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diff --git a/1005-0.txt b/1005-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8cae987 --- /dev/null +++ b/1005-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5344 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1005 *** + +HELL + +OR THE INFERNO FROM THE DIVINE COMEDY + +BY +Dante Alighieri + +Translated by +THE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A. + + +Contents + + CANTO I. + CANTO II. + CANTO III. + CANTO IV. + CANTO V. + CANTO VI. + CANTO VII. + CANTO VIII. + CANTO IX. + CANTO X. + CANTO XI. + CANTO XII. + CANTO XIII. + CANTO XIV. + CANTO XV. + CANTO XVI. + CANTO XVII. + CANTO XVIII. + CANTO XIX. + CANTO XX. + CANTO XXI. + CANTO XXII. + CANTO XXIII. + CANTO XXIV. + CANTO XXV. + CANTO XXVI. + CANTO XXVII. + CANTO XXVIII. + CANTO XXIX. + CANTO XXX. + CANTO XXXI. + CANTO XXXII. + CANTO XXXIII. + CANTO XXXIV. + + + + +HELL + + + + +CANTO I + + +In the midway of this our mortal life, +I found me in a gloomy wood, astray +Gone from the path direct: and e’en to tell +It were no easy task, how savage wild +That forest, how robust and rough its growth, +Which to remember only, my dismay +Renews, in bitterness not far from death. +Yet to discourse of what there good befell, +All else will I relate discover’d there. +How first I enter’d it I scarce can say, +Such sleepy dullness in that instant weigh’d +My senses down, when the true path I left, +But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where clos’d +The valley, that had pierc’d my heart with dread, +I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broad +Already vested with that planet’s beam, +Who leads all wanderers safe through every way. + +Then was a little respite to the fear, +That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain, +All of that night, so pitifully pass’d: +And as a man, with difficult short breath, +Forespent with toiling, ’scap’d from sea to shore, +Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands +At gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’d +Struggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits, +That none hath pass’d and liv’d. My weary frame +After short pause recomforted, again +I journey’d on over that lonely steep, + +The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascent +Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light, +And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d, +Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d, rather strove +To check my onward going; that ofttimes +With purpose to retrace my steps I turn’d. + +The hour was morning’s prime, and on his way +Aloft the sun ascended with those stars, +That with him rose, when Love divine first mov’d +Those its fair works: so that with joyous hope +All things conspir’d to fill me, the gay skin +Of that swift animal, the matin dawn +And the sweet season. Soon that joy was chas’d, +And by new dread succeeded, when in view +A lion came, ’gainst me, as it appear’d, + +With his head held aloft and hunger-mad, +That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf +Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem’d +Full of all wants, and many a land hath made +Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear +O’erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall’d, +That of the height all hope I lost. As one, +Who with his gain elated, sees the time +When all unwares is gone, he inwardly +Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I, +Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace, +Who coming o’er against me, by degrees +Impell’d me where the sun in silence rests. + +While to the lower space with backward step +I fell, my ken discern’d the form one of one, +Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech. +When him in that great desert I espied, +“Have mercy on me!” cried I out aloud, +“Spirit! or living man! what e’er thou be!” + +He answer’d: “Now not man, man once I was, +And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana both +By country, when the power of Julius yet +Was scarcely firm. At Rome my life was past +Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time +Of fabled deities and false. A bard +Was I, and made Anchises’ upright son +The subject of my song, who came from Troy, +When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers. +But thou, say wherefore to such perils past +Return’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount +Ascendest, cause and source of all delight?” +“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring, +From which such copious floods of eloquence +Have issued?” I with front abash’d replied. +“Glory and light of all the tuneful train! +May it avail me that I long with zeal +Have sought thy volume, and with love immense +Have conn’d it o’er. My master thou and guide! +Thou he from whom alone I have deriv’d +That style, which for its beauty into fame +Exalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled. +O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!” + +“For every vein and pulse throughout my frame +She hath made tremble.” He, soon as he saw +That I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needs +Another way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scape +From out that savage wilderness. This beast, +At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none +To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death: +So bad and so accursed in her kind, +That never sated is her ravenous will, +Still after food more craving than before. +To many an animal in wedlock vile +She fastens, and shall yet to many more, +Until that greyhound come, who shall destroy +Her with sharp pain. He will not life support +By earth nor its base metals, but by love, +Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall be +The land ’twixt either Feltro. In his might +Shall safety to Italia’s plains arise, +For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure, +Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell. +He with incessant chase through every town +Shall worry, until he to hell at length +Restore her, thence by envy first let loose. +I for thy profit pond’ring now devise, +That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide +Will lead thee hence through an eternal space, +Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see +Spirits of old tormented, who invoke +A second death; and those next view, who dwell +Content in fire, for that they hope to come, +Whene’er the time may be, among the blest, +Into whose regions if thou then desire +T’ ascend, a spirit worthier then I +Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart, +Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King, +Who reigns above, a rebel to his law, +Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed, +That to his city none through me should come. +He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds +His citadel and throne. O happy those, +Whom there he chooses!” I to him in few: +“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore, +I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse +I may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst, +That I Saint Peter’s gate may view, and those +Who as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.” + +Onward he mov’d, I close his steps pursu’d. + + + + +CANTO II + + +Now was the day departing, and the air, +Imbrown’d with shadows, from their toils releas’d +All animals on earth; and I alone +Prepar’d myself the conflict to sustain, +Both of sad pity, and that perilous road, +Which my unerring memory shall retrace. + +O Muses! O high genius! now vouchsafe +Your aid! O mind! that all I saw hast kept +Safe in a written record, here thy worth +And eminent endowments come to proof. + +I thus began: “Bard! thou who art my guide, +Consider well, if virtue be in me +Sufficient, ere to this high enterprise +Thou trust me. Thou hast told that Silvius’ sire, +Yet cloth’d in corruptible flesh, among +Th’ immortal tribes had entrance, and was there +Sensible present. Yet if heaven’s great Lord, +Almighty foe to ill, such favour shew’d, +In contemplation of the high effect, +Both what and who from him should issue forth, +It seems in reason’s judgment well deserv’d: +Sith he of Rome, and of Rome’s empire wide, +In heaven’s empyreal height was chosen sire: +Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain’d +And ’stablish’d for the holy place, where sits +Who to great Peter’s sacred chair succeeds. +He from this journey, in thy song renown’d, +Learn’d things, that to his victory gave rise +And to the papal robe. In after-times +The chosen vessel also travel’d there, +To bring us back assurance in that faith, +Which is the entrance to salvation’s way. +But I, why should I there presume? or who +Permits it? not, Aeneas I nor Paul. +Myself I deem not worthy, and none else +Will deem me. I, if on this voyage then +I venture, fear it will in folly end. +Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know’st, +Than I can speak.” As one, who unresolves +What he hath late resolv’d, and with new thoughts +Changes his purpose, from his first intent +Remov’d; e’en such was I on that dun coast, +Wasting in thought my enterprise, at first +So eagerly embrac’d. “If right thy words +I scan,” replied that shade magnanimous, +“Thy soul is by vile fear assail’d, which oft +So overcasts a man, that he recoils +From noblest resolution, like a beast +At some false semblance in the twilight gloom. +That from this terror thou mayst free thyself, +I will instruct thee why I came, and what +I heard in that same instant, when for thee +Grief touch’d me first. I was among the tribe, +Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blest +And lovely, I besought her to command, +Call’d me; her eyes were brighter than the star +Of day; and she with gentle voice and soft +Angelically tun’d her speech address’d: +“O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame +Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts! +A friend, not of my fortune but myself, +On the wide desert in his road has met +Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn’d. +Now much I dread lest he past help have stray’d, +And I be ris’n too late for his relief, +From what in heaven of him I heard. Speed now, +And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue, +And by all means for his deliverance meet, +Assist him. So to me will comfort spring. +I who now bid thee on this errand forth +Am Beatrice; from a place I come +Revisited with joy. Love brought me thence, +Who prompts my speech. When in my Master’s sight +I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell.” + +(Note: Beatrice. I use this word, as it is +pronounced in the Italian, as consisting of four +syllables, of which the third is a long one.) + + +She then was silent, and I thus began: +“O Lady! by whose influence alone, +Mankind excels whatever is contain’d +Within that heaven which hath the smallest orb, +So thy command delights me, that to obey, +If it were done already, would seem late. +No need hast thou farther to speak thy will; +Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth +To leave that ample space, where to return +Thou burnest, for this centre here beneath.” + +She then: “Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire, +I will instruct thee briefly, why no dread +Hinders my entrance here. Those things alone +Are to be fear’d, whence evil may proceed, +None else, for none are terrible beside. +I am so fram’d by God, thanks to his grace! +That any suff’rance of your misery +Touches me not, nor flame of that fierce fire +Assails me. In high heaven a blessed dame +Besides, who mourns with such effectual grief +That hindrance, which I send thee to remove, +That God’s stern judgment to her will inclines.” +To Lucia calling, her she thus bespake: +“Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid +And I commend him to thee.” At her word +Sped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe, +And coming to the place, where I abode +Seated with Rachel, her of ancient days, +She thus address’d me: “Thou true praise of God! +Beatrice! why is not thy succour lent +To him, who so much lov’d thee, as to leave +For thy sake all the multitude admires? +Dost thou not hear how pitiful his wail, +Nor mark the death, which in the torrent flood, +Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?” +“Ne’er among men did any with such speed +Haste to their profit, flee from their annoy, +As when these words were spoken, I came here, +Down from my blessed seat, trusting the force +Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all +Who well have mark’d it, into honour brings.” + +“When she had ended, her bright beaming eyes +Tearful she turn’d aside; whereat I felt +Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she will’d, +Thus am I come: I sav’d thee from the beast, +Who thy near way across the goodly mount +Prevented. What is this comes o’er thee then? +Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy breast +Harbour vile fear? why hast not courage there +And noble daring? Since three maids so blest +Thy safety plan, e’en in the court of heaven; +And so much certain good my words forebode.” + +As florets, by the frosty air of night +Bent down and clos’d, when day has blanch’d their leaves, +Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems; +So was my fainting vigour new restor’d, +And to my heart such kindly courage ran, +That I as one undaunted soon replied: +“O full of pity she, who undertook +My succour! and thou kind who didst perform +So soon her true behest! With such desire +Thou hast dispos’d me to renew my voyage, +That my first purpose fully is resum’d. +Lead on: one only will is in us both. +Thou art my guide, my master thou, and lord.” + +So spake I; and when he had onward mov’d, +I enter’d on the deep and woody way. + + + + +CANTO III + + +“Through me you pass into the city of woe: +Through me you pass into eternal pain: +Through me among the people lost for aye. +Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d: +To rear me was the task of power divine, +Supremest wisdom, and primeval love. +Before me things create were none, save things +Eternal, and eternal I endure. + +“All hope abandon ye who enter here.” + +Such characters in colour dim I mark’d +Over a portal’s lofty arch inscrib’d: +Whereat I thus: “Master, these words import +Hard meaning.” He as one prepar’d replied: +“Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave; +Here be vile fear extinguish’d. We are come +Where I have told thee we shall see the souls +To misery doom’d, who intellectual good +Have lost.” And when his hand he had stretch’d forth +To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer’d, +Into that secret place he led me on. + +Here sighs with lamentations and loud moans +Resounded through the air pierc’d by no star, +That e’en I wept at entering. Various tongues, +Horrible languages, outcries of woe, +Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, +With hands together smote that swell’d the sounds, +Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls +Round through that air with solid darkness stain’d, +Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies. + +I then, with error yet encompass’d, cried: +“O master! What is this I hear? What race +Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?” + +He thus to me: “This miserable fate +Suffer the wretched souls of those, who liv’d +Without or praise or blame, with that ill band +Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious prov’d +Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves +Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth, +Not to impair his lustre, nor the depth +Of Hell receives them, lest th’ accursed tribe +Should glory thence with exultation vain.” + +I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus, +That they lament so loud?” He straight replied: +“That will I tell thee briefly. These of death +No hope may entertain: and their blind life +So meanly passes, that all other lots +They envy. Fame of them the world hath none, +Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both. +Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.” + +And I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag, +Which whirling ran around so rapidly, +That it no pause obtain’d: and following came +Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er +Have thought, that death so many had despoil’d. + +When some of these I recogniz’d, I saw +And knew the shade of him, who to base fear +Yielding, abjur’d his high estate. Forthwith +I understood for certain this the tribe +Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing +And to his foes. These wretches, who ne’er lived, +Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung +By wasps and hornets, which bedew’d their cheeks +With blood, that mix’d with tears dropp’d to their feet, +And by disgustful worms was gather’d there. + +Then looking farther onwards I beheld +A throng upon the shore of a great stream: +Whereat I thus: “Sir! grant me now to know +Whom here we view, and whence impell’d they seem +So eager to pass o’er, as I discern +Through the blear light?” He thus to me in few: +“This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive +Beside the woeful tide of Acheron.” + +Then with eyes downward cast and fill’d with shame, +Fearing my words offensive to his ear, +Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech +Abstain’d. And lo! toward us in a bark +Comes on an old man hoary white with eld, + +Crying, “Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not +Ever to see the sky again. I come +To take you to the other shore across, +Into eternal darkness, there to dwell +In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there +Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave +These who are dead.” But soon as he beheld +I left them not, “By other way,” said he, +“By other haven shalt thou come to shore, +Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat +Must carry.” Then to him thus spake my guide: +“Charon! thyself torment not: so ’t is will’d, +Where will and power are one: ask thou no more.” + +Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks +Of him the boatman o’er the livid lake, +Around whose eyes glar’d wheeling flames. Meanwhile +Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang’d, +And gnash’d their teeth, soon as the cruel words +They heard. God and their parents they blasphem’d, +The human kind, the place, the time, and seed +That did engender them and give them birth. + +Then all together sorely wailing drew +To the curs’d strand, that every man must pass +Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form, +With eyes of burning coal, collects them all, +Beck’ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar +Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves, +One still another following, till the bough +Strews all its honours on the earth beneath; + +E’en in like manner Adam’s evil brood +Cast themselves one by one down from the shore, +Each at a beck, as falcon at his call. + +Thus go they over through the umber’d wave, +And ever they on the opposing bank +Be landed, on this side another throng +Still gathers. “Son,” thus spake the courteous guide, +“Those, who die subject to the wrath of God, +All here together come from every clime, +And to o’erpass the river are not loth: +For so heaven’s justice goads them on, that fear +Is turn’d into desire. Hence ne’er hath past +Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain, +Now mayst thou know the import of his words.” + +This said, the gloomy region trembling shook +So terribly, that yet with clammy dews +Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast, +That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame, +Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I +Down dropp’d, as one with sudden slumber seiz’d. + + + + +CANTO IV + + +Broke the deep slumber in my brain a crash +Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself, +As one by main force rous’d. Risen upright, +My rested eyes I mov’d around, and search’d +With fixed ken to know what place it was, +Wherein I stood. For certain on the brink +I found me of the lamentable vale, +The dread abyss, that joins a thund’rous sound +Of plaints innumerable. Dark and deep, +And thick with clouds o’erspread, mine eye in vain +Explor’d its bottom, nor could aught discern. + +“Now let us to the blind world there beneath +Descend;” the bard began all pale of look: +“I go the first, and thou shalt follow next.” + +Then I his alter’d hue perceiving, thus: +“How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread, +Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?” + +He then: “The anguish of that race below +With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear +Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way +Urges to haste.” Onward, this said, he mov’d; +And ent’ring led me with him on the bounds +Of the first circle, that surrounds th’ abyss. +Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard +Except of sighs, that made th’ eternal air +Tremble, not caus’d by tortures, but from grief +Felt by those multitudes, many and vast, +Of men, women, and infants. Then to me +The gentle guide: “Inquir’st thou not what spirits +Are these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou pass +Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin +Were blameless; and if aught they merited, +It profits not, since baptism was not theirs, +The portal to thy faith. If they before +The Gospel liv’d, they serv’d not God aright; +And among such am I. For these defects, +And for no other evil, we are lost;” + +“Only so far afflicted, that we live +Desiring without hope.” So grief assail’d +My heart at hearing this, for well I knew +Suspended in that Limbo many a soul +Of mighty worth. “O tell me, sire rever’d! +Tell me, my master!” I began through wish +Of full assurance in that holy faith, +Which vanquishes all error; “say, did e’er +Any, or through his own or other’s merit, +Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?” + +Piercing the secret purport of my speech, +He answer’d: “I was new to that estate, +When I beheld a puissant one arrive +Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown’d. +He forth the shade of our first parent drew, +Abel his child, and Noah righteous man, +Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv’d, +Of patriarch Abraham, and David king, +Israel with his sire and with his sons, +Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won, +And others many more, whom he to bliss +Exalted. Before these, be thou assur’d, +No spirit of human kind was ever sav’d.” + +We, while he spake, ceas’d not our onward road, +Still passing through the wood; for so I name +Those spirits thick beset. We were not far +On this side from the summit, when I kenn’d +A flame, that o’er the darken’d hemisphere +Prevailing shin’d. Yet we a little space +Were distant, not so far but I in part +Discover’d, that a tribe in honour high +That place possess’d. “O thou, who every art +And science valu’st! who are these, that boast +Such honour, separate from all the rest?” + +He answer’d: “The renown of their great names +That echoes through your world above, acquires +Favour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc’d.” +Meantime a voice I heard: “Honour the bard +Sublime! his shade returns that left us late!” +No sooner ceas’d the sound, than I beheld +Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps, +Of semblance neither sorrowful nor glad. + +When thus my master kind began: “Mark him, +Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen, +The other three preceding, as their lord. +This is that Homer, of all bards supreme: +Flaccus the next in satire’s vein excelling; +The third is Naso; Lucan is the last. +Because they all that appellation own, +With which the voice singly accosted me, +Honouring they greet me thus, and well they judge.” + +So I beheld united the bright school +Of him the monarch of sublimest song, +That o’er the others like an eagle soars. +When they together short discourse had held, +They turn’d to me, with salutation kind +Beck’ning me; at the which my master smil’d: +Nor was this all; but greater honour still +They gave me, for they made me of their tribe; +And I was sixth amid so learn’d a band. + +Far as the luminous beacon on we pass’d +Speaking of matters, then befitting well +To speak, now fitter left untold. At foot +Of a magnificent