| PURGATORIO CANTO 28 Mandelbaum Tr. and Longfellow Tr. | Notes | Ann. |
Now keen to search within, to search around that forest-dense, alive with green, divine- which tempered the new day before my eyes, EAGER already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and living-green, Which tempered to the eyes the new-born day, |
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without delay, I left behind the rise and took the plain, advancing slowly, slowly across the ground where every part was fragrant. Withouten more delay I left the bank, Taking the level country slowly, slowly Over the soil that everywhere breathes fragrance. |
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A gentle breeze, which did not seem to vary within itself, was striking at my brow but with no greater force than a kind wind's, A softly-breathing air, that no mutation Had in itself, upon the forehead smote me No heavier blow than of a gentle wind, |
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a wind that made the trembling boughs-they all bent eagerly-incline in the direction of morning shadows from the holy mountain; Whereat the branches, lightly tremulous, Did all of them bow downward toward that side Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain; |
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but they were not deflected with such force as to disturb the little birds upon the branches in the practice of their arts; Yet not from their upright direction swayed, So that the little birds upon their tops Should leave the practice of each art of theirs; |
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for to the leaves, with song, birds welcomed those first hours of the morning joyously, and leaves supplied the burden to their rhymes- But with full ravishment the hours of prime, Singing, received they in the midst of leaves, That ever bore a burden to their rhymes, |
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just like the wind that sounds from branch to branch along the shore of Classe, through the pines when Aeolus has set Sirocco loose. Such as from branch to branch goes gathering on Through the pine forest on the shore of Chiassi, When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco. |
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Now, though my steps were slow, I'd gone so far into the ancient forest that I could no longer see where I had made my entry; Already my slow steps had carried me Into the ancient wood so far, that I Could not perceive where I had entered it |
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and there I came upon a stream that blocked the path of my advance; its little waves bent to the left the grass along its banks. 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 |
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All of the purest waters here on earth, when matched against that stream, would seem to be touched by impurity; it hides no thing- All waters that on earth most limpid are Would seem to have within themselves some mixture Compared with that which nothing doth conceal, |
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that stream-although it moves, dark, dark, beneath the never-ending shadows, which allow no ray of sun or moon to reach those waters. 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. |
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I halted, and I set my eyes upon the farther bank, to look at the abundant variety of newly-flowered boughs; With feet I stayed, and with mine eyes I passed Beyond the rivulet, to look upon The great variety of the fresh may. |
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and there, just like a thing that, in appearing most suddenly, repels all other thoughts, so great is the astonishment it brings, And there appeared to me (even as appears Suddenly something that doth turn aside Through very wonder every other thought) |
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I saw a solitary woman moving, singing, and gathering up flower on flower- the flowers that colored all of her pathway. A lady all alone, who went along Singing and culling floweret after floweret, With which her pathway was all painted over. |
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"I pray you, lovely lady, you who warm yourself with rays of love, if I may trust your looks-which often evidence the heart- "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, |
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may it please you," I asked of her, "to move ahead and closer to this river, so that I may understand what you are singing. 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. |
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You have reminded me of where and what- just when her mother was deprived of her and she deprived of spring-Proserpina was." Thou makest me remember where and what Proserpina that moment was when lost Her mother her, and she herself the Spring." |
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As, when she turns, a woman, dancing, keeps her soles close to the ground and to each other and scarcely lets one foot precede the other, As turns herself, with feet together pressed And to the ground, a lady who is dancing, And hardly puts one foot before the other, |
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so did she turn, upon the little red and yellow flowers, to me, no differently than would a virgin, lowering chaste eyes. On the vermilion and the yellow flowerets She turned towards me, not in other wise Than maiden who her modest eyes casts down; |
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I had beseeched, and I was satisfied, for she approached so close that the sweet sound that reached me then became intelligible. And my entreaties made to be content, So near approaching, that the dulcet sound Came unto me together with its meaning |
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No sooner had she reached the point where that fair river's waves could barely bathe the grass, than she gave me this gift: lifting her eyes. 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. |
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I do not think a light so bright had shone beneath the lids of Venus when her son pierced her in extraordinary fashion. 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! |
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Erect, along the farther bank, she smiled, her hands entwining varicolored flowers, which that high land, needing no seed, engenders. Erect upon the other bank she smiled, Bearing full many colours in her hands. Which that high land produces without seed. |
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The river kept us just three steps apart; but even Hellespont, where Xerxes crossed- a case that still curbs all men's arrogance- Apart three paces did the river make us; But Hellespont, where Xerxes passed across, (A curb still to all human arrogance,) |
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did not provoke more hatred in Leander when rough seas ran from Abydos to Sestos, than hatred I bestowed upon that river More hatred from Leander did not suffer For rolling between Sestos and Abydos, Than that from me, because it oped not then. |
