We come to the end of Canto I of PURGATORIO. Cato has disappeared. Virgil and Dante are wandering around lost (despite being told exactly what to do). And Dante the pilgrim is discovering that he can change in a world where everything else is permanent.

Join me, Mark Scarbrough, as we explore the final passage in the first canto of Dante's PURGATORIO, the second third of his masterwork, COMEDY. The poem has so many surprises that it's hard to keep track of them all.

Here are the segments for this episode of WALKING WITH DANTE:

[01:30] My English translation of the passage: PURGATORIO, Canto 1, Lines 112 - 136. If you'd like to read along, print it off, or drop a comment, please scroll down this page.

[03:37] Cato's appearance and disappearance is like Jesus's after the resurrection. And there may be other ways they're alike.

[06:19] "Follow my footsteps": a familiar emotional landscape.

[06:47] There are two important moments of descent in COMEDY: Inferno I and Purgatorio I.

[11:23] "The vibrations of the ocean": a call-out to AENEID, Book VII, lines 6 - 9, letting us know Virgil is still our touchstone.

[13:04] Dante's complex emotional landscape: lost in Purgatory, wandering around when you're in the redeemed part of the afterlife.

[15:05] What exactly is Virgil's "craft"? Following Cato's directions?

[17:27] Dante the pilgrim is returned to a human state, not a state of innocence.

[19:58] Ulysses appears in Purgatory!

[21:45] In Dante's afterlife, all is permanent, except the pilgrim Dante.

[24:13] Rereading the passage: PURGATORIO, Canto I, Lines 112 - 136.

And here’s my English translation of Purgatorio, Canto I, Lines 112 – 136

He [Virgil] began, “Son, follow my footsteps.

Let’s turn back now. As you can see, the little plain

Slopes down from here to its lowest point.”

 

True dawn was putting to rout the first morning light,

Which had already taken flight. In this way, I could just recognize,

Way in the distance, the vibrations of the ocean.

 

We went along the lonely escarpment

Like travelers who’ve lost their road

And wander around in vain until they can find it again.

 

When we got to the spot where the morning dew

Still duked it out with the sun and hadn’t yet evaporated—

That is, a spot cooled by a slight breeze—

 

My master spread out both his hands

And gently ran them through the soft grasses.

Then I understood his craft.

 

I offered my tear-stained cheeks to him.

He uncovered all the natural color in my face

That hell had so shrouded.

 

Now we went on to a place that was truly deserted.

No man has ever sailed to that spot

And then sailed back to where he’d come from.

 

So he [Virgil] indeed outfitted me, as it pleased another.

And oh, marvel of marvels! The humble rush

That he had selected grew back instantly

From the very place where he had pulled it up.