Purgatory: Canto XXXI. The Earthly Paradise.--Reproachful Discourse Of Beatrice, Amid Confession Of Dante.
The Earthly Paradise.--Reproachful discourse of
Beatrice, amid confession of Dante.--Passage of Lethe.--Appeal of
the Virtues to Beatrice.--Her Unveiling.
"O thou who art on the further side of the sacred river," turning
her speech with the point to me, which only by the edge had
seemed to me keen, she began anew, going on without delay, "say,
say, if this is true: to so great an accusation it behoves that
thine own confession be conjoined." My power was so confused,
that the voice moved, and became extinct before it could be
released by its organs. A little she bore it; then she said,
"What thinkest thou? Reply to me; for the sad memories in thee
are not yet injured by the water."[1] Confusion and fear together
mingled forced such a "Yes" from out my mouth, that the eyes were
needed for the understanding of it.
[1] Are still vivid, not yet obliterated by the water of Lethe.
As a cross-bow breaks its cord and its bow when it shoots with
too great tension, and with less force the shaft hits the mark,
so did I burst under that heavy load, pouring forth tears and
sighs, and the voice slackened along its passage. Whereupon she
to me, "Within those desires of mine[1] that were leading thee to
love the Good beyond which there is nothing whereto man may
aspire, what trenches running traverse, or what chains didst thou
find, for which thou wert obliged thus to abandon the hope of
passing onward? And what enticements, or what advantages on the
brow of the others were displayed,[2] for which thou wert obliged
to court them?" After the drawing of a bitter sigh, hardly had I
the voice that answered, and the lips with difficulty gave it
form. Weeping, I said, "The present things with their false
pleasure turned my steps, soon as your face was hidden." And she:
"Hadst thou been silent, or hadst thou denied that which thou
dost confess, thy fault would be not less noted, by such a Judge
is it known. But when the accusation of the sin, bursts from
one's own cheek, in our court the wheel turns itself back against
the edge. But yet, that thou mayst now bear shame for thy error,
and that another time, hearing the Sirens, thou mayst be
stronger, hay aside the seed of weeping, and listen; so shalt
thou hear how in opposite direction my buried flesh ought to have
moved thee. Never did nature or art present to thee pleasure such
as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed; and they are scattered
in earth. And if the supreme pleasure thus failed thee through
my death, what mortal thing ought then to have drawn thee into
its desire? Forsooth thou oughtest, at the first arrow of things
deceitful, to have risen up, following me who was no longer such.
Nor should thy wings have weighed thee downward to await more
blows, either girl or other vanity of so brief a use. The young
little bird awaits two or three; but before the eyes of the
full-fledged, the net is spread in vain, the arrow shot."
[1] Inspired by me.
[2] The false pleasures of the world.
As children, ashamed, dumb, with eyes upon the ground, stand
listening and conscience-stricken and repentant, so was I
standing. And she said, "Since through hearing thou art grieved,
lift up thy beard, and thou shalt receive more grief in seeing."
With less resistance is a sturdy oak uprooted by a native wind,
or by one from the land of Iarbas,[1] than I raised up my chin at
her command; and when by the beard she asked for my eyes, truly I
recognized the venom of the argument.[2] And as my face stretched
upward, my sight perceived that those primal creatures were
resting from their strewing, and my eyes, still little assured,
saw Beatrice turned toward the animal that is only one person in
two natures.[3] Beneath her veil and beyond the stream she seemed
to me more to surpass her ancient self, than she surpassed the
others here when she was here. So pricked me there the nettle of
repentance, that of all other things the one which most turned me
aside unto its love became most hostile to me.[4]
[1] From Numidia, of which Iarbas was king.
[2] Because indicating the lack of that wisdom which should
pertain to manhood.
[3] The griffon.
[4] That object which had most seduced me from the love of
Beatrice was now the most hateful to me.
Such contrition stung my heart that I fell overcome; and what I
then became she knows who afforded me the cause.
Then, when my heart restored my outward faculties, I saw above me
the lady whom I had found alone,[1] and she was saying, "Hold me,
hold me." She had drawn me into the stream up to the throat, and
dragging me behind was moving upon the water light as a shuttle.
When I was near the blessed shore, "Asperges me"[2] I heard so
sweetly that I cannot remember it, far less can write it. The
beautiful lady opened her arms, clasped my head, and plunged me
in where it behoved that I should swallow the water.[3] Then she
took me, and, thus bathed, brought me within the dance of the
four beautiful ones,[4] and each of them covered me with her arm.
