The conversation between Forese and Dante continues. We have not heard Virgil's voice since the fifteenth verse of the last canto. We will not hear it again until the next canto (XXV.17). This is his longest silence since he entered the poem in its first canto (see the note to Inf. XXX.37-41). He would seem to have been moved aside in response to Dante's interest in the encounter with Forese and concern with exploring the nature of his own most particular poetic practice, the subject at the core of this canto.

For the phrase 'things dead twice over' see the Epistle of Jude. The context is worth noting. Jude is declaiming against those who have infiltrated the ranks of the true believers, those 'ungodly men' (homines... impii – Jude 4) who are compared to, in succession, the unbelieving Israelites, the fallen angels, the sinners of Sodom and Gomorrah, as well as those great sinners Cain, Balaam (Numbers 22-25 and 31:16), and Korah (Numbers 16). The presence of these ungodly ones is then portrayed (Jude 12) as a blemish upon the feasts of Christians gathered in charity. Interlopers, they are described as 'feeding themselves without fear: clouds they are without water, carried about by the winds; trees whose fruit withers, without fruit, twice dead (bis mortuae), plucked out by the roots.' Several commentators refer to this passage, but only Poletto (comm. to vv. 4-6) does so with some attention to the context, also graciously giving credit to the commentary of Antonio Cesari (Bellezze della “Divina Commedia” [Verona: P. Libanti, 1824-26]) for the earliest citation. The contrapasso here is thus more related to gluttony than at first may seem apparent, calling attention to an arid feasting that has no regard for the condition of the soul. These penitents thus purge themselves as though in memory of Jude's gluttonous 'ungodly men.'

Once again (see the note to Purg. XXI.103-114) we see that Statius is portrayed as putting off his Christian zeal in order to give himself to affectionate admiration of Virgil.

Dante asks after Forese's sister, Piccarda, whom we shall meet as the first presence of Paradiso (see the note to Par. III.46-49). The Donati family, like others in the poem, is variously dispersed in the afterworld. Later in this canto (verse 84) we will hear of Forese's brother, Corso, who is destined for hell. In ante-purgatory we met a member of another similarly dispersed family, Buonconte da Montefeltro (Purg. V.88), son of the damned Guido (Inf. XXVII.67).

Forese's touching words of praise for his sister, already joyous in the presence of God in the Empyrean (the Christian version of Mt. Olympus, home of the gods in classical mythology) brought the following misogynist comment from Benvenuto (comm. to these verses): 'And that is great praise, for it is a rare thing to find in the same woman harmony between comely form and chaste behavior.'

Piccarda, who was dragged from her life as a nun into matrimony against her will, eventually puts us in mind of Pia de' Tolomei (Purg. V.133-136), who also was forced into a marriage she did not welcome. And both of them may send our thoughts back to Francesca da Rimini, similarly mistreated (Inf. V.100-107). The first three women present in each of the three cantiche have this experience in common. The damned Francesca insists on the impending damnation of her husband, Gianciotto (but see the note to Inf. V.107), while Forese, on the way to salvation, speaks glowingly of his already saved sister.

'Here' surely refers to this terrace (see the note to Purg. XXII.49-51). Since there is no prohibition of naming names on any other terrace, commentators worry about Forese's motive in speaking this way. Most currently agree that he is using exaggerated understatement (the trope litotes) to make his point: i.e., on this terrace one must use names to identify the penitents because they are unrecognizable (as was Forese to Dante at Purg. XXIII.43-48) as a result of their emaciation.

Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi da Lucca (1220?-1297?), notary and writer of lyric poems, composed mainly in imitation of the Provençal poets. He was involved in polemic against the poetry of Guido Guinizzelli and was attacked by Dante in his treatise on vernacular eloquence (Dve I.xiii.1) for writing in a dialectical rather than the lofty ('curial') vernacular. Some three dozen of his poems survive and a group of these have been re-edited and re-presented by Gianfranco Contini (editor, Poeti del Duecento, 2 vols. [Milan-Naples: Ricciardi, 1960], vol. I, pp. 257-82). See Claudio Giunta (La poesia italiana nell'età di Dante: la linea Bonagiunta-Guinizzelli [Bologna: Il Mulino, 1998]) and Carlo Paolazzi (La maniera mutata: Il “dolce stil novo” tra Scrittura e “Ars poetica” [Milan: Vita e Pensiero, Pubblicazioni dell'Università Cattolica, 1998]) for the poetic relationship between Bonagiunta and Guinizzelli and its significance for Dante.

