Divine Comedy, Longfellow's Translation, Purgatory — Story, Setting & Ideas
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For Divine Comedy, Longfellow's Translation, Purgatory — Story, Setting & Ideas, the stored edition analysis reports 41,609 words, 3 hr 1 min estimated reading time, and 34 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 28.7 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.
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Read the Text
the cloudless aspect Of the pure air, as far as the first circle,
Unto mine eyes did recommence delight Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast.
The beauteous planet, that to love incites, Was making all the orient to laugh, Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort.
To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind Upon the other pole, and saw four stars Ne’er seen before save by the primal people.
Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven. O thou septentrional and widowed site, Because thou art deprived of seeing these!
When from regarding them I had withdrawn, Turning a little to the other pole, There where the Wain had disappeared already,
I saw beside me an old man alone, Worthy of so much reverence in his look, That more owes not to father any son.
A long beard and with white hair intermingled He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses, Of which a double list fell on his breast.
The rays of the four consecrated stars Did so adorn his countenance with light, That him I saw as were the sun before him.
“Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river, Have fled away from the eternal prison?” Moving those venerable plumes, he said:
“Who guided you? or who has been your lamp In issuing forth out of the night profound, That ever black makes the infernal valley?
The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken? Or is there changed in heaven some council new, That being damned ye come unto my crags?”
Then did my Leader lay his grasp upon me, And with his words, and with his hands and signs, Reverent he made in me my knees and brow;
Then answered him: “I came not of myself; A Lady from Heaven descended, at whose prayers I aided this one with my company.
But since it is thy will more be unfolded Of our condition, how it truly is, Mine cannot be that this should be denied thee.
This one has never his last evening seen, But by his folly was so near to it That very little time was there to turn.
As I have said, I unto him was sent To rescue him, and other way was none Than this to which I have myself betaken.
I’ve shown him all the people of perdition, And now those spirits I intend to show Who purge themselves beneath thy guardianship.
How I have brought him would be long to tell thee. Virtue descendeth from on high that aids me To lead him to behold thee and to hear thee.
Now may it please thee to vouchsafe his coming; He seeketh Liberty, which is so dear, As knoweth he who life for her refuses.
Thou know’st it; since, for her, to thee not bitter Was death in Utica, where thou didst leave The vesture, that will shine so, the great day.
By us the eternal edicts are not broken; Since this one lives, and Minos binds not me; But of that circle I, where are the chaste
Eyes of thy Marcia, who in looks still prays thee, O holy breast, to hold her as thine own; For her love, then, incline thyself to us.
Permit us through thy sevenfold realm to go; I will take back this grace from thee to her, If to be mentioned there below thou deignest.”
“Marcia so pleasing was unto mine eyes While I was on the other side,” then said he, “That every grace she wished of me I granted;
Now that she dwells beyond the evil river, She can no longer move me, by that law Which, when I issued forth from there, was made.
But if a Lady of Heaven do move and rule thee, As thou dost say, no flattery is needful; Let it suffice thee that for her thou ask me.
Go, then, and see thou gird this one about With a smooth rush, and that thou wash his face, So that thou cleanse away all stain therefrom,
For ’twere not fitting that the eye o’ercast By any mist should go before the first Angel, who is of those of Paradise.
This little island round about its base Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it, Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze;
No other plant that putteth forth the leaf, Or that doth indurate, can there have life, Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks.
Thereafter be not this way your return; The sun, which now is rising, will direct you To take the mount by easier ascent.”
Longfellow's translation of Dante's Purgatory opens with a shift in register: the poet's "little vessel" now sails "o'er better waters," leaving behind the "sea so cruel" of Hell. The mountain's terraces are not merely punitive but corrective, as seen in the slothful who run crying examples of haste—Mary to the mountain, Caesar to Spain. The text repeatedly pairs moral instruction with concrete, often historical, exemplars, a technique that grounds abstract vice in recognizable action.
Dreams and Disenchantment
Dante's dreams in Purgatory function as allegorical warnings. In Canto XIX, he dreams of a "stammering woman, / Squint in her eyes, and in her feet distorted, / With hands dissevered and of sallow hue." This grotesque figure transforms under his gaze into a seductive Siren who boasts of luring Ulysses. The dream is interrupted by a "Lady saintly and alert" who exposes the Siren's belly, releasing a stench that wakes Dante. The sequence enacts a pattern of deceptive allure followed by revelation—a structure that recurs throughout the cantica. Virgil's reproach, "At least thrice have I called thee," underscores the dream's function as a test of vigilance.
Historical Figures as Moral Mirrors
The penitents Dante meets are often named historical persons, their sins and virtues tied to specific deeds. The Abbot of San Zeno, for instance, laments that a corrupt successor—"his son, in his whole body sick, / And worse in mind"—will ruin the monastery. Such passages root moral failing in institutional corruption. Similarly, the slothful cry out examples of zeal: "Mary in haste unto the mountain ran, / And Caesar, that he might subdue Ilerda, / Thrust at Marseilles, and then ran into Spain." These references demand familiarity with biblical and classical history, a feature that rewards attentive reading.
The Mountain's Physical and Moral Topography
The structure of Purgatory is both physical and ethical. Each terrace corresponds to a capital sin, and the ascent requires confronting one's own failings. The slothful, for example, run ceaselessly, their motion a penance for their earthly sluggishness. Dante's own progress is marked by fatigue and reverie: "So I lapsed from one into another, / That in a reverie mine eyes I closed, / And meditation into dream transmuted." The mountain itself is a landscape of moral effort, where the body's struggle mirrors the soul's purification. Longfellow's translation preserves the rhythmic weight of Dante's terza rima, lending a measured gravity to the pilgrim's climb.
Readers approaching Longfellow's Purgatory will benefit from attending to the interplay of dream and waking, the historical specificity of the penitents, and the mountain's layered geography. The translation's formal diction rewards slow reading, and the marginal notes—though absent here—can illuminate Dante's references. Consider how each encounter advances the pilgrim's moral education, and note the recurring tension between human frailty and divine grace.
That rainy afternoon, Longfellow’s Dante kept me company on the sofa, the slow climb through pride and envy feeling less like poetry and more like weather. When I finally set it down, my hand drifted to a battered copy of A Book for Kids — Reading Notes on the shelf, and I remembered how lightness sometimes follows weight. No reason, just that. The rain kept falling.
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