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

While singly thus along the rim we walk'd,     Oft the good master warn'd me: "Look thou well.     Avail it that I caution thee." The sun     Now all the western clime irradiate chang'd     From azure tinct to white; and, as I pass'd,     My passing shadow made the umber'd flame     Burn ruddier. At so strange a sight I mark'd     That many a spirit marvel'd on his way.     This bred occasion first to speak of me,     "He seems," said they, "no insubstantial frame:"     Then to obtain what certainty they might,     Stretch'd towards me, careful not to overpass     The burning pale. "O thou, who followest     The others, haply not more slow than they,     But mov'd by rev'rence, answer me, who burn     In thirst and fire: nor I alone, but these     All for thine answer do more thirst, than doth     Indian or Aethiop for the cooling stream.     Tell us, how is it that thou mak'st thyself     A wall against the sun, as thou not yet     Into th' inextricable toils of death     Hadst enter'd?" Thus spake one, and I had straight     Declar'd me, if attention had not turn'd     To new appearance. Meeting these, there came,     Midway the burning path, a crowd, on whom     Earnestly gazing, from each part I view     The shadows all press forward, sev'rally     Each snatch a hasty kiss, and then away.     E'en so the emmets, 'mid their dusky troops,     Peer closely one at other, to spy out     Their mutual road perchance, and how they thrive.     That friendly greeting parted, ere dispatch     Of the first onward step, from either tribe     Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come,     Shout "Sodom and Gomorrah!" these, "The cow     Pasiphae enter'd, that the beast she woo'd     Might rush unto her luxury." Then as cranes,     That part towards the Riphaean mountains fly,     Part towards the Lybic sands, these to avoid     The ice, and those the sun; so hasteth off     One crowd, advances th' other; and resume     Their first song weeping, and their several shout.     Again drew near my side the very same,     Who had erewhile besought me, and their looks     Mark'd eagerness to listen. I, who twice     Their will had noted, spake: "O spirits secure,     Whene'er the time may be, of peaceful end!     My limbs, nor crude, nor in mature old age,     Have I left yonder: here they bear me, fed     With blood, and sinew-strung. That I no more     May live in blindness, hence I tend aloft.     There is a dame on high, who wind for us     This grace, by which my mortal through your realm     I bear. But may your utmost wish soon meet     Such full fruition, that the orb of heaven,     Fullest of love, and of most ample space,     Receive you, as ye tell (upon my page     Henceforth to stand recorded) who ye are,     And what this multitude, that at your backs     Have past behind us." As one, mountain-bred,     Rugged and clownish, if some city's walls     He chance to enter, round him stares agape,     Confounded and struck dumb; e'en such appear'd     Each spirit. But when rid of that amaze,     (Not long the inmate of a noble heart)     He, who before had question'd, thus resum'd:     "O blessed, who, for death preparing, tak'st     Experience of our limits, in thy bark!     Their crime, who not with us proceed, was that,     For which, as he did triumph, Caesar heard     The snout of 'queen,' to taunt him. Hence their cry     Of 'Sodom,' as they parted, to rebuke     Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame.     Our sinning was Hermaphrodite: but we,     Because the law of human kind we broke,     Following like beasts our vile concupiscence,     Hence parting from them, to our own disgrace     Record the name of her, by whom the beast     In bestial tire was acted. Now our deeds     Thou know'st, and how we sinn'd. If thou by name     Wouldst haply know us, time permits not now     To tell so much, nor can I. Of myself     Learn what thou wishest. Guinicelli I,     Who having truly sorrow'd ere my last,     Already cleanse me." With such pious joy,     As the two sons upon their mother gaz'd     From sad Lycurgus rescu'd, such my joy     (Save that I more represt it) when I heard     From his own lips the name of him pronounc'd,     Who was a father to me, and to those     My betters, who have ever us'd the sweet     And pleasant rhymes of love. So nought I heard     Nor spake, but long time thoughtfully I went,     Gazing on him; and, only for the fire,     Approach'd not nearer. When my eyes were fed     By looking on him, with such solemn pledge,     As forces credence, I devoted me     Unto his service wholly. In reply     He thus bespake me: "What from thee I hear     Is grav'd so deeply on my mind, the waves     Of Lethe shall not wash it off, nor make     A whit less lively. But as now thy oath     Has seal'd the truth, declare what cause impels     That love, which both thy looks and speech bewray."     "Those dulcet lays," I answer'd, "which, as long     As of our tongue the beauty does not fade,     Shall make us love the very ink that trac'd them."     "Brother!" he cried, and pointed at a shade     Before him, "there is one, whose mother speech     Doth owe to him a fairer ornament.     He in love ditties and the tales of prose     Without a rival stands, and lets the fools     Talk on, who think the songster of Limoges     O'ertops him. Rumour and the popular voice     They look to more than truth, and so confirm     Opinion, ere by art or reason taught.     Thus many of the elder time cried up     Guittone, giving him the prize, till truth     By strength of numbers vanquish'd. If thou own     So ample privilege, as to have gain'd     Free entrance to the cloister, whereof Christ     Is Abbot of the college, say to him     One paternoster for me, far as needs     For dwellers in this world, where power to sin     No longer tempts us." Haply to make way     For one, that follow'd next, when that was said,     He vanish'd through the fire, as through the wave     A fish, that glances diving to the deep.     I, to the spirit he had shown me, drew     A little onward, and besought his name,     For which my heart, I said, kept gracious room.     He frankly thus began: "Thy courtesy     So wins on me, I have nor power nor will     To hide me. I am Arnault; and with songs,     Sorely lamenting for my folly past,     Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see     The day, I hope for, smiling in my view.     I pray ye by the worth that guides ye up     Unto the summit of the scale, in time     Remember ye my suff'rings." With such words     He disappear'd in the refining flame.