Simon de Brie, who 'married' Holy Church as Pope Martin IV (1281-85), was French. He was not born in Tours, but had served as treasurer of the cathedral of St. Martin in Tours. He briefly served as chancellor of France before becoming a cardinal in 1261. And his French connection was further apparent when Charles of Anjou was instrumental in securing the papacy for him. His gluttonous affection for eels from Lake Bolsena caused him, according to Jacopo della Lana (comm. to vv. 19-24), to have them, still alive, drowned in white wine from Liguria (the town of Vernazza) and then roasted. The commentator also reports that, as pope, coming from meetings dealing with Church business he would cry out, 'O Lord God, how many ills must we bear for Your holy Church! Let us have a drink!' and head for table to console himself.

Not only did this gluttonous pope support French political designs in Italy, he was the man who promoted Benedetto Caetani to the rank of cardinal, thus greatly facilitating his eventual elevation as Pope Boniface VIII (a promotion that Dante could not have regarded with equanimity, given his personal sufferings at the hands of this pope [see the note to Inf. XIX.52-53]). In the light of such things, why did Dante decide that Martin was among the saved? Trucchi (comm. to vv. 19-24) suggests that, as the successor to the nepotistic and venal Nicholas III (see Inf. XIX.69-72), Martin put an end, for a time, to the practice of simony in the papacy. It is for that reason, in his opinion, that Dante overlooked his other flagrant sins to save him.

The act of naming being particularly necessary on this terrace (see the note to vv. 16-18), it brings pleasure (Dante again employs litotes: it does not cause scowls) to those who are named and thus may hope for relieving prayer from the world, once Dante returns to it. It hardly needs to be pointed out that many of the sinners in hell were less pleased at being recognized.

'Ubaldino degli Ubaldini of La Pila (castle in the Mugello, or upper valley of the Sieve, tributary of the Arno, north of Florence), member of the powerful Ghibelline family of that name. Ubaldino, who was one of those who voted for the destruction of Florence (Inf. X.92), and was a member of the Consiglio Generale, after the battle of Montaperti (Sept. 4, 1260), was brother of the famous Cardinal Ottaviano degli Ubaldini (Inf. X.120), uncle of Ugolino d'Azzo (Purg. XIV.105), and father of the Archbishop Ruggieri of Pisa (Inf. XXXIII.14); he died in 1291' (Toynbee, “Pila, Ubaldin dalla” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

Bonifazio has been 'identified by modern commentators with Bonifazio dei Fieschi of Genoa, Archbishop of Ravenna, 1274-1295.... The ancient pastoral staff of the Archbishops of Ravenna, which is still preserved, bears at the top an ornament shaped like a chess “rook” [rather than the conventional curved crosier], hence the term rocco used by Dante. Bonifazio... is known to have been immensely wealthy, but there is no record of his having been addicted to gluttony' (Toynbee, “Bonifazio[2]” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

While some debate whether or not the reference to the archbishop's pastoral care is meant to be taken ironically, it seems difficult, in light of the descriptions of the other penitent gluttons, to take it any other way. The flock he is envisioned as leading would seem to be less the faithful of Ravenna than his guests to dinner.

'Marchese (or Marchesino) degli Orgogliosi of Forlì... was Podestà of Faenza in 1296' (Toynbee, “Marchese[4]” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). Embellishing an incident he probably first heard from his teacher, Benvenuto da Imola, John of Serravalle (comm. to these verses) recounts it this way: 'One day [Marchese] asked of his servant, “What do the people say of me? What is my reputation among them?” And the servant answered, “O my lord, they say that you are noble and wise,” etc. And so he spoke again to his servant, saying, “Now tell me the truth, what do they really say?” In reply the servant said, “Since you wish it, I will tell you the truth; people say you are a great drinker of wine.” At which [Marchese] responded, “These people speak truthfully; but they really ought to add that I am always thirsty – and that is a fact, for I thirst continually.”' Bonagiunta was also a lover of the grape, according to Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 34-39), who characterised him as 'a deft contriver of rhymes and a ready imbiber of wines.'

