# Purgatory Canto 11

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-20 — 1 clipping.*

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Purgatory Canto 10  Next: Purgatory Canto 12  
> 
> Canto XI
> 
> Argument
> 
>      After a prayer uttered by the spirits, who were spoken of in the last
> Canto, Virgil inquires the way upward, and is answered by one, who declares
> himself to have been Omberto, son of the Count of Santafiore. Next our Poet
> distinguishes Oderigi, the illuminator, who discourses on the vanity of
> worldly fame, and points out to him the soul of Provenzano Salvani.
> 
> O Thou Almighty Father! who dost make
> The heavens Thy dwelling, not in bounds confined,
> But that, with love intenser, there Thou view'st
> Thy primal effluence; hallow'd be thy name:
> Join, each created being, to extol
> 
> Thy might; for worthy humblest thanks and praise
> Is Thy blest Spirit. May Thy kingdom's peace
> Come unto us; for we, unless it come,
> With all our striving, thither tend in vain.
> As, of their will, the Angels unto Thee
> Tender meet sacrifice, circling Thy throne
> With loud hosannas; so of theirs be done
> By saintly men on earth. Grant us, this day,
> Our daily manna, without which he roams
> Through this rough desert retrograde, who most
> Toils to advance his steps. As we to each
> Pardon the evil done us, pardon Thou
> Benign, and of our merit take no count.
> 'Gainst the old adversary, prove Thou not
> Our virtue, easily subdued; but free
> From his incitements, and defeat his wiles.
> This last petition, dearest Lord! is made
> Not for ourselves; since that were needless now;
> But for their sakes who after us remain."
> 
> Thus for themselves and us good speed imploring,
> Those spirits went beneath a weight like that
> We sometimes feel in dreams; all, sore beset,
> But with unequal anguish; wearied all;
> Round the first circuit; purging as they go
> The world's gross darkness off. In our behoof
> If their vows still be offer'd, what can here
> For them be vow'd and done by such, whose wills
> Have root of goodness in them? Well beseems
> That we should help them wash away the stains
> They carried hence; that so, made pure and light,
> They may spring upward to the starry spheres.
> 
> "Ah! so may mercy - temper'd justice rid
> Your burdens speedily; that ye have power
> To stretch your wing, which e'en to your desire
> Shall lift you; as ye show us on which hand
> Toward the ladder leads the shortest way.
> And if there be more passages than one,
> Instruct us of that easiest to ascend:
> For this man, who comes with me, and bears yet
> The charge of fleshly raiment Adam left him,
> Despite his better will, but slowly mounts."
> From whom the answer came unto these words,
> Which my guide spake, appear'd not; but 'twas said:
> "Along the bank to rightward come with us;
> And ye shall find a pass that mocks not toil
> Of living man to climb: and were it not
> That I am hinder'd by the rock, wherewith
> This arrogant neck is tamed, whence needs I stoop
> My visage to the ground; him, who yet lives,
> Whose name thou speak'st not, him I fain would view;
> To mark if e'er I knew him, and to crave
> His pity for the fardel that I bear.
> I was of Latium;[1] of a Tuscan born,
> A mighty one: Aldobrandesco's name
> My sire's, I know not if ye e'er have heard.
> My old blood and forefathers' gallant deeds
> Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot
> The common mother; and to such excess
> Wax'd in my scorn of all men, that I fell,
> Fell therefore; by what fate, Siena's sons.
> Each child in Campagnatico, can tell.
> I am Omberto: not me, only, pride
> Hath injured, but my kindred all involved
> In mischief with her. Here my lot ordains
> Under this weight to groan, till I appease
> God's angry justice, since I did it not
> Amongst the living, here amongst the dead."
> 
> [1: "I was of Latium." Omberto, the son of Guglielmo Aldobrandesco,
> Count of Santafiore, in the territory of Siena. His arrogance provoked his
> countrymen to such a pitch of fury against him that he was murdered by them at
> Campagnatico.]
