Our speed check'd not our words, nor they more slow
Our footsteps made; but on we swiftly sped,
As ships that driven before fresh breezes go:
And still those Shades, who seem'd as things twice dead,
Gazed through the hollow caverns of their eyes,
In wonder that I yet had life. I said,
Continuing my speech: “This soul may rise
More slowly unto Heaven, it well may be,
Even for the cause which in another lies.
But where Piccarda is, now tell to me;
And say if some a name of note do bear,
Among the Shades who gaze so fixëdly.”
“My sister, who was erst so good and fair,
I know not which the most, in the bright ray
Of Paradise her golden crown doth wear.”
This first was said; then: “In this zone we may
Each name his brother; since, as by disease,
Fell hunger hath our semblance worn away.
This Shade is Buonagiunta, the Lucchese;”
(And, with his hand, towards him made a sign),
“And he whose meagreness doth most displease,
Once Holy Church embraced; he and his line
Erst were of Tours: here is his penance done,
E'en for Bolsena's eels, and dainty wine,
Vernaccia hight.” And others, one by one,
He show'd, and to be named was each content,
And sombre looks among them there were none.
There Ubaldin di Pila seem'd intent
Vainly to gnaw with hungry teeth; and there
Was Boniface, to whom on earth was lent
Of many souls the pastoral rule and care.
And him I saw, who erst within Forli,
Drank the good wine with lesser thirst than here,
And yet therewith ne'er knew satiety.
Mine eyes on the Lucchese I now did strain,
More eagerly than on the rest; and he
Seem'd that of me like knowledge he would gain.
Gentucca then he murmur'd; to mine ear
Came the low sound, as dull'd by hunger's pain;
And then I said: “O soul, who dost appear
Thus to desire to tell me all thy tale,
Uplift thy voice, that I may rightly hear.”
“A woman now is born who yet no veil
Doth wear,” he said, “and she will make thee prize
My city, although men against it rail.
Go, with this prophecy before thine eyes;
For if my whisper thee to doubt doth move,
Within the future the fulfilment lies.
But say, if I the wondrous fortune prove
Of seeing him who in new rhyme hath sung,
Fair ladies who have hearts attuned to love.”
I answer'd: “I in very truth am one
Who when my soul is with love's breathings fraught,
Sing as the thoughts within my heart have sprung.”
“O brother, now I see,” he said, “the knot
That erst Guittonë and the notary kept,
And me, from the sweet music of thy thought.
Well do I see how thy bold pinions swept,
Fast-following the dictator of thy strain,
While ours, in sooth, all tame and powerless slept.
And he who to more knowledge would attain,
Sees how apart the new from ancient style,
And to be silent, in content, is fain.”
Even as the birds who winter by the Nile,
In flocks oft linger on their onward way,
Then fly, with sudden haste, in a long file;
Thus all those spirits quickly turn'd away,
With footsteps lighter for their frames so lean,
And for the longing that within them lay.
And as the man who hath aweary been
With running, stays his steps, until the haste
And flutterings of his breath be calm'd; I ween,
Thus did Foresë, till the rest were past,
While by my side he journey'd; then he said:
“When shall I see thee once again at last?”
I spake: “Now know I not how long my thread
Of life; yet may I not so soon return,
As to this shore my longing shall be led.
Because the city of my earthly bourne
More barren is of good, from hour to hour,
Seeming as if it, ruin'd, soon should mourn.”
He said: “The man whose guilt hath been most sore,
Dragg'd by his horse I see upon the ground,
Anear the vale whence ye return no more.
His steed more swiftly at each step doth bound;
On, on, until it strikes the fatal blow,
And vilely mangled, there his corpse is found.
Not many circuits those bright wheels shall know,”
(And heavenward then he glanced) “till that be clear
Which my discourse hath now no power to show.
But I must leave thee: for the time is dear,
Within this kingdom; and too much I lose
In ling'ring for thy slower footsteps here.”
As, from the calvacade, a knight doth use
To spur his steed, all eager for the fray,
First to win honour where the red blood flows,
With bounding step from us he pass'd away;
And I with those two spirits was alone,
Who upon earth were heroes. When there lay
Such space between us that my eyes were gone
In search of him, as erst my thoughts, intent
To know the things his speech to me had shown,
I saw another tree, which seemëd bent
With the rich fruit that every branch down weigh'd,
Anear; and tow'rds it now our footsteps went.
And some were there, who, 'neath its heavy shade,
With hands uplifted, spake unto the leaves,
I know not what; but like a child they pray'd,
As unto one who yet no answer gives;
But, to increase the strong desire they bear,
Holds that on high for which each spirit grieves.
Then they depart, with wish ungranted there;
And onwards to the mighty tree we pass'd,
Which still refuses every tear and prayer.
“Pass on; anear this shade ye may not rest:
There is a tree above, whence Eve erst took
The fatal apple; this hath the same taste.”
Thus mid the boughs some unknown voices spoke;
And I with Virgil and with Statius sought
To cling more closely to the circling rock.
“Remember the accursëd creatures brought
From out a shadowy cloud, and drunk with wine,
When Theseus 'gainst their double forces fought.
Think of the Hebrews too, who gave that sign,
The self-indulgent draught, when Gideon's band
Came down to battle against Midian's line.”
Those airy spirit-voices, on each hand,
Discoursing thus of gluttony we heard,
The sin whereon sad wages aye attend.
We pass'd along the path, which now appear'd
Uncumber'd, for a thousand steps and more,
And each in moving utter'd not a word.
“What thought on you who journey weighs so sore?”
Was said; whereat I started with affright,
As doth a beast whom sudden fear comes o'er.
I look'd to see what now should meet my sight:
And never, in the furnace' crimson glow,
Shone glass or metal with such fiery light,
As did the radiant form I look'd on now.
He said: “Now turn ye, and the mount ascend,
If ye to everlasting peace would go.”
His aspect did my mortal eyesight blind;
Backward I turn'd, to those my steps who bore
Along, that at their bidding I might wend.
And as, sweet heralds of the dawning hour,
Come the May breezes from the fields of bloom,
All laden with the scent of herb and flower,
Even thus, the floating of the angel-plume
I felt, that for a moment touch'd my face,
Wafting ambrosial breath of rich perfume.
And then I heard: “Blessëd is he whom grace
Illumines, so that love of dainty food
Within his heart should hold a measured place;
Nor dim the light of reason with its vapours rude.”