The Divine Comedy by Dante: The Vision Of Purgatory: Canto XIX

It was the hour, when of diurnal heat     No reliques chafe the cold beams of the moon,     O'erpower'd by earth, or planetary sway     Of Saturn; and the geomancer sees     His Greater Fortune up the east ascend,     Where gray dawn checkers first the shadowy cone;     When 'fore me in my dream a woman's shape     There came, with lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant,     Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale.     I look'd upon her; and as sunshine cheers     Limbs numb'd by nightly cold, e'en thus my look     Unloos'd her tongue, next in brief space her form     Decrepit rais'd erect, and faded face     With love's own hue illum'd. Recov'ring speech     She forthwith warbling such a strain began,     That I, how loth soe'er, could scarce have held     Attention from the song. "I," thus she sang,     "I am the Siren, she, whom mariners     On the wide sea are wilder'd when they hear:     Such fulness of delight the list'ner feels.     I from his course Ulysses by my lay     Enchanted drew. Whoe'er frequents me once     Parts seldom; so I charm him, and his heart     Contented knows no void." Or ere her mouth     Was clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'd     A dame of semblance holy. With stern voice     She utter'd; "Say, O Virgil, who is this?"     Which hearing, he approach'd, with eyes still bent     Toward that goodly presence: th' other seiz'd her,     And, her robes tearing, open'd her before,     And show'd the belly to me, whence a smell,     Exhaling loathsome, wak'd me. Round I turn'd     Mine eyes, and thus the teacher: "At the least     Three times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone.     Let us the opening find where thou mayst pass."     I straightway rose. Now day, pour'd down from high,     Fill'd all the circuits of the sacred mount;     And, as we journey'd, on our shoulder smote     The early ray. I follow'd, stooping low     My forehead, as a man, o'ercharg'd with thought,     Who bends him to the likeness of an arch,     That midway spans the flood; when thus I heard,     "Come, enter here," in tone so soft and mild,     As never met the ear on mortal strand.     With swan-like wings dispread and pointing up,     Who thus had spoken marshal'd us along,     Where each side of the solid masonry     The sloping, walls retir'd; then mov'd his plumes,     And fanning us, affirm'd that those, who mourn,     Are blessed, for that comfort shall be theirs.     "What aileth thee, that still thou look'st to earth?"     Began my leader; while th' angelic shape     A little over us his station took.     "New vision," I replied, "hath rais'd in me     Surmisings strange and anxious doubts, whereon     My soul intent allows no other thought     Or room or entrance."--"Hast thou seen," said he,     "That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone     The spirits o'er us weep for? Hast thou seen     How man may free him of her bonds? Enough.     Let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd ken     Fix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal King     Whirls in the rolling spheres." As on his feet     The falcon first looks down, then to the sky     Turns, and forth stretches eager for the food,     That woos him thither; so the call I heard,     So onward, far as the dividing rock     Gave way, I journey'd, till the plain was reach'd.     On the fifth circle when I stood at large,     A race appear'd before me, on the ground     All downward lying prone and weeping sore.     "My soul hath cleaved to the dust," I heard     With sighs so deep, they well nigh choak'd the words.     "O ye elect of God, whose penal woes     Both hope and justice mitigate, direct     Tow'rds the steep rising our uncertain way."     "If ye approach secure from this our doom,     Prostration--and would urge your course with speed,     See that ye still to rightward keep the brink."     So them the bard besought; and such the words,     Beyond us some short space, in answer came.     I noted what remain'd yet hidden from them:     Thence to my liege's eyes mine eyes I bent,     And he, forthwith interpreting their suit,     Beckon'd his glad assent. Free then to act,     As pleas'd me, I drew near, and took my stand     O`er that shade, whose words I late had mark'd.     And, "Spirit!" I said, "in whom repentant tears     Mature that blessed hour, when thou with God     Shalt find acceptance, for a while suspend     For me that mightier care. Say who thou wast,     Why thus ye grovel on your bellies prone,     And if in aught ye wish my service there,     Whence living I am come." He answering spake     "The cause why Heav'n our back toward his cope     Reverses, shalt thou know: but me know first     The successor of Peter, and the name     And title of my lineage from that stream,     That' twixt Chiaveri and Siestri draws     His limpid waters through the lowly glen.     A month and little more by proof I learnt,     With what a weight that robe of sov'reignty     Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mire     Would guard it: that each other fardel seems     But feathers in the balance. Late, alas!     Was my conversion: but when I became     Rome's pastor, I discern'd at once the dream     And cozenage of life, saw that the heart     Rested not there, and yet no prouder height     Lur'd on the climber: wherefore, of that life     No more enamour'd, in my bosom love     Of purer being kindled. For till then     I was a soul in misery, alienate     From God, and covetous of all earthly things;     Now, as thou seest, here punish'd for my doting.     Such cleansing from the taint of avarice     Do spirits converted need. This mount inflicts     No direr penalty. E'en as our eyes     Fasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier clime     Were lifted, thus hath justice level'd us     Here on the earth. As avarice quench'd our love     Of good, without which is no working, thus     Here justice holds us prison'd, hand and foot     Chain'd down and bound, while heaven's just Lord shall please.     So long to tarry motionless outstretch'd."     My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke; but he,     Ere my beginning, by his ear perceiv'd     I did him reverence; and "What cause," said he,     "Hath bow'd thee thus!"--"Compunction," I rejoin'd.     "And inward awe of your high dignity."     "Up," he exclaim'd, "brother! upon thy feet     Arise: err not: thy fellow servant I,     (Thine and all others') of one Sovran Power.     If thou hast ever mark'd those holy sounds     Of gospel truth, 'nor shall be given ill marriage,'     Thou mayst discern the reasons of my speech.     Go thy ways now; and linger here no more.     Thy tarrying is a let unto the tears,     With which I hasten that whereof thou spak'st.     I have on earth a kinswoman; her name     Alagia, worthy in herself, so ill     Example of our house corrupt her not:     And she is all remaineth of me there."