Purgatorio - Canto XVIII

Purgatorio: Canto XVIII

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An end had put unto his reasoning
The lofty Teacher, and attent was looking
Into my face, if I appeared content;

And I, whom a new thirst still goaded on,
Without was mute, and said within: "Perchance
The too much questioning I make annoys him."

But that true Father, who had comprehended
The timid wish, that opened not itself,
By speaking gave me hardihood to speak.

Whence I: "My sight is, Master, vivified
So in thy light, that clearly I discern
Whate'er thy speech importeth or describes.

Therefore I thee entreat, sweet Father dear,
To teach me love, to which thou dost refer
Every good action and its contrary."

"Direct," he said, "towards me the keen eyes
Of intellect, and clear will be to thee
The error of the blind, who would be leaders.

The soul, which is created apt to love,
Is mobile unto everything that pleases,
Soon as by pleasure she is waked to action.

Your apprehension from some real thing
An image draws, and in yourselves displays it
So that it makes the soul turn unto it.

And if, when turned, towards it she incline,
Love is that inclination; it is Nature,
Which is by pleasure bound in you anew

Then even as the fire doth upward move
By its own form, which to ascend is born,
Where longest in its matter it endures,

So comes the captive soul into desire,
Which is a motion spiritual, and ne'er rests
Until she doth enjoy the thing beloved.

Now may apparent be to thee how hidden
The truth is from those people, who aver
All love is in itself a laudable thing;

Because its matter may perchance appear
Aye to be good; but yet not each impression
Is good, albeit good may be the wax."

"Thy words, and my sequacious intellect,"
I answered him, "have love revealed to me;
But that has made me more impregned with doubt;

For if love from without be offered us,
And with another foot the soul go not,
If right or wrong she go, 'tis not her merit."

And he to me: "What Reason seeth here,
Myself can tell thee; beyond that await
For Beatrice, since 'tis a work of faith.

Every substantial form, that segregate
From matter is, and with it is united,
Specific power has in itself collected,

Which without act is not perceptible,
Nor shows itself except by its effect,
As life does in a plant by the green leaves.

But still, whence cometh the intelligence
Of the first notions, man is ignorant,
And the affection for the first allurements,

Which are in you as instinct in the bee
To make its honey; and this first desire
Merit of praise or blame containeth not.

Now, that to this all others may be gathered,
Innate within you is the power that counsels,
And it should keep the threshold of assent.

This is the principle, from which is taken
Occasion of desert in you, according
As good and guilty loves it takes and winnows.

Those who, in reasoning, to the bottom went,
Were of this innate liberty aware,
Therefore bequeathed they Ethics to the world.

Supposing, then, that from necessity
Springs every love that is within you kindled,
Within yourselves the power is to restrain it.

The noble virtue Beatrice understands
By the free will; and therefore see that thou
Bear it in mind, if she should speak of it."

The moon, belated almost unto midnight,
Now made the stars appear to us more rare,
Formed like a bucket, that is all ablaze,

And counter to the heavens ran through those paths
Which the sun sets aflame, when he of Rome
Sees it 'twixt Sardes and Corsicans go down;

And that patrician shade, for whom is named
Pietola more than any Mantuan town,
Had laid aside the burden of my lading;

Whence I, who Reason manifest and plain
In answer to my questions had received,
Stood like a man in drowsy reverie.

But taken from me was this drowsiness
Suddenly by a people, that behind
Our backs already had come round to us.

And as, of old, Ismenus and Asopus
Beside them saw at night the rush and throng,
If but the Thebans were in need of Bacchus,

So they along that circle curve their step,
From what I saw of those approaching us,
Who by good-will and righteous love are ridden.

Full soon they were upon us, because running
Moved onward all that mighty multitude,
And two in the advance cried out, lamenting,

"Mary in haste unto the Mountain ran,
And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda,
Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain."

"Quick! quick! so that the time may not be lost
By little love!" forthwith the others cried,
"For ardour in well-doing freshens grace!"

"O folk, in whom an eager fervour now
Supplies perhaps delay and negligence,
Put by you in well-doing, through lukewarmness,

This one who lives, and truly I lie not,
Would fain go up, if but the sun relight us;
So tell us where the passage nearest is."

