Classic Poem

CANTO XXVII

Quieted now, the flame rose all upright,
Having no more to speak, and with the accord
Of the sweet poet was moving from our sight
When another, that came on behind it, toward
Its summit caused us to direct our eyes
Because of the wild sound that from it roared.
As the Sicilian bull, that with the cries
Of him (and it was justice) bellowed first
Who with his file had shaped it in that guise,
Kept bellowing as the sufferer's voice outburst,
So that although it was of brass compact
The metal seemed with agony transpierced;
Thus from the fire at first, since a way lacked
For issue, the despairing words up-cast
Were changed into its language by the tract,
But after they had found their road at last
Up to the tip, imparting to the flame
The trembling the tongue gave them as they passed,
We heard it say: " O thou at whom I aim
My voice, who used'st speech of Lombardy
Saying, " Now go, no more of thee I claim,"
Though over-tardy I have come, maybe,
Speak with me, so it not irk thee and if thou wilt:
Thou seest, although I burn, it irks not me.
If into this blind world thou art but now spilt
From that sweet Latian country whence I bore
Hither the entire burden of my guilt,
Tell me if Romagna now have peace or war;
For I was of the mountains there, between
Urbino and where the springs of Tiber pour. "
Still all attentive downward did I lean,
When soft my Leader touched me on the side
Saying, " Speak thou; a Latian this has been. "
To him without ado then I replied,
Having no need my answer to prepare:
" O spirit that there enshrouded dost abide,
Not now is thy Romagna, and was not e'er,
Without war in her tyrants' hearts; but blood
Of battle in open field I left not there.
Ravenna stands as long years it hath stood,
Where covering Cervia with vans outspread
Polenta's Eagle over it doth brood.
The city that of the French made slaughter red
And ere that proved its fortitude so long,
Under the Green Claws bleeds as once it bled.
The old mastiff of Verrucchio and the young,
Who brought Montagna into such evil state,
After their wont still tear where they have clung.
Guideth Lamone's and Santerno's fate
The Lion of the white lair, who his side
Changes against the season, early or late.
And that city the Savio flows beside,
Even as it lies between the hill and plain,
Tyranny and freedom do its life divide.
Now who thou art declare to us, nor refrain
In hardness more than others have been hard,
So may thy name on earth its front maintain. "
When for awhile the flame had shrilled and roared
After its manner, the sharp tip it swayed
This way and that, and then this breath outpoured:
" If I believed that my reply were made
To one who could revisit earth, this flame
Would be at rest, and its commotion laid.
But seeing that alive none ever came
Back from this deep, if it be truth I hear,
I answer without dread of injured fame.
I was a man of arms, then Cordelier,
Hoping, so girdled, in my ways to amend;
And certainly that hope had come entire
But for the Great Priest, whom may ill attend,
Who brought me back into my sins of old,
And how and why I'll have thee comprehend.
Whilst I was bones and pulp and in the mould
My mother made for me, my deeds were those
Of the sly fox, not of the lion bold.
All cunning stratagems and words that gloze
I knew, and mastered the uses of deceit
So that the noise of it to the world's end goes.
When of my years that period was complete
Which brings the sager mind, and maketh fain
To lower the sail and gather in the sheet,
That which before had pleased me now was pain,
And from the world a penitent I withdrew.
Ah, miserable! it should have been my gain.
The prince of the new Pharisees, who knew
How to wage war beside the Lateran
And not with Saracen and not with Jew,
For each one of his foes was Christian,
And none to conquer Acre's fort had gone
Nor trafficked in the land of the Soldan,
Regarding neither the office of his throne
Nor the Holy Orders, nor in me that cord
Which used to make lean those that girt it on,
As on Soracte Constantine implored
Sylvester's art his leprosy to heal,
So for my mastery me this man conjured
To cure his prideful fever, and made appeal
To me for counsel: and I kept me mute,
For like a drunkard seemed his words to reel.
And then he spoke: " Let not thy heart misdoubt;
Here I absolve thee. Now instruct me how I
May Palestrina from the earth uproot.
Heaven, as thou knowest, I have authority
To unlock and lock: for double is the key,
Which he who came before me prized not high."
Then that strong argument enforcing me
To think silence the worst counsel of all,
I said, " Since, Father, I am cleansed by thee
Of that guilt into which I now must fall,
Wouldst thou in the high seat hold triumphant head,
Make large thy promise, its fulfilment small."
Francis came afterwards, when I was dead,
To take me; and one of the Black Cherubim
Denied him: " Thou wilt do me wrong," he said.
" Among my minions must I carry him
Because he gave the treacherous advice,
Since when by the hair I have held him, every limb.
For the unrepentant unabsolved dies,
Nor can a soul repent and will the sin
At once; the contradiction this denies."
O wretched me! How shook I in my skin
When seizing me he said: " Thou thoughtest not,
Maybe, that I had a logician been!"
To Minos then he bore me; he straightway got
His tail eight times around his horny side
And biting on it then with anger hot,
" To the thievish fire this sinner goes," he cried.
Therefore I, where thou seist me, am borne
Lost in this swathing, and in grief abide. "
When he had ended thus his words forlorn,
The flame departed sorrowing, all frayed
With struggle and tossing upward its sharp horn.
I and my Guide passed on, and slowly made
Along the cliff to the other arch up-built
Over the fosse in which their fee is paid
To those who, sowing discord, harvest guilt.