# Purgatory Canto 17

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

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> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Purgatory Canto 16  Next: Purgatory Canto 18  
> 
> Canto XVII
> 
> Argument
> 
>      The Poet issues from that thick vapour; and soon after his fancy
> represents to him in lively portraiture some noted examples of anger. This
> imagination is dissipated by the appearance of an angel, who marshals them
> onward to the fourth cornice, on which the sin of gloominess or indifference
> is purged; and here Virgil shows him that this vice proceeds from a defect of
> love, and that all love can be only of two sorts, either natural, or of the
> soul; of which sorts the former is always right, but the latter may err either
> in respect of object or of degree.
> 
> Call to remembrance, reader, if thou e'er
> Hast on an Alpine height been ta'en by cloud,
> Through which thou saw'st no better than the mole
> Doth through opacous membrane; then, whene'er
> The watery vapours dense began to melt
> Into thin air, how faintly the sun's sphere
> Seem'd wading through them: so thy nimble thought
> May image, how at first I rebeheld
> The sun, that bedward now his couch o'erhung.
> 
> Thus, with my leader's feet still equaling pace,
> From forth that could I came, when now expired
> 
> The parting beams from off the nether shores.
> 
> O quick and forgetive power! that sometimes dost
> So rob us of ourselves, we take no mark
> Though round about us thousand trumpets clang;
> What moves thee, if the senses stir not? Light
> Moves thee from Heaven, spontaneous, self - inform'd;
> Or, likelier, gliding down with swift illapse
> By will divine. Portray'd before me came
> The traces of her dire impiety,
> Whose form was changed into the bird, that most
> Delights itself in song:[1] and here my mind
> Was inwardly so wrapt, it gave no place
> To aught that ask'd admittance from without.
> Next shower'd into my fantasy a shape
> As of one crucified, whose visage spake
> Fell rancour, malice deep, wherein he died;
> And round him Ahasuerus the great king;
> Esther his bride; and Mordecai the just,
> Blameless in word and deed. As of itself
> That unsubstantial coinage of the brain
> Burst, like a bubble, when the water fails
> That fed it; in my vision straight uprose
> A damsel[2] weeping loud, and cried, "O queen!
> O mother! wherefore has intemperate ire
> Driven thee to loathe thy being? Not to lose
> Lavinia, desperate thou hast slain thyself.
> Now hast thou lost me. I am she, whose tears
> Mourn, ere I fall, a mother's timeless end."
> 
> [1: I cannot think, with Vellutello, that the swallow is here meant.
> Dante probably alludes to the story of Philomela, as it is found in Homer's
> "Odyssey," b. xix. 518. Philomela intended to slay the son of her husband's
> brother Amphion, incited to it by the envy of his wife, who had six children,
> while herself had only two, but through mistake slew her own son Itylus, and
> for her punishment was transformed by Jupiter into a nightingale.]
> 
> [2: Lavinia, mourning for her mother Amata, who, impelled by grief
> and indignation for the supposed death of Turnus, destroyed herself.]
> 
> E'en as a sleep breaks off, if suddenly
> New radiance strikes upon the closed lids,
> The broken slumber quivering ere it dies;
> Thus, from before me, sunk that imagery,
> Vanishing, soon as on my face there struck
> The light, outshining far our earthly beam.
> 
> As round I turn'd me to survey what place
> I had arrived at, "Here ye mount": exclaim'd
> A voice, that other purpose left me none
> Save will so eager to behold who spake,
> I could not chuse but gaze. As 'fore the sun,
> That weighs our vision down, and veils his form
> In light transcendent, thus my virtue fail'd
> Unequal. "This is Spirit from above,
> Who marshals us our upward way, unsought;
> And in his own light shrouds him. As a man
> Doth for himself, so now is done for us.
> For whoso waits imploring, yet sees need
> Of his prompt aidance, sets himself prepared
> For blunt denial, ere the suit be made.
> Refuse we not to lend a ready foot
> At such inviting: haste we to ascend,
> Before it darken: for we may not then,
> Till morn again return." So spake my guide;
> And to one ladder both address'd our steps;
> And the first stair approaching, I perceived
> Near me as't were the waving of a wing,
> That fann'd my face, and whisper'd: "Blessed they,
> The peace - makers: they know not evil wrath."
> 
> Now to such height above our heads were raised
> The last beams, follow'd close by hooded night,
> That many a star on all sides through the gloom
> Shone out. "Why partest from me, O my strength?"
> So with myself I communed; for I felt
> My o'ertoil'd sinews slacken. We had reach'd
> The summit, and were fix'd like to a bark
> Arrived at land. And waiting a short space,
> If aught should meet mine ear in that new round,
> Then to my guide I turn'd, and said: "Loved sire!
> Declare what guilt is on this circle purged.
> If our feet rest, no need thy speech should pause."
> 
> He thus to me: "The love of good, whate'er
> Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils.
> Here plies afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill.
> But that thou mayst yet clearlier understand,
> Give ear unto my words; and thou shalt cull
> Some fruit may please thee well, from this delay.
> 
> "Creator, nor created being, e'er,
> My son," he thus began, "was without love,
> Or natural, or the free spirit's growth,
> Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still
> Is without error: but the other swerves,
> If on ill object bent, or through excess
> Of vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks
> The primal blessings,[3] or with measure due
> The inferior,[4] no delight, that flows from it,
> Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil,
> Or with more ardour than behoves, or less,
> Pursue the good; the thing created then
> Works 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer
> That love is germin of each virtue in ye,
> And of each act no less, that merits pain.
> Now[5] since it may not be, but love intend
> The welfare mainly of the thing it loves,
> All from self - hatred are secure; and since
> No being can be thought to exist apart,
> And independent of the first, a bar
> Of equal force restrains from hating that.
> 
> [3: "The primal blessings." Spiritual good.]
> 
> [4: "The inferior." Temporal good.]
> 
> [5: "Now." "It is impossible for any being, either to hate itself, or
> to hate the First Cause of all, by which it exists. We can therefore rejoice
> only in the evil which befalls others."]
> 
> "Grant the distinction just; and it remains
> The evil must be another's, which is loved.
> Three ways such love is gender'd in your clay.
> There is[6] who hopes (his neighbour's worth deprest)
> Pre - eminence himself; and covets hence,
> For his own greatness, that another fall.
> There is[7] who so much fears the loss of power,
> Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount
> Above him), and so sickens at the thought,
> He loves their opposite: and there is he,[8]
> Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame,
> That he doth thirst for vengeance; and such needs
> Must dote on other's evil. Here beneath,
> 
> [6: "There is." The proud.]
> 
> [7: There is." The envious.]
> 
> [8: "There is he." The resentful.]
> 
> This threefold love is mourn'd. Of the other sort
> Be now instructed; that which follows good,
> But with disorder'd and irregular course.
> 
> "All indistinctly apprehend a bliss,
> On which the soul may rest; the hearts of all
> Yearn after it; and to that wished bourn
> All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold,
> Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax;
> This cornice, after just repenting, lays
> Its penal torment on ye. Other good
> There is, where man finds not his happiness:
> It is not true fruition; not that blest
> Essence, of every good the branch and root.
> The love too lavishly bestow'd on this,
> Along three circles over us, is mourn'd.
> Account of that division tripartite
> Expect not, fitter for thine own research."
>
> — *Purgatory Canto 17*