Part 41

She with her prayers devout and with her sighs Has drawn me from the coast where one where one awaits, And from the other circles set me free.

So much more dear and pleasing is to God My little widow, whom so much I loved, As in good works she is the more alone;

For the Barbagia of Sardinia By far more modest in its women is Than the Barbagia I have left her in.

O brother sweet, what wilt thou have me say? A future time is in my sight already, To which this hour will not be very old,

When from the pulpit shall be interdicted To the unblushing womankind of Florence To go about displaying breast and paps.

What savages were e’er, what Saracens, Who stood in need, to make them covered go, Of spiritual or other discipline?

But if the shameless women were assured Of what swift Heaven prepares for them, already Wide open would they have their mouths to howl;

For if my foresight here deceive me not, They shall be sad ere he has bearded cheeks Who now is hushed to sleep with lullaby.

O brother, now no longer hide thee from me; See that not only I, but all these people Are gazing there, where thou dost veil the sun.”

Whence I to him: “If thou bring back to mind What thou with me hast been and I with thee, The present memory will be grievous still.

Out of that life he turned me back who goes In front of me, two days agone when round The sister of him yonder showed herself,”

And to the sun I pointed. “Through the deep Night of the truly dead has this one led me, With this true flesh, that follows after him.

Thence his encouragements have led me up, Ascending and still circling round the mount That you doth straighten, whom the world made crooked.

He says that he will bear me company, Till I shall be where Beatrice will be; There it behoves me to remain without him.

This is Virgilius, who thus says to me,” And him I pointed at; “the other is That shade for whom just now shook every slope

Your realm, that from itself discharges him.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXIV

Nor speech the going, nor the going that Slackened; but talking we went bravely on, Even as a vessel urged by a good wind.

And shadows, that appeared things doubly dead, From out the sepulchres of their eyes betrayed Wonder at me, aware that I was living.

And I, continuing my colloquy, Said: “Peradventure he goes up more slowly Than he would do, for other people’s sake.

But tell me, if thou knowest, where is Piccarda; Tell me if any one of note I see Among this folk that gazes at me so.”

“My sister, who, ’twixt beautiful and good, I know not which was more, triumphs rejoicing Already in her crown on high Olympus.”

So said he first, and then: “’Tis not forbidden To name each other here, so milked away Is our resemblance by our dieting.

This,” pointing with his finger, “is Buonagiunta, Buonagiunta, of Lucca; and that face Beyond him there, more peaked than the others,

Has held the holy Church within his arms; From Tours was he, and purges by his fasting Bolsena’s eels and the Vernaccia wine.”

He named me many others one by one; And all contented seemed at being named, So that for this I saw not one dark look.

I saw for hunger bite the empty air Ubaldin dalla Pila, and Boniface, Who with his crook had pastured many people.

I saw Messer Marchese, who had leisure Once at Forli for drinking with less dryness, And he was one who ne’er felt satisfied.