Brunetto Latini
Now one of the stone margins bears us on.
Above, the river’s smoke throws up a shadow
Which screens the banks and water from the fire.
Just as the Flemings, between Wissant and Bruges,
5 In terror of the tide that surges toward them
Build dikes to make the flooding sea recede,
And as the Paduans, along the Brenta,
Before the heat wave comes to Chiarentana,
Build walls to defend their towns and castles,
10 In the same fashion were these banks constructed,
Except the builder, whoever he might be,
Had made them not so high and not so wide.
Already we were so far from the wood
That I could not have noticed where it was
15 Even had I turned round to look for it,
When we came across a troop of spirits
Walking along the bankside, and each one
Stared at us as men at dusk will study
Each other in the light of a new moon,
20 Knitting their eyebrows at us in a squint
Like an old tailor threading a needle’s eye.
Eyed in this manner by that brotherhood,
I there was recognized by one who grasped me
By the hem — and cried, "How wonderful!"
25 And I, when he stretched out his arm to me,
So fixed my eyes upon his burnt-out features
Even his crusted face did not prevent me
From apprehending him in my mind’s eye,
And bending down my face to be with his,
30 I asked him, "Ser Brunetto, are you here?"
And he: "My son, pray do not be displeased
If Brunetto Latini stays back a while
With you and lets that line trek on ahead."
And I: "With all my heart, I beg you to,
35 And should you want me to sit here with you,
I will, if he who goes with me permits it."
"My son," he said, "whoever of this flock
Stops for an instant must stay a hundred years,
Unable to brush off the burning flames.
40 "Go on then. I will walk here at your hem,
And later I will join my company
Who pass in sorrow for their endless woes."
I did not dare to step down from the path
To walk by him; instead I held my head
45 Bowed down like a man reverently walking.
He then began, "What chance or destiny
Brings you down here before your final day
And who is this one here who shows the way?"
"Up there above in the sun-brightened life,"
50 I answered him, "I lost myself in a valley
Before reaching the fullness of my years.
"Just yesterday morning I turned my back
On it: when I was lost, this one appeared
To lead me home once more along this road."
55 And he said to me, "Follow your own star
And you cannot miss your harbor of glory
If I judged you rightly in that lovely life.
"And if I had not died before the time,
60 Seeing how gracious heaven has been to you,
I should have warmly championed your work.
"But that unthankful, evil-minded people
Who long ago came down from Fiesole,
And still have the rock and mountain in them,
"For the good you do shall be your enemy,
65 And the reason is: among the bitter sorb trees
It is not right the sweet fig should bear fruit.
"The world’s word of old for them was ‘blind’:
A greedy, envious, and haughty stock,
Make sure you rid yourself of their bad ways.
70 "Your future holds out such honor to you
That one party and the other will hunger
For you — but grass does not grow near the goat!
"Let the beasts of Fiesole feed on
Each other, and let them not touch the plant —
75 Should any still be growing on their dungheap —
"A plant in which lives on the holy seed
Of the Romans who remained in Florence
When that nest of foul wickedness was built."
"If my appeal then had been fully granted,"
80 I responded to him, "you would not be
Still banished from the ranks of humankind.
"For in my memory is etched — it grieves me
Even now — the dear, kind, fatherly image
Of you, when in the world, hour by hour,
85 "You taught me how man makes himself immortal,
And I am so grateful that, while I live,
