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6: Of Italian States

1 Gamblers breaking the bank are thronged upon

by some who hope good luck rubs off on them,

and others wanting shares in what they gain.

4 Souls pressed on me like that, so very thick

I waved my hands in air to drive them back,

promising all these violently slain

7 to do the best I could. First, the good judge

stabbed in court by that man of blood, Tacco;

Guccio who, fleeing Campoldino,

10 was swallowed too by Arno’s stormy flood;

the Pisan who forgave the enemies

who slew his son; Frederick Novello;

13 Count Orso; Peter Brosse wrongly hanged

by the Queen of Brabant. (Let her beware

of joining ugly company in Hell.)

16 When free of these and others begging me

to tell their kindred they needed prayers

I begged my guide, “Master, enlighten me.

19 Your Aeneid says that divine decree

cannot be altered by the human will.

Surely that means these beg my help in vain?”

“I wrote plain truth,” said he, “but wrote before 22

God came in mercy to humanity,

was born as a divinely honest man

who suffered and defeated wretched death. 25

Since then, when justice is embraced by love

in a last moment of pure penitence,

justice and mercy form one healing flame. 28

Be patient if you do not understand.

Enlightenment awaits you high above,

smiling in bliss. Her name is Beatrice.” 31

I shouted, “Master, let us hurry up!

I am not tired now, and before sun sets

will climb up very fast to reach the top.” 34

“Before that Heavenly event,” said he,

“the sun will set twice more, but just ahead

sits one who may know an easier ascent.” 37

Him we approached was Lombard. With calm pride

he gazed on us as resting lions do

out of moving eyes. When Virgil asked 40

where lay the way up he did not say,

but asked from where we came. My leader said,

“Mantua,” at which the soul, leaping up, 43

embraced him, cried, “My city! Know that I,

Sordello, am poet of Mantua,

only excelled by one born long ago.” 46

Then Virgil happily embraced him too.

O Italy, you hostelry of slaves!

49 You vessel, captainless in stormy sea!

Why cannot souls who love their cities well

co-operate to keep their country whole?

52 Even within a single city wall

new money fights with old, each wrestling for

a strangle-hold, making alliances

55 with foreigners through bribery, bad pacts

which are not kept, preventing unity.

There is no peace within Italian shores.

58 Unlike beehives who recognise a queen

you are a brothel, ruled by squabbling whores.

The Emperor Justinian once made

61 a legal code to pacify his land

which other lands employ – not Italy,

which won’t submit to legal spurs and bit.

64 None is allowed to take the reins in hand.

Devout priests should obey our Lord’s command

and let a Caesar ride our Latin steed.

67 O German Albert, Holy Roman King,

all Europe should be yours, but you don’t heed

its central garden which has run to seed.

70 Come, govern us! Our wretched noblemen,

Montagues, Capulets, Filippeschi,

Monaldi dread each other! Unite us

73 under one head we all should recognise!

Rome, a poor widow, weeps for your great work

of restoration. Pity and help Rome

become the Queen of Christendom again 76

or pity your reputation. And may

almighty Jove, once crucified for us,

not turn away from our chaotic state. 79

Tyrants dominate Italian towns

where mob-rule is not led by rascal clowns.

My Florence, this digression won’t touch you 82

where citizens take public good to heart

and to their tongue. You are too smart for rule

by mob or tyrant. Athens and Sparta 85

did not legislate constantly like you.

Elsewhere folk dodge the burdens of the state –

your people grab for office before asked, 88

and so are peaceful, rich – except when not!

You change your constitution in a week,

laws, government and coinage restlessly, 91

improving nothing like a sick woman

tossing and turning in her bed and sure

each new position may achieve a cure. 94