Purgatorio: Canto XXVIII
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Eager already to search in and round
The
heavenly forest, dense and
living-green,
Which tempered to the eyes the
new-born day,
Withouten more delay I left the bank,
Taking the level
country slowly, slowly
Over the soil that everywhere
breathes fragrance.
A softly-breathing air, that no
mutation
Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me
No heavier blow than of a
gentle wind,
Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous,
Did all of them bow downward toward that side
Where its first shadow casts the
Holy Mountain;
Yet not from their upright
direction swayed,
So that the little birds upon their tops
Should leave the practice of each art of theirs;
But with full
ravishment the hours of prime,
Singing, received they in the midst of leaves,
That ever bore a burden to their rhymes,
Such as from branch to branch goes gathering on
Through the pine forest on the shore of
Chiassi,
When
Eolus unlooses the
Sirocco.
Already my slow steps had carried me
Into the ancient wood so far, that I
Could not perceive where I had entered it.
And lo! my further course a
stream cut off,
Which tow'rd the left hand with its little waves
Bent down the grass that on its
margin sprang.
All waters that on earth most
limpid are
Would seem to have within themselves some mixture
Compared with that which nothing doth conceal,
Although it moves on with a brown, brown current
Under the shade
perpetual, that never
Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon.
With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed
Beyond the
rivulet, to look upon
The great variety of the fresh may.
And there appeared to me (even as appears
Suddenly something that doth turn aside
Through very
wonder every other thought)
A lady all alone, who went along
Singing and culling
floweret after
floweret,
With which her pathway was all painted over.
"Ah,
beauteous lady, who in rays of
love
Dost warm thyself, if I may trust to looks,
Which the heart's
witnesses are wont to be,
May the desire come unto thee to draw
Near to this river's bank," I said to her,
"So much that I might hear what thou art singing.
Thou makest me remember where and what
Proserpina that moment was when lost
Her mother her, and she herself the
Spring."
As turns herself, with feet together pressed
And to the ground, a lady who is
dancing,
And hardly puts one foot before the other,
On the
vermilion and the
yellow flowerets
She turned towards me, not in other wise
Than maiden who her modest eyes casts down;
And my
entreaties made to be content,
So near approaching, that the
dulcet sound
Came unto me together with its meaning
As soon as she was where the grasses are.
Bathed by the waters of the
beauteous river,
To lift her eyes she granted me the
boon.
I do not think there shone so great a light
Under the lids of
Venus, when
transfixed
By her own son, beyond his usual
custom!
Erect upon the other bank she smiled,
Bearing full many colours in her hands,
Which that high land produces without seed.
Apart three paces did the
river make us;
But Hellespont, where
Xerxes passed across,
(A curb still to all human
arrogance,)
More hatred from
Leander did not suffer
For rolling between
Sestos and
Abydos,
Than that from me, because it oped not then.
"Ye are new-comers; and because I smile,"
Began she, "peradventure, in this place
Elect to human
Nature for its nest,
Some apprehension keeps you
marvelling;
But the psalm '
Delectasti' giveth light
Which has the power to uncloud your
intellect.
And thou who foremost art, and didst entreat me,
Speak, if thou wouldst hear more; for I came ready
To all thy
questionings, as far as needful."
"The water," said I, "and the forest's sound,
Are combating within me my new faith
In something which I heard opposed to this."
Whence she: "I will relate how from its cause
Proceedeth that which maketh thee to wonder,
And purge away the
cloud that smites upon thee.
The
Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting,
Created man good, and this goodly place
Gave him as
hansel of eternal peace.
By his default short while he sojourned here;
By his default to weeping and to toil
He changed his
innocent laughter and sweet play.
That the
disturbance which below is made
By
exhalations of the
land and
water,
(Which far as may be follow after heat,)
Might not upon
mankind wage any war,
This mount ascended tow'rds the heaven so high,
And is exempt, from there where it is locked.
Now since the universal
atmosphere
Turns in a circuit with the
primal motion
Unless the circle is broken on some side,
Upon this height, that all is
disengaged
In living ether, doth this motion
strike
And make the forest sound, for it is dense;
And so much power the stricken plant possesses
That with its virtue it impregns the air,
And this, revolving, scatters it around;
And yonder earth, according as 'tis worthy
In self or in its clime, conceives and bears
Of divers qualities the divers trees;
It should not seem a marvel then on earth,
This being heard, whenever any plant
Without seed
manifest there
taketh root.
And thou must know, this holy table-land
In which thou art is full of every seed,
And fruit has in it never gathered there.
The water which thou seest springs not from vein
Restored by
vapour that the cold condenses,
Like to a stream that gains or loses breath;
But issues from a fountain safe and certain,
Which by the
will of God as much regains
As it discharges, open on two sides.
Upon this side with
virtue it descends,
Which takes away all memory of
sin;
On that, of every good deed done restores it.
Here
Lethe, as upon the other side
Eunoe, it is called; and worketh not
If first on either side it be not tasted.
This every other savour doth transcend;
And notwithstanding slaked so far may be
Thy
thirst, that I reveal to thee no more,
I'll give thee a
corollary still in grace,
Nor think my speech will be to thee less dear
If it spread out beyond my
promise to thee.
Those who in
ancient times have feigned in song
The
Age of Gold and its
felicity,
Dreamed of this place perhaps upon
Parnassus.
Here was the human race in
innocence;
Here evermore was
Spring, and every
fruit;
This is the nectar of which each one speaks."
Then backward did I turn me wholly round
Unto my
Poets, and saw that with a smile
They had been listening to these closing words;
Then to the
beautiful lady turned mine eyes.
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