Dante's attention was drawn to Bonagiunta da Lucca because, he says, Bonagiunta seemed to know him. We may reflect that Dante the poet's interest in Bonagiunta centered in his desire to stage, clued by the utterance of this lesser poet, his own ars poetica, as we shall shortly understand. Including Dante, the interaction among those speaking or being noticed in this canto involves two poets, two religious figures, and two politicians. And then there are the two classical poets who are not even mentioned once in this very 'modern' canto (it is notable that Pope Martin, dead only fifteen years, is the senior ghost among the five gluttons is this group).

For Dante's use of the verb mormorare (murmur), see the note to Purgatorio X.100-102. This passage has long been problematic. Does Bonagiunta refer to his fellow Lucchesi in an unfavorable way, calling them gentucca or gentuccia (a deprecating way of referring to his people, or gente)? Or is he mentioning a kindly woman of that name who will be welcoming to Dante when, in his exile, he will come to Lucca? In this case he would be referring to the femmina referred to in vv. 43-45. Beginning with Francesco da Buti (comm. to vv. 28-39), who states that Gentucca was the name of a woman from Rossimpelo, most commentators believe that the reference is to someone who was benevolent to Dante in Lucca during a stay there. We have, however, no confirming evidence for this sojourn in Lucca (see Michele Messina, “Lucca” [ED.1971.3]), which, if it took place, probably did so in 1308-9, and certainly no hard facts establishing her identity. Nonetheless, this remains the best hypothesis. Still others have attempted to make a case for Gentucca as a woman with whom Dante had some sort of sexual liaison, an interpretation that seems venturesome at best. On the entire question see Giorgio Varanini, “Gentucca” (ED.1971.3). For more recent consideration of the question, see Cono Mangieri (“Gentucca dantesca e dintorni,” Italian Quarterly 125-126 [1995], pp. 5-25), arguing, in a bold hypothesis, that Gentucca was an illegitimate daughter of the poet.

Dante encourages Bonagiunta, for whom speech is made difficult by the pain he feels in his mouth, the orifice by which he offended in gluttony, to speak more plainly.

If this woman is, as some contemporary students of the question suggest, Gentucca di Ciucchino Morla, she was the wife of Buonaccorso Fondora. In that case she wore the black wimple, worn by wives, not the white, reserved for widows. Nino Visconti's widow, Giovanna, according to him, made the mistake of remarrying badly, putting off the white wimple (Purg. VIII.74). However, we cannot be sure whether Bonagiunta is referring to an as yet unmarried woman, or to a married one whose husband, soon to die, is still alive. In any case, this woman will make Lucca seem pleasant to Dante, no matter how others may blame it (as Dante himself had done in Inf. XXI.40-42).

Having recognized Dante earlier (vv. 35-36), Bonagiunta now presses him about the nature of his poetry. Is he the poet who drew forth from within himself the new poems that began with the canzone 'Ladies that have intelligence of love'? This is the first long poem of the three that help to give structure to the Vita nuova, announcing the beginning of its second stage, in which Dante chooses to give over the style of 'complaint,' borrowed from Cavalcanti, in order to turn to the style of praise, with its debt to Guinizzelli. Dante composed this poem around 1289. From this remark, we learn at least one important thing. Whatever the determining features of Dante's new poetry, it was different – at least according to him, using Bonagiunta as his mouthpiece – from all poetry written before it, including Dante's own. This precision evades many who discuss the problem, who continue to allow poems by Dante and other poets written before Donne ch'avete to share its status. It seems clear that Dante's absolute and precise purpose is to rewrite the history of Italian lyric, including that of his own poems, so that it fits his current program.

