Canto IX
CANTO IX
As the moon is rising in Purgatory, some two and a half of night’s twelve hours have passed, and Dante, still burdened by his mortal body, lies down to sleep where the other four are sitting. Just before dawn, when the soul is most withdrawn from its senses, the Pilgrim has a prophetic dream: a golden eagle hovering in the sky swoops down to snatch him up, like Ganymede, to the sphere of fire. The intense sensation of burning rouses him, leaving him dazed, like Achilles on awakening in Skyros, and chilled with fear (1–42). By now, the sun stands more than two hours high. When Virgil, his comfort, reassures and encourages the startled Poet, he unwittingly interprets the latter’s dream, explaining that Lucy came at the break of day to bear his body up the steep cliff to a cleft in the rock that houses the gate to Purgatory. As he awoke, she disappeared (43–63). Relieved, Dante follows his Guide up the slope and discovers three steps leading to a portal, where, on the uppermost step, an angelic guard is sitting. He symbolizes the ideal priesthood, being clothed in the ashen robes of penance, brandishing the sword of the Word of God to reflect divine light upon the penitents, and resting upon the adamantine foundation of the Church’s authority, conferred by Christ on Peter and his successors. When he learns the manner of their arrival, he bids the Pilgrim ascend the three steps. The first is white for the self-recognition and sincerity of contrition, the second dark and crumbling for the pain of confession, and the third flaming porphyry for fervency in making satisfaction. Under Virgil’s direction, the Poet falls at the angel’s feet, beating his breast, and begging for mercy. The latter traces seven P’s with the tip of his sword upon Dante’s forehead in order to symbolize the inclinations to the seven capital sins (peccata) and instructs the Pilgrim to cleanse himself of them inside Purgatory proper. Then he takes out two keys, a silver one of discernment and a golden one of absolution, and opens the entrance for the Poet, warning him not to look back with desire upon his former way of life (64–132). Only with difficulty does the seldom-used gate swing open, grating more loudly upon its rusty hinges than that of the Temple of Saturn when Caesar despoiled the Romans of their treasure. Its screeching obscures in part the singing of the Te Deum, like an organ drowning out a choir (133–145).
1 Now, from the arms of her sweet love released,
Had old Tithonus’ concubine turned white[142]
Upon her balcony off to the east.
4 Her brow bedecked with gems was shining bright;
They had the shape cold scorpions present
To injure people with their stingers’ might.[143]
7 And, of the paces of the night’s ascent,
Already two had in that place been stepped,
And downwards now the third one’s wings were bent,[144]
10 When I, with something still of Adam kept,[145]
Subdued by sleep, reclined upon the lawn
And, where all five of us were seated, slept.[146]
13 Just when the swallow at a time near dawn
Commences with its mournful lays to pine,
Perhaps in memory of woes now gone,[147]
16 And when, more pilgrim from the fleshly shrine,
Less captive to its thoughts, our mind left free
Is in its visions made almost divine,
19 An eagle in a dream I seemed to see,
With plumes of gold, suspended in the sky,
With wings outspread, and set to swoop at me.
22 And in that very place I seemed to lie
Where Ganymede abandoned all his own,[148]
Snatched up to that consistory most high.[149]
25 I thought within myself: “Perhaps it’s prone
To strike but here; perhaps its talons might
Disdain to snatch one from another zone.”
28 It seemed that it, first wheeling some in flight,
Fell terrible as lightning’s downward leap
And snatched me upwards to the fiery height.[150]
31 And there we both appeared to burn—so deep
A scorching came from that imagined blaze
It only could have broken off my sleep.
34 Just as Achilles woke up in a daze,[151]
Not knowing where he was as everywhere
He turned around himself his wakened gaze
37 When he was borne asleep from Chiron’s care
In mother arms to Skyros’ shore ahead
Though then the Greeks made him depart from there,
40 So too I startled when the sleep had fled
My face at last, and deathly pale I grew,
Just like a man who turns to ice with dread.
43 Alone, my Comfort stood by me anew;
The sun, some two hours high, stood overhead,[152]
And to the sea was where I turned my view.
