Canto XIII
CANTO XIII
Virgil and Dante have climbed to the top of the stairs and now stand at the second terrace, which curves more sharply than the first, though its livid stone shows no figure or image (1–9). Fearing that to wait for someone who can direct them to the right or to the left will consume too much time, Virgil turns to the northwest, towards the sun, and prays for direction (9–21). When they have covered a brisk mile, they hear spirits flying above calling out these examples of charity, the virtue that wills the good for another and is thus opposed to envy, the vice that sorrows at another’s good: Mary’s concern for the young bride and groom at the wedding feast of Cana, Pylades’ attempt to save Orestes’ life, and Jesus’ exhortation to love our enemies (22–42). Virgil directs his pupil’s sight to the shades sitting up ahead chanting the Litany of the Saints. As he sees them propped against each other and against the wall, their mantles made of haircloth, their eyelids sewn shut with iron thread, like wild falcons being trained, the Pilgrim weeps from pity (43–72). He feels that it is wrong to look at them and remain unseen, yet, at Virgil’s encouragement, he courteously asks if any Italian shade dwells among the envious, offering to secure intercession on earth for such a soul (73–93). A short distance ahead, a spirit raises her chin like a blind woman and answers that they once lived as pilgrims in Italy but now are all citizens of one true city. On further questioning, she turns out to be Sapia of Siena, who exulted when the Sienese Ghibellines were defeated by the Florentine Guelphs at the battle of Colle di Val d’Elsa. She made her peace with God late in life and would still be in Ante-Purgatory were it not for Peter Pettinaio, a simple holy man, who interceded for her. On learning that Dante is still alive, she asks him both to pray for her and to restore her name among her kin (94–154).
1 We topped the stairs where for a second time
There had been cut away the mountain’s flank,
The mount that heals our evils as we climb.
4 And there the hill is girded by a bank,
A terrace like the first around its cone,
Except its arc, more sharply curving, shrank.
7 There is no figure here nor image shown,
For bare do both the bank and road appear
As does the livid color of the stone.
10 “If we should wait to ask of people here,”
The Poet, reasoning, had just begun,
“Our choice may be delayed too long, I fear.”
13 At that he fixed his eyes upon the sun,
And made a center of his right-hand side
From which to move, then turned his other one.
16 “O you, sweet lamp, to whom I must confide
Our entry on this newest road,” he said,
“With here much-needed guidance, be our guide.
19 You warm the world, your light on it is shed;
If other grounds urge not in counter-style,
Then by your rays we always must be led.”
22 As much as here is counted for a mile
We had already journeyed there above
And, thanks to ready wills, in but a while.
25 We heard some spirits fly towards us but of
Them had no view as they called out on high
Kind invitations to a fare of love.
28 The first voice passed us two while flying by;
“Non habent vinum” was its shouted call;
It flew behind us, echoing its cry.[206]
31 Before it was no longer heard at all
From space traversed, one passing cried out strong:
“I am Orestes”; neither did it fall.[207]
34 “O Father, unto whom do there belong
These cries?” I said and heard a third one urge,
As I inquired: “Love those who’ve done you wrong.”
37 My kindly Master said: “This ring will purge
The sins of envy by its whip; that’s why
The cords are drawn from love to make its scourge.
40 The curb must be of counter-sounds, and I
Believe you’ll hear it soon, so I surmise,
Before you see the pass of pardon nigh.[208]
43 But through the air intently fix your eyes;
See people sitting up ahead once more,
Who all are seated where the cliffs arise.”
46 My eyes now opened wider than before;
I looked ahead at shades and saw the paints,
No different from the stone, their mantles bore.
49 A little farther on they cried their plaints;
“O Mary, pray for us,” I heard them say,
Along with “Michael, Peter,” and “All Saints.”
52 I don’t believe there walks the earth today
A man so hard that he would not be stung
By grief at what I saw then on the way.
55 For when I had approached so near among
Them that the actions were made plain of all,
From both my eyes was heavy anguish wrung.