There is perhaps no more debated tercet in this poem than this one, and perhaps none that has more far-reaching implications for our general understanding of Dante's stance as a poet. Does he refer to Amore as the god of Love? or as the name of the true God in His Third Person, the Holy Spirit? Dantists are deeply (and fiercely) divided by this issue. The bibliography of work devoted to it is immense. Readers with Italian will want to refer to three papers that were composed for the Third International Dante Seminar (Florence, 2000) by members of the panel concerning the currently vexed question of Dante's attitude toward Cavalcanti and its relationship to his view of his own poetic as this is given voice here (see three contributions to the volume Dante: da Firenze all'aldilà. Atti del terzo Seminario dantesco internazionale, ed. Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]: Roberto Antonelli, “Cavalcanti e Dante: al di qua del Paradiso,” pp. 289-302; Robert Durling, “'Mio figlio ov'è?' [Inferno X, 60],” pp. 303-29; and Lino Leonardi, “Cavalcanti, Dante e il nuovo stile,” pp. 331-54). For the views of this writer, which are at some variance especially from those of the first and third of these, see Hollander (“Dante and Cino da Pistoia,” Dante Studies 110 [1992], pp. 201-31, and “Dante's 'dolce stil novo' and the Comedy,” in Dante: mito e poesia. Atti del secondo Seminario dantesco internazionale, ed. M. Picone and T. Crivelli [Florence: Cesati, 1999], pp. 263-81). In the most recent of these two studies, the case is made for our understanding that Dante indeed presents himself as writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, a view that causes understandable distress, but which is fundamental, in one line of thought, to a better comprehension of his purposes. Similar views are to be found in Selene Sarteschi (“Purgatorio XXIV 49-53: Dante e il 'Dolce stil novo'. Verifica di una continuità ideologica,” in her Per la “Commedia” e non per essa soltanto [Rome: Bulzoni, 2002 (1995)]), pp. 97-137. For a curious blending of (1) an old and (2) a new view, see Carlo Paolazzi (La maniera mutata: Il “dolce stil novo” tra Scrittura e “Ars poetica” [Milan: Vita e Pensiero, Pubblicazioni dell'Università Cattolica, 1998]), who attempts (1) to resuscitate an actual 'school' of stilnovisti, including the major figures Guinizzelli, Cavalcanti, Dante, and Cino da Pistoia, all of whom are related, according to Paolazzi, by (2) significant borrowings from concepts found in Horace's Ars poetica and from the language of Scripture. A major impediment to accepting such a view is the fact that Dante's text explicitly and without possible exception (unless one were to argue that Bonagiunta simply does not know whereof he speaks – a difficult position to support) says that the dolce stil novo began with 'Donne ch'avete,' ca. 1289, thus omitting at least Guinizzelli from 'membership.' In addition, Dante's treatment of Cavalcanti in the Comedy makes any such evaluation more than merely dubious, as Danilo Bonanno agrees (La perdita e il ritorno. Presenze cavalcantiane nell'ultimo Dante [Pisa: Edizioni ETS, 1999]), pp. 50-52. On the other hand, that Dante and Cino were, according to Dante, fellow 'stilnovisti' seems more than likely. For an attempt to make the school even more inclusive than a surely questionable Romantic view had done, see Gorni (“Paralipomeni a Lippo,” Studi di filologia italiana 47 [1989]), pp. 27-29; in a similar inclusive vein see Pasquini (Dante e le figure del vero: La fabbrica della “Commedia” [Milan: Bruno Mondadori, 2001]), pp. 33-36. The cause of much of the problem as it is misconstrued by Dante's critics is that they try to establish what really happened in the history of Italian poetry, while Dante himself puts forward only what he decided had really happened.

Bonagiunta's response may be paraphrased as follows: 'Now I understand the nature of the knot that held back the Notary [Giacomo da Lentini], Guittone [d'Arezzo], and me from the sweet new style that at this very moment I am hearing! Now I clearly understand how your pens [plural] followed strictly after the words of the “dictator,” something that ours did not; and in that lies the entire difference between your [Dante's] “new style” and ours.' He falls silent, as though, it seems, satisfied with his utterance.

What exactly does Dante mean by the phrase 'sweet new style'? This is surely one of the key questions presented in the poem, and not one of the easiest. Further, who else wrote in that 'style'? And what is the significance of the fact that Bonagiunta says that he hears it now (in listening to Dante here in purgatory? in current Tuscan poems composed on earth? [but how would he hear these?])? What follows is a series of hypotheses that sketch out this writer's views of the major aspects of a difficult question.

