Classic Poem

CANTO XVII.

Argument.

Cacciaguida predicts to Dante his exile from Florence, and hospitable reception at the court of the Scaligers.

L IKE him who came to Clymeni, to hear
If true the tale which was against him told,
(And still this story makes a father wear
Harsh semblance ofttimes to a son, too bold
In asking,) thus appear'd I to that lamp
Of sacred splendour, who with me to hold
Discourse, erst changed within the glittering camp
Its site. My Dame thus spake: " Let thy desire
Be now shown forth, seal'd with the inward stamp.
Not that our knowledge need be wafted higher
By this thy speech; but since ye aye must tell
Your thirst, ere ye attain to quench its fire. "
" O plant from whence I spring, and who so well
Hast raised thyself on high, that, as we see
In the triangle there may never dwell
Of obtuse angles twain, even thus by thee
Are seen, and in no vision faint and dim,
The things which lie within Futurity;
While thou dost gaze most fixidly on Him
To whom all Time is Present: erst when led,
By Virgil, through the land of anguish grim,
And upwards on the mountain where the Dead
Are purified, some words that boded ill
For all my future life to me were said.
Yet do I meet the strokes of sorrow still,
With even front; and ever am content
To hear what shall for me be fortune's will:
The dart foreseen doth seem more slowly sent. "
This said I to the light which did begin
First to discourse; and as was the intent
Of Beatrice, I spake. Nor hid within
Ambiguous meanings, which with many a wile,
Ere yet the Lamb of God who bore our sin
Was slain, the 'wilder'd people caught with guile,
But in clear words replied that love patern,
Veil'd, and reveal'd but by its proper smile:
" Contingencies (which from the book diurn
Of your material world do not extend)
Are all depicted in the mind etern;
Yet to necessity they do not bend,
Save as it seems unto the eyes that see
A ship which by the current doth descend.
Thence, as unto the ear sweet harmony
Doth come from organ pipes, on me is shed
The vision of the time prepar'd for thee.
As erst Hippolytus from Athens fled,
Chased by his vile and crafty step-dame's ire,
Even so from Florence shall thy course be sped.
Thus must it be, and thus do some desire;
And soon their end shall be attain'd by those
Who scheme where Christ each day is sold for hire.
The blame of evil deeds still ever goes
Unto the injured; yet shall vengeance bring
A witness to the truth from whence it flows.
Sooth, thou must leave each best belovid thing;
And this is the first arrow thou must bear,
Which from the bow of exile swift shall spring:
And thou must prove what bitter taste doth wear
The bread of others; and how hard the path
To climb and to descend another's stair.
But that which yet a heavier sorrow hath,
Shall be the company of evil fame,
With whom thou in this vale shalt fall: for wrath
Ungrateful, mad, and impious, shall flame
In them against thee; but a little while,
And they, not thou, shall blush thereat with shame.
In truth, their conduct soon shall show how vile
Their brutal nature; which may quickly tell
'Twas best thou did'st not join them in their guile.
The place of refuge where thou first may'st dwell
Shall be the mighty Lombard's courtesy,
Who on the Ladder bears the Eagle well;
And who shall have such tender care of thee,
That, 'twixt you, of the gift and the request,
The thing most often last the first shall be.
And with him thou shalt look on one, imprest
By this strong star, e'en from his hour of birth,
So deeply that his deeds shall ever rest
In storied fame. Men know not yet the worth
Hid by his tender age; for but nine years
These orbs have round him in their path gone forth.
But ere the Gascon's crafty guile appears
Against great Henry, shall some sparks be seen
Of his high virtue; which shall own no fears
Of danger, nor desire of gold. And e'en
His foes the splendour of his high estate
Shall own, and tell the fame thereof, I ween.
Him and his benefits do thou await,
Since from his power full many a change shall spring;
Rich shall be poor, and lowly shall be great.
And bear thou writ within thy mind this thing,
Of him, but tell it not: " and then he spake
What e'en to him who look'd thereon might bring
Some doubts. He added: " Son, this must thou take
As comment on what erst to thee was said;
Behold the guile which soon shall 'gainst thee wake.
Yet would I not that in thy heart be bred
Envy against thy neighbours; since much more
Thy life shall last than till their doom is sped. "
After that blissful soul's discourse was o'er,
So promptly given at first the woof to weave
Within the web which I towards him bore,
Thus I, as one who, doubting, would receive
Some counsel from a friend who all doth see,
And loves, and justly wills: " Well I perceive,
My father, how Time onward spurs to me,
To strike a blow which ever most doth harm
Who most gives way to grief. Thus should I be
Heedful with foresight here myself to arm,
Lest, if I from my best-loved home must go,
My songs should lose all others with ill charm.
Down in the world of never ending woe,
And on the mount from whose bright summit far
My Lady's eyes the upward path did show,
And after, through the sky, from star to star,
Much have I learnt which, if I tell once more,
To many shall it seem as fruits which are
Most bitter: and if timidly the lore
Of truth I hide, I fear my name may die,
For those to whom our days shall be of yore. "
The light where that loved spirit smiled, whom I
Here found, flash'd forth, as in the sunlight clear
A mirror all of gold; then did reply:
" Only the guilty conscience, which doth bear
The burden of its own or kinsmen's shame,
The bitter sharpness of thy words shall fear.
Nathless, apart from speech of lying fame,
Let all thy vision be made manifest,
And let him wince who doth deserve the blame.
For if thy voice, in sooth, may some molest
At the first taste, yet vital nutriment
It well shall leave, when they that food digest.
Then let thy cry be as the wind, still sent
With strongest force the mountain-peak to smite:
This of thy honour is great argument.
And mid those spheres are shown to thee aright,
E'en on the mount, and in the vale of woe,
Those who of fame have gained the utmost height:
For, to the souls of those who hear thee, flow
Nor faith nor profit from such tales as bear
Their roots deep-hidden, and no sign do show;
Nor yet for other precept whence no proofs appear. "