"Here we are nymphs, and in heaven we are stars: ere Beatrice had
descended to the world we were ordained unto her for her
handmaids. We will head thee to her eyes; but in the joyous light
which is within them, the three yonder who deeper gaze shall make
keen thine own."[5] Thus singing, they began; and then to the
breast of the griffon they led me with them, where Beatrice was
standing turned toward us. They said, "See that thou sparest not
thy sight: we have placed thee before the emeralds whence Love of
old drew his arrows upon thee." A thousand desires hotter than
flame bound my eyes to the relucent eyes which only upon the
griffon were standing fixed. As the sun in a mirror, not
otherwise the twofold animal was gleaming therewithin, now with
one, now with another mode.[6] Think, Reader, if I marvelled when
I saw the thing stand quiet in itself, while in its image it was
transmuting itself.
[1] Matilda.
[2] The first words of the seventh verse of the fifty-first
Psalm: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and
I shall be whiter than snow."
[3] The drinking of the waters of Lethe which obliterate the
memory of sin.
[4] The four Cardinal Virtues.
[5] The Cardinal Virtues lead up to Theology, or the knowledge of
Divine things, but the Evangelic Virtues are needed to penetrate
within them.
[6] Mode of being,--the divine and the human.
While, full of amazement and glad, my soul was tasting that food
which, sating of itself, causes hunger for itself, the other
three, showing themselves in their bearing of loftier order,
came forward dancing to their angelic melody. "Turn, Beatrice,
turn thy holy eyes," was their song, "upon thy faithful one, who
to see thee has taken so many steps. For grace do us the grace
that thou unveil to hum thy mouth, so that he may discern the
second beauty which thou concealest."[1]
[1] "The eyes of Wisdom are her demonstrations by which one sees
the truth most surely; and her smile is her persuasions in which
the interior light of Wisdom is displayed without any veil; and
in these two is felt that loftiest pleasure of Beatitude, which
is the chief good in Paradise."--Convito, iii 15.
Oh splendor of living light eternal! Who hath become so pallid
under the shadow of Parnassus, or hath so drunk at its cistern,
that he would not seem to have his mind encumbered, trying to
represent thee as thou didst appear there where in harmony the
heaven overshadows thee when in the open air thou didst thyself
disclose?
Beatrice, amid confession of Dante.--Passage of Lethe.--Appeal of
the Virtues to Beatrice.--Her Unveiling.
"O thou who art on the further side of the sacred river," turning
her speech with the point to me, which only by the edge had
seemed to me keen, she began anew, going on without delay, "say,
say, if this is true: to so great an accusation it behoves that
thine own confession be conjoined." My power was so confused,
that the voice moved, and became extinct before it could be
released by its organs. A little she bore it; then she said,
"What thinkest thou? Reply to me; for the sad memories in thee
are not yet injured by the water."[1] Confusion and fear together
mingled forced such a "Yes" from out my mouth, that the eyes were
needed for the understanding of it.
[1] Are still vivid, not yet obliterated by the water of Lethe.
As a cross-bow breaks its cord and its bow when it shoots with
too great tension, and with less force the shaft hits the mark,
so did I burst under that heavy load, pouring forth tears and
sighs, and the voice slackened along its passage. Whereupon she
to me, "Within those desires of mine[1] that were leading thee to
love the Good beyond which there is nothing whereto man may
aspire, what trenches running traverse, or what chains didst thou
find, for which thou wert obliged thus to abandon the hope of
passing onward? And what enticements, or what advantages on the
brow of the others were displayed,[2] for which thou wert obliged
to court them?" After the drawing of a bitter sigh, hardly had I
the voice that answered, and the lips with difficulty gave it
form. Weeping, I said, "The present things with their false
pleasure turned my steps, soon as your face was hidden." And she:
"Hadst thou been silent, or hadst thou denied that which thou
dost confess, thy fault would be not less noted, by such a Judge
is it known. But when the accusation of the sin, bursts from
one's own cheek, in our court the wheel turns itself back against
the edge. But yet, that thou mayst now bear shame for thy error,
and that another time, hearing the Sirens, thou mayst be
stronger, hay aside the seed of weeping, and listen; so shalt
thou hear how in opposite direction my buried flesh ought to have
moved thee. Never did nature or art present to thee pleasure such
as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed; and they are scattered
in earth. And if the supreme pleasure thus failed thee through
my death, what mortal thing ought then to have drawn thee into
its desire? Forsooth thou oughtest, at the first arrow of things
deceitful, to have risen up, following me who was no longer such.
