CANTO XXVII. THE ARGUMENT. An angel beyond the flame sings Beati mundo corde, and invites the poets to enter. Dante hesitates, through fear of being burnt. Virgil encourages him, and informs him that it is the flame which separates him from Beatrice. The sound of her name decides him. While passing through it they hear the invitation, Venite, benedicti patris mei. On the other side a pathway appears within the rock, which they ascend; and being overtaken by night, sleep on the steps. His dream of Rachel and Leah. On awaking they proceed and reach the top, where Virgil formally resigns his charge, giving Dante up to his own guidance and choice until he shall meet with Beatrice. "TWAS when his earliest beams the Sun was throwing, While noon-tide glory shone on Ganges flood; 1 At Jerusalem the Sun (in Aries) was now rising; Spain (traversed by the Ebro, the ancient Iberus) was under Libra (the sign opposite Aries), consequently it was midnight there; and in India (watered by the Ganges) it was noonday. Therefore, on the mount of Purgatory, at the antipodes of Jerusalem, it was sunset. 2 Matthew v. 8. In tones with which no human voice could vie. "Unless the fire first bite, no path is granted: Enter it, holy souls, nor be dismay'd, But hear the song that yonder is descanted."1 "Twas thus he spoke, as our approach we made: And when I heard his accents, I became Like one who in the sepulchre is laid. 10 20 1 The song heard from beyond the flame was their guiding signal. 2 "I felt like one about to be entombed alive." him by baptism into death."-Rom. vi. 4. "Buried with 3 His fancy might here have been aided by the actual scenes which in those days were not uncommon- the burning of heretics. On the 1st of June, 1307, in Vercelli, Fra Dolcino was compelled to witness the burning alive by a slow fire of his devoted follower, Sister Margaret; after which he was carried in procession round the city, torn with red-hot pincers, and his own mangled body thrown into the glowing heap which had consumed her. The rest of his followers who had survived with him, underwent similar punishments. Dolcino and his adherents, about 3000 in number, had sustained a siege for two years in the mountains north-west of Novara and Vercelli, their destruction having been the object of a Papal crusade. Of indomitable courage, and a strategist of the first order, Dolcino was the Garibaldi of the Middle Ages. In every encounter with his enemies, whether assailed or assailing, he was successful; and at last only succumbed to frost and famine. The sympathies of a dark and bigoted age were with his persecutors; but the admiration of Dante for his heroism is not obscurely expressed.—See Inferno, xxviii. 56-60, and note. Remember, O remember: when we rode A thousand years, the flame thou might'st contemn : With both hands holding up thy garment's hem. 30 Then cast off dread; yea, cast all fear away; Plunge and pass through in full security." Yet still, against my conscience, I delay. When thus he saw my pertinacity, A little vex'd, "Now see, my son," he cries, As Pyramus, at Thisbe's name, his eyes 1 Inferno, xvii. 3 2 See Dan. iii. 27. 3 40 Pyramus, a youth of Babylon, became enamoured of Thisbe. Forbidden to marry by their parents, they corresponded through a chink in the wall that separated their dwellings. Having plighted their vows to each other, they agreed to meet at the tomb of Ninus, under a white mulberry-tree, beyond the walls of the city. Thisbe was earliest at the trysting-place, but the sudden appearance of a lioness drove her from the spot, and she took shelter in a neighbouring cave. But in her flight she dropped her veil, which the lioness found and besmeared with blood. Pyramus now arrived, and finding Thisbe's veil all bloody, concluded that she had been torn in pieces; whereon he stabbed himself. Thisbe, recovering from her fright, returned from the cave, and finding Pyramus mortally wounded, fell on the same sword which was yet reeking with his blood. Ovid, who relates the tale, has added the tradition referred to by Dante : : To Virgil turning, at that name I sped Which always in my mind precedence took. His head he nodded then : "How now?" he said; "Wouldst thou stop here ?"1 and then he smiled at me, As at an infant by an orange led. Into the fire before me then went he, Entreating Statius in the rear to pass, I would have plunged for coolness, if I could; To cheer me my good sire his way pursued Speaking of Beatrice alone and said, "Even now, it seems, by me her eyes are view'd." Comes on, here stay not, strive the pass to win, So that the level rays which feebly shone "The fruit of the tree when sprinkled by this homicide, 50 60 Was changed in its appearance; and the root, with blood thus moisten'd, Tinged with a crimson colour the depending mulberries." Metam. iv. 55—127. 1 "Wouldst thou stay here, when thou art separated from Beatrice, yet so near to her ?" 2 Matthew xxv. 34. 3 See John xii. 35. My guides and I had climb'd while toiling on, To climb though anxious, found the power was fled. As rest the goats that sported wantonly Up in the cliffs before they took their meat, Screen'd by the umbrage from the noontide heat, Watch'd by the shepherd on his staff who rests, And as the swain himself of sleep divests, To guard them from the wild and hungry beasts; But in that little I beheld the stars, Larger and brighter than their wont, on high. While I thus mused, and on their glittering cars 70 80 90 Thus gazed, sleep seized me; sleep which oft discerns Futurity, whose portal she unbars.2 It was the hour, I think, when Venus turns The orient bright, on this high mount first shining, The star that with love's fires for ever burns. I saw a lady, in her form combining 1 The direction of their journey, therefore, was now eastward. 2 See Canto ix. 16-18; and Inferno, xxvi. 7, 8, and note. |