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1: Cato, Warden of the Shore
1 The little ship of my intelligence
furls sails, drops anchor, leaves the cruel sea.
I stand upon the second kingdom’s beach
4 and now can sing of where each sinful soul
is purified, made good by reaching up
to paradise. O teach me, poetry!
7 Be with me Calliope, holy muse
of epic song who treats voices that sing
of lesser things as if unpardonable
10 magpie chattering! In Heaven’s clear height
I saw sweet blueness deepening down to
the horizon where that lover’s planet
13 Venus gladdened my eyes, shining above
the constellation of the fishes, now
rising from the sea. To the right I saw
16 a galaxy unknown to living folk
except the first, before they came to sin –
four great stars, points of a brilliant cross.
19 Poor northern sky, to be without that sight!
Dropping my eyes I saw beside me one
lit by that starlight, bearded and white-haired,
his face so full of venerable might 22
I wanted to adore him as his son.
“What are you,” he demanded, “you that flee
eternal punishment? What guide, what lamp 25
lit your path out? Has Heaven changed its decree,
letting the damned souls free? Say by what right
you stand below my cliffs!” By word and hand 28
my guide made me bow knee and head then said,
“We have not come by our own will. Hear why.
When this man stood in peril of his soul 31
Heaven sent a lady, saying I should
lead him through Hell up to the highest good.
Now he has seen the deeps. May I show now 34
those sinners purified upon the steeps
where you preside? Be kind to him. He seeks
the liberty that you in Utica 37
perished to keep, shedding your coat of clay
to proudly wear it on the Judgement Day.
Our journey breaks no law. This man still lives. 40
Minos never judged him or me. I dwell
in the virtuous ring of Hell, close to
chaste Marcia, the wife who worships you. 43
For her sake let us climb the blessèd stairs
that lead to Heaven’s grace. When I return
to Limbo she will hear how kind you are.” 46
I saw this warden of the purging hill
was Cato, Caesar’s foe, who stabbed himself
49 rather than see the Roman Empire kill
the glorious Republic that he loved.
Shaking his head he said, “Aye, Marcia
52 deserves all kindness, but since she has gone
beyond death’s river, Acheron, and I
stay here, why mention her? Since you obey
55 Heaven’s commands you need not use her name
for I obey them too. Lead him you guide
down to this island’s shore. Above the beach
58 in soft mud grow the reeds that never die.
Pluck one of these and tie it round his waist.
Wash his face first. Angels hate the sight
61 of grime from Hell. After, don’t come back here.
The rising sun will show a better place
to start your climb. Goodbye.” He disappeared.
64 I stood up when my leader said, “Dear child,
this plain slopes seaward. Let’s do as he told.”
A morning breeze fleeing before the dawn
67 came from the distant glitter of the sea.
We crossed that lonely plain like wanderers
seeking a path who fear they seek in vain.
70 The low sun’s level rays began to warm
the turf we trod, when my guide paused beside
a boulder’s shadow on a patch of grass
73 still misted with pearls of dew. I halted,
knowing what he would do. He stooped, wet hands,
washed my face clean of crusts left by fearful,
pitiful tears, restoring how I looked 76
before invading Hell. We reached the shore
no living foot had ever touched before.
Here, as instructed, Virgil plucked a reed, 79
and as he bound it round my waist I saw
a miracle, for where that rush once stood
sprang up another, just as tall and good. 82
2: Newcomers
1 By now the sun had left the northern sky
where at high noon it lights Jerusalem,
leaving the Ganges in the deepest night.
4 Seen from our shore the sky above the sea
took on a rosy glow, into which slid
that golden sphere of light. We stood and gazed
7 like wanderers who tarry on a road
before their journey starts. Then I beheld
beneath the sun, across the ocean floor
10 a sight I hope to see again – brightness
speeding so swiftly to us that no flight
of bird could equal it. When I gazed back
13 from questioning my master with a look,
it had grown brighter. On each side I saw
a whiteness I could not make out, above
16 something becoming clearer as it neared.
My master did not say a word until
the whitenesses appeared as wings, and then
19 seeing who moved that ship he cried, “Bend knees,
clasp hands, bow down before a cherubim
of God, for you will soon meet more of these.
See how without a sail or oar the ship 22
is driven by his Heaven-pointing wings –
by pure eternal plumes that never moult.”
The brightness of this dazzling bird of God 25
made