DANTE'S SUBLIME COMEDY: PURGATORY: Chapter 31
CHAPTER 31: The Cleansing.
“You on the far side of this sacred stream
– ”
(she
thrust this sharp point of her speech at me)
“have
heard my accusation. Is it true?” 3
Such weakness and confusion mastered me
I struggled for
a word but none would come.
She
let me stand there dumb a while, then said, 6
“Reply. Say what you think. Bad memories
have
not yet been destroyed by Lethe’s drink.”
Fear
piercing my confusion forced a “Yes” 9
so faint only her eyes could know I spoke.
I
stood like a poor archer whose bow broke
letting
the arrow go, so it fell short. 12
Under such fierce assault more tears and
sobs
were
now my sole resort. Again she spoke.
“When
love of me led you to love good things 15
beyond which nothing better can be found,
what
road blocks, spike-topped fences or deep moats
stopped
you from going onward as you should? 18
What tempted you to leave the path of good?”
My
lips had trouble shaping a reply
but
after a deep sigh I stammered this. 21
“When I lost hope of seeing you again
domestic
life and local politics
seemed
adequate distractions from my pain. 24
Also some erotic dissipation.”
Said she, “If
you had tried to justify
facts
you have just declared and this court knows, 27
and done that shamelessly with a dry face,
my
condemnation would conclude your case.
Not
so. To bear the shame of your offense 30
and help resist all future syren calls,
stop weeping: and
hear what you should have learned
from
my dead body. Yes, nature and art 33
had never shown such beauty as was mine
which crumbled
into dust. Since death stole that,
why
dally with more bodies that must die? 36
I went to Heaven. You should have prepared
to join us here
where death does not exist,
and
let no other women hold you back 39
where all death-strokes must fall.” With
downcast head
I stood, my
guilt confessed, reproved. She said,
“Since
hearing gives you grief, look up for more. 42
Come, elevate your beard.” No wind tore up
tough oak tree
by it’s roots slower than I
lifted
my rough chin at her mocking words. 45
Angels had stopped casting their cloud of
blooms.
Beatrice stood
gazing with enraptured face
upon
the creature harnessed to her car – 48
the griffin with two natures in one soul.
Beyond the Lethé
stream, beneath her veil
she
was more beautiful than when on earth 51
her face had been the loveliest of all.
The nettle of
remorse so stung me that
hatred
of all I ever liked but she, 54
with such self-loathing, cut into my heart
I lost idea of
self and time and place.
When
heart at last restored some outward sense 57
the lady first encountered in the wood
was saying,
“Hold on! Don’t let go my hand.”
I
lay throat deep in Lethe”s cleansing stream, 60
but floating and upheld by one so light,
she walked upon
the stream, her arm so strong
the
hand was firmly pulling me along. 63
Near the far bank in words I can’t recall
she
sang about forgiveness, held my head,
plunged
it beneath the stream, and so I drank, 66
then free of guilt at last could step
ashore.
The
four nymphs by the nearest chariot wheel
raised
arms and linked their hands above my head. 69
“In Heaven we appear as stars,” they said,
“and
before Beatrice arrived on earth
were
chosen as her serving maidens here. 72
Now we will lead you round to see her eyes,
but
fully to enjoy the light in them
hear
the three dancers by the other wheel 75
who see more deeply into them than we.”
Led
there, I stood before the griffin’s breast,
staring
at Beatrice in the car behind. 78
Her serving maids then sang in unison,
“Now
you will see the eyes of emerald
which
pierced you with love’s dart. Don’t fear to gaze.” 81
Since the veil did not hide her eyes I
stared
and
saw within their depth the two-fold beast
like
sun’s reflection in a looking glass. 84
Reader, this wonderful and lovely sight –
this
figure changing in my lover’s eyes,
now
with a Heavenly aspect, now the earth’s 87
was nourishing, like a delicious meal
that
never would reduce true appetite.
Then
the three virtues from the other wheel, 90
Faith, Hope and Love, danced around me and
sang,
“O Beatrice,
unveil your lovely face.
To
gratify this faithful traveller 93
who’s journeyed more than any man alive.
down
through the world and up to this great height
to look on the
full glory of your Grace!” 96
Though drunk with language’s magnificence
what
poet, pale from studying his art
won’t find
himself unable to impart
the greatest thing now present to his
sense? 100
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home