castle we arriv’d, +Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and round +Defended by a pleasant stream. O’er this +As o’er dry land we pass’d. Next through seven gates +I with those sages enter’d, and we came +Into a mead with lively verdure fresh. + +There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes around +Majestically mov’d, and in their port +Bore eminent authority; they spake +Seldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet. + +We to one side retir’d, into a place +Open and bright and lofty, whence each one +Stood manifest to view. Incontinent +There on the green enamel of the plain +Were shown me the great spirits, by whose sight +I am exalted in my own esteem. + +Electra there I saw accompanied +By many, among whom Hector I knew, +Anchises’ pious son, and with hawk’s eye +Caesar all arm’d, and by Camilla there +Penthesilea. On the other side +Old King Latinus, seated by his child +Lavinia, and that Brutus I beheld, +Who Tarquin chas’d, Lucretia, Cato’s wife +Marcia, with Julia and Cornelia there; +And sole apart retir’d, the Soldan fierce. + +Then when a little more I rais’d my brow, +I spied the master of the sapient throng, +Seated amid the philosophic train. +Him all admire, all pay him rev’rence due. +There Socrates and Plato both I mark’d, +Nearest to him in rank; Democritus, +Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes, +With Heraclitus, and Empedocles, +And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage, +Zeno, and Dioscorides well read +In nature’s secret lore. Orpheus I mark’d +And Linus, Tully and moral Seneca, +Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates, +Galenus, Avicen, and him who made +That commentary vast, Averroes. + +Of all to speak at full were vain attempt; +For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimes +My words fall short of what bechanc’d. In two +The six associates part. Another way +My sage guide leads me, from that air serene, +Into a climate ever vex’d with storms: +And to a part I come where no light shines. + + + + +CANTO V + + +From the first circle I descended thus +Down to the second, which, a lesser space +Embracing, so much more of grief contains +Provoking bitter moans. There, Minos stands +Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all +Who enter, strict examining the crimes, + +Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath, +According as he foldeth him around: +For when before him comes th’ ill fated soul, +It all confesses; and that judge severe +Of sins, considering what place in hell +Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft +Himself encircles, as degrees beneath +He dooms it to descend. Before him stand +Always a num’rous throng; and in his turn +Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears +His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d. + +“O thou! who to this residence of woe +Approachest?” when he saw me coming, cried +Minos, relinquishing his dread employ, +“Look how thou enter here; beware in whom +Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad +Deceive thee to thy harm.” To him my guide: +“Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way +By destiny appointed; so ’tis will’d +Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more.” + +Now ’gin the rueful wailings to be heard. +Now am I come where many a plaining voice +Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came +Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’d +A noise as of a sea in tempest torn +By warring winds. The stormy blast of hell +With restless fury drives the spirits on +Whirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy. + +When they arrive before the ruinous sweep, +There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans, +And blasphemies ’gainst the good Power in heaven. + +I understood that to this torment sad +The carnal sinners are condemn’d, in whom +Reason by lust is sway’d. As in large troops +And multitudinous, when winter reigns, +The starlings on their wings are borne abroad; +So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls. +On this side and on that, above, below, +It drives them: hope of rest to solace them +Is none, nor e’en of milder pang. As cranes, +Chanting their dol’rous notes, traverse the sky, +Stretch’d out in long array: so I beheld +Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on +By their dire doom. Then I: “Instructor! who +Are these, by the black air so scourg’d?”—“The first +’Mong those, of whom thou question’st,” he replied, +“O’er many tongues was empress. She in vice +Of luxury was so shameless, that she made +Liking be lawful by promulg’d decree, +To clear the blame she had herself incurr’d. +This is Semiramis, of whom ’tis writ, +That she succeeded Ninus her espous’d; +And held the land, which now the Soldan rules. +The next in amorous fury slew herself, +And to Sicheus’ ashes broke her faith: +Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen.” + +There mark’d I Helen, for whose sake so long +The time was fraught with evil; there the great +Achilles, who with love fought to the end. +Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside +A thousand more he show’d me, and by name +Pointed them out, whom love bereav’d of life. + +When I had heard my sage instructor name +Those dames and knights of antique days, o’erpower’d +By pity, well-nigh in amaze my mind +Was lost; and I began: “Bard! willingly +I would address those two together coming, +Which seem so light before the wind.” He thus: +“Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.” + +“Then by that love which carries them along, +Entreat; and they will come.” Soon as the wind +Sway’d them toward us, I thus fram’d my speech: +“O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse +With us, if by none else restrain’d.” As doves +By fond desire invited, on wide wings +And firm, to their sweet nest returning home, +Cleave the air, wafted by their will along; +Thus issu’d from that troop, where Dido ranks, +They through the ill air speeding; with such force +My cry prevail’d by strong affection urg’d. + +“O gracious creature and benign! who go’st +Visiting, through this element obscure, +Us, who the world with bloody stain imbru’d; +If for a friend the King of all we own’d, +Our pray’r to him should for thy peace arise, +Since thou hast pity on our evil plight. +()f whatsoe’er to hear or to discourse +It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that +Freely with thee discourse, while e’er the wind, +As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth, +Is situate on the coast, where Po descends +To rest in ocean with his sequent streams. + +“Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, +Entangled him by that fair form, from me +Ta’en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still: +Love, that denial takes from none belov’d, +Caught me with pleasing him so passing well, +That, as thou see’st, he yet deserts me not. + +“Love brought us to one death: Caina waits +The soul, who spilt our life.” Such were their words; +At hearing which downward I bent my looks, +And held them there so long, that the bard cried: +“What art thou pond’ring?” I in answer thus: +“Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire +Must they at length to that ill pass have reach’d!” + +Then turning, I to them my speech address’d. +And thus began: “Francesca! your sad fate +Even to tears my grief and pity moves. +But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs, +By what, and how love granted, that ye knew +Your yet uncertain wishes?” She replied: +“No greater grief than to remember days +Of joy, when mis’ry is at hand! That kens +Thy learn’d instructor. Yet so eagerly +If thou art bent to know the primal root, +From whence our love gat being, I will do, +As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day +For our delight we read of Lancelot, +How him love thrall’d. Alone we were, and no +Suspicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading +Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue +Fled from our alter’d cheek. But at one point +Alone we fell. When of that smile we read, +The wished smile, rapturously kiss’d +By one so deep in love, then he, who ne’er +From me shall separate, at once my lips +All trembling kiss’d. The book and writer both +Were love’s purveyors. In its leaves that day +We read no more.” While thus one spirit spake, +The other wail’d so sorely, that heartstruck +I through compassion fainting, seem’d not far +From death, and like a corpse fell to the ground. + + + + +CANTO VI + + +My sense reviving, that erewhile had droop’d +With pity for the kindred shades, whence grief +O’ercame me wholly, straight around I see +New torments, new tormented souls, which way +Soe’er I move, or turn, or bend my sight. +In the third circle I arrive, of show’rs +Ceaseless, accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang’d +For ever, both in kind and in degree. +Large hail, discolour’d water, sleety flaw +Through the dun midnight air stream’d down amain: +Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell. + +Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange, +Through his wide threefold throat barks as a dog +Over the multitude immers’d beneath. +His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard, +His belly large, and claw’d the hands, with which +He tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbs +Piecemeal disparts. Howling there spread, as curs, +Under the rainy deluge, with one side +The other screening, oft they roll them round, +A wretched, godless crew. When that great worm +Descried us, savage Cerberus, he op’d +His jaws, and the fangs show’d us; not a limb +Of him but trembled. Then my guide, his palms +Expanding on the ground, thence filled with earth +Rais’d them, and cast it in his ravenous maw. + +E’en as a dog, that yelling bays for food +His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall +His fury, bent alone with eager haste +To swallow it; so dropp’d the loathsome cheeks +Of demon Cerberus, who thund’ring stuns +The spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain. + +We, o’er the shades thrown prostrate by the brunt +Of the heavy tempest passing, set our feet +Upon their emptiness, that substance seem’d. + +They all along the earth extended lay +Save one, that sudden rais’d himself to sit, +Soon as that way he saw us pass. “O thou!” +He cried, “who through the infernal shades art led, +Own, if again thou know’st me. Thou wast fram’d +Or ere my frame was broken.” I replied: +“The anguish thou endur’st perchance so takes +Thy form from my remembrance, that it seems +As if I saw thee never. But inform +Me who thou art, that in a place so sad +Art set, and in such torment, that although +Other be greater, more disgustful none +Can be imagin’d.” He in answer thus: + +“Thy city heap’d with envy to the brim, +Ay that the measure overflows its bounds, +Held me in brighter days. Ye citizens +Were wont to name me Ciacco. For the sin +Of glutt’ny, damned vice, beneath this rain, +E’en as thou see’st, I with fatigue am worn; +Nor I sole spirit in this woe: all these +Have by like crime incurr’d like punishment.” + +No more he said, and I my speech resum’d: +“Ciacco! thy dire affliction grieves me much, +Even to tears. But tell me, if thou know’st, +What shall at length befall the citizens +Of the divided city; whether any just one +Inhabit there: and tell me of the cause, +Whence jarring discord hath assail’d it thus?” + +He then: “After long striving they will come +To blood; and the wild party from the woods +Will chase the other with much injury forth. +Then it behoves, that this must fall, within +Three solar circles; and the other rise +By borrow’d force of one, who under shore +Now rests. It shall a long space hold aloof +Its forehead, keeping under heavy weight +The other oppress’d, indignant at the load, +And grieving sore. The just are two in number, +But they neglected. Av’rice, envy, pride, +Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all +On fire.” Here ceas’d the lamentable sound; +And I continu’d thus: “Still would I learn +More from thee, farther parley still entreat. +Of Farinata and Tegghiaio say, +They who so well deserv’d, of Giacopo, +Arrigo, Mosca, and the rest, who bent +Their minds on working good. Oh! tell me where +They bide, and to their knowledge let me come. +For I am press’d with keen desire to hear, +If heaven’s sweet cup or poisonous drug of hell +Be to their lip assign’d.” He answer’d straight: +“These are yet blacker spirits. Various crimes +Have sunk them deeper in the dark abyss. +If thou so far descendest, thou mayst see them. +But to the pleasant world when thou return’st, +Of me make mention, I entreat thee, there. +No more I tell thee, answer thee no more.” + +This said, his fixed eyes he turn’d askance, +A little ey’d me, then bent down his head, +And ’midst his blind companions with it fell. + +When thus my guide: “No more his bed he leaves, +Ere the last angel-trumpet blow. The Power +Adverse to these shall then in glory come, +Each one forthwith to his sad tomb repair, +Resume his fleshly vesture and his form, +And hear the eternal doom re-echoing rend +The vault.” So pass’d we through that mixture foul +Of spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhile +Touching, though slightly, on the life to come. +For thus I question’d: “Shall these tortures, Sir! +When the great sentence passes, be increas’d, +Or mitigated, or as now severe?” + +He then: “Consult thy knowledge; that decides +That as each thing to more perfection grows, +It feels more sensibly both good and pain. +Though ne’er to true perfection may arrive +This race accurs’d, yet nearer then than now +They shall approach it.” Compassing that path +Circuitous we journeyed, and discourse +Much more than I relate between us pass’d: +Till at the point, where the steps led below, +Arriv’d, there Plutus, the great foe, we found. + + + + +CANTO VII + + +“Ah me! O Satan! Satan!” loud exclaim’d +Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm: +And the kind sage, whom no event surpris’d, +To comfort me thus spake: “Let not thy fear +Harm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none +To hinder down this rock thy safe descent.” +Then to that sworn lip turning, “Peace!” he cried, + +“Curs’d wolf! thy fury inward on thyself +Prey, and consume thee! Through the dark profound +Not without cause he passes. So ’t is will’d +On high, there where the great Archangel pour’d +Heav’n’s vengeance on the first adulterer proud.” + +As sails full spread and bellying with the wind +Drop suddenly collaps’d, if the mast split; +So to the ground down dropp’d the cruel fiend. + +Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge, +Gain’d on the dismal shore, that all the woe +Hems in of all the universe. Ah me! +Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap’st +New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld! +Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this? + +E’en as a billow, on Charybdis rising, +Against encounter’d billow dashing breaks; +Such is the dance this wretched race must lead, +Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found, +From one side and the other, with loud voice, +Both roll’d on weights by main forge of their breasts, +Then smote together, and each one forthwith +Roll’d them back voluble, turning again, +Exclaiming these, “Why holdest thou so fast?” +Those answering, “And why castest thou away?” +So still repeating their despiteful song, +They to the opposite point on either hand +Travers’d the horrid circle: then arriv’d, +Both turn’d them round, and through the middle space +Conflicting met again. At sight whereof +I, stung with grief, thus spake: “O say, my guide! +What race is this? Were these, whose heads are shorn, +On our left hand, all sep’rate to the church?” + +He straight replied: “In their first life these all +In mind were so distorted, that they made, +According to due measure, of their wealth, +No use. This clearly from their words collect, +Which they howl forth, at each extremity +Arriving of the circle, where their crime +Contrary’ in kind disparts them. To the church +Were separate those, that with no hairy cowls +Are crown’d, both Popes and Cardinals, o’er whom +Av’rice dominion absolute maintains.” + +I then: “Mid such as these some needs must be, +Whom I shall recognize, that with the blot +Of these foul sins were stain’d.” He answering thus: +“Vain thought conceiv’st thou. That ignoble life, +Which made them vile before, now makes them dark, +And to all knowledge indiscernible. +Forever they shall meet in this rude shock: +These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise, +Those with close-shaven locks. That ill they gave, +And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world +Depriv’d, and set them at this strife, which needs +No labour’d phrase of mine to set if off. +Now may’st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain, +The goods committed into fortune’s hands, +For which the human race keep such a coil! +Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon, +Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls +Might purchase rest for one.” I thus rejoin’d: + +“My guide! of thee this also would I learn; +This fortune, that thou speak’st of, what it is, +Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?” + +He thus: “O beings blind! what ignorance +Besets you? Now my judgment hear and mark. +He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all, +The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers +To guide them, so that each part shines to each, +Their light in equal distribution pour’d. +By similar appointment he ordain’d +Over the world’s bright images to rule. +Superintendence of a guiding hand +And general minister, which at due time +May change the empty vantages of life +From race to race, from one to other’s blood, +Beyond prevention of man’s wisest care: +Wherefore one nation rises into sway, +Another languishes, e’en as her will +Decrees, from us conceal’d, as in the grass +The serpent train. Against her nought avails +Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans, +Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs +The other powers divine. Her changes know +Nore intermission: by necessity +She is made swift, so frequent come who claim +Succession in her favours. This is she, +So execrated e’en by those, whose debt +To her is rather praise; they wrongfully +With blame requite her, and with evil word; +But she is blessed, and for that recks not: +Amidst the other primal beings glad +Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults. +Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe +Descending: for each star is falling now, +That mounted at our entrance, and forbids +Too long our tarrying.” We the circle cross’d +To the next steep, arriving at a well, +That boiling pours itself down to a foss +Sluic’d from its source. Far murkier was the wave +Than sablest grain: and we in company +Of the’ inky waters, journeying by their side, +Enter’d, though by a different track, beneath. +Into a lake, the Stygian nam’d, expands +The dismal stream, when it hath reach’d the foot +Of the grey wither’d cliffs. Intent I stood +To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried +A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks +Betok’ning rage. They with their hands alone +Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet, +Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs. + +The good instructor spake; “Now seest thou, son! +The souls of those, whom anger overcame. +This too for certain know, that underneath +The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs +Into these bubbles make the surface heave, +As thine eye tells thee wheresoe’er it turn.” +Fix’d in the slime they say: “Sad once were we +In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun, +Carrying a foul and lazy mist within: +Now in these murky settlings are we sad.” +Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats. +But word distinct can utter none.” Our route +Thus compass’d we, a segment widely stretch’d +Between the dry embankment, and the core +Of the loath’d pool, turning meanwhile our eyes +Downward on those who gulp’d its muddy lees; +Nor stopp’d, till to a tower’s low base we came. + + + + +CANTO VIII + + +My theme pursuing, I relate that ere +We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes +Its height ascended, where two cressets hung +We mark’d, and from afar another light +Return the signal, so remote, that scarce +The eye could catch its beam. I turning round +To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir’d: +“Say what this means? and what that other light +In answer set? what agency doth this?” + +“There on the filthy waters,” he replied, +“E’en now what next awaits us mayst thou see, +If the marsh-gender’d fog conceal it not.” + +Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d, +That ran its way so nimbly through the air, +As a small bark, that through the waves I spied +Toward us coming, under the sole sway +Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud: +“Art thou arriv’d, fell spirit?”—“Phlegyas, Phlegyas, +This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied; +“No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er +The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears +Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat +Inly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin’d +In his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp’d +Into the skiff, and bade me enter next +Close at his side; nor till my entrance seem’d +The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d, +Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow, +More deeply than with others it is wont. + +While we our course o’er the dead channel held. +One drench’d in mire before me came, and said; +“Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?” + +I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not; +But who art thou, that art become so foul?” + +“One, as thou seest, who mourn:” he straight replied. + +To which I thus: “In mourning and in woe, +Curs’d spirit! tarry thou.g I know thee well, +E’en thus in filth disguis’d.” Then stretch’d he forth +Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage +Aware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there; + +“To the’ other dogs!” then, with his arms my neck +Encircling, kiss’d my cheek, and spake: “O soul +Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom +Thou was conceiv’d! He in the world was one +For arrogance noted; to his memory +No virtue lends its lustre; even so +Here is his shadow furious. There above +How many now hold themselves mighty kings +Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire, +Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!” + +I then: “Master! him fain would I behold +Whelm’d in these dregs, before we quit the lake.” + +He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shore +Be offer’d, satisfied shall be that wish, +Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his words +Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes +Set on him with such violence, that yet +For that render I thanks to God and praise +“To Filippo Argenti:” cried they all: +And on himself the moody Florentine +Turn’d his avenging fangs. Him here we left, +Nor speak I of him more. But on mine ear +Sudden a sound of lamentation smote, +Whereat mine eye unbarr’d I sent abroad. + +And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son! +Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam’d, +With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.” + +I thus: “The minarets already, Sir! +There certes in the valley I descry, +Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire +Had issu’d.” He replied: “Eternal fire, +That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame +Illum’d; as in this nether hell thou seest.” + +We came within the fosses deep, that moat +This region comfortless. The walls appear’d +As they were fram’d of iron. We had made +Wide circuit, ere a place we reach’d, where loud +The mariner cried vehement: “Go forth! +The’ entrance is here!” Upon the gates I spied +More than a thousand, who of old from heaven +Were hurl’d. With ireful gestures, “Who is this,” +They cried, “that without death first felt, goes through +The regions of the dead?” My sapient guide +Made sign that he for secret parley wish’d; +Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus +They spake: “Come thou alone; and let him go +Who hath so hardily enter’d this realm. +Alone return he by his witless way; +If well he know it, let him prove. For thee, +Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark +Hast been his escort.” Now bethink thee, reader! +What cheer was mine at sound of those curs’d words. +I did believe I never should return. + +“O my lov’d guide! who more than seven times +Security hast render’d me, and drawn +From peril deep, whereto I stood expos’d, +Desert me not,” I cried, “in this extreme. +And if our onward going be denied, +Together trace we back our steps with speed.” + +My liege, who thither had conducted me, +Replied: “Fear not: for of our passage none +Hath power to disappoint us, by such high +Authority permitted. But do thou +Expect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spirit +Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur’d +I will not leave thee in this lower world.” + +This said, departs the sire benevolent, +And quits me. Hesitating I remain +At war ’twixt will and will not in my thoughts. + +I could not hear what terms he offer’d them, +But they conferr’d not long, for all at once +To trial fled within. Clos’d were the gates +By those our adversaries on the breast +Of my liege lord: excluded he return’d +To me with tardy steps. Upon the ground +His eyes were bent, and from his brow eras’d +All confidence, while thus with sighs he spake: +“Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?” +Then thus to me: “That I am anger’d, think +No ground of terror: in this trial I +Shall vanquish, use what arts they may within +For hindrance. This their insolence, not new, +Erewhile at gate less secret they display’d, +Which still is without bolt; upon its arch +Thou saw’st the deadly scroll: and even now +On this side of its entrance, down the steep, +Passing the circles, unescorted, comes +One whose strong might can open us this land.” + + + + +CANTO IX + + +The hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeks +Imprinted, when I saw my guide turn back, +Chas’d that from his which newly they had worn, +And inwardly restrain’d it. He, as one +Who listens, stood attentive: for his eye +Not far could lead him through the sable air, +And the thick-gath’ring cloud. “It yet behooves +We win this fight”—thus he began—“if not— +Such aid to us is offer’d.