Part 54

As soon as ever of my second age I was upon the threshold and changed life, Himself from me he took and gave to others.

When from the flesh to spirit I ascended, And beauty and virtue were in me increased, I was to him less dear and less delightful;

And into ways untrue he turned his steps, Pursuing the false images of good, That never any promises fulfil;

Nor prayer for inspiration me availed, By means of which in dreams and otherwise I called him back, so little did he heed them.

So low he fell, that all appliances For his salvation were already short, Save showing him the people of perdition.

For this I visited the gates of death, And unto him, who so far up has led him, My intercessions were with weeping borne.

God’s lofty fiat would be violated, If Lethe should be passed, and if such viands Should tasted be, withouten any scot

Of penitence, that gushes forth in tears.”

Purgatorio: Canto XXXI

“O thou who art beyond the sacred river,” Turning to me the point of her discourse, That edgewise even had seemed to me so keen,

She recommenced, continuing without pause, “Say, say if this be true; to such a charge, Thy own confession needs must be conjoined.”

My faculties were in so great confusion, That the voice moved, but sooner was extinct Than by its organs it was set at large.

Awhile she waited; then she said: “What thinkest? Answer me; for the mournful memories In thee not yet are by the waters injured.”

Confusion and dismay together mingled Forced such a Yes! from out my mouth, that sight Was needful to the understanding of it.

Even as a cross-bow breaks, when ’tis discharged Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark,

So I gave way beneath that heavy burden, Outpouring in a torrent tears and sighs, And the voice flagged upon its passage forth.

Whence she to me: “In those desires of mine Which led thee to the loving of that good, Beyond which there is nothing to aspire to,

What trenches lying traverse or what chains Didst thou discover, that of passing onward Thou shouldst have thus despoiled thee of the hope?

And what allurements or what vantages Upon the forehead of the others showed, That thou shouldst turn thy footsteps unto them?”

After the heaving of a bitter sigh, Hardly had I the voice to make response, And with fatigue my lips did fashion it.

Weeping I said: “The things that present were With their false pleasure turned aside my steps, Soon as your countenance concealed itself.”

And she: “Shouldst thou be silent, or deny What thou confessest, not less manifest Would be thy fault, by such a Judge ’tis known.

But when from one’s own cheeks comes bursting forth The accusal of the sin, in our tribunal Against the edge the wheel doth turn itself.

But still, that thou mayst feel a greater shame For thy transgression, and another time Hearing the Sirens thou mayst be more strong,

Cast down the seed of weeping and attend; So shalt thou hear, how in an opposite way My buried flesh should have directed thee.

Never to thee presented art or nature Pleasure so great as the fair limbs wherein I was enclosed, which scattered are in earth.

And if the highest pleasure thus did fail thee By reason of my death, what mortal thing Should then have drawn thee into its desire?

Thou oughtest verily at the first shaft Of things fallacious to have risen up To follow me, who was no longer such.