Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Purgatory — Edition Insights

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Authors: Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321, Cary, Henry Francis, 1772-1844 [Translator] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2004 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Epic poetry, Italian -- Translations into English; Italian poetry -- To 1400 -- Translations into English Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 42,101

Reading time 184 min

Text sections 34

This digital edition of Divine Comedy, Cary's Translation, Purgatory — Edition Insights is described by source-level measurements including 42,101 words, 3 hr 4 min estimated reading time, and 34 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 25.6 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Epic poetry, Italian -- Translations into English,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #1006

Henry Francis Cary's 19th-century translation of Dante's Purgatory, the second canticle of the Divine Comedy, rendered in blank verse. The excerpts show a journey up Mount Purgatory with Virgil as guide, encountering penitent souls and visionary dreams, while Cary's diction shapes the poem's moral landscape.

Editorial Edition Score 4.8/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg1006

Read the Text

yes and bosom fill’d with grief. The radiant planet, that to love invites, Made all the orient laugh, and veil’d beneath The Pisces’ light, that in his escort came.

To the right hand I turn’d, and fix’d my mind On the other pole attentive, where I saw Four stars ne’er seen before save by the ken Of our first parents. Heaven of their rays Seem’d joyous. O thou northern site, bereft Indeed, and widow’d, since of these depriv’d!

As from this view I had desisted, straight Turning a little tow’rds the other pole, There from whence now the wain had disappear’d, I saw an old man standing by my side Alone, so worthy of rev’rence in his look, That ne’er from son to father more was ow’d. Low down his beard and mix’d with hoary white Descended, like his locks, which parting fell Upon his breast in double fold. The beams Of those four luminaries on his face So brightly shone, and with such radiance clear Deck’d it, that I beheld him as the sun.

“Say who are ye, that stemming the blind stream, Forth from th’ eternal prison-house have fled?” He spoke and moved those venerable plumes. “Who hath conducted, or with lantern sure Lights you emerging from the depth of night, That makes the infernal valley ever black? Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain’d, That thus, condemn’d, ye to my caves approach?”

My guide, then laying hold on me, by words And intimations given with hand and head, Made my bent knees and eye submissive pay Due reverence; then thus to him replied.

“Not of myself I come; a Dame from heaven Descending, had besought me in my charge To bring. But since thy will implies, that more Our true condition I unfold at large, Mine is not to deny thee thy request. This mortal ne’er hath seen the farthest gloom. But erring by his folly had approach’d So near, that little space was left to turn. Then, as before I told, I was dispatch’d To work his rescue, and no way remain’d Save this which I have ta’en. I have display’d Before him all the regions of the bad; And purpose now those spirits to display, That under thy command are purg’d from sin. How I have brought him would be long to say. From high descends the virtue, by whose aid I to thy sight and hearing him have led. Now may our coming please thee. In the search Of liberty he journeys: that how dear They know, who for her sake have life refus’d. Thou knowest, to whom death for her was sweet In Utica, where thou didst leave those weeds, That in the last great day will shine so bright. For us the’ eternal edicts are unmov’d: He breathes, and I am free of Minos’ power, Abiding in that circle where the eyes Of thy chaste Marcia beam, who still in look Prays thee, O hallow’d spirit! to own her shine. Then by her love we’ implore thee, let us pass Through thy sev’n regions; for which best thanks I for thy favour will to her return, If mention there below thou not disdain.”

“Marcia so pleasing in my sight was found,” He then to him rejoin’d, “while I was there, That all she ask’d me I was fain to grant. Now that beyond the’ accursed stream she dwells, She may no longer move me, by that law, Which was ordain’d me, when I issued thence. Not so, if Dame from heaven, as thou sayst, Moves and directs thee; then no flattery needs. Enough for me that in her name thou ask. Go therefore now: and with a slender reed See that thou duly gird him, and his face Lave, till all sordid stain thou wipe from thence. For not with eye, by any cloud obscur’d, Would it be seemly before him to come, Who stands the foremost minister in heaven. This islet all around, there far beneath, Where the wave beats it, on the oozy bed Produces store of reeds. No other plant, Cover’d with leaves, or harden’d in its stalk, There lives, not bending to the water’s sway. After, this way return not; but the sun Will show you, that now rises, where to take The mountain in its easiest ascent.”