—Oh, how long +Me seems it, ere the promis’d help arrive!” + +I noted, how the sequel of his words +Clok’d their beginning; for the last he spake +Agreed not with the first. But not the less +My fear was at his saying; sith I drew +To import worse perchance, than that he held, +His mutilated speech. “Doth ever any +Into this rueful concave’s extreme depth +Descend, out of the first degree, whose pain +Is deprivation merely of sweet hope?” + +Thus I inquiring. “Rarely,” he replied, +“It chances, that among us any makes +This journey, which I wend. Erewhile ’tis true +Once came I here beneath, conjur’d by fell +Erictho, sorceress, who compell’d the shades +Back to their bodies. No long space my flesh +Was naked of me, when within these walls +She made me enter, to draw forth a spirit +From out of Judas’ circle. Lowest place +Is that of all, obscurest, and remov’d +Farthest from heav’n’s all-circling orb. The road +Full well I know: thou therefore rest secure. +That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round +The city’ of grief encompasses, which now +We may not enter without rage.” Yet more +He added: but I hold it not in mind, +For that mine eye toward the lofty tower +Had drawn me wholly, to its burning top. +Where in an instant I beheld uprisen +At once three hellish furies stain’d with blood: +In limb and motion feminine they seem’d; +Around them greenest hydras twisting roll’d +Their volumes; adders and cerastes crept +Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound. + +He knowing well the miserable hags +Who tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake: + +“Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the left +This is Megaera; on the right hand she, +Who wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone +I’ th’ midst.” This said, in silence he remain’d +Their breast they each one clawing tore; themselves +Smote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais’d, +That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound. +“Hasten Medusa: so to adamant +Him shall we change;” all looking down exclaim’d. +“E’en when by Theseus’ might assail’d, we took +No ill revenge.” “Turn thyself round, and keep +Thy count’nance hid; for if the Gorgon dire +Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return +Upwards would be for ever lost.” This said, +Himself my gentle master turn’d me round, +Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own +He also hid me. Ye of intellect +Sound and entire, mark well the lore conceal’d +Under close texture of the mystic strain! + +And now there came o’er the perturbed waves +Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made +Either shore tremble, as if of a wind +Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung, +That ’gainst some forest driving all its might, +Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurls +Afar; then onward passing proudly sweeps +Its whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly. + +Mine eyes he loos’d, and spake: “And now direct +Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam, +There, thickest where the smoke ascends.” As frogs +Before their foe the serpent, through the wave +Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one +Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits +Destroy’d, so saw I fleeing before one +Who pass’d with unwet feet the Stygian sound. +He, from his face removing the gross air, +Oft his left hand forth stretch’d, and seem’d alone +By that annoyance wearied. I perceiv’d +That he was sent from heav’n, and to my guide +Turn’d me, who signal made that I should stand +Quiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how full +Of noble anger seem’d he! To the gate +He came, and with his wand touch’d it, whereat +Open without impediment it flew. + +“Outcasts of heav’n! O abject race and scorn’d!” +Began he on the horrid grunsel standing, +“Whence doth this wild excess of insolence +Lodge in you? wherefore kick you ’gainst that will +Ne’er frustrate of its end, and which so oft +Hath laid on you enforcement of your pangs? +What profits at the fays to but the horn? +Your Cerberus, if ye remember, hence +Bears still, peel’d of their hair, his throat and maw.” + +This said, he turn’d back o’er the filthy way, +And syllable to us spake none, but wore +The semblance of a man by other care +Beset, and keenly press’d, than thought of him +Who in his presence stands. Then we our steps +Toward that territory mov’d, secure +After the hallow’d words. We unoppos’d +There enter’d; and my mind eager to learn +What state a fortress like to that might hold, +I soon as enter’d throw mine eye around, +And see on every part wide-stretching space +Replete with bitter pain and torment ill. + +As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles, +Or as at Pola, near Quarnaro’s gulf, +That closes Italy and laves her bounds, +The place is all thick spread with sepulchres; +So was it here, save what in horror here +Excell’d: for ’midst the graves were scattered flames, +Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn’d, +That iron for no craft there hotter needs. + +Their lids all hung suspended, and beneath +From them forth issu’d lamentable moans, +Such as the sad and tortur’d well might raise. + +I thus: “Master! say who are these, interr’d +Within these vaults, of whom distinct we hear +The dolorous sighs?” He answer thus return’d: + +“The arch-heretics are here, accompanied +By every sect their followers; and much more, +Than thou believest, tombs are freighted: like +With like is buried; and the monuments +Are different in degrees of heat.” This said, +He to the right hand turning, on we pass’d +Betwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high. + + + + +CANTO X + + +Now by a secret pathway we proceed, +Between the walls, that hem the region round, +And the tormented souls: my master first, +I close behind his steps. “Virtue supreme!” +I thus began; “who through these ample orbs +In circuit lead’st me, even as thou will’st, +Speak thou, and satisfy my wish. May those, +Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen? +Already all the lids are rais’d, and none +O’er them keeps watch.” He thus in answer spake +“They shall be closed all, what-time they here +From Josaphat return’d shall come, and bring +Their bodies, which above they now have left. +The cemetery on this part obtain +With Epicurus all his followers, +Who with the body make the spirit die. +Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon +Both to the question ask’d, and to the wish, +Which thou conceal’st in silence.” I replied: +“I keep not, guide belov’d! from thee my heart +Secreted, but to shun vain length of words, +A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself.” + +“O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire +Alive art passing, so discreet of speech! +Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utterance +Declares the place of thy nativity +To be that noble land, with which perchance +I too severely dealt.” Sudden that sound +Forth issu’d from a vault, whereat in fear +I somewhat closer to my leader’s side +Approaching, he thus spake: “What dost thou? Turn. +Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himself +Uplifted: from his girdle upwards all +Expos’d behold him.” On his face was mine +Already fix’d; his breast and forehead there +Erecting, seem’d as in high scorn he held +E’en hell. Between the sepulchres to him +My guide thrust me with fearless hands and prompt, +This warning added: “See thy words be clear!” + +He, soon as there I stood at the tomb’s foot, +Ey’d me a space, then in disdainful mood +Address’d me: “Say, what ancestors were thine?” + +I, willing to obey him, straight reveal’d +The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow +Somewhat uplifting, cried: “Fiercely were they +Adverse to me, my party, and the blood +From whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroad +Scatter’d them.” “Though driv’n out, yet they each time +From all parts,” answer’d I, “return’d; an art +Which yours have shown, they are not skill’d to learn.” + +Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw, +Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin, +Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais’d. +It look’d around, as eager to explore +If there were other with me; but perceiving +That fond imagination quench’d, with tears +Thus spake: “If thou through this blind prison go’st. +Led by thy lofty genius and profound, +Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?” + +I straight replied: “Not of myself I come, +By him, who there expects me, through this clime +Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son +Had in contempt.” Already had his words +And mode of punishment read me his name, +Whence I so fully answer’d. He at once +Exclaim’d, up starting, “How! said’st thou he HAD? +No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye +The blessed daylight?” Then of some delay +I made ere my reply aware, down fell +Supine, not after forth appear’d he more. + +Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom +I yet was station’d, chang’d not count’nance stern, +Nor mov’d the neck, nor bent his ribbed side. +“And if,” continuing the first discourse, +“They in this art,” he cried, “small skill have shown, +That doth torment me more e’en than this bed. +But not yet fifty times shall be relum’d +Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm, +Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art. +So to the pleasant world mayst thou return, +As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws, +Against my kin this people is so fell?” + +“The slaughter and great havoc,” I replied, +“That colour’d Arbia’s flood with crimson stain— +To these impute, that in our hallow’d dome +Such orisons ascend.” Sighing he shook +The head, then thus resum’d: “In that affray +I stood not singly, nor without just cause +Assuredly should with the rest have stirr’d; +But singly there I stood, when by consent +Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz’d, +The one who openly forbad the deed.” + +“So may thy lineage find at last repose,” +I thus adjur’d him, “as thou solve this knot, +Which now involves my mind. If right I hear, +Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time +Leads with him, of the present uninform’d.” + +“We view, as one who hath an evil sight,” +He answer’d, “plainly, objects far remote: +So much of his large spendour yet imparts +The’ Almighty Ruler; but when they approach +Or actually exist, our intellect +Then wholly fails, nor of your human state +Except what others bring us know we aught. +Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all +Our knowledge in that instant shall expire, +When on futurity the portals close.” + +Then conscious of my fault, and by remorse +Smitten, I added thus: “Now shalt thou say +To him there fallen, that his offspring still +Is to the living join’d; and bid him know, +That if from answer silent I abstain’d, +’Twas that my thought was occupied intent +Upon that error, which thy help hath solv’d.” + +But now my master summoning me back +I heard, and with more eager haste besought +The spirit to inform me, who with him +Partook his lot. He answer thus return’d: + +“More than a thousand with me here are laid +Within is Frederick, second of that name, +And the Lord Cardinal, and of the rest +I speak not.” He, this said, from sight withdrew. +But I my steps towards the ancient bard +Reverting, ruminated on the words +Betokening me such ill. Onward he mov’d, +And thus in going question’d: “Whence the’ amaze +That holds thy senses wrapt?” I satisfied +The’ inquiry, and the sage enjoin’d me straight: +“Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard +To thee importing harm; and note thou this,” +With his rais’d finger bidding me take heed, + +“When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam, +Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life +The future tenour will to thee unfold.” + +Forthwith he to the left hand turn’d his feet: +We left the wall, and tow’rds the middle space +Went by a path, that to a valley strikes; +Which e’en thus high exhal’d its noisome steam. + + + + +CANTO XI + + +Upon the utmost verge of a high bank, +By craggy rocks environ’d round, we came, +Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow’d: +And here to shun the horrible excess +Of fetid exhalation, upward cast +From the profound abyss, behind the lid +Of a great monument we stood retir’d, + +Whereon this scroll I mark’d: “I have in charge +Pope Anastasius, whom Photinus drew +From the right path.—Ere our descent behooves +We make delay, that somewhat first the sense, +To the dire breath accustom’d, afterward +Regard it not.” My master thus; to whom +Answering I spake: “Some compensation find +That the time past not wholly lost.” He then: +“Lo! how my thoughts e’en to thy wishes tend! +My son! within these rocks,” he thus began, +“Are three close circles in gradation plac’d, +As these which now thou leav’st. Each one is full +Of spirits accurs’d; but that the sight alone +Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how +And for what cause in durance they abide. + +“Of all malicious act abhorr’d in heaven, +The end is injury; and all such end +Either by force or fraud works other’s woe +But fraud, because of man peculiar evil, +To God is more displeasing; and beneath +The fraudulent are therefore doom’d to’ endure +Severer pang. The violent occupy +All the first circle; and because to force +Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds +Hach within other sep’rate is it fram’d. +To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man +Force may be offer’d; to himself I say +And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear +At full. Death, violent death, and painful wounds +Upon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastes +By devastation, pillage, and the flames, +His substance. Slayers, and each one that smites +In malice, plund’rers, and all robbers, hence +The torment undergo of the first round +In different herds. Man can do violence +To himself and his own blessings: and for this +He in the second round must aye deplore +With unavailing penitence his crime, +Whoe’er deprives himself of life and light, +In reckless lavishment his talent wastes, +And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy. +To God may force be offer’d, in the heart +Denying and blaspheming his high power, +And nature with her kindly law contemning. +And thence the inmost round marks with its seal +Sodom and Cahors, and all such as speak +Contemptuously’ of the Godhead in their hearts. + +“Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting, +May be by man employ’d on one, whose trust +He wins, or on another who withholds +Strict confidence. Seems as the latter way +Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes. +Whence in the second circle have their nest +Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries, +Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduce +To lust, or set their honesty at pawn, +With such vile scum as these. The other way +Forgets both Nature’s general love, and that +Which thereto added afterwards gives birth +To special faith. Whence in the lesser circle, +Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis, +The traitor is eternally consum’d.” + +I thus: “Instructor, clearly thy discourse +Proceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasm +And its inhabitants with skill exact. +But tell me this: they of the dull, fat pool, +Whom the rain beats, or whom the tempest drives, +Or who with tongues so fierce conflicting meet, +Wherefore within the city fire-illum’d +Are not these punish’d, if God’s wrath be on them? +And if it be not, wherefore in such guise +Are they condemned?” He answer thus return’d: +“Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind, +Not so accustom’d? or what other thoughts +Possess it? Dwell not in thy memory +The words, wherein thy ethic page describes +Three dispositions adverse to Heav’n’s will, +Incont’nence, malice, and mad brutishness, +And how incontinence the least offends +God, and least guilt incurs? If well thou note +This judgment, and remember who they are, +Without these walls to vain repentance doom’d, +Thou shalt discern why they apart are plac’d +From these fell spirits, and less wreakful pours +Justice divine on them its vengeance down.” + +“O Sun! who healest all imperfect sight, +Thou so content’st me, when thou solv’st my doubt, +That ignorance not less than knowledge charms. +Yet somewhat turn thee back,” I in these words +Continu’d, “where thou saidst, that usury +Offends celestial Goodness; and this knot +Perplex’d unravel.” He thus made reply: +“Philosophy, to an attentive ear, +Clearly points out, not in one part alone, +How imitative nature takes her course +From the celestial mind and from its art: +And where her laws the Stagyrite unfolds, +Not many leaves scann’d o’er, observing well +Thou shalt discover, that your art on her +Obsequious follows, as the learner treads +In his instructor’s step, so that your art +Deserves the name of second in descent +From God. These two, if thou recall to mind +Creation’s holy book, from the beginning +Were the right source of life and excellence +To human kind. But in another path +The usurer walks; and Nature in herself +And in her follower thus he sets at nought, +Placing elsewhere his hope. But follow now +My steps on forward journey bent; for now +The Pisces play with undulating glance +Along the’ horizon, and the Wain lies all +O’er the north-west; and onward there a space +Is our steep passage down the rocky height.” + + + + +CANTO XII + + +The place where to descend the precipice +We came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge +Such object lay, as every eye would shun. + +As is that ruin, which Adice’s stream +On this side Trento struck, should’ring the wave, +Or loos’d by earthquake or for lack of prop; +For from the mountain’s summit, whence it mov’d +To the low level, so the headlong rock +Is shiver’d, that some passage it might give +To him who from above would pass; e’en such +Into the chasm was that descent: and there +At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch’d +The infamy of Crete, detested brood +Of the feign’d heifer: and at sight of us +It gnaw’d itself, as one with rage distract. + +To him my guide exclaim’d: “Perchance thou deem’st +The King of Athens here, who, in the world +Above, thy death contriv’d. Monster! avaunt! +He comes not tutor’d by thy sister’s art, +But to behold your torments is he come.” + +Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring +Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow +Hath struck him, but unable to proceed +Plunges on either side; so saw I plunge +The Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim’d: +“Run to the passage! while he storms, ’t is well +That thou descend.” Thus down our road we took +Through those dilapidated crags, that oft +Mov’d underneath my feet, to weight like theirs +Unus’d. I pond’ring went, and thus he spake: + +“Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin’d steep, +Guarded by the brute violence, which I +Have vanquish’d now. Know then, that when I erst +Hither descended to the nether hell, +This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt +(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived, +Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil +Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds +Such trembling seiz’d the deep concave and foul, +I thought the universe was thrill’d with love, +Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft +Been into chaos turn’d: and in that point, +Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down. +But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of blood +Approaches, in the which all those are steep’d, +Who have by violence injur’d.” O blind lust! +O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on +In the brief life, and in the eternal then +Thus miserably o’erwhelm us. I beheld +An ample foss, that in a bow was bent, +As circling all the plain; for so my guide +Had told. Between it and the rampart’s base +On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm’d, +As to the chase they on the earth were wont. + +At seeing us descend they each one stood; +And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows +And missile weapons chosen first; of whom +One cried from far: “Say to what pain ye come +Condemn’d, who down this steep have journied? Speak +From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw.” + +To whom my guide: “Our answer shall be made +To Chiron, there, when nearer him we come. +Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash.” + +Then me he touch’d, and spake: “Nessus is this, +Who for the fair Deianira died, +And wrought himself revenge for his own fate. +He in the midst, that on his breast looks down, +Is the great Chiron who Achilles nurs’d; +That other Pholus, prone to wrath.” Around +The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts +At whatsoever spirit dares emerge +From out the blood, more than his guilt allows. + +We to those beasts, that rapid strode along, +Drew near, when Chiron took an arrow forth, +And with the notch push’d back his shaggy beard +To the cheek-bone, then his great mouth to view +Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim’d: +“Are ye aware, that he who comes behind +Moves what he touches? The feet of the dead +Are not so wont.” My trusty guide, who now +Stood near his breast, where the two natures join, +Thus made reply: “He is indeed alive, +And solitary so must needs by me +Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc’d +By strict necessity, not by delight. +She left her joyful harpings in the sky, +Who this new office to my care consign’d. +He is no robber, no dark spirit I. +But by that virtue, which empowers my step +To treat so wild a path, grant us, I pray, +One of thy band, whom we may trust secure, +Who to the ford may lead us, and convey +Across, him mounted on his back; for he +Is not a spirit that may walk the air.” + +Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus +To Nessus spake: “Return, and be their guide. +And if ye chance to