(1) The passage, probably written ca. 1311-12, marks the first time that the beguiling phrase 'dolce stil novo' had ever been used in the vernacular that we call 'Italian.' That it was meant to refer to or to identify an actual 'school' of poets that existed before the date of its inscription in Dante's text may not be assumed (see Emilio Bigi [“Genesi di un concetto storiografico: 'dolce stil novo,'” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 132 (1955), pp. 333-71] and Guido Favati [Inchiesta sul Dolce Stil Nuovo (Florence: Le Monnier,1975)], although it frequently is.

(2) On the other hand, the author's (or Bonagiunta's) plural 'vostre' should be seen as including not only himself, but also Cino da Pistoia (the one fellow poet who Dante believed had understood the theological significance of his Beatrice), if perhaps no one else (see Hollander [“Dante and Cino da Pistoia,” Dante Studies 110 (1992), pp. 201-31] and Furio Brugnolo [“Cino (e Onesto) dentro e fuori la Commedia,” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo (Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993), pp. 369-86]). For reasons to believe that Cino himself, as evidenced in his poem of tribute, 'Su per la costa,' written after Dante's death, believed that Dante's plurality of penne included him, see Luciano Rossi (“Il nodo di Bonagiunta e le penne degli stilnovisti: ancora sul XXIV del Purgatorio,” in Fictio poetica: Studi italiani e ispanici in onore di Georges Güntert, ed. Katherina Maier-Troxler and Costantino Maeder [Florence: Cesati, 1998]), pp. 49-50.

(3) The significance of the poetic stance struck in the phrase should be understood in theological terms. Dante is not presenting himself as a usual love poet, but as one who serves as God's scribe in recording the result of God's love for him through the agency of Beatrice. Benvenuto, so insensitive (and even hostile) to Dante's claims for a theological basis for his writing, has a wonderfully angry gloss to vv. 52-54: 'inspires me': you should not understand: with the love of divine grace, as certain people falsely interpret (italics added), but indeed with lascivious love.' It is interesting that Benvenuto feels he must oppose those who are reading the poem theologically in his own day. We do not have any record of such an understanding of these lines; it is heartening to know that it existed. John of Serravalle (comm. to verse 58) follows his master in thinking Amor here is but the 'god' presiding over the world's oldest indoor sport. Dante and others had previously written in a 'sweet' style; but only he, now, in his Comedy, writes in this 'sweet new style' that creates a theologized poetry that is like almost no one else's (see Mazzotta [Dante, Poet of the Desert (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979)], pp. 197-210; Zygmunt Baranski [“Canto VIII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone (Florence: Cesati, 2001)]), pp. 392-94.

(4) The word 'style' here has a broader connotation than it usually does in discourse about poetry, indicating not only a way of writing, but a subject for writing, as was apparent when his new style of praise in Vita nuova was presented as requiring new 'matter' (see Hollander, “Dante's 'dolce stil novo' and the Comedy,” in Dante: mito e poesia. Atti del secondo Seminario dantesco internazionale, ed. M. Picone and T. Crivelli [Florence: Cesati, 1999], pp. 271-72; Aversano [“Sulla poetica dantesca nel canto XXIV del Purgatorio,” L'Alighieri 16 (2000)], p. 131: the poem is 'sweet artistically because it is new poetically.') The 'new style' not only sounds different, it is different (but see the differing view of Lino Leonardi [“Cavalcanti, Dante e il nuovo stile,” in Dante: da Firenze all'aldilà. Atti del terzo Seminario dantesco internazionale, ed. Michelangelo Picone (Florence: Cesati, 2001)]), p. 334. The very phrasing of the element that sets, in Bonagiunta's understanding (vv. 58-59), this 'style' apart from all others – copying out exactly what was spoken by the 'dictator' – points not at all to style, but rather to content.

