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1: Cato, Warden of the Shore 1 The little ship of my intelligence furls sails, drops anchor, leaves the cruel sea. I stand upon the second kingdom’s beach 4 and now can sing of where each sinful soul is purified, made good by reaching up to paradise. O teach me, poetry! 7 Be with me Calliope, holy muse of epic song who treats voices that sing of lesser things as if unpardonable 10 magpie chattering! In Heaven’s clear height I saw sweet blueness deepening down to the horizon where that lover’s planet 13 Venus gladdened my eyes, shining above the constellation of the fishes, now rising from the sea. To the right I saw 16 a galaxy unknown to living folk except the first, before they came to sin – four great stars, points of a brilliant cross. 19 Poor northern sky, to be without that sight! Dropping my eyes I saw beside me one lit by that starlight, bearded and white-haired, his face so full of venerable might 22 I wanted to adore him as his son. “What are you,” he demanded, “you that flee eternal punishment? What guide, what lamp 25 lit your path out? Has Heaven changed its decree, letting the damned souls free? Say by what right you stand below my cliffs!” By word and hand 28 my guide made me bow knee and head then said, “We have not come by our own will. Hear why. When this man stood in peril of his soul 31 Heaven sent a lady, saying I should lead him through Hell up to the highest good. Now he has seen the deeps. May I show now 34 those sinners purified upon the steeps where you preside? Be kind to him. He seeks the liberty that you in Utica 37 perished to keep, shedding your coat of clay to proudly wear it on the Judgement Day. Our journey breaks no law. This man still lives. 40 Minos never judged him or me. I dwell in the virtuous ring of Hell, close to chaste Marcia, the wife who worships you. 43 For her sake let us climb the blessèd stairs that lead to Heaven’s grace. When I return to Limbo she will hear how kind you are.” 46 I saw this warden of the purging hill was Cato, Caesar’s foe, who stabbed himself 49 rather than see the Roman Empire kill the glorious Republic that he loved. Shaking his head he said, “Aye, Marcia 52 deserves all kindness, but since she has gone beyond death’s river, Acheron, and I stay here, why mention her? Since you obey 55 Heaven’s commands you need not use her name for I obey them too. Lead him you guide down to this island’s shore. Above the beach 58 in soft mud grow the reeds that never die. Pluck one of these and tie it round his waist. Wash his face first. Angels hate the sight 61 of grime from Hell. After, don’t come back here. The rising sun will show a better place to start your climb. Goodbye.” He disappeared. 64 I stood up when my leader said, “Dear child, this plain slopes seaward. Let’s do as he told.” A morning breeze fleeing before the dawn 67 came from the distant glitter of the sea. We crossed that lonely plain like wanderers seeking a path who fear they seek in vain. 70 The low sun’s level rays began to warm the turf we trod, when my guide paused beside a boulder’s shadow on a patch of grass 73 still misted with pearls of dew. I halted, knowing what he would do. He stooped, wet hands, washed my face clean of crusts left by fearful, pitiful tears, restoring how I looked 76 before invading Hell. We reached the shore no living foot had ever touched before. Here, as instructed, Virgil plucked a reed, 79 and as he bound it round my waist I saw a miracle, for where that rush once stood sprang up another, just as tall and good. 82 2: Newcomers 1 By now the sun had left the northern sky where at high noon it lights Jerusalem, leaving the Ganges in the deepest night. 4 Seen from our shore the sky above the sea took on a rosy glow, into which slid that golden sphere of light. We stood and gazed 7 like wanderers who tarry on a road before their journey starts. Then I beheld beneath the sun, across the ocean floor 10 a sight I hope to see again – brightness speeding so swiftly to us that no flight of bird could equal it. When I gazed back 13 from questioning my master with a look, it had grown brighter. On each side I saw a whiteness I could not make out, above 16 something becoming clearer as it neared. My master did not say a word until the whitenesses appeared as wings, and then 19 seeing who moved that ship he cried, “Bend knees, clasp hands, bow down before a cherubim of God, for you will soon meet more of these. See how without a sail or oar the ship 22 is driven by his Heaven-pointing wings – by pure eternal plumes that never moult.” The brightness of this dazzling bird of God 25 made
