# Purgatory Canto 25

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

---

> Christianity Index  Divine Comedy Index  Previous: Purgatory Canto 24  Next: Purgatory Canto 26  
> 
> Canto XXV
> 
> Argument
> 
>      Virgil and Statius resolve some doubts that have arisen in the mind of
> Dante from what he had just seen. They all arrive on the seventh and last
> cornice, where the sin of incontinence is purged in fire; and the spirits of
> those suffering therein are heard to record illustrious instances of chastity.
> 
> It was an hour, when he who climbs, had need
> To walk uncrippled: for the sun[1] had now
> To Taurus the meridian circle left,
> And to the Scorpion left the night. As one,
> That makes no pause, but presses on his road,
> Whate'er betide him, if some urgent need
> Impel; so enter'd we upon our way,
> One before other; for, but singly, none
> That steep and narrow scale admits to climb.
> 
> [1: "The sun." The sun had passed the meridian two hours, and that
> meridian was now occupied by the constellation of Taurus, to which as the
> Scorpion is opposite, the latter constellation was co sequently at the
> meridian of night.]
> 
> E'en as the young stork lifteth up his wing
> Through wish to fly, yet ventures not to quit
> The nest, and drops it; so in me desire
> Of questioning my guide arose, and fell,
> Arriving even to the act that marks
> A man prepared for speech. Him all our haste
> Restrain'd not; but thus spake the sire beloved:
> "Fear not to speed the shaft, that on thy lip
> 
> Stands trembling for its flight." Encouraged thus,
> I straight began: "How there can leanness come,
> Where is no want of nourishment to feed?"
> 
> "If thou," he answer'd, hadst remember'd thee,
> How Meleager[2] with the wasting brand
> Wasted alike, by equal fires consumed;
> This would not trouble thee: and hadst thou thought,
> How in the mirror[3] your reflected form
> With mimic motion vibrates; what now seems
> Hard, had appear'd no harder than the pulp
> Of summer - fruit mature. But that thy will
> In certainty may find its full repose,
> Lo Statius here! on him I call, and pray
> That he would now be healer of thy wound."
> 
> [2: Virgil reminds Dante that, as Meleager was wasted away by the
> decree of the fates, and not through want of blood; so by the divine
> appointment, there may be leanness where there is no need of nourishment.]
> 
> [3: As the reflection of a form in a mirror is modified with the
> modification of the form itself; so the soul, separated from the earthly body,
> impresses the ghost of that body with its own affections.]
> 
> "If, in thy presence, I unfold to him
> The secrets of Heaven's vengeance, let me plead
> Thine own injunction to exculpate me."
> So Statius answer'd, and forthwith began:
> "Attend my words, O son, and in thy mind
> Receive them; so shall they be light to clear
> The doubt thou offer'st. Blood, concocted well,
> Which by the thirsty veins is ne'er imbibed,
> And rests as food superfluous, to be ta'en
> From the replenish'd table, in the heart
> Derives effectual virtue, that informs
> The several human limbs, as being that
> Which passes through the veins itself to make them.
> Yet more concocted it descends, where shame
> Forbids to mention: and from thence distils
> In natural vessel on another's blood.
> There each unite together; one disposed
> To endure, to act the other, through that power
> Derived from whence it came; and being met,
> It' gins to work, coagulating first;
> Then vivifies what its own substance made
> 
> Consist. With animation now indued,
> The active virtue (differing from a plant
> No further, than that this is on the way,
> And at its limit that) continues yet
> To operate, that now it moves, and feels,
> As sea - sponge clinging to the rock: and there
> Assumes the organic powers its seed convey'd.
> This is the moment, son! at which the virtue,
> That from the generating heart proceeds,
> Is pliant and expansive; for each limb
> Is in the heart by forgetful nature plann'd.
> How babe of animal becomes, remains
> For thy considering. At this point, more wise,
> Than thou, has err'd, making the soul disjoin'd
> From passive intellect, because he saw
> No organ for the latter's use assign'd.
> 
> "Open thy bosom to the truth that comes.
> Know, soon as in the embryo, to the brain
> Articulation is complete, then turns
> The primal Mover with a smile of joy
> On such great work of nature; and imbreathes
> New spirit replete with virtue, that what here
> Active it finds, to its own substance draws;
> And forms an individual soul, that lives,
> And feels, and bends reflective on itself.
> And that thou less may'st marvel at the word,
> Mark the sun's heat; how that to wine doth change,
> Mix'd with the moisture filter'd through the vine.
> 
> "When Lachesis hath spun the thread,[4] the soul
> Takes with her both the human and divine,
> Memory, intelligence, and will, in act
> Far keener than before; the other powers
> Inactive all and mute. No pause allow'd,
> In wondrous sort self - moving, to one strand
> Of those, where the departed roam, she falls:
> Here learns her destined path. Soon as the place
> Receives her, round the plastic virtue beams,
> Distinct as in the living limbs before:
> And as the air, when saturate with showers,
> 
> [4: "When Lachesis hath spun the thread." When a man's life on earth
> is at an end.]
> 
> The casual beam refracting, decks itself
> With many a hue; so here the ambient air
> Weareth that form, which influence of the soul
> Imprints on it: and like the flame, that where
> The fire moves, thither follows; so, henceforth,
> The new form on the spirit follows still:
> Hence hath it semblance, and is shadow call'd,
> With each sense, even to the sight, indued:
> Hence speech is ours, hence laughter, tears, and sighs,
> Which thou mayst oft have witness'd on the mount.
> The obedient shadow fails not to present
> Whatever varying passion moves within us.
> And this the cause of what thou marvel'st at."
> 
> Now the last flexure of our way we reach'd;
> And to the right hand turning, other care
> Awaits us. Here the rocky precipice
> Hurls forth redundant flames; and from the rim
> A blast up - blown, with forcible rebuff
> Driveth them back, sequester'd from its bound.
> 
> Behoved us, one by one, along the side,
> That border'd on the void, to pass; and I
> Fear'd on one hand the fire, on the other fear'd
> Headlong to fall: when thus the instructor warn'd:
> "Strict rein must in this place direct the eyes.
> A little swerving and the way is lost."
> 
> Then from the bosom of the burning mass,
> "O God of mercy!"[5] heard I sung, and felt
> No less desire to turn. And when I saw
> Spirits along the flame proceeding, I
> Between their footsteps and mine own was fain
> To share by turns my view. At the hymn's close
> They shouted loud, "I do not know a man;"[6]
> Then in low voice again took up the strain;
> Which once more ended, "To the wood," they cried,
> "Ran Dian, and drave forth Callisto stung
> With Cytherea's poison"; then return'd
> Unto their song; then many a pair extoll'd,
> 
> [5: "Summae Deus clementiae." The beginning of the hymn sung on the
> Sabbath at matins, as in the ancient breviaries; in the modern it is "summae
> parens clementiae."]
> 
> [6: Luke, i. 34.]
> 
> Who lived in virtue chastely and the bands
> Of wedded love. Nor from that task, I ween,
> Surcease they; whilesoe'er the scorching fire
> Enclasps them. Of such skill appliance needs,
> To medicine the wound that healeth last.
>
> — *Purgatory Canto 25*