Nor should thy wings have weighed thee downward to await more
blows, either girl or other vanity of so brief a use. The young
little bird awaits two or three; but before the eyes of the
full-fledged, the net is spread in vain, the arrow shot."
[1] Inspired by me.
[2] The false pleasures of the world.
As children, ashamed, dumb, with eyes upon the ground, stand
listening and conscience-stricken and repentant, so was I
standing. And she said, "Since through hearing thou art grieved,
lift up thy beard, and thou shalt receive more grief in seeing."
With less resistance is a sturdy oak uprooted by a native wind,
or by one from the land of Iarbas,[1] than I raised up my chin at
her command; and when by the beard she asked for my eyes, truly I
recognized the venom of the argument.[2] And as my face stretched
upward, my sight perceived that those primal creatures were
resting from their strewing, and my eyes, still little assured,
saw Beatrice turned toward the animal that is only one person in
two natures.[3] Beneath her veil and beyond the stream she seemed
to me more to surpass her ancient self, than she surpassed the
others here when she was here. So pricked me there the nettle of
repentance, that of all other things the one which most turned me
aside unto its love became most hostile to me.[4]
[1] From Numidia, of which Iarbas was king.
[2] Because indicating the lack of that wisdom which should
pertain to manhood.
[3] The griffon.
[4] That object which had most seduced me from the love of
Beatrice was now the most hateful to me.
Such contrition stung my heart that I fell overcome; and what I
then became she knows who afforded me the cause.
Then, when my heart restored my outward faculties, I saw above me
the lady whom I had found alone,[1] and she was saying, "Hold me,
hold me." She had drawn me into the stream up to the throat, and
dragging me behind was moving upon the water light as a shuttle.
When I was near the blessed shore, "Asperges me"[2] I heard so
sweetly that I cannot remember it, far less can write it. The
beautiful lady opened her arms, clasped my head, and plunged me
in where it behoved that I should swallow the water.[3] Then she
took me, and, thus bathed, brought me within the dance of the
four beautiful ones,[4] and each of them covered me with her arm.
"Here we are nymphs, and in heaven we are stars: ere Beatrice had
descended to the world we were ordained unto her for her
handmaids. We will head thee to her eyes; but in the joyous light
which is within them, the three yonder who deeper gaze shall make
keen thine own."[5] Thus singing, they began; and then to the
breast of the griffon they led me with them, where Beatrice was
standing turned toward us. They said, "See that thou sparest not
thy sight: we have placed thee before the emeralds whence Love of
old drew his arrows upon thee." A thousand desires hotter than
flame bound my eyes to the relucent eyes which only upon the
griffon were standing fixed. As the sun in a mirror, not
otherwise the twofold animal was gleaming therewithin, now with
one, now with another mode.[6] Think, Reader, if I marvelled when
I saw the thing stand quiet in itself, while in its image it was
transmuting itself.
[1] Matilda.
[2] The first words of the seventh verse of the fifty-first
Psalm: "Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and
I shall be whiter than snow."
[3] The drinking of the waters of Lethe which obliterate the
memory of sin.
[4] The four Cardinal Virtues.
[5] The Cardinal Virtues lead up to Theology, or the knowledge of
Divine things, but the Evangelic Virtues are needed to penetrate
within them.
[6] Mode of being,--the divine and the human.
While, full of amazement and glad, my soul was tasting that food
which, sating of itself, causes hunger for itself, the other
three, showing themselves in their bearing of loftier order,
came forward dancing to their angelic melody. "Turn, Beatrice,
turn thy holy eyes," was their song, "upon thy faithful one, who
to see thee has taken so many steps. For grace do us the grace
that thou unveil to hum thy mouth, so that he may discern the
second beauty which thou concealest."[1]
[1] "The eyes of Wisdom are her demonstrations by which one sees
the truth most surely; and her smile is her persuasions in which
the interior light of Wisdom is displayed without any veil; and
in these two is felt that loftiest pleasure of Beatitude, which
is the chief good in Paradise."--Convito, iii 15.
Oh splendor of living light eternal! Who hath become so pallid
under the shadow of Parnassus, or hath so drunk at its cistern,
that he would not seem to have his mind encumbered, trying to
represent thee as thou didst appear there where in harmony the
heaven overshadows thee when in the open air thou didst thyself
disclose?
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