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Henry Francis Cary's translation of Dante's Purgatory opens with a striking shift in tone: the poet declares his "light bark" now sails "o'er better waves," leaving the "cruel sea" of Hell behind. The first canto immediately establishes a new geography—the "sweet hue of eastern sapphire" and four stars "ne'er seen before save by the ken of our first parents"—that signals a realm of hope and moral ascent. Cary's blank verse, with its formal inversions and Latinate vocabulary, gives the poem a stately, measured pace that differs markedly from modern translations. The catalog subjects classify this work as epic poetry and Italian poetry translated into English, but the excerpts reveal a text equally concerned with dream visions, psychological allegory, and the gradual purification of the soul through encounters with penitents and angelic figures.

Cary's Diction and the Moral Landscape

Cary's translation choices shape how readers perceive Purgatory's moral geography. In Canto I, the pilgrim sees four stars "ne'er seen before save by the ken / Of our first parents," a reference to the primal innocence of Eden. The old man Cato, who guards the mountain, speaks in stern, legalistic terms: "Are the firm statutes of the dread abyss / Broken, or in high heaven new laws ordain'd?" This language frames Purgatory as a place of divine order and restorative justice. Later, in Canto XIX, the Siren's seductive song uses the word "warbling" to describe her voice, and she claims to have "Ulysses by my lay / Enchanted drawn." The contrast between the Siren's alluring speech and the "stern voice" of the holy dame who exposes her belly as "loathsome" underscores Cary's technique of using sensory details—sound, sight, smell—to embody moral states. The translation consistently pairs abstract concepts with concrete imagery, making the penitential process tangible.

Dreams, Visions, and the Structure of Penance

The excerpts show that dreams and visions are central to the narrative structure of Purgatory. In Canto XVIII, the pilgrim's eye is "clos'd, and meditation chang'd to dream" after hearing souls shout about those who "for their portion chose / Life without glory." This dream sequence leads directly into Canto XIX's more elaborate vision of the Siren, which functions as an allegorical test. The Siren appears with "lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant, / Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale," but the pilgrim's look transforms her into a beautiful singer. Virgil and a holy dame intervene, tearing her robes to reveal a foul smell that wakes the pilgrim. This pattern—falling asleep, encountering a symbolic figure, being awakened by a guide—recurs throughout the canticle. Cary's translation preserves the dream logic, where moral lessons emerge through surreal, sensory experiences rather than direct instruction. The angel who later appears with "swan-like wings" and speaks "in tone so soft and mild" reinforces the idea that penance is a gradual, often disorienting process.

The Role of Virgil and the Pilgrim's Interiority

Virgil's function in Purgatory shifts from guide through Hell to a more complex figure who interprets visions and corrects the pilgrim's focus. In Canto XIX, after the Siren dream, Virgil says, "At the least / Three times my voice hath call'd thee. Rise, begone." This detail—the repeated call—suggests the pilgrim's tendency to become absorbed in inner thoughts, a trait Cary emphasizes through phrases like "o'ercharg'd with thought" and "bends him to the likeness of an arch." When the pilgrim admits to "surmisings strange and anxious doubts," Virgil instructs him to "let thy heels spurn the earth, and thy rais'd ken / Fix on the lure, which heav'n's eternal King / Whirls in the rolling spheres." The translation uses the image of a falcon looking down then turning skyward to illustrate the necessary redirection of attention. Cary's Virgil is not merely a teacher but a disciplinarian of perception, constantly steering the pilgrim away from introspection toward divine order. The pilgrim's interiority, however, remains vivid through his emotional responses—"unwonted joy," "grief," "anxious doubts"—which Cary renders with psychological precision.

Readers approaching Cary's Purgatory should attend to the translator's rhythmic choices and the way he handles Dante's original terza rima. The blank verse creates a formal, almost liturgical tone that suits the poem's themes of purification and ascent. The excerpts reveal a work rich in dream allegory, moral geography, and the interplay between sensory experience and spiritual insight. Cary's version rewards careful reading for its linguistic texture and its fidelity to the poem's structure of gradual revelation.

Cary’s Dante walks with penitents carrying their heaviness upward, each step a quiet unburdening. That same ache lingers in the gently worn verse of The first of May: a new version of a celebrated modern ballad sixth edition — Key Ideas to Explore, where a single morning holds back a whole season of regret. I kept thinking of that mountain light after closing the book.