46 “Oh, do not be afraid,” my Master said,
“But rest assured we stand in good estate;
Do not hold back, put forth your strength instead.
49 To Purgatory you have come of late:
Behold the cliff enclosing it around,
And where the cleft appears, behold the gate.
52 For when your sleeping soul within was bound
(As dawn a while ago preceded day)
And lay on flowers that adorn the ground,
55 ‘I’m Lucy,’ so a lady came to say;[153]
‘Please let me take the one who has been laid
To sleep that I may speed him on his way.’
58 Sordello and those noble others stayed;
She took you up, and when the day was clear,
She climbed—I followed in the prints she’d made.
61 Before she came to lay you down right here,
By her fair eyes an open door was shown;
Then she and sleep were both to disappear.”
64 Like one in doubt whose certainty has grown
As confidence develops out of fear
When finally the truth has been made known,
67 So I was changed, and seeing me appear
Without a care, my Guide moved up the hill,
And upwards towards the height I followed near.
70 You clearly see, O Reader, how I will
To lift my theme, but if with greater art
I must sustain it, do not marvel still.
73 As we approached, we came upon a part
Where first there merely seemed to be a breach,
Just like a gap that cleaves a wall apart.
76 I saw a gate, to which three stairsteps reach
From up below, each one diversely dyed,
And then a guard, who still refrained from speech.
79 And as I more and more intently eyed,
I saw him seated on the highest stair;
His face was one that I could not abide.
82 He had in hand a sword whose blade was bare,
Reflecting rays at us with such a glow
In vain I often turned towards it to stare.
85 “What do you want? Speak up from there below!”
He started saying. “Where’s the guide to lead?
Take care, lest coming upwards bring you woe.”
88 “A lady sent from Heaven, skilled indeed[154]
In matters of this kind,” my Master said,
“Told us before: ‘The gate is there; proceed!’”
91 “And may she let your steps to good be sped!”
Began anew that guard, who was polite,
“And so, here is the stairway, come ahead.”
94 We then came on. The foremost step was white,
And my true image there was mirrored back—
Its polished marble was so clear and bright.
97 The next was darker still than purplish black,
A step of stone both rough and scorched all through,
Across whose length and breadth there ran a crack.
100 The third, its mass upon the other two,
Appeared to be of flaming porphyry,
As red as blood an open vein will spew.
103 God’s angel held his feet on it while he
Was sitting down upon the threshold block;
Of adamantine it appeared to be.
106 My Leader led me up three steps of rock,
With much good will. “And now,” he said, “entreat,
But humbly, that he open up the lock.”
109 Devoutly falling at his holy feet,
I begged in mercy’s name to be let in,
But, first of all, my breast three times I beat.
112 His swordtip traced upon my forehead’s skin
Full seven times a P. He told me: “Please[155]
Wash off these wounds when you have passed within.”
115 Cold ashes or dry earth dug up agrees
In color with the vestments that he wore,
And from beneath them he brought forth two keys.
118 One golden key, one silver key, he bore;
First with the white, next with the yellow key,
To my content he set about the door.
121 “If one of these keys fails, and it should be
It won’t turn rightly in the keyhole’s slot,
This passage will not open up,” said he.
124 “More dear is one, the other needs a lot
Of art and wit, should locks be opened now,
For it is that one which unties the knot.
127 From Peter I hold both; he taught me how
To err in opening, not latching fast,
If only at my feet the people bow.”
130 He pushed the sacred portal’s door at last
And said: “So enter, but I warn you straight:
Those looking back return outside, once past.”
133 And as the pivots of that holy gate
Were turning in the hinges where they lay,
They made the strong, resounding metal grate.
136 Tarpeia did not yet so loudly bray
Nor prove so stubborn when it would be found
Stripped bare with good Metellus thrust away.[156]
139 Intent on that first note, I turned around,
And Deum Te laudamus next was heard,[157]
It seemed, in voices mixed with dulcet sound.
142 And with what I was hearing there occurred
The same impression that at times is got
When with the organ tones the singing’s blurred,
145 For now we hear the words and now do not.