As they stand watching this scene, a venerable old man (Cato, the guardian of the island) approaches and tells them to go to the seash.o.r.e and wipe off the stains of h.e.l.l with the reeds that grow there:

"The dawn had chased the matin hour of prime, Which fled before it, so that from afar I spied the trembling of the ocean stream.

"We traversed the deserted plain, as one Who, wandered from his track, thinks every step Trodden in vain till he regain the path.

"When we had come where yet the tender dew Strove with the sun, and in a place where fresh The wind breathed o'er it, while it slowly dried; Both hands extended on the watery gra.s.s My master placed, in graceful act and kind.

Whence I of his intent before apprized, Stretched out to him my cheeks suffused with tears.

There to my visage he anew restored That hue which the dun shades of h.e.l.l concealed.

"Then on the solitary sh.o.r.e arrived, That never sailing on its waters saw Man that could after measure back his course, He girt me in such manner as had pleased Him who instructed; and O strange to tell!

As he selected every humble plant, Wherever one was plucked another there Resembling, straightway in its place arose."

As they linger by the seaside, they suddenly see a bright light far off over the waters, which, as it approaches nearer, turns out to be a boat wafted by angelic wings and bearing to purgatory the souls of the saved, among them a musician, a friend of Dante's who at his request, sings one of the poet's own songs:

"Meanwhile we lingered by the water's brink, Like men, who, musing on their road, in thought Journey, while motionless the body rests.

When lo! as, near upon the hour of dawn, Through the thick vapors Mars with fiery beam Glares down in west, over the ocean floor; So seemed, what once again I hope to view, A light, so swiftly coming through the sea, No winged course might equal its career.

From which when for a s.p.a.ce I had withdrawn Mine eyes, to make inquiry of my guide, Again I looked, and saw it grown in size And brightness: then on either side appeared Something, but what I knew not, of bright hue, And by degrees from underneath it came Another. My preceptor silent yet Stood, while the brightness, that we first discerned, Opened the form of wings: then when he knew The pilot, cried aloud, 'Down, down; bend low Thy knees; behold G.o.d's angel: fold thy hands: Now shalt thou see true ministers indeed.

Lo! how all human means he sets at nought; So that nor oar he needs, nor other sail Except his wings, between such distant sh.o.r.es.

Lo! how straight up to heaven he holds them reared, Winnowing the air with those eternal plumes, That not like mortal hairs fall off or change.'

"As more and more toward us came, more bright Appeared the bird of G.o.d, nor could the eye Endure his splendor near: I mine bent down.

He drove ash.o.r.e in a small bark so swift And light, that in its course no wave it drank.

The heavenly steersman at the prow was seen, Visibly written Blessed in his looks.

Within, a hundred spirits and more there sat.

"'In Exitu Israel de Egypto,'

All with one voice together sang, with what In the remainder of that hymn is writ.

Then soon as with the sign of holy cross He blessed them, they at once leaped out on land: He, swiftly as he came, returned. The crew, There left, appear'd astounded with the place, Gazing around, as one who sees new sights.

"From every side the sun darted his beams, And with his arrowy radiance from mid heaven Had chased the Capricorn, when that strange tribe, Lifting their eyes toward us: 'If ye know, Declare what path will lead us to the mount.'

"Them Vergil answered: 'Ye suppose, perchance, Us well acquainted with this place: but here, We, as yourselves, are strangers. Not long erst We came, before you but a little s.p.a.ce, By other road so rough and hard, that now The ascent will seem to us as play.' The spirits, Who from my breathing had perceived I lived, Grew pale with wonder. As the mult.i.tude Flock round a herald sent with olive branch, To hear what news he brings, and in their haste Tread one another down; e'en so at sight Of me those happy spirits were fixed, each one Forgetful of its errand to depart Where, cleansed from sin, it might be made all fair.

"Then one I saw darting before the rest With such fond ardor to embrace me, I To do the like was moved. O shadows vain!

Except in outward semblance: thrice my hands I clasped behind it, they as oft return'd Empty into my breast again. Surprise I need must think was painted in my looks, For that the shadow smiled and backward drew.

To follow it I hastened, but with voice Of sweetness it enjoined me to desist.

Then who it was I knew, and pray'd of it, To talk with me it would a little pause.

It answered: 'Thee as in my mortal frame I loved, so loosed from it I love thee still, And therefore pause: but why walkest thou here?'

