PURGATORIO, Episode 218. The Darkening Poetry Around The Solitary Lady: PURGATORIO, Canto XXVIII, Lines 43 - 66

Our pilgrim, Dante, calls the solitary lady over to him. She can't cross the stream that divides them, but she can dance in place before coming closer to him.

All the while, the poet keeps darkening the poetry around her with threatening references in the pilgrim's mouth--that is, classical examples of profane love that end up in tragic circumstances.

And all this, despite our poet quoting repeatedly from his rival poet's poem.

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The segments for this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[01:30] My English translation of PURGATORIO, Canto XXVIII, lines 43 - 66. If you'd like to read along or drop a comment about this episode to continue the conversation, please scroll down this page.

[03:53] What if wandering is the start of some of the most significant journeys?

[08:22] My interpretive thesis: The solitary lady is the only fully fictional character in COMEDY.

[12:30] The poet Dante is cribbing a pastoral poem by his literary rival, Guido Cavalcanti.

[18:14] Two reasons Dante may have cribbed Cavalcanti's pastoral poem: 1) to assuage Dante's own guilt in Cavalcanti's death or 2) to show the limits of Cavalcanti's (and others') poetry.

[22:59] Two classical exemplars from Ovid--Proserpina and Venus--darken the passage considerably.

[27:48] Rereading the passage: PURGATORIO, Canto XXVIII, lines 43 - 66.

My English translation of PURGATORIO, Canto XXVIII, Lines 43 – 66:

“Hey, beautiful lady, who heats yourself

In the rays of love, if I’m to believe your facial expression

(Which usually provides the heart’s testimony),

“Please let it be your wish to step this way

Toward this stream,” I said to her,

“Close enough that I can understand your singing.

“You make me recall where and what

Proserpina was, in the time when her mother lost

Her—and she, the springtime.”

As a dancing lady turns about

With her feet firmly on the ground while set together,

Hardly moving one foot in front of the other,

So she turned toward me

On the crimson and on the yellow flowers. She was not unlike

A virgin who lowers her modest eyes.

With that, she brought my prayers to their contentment.

She got so close that her sweet sounds

Came to me with their full import.

As soon as she was at the spot where the grass

Is already bathed by the beautiful stream,

She gave me the gift of raising her eyes toward me.

I don’t believe so much light dazzled

Under Venus’s brow when she was run through

By her son, far from his usual custom.