Now nothing could delay our upward climb—
the sun had left its midday circle in Taurus,
and night had claimed Scorpio's domain.
So like a man who never hesitates
but walks his path no matter what appears,
when necessity's sharp spur drives him forward,
we entered through that narrow cleft,
climbing the stairway single file,
its tightness forcing climbers apart.
And like a young stork lifting its wing
with longing to take flight, yet lacking courage
to leave the nest, letting the wing fall back—
so was I, with my desire to ask
kindled then quenched, making those movements
of one preparing to speak.
Despite our rapid pace,
my gentle father did not hold back, but said:
"Release the arrow of speech
you've drawn back to the string."
Confident now, I opened my mouth and began:
"How can someone grow thin
where no need for food exists?"
"If you remembered how Meleager
wasted away as the burning brand consumed,
this wouldn't seem so bitter to you.
And if you'd think how your own image
trembles in a mirror with each trembling motion,
what seems hard would soften in understanding.
But so your wish might find fulfillment,
here stands Statius—I call on him and beg
he be the healer of your wounds."
"If I reveal eternal judgment to him
while you are present," Statius replied,
"let my excuse be that I cannot refuse you."
Then he began: "Son, if your mind
contemplates and receives these words of mine,
they'll light the way to your 'How can this be?'
Perfect blood, never absorbed
into those thirsty veins, remaining
like food you remove from the table,
acquires in the heart, for all human limbs,
the power to give form—being that blood
which flows through veins to become those limbs.
Digested again, it descends to where
silence serves better than speech,
then drops upon another's blood
in nature's vessel.
There one mingles with the other—
one meant to be passive, one active
by virtue of the perfect place it springs from.
United, they begin their work:
first coagulating, then bringing life
to what they've made substantial.
The active power, having become a soul
like a plant's—though different in this:
the plant has arrived while this is still traveling—
then works until it moves and feels
like sea-foam, and begins
organizing the faculties it carries.
Now, son, the power from the father's heart
expands and extends itself,
where nature focuses on every limb.
But how the animal becomes human—
this you don't yet see. This very point
led a wiser man than you to err,
making him separate in his teaching
the soul from the possible intellect,
seeing no organ it could claim.
Open your heart to the approaching truth:
know that as soon as the brain's structure
is perfect in the fetus,
the Prime Mover turns toward it, pleased
at nature's great artistry, and breathes in
a new spirit, complete with power,
which draws into its own substance
what it finds active there,
becoming one soul that lives, feels, and reflects upon itself.
So you'll wonder less at what I say,
consider the sun's heat becoming wine
when joined with juice flowing from the vine.
When Lachesis has no more thread,
the soul separates from flesh and bears with it,
in potential, both human and divine nature.
All other faculties fall silent—
memory, intelligence, and will
act far more vigorously than before.
Without pause, it falls miraculously
to one shore or the other,
there first learning which path is its own.
As soon as place encircles it,
the forming power radiates around
as it did, and as much, in living limbs.
And as air, when full of rain,
adorns itself with diverse colors
from alien rays reflected in it,
so the neighboring air shapes itself
into that form which the soul,
now stationary, impresses upon it.
Then, like the little flame
that follows fire wherever it moves,
the new form follows the spirit.
Since it takes its appearance from this,
it's called a shade, and from this
organizes every sense, even sight.
From this we speak and laugh,
from this we form our tears and sighs
you may have heard upon the mountain.
As our desires and other feelings move us,
so the shade takes shape—
this is the cause of what amazes you."
Now we had reached the final circle
and turned toward the right,
our attention caught by another concern.
Here the bank shoots forth flames of fire,
while the ledge breathes upward a wind
that drives them back and holds them off.
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THE SEVENTH CIRCLE
“and turned toward the right, / our attention caught by another concern. / Here the bank shoots forth flames of fire,”
So we had to walk the open side,
one by one—and I feared the fire
on this side, the drop on that.
My guide said: "Along this place
you must keep your eyes on a tight rein,
since error comes so easily here."
"Summae Deus clementiae"—I heard this
sung within the heart of the great burning,
making me no less eager to turn and look.
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THE SEVENTH CIRCLE
“you must keep your eyes on a tight rein, / since error comes so easily here." / "Summae Deus clementiae"—I heard this”
I saw spirits walking through the flames,
so I divided my gaze between
my own steps and theirs.
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THE SEVENTH CIRCLE—THE LUSTFUL
“sung within the heart of the great burning, / making me no less eager to turn and look. / I saw spirits walking through the flames,”
After the hymn's conclusion,
they shouted aloud: "Virum non cognosco!"
Then began the hymn again, voices low.
When this ended too, they cried:
"Diana ran into the woods
and drove out Helice, who had felt Venus's poison."
Then they returned to song, then called out
the names of wives and husbands who were chaste,
as virtue and marriage vows require.
I believe this practice serves them
for all the time the fire burns them—
with such care and nourishment
the final wound must be healed.