"'Not without purpose once more to return, Thou find'st me, my Casella, where I am, Journeying this way;' I said: 'but how of thee Hath so much time been lost?' He answered straight "'No outrage hath been done to me, if he, Who when and whom he chooses takes, hath oft Denied me pa.s.sage here; since of just will His will he makes. These three months past indeed, He, whoso chose to enter, with free leave Hath taken; whence I wandering by the sh.o.r.e Where Tiber's wave grows salt, of him gain'd kind Admittance, at that river's mouth, toward which His wings are pointed; for there always throng All such as not to Acheron descend.'

"Then I: '"If new law taketh not from thee Memory or custom of love-tuned song, That whilom all my cares had power to 'swage: Please thee therewith a little to console My spirit, that enc.u.mber'd with its frame, Traveling so far, of pain is overcome.'

"'Love, that discourses in my thoughts,' he then Began in such soft accents, that within The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide, And all who came with him, so well were pleased, That seemed nought else might in their thoughts have room.

"Fast fixed in mute attention to his notes We stood, when lo! that old man venerable Exclaiming, 'How is this, ye tardy spirits?

What negligence detains you loitering here?

Run to the mountain to cast off those scales, That from your eyes the sight of G.o.d conceal.'

"As a wild flock of pigeons, to their food Collected, blade or tares, without their pride Accustomed, and in still and quiet sort, If aught alarm them, suddenly desert Their meal, a.s.sailed by more important care; So I that new-come troop beheld, the song Deserting, hasten to the mountain side, As one who goes, yet, where he tends, knows not.

Nor with less hurried step did we depart."

Thus rebuked by Cato for delaying, even thus innocently, their first duty, which is to purge away their sins, the company of spirits breaks up and Dante and Vergil make their way to the mountain of purgatory, which lifts its seven terraces almost perpendicularly from the sea.

Before reaching the first of these terraces, however, they pa.s.s over a steep and rocky slope, ante-purgatory, as it may be called, where linger the souls of those who, although saved, neglected their repentance till late in life, or who died in contumacy with Holy Church.

Among the latter Dante sees Manfred, the unfortunate son of Frederick II.,

"Comely and fair and gentle of aspect,"

who was slain at Benevento, in 1266; and likewise Buonconte da Montefeltro, who was killed in the battle of Campaldino (1289), and whose account of the post-mortem fate of his body is singularly impressive; "There is nothing like it in literature," says Ruskin:

"I thus: 'From Campaldino's field what force or chance Drew thee, that ne'er thy sepulture was known?'

"'Oh!' answered he, 'at Casentino's foot A stream there courseth, named Archiano, sprung In Apennine above the hermit's seat.

E'en where its name is cancel'd, there came I, Pierced in the throat, fleeing away on foot, And b.l.o.o.d.ying the plain. Here sight and speech Fail'd me; and, finishing with Mary's name, I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd.

I will report the truth; which thou again Tell to the living. Me G.o.d's angel took, Whilst he of h.e.l.l exclaimed: "O thou from heaven: Say wherefore hast thou robb'd me? Thou of him The eternal portion bear'st with thee away, For one poor tear that he deprives me of.

But of the other, other rule I make."

"'Thou know'st how in the atmosphere collects That vapor dank, returning into water Soon as it mounts where cold condenses it.

That evil will, which in his intellect Still follows evil, came; and raised the wind And smoky mist, by virtue of the power Given by his nature. Thence the valley, soon As day was spent, he covered o'er with cloud, From Pratomagno to the mountain range; And stretched the sky above; so that the air Impregnate changed to water. Fell the rain; And to the fosses came all that the land Contained not; and, as mightiest streams are wont, To the great river, with such headlong sweep, Rushed, that nought stayed its course. My stiffened frame Laid at his mouth, the fell Archiano found, And dashed it into Arno; from my breast Loosening the cross, that of myself I made When overcome with pain. He hurled me on, Along the banks and bottom of his course; Then in his muddy spoils encircling wrapt."

After leaving Buonconte, Dante and Vergil make their way upward and finally come across the spirit of Sordello, the famous troubadour, a native of Mantua and thus a fellow citizen of Vergil. The cordiality with which they greet each other gives Dante an opportunity to vent his indignation at the discord existing in Italy:

"Ah, slavish Italy! thou inn of grief!

Vessel without a pilot in loud storm!

Lady no longer of fair provinces, But brothel-house impure! this gentle spirit, Even from the pleasant sound of his dear land Was prompt to greet a fellow citizen With such glad cheer: while now thy living ones In thee abide not without war; and one Malicious gnaws another; aye, of those Whom the same wall and the same moat contains.