cross another troop, +Command them keep aloof.” Onward we mov’d, +The faithful escort by our side, along +The border of the crimson-seething flood, +Whence from those steep’d within loud shrieks arose. + +Some there I mark’d, as high as to their brow +Immers’d, of whom the mighty Centaur thus: +“These are the souls of tyrants, who were given +To blood and rapine. Here they wail aloud +Their merciless wrongs. Here Alexander dwells, +And Dionysius fell, who many a year +Of woe wrought for fair Sicily. That brow +Whereon the hair so jetty clust’ring hangs, +Is Azzolino; that with flaxen locks +Obizzo’ of Este, in the world destroy’d +By his foul step-son.” To the bard rever’d +I turned me round, and thus he spake; “Let him +Be to thee now first leader, me but next +To him in rank.” Then farther on a space +The Centaur paus’d, near some, who at the throat +Were extant from the wave; and showing us +A spirit by itself apart retir’d, +Exclaim’d: “He in God’s bosom smote the heart, +Which yet is honour’d on the bank of Thames.” + +A race I next espied, who held the head, +And even all the bust above the stream. +’Midst these I many a face remember’d well. +Thus shallow more and more the blood became, +So that at last it but imbru’d the feet; +And there our passage lay athwart the foss. + +“As ever on this side the boiling wave +Thou seest diminishing,” the Centaur said, +“So on the other, be thou well assur’d, +It lower still and lower sinks its bed, +Till in that part it reuniting join, +Where ’t is the lot of tyranny to mourn. +There Heav’n’s stern justice lays chastising hand +On Attila, who was the scourge of earth, +On Sextus, and on Pyrrhus, and extracts +Tears ever by the seething flood unlock’d +From the Rinieri, of Corneto this, +Pazzo the other nam’d, who fill’d the ways +With violence and war.” This said, he turn’d, +And quitting us, alone repass’d the ford. + + + + +CANTO XIII + + +Ere Nessus yet had reach’d the other bank, +We enter’d on a forest, where no track +Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there +The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light +The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform’d +And matted thick: fruits there were none, but thorns +Instead, with venom fill’d. Less sharp than these, +Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide +Those animals, that hate the cultur’d fields, +Betwixt Corneto and Cecina’s stream. + +Here the brute Harpies make their nest, the same +Who from the Strophades the Trojan band +Drove with dire boding of their future woe. +Broad are their pennons, of the human form +Their neck and count’nance, arm’d with talons keen +The feet, and the huge belly fledge with wings +These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood. + +The kind instructor in these words began: +“Ere farther thou proceed, know thou art now +I’ th’ second round, and shalt be, till thou come +Upon the horrid sand: look therefore well +Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold, +As would my speech discredit.” On all sides +I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see +From whom they might have issu’d. In amaze +Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem’d, believ’d, +That I had thought so many voices came +From some amid those thickets close conceal’d, +And thus his speech resum’d: “If thou lop off +A single twig from one of those ill plants, +The thought thou hast conceiv’d shall vanish quite.” + +Thereat a little stretching forth my hand, +From a great wilding gather’d I a branch, +And straight the trunk exclaim’d: “Why pluck’st thou me?” + +Then as the dark blood trickled down its side, +These words it added: “Wherefore tear’st me thus? +Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast? +Men once were we, that now are rooted here. +Thy hand might well have spar’d us, had we been +The souls of serpents.” As a brand yet green, +That burning at one end from the’ other sends +A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind +That forces out its way, so burst at once, +Forth from the broken splinter words and blood. + +I, letting fall the bough, remain’d as one +Assail’d by terror, and the sage replied: +“If he, O injur’d spirit! could have believ’d +What he hath seen but in my verse describ’d, +He never against thee had stretch’d his hand. +But I, because the thing surpass’d belief, +Prompted him to this deed, which even now +Myself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast; +That, for this wrong to do thee some amends, +In the upper world (for thither to return +Is granted him) thy fame he may revive.” + +“That pleasant word of thine,” the trunk replied +“Hath so inveigled me, that I from speech +Cannot refrain, wherein if I indulge +A little longer, in the snare detain’d, +Count it not grievous. I it was, who held +Both keys to Frederick’s heart, and turn’d the wards, +Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet, +That besides me, into his inmost breast +Scarce any other could admittance find. +The faith I bore to my high charge was such, +It cost me the life-blood that warm’d my veins. +The harlot, who ne’er turn’d her gloating eyes +From Caesar’s household, common vice and pest +Of courts, ’gainst me inflam’d the minds of all; +And to Augustus they so spread the flame, +That my glad honours chang’d to bitter woes. +My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought +Refuge in death from scorn, and I became, +Just as I was, unjust toward myself. +By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear, +That never faith I broke to my liege lord, +Who merited such honour; and of you, +If any to the world indeed return, +Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies +Yet prostrate under envy’s cruel blow.” + +First somewhat pausing, till the mournful words +Were ended, then to me the bard began: +“Lose not the time; but speak and of him ask, +If more thou wish to learn.” Whence I replied: +“Question thou him again of whatsoe’er +Will, as thou think’st, content me; for no power +Have I to ask, such pity’ is at my heart.” + +He thus resum’d; “So may he do for thee +Freely what thou entreatest, as thou yet +Be pleas’d, imprison’d Spirit! to declare, +How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied; +And whether any ever from such frame +Be loosen’d, if thou canst, that also tell.” + +Thereat the trunk breath’d hard, and the wind soon +Chang’d into sounds articulate like these; + +“Briefly ye shall be answer’d. When departs +The fierce soul from the body, by itself +Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf +By Minos doom’d, into the wood it falls, +No place assign’d, but wheresoever chance +Hurls it, there sprouting, as a grain of spelt, +It rises to a sapling, growing thence +A savage plant. The Harpies, on its leaves +Then feeding, cause both pain and for the pain +A vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall come +For our own spoils, yet not so that with them +We may again be clad; for what a man +Takes from himself it is not just he have. +Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughout +The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung, +Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade.” + +Attentive yet to listen to the trunk +We stood, expecting farther speech, when us +A noise surpris’d, as when a man perceives +The wild boar and the hunt approach his place +Of station’d watch, who of the beasts and boughs +Loud rustling round him hears. And lo! there came +Two naked, torn with briers, in headlong flight, +That they before them broke each fan o’ th’ wood. +“Haste now,” the foremost cried, “now haste thee death!” + +The’ other, as seem’d, impatient of delay +Exclaiming, “Lano! not so bent for speed +Thy sinews, in the lists of Toppo’s field.” +And then, for that perchance no longer breath +Suffic’d him, of himself and of a bush +One group he made. Behind them was the wood +Full of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet, +As greyhounds that have newly slipp’d the leash. +On him, who squatted down, they stuck their fangs, +And having rent him piecemeal bore away +The tortur’d limbs. My guide then seiz’d my hand, +And led me to the thicket, which in vain +Mourn’d through its bleeding wounds: “O Giacomo +Of Sant’ Andrea! what avails it thee,” +It cried, “that of me thou hast made thy screen? +For thy ill life what blame on me recoils?” + +When o’er it he had paus’d, my master spake: +“Say who wast thou, that at so many points +Breath’st out with blood thy lamentable speech?” + +He answer’d: “Oh, ye spirits: arriv’d in time +To spy the shameful havoc, that from me +My leaves hath sever’d thus, gather them up, +And at the foot of their sad parent-tree +Carefully lay them. In that city’ I dwelt, +Who for the Baptist her first patron chang’d, +Whence he for this shall cease not with his art +To work her woe: and if there still remain’d not +On Arno’s passage some faint glimpse of him, +Those citizens, who rear’d once more her walls +Upon the ashes left by Attila, +Had labour’d without profit of their toil. +I slung the fatal noose from my own roof.” + + + + +CANTO XIV + + +Soon as the charity of native land +Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter’d leaves +Collected, and to him restor’d, who now +Was hoarse with utt’rance. To the limit thence +We came, which from the third the second round +Divides, and where of justice is display’d +Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen +Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next +A plain we reach’d, that from its sterile bed +Each plant repell’d. The mournful wood waves round +Its garland on all sides, as round the wood +Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, +Our steps we stay’d. It was an area wide +Of arid sand and thick, resembling most +The soil that erst by Cato’s foot was trod. + +Vengeance of Heav’n! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear’d +By all, who read what here my eyes beheld! + +Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, +All weeping piteously, to different laws +Subjected: for on the’ earth some lay supine, +Some crouching close were seated, others pac’d +Incessantly around; the latter tribe, +More numerous, those fewer who beneath +The torment lay, but louder in their grief. + +O’er all the sand fell slowly wafting down +Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow +On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush’d. +As in the torrid Indian clime, the son +Of Ammon saw upon his warrior band +Descending, solid flames, that to the ground +Came down: whence he bethought him with his troop +To trample on the soil; for easier thus +The vapour was extinguish’d, while alone; +So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith +The marble glow’d underneath, as under stove +The viands, doubly to augment the pain. + +Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, +Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off +The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began: +“Instructor! thou who all things overcom’st, +Except the hardy demons, that rush’d forth +To stop our entrance at the gate, say who +Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not +The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, +As by the sultry tempest immatur’d?” + +Straight he himself, who was aware I ask’d +My guide of him, exclaim’d: “Such as I was +When living, dead such now I am. If Jove +Weary his workman out, from whom in ire +He snatch’d the lightnings, that at my last day +Transfix’d me, if the rest be weary out +At their black smithy labouring by turns +In Mongibello, while he cries aloud; +“Help, help, good Mulciber!” as erst he cried +In the Phlegraean warfare, and the bolts +Launch he full aim’d at me with all his might, +He never should enjoy a sweet revenge.” + +Then thus my guide, in accent higher rais’d +Than I before had heard him: “Capaneus! +Thou art more punish’d, in that this thy pride +Lives yet unquench’d: no torrent, save thy rage, +Were to thy fury pain proportion’d full.” + +Next turning round to me with milder lip +He spake: “This of the seven kings was one, +Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held, +As still he seems to hold, God in disdain, +And sets his high omnipotence at nought. +But, as I told him, his despiteful mood +Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it. +Follow me now; and look thou set not yet +Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood +Keep ever close.” Silently on we pass’d +To where there gushes from the forest’s bound +A little brook, whose crimson’d wave yet lifts +My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs +From Bulicame, to be portion’d out +Among the sinful women; so ran this +Down through the sand, its bottom and each bank +Stone-built, and either margin at its side, +Whereon I straight perceiv’d our passage lay. + +“Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate +We enter’d first, whose threshold is to none +Denied, nought else so worthy of regard, +As is this river, has thine eye discern’d, +O’er which the flaming volley all is quench’d.” + +So spake my guide; and I him thence besought, +That having giv’n me appetite to know, +The food he too would give, that hunger crav’d. + +“In midst of ocean,” forthwith he began, +“A desolate country lies, which Crete is nam’d, +Under whose monarch in old times the world +Liv’d pure and chaste. A mountain rises there, +Call’d Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams, +Deserted now like a forbidden thing. +It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn’s spouse, +Chose for the secret cradle of her son; +And better to conceal him, drown’d in shouts +His infant cries. Within the mount, upright +An ancient form there stands and huge, that turns +His shoulders towards Damiata, and at Rome +As in his mirror looks. Of finest gold +His head is shap’d, pure silver are the breast +And arms; thence to the middle is of brass. +And downward all beneath well-temper’d steel, +Save the right foot of potter’s clay, on which +Than on the other more erect he stands, +Each part except the gold, is rent throughout; +And from the fissure tears distil, which join’d +Penetrate to that cave. They in their course +Thus far precipitated down the rock +Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon; +Then by this straiten’d channel passing hence +Beneath, e’en to the lowest depth of all, +Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself +Shall see it) I here give thee no account.” + +Then I to him: “If from our world this sluice +Be thus deriv’d; wherefore to us but now +Appears it at this edge?” He straight replied: +“The place, thou know’st, is round; and though great part +Thou have already pass’d, still to the left +Descending to the nethermost, not yet +Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb. +Wherefore if aught of new to us appear, +It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks.” + +Then I again inquir’d: “Where flow the streams +Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one +Thou tell’st not, and the other of that shower, +Thou say’st, is form’d.” He answer thus return’d: +“Doubtless thy questions all well pleas’d I hear. +Yet the red seething wave might have resolv’d +One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see, +But not within this hollow, in the place, +Whither to lave themselves the spirits go, +Whose blame hath been by penitence remov’d.” +He added: “Time is now we quit the wood. +Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give +Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames; +For over them all vapour is extinct.” + + + + +CANTO XV + + +One of the solid margins bears us now +Envelop’d in the mist, that from the stream +Arising, hovers o’er, and saves from fire +Both piers and water. As the Flemings rear +Their mound, ’twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back +The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide +That drives toward them, or the Paduans theirs +Along the Brenta, to defend their towns +And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt +On Chiarentana’s top; such were the mounds, +So fram’d, though not in height or bulk to these +Made equal, by the master, whosoe’er +He was, that rais’d them here. We from the wood +Were not so far remov’d, that turning round +I might not have discern’d it, when we met +A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier. + +They each one ey’d us, as at eventide +One eyes another under a new moon, +And toward us sharpen’d their sight as keen, +As an old tailor at his needle’s eye. + +Thus narrowly explor’d by all the tribe, +I was agniz’d of one, who by the skirt +Caught me, and cried, “What wonder have we here!” + +And I, when he to me outstretch’d his arm, +Intently fix’d my ken on his parch’d looks, +That although smirch’d with fire, they hinder’d not +But I remember’d him; and towards his face +My hand inclining, answer’d: “Sir! Brunetto! + +“And art thou here?” He thus to me: “My son! +Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto +Latini but a little space with thee +Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed.” + +I thus to him replied: “Much as I can, +I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing, +That I here seat me with thee, I consent; +His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain’d.” + +“O son!” said he, “whoever of this throng +One instant stops, lies then a hundred years, +No fan to ventilate him, when the fire +Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close +Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin +My troop, who go mourning their endless doom.” + +I dar’d not from the path descend to tread +On equal ground with him, but held my head +Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise. + +“What chance or destiny,” thus he began, +“Ere the last day conducts thee here below? +And who is this, that shows to thee the way?” + +“There up aloft,” I answer’d, “in the life +Serene, I wander’d in a valley lost, +Before mine age had to its fullness reach’d. +But yester-morn I left it: then once more +Into that vale returning, him I met; +And by this path homeward he leads me back.” + +“If thou,” he answer’d, “follow but thy star, +Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven: +Unless in fairer days my judgment err’d. +And if my fate so early had not chanc’d, +Seeing the heav’ns thus bounteous to thee, I +Had gladly giv’n thee comfort in thy work. +But that ungrateful and malignant race, +Who in old times came down from Fesole, +Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint, +Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity. +Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour’d crabs +It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit. +Old fame reports them in the world for blind, +Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well: +Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee +Thy fortune hath such honour in reserve, +That thou by either party shalt be crav’d +With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far +From the goat’s tooth. The herd of Fesole +May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant, +If any such yet spring on their rank bed, +In which the holy seed revives, transmitted +From those true Romans, who still there remain’d, +When it was made the nest of so much ill.” + +“Were all my wish fulfill’d,” I straight replied, +“Thou from the confines of man’s nature yet +Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind +Is fix’d, and now strikes full upon my heart +The dear, benign, paternal image, such +As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me +The way for man to win eternity; +And how I priz’d the lesson, it behooves, +That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak, +What of my fate thou tell’st, that write I down: +And with another text to comment on +For her I keep it, the celestial dame, +Who will know all, if I to her arrive. +This only would I have thee clearly note: +That so my conscience have no plea against me; +Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar’d. +Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear. +Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best, +The clown his mattock; all things have their course.” + +Thereat my sapient guide upon his right +Turn’d himself back, then look’d at me and spake: +“He listens to good purpose who takes note.” + +I not the less still on my way proceed, +Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire +Who are most known and chief among his tribe. + +“To know of some is well;” thus he replied, +“But of the rest silence may best beseem. +Time would not serve us for report so long. +In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks, +Men of great learning and no less renown, +By one same sin polluted in the world. +With them is Priscian, and Accorso’s son +Francesco herds among that wretched throng: +And, if the wish of so impure a blotch +Possess’d thee, him thou also might’st have seen, +Who by the servants’ servant was transferr’d +From Arno’s seat to Bacchiglione, where +His ill-strain’d nerves he left. I more would add, +But must from farther speech and onward way +Alike desist, for yonder I behold +A mist new-risen on the sandy plain. +A company, with whom I may not sort, +Approaches. I commend my TREASURE to thee, +Wherein I yet survive; my sole request.” + +This said he turn’d, and seem’d as one of those, +Who o’er Verona’s champain try their speed +For the green mantle, and of them he seem’d, +Not he who loses but who gains the prize. + + + + +CANTO XVI + + +Now came I where the water’s din was heard, +As down it fell into the other round, +Resounding like the hum of swarming bees: +When forth together issu’d from a troop, +That pass’d beneath the fierce tormenting storm, +Three spirits, running swift. They towards us came, +And each one cried aloud, “Oh do thou stay! +Whom by the fashion of thy garb we deem +To be some inmate of our evil land.” + +Ah me! what wounds I mark’d upon their limbs, +Recent and old, inflicted by the flames! +E’en the remembrance of them grieves me yet. + +Attentive to their cry my teacher paus’d, +And turn’d to me his visage, and then spake; +“Wait now! our courtesy these merit well: +And were ’t not for the nature of the place, +Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said, +That haste had better suited thee than them.” + +They, when we stopp’d, resum’d their ancient wail, +And soon as they had reach’d us, all the three +Whirl’d round together in one restless wheel. +As naked champions, smear’d with slippery oil, +Are wont intent to watch their place of hold +And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet; +Thus each one, as he wheel’d, his countenance +At me directed, so that opposite +The neck mov’d ever to the twinkling feet. + +“If misery of this drear wilderness,” +Thus one began, “added to our sad cheer +And destitute, do call forth scorn on us +And our entreaties, let our great renown +Incline thee to inform us who thou art, +That dost imprint with living feet unharm’d +The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see’st +My steps pursuing, naked though he be +And reft of all, was of more high estate +Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste +Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call’d, +Who in his lifetime many a noble act +Achiev’d, both by his wisdom and his sword. +The other, next to me that beats the sand, +Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well, +In the’ upper world, of honour; and myself +Who in this torment do partake with them, +Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife +Of savage temper, more than aught beside +Hath to this evil brought.” If from the fire +I had been shelter’d, down amidst them straight +I then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem, +Would have restrain’d my going; but that fear +Of the dire burning vanquish’d the desire, +Which made me eager of their wish’d embrace. + +I then began: “Not scorn, but grief much more, +Such as long time alone can cure, your doom +Fix’d deep within me, soon as this my lord +Spake words, whose tenour taught me to expect +That such a race, as ye are, was at hand. +I am a countryman of yours, who still +Affectionate have utter’d, and have heard +Your deeds and names renown’d. Leaving the gall +For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide +Hath promis’d to me. But behooves, that far +As to the centre first I downward