> 
> Listening I bent my visage down: and one
> (Not he who spake) twisted beneath the weight
> That urged him, saw me, knew me straight, and call'd;
> Holding his eyes with difficulty fix'd
> Intent upon me, stooping as I went
> Companion of their way. "O!" I exclaim'd,
> "Art thou not Oderigi?[2] art not thou
> Agobbio's glory, glory of that art
> Which they of Paris call the limner's skill?"
> 
> [2: The illuminator, or miniature painter, a friend of Giotto and
> Dante.]
> 
> "Brother!" said he, "with tints, that gayer smile,
> 
> Bolognian Franco's[3] pencil lines the leaves.
> His all the honour now; my light obscured.
> In truth, I had not been thus courteous to him
> The whilst I lived, through eagerness of zeal
> For that pre - eminence my heart was bent on.
> Here, of such pride, the forfeiture is paid.
> Nor were I even here, if, able still
> To sin, I had not turn'd me unto God.
> O powers of man! how vain your glory, nipt
> E'en in its height of verdure, if an age
> Less bright succeed not. Cimabue thought
> To lord it over painting's field; and now
> The cry is Giotto's,[4] and his name eclipsed.
> Thus hath one Guido from the other[5] snatch'd
> The letter'd prize: and he, perhaps, is born,
> Who shall drive either from their nest. The noise
> Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind,
> That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name,
> Shifting the point it blows from. Shalt thou more
> Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh
> Part shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst died
> Before the coral and the pap were left;
> Or e'er some thousand years have past? and that
> Is, to eternity compared, a space
> Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye
> To the heaven's slowest orb. He there, who treads
> So leisurely before me, far and wide
> Through Tuscany resounded once; and now
> Is in Siena scarce with whispers named:
> There was he sovereign, when destruction caught
> The maddening rage of Florence, in that day
> Proud as she now is loathsome. Your renown
> Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go;
> 
> [3: Franco of Bologna, who is said to have been a pupil of
> Oderigi's.]
> 
> [4: "The cry is Giotto's." In Giotto we have a proof at how early a
> period the fine arts were encouraged in Italy. His talents were discovered by
> Cimabue, while he was tending sheep for his father in the neighborhood of
> Florence, and he was afterward patronized by Pope Benedict XI and Robert, King
> of Naples; and enjoyed the society and friendship of Dante, whose likeness he
> has transmitted to posterity.]
> 
> [5: Guido Cavalcanti, the friend of our Poet, had eclipsed the
> literary fame of Guido Guinicelli. See also the twenty - sixth Canto.]
> 
> And his might withers it, by whom it sprang
> Crude from the lap of earth." I thus to him:
> "True are thy sayings: to my heart they breathe
> The kindly spirit of meekness, and allay
> What tumours rankle there. But who is he,
> Of whom thou spakest but now?" - "This," he replied,
> "I Provenzano. He is here, because
> He reach'd with grasp presumptuous, at the sway
> Of all Siena. Thus he still hath gone,
> Thus goeth never - resting, since he died.
> Such is the acquittance render'd back of him,
> Who, in the mortal life, too much hath dared."
> I then: "If soul, that to life's verge delays
> Repentance, linger in that lower space,
> Nor hither mount, (unless good prayers befriend),
> Or ever time, long as it lived, be past;
> How chanced admittance was vouchsafed to him?"
> 
> "When at his glory's topmost height," said he,
> "Respect of dignity all cast aside,
> Freely he fix'd him on Siena's plain,
> A suitor[6] to redeem his suffering friend,
> Who languish'd in the prison - house of Charles;
> Nor, for his sake, refused through every vein
> To tremble. More I will not say; and dark,
> I know, my words are; but thy neighbours soon
> Shall help thee to a comment on the text.
> This is the work, that from these limits freed him."
> 
> [6: Provenzano Salvani, for the sake of one of his friends who was
> detained in captivity by Charles I of Sicily, personally supplicated the
> people of Siena to contribute the ransom required by the King; and this act of
> self - abasement atoned for his general ambition. He fell at Vald' Elsa, where
> the Florentines discomfited the Sienese in June, 1269.]
>
> — *Purgatory Canto 11*

