Purgatory 9

Now she who shares the bed of old Tithonus,
abandoning the arms of her sweet lover,
grew white along the eastern balcony;

the heavens facing her were glittering
with gems set in the semblance of the chill
animal that assails men with its tail;

while night within the valley where we were
had moved across two of the steps it climbs,
and now the third step made night’s wings incline;

when I, who bore something of Adam with me,
feeling the need for sleep, lay down upon
the grass where now all five of us were seated.

At that hour close to morning when the swallow
begins her melancholy songs, perhaps
in memory of her ancient sufferings,

when, free to wander farther from the flesh
and less held fast by cares, our intellect’s
envisionings become almost divine—

in dream I seemed to see an eagle poised,
with golden pinions, in the sky: its wings
were open; it was ready to swoop down.

And I seemed to be there where Ganymede
deserted his own family when he
was snatched up for the high consistory.

Within myself I thought: “This eagle may
be used to hunting only here; its claws
refuse to carry upward any prey

found elsewhere.” Then it seemed to me that, wheeling
slightly and terrible as lightning, it
swooped, snatching me up to the fire’s orbit.

And there it seemed that he and I were burning;
and this imagined conflagration scorched
me so—I was compelled to break my sleep.

Just like the waking of Achilles when
he started up, casting his eyes about him,
not knowing where he was (after his mother

had stolen him, asleep, away from Chiron
and in her arms had carried him to Skyros,
the isle the Greeks would-later-make him leave);

such was my starting up, as soon as sleep
had left my eyes, and I went pale, as will
a man who, terrified, turns cold as ice.

The only one beside me was my comfort;
by now the sun was more than two hours high;
it was the sea to which I turned my eyes.

My lord said: “Have no fear; be confident,
for we are well along our way; do not
restrain, but give free rein to, all your strength.

You have already come to Purgatory:
see there the rampart wall enclosing it;
see, where that wall is breached, the point of entry.

Before, at dawn that ushers in the day,
when soul was sleeping in your body, on
the flowers that adorn the ground below,

a lady came; she said: ‘I am Lucia;
let me take hold of him who is asleep,
that I may help to speed him on his way.’

Sordello and the other noble spirits
stayed there; and she took you, and once the day
was bright, she climbed—I following behind.

And here she set you down, but first her lovely
eyes showed that open entryway to me;
then she and sleep together took their leave.”

Just like a man in doubt who then grows sure,
exchanging fear for confidence, once truth
has been revealed to him, so was I changed;

and when my guide had seen that I was free
from hesitation, then he moved, with me
behind him, up the rocks and toward the heights.

Reader, you can see clearly how I lift
my matter; do not wonder, therefore, if
I have to call on more art to sustain it.

Now we were drawing closer; we had reached
the part from which—where first I’d seen a breach,
precisely like a gap that cleaves a wall—

I now made out a gate and, there below it,
three steps—their colors different—leading to it,
and a custodian who had not yet spoken.

As I looked more and more directly at him,

I saw him seated on the upper step—
his face so radiant, I could not bear it;

and in his hand he held a naked sword,
which so reflected rays toward us that I,
time and again, tried to sustain that sight

in vain. “Speak out from there; what are you seeking?”
so he began to speak. “Where is your escort?
Take care lest you be harmed by climbing here.”

My master answered him: “But just before,
a lady came from Heaven and, familiar
with these things, told us: ‘That’s the gate; go there.'”

“And may she speed you on your path of goodness!”
the gracious guardian of the gate began
again. “Come forward, therefore, to our stairs.”

There we approached, and the first step was white
marble, so polished and so clear that I
was mirrored there as I appear in life.

The second step, made out of crumbling rock,
rough—textured, scorched, with cracks that ran across
its length and width, was darker than deep purple.

The third, resting above more massively,
appeared to me to be of porphyry,
as flaming red as blood that spurts from veins.

And on this upper step, God’s angel—seated
upon the threshold, which appeared to me
to be of adamant—kept his feet planted.

My guide, with much good will, had me ascend
by way of these three steps, enjoining me:
“Do ask him humbly to unbolt the gate.”

I threw myself devoutly at his holy
feet, asking him to open out of mercy;
but first I beat three times upon my breast.

Upon my forehead, he traced seven P’s
with his sword’s point and said: “When you have entered
within, take care to wash away these wounds.”

Ashes, or dry earth that has just been quarried,
would share one color with his robe, and from
beneath that robe he drew two keys; the one

was made of gold, the other was of silver;
first with the white, then with the yellow key,