tend.” + +“So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,” +He answer straight return’d; “and so thy fame +Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell, +If courtesy and valour, as they wont, +Dwell in our city, or have vanish’d clean? +For one amidst us late condemn’d to wail, +Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers, +Grieves us no little by the news he brings.” + +“An upstart multitude and sudden gains, +Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee +Engender’d, so that now in tears thou mourn’st!” +Thus cried I with my face uprais’d, and they +All three, who for an answer took my words, +Look’d at each other, as men look when truth +Comes to their ear. “If thou at other times,” +They all at once rejoin’d, “so easily +Satisfy those, who question, happy thou, +Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought! +Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime, +Returning to behold the radiant stars, +When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, +See that of us thou speak among mankind.” + +This said, they broke the circle, and so swift +Fled, that as pinions seem’d their nimble feet. + +Not in so short a time might one have said +“Amen,” as they had vanish’d. Straight my guide +Pursu’d his track. I follow’d; and small space +Had we pass’d onward, when the water’s sound +Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce +Heard one another’s speech for the loud din. + +E’en as the river, that holds on its course +Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo, +On the left side of Apennine, toward +The east, which Acquacheta higher up +They call, ere it descend into the vale, +At Forli by that name no longer known, +Rebellows o’er Saint Benedict, roll’d on +From the’ Alpine summit down a precipice, +Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads; +Thus downward from a craggy steep we found, +That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud, +So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn’d. + +I had a cord that brac’d my girdle round, +Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take +The painted leopard. This when I had all +Unloosen’d from me (so my master bade) +I gather’d up, and stretch’d it forth to him. +Then to the right he turn’d, and from the brink +Standing few paces distant, cast it down +Into the deep abyss. “And somewhat strange,” +Thus to myself I spake, “signal so strange +Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye +Thus follows.” Ah! what caution must men use +With those who look not at the deed alone, +But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill! + +“Quickly shall come,” he said, “what I expect, +Thine eye discover quickly, that whereof +Thy thought is dreaming.” Ever to that truth, +Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears, +A man, if possible, should bar his lip; +Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach. +But silence here were vain; and by these notes +Which now I sing, reader! I swear to thee, +So may they favour find to latest times! +That through the gross and murky air I spied +A shape come swimming up, that might have quell’d +The stoutest heart with wonder, in such guise +As one returns, who hath been down to loose +An anchor grappled fast against some rock, +Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies, +Who upward springing close draws in his feet. + + + + +CANTO XVII + + +“Lo! the fell monster with the deadly sting! +Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls +And firm embattled spears, and with his filth +Taints all the world!” Thus me my guide address’d, +And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore, +Near to the stony causeway’s utmost edge. + +Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear’d, +His head and upper part expos’d on land, +But laid not on the shore his bestial train. +His face the semblance of a just man’s wore, +So kind and gracious was its outward cheer; +The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws +Reach’d to the armpits, and the back and breast, +And either side, were painted o’er with nodes +And orbits. Colours variegated more +Nor Turks nor Tartars e’er on cloth of state +With interchangeable embroidery wove, +Nor spread Arachne o’er her curious loom. +As ofttimes a light skiff, moor’d to the shore, +Stands part in water, part upon the land; +Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor, +The beaver settles watching for his prey; +So on the rim, that fenc’d the sand with rock, +Sat perch’d the fiend of evil. In the void +Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork, +With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. Then thus my guide: +“Now need our way must turn few steps apart, +Far as to that ill beast, who couches there.” + +Thereat toward the right our downward course +We shap’d, and, better to escape the flame +And burning marle, ten paces on the verge +Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive, +A little further on mine eye beholds +A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand +Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake: +“That to the full thy knowledge may extend +Of all this round contains, go now, and mark +The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse. +Till thou returnest, I with him meantime +Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe +The aid of his strong shoulders.” Thus alone +Yet forward on the’ extremity I pac’d +Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe +Were seated. At the eyes forth gush’d their pangs. +Against the vapours and the torrid soil +Alternately their shifting hands they plied. +Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply +Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore +By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round. + +Noting the visages of some, who lay +Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, +One of them all I knew not; but perceiv’d, +That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch +With colours and with emblems various mark’d, +On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed. + +And when amongst them looking round I came, +A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought, +That wore a lion’s countenance and port. +Then still my sight pursuing its career, +Another I beheld, than blood more red. +A goose display of whiter wing than curd. +And one, who bore a fat and azure swine +Pictur’d on his white scrip, addressed me thus: +“What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know, +Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here +Vitaliano on my left shall sit. +A Paduan with these Florentines am I. +Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming +‘O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch +With the three beaks will bring!’” This said, he writh’d +The mouth, and loll’d the tongue out, like an ox +That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay +He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, +Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn’d. + +My guide already seated on the haunch +Of the fierce animal I found; and thus +He me encourag’d. “Be thou stout; be bold. +Down such a steep flight must we now descend! +Mount thou before: for that no power the tail +May have to harm thee, I will be i’ th’ midst.” + +As one, who hath an ague fit so near, +His nails already are turn’d blue, and he +Quivers all o’er, if he but eye the shade; +Such was my cheer at hearing of his words. +But shame soon interpos’d her threat, who makes +The servant bold in presence of his lord. + +I settled me upon those shoulders huge, +And would have said, but that the words to aid +My purpose came not, “Look thou clasp me firm!” + +But he whose succour then not first I prov’d, +Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, +Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake: +“Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres +Of ample circuit, easy thy descent. +Think on th’ unusual burden thou sustain’st.” + +As a small vessel, back’ning out from land, +Her station quits; so thence the monster loos’d, +And when he felt himself at large, turn’d round +There where the breast had been, his forked tail. +Thus, like an eel, outstretch’d at length he steer’d, +Gath’ring the air up with retractile claws. + +Not greater was the dread when Phaeton +The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, +Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; +Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceiv’d, +By liquefaction of the scalded wax, +The trusted pennons loosen’d from his loins, +His sire exclaiming loud, “Ill way thou keep’st!” +Than was my dread, when round me on each part +The air I view’d, and other object none +Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels +His downward motion, unobserv’d of me, +But that the wind, arising to my face, +Breathes on me from below. Now on our right +I heard the cataract beneath us leap +With hideous crash; whence bending down to’ explore, +New terror I conceiv’d at the steep plunge: + +For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: +So that all trembling close I crouch’d my limbs, +And then distinguish’d, unperceiv’d before, +By the dread torments that on every side +Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound. + +As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, +But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair +The falconer cries, “Ah me! thou stoop’st to earth!” +Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky +In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits +At distance from his lord in angry mood; +So Geryon lighting places us on foot +Low down at base of the deep-furrow’d rock, +And, of his burden there discharg’d, forthwith +Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string. + + + + +CANTO XVIII + + +There is a place within the depths of hell +Call’d Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain’d +With hue ferruginous, e’en as the steep +That round it circling winds. Right in the midst +Of that abominable region, yawns +A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame +Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains, +Throughout its round, between the gulf and base +Of the high craggy banks, successive forms +Ten trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk. + +As where to guard the walls, full many a foss +Begirds some stately castle, sure defence +Affording to the space within, so here +Were model’d these; and as like fortresses +E’en from their threshold to the brink without, +Are flank’d with bridges; from the rock’s low base +Thus flinty paths advanc’d, that ’cross the moles +And dikes, struck onward far as to the gulf, +That in one bound collected cuts them off. +Such was the place, wherein we found ourselves +From Geryon’s back dislodg’d. The bard to left +Held on his way, and I behind him mov’d. + +On our right hand new misery I saw, +New pains, new executioners of wrath, +That swarming peopled the first chasm. Below +Were naked sinners. Hitherward they came, +Meeting our faces from the middle point, +With us beyond but with a larger stride. +E’en thus the Romans, when the year returns +Of Jubilee, with better speed to rid +The thronging multitudes, their means devise +For such as pass the bridge; that on one side +All front toward the castle, and approach +Saint Peter’s fane, on th’ other towards the mount. + +Each divers way along the grisly rock, +Horn’d demons I beheld, with lashes huge, +That on their back unmercifully smote. +Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripe! + +None for the second waited nor the third. + +Meantime as on I pass’d, one met my sight +Whom soon as view’d; “Of him,” cried I, “not yet +Mine eye hath had his fill.” With fixed gaze +I therefore scann’d him. Straight the teacher kind +Paus’d with me, and consented I should walk +Backward a space, and the tormented spirit, +Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down. +But it avail’d him nought; for I exclaim’d: +“Thou who dost cast thy eye upon the ground, +Unless thy features do belie thee much, +Venedico art thou. But what brings thee +Into this bitter seas’ning?” He replied: +“Unwillingly I answer to thy words. +But thy clear speech, that to my mind recalls +The world I once inhabited, constrains me. +Know then ’twas I who led fair Ghisola +To do the Marquis’ will, however fame +The shameful tale have bruited. Nor alone +Bologna hither sendeth me to mourn +Rather with us the place is so o’erthrong’d +That not so many tongues this day are taught, +Betwixt the Reno and Savena’s stream, +To answer SIPA in their country’s phrase. +And if of that securer proof thou need, +Remember but our craving thirst for gold.” + +Him speaking thus, a demon with his thong +Struck, and exclaim’d, “Away! corrupter! here +Women are none for sale.” Forthwith I join’d +My escort, and few paces thence we came +To where a rock forth issued from the bank. +That easily ascended, to the right +Upon its splinter turning, we depart +From those eternal barriers. When arriv’d, +Where underneath the gaping arch lets pass +The scourged souls: “Pause here,” the teacher said, +“And let these others miserable, now +Strike on thy ken, faces not yet beheld, +For that together they with us have walk’d.” + +From the old bridge we ey’d the pack, who came +From th’ other side towards us, like the rest, +Excoriate from the lash. My gentle guide, +By me unquestion’d, thus his speech resum’d: +“Behold that lofty shade, who this way tends, +And seems too woe-begone to drop a tear. +How yet the regal aspect he retains! +Jason is he, whose skill and prowess won +The ram from Colchos. To the Lemnian isle +His passage thither led him, when those bold +And pitiless women had slain all their males. +There he with tokens and fair witching words +Hypsipyle beguil’d, a virgin young, +Who first had all the rest herself beguil’d. +Impregnated he left her there forlorn. +Such is the guilt condemns him to this pain. +Here too Medea’s inj’ries are avenged. +All bear him company, who like deceit +To his have practis’d. And thus much to know +Of the first vale suffice thee, and of those +Whom its keen torments urge.” Now had we come +Where, crossing the next pier, the straighten’d path +Bestrides its shoulders to another arch. + +Hence in the second chasm we heard the ghosts, +Who jibber in low melancholy sounds, +With wide-stretch’d nostrils snort, and on themselves +Smite with their palms. Upon the banks a scurf +From the foul steam condens’d, encrusting hung, +That held sharp combat with the sight and smell. + +So hollow is the depth, that from no part, +Save on the summit of the rocky span, +Could I distinguish aught. Thus far we came; +And thence I saw, within the foss below, +A crowd immers’d in ordure, that appear’d +Draff of the human body. There beneath +Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark’d +One with his head so grim’d, ’t were hard to deem, +If he were clerk or layman. Loud he cried: +“Why greedily thus bendest more on me, +Than on these other filthy ones, thy ken?” + +“Because if true my mem’ry,” I replied, +“I heretofore have seen thee with dry locks, +And thou Alessio art of Lucca sprung. +Therefore than all the rest I scan thee more.” + +Then beating on his brain these words he spake: +“Me thus low down my flatteries have sunk, +Wherewith I ne’er enough could glut my tongue.” + +My leader thus: “A little further stretch +Thy face, that thou the visage well mayst note +Of that besotted, sluttish courtezan, +Who there doth rend her with defiled nails, +Now crouching down, now risen on her feet. + +“Thais is this, the harlot, whose false lip +Answer’d her doting paramour that ask’d, +‘Thankest me much!’—‘Say rather wondrously,’ +And seeing this here satiate be our view.” + + + + +CANTO XIX + + +Woe to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you, +His wretched followers! who the things of God, +Which should be wedded unto goodness, them, +Rapacious as ye are, do prostitute +For gold and silver in adultery! +Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yours +Is the third chasm. Upon the following vault +We now had mounted, where the rock impends +Directly o’er the centre of the foss. + +Wisdom Supreme! how wonderful the art, +Which thou dost manifest in heaven, in earth, +And in the evil world, how just a meed +Allotting by thy virtue unto all! + +I saw the livid stone, throughout the sides +And in its bottom full of apertures, +All equal in their width, and circular each, +Nor ample less nor larger they appear’d +Than in Saint John’s fair dome of me belov’d +Those fram’d to hold the pure baptismal streams, +One of the which I brake, some few years past, +To save a whelming infant; and be this +A seal to undeceive whoever doubts +The motive of my deed. From out the mouth +Of every one, emerg’d a sinner’s feet +And of the legs high upward as the calf +The rest beneath was hid. On either foot +The soles were burning, whence the flexile joints +Glanc’d with such violent motion, as had snapt +Asunder cords or twisted withs. As flame, +Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along +The surface, scarcely touching where it moves; +So here, from heel to point, glided the flames. + +“Master! say who is he, than all the rest +Glancing in fiercer agony, on whom +A ruddier flame doth prey?” I thus inquir’d. + +“If thou be willing,” he replied, “that I +Carry thee down, where least the slope bank falls, +He of himself shall tell thee and his wrongs.” + +I then: “As pleases thee to me is best. +Thou art my lord; and know’st that ne’er I quit +Thy will: what silence hides that knowest thou.” +Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn’d, +And on our left descended to the depth, +A narrow strait and perforated close. +Nor from his side my leader set me down, +Till to his orifice he brought, whose limb +Quiv’ring express’d his pang. “Whoe’er thou art, +Sad spirit! thus revers’d, and as a stake +Driv’n in the soil!” I in these words began, +“If thou be able, utter forth thy voice.” + +There stood I like the friar, that doth shrive +A wretch for murder doom’d, who e’en when fix’d, +Calleth him back, whence death awhile delays. + +He shouted: “Ha! already standest there? +Already standest there, O Boniface! +By many a year the writing play’d me false. +So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth, +For which thou fearedst not in guile to take +The lovely lady, and then mangle her?” + +I felt as those who, piercing not the drift +Of answer made them, stand as if expos’d +In mockery, nor know what to reply, +When Virgil thus admonish’d: “Tell him quick, +I am not he, not he, whom thou believ’st.” + +And I, as was enjoin’d me, straight replied. + +That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet, +And sighing next in woeful accent spake: +“What then of me requirest? If to know +So much imports thee, who I am, that thou +Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn +That in the mighty mantle I was rob’d, +And of a she-bear was indeed the son, +So eager to advance my whelps, that there +My having in my purse above I stow’d, +And here myself. Under my head are dragg’d +The rest, my predecessors in the guilt +Of simony. Stretch’d at their length they lie +Along an opening in the rock. ’Midst them +I also low shall fall, soon as he comes, +For whom I took thee, when so hastily +I question’d. But already longer time +Hath pass’d, since my souls kindled, and I thus +Upturn’d have stood, than is his doom to stand +Planted with fiery feet. For after him, +One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive, +From forth the west, a shepherd without law, +Fated to cover both his form and mine. +He a new Jason shall be call’d, of whom +In Maccabees we read; and favour such +As to that priest his king indulgent show’d, +Shall be of France’s monarch shown to him.” + +I know not if I here too far presum’d, +But in this strain I answer’d: “Tell me now, +What treasures from St. Peter at the first +Our Lord demanded, when he put the keys +Into his charge? Surely he ask’d no more +But, Follow me! Nor Peter nor the rest +Or gold or silver of Matthias took, +When lots were cast upon the forfeit place +Of the condemned soul. Abide thou then; +Thy punishment of right is merited: +And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin, +Which against Charles thy hardihood inspir’d. +If reverence of the keys restrain’d me not, +Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet +Severer speech might use. Your avarice +O’ercasts the world with mourning, under foot +Treading the good, and raising bad men up. +Of shepherds, like to you, th’ Evangelist +Was ware, when her, who sits upon the waves, +With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld, +She who with seven heads tower’d at her birth, +And from ten horns her proof of glory drew, +Long as her spouse in virtue took delight. +Of gold and silver ye have made your god, +Diff’ring wherein from the idolater, +But he that worships one, a hundred ye? +Ah, Constantine! to how much ill gave birth, +Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower, +Which the first wealthy Father gain’d from thee!” + +Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrath +Or conscience smote him, violent upsprang +Spinning on either sole. I do believe +My teacher well was pleas’d, with so compos’d +A lip, he listen’d ever to the sound +Of the true words I utter’d. In both arms +He caught, and to his bosom lifting me +Upward retrac’d the way of his descent. + +Nor weary of his weight he press’d me close, +Till to the summit of the rock we came, +Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier. +His cherish’d burden there gently he plac’d +Upon the rugged rock and steep, a path +Not easy for the clamb’ring goat to mount. + +Thence to my view another vale appear’d + + + + +CANTO XX + + +And now the verse proceeds to torments new, +Fit argument of this the twentieth strain +Of the first song, whose awful theme records +The spirits whelm’d in woe. Earnest I look’d +Into the depth, that open’d to my view, +Moisten’d with tears of anguish, and beheld +A tribe, that came along the hollow vale, +In silence weeping: such their step as walk +Quires chanting solemn litanies on earth. + +As on them more direct mine eye descends, +Each wondrously seem’d to be revers’d +At the neck-bone, so that the countenance +Was from the reins averted: and because +None might before him look, they were compell’d +To’ advance with backward gait. Thus one perhaps +Hath been by force of palsy clean transpos’d, +But I ne’er saw it nor believe it so. + +Now, reader! think within thyself, so God +Fruit of thy reading give thee! how I long +Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld +Near me our form distorted in such guise, +That on the hinder parts fall’n from the face +The tears down-streaming roll’d. Against a rock +I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim’d: +“What, and art thou too witless as the rest? +Here pity most doth show herself alive, +When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his, +Who with Heaven’s judgment in his passion strives? +Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the man, +Before whose eyes earth gap’d in Thebes, when all +Cried out, ‘Amphiaraus, whither rushest? +‘Why leavest thou the war?’ He not the less +Fell ruining far as to Minos down, +Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makes +The breast his shoulders, and who once too far +Before him wish’d to see, now backward looks, +And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note, +Who semblance chang’d, when woman he became +Of male, through every limb transform’d, and then +Once more behov’d him with his rod to strike +The two entwining serpents, ere the plumes, +That mark’d the better sex, might shoot again. + +“Aruns, with more his belly facing, comes. +On Luni’s mountains ’midst the marbles white, +Where delves Carrara’s hind, who wons beneath, +A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars +And main-sea wide in boundless view he held. + +“The next, whose loosen’d tresses overspread +Her bosom, which thou seest not (for each hair +On that side grows) was Manto, she who search’d +Through many regions, and at length her seat +Fix’d in my native land, whence a short space +My words detain thy audience. When her sire +From life departed, and in servitude +The city dedicate to Bacchus mourn’d, +Long time she went a wand’rer through the world. +Aloft in Italy’s delightful land +A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp, +That o’er the Tyrol locks Germania in, +Its name Benacus, which a thousand rills, +Methinks, and more, water between the vale +Camonica and Garda and the height +Of Apennine remote. There is a spot +At midway of that lake, where he who bears +Of Trento’s flock the past’ral staff, with him +Of Brescia, and the Veronese, might each +Passing that way his benediction give. +A garrison of goodly site and strong +Peschiera stands, to awe with front oppos’d +The Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shore +More slope each way descends. There, whatsoev’er +Benacus’ bosom holds not, tumbling o’er +Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath +Through the green pastures. Soon as in his course +The steam makes head, Benacus then no more +They call the name, but Mincius, till at last +Reaching Governo into Po he falls. +Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat +It finds, which overstretchmg as a marsh +It covers, pestilent in summer oft. +Hence journeying, the savage maiden saw +’Midst of the fen a territory waste +And naked of inhabitants. To shun +All human converse, here she with her slaves +Plying her arts remain’d, and liv’d, and left +Her body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes, +Who round were scatter’d, gath’ring to that place +Assembled; for its strength was great, enclos’d +On all parts by the fen. On those dead bones +They rear’d themselves a city, for her sake, +Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot, +Nor ask’d another omen for the name, +Wherein more numerous the people dwelt, +Ere Casalodi’s madness by deceit +Was wrong’d of Pinamonte. If thou hear +Henceforth another origin assign’d +Of that my country, I forewarn thee now, +That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth.” + +I answer’d: “Teacher, I conclude thy words +So certain, that all else shall be to me +As embers lacking life. But now of these, +Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see +Any that merit more especial note. +For thereon is my mind alone intent.” + +He straight replied: “That spirit, from whose cheek +The beard sweeps o’er his shoulders brown, what time +Graecia was emptied of her males, that scarce +The cradles were supplied, the seer was he +In Aulis, who with Calchas gave the sign +When first to cut the cable. Him they nam’d +Eurypilus: so sings my tragic strain, +In which majestic measure well thou know’st, +Who know’st it all. That other, round the loins +So slender of his shape, was Michael Scot, +Practis’d in ev’ry slight of magic wile. + +“Guido Bonatti see: Asdente mark, +Who now were willing, he had tended still +The thread and cordwain; and too late repents. + +“See next the wretches, who the needle left, +The shuttle and the spindle, and became +Diviners: baneful witcheries they wrought +With images and herbs. But onward now: +For now doth Cain with fork of thorns confine +On either hemisphere, touching the wave +Beneath the towers of Seville. Yesternight +The moon was round. Thou mayst remember well: +For she good service did thee in the gloom +Of the deep wood.” This said, both onward mov’d. + + + + +CANTO XXI + + +Thus we from bridge to bridge, with other talk, +The which my drama cares not to rehearse, +Pass’d on; and to the summit reaching, stood +To view another gap, within the round +Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs. + +Marvelous darkness shadow’d o’er the place. + +In the Venetians’ arsenal as boils +Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear +Their unsound vessels; for th’ inclement time +Sea-faring men restrains, and in that while +His bark one builds anew, another stops +The ribs of his, that hath made many a voyage; +One hammers at the prow, one at the poop; +This shapeth oars, that other cables twirls, +The mizen one repairs and main-sail rent +So not by force of fire but art divine +Boil’d here a glutinous thick mass, that round +Lim’d all the shore beneath. I that beheld, +But therein nought distinguish’d, save the surge, +Rais’d by the boiling, in one mighty swell +Heave, and by turns subsiding and fall. While there +I fix’d my ken below, “Mark! mark!” my guide +Exclaiming, drew me towards him from the place, +Wherein I stood. I turn’d myself as one, +Impatient to behold that which beheld +He needs must shun, whom sudden fear unmans, +That he his flight delays not for the view. +Behind me I discern’d a devil black, +That running, up advanc’d along the rock. +Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake! +In act how bitter did he seem, with wings +Buoyant outstretch’d and feet of nimblest tread! +His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp +Was with a sinner charg’d; by either haunch +He held him, the foot’s sinew griping fast. + +“Ye of our bridge!” he cried, “keen-talon’d fiends! +Lo! one of Santa Zita’s elders! Him +Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more. +That land hath store of such. All men are there, +Except Bonturo, barterers: of ‘no’ +For lucre there an ‘aye’ is quickly made.” + +Him dashing down, o’er the rough rock he turn’d, +Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos’d +Sped with like eager haste. That other sank +And forthwith writing to the surface rose. +But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge, +Cried “Here the hallow’d visage saves not: here +Is other swimming than in Serchio’s wave. +Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not, +Take heed thou mount not o’er the pitch.” This said, +They grappled him with more than hundred hooks, +And shouted: “Cover’d thou must sport thee here; +So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch.” + +E’en thus the cook bestirs him, with his grooms, +To thrust the flesh into the caldron down +With flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top. + +Me then my guide bespake: “Lest they descry, +That thou art here, behind a craggy rock +Bend low and screen thee; and whate’er of force +Be offer’d me, or insult, fear thou not: +For I am well advis’d, who have been erst +In the like fray.” Beyond the bridge’s head +Therewith he pass’d, and reaching the sixth pier, +Behov’d him then a forehead terror-proof. + +With storm and fury, as when dogs rush forth +Upon the poor man’s back, who suddenly +From whence he standeth makes his suit; so rush’d +Those from beneath the arch, and against him +Their weapons all they pointed. He aloud: +“Be none of you outrageous: ere your time +Dare seize me, come forth from amongst you one, + +“Who having heard my words, decide he then +If he shall tear these limbs.” They shouted loud, +“Go, Malacoda!” Whereat one advanc’d, +The others standing firm, and as he came, +“What may this turn avail him?” he exclaim’d. + +“Believ’st thou, Malacoda! I had come +Thus far from all your skirmishing secure,” +My teacher answered, “without will divine +And destiny propitious? Pass we then +For so Heaven’s pleasure is, that I should lead +Another through this savage wilderness.” + +Forthwith so fell his pride, that he let drop +The instrument of torture at his feet, +And to the rest exclaim’d: “We have no power +To strike him.” Then to me my guide: “O thou! +Who on the bridge among the crags dost sit +Low crouching, safely now to me return.” + +I rose, and towards him moved with speed: the fiends +Meantime all forward drew: me terror seiz’d +Lest they should break the compact they had made. +Thus issuing from Caprona, once I saw +Th’ infantry dreading, lest his covenant +The foe should break; so close he hemm’d them round. + +I to my leader’s side adher’d, mine eyes +With fixt and motionless observance bent +On their unkindly visage. They their hooks +Protruding, one the other thus bespake: +“Wilt thou I touch him on the hip?” To whom +Was answer’d: “Even so; nor miss thy aim.” + +But he, who was in conf’rence with my guide, +Turn’d rapid round, and thus the demon spake: +“Stay, stay thee, Scarmiglione!” Then to us +He added: “Further footing to your step +This rock affords not, shiver’d to the base +Of the sixth arch. But would you still proceed, +Up by this cavern go: not distant far, +Another rock will yield you passage safe. +Yesterday, later by five hours than now, +Twelve hundred threescore years and six had fill’d +The circuit of their course, since here the way +Was broken. Thitherward I straight dispatch +Certain of these my scouts, who shall espy +If any on the surface bask. With them +Go ye: for ye shall find them nothing fell. +Come Alichino forth,” with that he cried, +“And Calcabrina, and Cagnazzo thou! +The troop of ten let Barbariccia lead. +With Libicocco Draghinazzo haste, +Fang’d Ciriatto, Grafflacane fierce, +And Farfarello, and mad Rubicant. +Search ye around the bubbling tar. For these, +In safety lead them, where the other crag +Uninterrupted traverses the dens.” + +I then: “O master! what a sight is there! +Ah! without escort, journey we alone, +Which, if thou know the way, I covet not. +Unless thy prudence fail thee, dost not mark +How they do gnarl upon us, and their scowl +Threatens us present tortures?” He replied: +“I charge thee fear not: let them, as they will, +Gnarl on: ’t is but in token of their spite +Against the souls, who mourn in torment steep’d.” + +To leftward o’er the pier they turn’d; but each +Had first between his teeth prest close the tongue, +Toward their leader for a signal looking, +Which he with sound obscene triumphant gave. + + + + +CANTO XXII + + +It hath been heretofore my chance to see +Horsemen with martial order shifting camp, +To onset sallying, or in muster rang’d, +Or in retreat sometimes outstretch’d for flight; +Light-armed squadrons and fleet foragers +Scouring thy plains, Arezzo! have I seen, +And clashing tournaments, and tilting jousts, +Now with the sound of trumpets, now of bells, +Tabors, or signals made from castled heights, +And with inventions multiform, our own, +Or introduc’d from foreign land; but ne’er +To such a strange recorder I beheld, +In evolution moving, horse nor foot, +Nor ship, that tack’d by sign from land or star. + +With the ten demons on our way we went; +Ah fearful company! but in the church +With saints, with gluttons at the tavern’s mess. + +Still earnest on the pitch I gaz’d, to mark +All things whate’er the chasm contain’d, and those +Who burn’d within. As dolphins, that, in sign +To mariners, heave high their arched backs, +That thence forewarn’d they may advise to save +Their threaten’d vessels; so, at intervals, +To ease the pain his back some sinner show’d, +Then hid more nimbly than the lightning glance. + +E’en as the frogs, that of a wat’ry moat +Stand at the brink, with the jaws only out, +Their feet and of the trunk all else concealed, +Thus on each part the sinners stood, but soon +As Barbariccia was at hand, so they +Drew back under the wave. I saw, and yet +My heart doth stagger, one, that waited thus, +As it befalls that oft one frog remains, +While the next springs away: and Graffiacan, +Who of the fiends was nearest, grappling seiz’d +His clotted locks, and dragg’d him sprawling up, +That he appear’d to me an otter. Each +Already by their names I knew, so well +When they were chosen, I observ’d, and mark’d +How one the other call’d. “O Rubicant! +See that his hide thou with thy talons flay,” +Shouted together all the cursed crew. + +Then I: “Inform thee, master! if thou may, +What wretched soul is this, on whom their hand +His foes have laid.” My leader to his side +Approach’d, and whence he came inquir’d, to whom +Was answer’d thus: “Born in Navarre’s domain +My mother plac’d me in a lord’s retinue, +For she had borne me to a losel vile, +A spendthrift of his substance and himself. +The good king Thibault after that I serv’d, +To peculating here my thoughts were turn’d, +Whereof I give account in this dire heat.” + +Straight Ciriatto, from whose mouth a tusk +Issued on either side, as from a boar, +Ript him with one of these. ’Twixt evil claws +The mouse had fall’n: but Barbariccia cried, +Seizing him with both arms: “Stand thou apart, +While I do fix him on my prong transpierc’d.” +Then added, turning to my guide his face, +“Inquire of him, if more thou wish to learn, +Ere he again be rent.” My leader thus: +“Then tell us of the partners in thy guilt; +Knowest thou any sprung of Latian land +Under the tar?”—“I parted,” he replied, +“But now from one, who sojourn’d not far thence; +So were I under shelter now with him! +Nor hook nor talon then should scare me more.”—. + +“Too long we suffer,” Libicocco cried, +Then, darting forth a prong, seiz’d on his arm, +And mangled bore away the sinewy part. +Him Draghinazzo by his thighs beneath +Would next have caught, whence angrily their chief, +Turning on all sides round, with threat’ning brow +Restrain’d them. When their strife a little ceas’d, +Of him, who yet was gazing on his wound, +My teacher thus without delay inquir’d: +“Who was the spirit, from whom by evil hap +Parting, as thou has told, thou cam’st to shore?”— + +“It was the friar Gomita,” he rejoin’d, +“He of Gallura, vessel of all guile, +Who had his master’s enemies in hand, +And us’d them so that they commend him well. +Money he took, and them at large dismiss’d. +So he reports: and in each other charge +Committed to his keeping, play’d the part +Of barterer to the height: with him doth herd +The chief of Logodoro, Michel Zanche. +Sardinia is a theme, whereof their tongue +Is never weary. Out! alas! behold +That other, how he grins! More would I say, +But tremble lest he mean to maul me sore.” + +Their captain then to Farfarello turning, +Who roll’d his moony eyes in act to strike, +Rebuk’d him thus: “Off! cursed bird! Avaunt!”— + +“If ye desire to see or hear,” he thus +Quaking with dread resum’d, “or Tuscan spirits +Or Lombard, I will cause them to appear. +Meantime let these ill talons bate their fury, +So that no vengeance they may fear from them, +And I, remaining in this self-same place, +Will for myself but one, make sev’n appear, +When my shrill whistle shall be heard; for so +Our custom is to call each other up.” + +Cagnazzo at that word deriding grinn’d, +Then wagg’d the head and spake: “Hear his device, +Mischievous as he is, to plunge him down.” + +Whereto he thus, who fail’d not in rich store +Of nice-wove toils; “Mischief forsooth extreme, +Meant only to procure myself more woe!” + +No longer Alichino then refrain’d, +But thus, the rest gainsaying, him bespake: +“If thou do cast thee down, I not on foot +Will chase thee, but above the pitch will beat +My plumes. Quit we the vantage ground, and let +The bank be as a shield, that we may see +If singly thou prevail against us all.” + +Now, reader, of new sport expect to hear! + +They each one turn’d his eyes to the’ other shore, +He first, who was the hardest to persuade. +The spirit of Navarre chose well his time, +Planted his feet on land, and at one leap +Escaping disappointed their resolve. + +Them quick resentment stung, but him the most, +Who was the cause of failure; in pursuit +He therefore sped, exclaiming; “Thou art caught.” + +But little it avail’d: terror outstripp’d +His following flight: the other plung’d beneath, +And he with upward pinion rais’d his breast: +E’en thus the water-fowl, when she perceives +The falcon near, dives instant down, while he +Enrag’d and spent retires. That mockery +In Calcabrina fury stirr’d, who flew +After him, with desire of strife inflam’d; +And, for the barterer had ’scap’d, so turn’d +His talons on his comrade. O’er the dyke +In grapple close they join’d; but the’ other prov’d +A goshawk able to rend well his foe; + +And in the boiling lake both fell. The heat +Was umpire soon between them, but in vain +To lift themselves they strove, so fast were glued +Their pennons. Barbariccia, as the rest, +That chance lamenting, four in flight dispatch’d +From the’ other coast, with all their weapons arm’d. +They, to their post on each side speedily +Descending, stretch’d their hooks toward the fiends, +Who flounder’d, inly burning from their scars: +And we departing left them to that broil. + + + + +CANTO XXIII + + +In silence and in solitude we went, +One first, the other following his steps, +As minor friars journeying on their road. + +The present fray had turn’d my thoughts to muse +Upon old Aesop’s fable, where he told +What fate unto the mouse and frog befell. +For language hath not sounds more like in sense, +Than are these chances, if the origin +And end of each be heedfully compar’d. +And as one thought bursts from another forth, +So afterward from that another sprang, +Which added doubly to my former fear. +For thus I reason’d: “These through us have been +So foil’d, with loss and mock’ry so complete, +As needs must sting them sore. If anger then +Be to their evil will conjoin’d, more fell +They shall pursue us, than the savage hound +Snatches the leveret, panting ’twixt his jaws.” + +Already I perceiv’d my hair stand all +On end with terror, and look’d eager back. + +“Teacher,” I thus began, “if speedily +Thyself and me thou hide not, much I dread +Those evil talons. Even now behind +They urge us: quick imagination works +So forcibly, that I already feel them.” + +He answer’d: “Were I form’d of leaded glass, +I should not sooner draw unto myself +Thy outward image, than I now imprint +That from within. This moment came thy thoughts +Presented before mine, with similar act +And count’nance similar, so that from both +I one design have fram’d. If the right coast +Incline so much, that we may thence descend +Into the other chasm, we shall escape +Secure from this imagined pursuit.” + +He had not spoke his purpose to the end, +When I from far beheld them with spread wings +Approach to take us. Suddenly my guide +Caught me, ev’n as a mother that from sleep +Is by the noise arous’d, and near her sees +The climbing fires, who snatches up her babe +And flies ne’er pausing, careful more of him +Than of herself, that but a single vest +Clings round her limbs. Down from the jutting beach +Supine he cast him, to that pendent rock, +Which closes on one part the other chasm. + +Never ran water with such hurrying pace +Adown the tube to turn a landmill’s wheel, +When nearest it approaches to the spokes, +As then along that edge my master ran, +Carrying me in his bosom, as a child, +Not a companion. Scarcely had his feet +Reach’d to the lowest of the bed beneath, + +When over us the steep they reach’d; but fear +In him was none; for that high Providence, +Which plac’d them ministers of the fifth foss, +Power of departing thence took from them all. + +There in the depth we saw a painted tribe, +Who pac’d with tardy steps around, and wept, +Faint in appearance and o’ercome with toil. +Caps had they on, with hoods, that fell low down +Before their eyes, in fashion like to those +Worn by the monks in Cologne. Their outside +Was overlaid with gold, dazzling to view, +But leaden all within, and of such weight, +That Frederick’s compar’d to these were straw. +Oh, everlasting wearisome attire! + +We yet once more with them together turn’d +To leftward, on their dismal moan intent. +But by the weight oppress’d, so slowly came +The fainting people, that our company +Was chang’d at every movement of the step. + +Whence I my guide address’d: “See that thou find +Some spirit, whose name may by his deeds be known, +And to that end look round thee as thou go’st.” + +Then one, who understood the Tuscan voice, +Cried after us aloud: “Hold in your feet, +Ye who so swiftly speed through the dusk air. +Perchance from me thou shalt obtain thy wish.” + +Whereat my leader, turning, me bespake: +“Pause, and then onward at their pace proceed.” + +I staid, and saw two Spirits in whose look +Impatient eagerness of mind was mark’d +To overtake me; but the load they bare +And narrow path retarded their approach. + +Soon as arriv’d, they with an eye askance +Perus’d me, but spake not: then turning each +To other thus conferring said: “This one +Seems, by the action of his throat, alive. +And, be they dead, what privilege allows +They walk unmantled by the cumbrous stole?” + +Then thus to me: “Tuscan, who visitest +The college of the mourning hypocrites, +Disdain not to instruct us who thou art.” + +“By Arno’s pleasant stream,” I thus replied, +“In the great city I was bred and grew, +And wear the body I have ever worn. +but who are ye, from whom such mighty grief, +As now I witness, courseth down your cheeks? +What torment breaks forth in this bitter woe?” +“Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue,” +One of them answer’d, “are so leaden gross, +That with their weight they make the balances +To crack beneath them. Joyous friars we were, +Bologna’s natives, Catalano I, +He Loderingo nam’d, and by thy land +Together taken, as men used to take +A single and indifferent arbiter, +To reconcile their strifes. How there we sped, +Gardingo’s vicinage can best declare.” + +“O friars!” I began, “your miseries—” +But there brake off, for one had caught my eye, +Fix’d to a cross with three stakes on the ground: +He, when he saw me, writh’d himself, throughout +Distorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard. +And Catalano, who thereof was ’ware, + +Thus spake: “That pierced spirit, whom intent +Thou view’st, was he who gave the Pharisees +Counsel, that it were fitting for one man +To suffer for the people. He doth lie +Transverse; nor any passes, but him first +Behoves make feeling trial how each weighs. +In straits like this along the foss are plac’d +The father of his consort, and the rest +Partakers in that council, seed of ill +And sorrow to the Jews.” I noted then, +How Virgil gaz’d with wonder upon him, +Thus abjectly extended on the cross +In banishment eternal. To the friar +He next his words address’d: “We pray ye tell, +If so be lawful, whether on our right +Lies any opening in the rock, whereby +We both may issue hence, without constraint +On the dark angels, that compell’d they come +To lead us from this depth.” He thus replied: +“Nearer than thou dost hope, there is a rock +From the next circle moving, which o’ersteps +Each vale of horror, save that here his cope +Is shatter’d. By the ruin ye may mount: +For on the side it slants, and most the height +Rises below.” With head bent down awhile +My leader stood, then spake: “He warn’d us ill, +Who yonder hangs the sinners on his hook.” + +To whom the friar: At Bologna erst +“I many vices of the devil heard, +Among the rest was said, ‘He is a liar, +And the father of lies!’” When he had spoke, +My leader with large strides proceeded on, +Somewhat disturb’d with anger in his look. + +I therefore left the spirits heavy laden, +And following, his beloved footsteps mark’d. + + + + +CANTO XXIV + + +In the year’s early nonage, when the sun +Tempers his tresses in Aquarius’ urn, +And now towards equal day the nights recede, +When as the rime upon the earth puts on +Her dazzling sister’s image, but not long +Her milder sway endures, then riseth up +The village hind, whom fails his wintry store, +And looking out beholds the plain around +All whiten’d, whence impatiently he smites +His thighs, and to his hut returning in, +There paces to and fro, wailing his lot, +As a discomfited and helpless man; +Then comes he forth again, and feels new hope +Spring in his bosom, finding e’en thus soon +The world hath chang’d its count’nance, grasps his crook, +And forth to pasture drives his little flock: +So me my guide dishearten’d when I saw +His troubled forehead, and so speedily +That ill was cur’d; for at the fallen bridge +Arriving, towards me with a look as sweet, +He turn’d him back, as that I first beheld +At the steep mountain’s foot. Regarding well +The ruin, and some counsel first maintain’d +With his own thought, he open’d wide his arm +And took me up. As one, who, while he works, +Computes his labour’s issue, that he seems +Still to foresee the’ effect, so lifting me +Up to the summit of one peak, he fix’d +His eye upon another. “Grapple that,” +Said he, “but first make proof, if it be such +As will sustain thee.” For one capp’d with lead +This were no journey. Scarcely he, though light, +And I, though onward push’d from crag to crag, +Could mount. And if the precinct of this coast +Were not less ample than the last, for him +I know not, but my strength had surely fail’d. +But Malebolge all toward the mouth +Inclining of the nethermost abyss, +The site of every valley hence requires, +That one side upward slope, the other fall. + +At length the point of our descent we reach’d +From the last flag: soon as to that arriv’d, +So was the breath exhausted from my lungs, +I could no further, but did seat me there. + +“Now needs thy best of man;” so spake my guide: +“For not on downy plumes, nor under shade +Of canopy reposing, fame is won, +Without which whosoe’er consumes his days +Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth, +As smoke in air or foam upon the wave. +Thou therefore rise: vanish thy weariness +By the mind’s effort, in each struggle form’d +To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight +Of her corporeal frame to crush her down. +A longer ladder yet remains to scale. +From these to have escap’d sufficeth not. +If well thou note me, profit by my words.” + +I straightway rose, and show’d myself less spent +Than I in truth did feel me. “On,” I cried, +“For I am stout and fearless.” Up the rock +Our way we held, more rugged than before, +Narrower and steeper far to climb. From talk +I ceas’d not, as we journey’d, so to seem +Least faint; whereat a voice from the other foss +Did issue forth, for utt’rance suited ill. +Though on the arch that crosses there I stood, +What were the words I knew not, but who spake +Seem’d mov’d in anger. Down I stoop’d to look, +But my quick eye might reach not to the depth +For shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake: +“To the next circle, Teacher, bend thy steps, +And from the wall dismount we; for as hence +I hear and understand not, so I see +Beneath, and naught discern.”