Canto VI
CANTO VI
Anxious to secure intercession through him, the late repentant huddle around Dante, and he manages to pry loose only by promising to help, like the winner of a dice game carving a way out for himself by pressing a coin into this hand and that of newly acquired friends crowding around him (1–12). Here the Pilgrim recognizes Benincasa da Laterina, Guccio de’ Tarlati da Pietramala, Federigo Novello, Marzucco degli Scornigiani’s son Farinata, Count Orso da Mangona, and Pierre de la Brosse of Turenne (13–24). When the Poet has disentangled himself from those whose only prayer is to be prayed for, he questions Virgil about a text in the Aeneid that seems to imply that such supplication cannot bend the decrees of Heaven. The Sage explains that Divine Justice does not fail when a person in grace satisfies the debt of temporal punishment owed for sin for a soul to whom it is united by a bond of love. Rather, his passage referred to those who, lacking the redemptive grace of Christ, could not make good their defects through prayer. Nevertheless, he warns that Dante should draw no final conclusions here on the basis of mere reason before receiving the revelation of Beatrice, who blissfully awaits him at the summit of Mount Purgatory (25–48). The mention of Beatrice renews the strength of the climber, who naively wishes to take advantage of the early afternoon shade to reach the top. His Guide assures him that they will mount as far as they can before nightfall, when they will have to rest, but that attaining the peak must await another sunrise or more (49–57). In the meantime, Virgil hopes to take direction from a spirit seated apart, one lofty and disdainful, couched like a lion, and watching silently with grave and slowly moving eyes. Rather than answer Virgil’s question, the shade asks about his native land, and, on learning that it is Mantua, the same as his, he rises, identifies himself as Sordello, and offers his embrace (58–75). This spontaneous display of affection between two countrymen launches the Pilgrim into a bitter invective against the ills of his native Italy: the internecine strife in the absence of imperial leadership (76–90), the pretensions of the clergy to usurp the temporal authority (91–96), the emperor’s neglect of his fairest province (97–105), the feud between Guelphs and Ghibellines ravaging the cities (106–117), the petty local tyrants resisting imperial rule (118–126), and the Florentines’ empty talk of justice, grasping after public office, and ever-changing laws to suit the needs of the moment (127–151).
1 When at its end the game of chance adjourns,
The loser, sorrowful, remains behind,
Repeating all his throws and sadly learns.
4 Around the winner all the rest go twined:
In back one tugs, in front one walks along,
And at his side one brings himself to mind.
7 He listens to them all, not stopping long;
They press no more when he puts out his hand
And thus defends himself from all that throng.
10 And such was I among that crowding band;
Now here, now there, I turned to them my face,
And, promising, pried loose from each demand.
13 Here was an Aretine who went in pace,[90]
Whom Ghin di Tacco’s cruel arm left dead,
And one who’d drowned while running on a chase;
16 Here Federig’ Novello, hands outspread,
Imploring me; here one in Pisa born,
By whom the good Marzucco’s strength was bred.
19 I saw Count Orso and that spirit torn
From body’s flesh by spite and envy near,
(And not, he said, for any guilt he’d borne)—
22 Pierre d’ la Brosse I mean; and while she’s here
The Lady of Brabant should still take heed
Or end among a far worse flock, I fear.
25 And when from all those shades I had been freed
—Those who but pray that men for them should pray
To come to holiness with greater speed—
28 “It seems, my Light,” so I began to say,
“Your text denies expressly that the best
Of prayers bend Heaven’s firm decrees some way.[91]
31 These people, though, make only this request;
Is it the case that all their hope is vain,
Or that your words aren’t fully manifest?”
34 He said to me: “My writing is quite plain;
And yet, their hope will never go awry,
If but the mind that looks at it is sane:
37 The height of justice is not lowered by
The hearts whose fires of love at once fulfill
What those sojourning here must satisfy.
40 My point was made when faults existed still
Whose emendation prayer could not effect
Because that prayer was severed from God’s will.
43 But just the same, don’t linger to inspect
So great a doubt till she should tell you this,
That light between both truth and intellect.
46 Do not misunderstand: it’s Beatrice
I’m speaking of; and, once above, you’ll spy
Her on the mountain, smiling in her bliss.”
