Canto XI
CANTO XI
The spirits of the proud recite the Lord’s Prayer in an expanded version that emphasizes the virtue of humility they are seeking to acquire, mentioning in their petitions those on earth just as the living should offer up their prayers and works of mercy for the poor souls in Purgatory (1–36). Since Dante still bears the weight of his body’s flesh, Virgil asks them how to find the quickest path to the stairs and, if there is more than one stairway, which mounts up the least steeply (37–45). An undetermined voice tells the Pilgrims to follow. Because of the huge stone he bears upon his back, the speaker is unable to look up to see if he can recognize Dante. He identifies himself as Omberto Aldobrandesco, a count of Santafiora, who serves as an example of the arrogance of birth (46–72). As Dante inclines forwards to listen, another shade twists and recognizes the Poet, who is able in turn to name the penitent. He is Oderisi, an illuminator of manuscripts who provides an instance of the vanity of artistic excellence. Discoursing on the ephemerality of fame, he cites Cimabue, who yielded pride of place to Giotto in painting, and Guido Guinizzelli, who did so to Guido Cavalcanti in Italian poetry (73–108). He then points out Provenzano Salvani, once a virtual dictator in Siena, as a representative of the presumption of power (109–126). When Dante asks how it is that he did not have to spend the length of his earthly life in Ante-Purgatory among the late repentant, Oderisi relates how he was spared that fate by publicly humbling himself to save a friend and then prophesies that the Pilgrim will soon undergo like humiliations (127–142).
1 “Our Father, who in Heaven dwell above,
Not circumscribed in place, but since on high
You bear Your first effects a greater love,[172]
4 May each of all your creatures sanctify
Your name and worth and render as is fit
Its thanks for sweet effusions You supply.
7 Your kingdom come to us, and peace with it,
For of ourselves we cannot reach it who,
Should it not come, don’t have such strength of wit.
10 As of their wills your angels make to You
A sacrifice and sing Hosanna, pray,
With their own wills may humans likewise do.
13 Our daily manna give to us today;
Without it he goes backwards who exerts
Himself the most on this harsh desert way.
16 And as we pardon everyone the hurts
We have endured, may You forgive us too,
Benignly; do not look at our deserts.
19 Try not our strength, so easy to subdue,
Against the ancient foe, but come unbind
It from the one who spurs it on anew.[173]
22 We do not make this last plea, Lord most kind,
As if it were for us, who have no need,
But for the ones who still remain behind.”[174]
25 For them and us imploring thus good speed,
Each shade was trudging underneath a load
Like those we sometimes dream. And all indeed,
28 Diversely anguished, weary on the road,
Went round that first of terraces they trod
To purge the mist of their mundane abode.
31 If there our good is always asked of God,
What can be said and done for them down here
By those whose wills are rooted in good sod?[175]
34 Indeed, we ought to help them wash the smear[176]
They bore from here that, light and cleansed of mire,
Each soul may rise up to its starry sphere.
37 “That justice soon with pity may conspire
And so disburden you that you may spread
Your wings to lift you up as you desire,
40 Show by which pass one is most quickly led
To find the stairs; and if there’s more than one,
Show which will rise least steeply up instead.
43 Since he who comes with me, as Adam’s son,
Still bears the weight of flesh that robes his frame,
Against his will ascent is slowly won.”
46 It was not manifest from whom there came
The words returned to these said by my Guide,
Whom I was following, but all the same,
49 “Come with us to the right,” it was replied,
“Along the bank; a pass you there will find
Where one who lives may climb the mountain-side.
52 If unimpeded by the stone assigned,
By which this haughty neck of mine is tamed
So that I have to hold my face inclined,
55 I’d look at him still living but unnamed
To see if I might know at whom I stare
And have his pity at this burden aimed.
58 I was Italian, a great Tuscan’s heir;[177]
Guglielm’ Aldobrandesco sowed my seed;[178]
I know not if his name was with you there.
61 The ancient blood and every gallant deed
My forebears wrought made arrogance so swell,
Which to our common Mother paid no heed,[179]
64 That I disdained all men; and how I fell
That way to death the Sienese all know,
And Campagnático’s each child can tell.
67 I am Omberto; and my pride grew so
It harmed not only me, for all my folk
Have been dragged down by it and into woe.
70 For this I here must bear this weighty yoke
Among the dead, unborne in life before,
Till God at last is satisfied,” he spoke.
73 I, listening, inclined my face some more;
And one—not he who spoke—among that crowd,
Who turned beneath the cumbrous weight he bore,
76 And saw, and recognized me, cried aloud;
He fixed his eyes on me with effort, who
Went walking on with them completely bowed.
79 “You’re Oderisi,” I exclaimed, “aren’t you?[180]
The pride of Gubbio, and of that skill
Parisians call ‘Illumination’ too?”
82 “But, brother, Franco Bolognese’s quill
Pens sheets,” he said, “to smile more brightly yet;
All honor’s his—a part is mine, though, still.
85 Such courtesy in truth I would forget
If now alive—my great desire so yearned
For excellence, on which my heart was set.
88 For pride like that the fee is here returned,
And even now I would not here remain
But that, still fit for sin, to God I turned.
91 O human strength, your glory is so vain!
How briefly green will last atop your weald
If not succeeded by a duller reign!
94 Once Cimabue thought to hold the field[181]
In painting; Giotto now is cried as best
So that the other’s dimmer fame must yield.
97 So did one Guido from the other wrest
The glory of our tongue; perhaps the frame[182]
Of him is born who’ll chase them from their nest.
100 For nothing more is all your earthly fame
Than gusts of wind which come from here or there
And, as they change their quarters, change their name.
103 Will greater fame be yours if you outwear
Your flesh when you are old than if you face
Your death as pratthng babies, when a bare
106 One thousand years have passed? That’s yet less space
For the eternal than a twitching brow
For Heaven’s sphere that turns with slowest pace.
109 He who makes little way before me—how
All Tuscany once chimed his name before!
It’s scarcely whispered in Siena now,
112 Where he was lord when once a raging corps
From Florence was destroyed, which then—alas!—
Was just as proud as now it is a whore.
115 Your fame is like the color of the grass,
Which comes and goes; for he who made it sprout[183]
So green from earth will make it fade and pass.”
118 “With good humility your truth makes stout
My heart within and flattens swollen pride;
But who,” I said,“ is he you spoke about?”
121 “That’s Provenzán Salvani,” he replied;[184]
“On all Siena he presumed to lay
His hands, and therefore he must here abide.
124 Without reposing since his dying day,
He goes and thus has gone to satisfy
With such a coin as those too bold must pay.”
127 “If that soul who awaits life’s end,” said I,
“Before it has decided to repent
Must stay below and not ascend on high
130 For just as long as it in life had spent
(Unless good prayers should lend it aid at last),
Then how was he allowed to make ascent?”[185]
133 “When that one lived in glory unsurpassed,
He put aside all shame of his free will
And in Siena’s square,” he said, “stood fast.
136 And there, to save his friend from pain and ill
Which he sustained in Carlo’s jail below,
He brought his every vein to shake with chill.
139 (I say no more. My words are dark, I know;[186]
Your neighbors all will act with such designs
In but short time that you can gloss them, though.)
142 This deed delivered him from those confines.”