Canto XXVI

became, but rise not to such height, The moment I heard name himself the father Of me and of my betters, who had ever Practised the sweet and gracious rhymes of love; And without speech and hearing thoughtfully For a long time I went, beholding him, Nor for the fire did I approach him nearer. When I was fed with looking, utterly Myself I offered ready for his service, With affirmation that compels belief. And he to me: “Thou leavest footprints such In me, from what I hear, and so distinct, Lethe cannot efface them, nor make dim. But if thy words just now the truth have sworn, Tell me what is the cause why thou displayest In word and look that dear thou holdest me?” And I to him: “Those dulcet lays of yours Which, long as shall endure our modern fashion, Shall make forever dear their very ink!” “O brother,” said he, “he whom I point out,” And here he pointed at a spirit in front, “Was of the mother tongue a better smith. Verses of love and proses of romance, He mastered all; and let the idiots talk, Who think the Lemosin surpasses him. To clamor more than truth they turn their faces, And in this way establish their opinion, Ere art or reason has by them been heard. Thus many ancients with Guittone did, From cry to cry still giving him applause, Until the truth has conquered with most persons. Now, if thou hast such ample privilege ’Tis granted thee to go unto the cloister Wherein is Christ the abbot of the college, To him repeat for me a Paternoster, So far as needful to us of this world, Where power of sinning is no longer ours.” Then, to give place perchance to one behind, Whom he had near, he vanished in the fire As fish in water going to the bottom. I moved a little tow’rds him pointed out, And said that to his name my own desire An honorable place was making ready. He of his own free will began to say: Tan m’ abellis vostre cortes deman, Que jeu nom’ puesc ni vueill a vos cobrire; Jeu sui Arnaut, que plor e vai chantan; Consiros vei la passada folor, E vei jauzen lo jorn qu’ esper denan. Ara vus prec per aquella valor, Que vus condus al som de la scalina, Sovenga vus a temprar ma dolor. Then hid him in the fire that purifies them.