(5) We should probably also understand that the phrase 'dolce stil novo' refers to some of Dante's earlier poetry (only the canzone 'Donne ch'avete intelletto d'amore' for certain), some of Cino's poems (at least and perhaps only the canzone upon the death of Beatrice, 'Avegna ched el m'aggia più per tempo'), and to Dante's Comedy, thus presenting the author's claims for a theological grounding of his poem's inspiration as being joined to certain of his earlier poems that he felt either had, or could be construed as having, the same character. This is the crux of a continuing disagreement with those who argue that the Comedy is a poem that goes beyond the stil novo (e.g., Pertile [“Dante's Comedy: Beyond the Stilnovo,” Lectura Dantis (virginiana) 13 (1993), pp. 47-77] or Malato [Dante (Rome: Salerno, 1999)], pp. 105-22), rather than being a continuation of it. While privileging a theological reading (if not firmly), Warren Ginsberg (Dante's Aesthetics of Being [Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1999)]), p. 88, like Pertile, is of the opinion that the Comedy's style 'is a new style, which differs from the stil novo.' In short, while Dante and others (Guido Cavalcanti perhaps the most capable among them) had previously written in a 'sweet' style, Dante alone developed, on the model of Guinizzelli's lyrics, poems of praise of a theologized lady, Beatrice (see the note to Purgatorio XXIV.112). For discussion of a specifically Christian reformulation of traditional images of the god of Love in the fourth stanza of the poem that Dante authorizes us to think of as the first poem of the 'sweet new style,' see Vincent Moleta (“'Voi le vedete Amor pinto nel viso' [V.N., XIX, 12]: The Roots of Dante's Metaphor,” Dante Studies 110 [1992], pp. 57-75). For a review of the entire question of Dante's relations with Guido and of the debate over their nature, see Enrico Fenzi (La canzone d'amore di Guido Cavalcanti e i suoi antichi commenti [Genoa: il Melangolo, 1999], pp. 9-70). See also Enrico Malato (Dante e Guido Cavalcanti: il dissidio per la “Vita nuova” e il «disdegno» di Guido [Rome: Salerno, 1997]); Emilio Pasquini (Dante e le figure del vero: La fabbrica della “Commedia” [Milan: Bruno Mondadori, 2001], pp. 48-68); Giuliano Tanturli (“Guido Cavalcanti contro Dante,” in Le tradizioni del testo: Studi di letteratura italiana offerti a Domenico De Robertis, ed. F. Gavazzeni and G. Gorni [Milan: Ricciardi, 1993], pp. 3-13); Nicolò Pasero (“Dante in Cavalcanti: ancora sui rapporti tra Vita nova e Donna me prega,” Medioevo romanzo 22 [1998], pp. 388-414); and Selene Sarteschi, “Donna me prega-Vita Nuova: La direzione di una polemica,” Rassegna europea di letteratura italiana 15 [2000], pp. 9-35).

In a single line Bonagiunta crosses off the list of illustrious precursors two of the great poetic figures that preceded Dante, Giacomo da Lentini (died ca. 1250) and Guittone d'Arezzo (ca. 1230-94). Giacomo was the first major Italian practitioner of lyric, and is looked upon as the inventor of the sonnet and as the founder of the so-called Sicilian School, the first group of writers of lyric in Italian, taking their models from the writers of lyric in Provençal. Dante is later still harder on Guittone (see Purg. XXVI.124-126 and note), who, as Dante came to poetry in the 1280s, was perhaps the pre-eminent Tuscan poet.

Letterio Cassata (“Un'ipotesi per Pg 24, 61-62,” Critica del testo 4 [2001]), p. 307, paraphrases these lines as follows: 'e chi vuole accingersi a procedere più in là non è più in grado di vedere il divario dall'uno all'altro stile' (and he who would prepare himself to go more deeply into the matter is no longer in a position to distinguish the difference between the one style and the other). It is a difficult text to be sure of.

The two similes, piled one upon the other, return to a technique not observed in some time: a comparison based on an antique source coupled with a completely 'vernacular' and 'ordinary' one. See Inferno XXIV.1-15, where ancient and contemporary elements are combined in a single simile, and Inferno XXVI.25-39, where local Tuscan agriculture and Elijah's ascent to heaven are the contrasting elements in two neighboring similes.

The first of this pair derives, fairly obviously to today's reader, instructed by the notes in the text, from Lucan (Phars. V.711-716), a description of cranes fleeing winter's cold to winter on the Nile. Nonetheless, for all the certainty in recent commentators that this is a reminiscence of Lucan, it was only with Torraca (comm. to vv. 73-75) that it seems first to have been observed. Lucan's passage is revisited even more plainly at Paradiso XVIII.73-78.