49 “My Lord, let’s go with greater haste,” said I,
“I’m not as weary as I was before;
You see the slope cast shadows from on high.”
52 And in reply he said: “We shall explore
While it is day, as far as can be done;
But things are other than you take them for.
55 Before you reach the top, you’ll see the one
Return that’s hidden by the slope today
So that you do not break its rays, my son.
58 But see that seated soul not far away,
One all alone and looking towards us there,
For he will show to us the quickest way.”
61 We came to him. (How lofty was your air,
O Lombard soul, and how disdainful too!
How grave and slow your eyes, which moved to stare!)
64 That spirit uttered nothing to us two;
Instead of that, he let us pass on by,
Just watching us, as couching lions do.
67 But Virgil asked him, once he had drawn nigh
To him, to show us both the best ascent.
Yet to his question he did not reply
70 But asked about our land and lives we’d spent.
“From Mantua … ,” my Guide began, whereat
The shadow who had been so self-intent
73 Responded, rising up from where he sat:
“O Mantuan, I am Sordello; know[92]
I’m from your land!” And they embraced at that.
76 O Italy, you slave, you inn of woe,
You ship amidst great storms with none to steer,
No queen of provinces, a harlot, though!
79 How eager did that noble soul appear
At but the dulcet name his city bore
To bid his fellow townsman welcome here,
82 But none can live in you without a war;
Of those whom one same wall and moat surround,
The one must gnaw the other all the more.
85 You wretched one, just search the seas around
Your shores, then look within your bosom’s pit:
Is any part enjoying peace there found?
88 What profit, should Justinian refit[93]
The bridle gear? The saddle’s empty now!
Your shame would be the less, if not for it.
91 O clergy, you who would devoutly bow
And in the saddle let your Caesar sit,
If you gave heed to God’s commands, see how
94 This beast is growing vicious whit by whit
Because it’s uncorrected by the spur
Since you have laid your hand upon the bit.
97 O German Albert, who abandoned her[94]
(A steed become untamed and wildly bred),
But who should stride her pommel, you’ll incur
100 Just judgment on your blood; it will be sped
Down from the stars, so new and open-faced
That your successor will be struck with dread![95]
103 Held back up yonder by your greedy taste,
Your father first and you as well have let
The garden of the Empire be laid waste.
106 Come see the Montague, the Capulet,[96]
Monaldi, Filippeschi—these fear-torn,
And those now sad—but you’ve no cares as yet!
109 Come, cruel one, see what distress is borne
By all your nobles; heal their malady,
And see how Santafior is so forlorn.
112 Just come and see your Rome still weeping, see
Her widowed, lonely, crying day and night:
“My Caesar, why have you abandoned me?”
115 Oh, how they love each other, see the sight!
And if to pity us you can’t be swayed,
Come let your fame make you ashamed outright.
118 O highest Jove, who on the cross were laid[97]
For us on earth, if I ask not amiss,
Where else is it that Your just eyes have strayed?
121 Or are You making plans in the abyss
Of Your deep counsel for some good though we,
Cut off from it, are unaware of this?
124 For tyrants fill the towns of Italy,
And every village partisan is bent
On being as Marcellus now would be.[98]
127 My Florence, you indeed may be content
With this digression, which concerns you not,
Because your people strive without relent.
130 The justice borne in many hearts is shot
More slowly, brought with counsel to the bow;
Your people have it on the tongue a lot.
133 To public office many will say “no,”
But you respond with zeal though none should sue,
And clamor: “I will bear the burden!” So
136 You may rejoice, for you have reason to,
You wealthy, you at peace, you wise in mind!
The facts will show if what I say is true.
139 For Athens, Sparta also, who designed
The laws of old, in civics unsurpassed,
Have made small signs of living well, we find,
142 Compared to you, with laws so finely cast
That should your spinning in October fall
Your threads till mid-November would not last.
145 How often have you changed your law in all,
Your custom, office, coin, and swapped your men
For newer members, that you can recall?
148 Remember well, behold the light, and then
You’ll see how like a sickly wench you’ve lain,
Who cannot find repose on down again
151 But with her tossing seeks to ease her pain.