—“I answer not,” +Said he, “but by the deed. To fair request +Silent performance maketh best return.” + +We from the bridge’s head descended, where +To the eighth mound it joins, and then the chasm +Opening to view, I saw a crowd within +Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape +And hideous, that remembrance in my veins +Yet shrinks the vital current. Of her sands +Let Lybia vaunt no more: if Jaculus, +Pareas and Chelyder be her brood, +Cenchris and Amphisboena, plagues so dire +Or in such numbers swarming ne’er she shew’d, +Not with all Ethiopia, and whate’er +Above the Erythraean sea is spawn’d. + +Amid this dread exuberance of woe +Ran naked spirits wing’d with horrid fear, +Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide, +Or heliotrope to charm them out of view. +With serpents were their hands behind them bound, +Which through their reins infix’d the tail and head +Twisted in folds before. And lo! on one +Near to our side, darted an adder up, +And, where the neck is on the shoulders tied, +Transpierc’d him. Far more quickly than e’er pen +Wrote O or I, he kindled, burn’d, and chang’d +To ashes, all pour’d out upon the earth. +When there dissolv’d he lay, the dust again +Uproll’d spontaneous, and the self-same form +Instant resumed. So mighty sages tell, +The’ Arabian Phoenix, when five hundred years +Have well nigh circled, dies, and springs forthwith +Renascent. Blade nor herb throughout his life +He tastes, but tears of frankincense alone +And odorous amomum: swaths of nard +And myrrh his funeral shroud. As one that falls, +He knows not how, by force demoniac dragg’d +To earth, or through obstruction fettering up +In chains invisible the powers of man, +Who, risen from his trance, gazeth around, +Bewilder’d with the monstrous agony +He hath endur’d, and wildly staring sighs; +So stood aghast the sinner when he rose. + +Oh! how severe God’s judgment, that deals out +Such blows in stormy vengeance! Who he was +My teacher next inquir’d, and thus in few +He answer’d: “Vanni Fucci am I call’d, +Not long since rained down from Tuscany +To this dire gullet. Me the beastial life +And not the human pleas’d, mule that I was, +Who in Pistoia found my worthy den.” + +I then to Virgil: “Bid him stir not hence, +And ask what crime did thrust him hither: once +A man I knew him choleric and bloody.” + +The sinner heard and feign’d not, but towards me +His mind directing and his face, wherein +Was dismal shame depictur’d, thus he spake: +“It grieves me more to have been caught by thee +In this sad plight, which thou beholdest, than +When I was taken from the other life. +I have no power permitted to deny +What thou inquirest. I am doom’d thus low +To dwell, for that the sacristy by me +Was rifled of its goodly ornaments, +And with the guilt another falsely charged. +But that thou mayst not joy to see me thus, +So as thou e’er shalt ’scape this darksome realm +Open thine ears and hear what I forebode. +Reft of the Neri first Pistoia pines, +Then Florence changeth citizens and laws. +From Valdimagra, drawn by wrathful Mars, +A vapour rises, wrapt in turbid mists, +And sharp and eager driveth on the storm +With arrowy hurtling o’er Piceno’s field, +Whence suddenly the cloud shall burst, and strike +Each helpless Bianco prostrate to the ground. +This have I told, that grief may rend thy heart.” + + + + +CANTO XXV + + +When he had spoke, the sinner rais’d his hands +Pointed in mockery, and cried: “Take them, God! +I level them at thee!” From that day forth +The serpents were my friends; for round his neck +One of then rolling twisted, as it said, +“Be silent, tongue!” Another to his arms +Upgliding, tied them, riveting itself +So close, it took from them the power to move. + +Pistoia! Ah Pistoia! why dost doubt +To turn thee into ashes, cumb’ring earth +No longer, since in evil act so far +Thou hast outdone thy seed? I did not mark, +Through all the gloomy circles of the’ abyss, +Spirit, that swell’d so proudly ’gainst his God, +Not him, who headlong fell from Thebes. He fled, +Nor utter’d more; and after him there came +A centaur full of fury, shouting, “Where +Where is the caitiff?” On Maremma’s marsh +Swarm not the serpent tribe, as on his haunch +They swarm’d, to where the human face begins. +Behind his head upon the shoulders lay, +With open wings, a dragon breathing fire +On whomsoe’er he met. To me my guide: +“Cacus is this, who underneath the rock +Of Aventine spread oft a lake of blood. +He, from his brethren parted, here must tread +A different journey, for his fraudful theft +Of the great herd, that near him stall’d; whence found +His felon deeds their end, beneath the mace +Of stout Alcides, that perchance laid on +A hundred blows, and not the tenth was felt.” + +While yet he spake, the centaur sped away: +And under us three spirits came, of whom +Nor I nor he was ware, till they exclaim’d; +“Say who are ye?” We then brake off discourse, +Intent on these alone. I knew them not; +But, as it chanceth oft, befell, that one +Had need to name another. “Where,” said he, +“Doth Cianfa lurk?” I, for a sign my guide +Should stand attentive, plac’d against my lips +The finger lifted. If, O reader! now +Thou be not apt to credit what I tell, +No marvel; for myself do scarce allow +The witness of mine eyes. But as I looked +Toward them, lo! a serpent with six feet +Springs forth on one, and fastens full upon him: +His midmost grasp’d the belly, a forefoot +Seiz’d on each arm (while deep in either cheek +He flesh’d his fangs); the hinder on the thighs +Were spread, ’twixt which the tail inserted curl’d +Upon the reins behind. Ivy ne’er clasp’d +A dodder’d oak, as round the other’s limbs +The hideous monster intertwin’d his own. +Then, as they both had been of burning wax, +Each melted into other, mingling hues, +That which was either now was seen no more. +Thus up the shrinking paper, ere it burns, +A brown tint glides, not turning yet to black, +And the clean white expires. The other two +Look’d on exclaiming: “Ah, how dost thou change, +Agnello! See! Thou art nor double now, + +“Nor only one.” The two heads now became +One, and two figures blended in one form +Appear’d, where both were lost. Of the four lengths +Two arms were made: the belly and the chest +The thighs and legs into such members chang’d, +As never eye hath seen. Of former shape +All trace was vanish’d. Two yet neither seem’d +That image miscreate, and so pass’d on +With tardy steps. As underneath the scourge +Of the fierce dog-star, that lays bare the fields, +Shifting from brake to brake, the lizard seems +A flash of lightning, if he thwart the road, +So toward th’ entrails of the other two +Approaching seem’d, an adder all on fire, +As the dark pepper-grain, livid and swart. +In that part, whence our life is nourish’d first, +One he transpierc’d; then down before him fell +Stretch’d out. The pierced spirit look’d on him +But spake not; yea stood motionless and yawn’d, +As if by sleep or fev’rous fit assail’d. +He ey’d the serpent, and the serpent him. +One from the wound, the other from the mouth +Breath’d a thick smoke, whose vap’ry columns join’d. + +Lucan in mute attention now may hear, +Nor thy disastrous fate, Sabellus! tell, +Nor shine, Nasidius! Ovid now be mute. +What if in warbling fiction he record +Cadmus and Arethusa, to a snake +Him chang’d, and her into a fountain clear, +I envy not; for never face to face +Two natures thus transmuted did he sing, +Wherein both shapes were ready to assume +The other’s substance. They in mutual guise +So answer’d, that the serpent split his train +Divided to a fork, and the pierc’d spirit +Drew close his steps together, legs and thighs +Compacted, that no sign of juncture soon +Was visible: the tail disparted took +The figure which the spirit lost, its skin +Soft’ning, his indurated to a rind. +The shoulders next I mark’d, that ent’ring join’d +The monster’s arm-pits, whose two shorter feet +So lengthen’d, as the other’s dwindling shrunk. +The feet behind then twisting up became +That part that man conceals, which in the wretch +Was cleft in twain. While both the shadowy smoke +With a new colour veils, and generates +Th’ excrescent pile on one, peeling it off +From th’ other body, lo! upon his feet +One upright rose, and prone the other fell. +Not yet their glaring and malignant lamps +Were shifted, though each feature chang’d beneath. +Of him who stood erect, the mounting face +Retreated towards the temples, and what there +Superfluous matter came, shot out in ears +From the smooth cheeks, the rest, not backward dragg’d, +Of its excess did shape the nose; and swell’d +Into due size protuberant the lips. +He, on the earth who lay, meanwhile extends +His sharpen’d visage, and draws down the ears +Into the head, as doth the slug his horns. +His tongue continuous before and apt +For utt’rance, severs; and the other’s fork +Closing unites. That done the smoke was laid. +The soul, transform’d into the brute, glides off, +Hissing along the vale, and after him +The other talking sputters; but soon turn’d +His new-grown shoulders on him, and in few +Thus to another spake: “Along this path +Crawling, as I have done, speed Buoso now!” + +So saw I fluctuate in successive change +Th’ unsteady ballast of the seventh hold: +And here if aught my tongue have swerv’d, events +So strange may be its warrant. O’er mine eyes +Confusion hung, and on my thoughts amaze. + +Yet ’scap’d they not so covertly, but well +I mark’d Sciancato: he alone it was +Of the three first that came, who chang’d not: thou, +The other’s fate, Gaville, still dost rue. + + + + +CANTO XXVI + + +Florence exult! for thou so mightily +Hast thriven, that o’er land and sea thy wings +Thou beatest, and thy name spreads over hell! +Among the plund’rers such the three I found +Thy citizens, whence shame to me thy son, +And no proud honour to thyself redounds. + +But if our minds, when dreaming near the dawn, +Are of the truth presageful, thou ere long +Shalt feel what Prato, (not to say the rest) +Would fain might come upon thee; and that chance +Were in good time, if it befell thee now. +Would so it were, since it must needs befall! +For as time wears me, I shall grieve the more. + +We from the depth departed; and my guide +Remounting scal’d the flinty steps, which late +We downward trac’d, and drew me up the steep. +Pursuing thus our solitary way +Among the crags and splinters of the rock, +Sped not our feet without the help of hands. + +Then sorrow seiz’d me, which e’en now revives, +As my thought turns again to what I saw, +And, more than I am wont, I rein and curb +The powers of nature in me, lest they run +Where Virtue guides not; that if aught of good +My gentle star, or something better gave me, +I envy not myself the precious boon. + +As in that season, when the sun least veils +His face that lightens all, what time the fly +Gives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant then +Upon some cliff reclin’d, beneath him sees +Fire-flies innumerous spangling o’er the vale, +Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies: +With flames so numberless throughout its space +Shone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depth +Was to my view expos’d. As he, whose wrongs +The bears aveng’d, at its departure saw +Elijah’s chariot, when the steeds erect +Rais’d their steep flight for heav’n; his eyes meanwhile, +Straining pursu’d them, till the flame alone +Upsoaring like a misty speck he kenn’d; +E’en thus along the gulf moves every flame, +A sinner so enfolded close in each, +That none exhibits token of the theft. + +Upon the bridge I forward bent to look, +And grasp’d a flinty mass, or else had fall’n, +Though push’d not from the height. The guide, who mark’d +How I did gaze attentive, thus began: + +“Within these ardours are the spirits, each +Swath’d in confining fire.”—“Master, thy word,” +I answer’d, “hath assur’d me; yet I deem’d +Already of the truth, already wish’d +To ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comes +So parted at the summit, as it seem’d +Ascending from that funeral pile, where lay +The Theban brothers?” He replied: “Within +Ulysses there and Diomede endure +Their penal tortures, thus to vengeance now +Together hasting, as erewhile to wrath. +These in the flame with ceaseless groans deplore +The ambush of the horse, that open’d wide +A portal for that goodly seed to pass, +Which sow’d imperial Rome; nor less the guile +Lament they, whence of her Achilles ’reft +Deidamia yet in death complains. +And there is rued the stratagem, that Troy +Of her Palladium spoil’d.”—“If they have power +Of utt’rance from within these sparks,” said I, +“O master! think my prayer a thousand fold +In repetition urg’d, that thou vouchsafe +To pause, till here the horned flame arrive. +See, how toward it with desire I bend.” + +He thus: “Thy prayer is worthy of much praise, +And I accept it therefore: but do thou +Thy tongue refrain: to question them be mine, +For I divine thy wish: and they perchance, +For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee.” + +When there the flame had come, where time and place +Seem’d fitting to my guide, he thus began: +“O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire! +If living I of you did merit aught, +Whate’er the measure were of that desert, +When in the world my lofty strain I pour’d, +Move ye not on, till one of you unfold +In what clime death o’ertook him self-destroy’d.” + +Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn +Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire +That labours with the wind, then to and fro +Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds, +Threw out its voice, and spake: “When I escap’d +From Circe, who beyond a circling year +Had held me near Caieta, by her charms, +Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam’d the shore, +Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence +Of my old father, nor return of love, +That should have crown’d Penelope with joy, +Could overcome in me the zeal I had +T’ explore the world, and search the ways of life, +Man’s evil and his virtue. Forth I sail’d +Into the deep illimitable main, +With but one bark, and the small faithful band +That yet cleav’d to me. As Iberia far, +Far as Morocco either shore I saw, +And the Sardinian and each isle beside +Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age +Were I and my companions, when we came +To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain’d +The bound’ries not to be o’erstepp’d by man. +The walls of Seville to my right I left, +On the’ other hand already Ceuta past. + +“O brothers!” I began, “who to the west +Through perils without number now have reach’d, +To this the short remaining watch, that yet +Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof +Of the unpeopled world, following the track +Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang: +Ye were not form’d to live the life of brutes +But virtue to pursue and knowledge high. +With these few words I sharpen’d for the voyage +The mind of my associates, that I then +Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn +Our poop we turn’d, and for the witless flight +Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left. +Each star of the’ other pole night now beheld, +And ours so low, that from the ocean-floor +It rose not. Five times re-illum’d, as oft +Vanish’d the light from underneath the moon +Since the deep way we enter’d, when from far +Appear’d a mountain dim, loftiest methought +Of all I e’er beheld. Joy seiz’d us straight, +But soon to mourning changed. From the new land +A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side +Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl’d her round +With all the waves, the fourth time lifted up +The poop, and sank the prow: so fate decreed: +And over us the booming billow clos’d.” + + + + +CANTO XVII + + +Now upward rose the flame, and still’d its light +To speak no more, and now pass’d on with leave +From the mild poet gain’d, when following came +Another, from whose top a sound confus’d, +Forth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look. + +As the Sicilian bull, that rightfully +His cries first echoed, who had shap’d its mould, +Did so rebellow, with the voice of him +Tormented, that the brazen monster seem’d +Pierc’d through with pain; thus while no way they found +Nor avenue immediate through the flame, +Into its language turn’d the dismal words: +But soon as they had won their passage forth, +Up from the point, which vibrating obey’d +Their motion at the tongue, these sounds we heard: +“O thou! to whom I now direct my voice! +That lately didst exclaim in Lombard phrase, + +“Depart thou, I solicit thee no more, +Though somewhat tardy I perchance arrive +Let it not irk thee here to pause awhile, +And with me parley: lo! it irks not me +And yet I burn. If but e’en now thou fall +into this blind world, from that pleasant land +Of Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt, +Tell me if those, who in Romagna dwell, +Have peace or war. For of the mountains there +Was I, betwixt Urbino and the height, +Whence Tyber first unlocks his mighty flood.” + +Leaning I listen’d yet with heedful ear, +When, as he touch’d my side, the leader thus: +“Speak thou: he is a Latian.” My reply +Was ready, and I spake without delay: + +“O spirit! who art hidden here below! +Never was thy Romagna without war +In her proud tyrants’ bosoms, nor is now: +But open war there left I none. The state, +Ravenna hath maintain’d this many a year, +Is steadfast. There Polenta’s eagle broods, +And in his broad circumference of plume +O’ershadows Cervia. The green talons grasp +The land, that stood erewhile the proof so long, +And pil’d in bloody heap the host of France. + +“The’ old mastiff of Verruchio and the young, +That tore Montagna in their wrath, still make, +Where they are wont, an augre of their fangs. + +“Lamone’s city and Santerno’s range +Under the lion of the snowy lair. +Inconstant partisan! that changeth sides, +Or ever summer yields to winter’s frost. +And she, whose flank is wash’d of Savio’s wave, +As ’twixt the level and the steep she lies, +Lives so ’twixt tyrant power and liberty. + +“Now tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou? +Be not more hard than others. In the world, +So may thy name still rear its forehead high.” + +Then roar’d awhile the fire, its sharpen’d point +On either side wav’d, and thus breath’d at last: +“If I did think, my answer were to one, +Who ever could return unto the world, +This flame should rest unshaken. But since ne’er, +If true be told me, any from this depth +Has found his upward way, I answer thee, +Nor fear lest infamy record the words. + +“A man of arms at first, I cloth’d me then +In good Saint Francis’ girdle, hoping so +T’ have made amends. And certainly my hope +Had fail’d not, but that he, whom curses light on, +The’ high priest again seduc’d me into sin. +And how and wherefore listen while I tell. +Long as this spirit mov’d the bones and pulp +My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake +The nature of the lion than the fox. +All ways of winding subtlety I knew, +And with such art conducted, that the sound +Reach’d the world’s limit. Soon as to that part +Of life I found me come, when each behoves +To lower sails and gather in the lines; +That which before had pleased me then I rued, +And to repentance and confession turn’d; +Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me! +The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, +Waging his warfare near the Lateran, +Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes +All Christians were, nor against Acre one +Had fought, nor traffic’d in the Soldan’s land), +He his great charge nor sacred ministry +In himself, rev’renc’d, nor in me that cord, +Which us’d to mark with leanness whom it girded. +As in Socrate, Constantine besought +To cure his leprosy Sylvester’s aid, +So me to cure the fever of his pride +This man besought: my counsel to that end +He ask’d: and I was silent: for his words +Seem’d drunken: but forthwith he thus resum’d: +‘From thy heart banish fear: of all offence +I hitherto absolve thee. In return, +Teach me my purpose so to execute, +That Penestrino cumber earth no more. +Heav’n, as thou knowest, I have power to shut +And open: and the keys are therefore twain, +The which my predecessor meanly priz’d.’” + +Then, yielding to the forceful arguments, +Of silence as more perilous I deem’d, +And answer’d: “Father! since thou washest me +Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall, +Large promise with performance scant, be sure, +Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.” + +“When I was number’d with the dead, then came +Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark +He met, who cried: ‘Wrong me not; he is mine, +And must below to join the wretched crew, +For the deceitful counsel which he gave. +E’er since I watch’d him, hov’ring at his hair, +No power can the impenitent absolve; +Nor to repent and will at once consist, +By contradiction absolute forbid.’” +Oh mis’ry! how I shook myself, when he +Seiz’d me, and cried, “Thou haply thought’st me not +A disputant in logic so exact.” +To Minos down he bore me, and the judge +Twin’d eight times round his callous back the tail, +Which biting with excess of rage, he spake: +“This is a guilty soul, that in the fire +Must vanish. Hence perdition-doom’d I rove +A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb.” + +When he had thus fulfill’d his words, the flame +In dolour parted, beating to and fro, +And writhing its sharp horn. We onward went, +I and my leader, up along the rock, +Far as another arch, that overhangs +The foss, wherein the penalty is paid +Of those, who load them with committed sin. + + + + +CANTO XXVIII + + +Who, e’en in words unfetter’d, might at full +Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, +Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue +So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought +Both impotent alike. If in one band +Collected, stood the people all, who e’er +Pour’d on Apulia’s happy soil their blood, +Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war +When of the rings the measur’d booty made +A pile so high, as Rome’s historian writes +Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt +The grinding force of Guiscard’s Norman steel, +And those the rest, whose bones are gather’d yet +At Ceperano, there where treachery +Branded th’ Apulian name, or where beyond +Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms +The old Alardo conquer’d; and his limbs +One were to show transpierc’d, another his +Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this +Were but a thing of nought, to the’ hideous sight +Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost +Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide, +As one I mark’d, torn from the chin throughout +Down to the hinder passage: ’twixt the legs +Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay +Open to view, and wretched ventricle, +That turns th’ englutted aliment to dross. + +Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze, +He ey’d me, with his hands laid his breast bare, +And cried; “Now mark how I do rip me! lo! + +“How is Mohammed mangled! before me +Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face +Cleft to the forelock; and the others all +Whom here thou seest, while they liv’d, did sow +Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent. +A fiend is here behind, who with his sword +Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again +Each of this ream, when we have compast round +The dismal way, for first our gashes close +Ere we repass before him. But say who +Art thou, that standest musing on the rock, +Haply so lingering to delay the pain +Sentenc’d upon thy crimes?”