Purgatorio
Dante's Dream of the Siren. The Fifth Circle: The Avaricious and Prodigal. Pope Adrian V. It was the hour
When the daily heat can no longer warm
the cold face of the moon,
overcome by earth's shadow, or perhaps by Saturn,
when fortune-tellers see their Greater Fortune
rising in the east before dawn
along a path that stays bright for long—
there came to me in dreams a stammering woman,
cross-eyed and twisted in her feet,
with severed hands and sallow skin.
I stared at her, and as the sun restores
frozen limbs that night has numbed,
so my gaze made her tongue flow freely,
straightened her posture in moments,
and colored her lost features
with the beauty that love desires.
When she had freed her voice this way,
she began to sing so sweetly
I could barely turn my thoughts away.
"I am," she sang, "I am the sweet Siren
who unmans sailors on the open sea,
so full of pleasure am I to hear.
I drew Ulysses from his wandering course
to my song, and whoever stays with me
rarely leaves, so completely do I satisfy."
Before her mouth had closed again,
a holy and alert Lady appeared
at my side to shame her.
"Virgil, O Virgil! Who is this?"
she said sternly, and he approached
with eyes fixed on that modest one.
She seized the other and tore open her front,
ripping her clothes to show me her belly—
I woke from the stench that poured out.
I turned my eyes, and good Virgil said:
"I've called you at least three times—get up and come.
Let's find the opening where you can enter."
I rose. Already the full light of day
filled all the circles of the Sacred Mountain,
and we walked with the new sun at our backs.
Following behind him, I carried my head
like someone heavy with thought,
making myself half an arch of a bridge,
when I heard spoken, "Come, the passage is here,"
in a voice so gentle and kind
we never hear such tones in this mortal world.
With wings spread wide like a swan's,
he who spoke to us guided us upward
between two walls of solid granite.
Then he moved his feathers and fanned us,
declaring blessed those "who mourn,"
for their souls shall be filled with comfort.
"What troubles you, that you keep staring at the ground?"
my Guide began to ask, after we had climbed
somewhat beyond the Angel.
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ASCENT TO THE FIFTH CIRCLE
“"What troubles you, that you keep staring at the ground?" / my Guide began to ask, after we had climbed / somewhat beyond the Angel.”
And I replied: "A new vision fills me with such unease,
bending me toward itself so powerfully
I cannot pull my thoughts away."
"Did you see," he said, "that ancient enchantress
who alone is now lamented above us?
Did you see how man frees himself from her?
Let that be enough—strike the earth with your heels
and lift your eyes to the lure that spins
from the Eternal King's vast revolutions."
Like a hawk that first looks down at its feet,
then turns toward the call and stretches forward
through desire for the food that draws it,
so I became, and climbed as far as the rock
splits open to give passage to those ascending,
until I reached where the circling begins.
When I emerged onto the fifth circle,
I saw people weeping there,
lying face-down, stretched flat on the ground.
"My soul cleaves to the pavement,"
I heard them say with sighs so deep
the words could hardly be understood.
"O chosen of God, whose sufferings
both Justice and Hope make lighter,
direct us toward the high ascents."
"If you have come safe from this prostration
and wish to find the fastest way,
always keep your right hands toward the outside."
So the Poet asked, and so was answered
by those somewhat ahead of us, from which
I understood what their words concealed.
I turned my eyes to my Lord's eyes,
and he nodded with a cheerful sign
at what my look of desire requested.
When I could move as I wished,
I positioned myself above that soul
whose words had earlier caught my attention,
saying: "O Spirit, in whom weeping ripens
that without which we cannot turn to God,
pause your greater care for me a moment.
Who were you, and why are your backs turned skyward?
Tell me, and would you have me obtain
anything there, from where I departed living?"
And he replied: "Why heaven turns
our backs to itself, you shall know,
but first, 'Know that I was Peter's successor.'
Between Sestri and Chiavari flows
a beautiful river, and from its name
the title of my family takes its honor.
For a month and little more I learned
how heavy the great mantle weighs on one
who keeps it from the mud—all other burdens feel like feathers.
My conversion came late—woe is me!
But when I was made Roman Shepherd,
I discovered that life was a lie.
I saw the heart found no rest there,
nor could one climb higher in that life,
so love for this life was kindled in me.
Until then I was a wretched soul,
separated from God and wholly greedy.
Now, as you see, I am punished for it here.
What avarice does is made clear
in the purification of these converted souls—
the Mountain holds no more bitter pain.
Just as our eyes never lifted themselves
upward, being fixed on earthly things,
so justice here has pressed them into earth.
As greed extinguished our love
for every good thing, destroying action,
so justice holds us here in restraint,
bound and imprisoned by hands and feet.
As long as it pleases the just Lord,
we shall remain motionless and prostrate."
I had fallen to my knees, wanting to speak,
but as I began, he became aware
just by listening to my reverence.
"What reason," he said, "has bent you down like this?"
And I replied: "Your dignity
standing made my conscience sting with remorse."
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THE AVARICIOUS—ADRIAN V
“"What reason," he said, "has bent you down like this?" / And I replied: "Your dignity / standing made my conscience sting with remorse."”
"Straighten your legs and raise yourself up, brother,"
he answered. "Do not err—I am a fellow servant
with you and the others under one power.
If you have ever heard that holy gospel sound
that says 'they neither marry,'
you can clearly see why I speak this way.
Now go—I will not have you linger longer,
because your staying hinders my weeping,
with which I ripen what you have described.
I have a granddaughter on earth named Alagia,
good in herself, unless our house
corrupts her by its evil example—
she alone remains to me there."