CANTO XI. "OUR Father, thou who dwellest in the heavens, Not circumscribed, but from the greater love To render thanks to thy sweet effluence. Make sacrifice to thee, Hosanna singing, Withouten which in this rough wilderness Pardon in one another, pardon thou Benignly, and regard not our desert. 5 10 15 Our virtue, which is easily o'ercome, Put not to proof with the old Adversary, But thou from him who spurs it So, deliver. This last petition verily, dear Lord, Not for ourselves is made, who need it not, But for their sake who have remained behind us." Thus for themselves and us good furtherance Those shades imploring, went beneath a weight And weary all, upon that foremost cornice, If there good words are always said for us, What may not here be said and done for them, By those who have a good root to their will? Well may we help them wash away the marks That hence they carried, so that clean and light They may ascend unto the starry wheels! "Ah! so may pity and justice you disburden Soon, that ye may have power to move the wing, after your desire, That shall uplift you Show us on which hand tow'rd the stairs the way Is shortest, and if more than one the passes, 20 25 30 35 40 For he who cometh with me, through the burden Along the bank, and shall find a pass Possible for living person to ascend. And were I not impeded by the stone, Which this proud neck of mine doth subjugate, Him, who still lives and does not name himself, Would I regard, to see if I may know him you. Of my progenitors so arrogant made me All men I held in scorn to such extent I died therefor, as know the Sienese, 45 50 55 60 65 I am Omberto; and not to me alone Has pride done harm, but all my kith and kin Has with it dragged into adversity. And here must I this burden bear for it Till God be satisfied, since I did not Among the living, here among the dead." Listening I downward bent my countenance; 70 And one of them, not this one who was speaking, And looked at me, and knew me, and called out, Keeping his eyes laboriously fixed On me, who all bowed down was going with them. "O," asked I him, "art thou not Oderisi, Agobbio's honor, and honor of that art Which is in Paris called illuminating? "Brother," said he, "more laughing are the leaves Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese; All his the honor now, and mine in part. In sooth I had not been so courteous While I was living, for the great desire Of excellence, on which my heart was bent. And 76 80 85 90 O thou vain glory of the human powers, How little green upon thy summit lingers, Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry, So has one Guido from the other taken The glory of our tongue, and he perchance Is born, who from the nest shall chase them both. Naught is this mundane rumor but a breath Of wind, that comes now this way and now that, And changes name, because it changes side. What fame shalt thou have more, if old peel off From thee thy flesh, than if thou hadst been dead Before thou left the pappo and the dindi, Ere pass a thousand years? which is a shorter Space to the eterne, than twinkling of an eye Unto the circle that in heaven wheels slowest. With him, who takes so little of the road In front of me, all Tuscany resounded; 95 100 105 110 |