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when it refused to open. She began: "You are new here and may-because I smile in this place, chosen to be mankind's nest- "Ye are new-comers; and because I smile," Began she, "peradventure, in this place Elect to human nature for its nest, |
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wonder, perplexed, unable to detect the cause; but light to clear your intellect is in the psalm beginning 'Delectasti.' Some apprehension keeps you marvelling; But the psalm Delectasti giveth light Which has the power to uncloud your intellect. |
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And you, who have stepped forward, who beseeched me, tell me if you'd hear more; I have come ready for all your questions till you're satisfied." 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." |
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I said: "The water and the murmuring forest contend, in me, against the recent credence I gave to words denying their existence." "The water," said I, "and the forest's sound, Are combating within me my new faith In something which I heard opposed to this." |
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At this, she said: "I'll tell you how the source of your amazement has its special cause; I'll clear the cloud that's left you so distraught. 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. |
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The Highest Good, whose sole joy is Himself, made man to be-and to enact-good; He gave man this place as pledge of endless peace. The Good Supreme, sole in itself delighting, Created man good, and this goodly place Gave him as hansel of eternal peace. |
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Man's fault made brief his stay here; and man's fault made him exchange frank laughter and sweet sport for lamentation and for anxiousness. By his default short while he sojourned here; By his default to weeping and to toil He changed his innocent laughter and sweet play. |
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Below this mountain, land and water vapors, which follow heat as far as they are able, produce their perturbations; to prevent That the disturbance which below is made By exhalations of the land and water, (Which far as may be follow after heat,) |
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them from molesting man placed here, this mountain rose up this close to Heaven; from the point where its gate locks, it's free of such disturbance. 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. |
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Now, since all of the atmosphere revolves within a circle, moved by the first circling, unless its round is broken at some point, Now since the universal atmosphere Turns in a circuit with the primal motion Unless the circle is broken on some side, |
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against this height, which stands completely free within the living air, that motion strikes; and since these woods are dense, they echo it. Upon this height, that all is disengaged In living ether, doth this motion strike And make the forest sound, for it is dense; |
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And when a plant is struck, its power is such that it impregnates air with seeding force; the air, revolving, casts this seed abroad; And so much power the stricken plant possesses That with its virtue it impregns the air, And this, revolving, scatters it around; |
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the other hemisphere, depending on the nature of its land and sky, conceives and bears, from diverse powers, diverse trees. And yonder earth, according as 'tis worthy In self or in its clime, conceives and bears Of divers qualities the divers trees; |
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If what I've said were known, you would not need to be amazed on earth when growing things take root but have no seed that can be seen. It should not seem a marvel then on earth, This being heard, whenever any plant Without seed manifest there taketh root. |
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And you must know: the holy plain on which you find yourself is full of every seed; and it has fruit that-there-cannot be gathered. 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. |
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The water that you see does not spring from a vein that vapor-cold-condensed-restores, like rivers that acquire or lose their force; 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 |
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it issues from a pure and changeless fountain, which by the will of God regains as much as, on two sides, it pours and it divides. But issues from a fountain safe and certain, Which by the will of God as much regains As it discharges, open on two sides. |
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On this side it descends with power to end one's memory of sin; and on the other, it can restore recall of each good deed. Upon this side with virtue it descends, Which takes away all memory of sin; On that, of every good deed done restores it. |
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To one side, it is Lethe; on the other, Eunoe; neither stream is efficacious unless the other's waters have been tasted: Here Lethe, as upon the other side Eunoe, it is called; and worketh not If first on either side it be not tasted. |
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their savor is above all other sweetness. Although your thirst might well be satisfied even if I revealed no more to you, This every other savour doth transcend; And notwithstanding slaked so far may be Thy thirst, that I reveal to thee no more, |
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I'll give you freely, too, a corollary; nor do I think my words will be less welcome to you if they extend beyond my promise. 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. |
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Those ancients who in poetry presented the golden age, who sang its happy state, perhaps, in their Parnassus, dreamt this place. Those who in ancient times have feigned in song The Age of Gold and its felicity, Dreamed of this place perhaps upon Parnassus. |
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Here, mankind's root was innocent; and here were every fruit and never-ending spring; these streams-the nectar of which poets sing." Here was the human race in innocence; Here evermore was Spring, and every fruit; This is the nectar of which each one speaks." |
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Then I turned round completely, and I faced my poets; I could see that they had heard with smiles this final corollary spoken; 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; |
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that done, my eyes returned to the fair woman. Then to the beautiful lady turned mine eyes. |
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