While thirsting for more words with that good Pope 1
I found his silence stronger than my will,
so had to leave before I’d drunk my fill.
Between the prostrate mourners and cliff base 4
a narrow space left something like a path.
I paced along this, close behind my guide,
appalled by lamentations on our right 7
from those who now felt greed’s iniquity.
To Hell, you wolf of Greed! Your poisoned fangs
have damned more souls than any other beasts! 10
Your gluttony enforces poverty.
You spread starvation by your wasteful feasts.
Having to place our footsteps carefully 13
we slowly moved along this narrow way,
then from in front we heard a clear voice cry,
“Sweet Mary!” Like a woman giving birth 16
in agony that yet suggested joy,
adding, “What could exceed the poverty
of labour pains within a trough of hay, 19
between the muzzles of an ox and ass?”
A pause, then the voice said, “Fabricius
22 chose virtue and poverty, not riches
by military conquest. So should we.”
Wanting to see the soul who said these things
25 I pressed ahead, hearing him talk about
Saint Nicholas, whose generosity
brought marriage to the poorest of young maids.
28 I said, “O soul in pain announcing good,
please tell me who you were. Your words will be
recorded down on Earth when I return.”
31 Said he, “I will reply, though not because
your good report will do the Earth much good.
You have a radiance that pleases me.
34 From me sprang up that monarchy of France
which overshadows Christendom and stops
much good fruit growing there. If Douai, Lille,
37 Ghent, Bruges had strength, they’d cast it off,
for which I pray to He who judges All.
In Paris Dad was butcher. I became
40 head of the royal household when the last
of Charlemagne’s great line, a monk, expired.
I had such wealth and friends that very soon
43 my son was wedded to the widowed queen.
From me, Hugh Capet, grew that lengthy line
of Philips, Louises, commanding France,
46 their bones entombed in consecrated earth.
As long as they inherited Provence,
they did no good and very little harm
but riches strengthened their rapacity. 49
To further it, by force and fraud they took
Ponthieu and Normandy and Gascony,
then went beyond, killing in Italy 52
Conradin, and better still, poisoning
Saint Thomas Aquinas. Soon you will see
another prince to bring my France more fame. 55
Using hypocrisy (that Judas lance)
he will burst in the guts of Florence,
gaining no land by it but gold and shame. 58
The less he thinks of this, the worse for him.
His brother sells his daughter to an old
and evil count, also for gold. O Greed, 61
what fouler misdeeds can you bring my race?
To make these crimes seem less, I can foresee
the fleur-de-lis flag enter Anagni, 64
see Christ’s appointed Vicar, captured, mocked,
fed with vinegar and slain between
two live thieves by a new Pontius Pilate 67
so unscrupulous, he goes on to loot
the treasury that good Knights Templar use,
escorting pilgrims to Jerusalem. 70
O Lord my God, when shall I gladly see
your vengeance smiting down these evil men?
You heard me calling on the Holy Ghost’s 73
one Virgin Bride. By day we think of Her
and others without greed; at night we brood
76 on those whose sin resembled ours, such as
Pygmalion, traitor, thief, parricide
through lust for gold; Midas, whose silly greed
79 made him ridiculous – a king with ass’s ears.
We think of foolish Achan stoned to death
for keeping gold Joshua meant for God;
82 Ananias and Saphira his wife,
stealing coin from the first Christian kirks,
and dropping dead, rebuked. We praise the kicks
85 the angel’s horse gave Heliodorus
when by force he tried to steal the treasure
from Jerusalem’s temple. We lastly
88 shout in chorus, “Crassus, how does gold taste?”
remembering Rome’s grasping millionaire
whose mouth and throat a Parthian monarch filled
91 with molten gold. Sometimes we yell aloud
or softly sing the stories that we share,
or ponder them. You heard me praising Mary.
94 Others were also thinking of her then.”
We parted from him, trying to walk fast,
but suddenly the whole great mountain shook
97 as if it fell. I felt a deathly chill.
Delos, floating island, quaked not more
when sunk and fixed by Jupiter, to be
100 a birthplace for the gods of sun and moon.
Mourners on every side shouted aloud.
My master drew me close, said, “Do not fear,
for I am guiding you.” Then I made out 103
from the folk nearest us the words they cried
were Gloria in Excelsis Deo.
Like shepherds who first heard this news proclaimed 106
we stood stock-still and stupefied until
they shut their mouths. The mountain ceased to shake.
Again we walked upon the narrow path 108
beside those spirits weeping as before.
Never did ignorance make me so keen
to understand, or so afraid to ask. 111