These were the words of him who was my Guide;
And some one of those spirits said: "Come on
Behind us, and the opening shalt thou find;

So full of longing are we to move onward,
That stay we cannot; therefore pardon us,
If thou for churlishness our justice take.

I was San Zeno's Abbot at Verona,
Under the empire of good Barbarossa,
Of whom still sorrowing Milan holds discourse;

And he has one foot in the grave already,
Who shall erelong lament that monastery,
And sorry be of having there had power,

Because his son, in his whole body sick,
And worse in mind, and who was evil-born,
He put into the place of its true pastor."

If more he said, or silent was, I know not,
He had already passed so far beyond us;
But this I heard, and to retain it pleased me.

And he who was in every need my succour
Said: "Turn thee hitherward; see two of them
Come fastening upon slothfulness their teeth."

In rear of all they shouted: "Sooner were
The people dead to whom the sea was opened,
Than their inheritors the Jordan saw;

And those who the fatigue did not endure
Unto the issue, with Anchises' son,
Themselves to life withouten glory offered."

Then when from us so separated were
Those shades, that they no longer could be seen,
Within me a new thought did entrance find,

Whence others many and diverse were born;
And so I lapsed from one into another,
That in a reverie mine eyes I closed,

And meditation into dream transmuted.

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La Divina Commedia di Dante: Purgatorio: Canto XVIII

Posto avea fine al suo ragionamento
  l'alto dottore, e attento guardava
  ne la mia vista s'io parea contento;

e io, cui nova sete ancor frugava,
  di fuor tacea, e dentro dicea: 'Forse
  lo troppo dimandar ch'io fo li grava'.

Ma quel padre verace, che s'accorse
  del timido voler che non s'apriva,
  parlando, di parlare ardir mi porse.

Ond'io: "Maestro, il mio veder s'avviva
  si` nel tuo lume, ch'io discerno chiaro
  quanto la tua ragion parta o descriva.

Pero` ti prego, dolce padre caro,
  che mi dimostri amore, a cui reduci
  ogne buono operare e 'l suo contraro".

"Drizza", disse, "ver' me l'agute luci
  de lo 'ntelletto, e fieti manifesto
  l'error de' ciechi che si fanno duci.

L'animo, ch'e` creato ad amar presto,
  ad ogne cosa e` mobile che piace,
  tosto che dal piacere in atto e` desto.

Vostra apprensiva da esser verace
  tragge intenzione, e dentro a voi la spiega,
  si` che l'animo ad essa volger face;

e se, rivolto, inver' di lei si piega,
  quel piegare e` amor, quell'e` natura
  che per piacer di novo in voi si lega.

Poi, come 'l foco movesi in altura
  per la sua forma ch'e` nata a salire
  la` dove piu` in sua matera dura,

cosi` l'animo preso entra in disire,
  ch'e` moto spiritale, e mai non posa
  fin che la cosa amata il fa gioire.

Or ti puote apparer quant'e` nascosa
  la veritate a la gente ch'avvera
  ciascun amore in se' laudabil cosa;

pero` che forse appar la sua matera
  sempre esser buona, ma non ciascun segno
  e` buono, ancor che buona sia la cera".

"Le tue parole e 'l mio seguace ingegno",
  rispuos'io lui, "m'hanno amor discoverto,
  ma cio` m'ha fatto di dubbiar piu` pregno;

che', s'amore e` di fuori a noi offerto,
  e l'anima non va con altro piede,
  se dritta o torta va, non e` suo merto".

Ed elli a me: "Quanto ragion qui vede,
  dir ti poss'io; da indi in la` t'aspetta
  pur a Beatrice, ch'e` opra di fede.

Ogne forma sustanzial, che setta
  e` da matera ed e` con lei unita,
  specifica vertute ha in se' colletta,

la qual sanza operar non e` sentita,
  ne' si dimostra mai che per effetto,
  come per verdi fronde in pianta vita.