Seek, wretched one! around thy seacoasts wide; Then homeward to thy bosom turn; and mark, If any part of thee sweet peace enjoy.

What boots it, that thy reins Justinian's hand Refitted, if thy saddle be unprest?

Nought doth he now but aggravate thy shame.

Ah, people! thou obedient still shouldst live, And in the saddle let thy Caesar sit, If well thou marked'st that which G.o.d commands."

As night is now coming on, during which upward progress cannot be made, Sordello conducts Dante and Vergil to a pleasant valley:

"Betwixt the steep and plain, a crooked path Led us traverse into the ridge's side, Where more than half the sloping edge expires.

Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refined, And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers Placed in that fair recess, in color all Had been surpa.s.sed, as great surpa.s.ses less.

Nor nature only there lavish'd her hues.

But of the sweetness of a thousand smells A rare and undistinguished fragrance made.

"'Salve Regina,' on the gra.s.s and flowers, Here chanting, I beheld those spirits sit, Who not beyond the valley could be seen."

Here Sordello points out the souls of mighty princes who left deep traces in the history of the times, among them the Emperor Rudolph of Germany, Peter of Aragon, Philip III. of France, and

"The king of simple life and plain,"

Henry III. of England. The scene that follows is one of the most celebrated, as well as beautiful in the Divine Comedy:

"Now was the hour that wakens fond desire In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell, And pilgrim newly on his road with love Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, That seems to mourn for the expiring day: When I, no longer taking heed to hear, Began, with wonder, from those spirits to mark One risen from its seat, which with its hand Audience implored. Both palms it joined and raised, Fixing its steadfast gaze toward the east, As telling G.o.d, 'I care for nought beside.'

"'Te Lucis Ante,' so devoutly then Came from its lip, and in so soft a strain, That all my sense in ravishment was lost.

And the rest after, softly and devout, Follow'd through all the hymn, with upward gaze Directed to the bright supernal wheels.

"I saw that gentle band silently next Look up, as if in expectation held, Pale and in lowly guise; and, from on high, I saw, forth issuing descend beneath, Two angels, with two flame-illumined swords, Broken and mutilated of their points.

Green as the tender leaves but newly born, Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green Beaten, they drew behind them, fanned in air.

A little over us one took his stand; The other lighted on the opposing hill; So that the troop were in the midst contained.

Well I descried the whiteness on their heads; But in their visages the dazzled eye Was lost, as faculty that by too much Is overpowered. 'From Mary's bosom both Are come,' exclaimed Sordello, 'as a guard Over the vale, 'gainst him, who hither tends, The serpent.' Whence not knowing by which path He came, I turned me round; and closely pressed All frozen, to my leader's trusted side."

"My insatiate eyes Meanwhile to heaven had traveled, even there Where the bright stars are slowest, as a wheel Nearest the axle: When my guide inquired: 'What there aloft, my son, has caught thy gaze?'

"I answered: 'The three torches, with which here The pole is all on fire.' He then to me: 'The four resplendent stars, thou saw'st this morn, Are there beneath; and these, risen in their stead.'

"While yet he spoke, Sordello to himself Drew him, and cried: 'Lo there our enemy!'

And with his hand pointed that way to look.

"Along the side, where barrier none arose Around the little vale, a serpent lay, Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food, Between the gra.s.s and flowers, the evil snake Came on, reverting oft his lifted head; And, as a beast that smooths its polished coat, Licking his back. I saw not, nor can tell, How those celestial falcons from their seat Moved, but in motion each one well descried.

Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes, The serpent fled; and, to their stations, back The angels up return'd with equal flight."

After conversing with several friends whom he meets here, Dante falls asleep and is carried thus unconscious by Lucia (symbol of divine grace) to the gate of purgatory proper. When he awakes the sun is two hours high. Three steps lead to the gate, one dark and broken, symbol of a "broken and a contrite heart"; one of smooth, white marble, symbol of confession; and one purple, repentance. On the threshold of diamond (the immovable foundation of Holy Church) sits an angel with a sword and two keys; with the former he cuts seven P's on Dante's forehead (the Latin word for sin, _peccatum_), and with the latter he opens the gate, which as it swings open sends forth a sound of heavenly music:

"Attentively I turned, Listening the thunder that first issued forth; And 'We praise thee, O G.o.d,' methought I heard, In accents blended with sweet melody.

The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound Of choral voices, that in solemn chant With organ mingle, and, now high and clear Come swelling, now float indistinct away."