Forese's remark is perhaps the high point in the fraternal affection found in purgatory, as he looks forward to Dante's death as the necessary precondition for their next meeting in the afterlife.

Notable is Dante's calm assurance that he will be saved. This may seem prideful, but is rather the natural result, or so he would have us believe, of his having been chosen for such an experience of the afterworld. God, he would ask us to imagine, would not have selected as His scribe one destined to die in sin.

Porena (comm. to vv. 79-81) suggests that the world-weary tone of the protagonist reflects less the Dante of the year 1300, at the peak of his political success, than the exiled poet of ca. 1310 (the date that Bosco/Reggio [comm. to vv. 77-78] suggest for the composition of this part of the poem).

Corso Donati, brother of Forese, was, in Dante's eyes, the Black Guelph who bore 'the greatest blame' for Florence's problems (and for his own) because of his alliance with Pope Boniface VIII, the 'beast' who will drag him to hell – as Dante will see before much time passes. In fact, through the magic of post-event prophecy (Corso was killed on 6 October 1308), Forese is able to promise the protagonist this happy vengeance.

Corso had supervised the murderous taking of the city by the Black Guelphs after Charles of Valois had led his French troops into Florence in November 1301. In a political reversal that is not totally unlike Dante's own, he was condemned to death by the priors for trying to take power into his own hands in a supposed arrangement involving the Tuscan Ghibelline leader Uguccione della Faggiuola, to whose daughter he was married.

While the 'beast' in Forese's account is clearly metaphorical, Corso apparently did die while trying to escape, either in a fall from his horse or by being lanced by one of his captors once he had fallen – or even as he was hanging from a stirrup, dragged along the ground.

The military simile fits the tone of the death scene of Corso that has just been narrated by his brother. Here, by way of returning to the rigors of his penance, Forese is allowed to assume the role of the cavalryman who goes out to make the first contact of battle. Virgil and Statius, described by a word perhaps never seen before in Italian, 'marshals,' are left behind, but are calmly directing the battle, as it were. As for Dante, that retired cavalryman (see the note to Inf. XXI.95), it is not clear what role he plays, but he is a subordinate to these two marshals, those great poets who led other humans into knowledge and virtue through their works.

Forese has moved quickly along the terrace, far ahead of Dante, Virgil, and Statius. The protagonist's eyes remain fixed on Forese's departing form, as his thoughts remain fixed on his riddling prophesy (vv. 82-87).

Moving along the terrace with his eyes fixed on Forese, Dante does not at first see the tree that his own movement forward has brought him to. The second tree of this terrace has caused less puzzlement than the first one (Purg. XXII.131-135); the succeeding verses (116-117) answer most questions that one might have (see the note to vv. 115-117): this tree is an offshoot of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Adolfo Jenni (“Il Canto XXIII del Purgatorio,” in Nuove letture dantesche, vol. V [Florence: Le Monnier, 1972)]), pp. 12-13, argues that the sight of the water from above causing the leaves to shine makes the penitent gluttons even hungrier. As was the case with the first tree, this one is also apparently watered from above (see Purg. XXII.137-138).

This simile possibly reflects a passage from Convivio (Conv. IV.xii.16) in which Dante speaks of the natural love of human souls for God, their maker, which is easily drawn off course: 'Thus we see little children setting their desire first of all on an apple, and then, growing older, desiring to possess a little bird, and then still later desiring to possess fine clothes, then a horse, and then a woman, and then modest wealth, then greater riches, and then still more' (tr. Lansing). The central elements of this image (a man catching the hungry attention of a child by holding up an apple) are deployed again in Purgatorio XXVII.45.

The penitents (as will be the poets) are urged to turn aside, apparently by the same voice from within the tree that will warn off the poets (and since the names of exemplary figures are recited by this voice, we probably correctly assume it speaks to all, triggered by its sense that someone is approaching, that is, not only in response to these special visitors). They are 'enlightened' (in the sense that their first opinion, that the fruit of this tree is desirable, is changed) when they realize that this tree is a branch from that beneath which humankind first fell into sin, and thus willingly move away.

