Canto XV
CANTO XV
The Poets are following the steaming channel, the elevated banks of which resemble the dikes built by the Flemish along the North Sea or by the Paduans along the Brenta, when they meet a pack of roving spirits, who squint at them through the murky haze (1–21). Amazed to see Dante, one of them reaches up to seize his garment’s hem. The Pilgrim peers down at his scorched face, in which he discerns the features of Ser Brunetto Latini, a prominent statesman, author, and personal acquaintance (22–30). Declining Dante’s offer to sit a while, since his rest would be punished by having to lie on the smoldering sands for a hundred years, and he could not fend off the assaulting flames, Brunetto turns around to accompany him. The Wayfarer thus walks along with the shade, his head bowed down in an attitude of reverence (31–45). When Brunetto asks him about his infernal journey and his nearby guide, Dante briefly recounts his straying in the recently forsaken dark woods and his homeward quest under Virgil’s direction. Brunetto tells the Poet that if he pursues the star of his destiny, he will surely attain the port of earthly fame (46–60) despite the opposition of Florence, a city whose noble Roman lineage has been tainted with the crudeness of Fiesole and blinded by avarice, envy, and pride. It will redound to Dante’s praise that both factions of Florence will seek to devour him, one of the few remaining stalks sprouted from the holy Roman seed (61–78). Wishing Brunetto were still alive, Dante recalls the paternal image of a man who taught him that virtue which Aristotle called megalopsychía, the greatness of soul that strives for enduring honor. The Pilgrim will store what Brunetto has said with the prophecies of Ciacco and Farinata, pledging to remain steadfast and true to his conscience (79–99). As they continue their walk, Brunetto names others in this ring: Priscian, Francesco di Accorso, and Dante’s own bishop, who should have led the Poet to heavenly glory as Brunetto had to worldly renown. At last, he briefly recommends his own Trésor to Dante before sprinting off like a victorious runner in the races of Verona (100–124).
1 We now are borne by one of those hard banks;
The river mist forms shadows overhead
And saves from fire the water and its flanks.
4 Between Wissánt and Bruges the Flemish dread[238]
The flood tide that against them rushes through
And make a shield to rout the sea instead;
7 So, too, the Paduans by Brenta do,[239]
To guard the towns and every castle-wall,
Before Carinthia feels the heat anew.[240]
10 In such a fashion these were built, though small,
For here, whatever master made their mound,
He did not build it up so broad or tall.
13 We now were far removed from wooded ground,
So far that I would not have seen just where,
Not even if I’d turned my gaze around.
16 And then we met a group of spirits there,[241]
Who straight along the bank were coming by;
Each peered at us as one at dusk will stare
19 To see the next beneath the new moon’s sky;
With eyebrows knit they squinted towards our side,
Like agèd tailors at a needle’s eye.
22 By such a family we thus were spied,
And I was known by one who reached to hook
My garment’s hem; “How marvelous!” he cried.
25 Upon his toasted face I fixed my look
When he had stretched his forearm out to me
So that the scorching of his visage took
28 His knowledge from my mind to no degree.
Then to his face I reached my hand down low
And answered: “Ser Brunetto? Are you he?”[242]
31 “My son,” he said, “don’t be displeased, although
Brunett’ Latini should turn back with you
A little way and let the others go.”
34 I said: “With all my heart I pray you to,
And if it is your wish that I should sit,
If he I go with pleases, so I’ll do.”
37 “Whoever of this train should rest a bit
Must lie a hundred years and thus abide,
My son, not brushing off the flames that hit.
40 So go ahead; I’ll follow close beside
Your skirts, then join my roaming flock again,
Which weeps eternal losses,” he replied.
43 I did not dare to leave my pathway then
To walk along with him, but bowed my head
And held it low as do all rev’rent men.
46 “What fate or fortune leads you,” he first said,
“Down here before the final day is seen,
And who is he who shows the road you tread?”
49 “Up in a valley there, in life serene
And bright,” I answered him, “I went astray
Before my years had fully reached the mean.
52 I turned my back on it just yesterday;
As I returned, though, he appeared in sight,
To guide me home again along this way.”
55 He said: “Should you pursue your stellar light,
You cannot fail to reach a splendid port,
If in the fair life I discerned aright.
58 Had death not cut that life of mine too short,
On seeing that the heavens were benign
To you, I would have lent your work support.
61 That people, though, both thankless and malign,[243]
Which from Fiésole came long ago
And smacks of rocks and mountains will, in fine,
64 For your well-doing prove to be your foe—
And here’s the cause: sweet figs are not inclined
To bear their fruit where bitter sorb trees grow.
67 Old fame within the world has called them blind;[244]
On envy, greed, and pride those people dote;
So cleanse yourself from customs of their kind.
70 Your fortune holds you honors of such note
That both their sides will hunger after you;
But keep the grass at distance from the goat.
73 Those cattle of Fiésole may chew
Themselves like straw; the plant they may not touch
(If in their dunghill one should rise anew)
76 In which survives the holy seed of such
Few Romans, who had still remained there when
They made the nest of malice grow so much.”
79 “If my desire were fully granted, then
You would,” so I replied to him, “not yet
Be banished from the nature had by men.
82 For in my mind is fixed, with heart’s regret,
Your image, dear, and kind, and fatherly—
Since in the world from time to time you let
85 Me see how man may find eternity;
And while I still am living, it is right
For speech to show how grateful I can be.
88 What you have told me of my course I write
And keep with other texts for gloss some day
By one who’ll know, should I but reach her site.[245]
91 This much, however, I shall plainly say:
As long as conscience does not make me rue,
I stand prepared for Fortune, come what may.
94 Such earnest, to my ears, is nothing new;
Let Fortune please to turn her wheel instead,
And let the peasant turn his mattock too.”
97 And at that point my Master turned his head
Around and towards the right to look at me;
“He listens well who notes these things,” he said.
100 But none the less, I went on talking free
With Ser Brunetto, asking him to show
His mates of highest notoriety.
103 And he replied: “Of some it’s good to know,
But laudable that, keeping still, we name
No others—time’s too short for talking so.
106 That all were scholars, great and of great fame,
Now know in sum, and they were clerics too;
The sin on earth that soiled them was the same.
109 There Priscian goes among the wretched crew[246]
With di Accorso, and you’d see who went[247]
(If you had longed to get such scum in view)
112 When by the Servants’ Servant he was sent
From Arno on to Bacchiglione, where
He left the muscles that in sin were spent.[248]
115 I would say more of this, but I must spare
All further words and walking, for I see
New smoke arising from the sand beds there,
118 And people come with whom I must not be.
May I commend my Treasure unto you,[249]
In which I live—I ask no more,” said he.
121 He turned around and seemed like someone who
Runs on Verona’s fields and there pursues
The cloth of green, appearing in that slew[250]
124 Like one who wins and not like those who lose.