Italian Poetry

Today we read Paolo e Francesca, by Dante Alighieri.

I can’t delay anymore: it’s time for some Dante, and in particular for some Comedy (the adjective divina, or “Divine,” is a later attribution).

This work is very different from anything I have presented so far: it is a long poem, divided in three books (Inferno, Purgatorio and Paradiso), each consisting of 33 canti (though Inferno has an additional canto as prologue, bringing the total to one hundred), written in a sequence of tercets linked by rhymes, so that the narrative flows in a uninterrupted formal continuum typical of the terza-rima.

It is the masterpiece of early Italian poetry, though it is probably more studied and admired than imitated, given the sheer range of its linguistic registers and themes, and its “cosmic” scope. Still, it shaped the medieval and modern imagination about the afterlife.

During his visit of hell, Dante discovers that it is organized in nine concentric rings, each dedicated to sinners marked by increasingly grave sins, each ring being narrower and deeper inside the Earth. At the bottom/center, Satan himself is bound.

In this extract from canto V, Dante is visiting the first area of hell proper, where the souls are marred by the least grievous sin, lust. These souls are punished according to the usual rule of contrappasso: just like, while alive, they were not able to control themselves and gave in to their carnal desires, now they are continuously buffeted along by a strong wind that never lets them rest.

Among these souls, Dante sees two that are together, and paion sì al vento esser leggieri (they seem light on the winds), decides to talk to them, calls them, and they approach not unlike doves.

Our long extract starts now. First one of the souls, Francesca, speaks, and in three lovely tercets, each starting with the word “love,” briefly summarizes their fate: they fell in love, and because of that they died, or rather were killed.

Dante is struck by this, and remains thoughtful for a while. It is easy to imagine him, a poet in the rich tradition of courtly love who then sang of love as a means to reach god, to have conflicting feelings for this couple whose only sin was to love.

So he asks them, how did you fall in love? Francesca then recounts how she and her beloved Paolo (who always remains silent and whose name is not given in the poem) were reading, together and unsuspecting, a book on the story of Lancelot and his love for Guinevere.

Often, while reading, they would look each other in the eye. But when they arrived at the part in which Lancelot finally kisses Guinevere, Paolo, trembling, kissed Francesca — and, she says, “that day we didn’t read anymore.”

Dante is so distressed by this story that he faints and falls down, “like a dead body falls.”

The original:

Amor, ch’al cor gentil ratto s’apprende,
prese costui de la bella persona
che mi fu tolta; e ’l modo ancor m’offende.

Amor, ch’a nullo amato amar perdona,
mi prese del costui piacer sì forte,
che, come vedi, ancor non m’abbandona.

Amor condusse noi ad una morte.
Caina attende chi a vita ci spense".
Queste parole da lor ci fuor porte.

Quand’io intesi quell’anime offense,
china’ il viso, e tanto il tenni basso,
fin che ’l poeta mi disse: “Che pense?”.

Quando rispuosi, cominciai: “Oh lasso,
quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio
menò costoro al doloroso passo!”.

Poi mi rivolsi a loro e parla’ io,
e cominciai: “Francesca, i tuoi martìri
a lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio.

Ma dimmi: al tempo d’i dolci sospiri,
a che e come concedette amore
che conosceste i dubbiosi disiri?”.

E quella a me: “Nessun maggior dolore
che ricordarsi del tempo felice
ne la miseria; e ciò sa ’l tuo dottore.

Ma s’a conoscer la prima radice
del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto,
dirò come colui che piange e dice.

Noi leggiavamo un giorno per diletto
di Lancialotto come amor lo strinse;
soli eravamo e sanza alcun sospetto.

Per più fïate li occhi ci sospinse
quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso;
ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse.

Quando leggemmo il disïato riso
esser basciato da cotanto amante,
questi, che mai da me non fia diviso,

la bocca mi basciò tutto tremante.
Galeotto fu ’l libro e chi lo scrisse:
quel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante”.

Mentre che l’uno spirto questo disse,
l’altro piangëa; sì che di pietade
io venni men così com’io morisse.

E caddi come corpo morto cade.\ The music in this episode is Lamento della Ninfa from Monteverdi’s Madrigali Guerrieri et Amorosi, sung by Daphne Ramakers (under creative commons).