as if unpardonable

      10 magpie chattering! In Heaven’s clear height

      I saw sweet blueness deepening down to

      the horizon where that lover’s planet

      13 Venus gladdened my eyes, shining above

      the constellation of the fishes, now

      rising from the sea. To the right I saw

      16 a galaxy unknown to living folk

      except the first, before they came to sin –

      four great stars, points of a brilliant cross.

      19 Poor northern sky, to be without that sight!

      Dropping my eyes I saw beside me one

      lit by that starlight, bearded and white-haired,

      his face so full of venerable might 22

      I wanted to adore him as his son.

      “What are you,” he demanded, “you that flee

      eternal punishment? What guide, what lamp 25

      lit your path out? Has Heaven changed its decree,

      letting the damned souls free? Say by what right

      you stand below my cliffs!” By word and hand 28

      my guide made me bow knee and head then said,

      “We have not come by our own will. Hear why.

      When this man stood in peril of his soul 31

      Heaven sent a lady, saying I should

      lead him through Hell up to the highest good.

      Now he has seen the deeps. May I show now 34

      those sinners purified upon the steeps

      where you preside? Be kind to him. He seeks

      the liberty that you in Utica 37

      perished to keep, shedding your coat of clay

      to proudly wear it on the Judgement Day.

      Our journey breaks no law. This man still lives. 40

      Minos never judged him or me. I dwell

      in the virtuous ring of Hell, close to

      chaste Marcia, the wife who worships you. 43

      For her sake let us climb the blessèd stairs

      that lead to Heaven’s grace. When I return

      to Limbo she will hear how kind you are.” 46

      I saw this warden of the purging hill

      was Cato, Caesar’s foe, who stabbed himself

      49 rather than see the Roman Empire kill

      the glorious Republic that he loved.

      Shaking his head he said, “Aye, Marcia

      52 deserves all kindness, but since she has gone

      beyond death’s river, Acheron, and I

      stay here, why mention her? Since you obey

      55 Heaven’s commands you need not use her name

      for I obey them too. Lead him you guide

      down to this island’s shore. Above the beach

      58 in soft mud grow the reeds that never die.

      Pluck one of these and tie it round his waist.

      Wash his face first. Angels hate the sight

      61 of grime from Hell. After, don’t come back here.

      The rising sun will show a better place

      to start your climb. Goodbye.” He disappeared.

      64 I stood up when my leader said, “Dear child,

      this plain slopes seaward. Let’s do as he told.”

      A morning breeze fleeing before the dawn

      67 came from the distant glitter of the sea.

      We crossed that lonely plain like wanderers

      seeking a path who fear they seek in vain.

      70 The low sun’s level rays began to warm

      the turf we trod, when my guide paused beside

      a boulder’s shadow on a patch of grass

      73 still misted with pearls of dew. I halted,

      knowing what he would do. He stooped, wet hands,

      washed my face clean of crusts left by fearful,

      pitiful tears, restoring how I looked 76

      before invading Hell. We reached the shore

      no living foot had ever touched before.

      Here, as instructed, Virgil plucked a reed, 79

      and as he bound it round my waist I saw

      a miracle, for where that rush once stood

      sprang up another, just as tall and good. 82

      2: Newcomers

      1 By now the sun had left the northern sky

      where at high noon it lights Jerusalem,

      leaving the Ganges in the deepest night.

      4 Seen from our shore the sky above the sea

      took on a rosy glow, into which slid

      that golden sphere of light. We stood and gazed

      7 like wanderers who tarry on a road

      before their journey starts. Then I beheld

      beneath the sun, across the ocean floor

      10 a sight I hope to see again – brightness

      speeding so swiftly to us that no flight

      of bird could equal it. When I gazed back

      13 from questioning my master with a look,

      it had grown brighter. On each side I saw

      a whiteness I could not make out, above

      16 something becoming clearer as it neared.

      My master did not say a word until

      the whitenesses appeared as wings, and then

      19 seeing who moved that ship he cried, “Bend knees,

      clasp hands, bow down before a cherubim

      of God, for you will soon meet more of these.

      See how without a sail or oar the ship 22

      is driven by his Heaven-pointing wings –

      by pure eternal plumes that never moult.”

      The brightness of this dazzling bird of God 25

      made