Once again an unseen and unidentified divinely authorized voice speaks from within the foliage of a tree (see Purg. XXII.140-154). This is an offshoot of the tree of which Eve (and then Adam, who had also been warned not to [see the note to Purg. XXII.140-141]) ate the fruit. Benvenuto's gloss (to vv. 115-120) is admirable: this act of 'gluttony' is seen as the first sin, even though Adam himself will later (Par. XXVI.115-117) be clear that its cause was not really appetite for food but the desire to trespass for its own sake (as St. Augustine understood in his later redoing of the scene in his recounting of his youthful escapade involving the theft of a farmer's pears [Confessions II.iv: 'our real pleasure was in doing something forbidden' – tr. Pine-Coffin]): the first disobedience is thus the very desire to disobey (see Par. XXIX.55-57 for Satan's pride as the primal sin). Benvenuto is more alert to Dante's strategy here than many a more recent commentator, understanding that the image of eating is germane to Dante's description of Gluttony, despite the larger theological meaning of the primal act of sin.

Porena (comm. to vv. 116-117) is one of those who unaccountably believe that there must be still other trees upon this terrace. If, indeed, Dante is referring to the two most significant trees in the original garden, the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (Genesis 2:8), it would seem to be unlikely that he would have wanted us to imagine there might be others scattered along the terrace. Porena denies that the first speaking tree (Purg. XXII.141) is an offshoot of the Tree of Life, but believes that it, too, is derived from the Tree of Knowledge, an opinion that may seem difficult to justify.

Bosco/Reggio raise a question in their commentary (to verse 115): Why was the first tree (Purg. XXII.139) approachable, while this one is not? Would it not seem reasonable that the fruit of the Tree of Life should be precisely what purgation is preparing penitents to receive? At the same time, it would also seem reasonable that they should prepare for their reward by ceremonially avoiding the site of humanity's original sin.

The voice reminds the travelers (and the penitents, we assume) first of the 'Centaurs, mythical race, half horses and half men, said to have been offspring of Ixion, King of the Lapithae, and a cloud in the shape of Hera [Juno]' (Toynbee, “Centauri” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). The Centaurs fought with the Lapiths and Theseus at the wedding feast for Pirithoüs (the friend of Theseus and their half-brother) and his bride Hippodamia. The Centaurs attempt to rape the bride and bridesmaids but are prevented by Theseus and others. The final 300 lines of the scene, which served as Dante's source, in Ovid (Metam. XII.210-535) represent a kind of tumultuous and comic redoing of the battle scenes in the Iliad (and in the Aeneid), with plenty of body parts and blood.

For the double nature of the Centaurs (beast and man at once), see Inferno XII.84.

The Hebrews selected by Gideon to make war upon the Midianites were those who lifted water to their mouths in their cupped hands, as opposed to those who cast themselves down to a stream to drink directly with their mouths (see Judges 7:2-8). The ones remembered here are not the three hundred whom he chose to fight, but the 9,700 who were sent back to their tents. These were 'slack' in that they gave in totally to their desire to drink, while the 300 displayed a more controlled demeanor, more fitting to those who would require composure even in the heat of battle.

This voice, we shortly come to understand, comes from the angel of Temperance.

Singleton (comm. to vv. 137-139) points out that the description of this angel is indebted to John's Revelation (Apoc. 1:9-20). The passage, prologue to John's vision, tells how the apostle was ordered to write it by Jesus, a scene described in terms that at times closely resemble these.

The last of the similes in a canto rich with them compares the waft of air from the angel's wing felt by Dante on his brow to the sweet-smelling breeze of May. Tommaseo (general note to this canto) suggested a source in Virgil's fourth Georgic (IV.415): 'Haec ait et liquidum ambrosiae diffundit odorem' (She spoke, giving off the flowing fragrance of ambrosia). Cyrene is encouraging her despondent son, Aristaeus, to learn his fate from Proteus.

Dante now 'finishes' the Beatitude (Matthew 5:6) begun in Purgatorio XXII.4-6, 'Beati qui esuriunt et sitiunt iustitiam, quoniam ipsi saturabuntur' (Blessed are those who hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be satisfied). In the first context, applying to those who 'thirst' for riches, only sitiunt was heard, while here we have the echo only of the word for hunger, esuriunt.