Rev. H. F. Cary - Purgatory (Canto. 13) lyrics

We reach'd the summit of the scale, and stood Upon the second bu*tress of that mount Which healeth him who climbs. A cornice there, Like to the former, girdles round the hill; Save that its arch with sweep less ample bends. Shadow nor image there is seen; all smooth The rampart and the path, reflecting nought But the rock's sullen hue. "If here we wait For some to question," said the bard, "I fear Our choice may haply meet too long delay." Then fixedly upon the sun his eyes He fastn'd, made his right the central point From whence to move, and turn'd the left aside. "O pleasant light, my confidence and hope, Conduct us thou," he cried, "on this new way, Where now I venture, leading to the bourn We seek. The universal world to thee Owes warmth and lustre. If no other cause Forbid, thy beams should ever be our guide." Far, as is measur'd for a mile on earth, In brief space had we journey'd; such prompt will Impell'd; and towards us flying, now were heard Spirits invisible, who courteously Unto love's table bade the welcome guest. The voice, that first? flew by, call'd forth aloud, "They have no wine;" so on behind us past, Those sounds reiterating, nor yet lost In the faint distance, when another came Crying, "I am Orestes," and alike Wing'd its fleet way. "Oh father!" I exclaim'd, "What tongues are these?" and as I question'd, lo! A third exclaiming, "Love ye those have wrong'd you." "This circuit," said my teacher, "knots the scourge For envy, and the cords are therefore drawn By charity's correcting hand. The curb Is of a harsher sound, as thou shalt hear (If I deem rightly), ere thou reach the pa**, Where pardon sets them free. But fix thine eyes Intently through the air, and thou shalt see A multitude before thee seated, each Along the shelving grot." Then more than erst I op'd my eyes, before me view'd, and saw Shadows with garments dark as was the rock; And when we pa**'d a little forth, I heard A crying, "Blessed Mary! pray for us, Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!" I do not think there walks on earth this day Man so remorseless, that he hath not yearn'd With pity at the sight that next I saw. Mine eyes a load of sorrow teemed, when now I stood so near them, that their semblances Came clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile Their cov'ring seem'd; and on his shoulder one Did stay another, leaning, and all lean'd Against the cliff. E'en thus the blind and poor, Near the confessionals, to crave an alms, Stand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk, So most to stir compa**ion, not by sound Of words alone, but that, which moves not less, The sight of mis'ry. And as never beam Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man, E'en so was heav'n a n***ard unto these Of his fair light; for, through the orbs of all, A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up, As for the taming of a haggard hawk. It were a wrong, methought, to pa** and look On others, yet myself the while unseen. To my sage counsel therefore did I turn. He knew the meaning of the mute appeal, Nor waited for my questioning, but said: "Speak; and be brief, be subtle in thy words." On that part of the cornice, whence no rim Engarlands its steep fall, did Virgil come; On the' other side me were the spirits, their cheeks Bathing devout with penitential tears, That through the dread impalement forc'd a way. I turn'd me to them, and "O shades!" said I, "Assur'd that to your eyes unveil'd shall shine The lofty light, sole object of your wish, So may heaven's grace clear whatsoe'er of foam Floats turbid on the conscience, that thenceforth The stream of mind roll limpid from its source, As ye declare (for so shall ye impart A boon I dearly prize) if any soul Of Latium dwell among ye; and perchance That soul may profit, if I learn so much." "My brother, we are each one citizens Of one true city. Any thou wouldst say, Who lived a stranger in Italia's land." So heard I answering, as appeal'd, a voice That onward came some space from whence I stood. A spirit I noted, in whose look was mark'd Expectance. Ask ye how? The chin was rais'd As in one reft of sight. "Spirit," said I, "Who for thy rise are tutoring (if thou be That which didst answer to me,) or by place Or name, disclose thyself, that I may know thee." "I was," it answer'd, "of Sienna: here I cleanse away with these the evil life, Soliciting with tears that He, who is, Vouchsafe him to us. Though Sapia nam'd In sapience I excell'd not, gladder far Of others' hurt, than of the good befell me. That thou mayst own I now deceive thee not, Hear, if my folly were not as I speak it. When now my years slop'd waning down the arch, It so bechanc'd, my fellow citizens Near Colle met their enemies in the field, And I pray'd God to grant what He had will'd. There were they vanquish'd, and betook themselves Unto the bitter pa**ages of flight. I mark'd the hunt, and waxing out of bounds In gladness, lifted up my shameless brow, And like the merlin cheated by a gleam, Cried, "It is over. Heav'n! I fear thee not." Upon my verge of life I wish'd for peace With God; nor repentance had supplied What I did lack of duty, were it not The hermit Piero, touch'd with charity, In his devout orisons thought on me. "But who art thou that question'st of our state, Who go'st to my belief, with lids unclos'd, And breathest in thy talk?"--"Mine eyes," said I, "May yet be here ta'en from me; but not long; For they have not offended grievously With envious glances. But the woe beneath Urges my soul with more exceeding dread. That nether load already weighs me down." She thus: "Who then amongst us here aloft Hath brought thee, if thou weenest to return?" "He," answer'd I, "who standeth mute beside me. I live: of me ask therefore, chosen spirit, If thou desire I yonder yet should move For thee my mortal feet."--"Oh!" she replied, "This is so strange a thing, it is great sign That God doth love thee. Therefore with thy prayer Sometime a**ist me: and by that I crave, Which most thou covetest, that if thy feet E'er tread on Tuscan soil, thou save my fame Amongst my kindred. Them shalt thou behold With that vain multitude, who set their hope On Telamone's haven, there to fail Confounded, more shall when the fancied stream They sought of Dian call'd: but they who lead Their navies, more than ruin'd hopes shall mourn."