Pero`, la` onde vegna lo 'ntelletto
  de le prime notizie, omo non sape,
  e de' primi appetibili l'affetto,

che sono in voi si` come studio in ape
  di far lo mele; e questa prima voglia
  merto di lode o di biasmo non cape.

Or perche' a questa ogn'altra si raccoglia,
  innata v'e` la virtu` che consiglia,
  e de l'assenso de' tener la soglia.

Quest'e` 'l principio la` onde si piglia
  ragion di meritare in voi, secondo
  che buoni e rei amori accoglie e viglia.

Color che ragionando andaro al fondo,
  s'accorser d'esta innata libertate;
  pero` moralita` lasciaro al mondo.

Onde, poniam che di necessitate
  surga ogne amor che dentro a voi s'accende,
  di ritenerlo e` in voi la podestate.

La nobile virtu` Beatrice intende
  per lo libero arbitrio, e pero` guarda
  che l'abbi a mente, s'a parlar ten prende".

La luna, quasi a mezza notte tarda,
  facea le stelle a noi parer piu` rade,
  fatta com'un secchion che tuttor arda;

e correa contro 'l ciel per quelle strade
  che 'l sole infiamma allor che quel da Roma
  tra Sardi e ' Corsi il vede quando cade.

E quell'ombra gentil per cui si noma
  Pietola piu` che villa mantoana,
  del mio carcar diposta avea la soma;

per ch'io, che la ragione aperta e piana
  sovra le mie quistioni avea ricolta,
  stava com'om che sonnolento vana.

Ma questa sonnolenza mi fu tolta
  subitamente da gente che dopo
  le nostre spalle a noi era gia` volta.

E quale Ismeno gia` vide e Asopo
  lungo di se` di notte furia e calca,
  pur che i Teban di Bacco avesser uopo,

cotal per quel giron suo passo falca,
  per quel ch'io vidi di color, venendo,
  cui buon volere e giusto amor cavalca.

Tosto fur sovr'a noi, perche' correndo
  si movea tutta quella turba magna;
  e due dinanzi gridavan piangendo:

"Maria corse con fretta a la montagna;
  e Cesare, per soggiogare Ilerda,
  punse Marsilia e poi corse in Ispagna".

"Ratto, ratto, che 'l tempo non si perda
  per poco amor", gridavan li altri appresso,
  "che studio di ben far grazia rinverda".

"O gente in cui fervore aguto adesso
  ricompie forse negligenza e indugio
  da voi per tepidezza in ben far messo,

questi che vive, e certo i' non vi bugio,
  vuole andar su`, pur che 'l sol ne riluca;
  pero` ne dite ond'e` presso il pertugio".

Parole furon queste del mio duca;
  e un di quelli spirti disse: "Vieni
  di retro a noi, e troverai la buca.

Noi siam di voglia a muoverci si` pieni,
  che restar non potem; pero` perdona,
  se villania nostra giustizia tieni.

Io fui abate in San Zeno a Verona
  sotto lo 'mperio del buon Barbarossa,
  di cui dolente ancor Milan ragiona.

E tale ha gia` l'un pie` dentro la fossa,
  che tosto piangera` quel monastero,
  e tristo fia d'avere avuta possa;

perche' suo figlio, mal del corpo intero,
  e de la mente peggio, e che mal nacque,
  ha posto in loco di suo pastor vero".

Io non so se piu` disse o s'ei si tacque,
  tant'era gia` di la` da noi trascorso;
  ma questo intesi, e ritener mi piacque.

E quei che m'era ad ogne uopo soccorso
  disse: "Volgiti qua: vedine due
  venir dando a l'accidia di morso".

Di retro a tutti dicean: "Prima fue
  morta la gente a cui il mar s'aperse,
  che vedesse Iordan le rede sue.

E quella che l'affanno non sofferse
  fino a la fine col figlio d'Anchise,
  se' stessa a vita sanza gloria offerse".

Poi quando fuor da noi tanto divise
  quell'ombre, che veder piu` non potiersi,
  novo pensiero dentro a me si mise,

del qual piu` altri nacquero e diversi;
  e tanto d'uno in altro vaneggiai,
  che li occhi per vaghezza ricopersi,

e 'l pensamento in sogno trasmutai.