58 Their haircloth covers seemed the coarsest pall,
And one of them, with shoulder propped, would stead
The next, with each supported by the wall.
61 Just so the blind who lack the means for bread
Will stand on pardon-days to beg their needs;[209]
And one upon his neighbor sinks his head
64 So that they wake in others pity’s deeds,
Which not by sound of words alone is done
But by a sight that no less sorely pleads.
67 As to the blind there does not reach the sun,
So of the shadows there of which I tell
The light of Heaven gives itself to none.
70 For all their lids are pierced and sewn as well
With iron thread as those are of a hawk,
Which, since untamed, in quiet will not dwell.
73 It seemed to me an outrage just to walk
And look at them, for I was still unseen;
I turned to my wise Counsel thus to talk,
76 Who knew quite well what I, still mute, might mean
And did not wait until I asked of him
But told me: “Speak with words both brief and keen.”
79 My Virgil came along the terrace rim,
On that side where a man could fall, no doubt,
Because no parapet surrounds its brim.
82 The other side held shades of those devout,
Those souls who through their horrid eyelid-seams
Wept tears that bathe their cheeks and pressed them out.
85 “You sure to see the lofty light’s great beams,”
I started, having turned around to some,
“Which is the one thing your desire esteems,
88 So may God’s grace soon wash away the scum
Upon your consciences so that, made clear,
The streams of memory might flow therefrom;
91 Do tell (for I shall hold the kindness dear)
If any souls among you chance to be
Italian—it might help them, if I hear.”
94 “O brother, citizens each one are we
Of one true city; what you meant to say
Was ‘who as pilgrim lived in Italy.’”
97 Since this reply was heard from one who lay
A bit beyond my station, it appeared,
I let myself be heard yet more that way.
100 And at a shade among the rest I peered;
She looked expectant—ask me how I knew,
She had, as blind men do, her chin upreared.
103 I said: “O spirit, who to climb subdue
Yourself, if you responded to my pleas,
Then let me know your name or country too.”
106 And she replied: “I once was Sienese;
I weep that He might let Himself be shown
To us and mend my sinful life with these.
109 I was not sage, though as Sapía known;[210]
For I was far more glad at harm to peers
Than ever at good fortune of my own.
112 And lest you think that I deceive your ears,
Hear, as I tell you, how my folly strayed
In the declining arc of all my years.
115 Near Colle were my citizens arrayed[211]
To join in battle with the enemy;
And unto God for what He willed I prayed.
118 When they were routed there, they turned to flee
With bitter steps; and when I saw the chase,
A joy unlike all others seized on me—
121 Such joy, I lifted up my shameless face
And cried to God: ‘I fear You now no more!’
Like blackbirds at good weather’s slightest trace.[212]
124 I sought for peace with God when on the shore
Of earthly life; but penance as of yet
Would not have lessened all the debt I bore
127 Did Peter Pettinaio not forget[213]
To mention me in holy prayers below
Because from charity he felt regret
130 For me. Who’s asking of our station, though,
As he moves on, and bears his eyes unwired,
And speaks with breath, as I believe to know?”
133 “My eyes,” I said, “shall yet be here required
For but short time for small is the offense
That, turning them in envy, is acquired.
136 The fear that holds my spirit in suspense
Is far more great of pains beneath us wrought,
And even now it weighs on me, I sense.”
139 “Who’s led you here among us, if you thought,”
She said, “that you’d return below anew?”
And I: “There’s one with me who’s yet said naught.
142 And I’m alive, O soul elect, thus do
Request of me some favor if down there
You’d have me move my mortal feet for you.”
145 She said: “To hear this is a thing so rare
It shows how great God’s love for you has been,
And therefore help me sometimes with your prayer.
148 I beg by what you most desire to win
If you should ever tread the Tuscan reign
That you restore my name among my kin,
151 Whom you shall see among a folk so vain
They’ll lose more hope in Talamone’s coast[214]
Than they have lost to find Diana’s lane.[215]
154 But there the admirals will lose the most.”[216]