Purgatorio
Dante's Dream of the Eagle. The Gate of Purgatory and the Angel. Seven P's. The Keys. The concubine of old Tithonus
Dawn gleamed white on the eastern horizon,
emerging from the arms of her sweet lover.
Her forehead blazed with gems arranged
in the shape of that cold constellation,
the Scorpion that strikes nations with its tail.
Night had already climbed two of the steps
by which she ascends, and now the third
was folding down its wings,
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TWILIGHT
“Dawn gleamed white on the eastern horizon, / emerging from the arms of her sweet lover.”
when I, carrying something of Adam within me,
conquered by sleep, stretched out upon the grass
where all five of us had been sitting.
Just at the hour when the little swallow
begins her mournful song near morning,
perhaps remembering her ancient sorrows,
and when the human mind, wandering
further from flesh and less imprisoned by thought,
becomes almost prophetic in its visions—
in dreams I seemed to see an eagle
suspended in the sky, with golden feathers,
wings spread wide, poised to dive.
This was the place, it seemed to me,
where Ganymede was abandoned by his people
when he was swept up to the high assembly.
I thought to myself: perhaps this eagle strikes
only here out of habit, and disdains elsewhere
to carry anyone up in its talons.
Then, wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me
terrible as lightning, it descended
and snatched me upward even to the sphere of fire.
There it seemed that both he and I were burning,
and the imagined flames scorched me so intensely
that my sleep shattered of necessity.
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THE EAGLE
“and snatched me upward even to the sphere of fire. / There it seemed that both he and I were burning,”
Not otherwise did Achilles startle awake,
turning his awakened eyes around him,
not knowing where he was,
when his mother secretly carried him
sleeping in her arms from Chiron to Scyros,
from where the Greeks later retrieved him—
so I started up when sleep fled from my face,
and I grew pale as one who freezes with terror.
Only my Guide was at my side,
the sun was more than two hours high,
and my face was turned toward the sea.
"Don't be afraid," my Lord said,
"Be confident, for all goes well with us.
Don't hold back—put forth all your strength.
You have finally arrived at Purgatory.
See there the cliff that encircles it,
see there the entrance where it appears broken.
Earlier, at dawn before the day,
while your soul slept
upon the flowers that adorn the valley below,
a Lady came and said: 'I am Lucia.
Let me lift this sleeping one
so I can ease his journey.'
Sordello and the other noble spirits remained behind.
She took you, and as day brightened,
she came upward, and I followed in her steps.
She laid you here, and first her beautiful eyes
showed me that open entrance,
then she and sleep departed together."
Like one whose doubts are laid to rest,
who changes fear to confidence
after the truth has been revealed to him,
so I was transformed. And when my Leader
saw me free from anxiety, he moved up along the cliff
and I followed behind him toward the heights.
Reader, you can see how I elevate my subject here,
so don't marvel if I strengthen it with greater art.
We drew nearer and reached the place
where I first noticed what looked like a crack
splitting a wall—I saw a gate
with three steps below it, each a different color,
leading upward, and a gatekeeper
who had not yet spoken a word.
As I opened my eyes wider and wider,
I saw him seated on the highest step,
his face so brilliant I could not endure it.
In his hand he held a naked sword
that reflected the sun's rays back at us
so fiercely I kept lifting my eyes in vain.
"Speak from where you stand—what do you want?"
he began to call out. "Where is your escort?
Be careful that coming here doesn't harm you!"
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THE PORTALS OF PURGATORY
“that reflected the sun's rays back at us / so fiercely I kept lifting my eyes in vain. / "Speak from where you stand—what do you want?"”
"A Lady of Heaven, familiar with these matters,"
my Master answered, "just now told us:
'Go there—that is the gate.'"
"And may she speed your steps toward all good,"
the courteous guardian began again.
"Come forward then to our stairs."
We approached, and the first step
was white marble, so polished and smooth
I saw myself reflected as I truly am.
The second was darker than deep blue,
made of rough, burned stone
cracked lengthwise and across.
The third, resting massively on top,
seemed to me like porphyry,
as flame-red as blood spurting from a vein.
The Angel of God held both feet
on this highest step, seated on the threshold
that appeared to me like diamond.
My Guide drew me willingly up the three steps,
saying: "Humbly ask him to undo the lock."
I cast myself devoutly at the holy feet,
begging for mercy that he open the gate,
but first I struck my breast three times.
Seven P's he inscribed upon my forehead
with his sword's point, saying:
"See that you wash these wounds when you are within."
Ashes, or dry excavated earth—
his garments were that same color,
and from beneath them he drew forth two keys.
One was gold, the other silver.
First with the white, then with the yellow,
he worked the door until I was satisfied.
"Whenever either of these keys fails
so that it doesn't turn properly in the lock,"
he said to us, "this entrance will not open.
One is more precious, but the other requires
more skill and wisdom before it unlocks,
for it is the one that loosens the knot.
I have them from Peter, and he instructed me
to err rather in opening than in keeping shut,
if people only prostrate themselves at my feet."
Then he pushed open the portals of the sacred door,
exclaiming: "Enter, but I warn you—
whoever looks back returns outside."
And when the hinges of that consecrated gate
turned in their sockets—
hinges of massive, resonant metal—
Tarpeia roared not so loud nor seemed so harsh
when good Metellus was torn from it,
leaving it stripped bare thereafter.
At the first thunderous sound I turned, alert,
and seemed to hear "Te Deum laudamus"
in voices blended with sweet melody.
What I heard gave me exactly the impression
we usually get when people sing with the organ—
sometimes we hear the words, and sometimes we don't.