Classic Poem

CANTO XV.

Argument.

Dante meets Brunetto Latini, his early teacher, who announces to him his future misfortunes

A LONG the stony margin did we go,
While o'er the streamlet hung a misty veil,
And screen'd the waters from the fiery glow.
Even as in Flanders, when fierce winds prevail
'Twixt Ghent and Bruges, and in fear they deem
They needs must raise a fence which shall not fail;
And as the Paduans by Brenta's stream
Defend their lands and castles from the flood,
Ere Chiarentana feel the sunny beam:
Thus in like manner this strong bulwark stood;
Although the workman (whosoe'er he be)
Framed it less high and wide. Now from the wood
So far removid in our course were we,
That, turning, nought thereof could I perceive;
When, coming slowly toward us, did I see
A band of those who in this region grieve:
And still, in drawing near us, did they try
To see us plainly; as ye strive at eve,
'Neath the new moon, each other to descry:
Thus did they gaze intent, with bended brow,
As agid workmen seek the needle's eye.
And while with straining glance they pass'd me, now
One recognised me, and my garment caught.
And then he spake: " What wondrous thing art thou? "
When thus his outstretch'd arm toward me sought,
I fix'd my eyes upon his face, which bore
Trace of the fire wherewith this land is fraught.
And to my memory he return'd once more;
And then, bent down, I said: " Do I perceive
Thee, Ser Brunetto, on this mournful shore? "
He answer'd: " O my son, let it not grieve
Thy soul if here Brunetto turn with thee,
A little while, and these his comrades leave. "
I said: " Even so, I pray thee, let it be;
Or wouldst thou that I here should somewhat stay,
If it so pleaseth him who goes with me? "
Then he: " If any of our herd delay
One moment, moveless for a hundred years
He lies beneath the flame. Then go thy way:
I follow near the trace thy footstep wears;
Thereafter to rejoin the troop who wend
Along their course with never-ending tears. "
I dared not from the solid path descend,
To walk beside him; but, with rev'rent mien,
Lowly my head toward him did I bend.
Thus he began: " What fortune to this scene
Hath led thee ere the final day of doom?
And who doth guide thee? " " In the life serene
Of earth, I wander'd to a vale of gloom,
And lost myself among its depths forlorn,
Ere yet I came to manhood's ripest bloom.
From thence I turn'd away but yester-morn:
Yon shade appear'd, to aid me in the war;
And by this pathway am I homeward borne. "
I spake; and he replied: " If thou thy star
Wilt follow, thou a glorious port shalt gain;
If well I saw in the sweet life afar.
Had I not been by Death so early slain,
Beholding Heaven to thee-ward so benign
My aid and counsel had I given thee fain.
But know, this people ingrate and malign,
Who from Fiesole came down of yore,
And still recall, in sooth, their rustic line,
For thy good deeds will hate thee all the more.
Thus it must ever be: ye ill may find
The dulcet fig among the crab-tree's store.
Old fame in all the world doth call them blind,
And full of envy, avarice, and pride:
See that thou purge their morals from thy mind.
On thee, one day, such honour shall abide,
Each faction gladly to thy fame would cling;
But to their hunger be the food denied.
Those vile Fiesolans full well may bring
Straw for themselves; nor let them touch the flower
(If any still doth on their dung-hill spring)
Wherein doth live again unto this hour
The seed of those old Romans, who remain'd
When erst was built that nest of lawless power. "
" If I unto my every wish attain'd, "
I said, " within this region shouldst thou not,
Outlaw'd from human nature, be detain'd.
For still within my heart is fix'd the thought
Of thee, who, in the pleasant days gone by,
Me as a loving father oft hast taught
How the deep soul of man doth live for aye:
Thus ever shall my speech the impress bear
Of gratitude to thee, until I die.
That which thou here dost of my fate declare
I keep, with other prophecies, to show
To One who well doth understand; if e'er
Her I behold. I would that thou shouldst know
That if my conscience be but wholly clean,
I care not by what path my fate may go.
No new thing unto me thy words have been;
Thus let the wheel of Fortune onward speed,
And still the peasant drive his plough, I ween. "
And then my Master turn'd him round, and said,
The while he gazed on me with fixid eye:
" In sooth, he listens best who giveth heed. "
Yet, as with Ser Brunetto we pass'd by,
I did not cease, but ask'd who in this fell
Abode were with him in that company.
And he to me: " To know of some is well;
But of the others silence is more fit:
The time were short, each history to tell.
But know, that all who in this zone are set
Were priests, and men of learning and of fame,
And all were foul with the same sin, while yet
They dwelt on earth. Beneath this burning flame,
Francis d'Accorso doth his debt fulfil:
Priscian is there; and one whom, for his shame,
He who is servant of all servants still,
From Arno sent to Bacchiglioni's strand,
Whereon he left the limbs he used so ill.
More I would tell thee; but I now may wend
With thee no longer: for afar I see
New smoke arise from out the burning sand.
A people come with whom I may not be:
Unto my Treasury give heed, I pray;
There still I live: no more I ask of thee. "
And then he turn'd, and swiftly pass'd away;
Like those who with Verona's banner green
Run through the fields: he was, methought, as they
Who win, not lose, the race; so swift his pace, I ween