Читать книгу PURGATORY - Данте Алигьери - Страница 9

3: The Foothills

1 Our pace became more dignified upon

the foothills of that mount where climbing joins

goodness and reason. Since he had let me halt

4 to hear a song, Virgil had said no word.

His noble mind, believing no fault small,

suffered the sting of being in the wrong.

7 The rising sun shone rosy on our backs.

I gladly viewed the upward slope ahead

then felt it incomplete, for only one

10 shadow lay on the ground before my feet.

Afraid that suddenly I climbed alone

I gasped with dread. My comforter enquired,

13 “Why, even now, do you distrust my aid?

In Naples, underneath a monument

my shadow is entombed among my dust.

16 That I am shadowless is not more strange

than all the starry spheres of Heaven are.

Admiring wonder is the right response

19 to everything beyond your wisdom’s range.

Thought alone cannot know the infinite

eternal Three-in-One creating all.

If human science could bring men to God 22

Mary need never have borne Jesus Christ,

or we in Limbo live unsatisfied

in outer Hell, far from the greatest good 25

where Homer, Plato, Aristotle dwell

with many more.” He fell silent again,

staring with troubled face on ground we trod 28

until we reached Mount Purgatory’s base.

The wildest mountainside in Italy

would look an easy staircase seen beside 31

this cliff too sheer, this granite precipice

too high and smooth for any mountaineer.

My master sighed and murmured, “Lacking wings, 34

we need to find a slope that legs can use.

It must exist. Do we turn left or right?”

He pondered where the ground met the rock wall. 37

I, looking round, saw, a sling-shot away,

a group of souls approaching from our left,

walking so slowly that at first I thought 40

they did not move at all. I shouted out,

“See Master! These may know where we should go.”

He looked, then spoke with confidence renewed. 43

“Indeed they may, my son. Let us enquire

and never cease to hope.” A thousand steps

brought us to where the flock of souls, like sheep, 46

walked timidly, heads bowed, behind a few

dignified leaders pacing slowly too.

49 “Hail, holy ones!” cried Virgil. “You have died

as Christians, so are sure of Heaven’s grace.

Unlike you we must ascend at once. Please

52 where is the right place? Do you know of one?”

The leaders halted, stared and then drew back.

Their flock was scared and huddled to the rock.

55 My shadow on their track caused this dismay.

Virgil declared, “You need not feel surprise.

I will explain. My friend is still alive,

58 his body therefore splits the light of day.

Heaven demands we climb without delay.

Where can we do so?” “Turn and go with us,”

61 a leader of these good souls said. We did,

walked at a slow pace. “Perhaps,” said one,

“you know my face?” I looked. He was fair-haired,

64 handsome, debonair, an eyebrow broken

by a scar. I admitted I did not,

whereupon, smiling, “Look at this,” he said,

67 opening his vest to show in his chest

a much worse wound, adding “I am Manfred,

ruler of Sicily, Tory warlord

70 who defied the Pope, so died by the sword.

As my blood flowed I gave my soul with tears

to Him who saves all sinners who repent,

73 even of crimes as horrible as mine.

The victors built a cairn over my bones.

He that comes to me I will not cast out,

Christ said that but Pope Clement disagreed, 76

had the cairn broken, bones scattered around,

on unholy ground battered by wind and rain.

We in this troop though excommunicate, 79

will be redeemed at last, though for each year

unconfessed souls normally wait to climb

the purifying stair to Heaven’s gate, 82

we under papal ban wait thirty more.

That time can be reduced by living souls.

I beg you please when back on Earth again, 85

tell my daughter Constance, Aragon’s queen,

mother of kings, to pray well for my soul.

Despite Pope Clement I am not in Hell.” 88