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Purgatorio XXX. 13–33, 85–99, XXXI. 13–21.
EVEN as the Blessed, at the final summons, | |
| Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave, | |
| Wearing again the garments of the flesh, | |
| So, upon that celestial chariot, | |
| A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis, | 5 |
| Ministers and messengers of life eternal. | |
| They all were saying, “Benedictus quivenis,” | |
| And scattering flowers above and round about, | |
| “Manibus o date lilia plenis.” | |
| Oft have I seen, at the approach of day, | 10 |
| The orient sky all stained with roseate hues, | |
| And the other heaven with light serene adorned, | |
| And the sun’s face uprising, overshadowed, | |
| So that, by temperate influence of vapors, | |
| The eye sustained his aspect for long while; | 15 |
| Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers, | |
| Which from those hands angelic were thrown up, | |
| And down descended inside and without, | |
| With crown of olive o’er a snow-white veil, | |
| Appeared a lady, under a green mantle, | 20 |
| Vested in colors of the living flame. * * * * * | |
| Even as the snow, among the living rafters | |
| Upon the back of Italy, congeals, | |
| Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian winds, | |
| And then, dissolving, filters through itself, | 25 |
| Whene’er the land, that loses shadow, breathes, | |
| Like as a taper melts before a fire, | |
| Even such I was, without a sigh or tear, | |
| Before the song of those who chime forever | |
| After the chiming of the eternal spheres; | 30 |
| But, when I heard in those sweet melodies | |
| Compassion for me, more than had they said, | |
| “Oh wherefore, lady, dost thou thus consume him?” | |
| The ice, that was about my heart congealed, | |
| To air and water changed, and, in my anguish, | 35 |
| Through lips and eyes came gushing from my breast. * * * * * | |
| Confusion and dismay, together mingled, | |
| Forced such a feeble “Yes!” out of my mouth, | |
| To understand it one had need of sight. | |
| Even as a cross-bow breaks, when’t is discharged, | 40 |
| Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow, | |
| And with less force the arrow hits the mark; | |
| So I gave way beneath this heavy burden, | |
| Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs, | |
| And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage. | 45 |
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