# Purgatory Canto 12

*Exported from [Holy-Writings.com](https://www.holy-writings.com/) on 2026-06-19 — 1 clipping.*

---

> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Purgatory Canto 11  Next: Purgatory Canto 13  
> 
> Canto XII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Dante, being desired by Virgil to look down on the ground which they are
> treading, observes that it is wrought over with imagery exhibiting various
> instances of pride recorded in history and fable. They leave the first
> cornice, and are ushered to the next by an angel who points out the way.
> 
> With equal pace, as oxen in the yoke,
> I, with that laden spirit, journey'd on,
> Long as the mild instructor suffer'd me;
> But, when he bade me quit him, and proceed,
> (For "Here," said he, "behoves with sail and oars
> Each man, as best he may, push on his bark,")
> Upright, as one disposed for speed, I raised
> My body, still in thought submissive bow'd.
> 
> I now my leader's track not loth pursued;
> And each had shown how light we fared along,
> When thus he warned me: "Bend thine eyesight down,
> For thou, to ease the way, shalt find it good
> To ruminate the bed beneath thy feet."
> 
> As, in memorial of the buried, drawn
> Upon earth - level tombs, the sculptured form
> Of what was once, appears, (at sight whereof
> Tears often stream forth, by remembrance waked,
> Whose sacred stings the piteous often feel),
> So saw I there, but with more curious skill
> Of portraiture o'erwrought, whate'er of space
> From forth the mountain stretches. On one part
> Him I beheld, above all creatures erst
> Created noblest, lightening fall from Heaven:
> On the other side, with bolt celestial pierced,
> Briareus; cumbering earth he lay, through dint
> Of mortal ice - stroke. The Thymbraean god,[1]
> With Mars, I saw, and Pallas, round their sire,
> Arm'd still, and gazing on the giants' limbs
> Strewn o'er the ethereal field. Nimrod I saw:
> At foot of the stupendous work he stood,
> As if bewilder'd, looking on the crowd
> Leagued in his proud attempt on Sennaar's plain.
> 
> [1: "The Thymbraean god." Apollo.]
> 
> O Niobe! in what a trance of woe
> 
> Thee I beheld, upon that highway drawn,
> Seven sons on either side thee slain. O Saul!
> How ghastly didst thou look, on thine own sword
> Expiring, in Gilboa, from that hour
> Ne'er visited with rain from heaven, or dew.
> 
> O fond Arachne! thee I also saw,
> Half spider now, in anguish, crawling up
> The unfinish'd web thou weaved'st to thy bane.
> 
> O Rehoboam! here thy shape doth seem
> Louring no more defiance; but fear - smote,
> With none to chase him, in his chariot whirl'd.
> 
> Was shown beside upon the solid floor,
> How dear Alcmaeon forced his mother rate
> That ornament, in evil hour received:
> How, in the temple, on Sennacherib fell
> His sons, and how a corpse they left him there.
> Was shown the scath, and cruel mangling made
> By Tomyris on Cyrus, when she cried,
> "Blood thou didst thirst for: take thy fill of blood."
> Was shown how routed in the battle fled
> The Assyrians, Holofernes slain, and e'en
> The relics of the carnage. Troy I mark'd,
> In ashes and in caverns. Oh! how fallen,
> How abject, Ilion, was thy semblance there.
> 
> What master of the pencil or the style
> Had traced the shades and lines, that might have made
> The subtlest workman wonder? Dead, the dead;
> The living seem'd alive: with clearer view,
> His eye beheld not, who beheld the truth,
> Than mine what I did tread on, while I went
> Low bending. Now swell out, and with stiff necks
> Pass on, ye sons of Eve! vale not your looks,
> Lest they descry the evil of your path.
> 
> I noted not (so busied was my thought)
> How much we now had circled of the mount;
> And of his course yet more the sun had spent;
> When he, who with still wakeful caution went,
> Admonish'd: "Raise thou up thy head: for know
> Time is not now for slow suspense. Behold,
> That way, an Angel hasting toward us. Lo,
> When duly the sixth handmaid doth return
> From service on the day. Wear thou, in look
> And gesture, seemly grace of reverent awe;
> That gladly he may forward us aloft.
> Consider that this day ne'er dawns again."
> 
> Time's loss he had so often warn'd me 'gainst,
> I could not miss the scope at which he aim'd.
> 
> The goodly shape approach'd us, snowy white
> In vesture, and with visage casting streams
> Of tremulous lustre like the matin star.
> His arms he open'd, then his wings; and spake:
> "Onward! the steps, behold, are near; and now
> The ascent is without difficulty gain'd."
> 
> A scanty few are they, who, when they hear
> Such tidings, hasten. O, ye race of men!
> Though born to soar, why suffer ye a wind
> So slight to baffle ye? He led us on
> Where the rock parted; here, against my front,
> Did beat his wings; then promised I should fare
> In safety on my way. As to ascend
> That steep, upon whose brow the chapel stands,[2]
> (O'er Rubaconte, looking lordly down
> On the well - guided city[3]), up the right
> The impetuous rise is broken by the steps
> Carved in that old and simple age, when still
> The registry[4] and label rested safe;
> Thus is the acclivity relieved, which here,
> Precipitous, from the other circuit falls:
> But, on each hand, the tall cliff presses close.
> 
> [2: "The chapel stands." The church of San Miniato in Florence,
> situated on a height that overlooks the Arno, where it is crossed by the
> bridge Rubaconte, so called from Messer Rubaconte da Mandella, of Milan, chief
> magistrate of Florence, by whom the bridge was founded in 1237. [The bridge is
> now generally known as the Ponte alle Grazie. - Ed.]]
> 
> [3: "The well - guided city." This is said ironically of Florence.]
> 
> [4: "The registry." In allusion to certain instances of fraud
> committed in Dante's time with respect to the public accounts and measures.]
> 
> As, entering, there we turn'd, voices, in strain
> Ineffable, sang: "Blessed[5] are the poor
> In spirit." Ah! how far unlike to these
> 
> [5: "Blessed." "Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the
> kingdom of heaven." Matt. v. 3.]
> 
> The straits of Hell: here songs to usher us,
> There shrieks of woe. We climb the holy stairs:
> And lighter to myself by far I seem'd
> Than on the plain before; whence thus I spake:
> "Say, master, of what heavy thing have I
> Been lighten'd; that scarce aught the sense of toil
> Affects me journeying?" He in few replied:
> "When sin's broad characters,[6] that yet remain
> Upon thy temples, though well nigh effaced,
> Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out;
> Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will
> Be so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel
> No sense of labor, but delight much more
> Shall wait them, urged along their upward way."
> 
> [6: "Sin's broad characters." Of the seven P's, that denoted the same
> number of sins (Peccata) whereof he was to be cleansed (see Canto ix. 100),
> the first had now vanished in consequence of his having passed the place where
> the sin of pride, the chief of them, was expiated.]
> 
> Then like to one, upon whose head is placed
> Somewhat he deems not of, but from the becks
> Of others, as they pass him by; his hand
> Lends therefore help to assure him, searches, finds,
> And well performs such office as the eye
> Wants power to execute; so stretching forth
> The fingers of my right hand, did I find
> Six only of the letters, which his sword,
> Who bare the keys, had traced upon my brow.
> The leader, as he mark'd mine action, smiled.
>
> — *Purgatory Canto 12*