—“Him death not yet,” +My guide rejoin’d, “hath overta’en, nor sin +Conducts to torment; but, that he may make +Full trial of your state, I who am dead +Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb, +Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true.” + +More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard, +Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed, +Forgetful of their pangs. “Thou, who perchance +Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou +Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not +Here soon to follow me, that with good store +Of food he arm him, lest impris’ning snows +Yield him a victim to Novara’s power, +No easy conquest else.” With foot uprais’d +For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground +Then fix’d it to depart. Another shade, +Pierc’d in the throat, his nostrils mutilate +E’en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear +Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood +Gazing, before the rest advanc’d, and bar’d +His wind-pipe, that without was all o’ersmear’d +With crimson stain. “O thou!” said he, “whom sin +Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near +Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft +Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind +Piero of Medicina, if again +Returning, thou behold’st the pleasant land +That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo; + +“And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts +Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo, +That if ’t is giv’n us here to scan aright +The future, they out of life’s tenement +Shall be cast forth, and whelm’d under the waves +Near to Cattolica, through perfidy +Of a fell tyrant. ’Twixt the Cyprian isle +And Balearic, ne’er hath Neptune seen +An injury so foul, by pirates done +Or Argive crew of old. That one-ey’d traitor +(Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain +His eye had still lack’d sight of) them shall bring +To conf’rence with him, then so shape his end, +That they shall need not ’gainst Focara’s wind +Offer up vow nor pray’r.” I answering thus: + +“Declare, as thou dost wish that I above +May carry tidings of thee, who is he, +In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?” + +Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone +Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws +Expanding, cried: “Lo! this is he I wot of; +He speaks not for himself: the outcast this +Who overwhelm’d the doubt in Caesar’s mind, +Affirming that delay to men prepar’d +Was ever harmful.” Oh how terrified +Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut +The tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then one +Maim’d of each hand, uplifted in the gloom +The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots +Sullied his face, and cried: “‘Remember thee +Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim’d, +‘The deed once done there is an end,’ that prov’d +A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race.” + +I added: “Ay, and death to thine own tribe.” + +Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off, +As one grief stung to madness. But I there +Still linger’d to behold the troop, and saw +Things, such as I may fear without more proof +To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm, +The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate +Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within +And bids him on and fear not. Without doubt +I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me, +A headless trunk, that even as the rest +Of the sad flock pac’d onward. By the hair +It bore the sever’d member, lantern-wise +Pendent in hand, which look’d at us and said, + +“Woe’s me!” The spirit lighted thus himself, +And two there were in one, and one in two. +How that may be he knows who ordereth so. + +When at the bridge’s foot direct he stood, +His arm aloft he rear’d, thrusting the head +Full in our view, that nearer we might hear +The words, which thus it utter’d: “Now behold +This grievous torment, thou, who breathing go’st +To spy the dead; behold if any else +Be terrible as this. And that on earth +Thou mayst bear tidings of me, know that I +Am Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King John +The counsel mischievous. Father and son +I set at mutual war. For Absalom +And David more did not Ahitophel, +Spurring them on maliciously to strife. +For parting those so closely knit, my brain +Parted, alas! I carry from its source, +That in this trunk inhabits. Thus the law +Of retribution fiercely works in me.” + + + + +CANTO XXIX + + +So were mine eyes inebriate with view +Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds +Disfigur’d, that they long’d to stay and weep. + +But Virgil rous’d me: “What yet gazest on? +Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below +Among the maim’d and miserable shades? +Thou hast not shewn in any chasm beside +This weakness. Know, if thou wouldst number them +That two and twenty miles the valley winds +Its circuit, and already is the moon +Beneath our feet: the time permitted now +Is short, and more not seen remains to see.” + +“If thou,” I straight replied, “hadst weigh’d the cause +For which I look’d, thou hadst perchance excus’d +The tarrying still.” My leader part pursu’d +His way, the while I follow’d, answering him, +And adding thus: “Within that cave I deem, +Whereon so fixedly I held my ken, +There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood, +Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear.” + +Then spake my master: “Let thy soul no more +Afflict itself for him. Direct elsewhere +Its thought, and leave him. At the bridge’s foot +I mark’d how he did point with menacing look +At thee, and heard him by the others nam’d +Geri of Bello. Thou so wholly then +Wert busied with his spirit, who once rul’d +The towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst not +That way, ere he was gone.”—“O guide belov’d! +His violent death yet unaveng’d,” said I, +“By any, who are partners in his shame, +Made him contemptuous: therefore, as I think, +He pass’d me speechless by; and doing so +Hath made me more compassionate his fate.” + +So we discours’d to where the rock first show’d +The other valley, had more light been there, +E’en to the lowest depth. Soon as we came +O’er the last cloister in the dismal rounds +Of Malebolge, and the brotherhood +Were to our view expos’d, then many a dart +Of sore lament assail’d me, headed all +With points of thrilling pity, that I clos’d +Both ears against the volley with mine hands. + +As were the torment, if each lazar-house +Of Valdichiana, in the sultry time +’Twixt July and September, with the isle +Sardinia and Maremma’s pestilent fen, +Had heap’d their maladies all in one foss +Together; such was here the torment: dire +The stench, as issuing steams from fester’d limbs. + +We on the utmost shore of the long rock +Descended still to leftward. Then my sight +Was livelier to explore the depth, wherein +The minister of the most mighty Lord, +All-searching Justice, dooms to punishment +The forgers noted on her dread record. + +More rueful was it not methinks to see +The nation in Aegina droop, what time +Each living thing, e’en to the little worm, +All fell, so full of malice was the air +(And afterward, as bards of yore have told, +The ancient people were restor’d anew +From seed of emmets) than was here to see +The spirits, that languish’d through the murky vale +Up-pil’d on many a stack. Confus’d they lay, +One o’er the belly, o’er the shoulders one +Roll’d of another; sideling crawl’d a third +Along the dismal pathway. Step by step +We journey’d on, in silence looking round +And list’ning those diseas’d, who strove in vain +To lift their forms. Then two I mark’d, that sat +Propp’d ’gainst each other, as two brazen pans +Set to retain the heat. From head to foot, +A tetter bark’d them round. Nor saw I e’er +Groom currying so fast, for whom his lord +Impatient waited, or himself perchance +Tir’d with long watching, as of these each one +Plied quickly his keen nails, through furiousness +Of ne’er abated pruriency. The crust +Came drawn from underneath in flakes, like scales +Scrap’d from the bream or fish of broader mail. + +“O thou, who with thy fingers rendest off +Thy coat of proof,” thus spake my guide to one, +“And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them, +Tell me if any born of Latian land +Be among these within: so may thy nails +Serve thee for everlasting to this toil.” + +“Both are of Latium,” weeping he replied, +“Whom tortur’d thus thou seest: but who art thou +That hast inquir’d of us?” To whom my guide: +“One that descend with this man, who yet lives, +From rock to rock, and show him hell’s abyss.” + +Then started they asunder, and each turn’d +Trembling toward us, with the rest, whose ear +Those words redounding struck. To me my liege +Address’d him: “Speak to them whate’er thou list.” + +And I therewith began: “So may no time +Filch your remembrance from the thoughts of men +In th’ upper world, but after many suns +Survive it, as ye tell me, who ye are, +And of what race ye come. Your punishment, +Unseemly and disgustful in its kind, +Deter you not from opening thus much to me.” + +“Arezzo was my dwelling,” answer’d one, +“And me Albero of Sienna brought +To die by fire; but that, for which I died, +Leads me not here. True is in sport I told him, +That I had learn’d to wing my flight in air. +And he admiring much, as he was void +Of wisdom, will’d me to declare to him +The secret of mine art: and only hence, +Because I made him not a Daedalus, +Prevail’d on one suppos’d his sire to burn me. +But Minos to this chasm last of the ten, +For that I practis’d alchemy on earth, +Has doom’d me. Him no subterfuge eludes.” + +Then to the bard I spake: “Was ever race +Light as Sienna’s? Sure not France herself +Can show a tribe so frivolous and vain.” + +The other leprous spirit heard my words, +And thus return’d: “Be Stricca from this charge +Exempted, he who knew so temp’rately +To lay out fortune’s gifts; and Niccolo +Who first the spice’s costly luxury +Discover’d in that garden, where such seed +Roots deepest in the soil: and be that troop +Exempted, with whom Caccia of Asciano +Lavish’d his vineyards and wide-spreading woods, +And his rare wisdom Abbagliato show’d +A spectacle for all. That thou mayst know +Who seconds thee against the Siennese +Thus gladly, bend this way thy sharpen’d sight, +That well my face may answer to thy ken; +So shalt thou see I am Capocchio’s ghost, +Who forg’d transmuted metals by the power +Of alchemy; and if I scan thee right, +Thus needs must well remember how I aped +Creative nature by my subtle art.” + + + + +CANTO XXX + + +What time resentment burn’d in Juno’s breast +For Semele against the Theban blood, +As more than once in dire mischance was rued, +Such fatal frenzy seiz’d on Athamas, +That he his spouse beholding with a babe +Laden on either arm, “Spread out,” he cried, +“The meshes, that I take the lioness +And the young lions at the pass:” then forth +Stretch’d he his merciless talons, grasping one, +One helpless innocent, Learchus nam’d, +Whom swinging down he dash’d upon a rock, +And with her other burden self-destroy’d +The hapless mother plung’d: and when the pride +Of all-presuming Troy fell from its height, +By fortune overwhelm’d, and the old king +With his realm perish’d, then did Hecuba, +A wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw +Polyxena first slaughter’d, and her son, +Her Polydorus, on the wild sea-beach +Next met the mourner’s view, then reft of sense +Did she run barking even as a dog; +Such mighty power had grief to wrench her soul. +Bet ne’er the Furies or of Thebes or Troy +With such fell cruelty were seen, their goads +Infixing in the limbs of man or beast, +As now two pale and naked ghost I saw +That gnarling wildly scamper’d, like the swine +Excluded from his stye. One reach’d Capocchio, +And in the neck-joint sticking deep his fangs, +Dragg’d him, that o’er the solid pavement rubb’d +His belly stretch’d out prone. The other shape, +He of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake; +“That sprite of air is Schicchi; in like mood +Of random mischief vent he still his spite.” + +To whom I answ’ring: “Oh! as thou dost hope, +The other may not flesh its jaws on thee, +Be patient to inform us, who it is, +Ere it speed hence.”—“That is the ancient soul +Of wretched Myrrha,” he replied, “who burn’d +With most unholy flame for her own sire, + +“And a false shape assuming, so perform’d +The deed of sin; e’en as the other there, +That onward passes, dar’d to counterfeit +Donati’s features, to feign’d testament +The seal affixing, that himself might gain, +For his own share, the lady of the herd.” + +When vanish’d the two furious shades, on whom +Mine eye was held, I turn’d it back to view +The other cursed spirits. One I saw +In fashion like a lute, had but the groin +Been sever’d, where it meets the forked part. +Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs +With ill-converted moisture, that the paunch +Suits not the visage, open’d wide his lips +Gasping as in the hectic man for drought, +One towards the chin, the other upward curl’d. + +“O ye, who in this world of misery, +Wherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,” +Thus he began, “attentively regard +Adamo’s woe. When living, full supply +Ne’er lack’d me of what most I coveted; +One drop of water now, alas! I crave. +The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes +Of Casentino, making fresh and soft +The banks whereby they glide to Arno’s stream, +Stand ever in my view; and not in vain; +For more the pictur’d semblance dries me up, +Much more than the disease, which makes the flesh +Desert these shrivel’d cheeks. So from the place, +Where I transgress’d, stern justice urging me, +Takes means to quicken more my lab’ring sighs. +There is Romena, where I falsified +The metal with the Baptist’s form imprest, +For which on earth I left my body burnt. +But if I here might see the sorrowing soul +Of Guido, Alessandro, or their brother, +For Branda’s limpid spring I would not change +The welcome sight. One is e’en now within, +If truly the mad spirits tell, that round +Are wand’ring. But wherein besteads me that? +My limbs are fetter’d. Were I but so light, +That I each hundred years might move one inch, +I had set forth already on this path, +Seeking him out amidst the shapeless crew, +Although eleven miles it wind, not more +Than half of one across. They brought me down +Among this tribe; induc’d by them I stamp’d +The florens with three carats of alloy.” + +“Who are that abject pair,” I next inquir’d, +“That closely bounding thee upon thy right +Lie smoking, like a band in winter steep’d +In the chill stream?”—“When to this gulf I dropt,” +He answer’d, “here I found them; since that hour +They have not turn’d, nor ever shall, I ween, +Till time hath run his course. One is that dame +The false accuser of the Hebrew youth; +Sinon the other, that false Greek from Troy. +Sharp fever drains the reeky moistness out, +In such a cloud upsteam’d.” When that he heard, +One, gall’d perchance to be so darkly nam’d, +With clench’d hand smote him on the braced paunch, +That like a drum resounded: but forthwith +Adamo smote him on the face, the blow +Returning with his arm, that seem’d as hard. + +“Though my o’erweighty limbs have ta’en from me +The power to move,” said he, “I have an arm +At liberty for such employ.” To whom +Was answer’d: “When thou wentest to the fire, +Thou hadst it not so ready at command, +Then readier when it coin’d th’ impostor gold.” + +And thus the dropsied: “Ay, now speak’st thou true. +But there thou gav’st not such true testimony, +When thou wast question’d of the truth, at Troy.” + +“If I spake false, thou falsely stamp’dst the coin,” +Said Sinon; “I am here but for one fault, +And thou for more than any imp beside.” + +“Remember,” he replied, “O perjur’d one, +The horse remember, that did teem with death, +And all the world be witness to thy guilt.” + +“To thine,” return’d the Greek, “witness the thirst +Whence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound, +Rear’d by thy belly up before thine eyes, +A mass corrupt.” To whom the coiner thus: +“Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass +Its evil saying. Me if thirst assails, +Yet I am stuff’d with moisture. Thou art parch’d, +Pains rack thy head, no urging would’st thou need +To make thee lap Narcissus’ mirror up.” + +I was all fix’d to listen, when my guide +Admonish’d: “Now beware: a little more. +And I do quarrel with thee.” I perceiv’d +How angrily he spake, and towards him turn’d +With shame so poignant, as remember’d yet +Confounds me. As a man that dreams of harm +Befall’n him, dreaming wishes it a dream, +And that which is, desires as if it were not, +Such then was I, who wanting power to speak +Wish’d to excuse myself, and all the while +Excus’d me, though unweeting that I did. + +“More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,” +My master cried, “might expiate. Therefore cast +All sorrow from thy soul; and if again +Chance bring thee, where like conference is held, +Think I am ever at thy side. To hear +Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.” + + + + +CANTO XXXI + + +The very tongue, whose keen reproof before +Had wounded me, that either cheek was stain’d, +Now minister’d my cure. So have I heard, +Achilles and his father’s javelin caus’d +Pain first, and then the boon of health restor’d. + +Turning our back upon the vale of woe, +W cross’d th’ encircled mound in silence. There +Was twilight dim, that far long the gloom +Mine eye advanc’d not: but I heard a horn +Sounded aloud. The peal it blew had made +The thunder feeble. Following its course +The adverse way, my strained eyes were bent +On that one spot. So terrible a blast +Orlando blew not, when that dismal rout +O’erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench’d +His saintly warfare. Thitherward not long +My head was rais’d, when many lofty towers +Methought I spied. “Master,” said I, “what land +Is this?” He answer’d straight: “Too long a space +Of intervening darkness has thine eye +To traverse: thou hast therefore widely err’d +In thy imagining. Thither arriv’d +Thou well shalt see, how distance can delude +The sense. A little therefore urge thee on.” + +Then tenderly he caught me by the hand; +“Yet know,” said he, “ere farther we advance, +That it less strange may seem, these are not towers, +But giants. In the pit they stand immers’d, +Each from his navel downward, round the bank.” + +As when a fog disperseth gradually, +Our vision traces what the mist involves +Condens’d in air; so piercing through the gross +And gloomy atmosphere, as more and more +We near’d toward the brink, mine error fled, +And fear came o’er me. As with circling round +Of turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls, +E’en thus the shore, encompassing th’ abyss, +Was turreted with giants, half their length +Uprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav’n +Yet threatens, when his mutt’ring thunder rolls. + +Of one already I descried the face, +Shoulders, and breast, and of the belly huge +Great part, and both arms down along his ribs. + +All-teeming nature, when her plastic hand +Left framing of these monsters, did display +Past doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War +Such slaves to do his bidding; and if she +Repent her not of th’ elephant and whale, +Who ponders well confesses her therein +Wiser and more discreet; for when brute force +And evil will are back’d with subtlety, +Resistance none avails. His visage seem’d +In length and bulk, as doth the pine, that tops +Saint Peter’s Roman fane; and th’ other bones +Of like proportion, so that from above +The bank, which girdled him below, such height +Arose his stature, that three Friezelanders +Had striv’n in vain to reach but to his hair. +Full thirty ample palms was he expos’d +Downward from whence a man his garments loops. +“Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,” +So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns +Became not; and my guide address’d him thus: + +“O senseless spirit! let thy horn for thee +Interpret: therewith vent thy rage, if rage +Or other passion wring thee. Search thy neck, +There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on. +Wild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breast +Where hangs the baldrick!” Then to me he spake: +“He doth accuse himself. Nimrod is this, +Through whose ill counsel in the world no more +One tongue prevails. But pass we on, nor waste +Our words; for so each language is to him, +As his to others, understood by none.” + +Then to the leftward turning sped we forth, +And at a sling’s throw found another shade +Far fiercer and more huge. I cannot say +What master hand had girt him; but he held +Behind the right arm fetter’d, and before +The other with a chain, that fasten’d him +From the neck down, and five times round his form +Apparent met the wreathed links. “This proud one +Would of his strength against almighty Jove +Make trial,” said my guide; “whence he is thus +Requited: Ephialtes him they call. + +“Great was his prowess, when the giants brought +Fear on the gods: those arms, which then he piled, +Now moves he never.” Forthwith I return’d: +“Fain would I, if ’t were possible, mine eyes +Of Briareus immeasurable gain’d +Experience next.” He answer’d: “Thou shalt see +Not far from hence Antaeus, who both speaks +And is unfetter’d, who shall place us there +Where guilt is at its depth. Far onward stands +Whom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and made +Like to this spirit, save that in his looks +More fell he seems.” By violent earthquake rock’d +Ne’er shook a tow’r, so reeling to its base, +As Ephialtes. More than ever then +I dreaded death, nor than the terror more +Had needed, if I had not seen the cords +That held him fast. We, straightway journeying on, +Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete +Without the head, forth issued from the cave. + +“O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made +Great Scipio heir of glory, when his sword +Drove back the troop of Hannibal in flight, +Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoil +An hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought +In the high conflict on thy brethren’s side, +Seems as men yet believ’d, that through thine arm +The sons of earth had conquer’d, now vouchsafe +To place us down beneath, where numbing cold +Locks up Cocytus. Force not that we crave +Or Tityus’ help or Typhon’s. Here is one +Can give what in this realm ye covet. Stoop +Therefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip. +He in the upper world can yet bestow +Renown on thee, for he doth live, and looks +For life yet longer, if before the time +Grace call him not unto herself.” Thus spake +The teacher. He in haste forth stretch’d his hands, +And caught my guide. Alcides whilom felt +That grapple straighten’d score. Soon as my guide +Had felt it, he bespake me thus: “This way +That I may clasp thee;” then so caught me up, +That we were both one burden. As appears +The tower of Carisenda, from beneath +Where it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud +So sail across, that opposite it hangs, +Such then Antaeus seem’d, as at mine ease +I mark’d him stooping. I were fain at times +T’ have pass’d another way. Yet in th’ abyss, +That Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs, +Lightly he plac’d us; nor there leaning stay’d, +But rose as in a bark the stately mast. + + + + +CANTO XXXII + + +Could I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit +That hole of sorrow, o’er which ev’ry rock +His firm abutment rears, then might the vein +Of fancy rise full springing: but not mine +Such measures, and with falt’ring awe I touch +The mighty theme; for to describe the depth +Of all the universe, is no emprize +To jest with, and demands a tongue not us’d +To infant babbling. But let them assist +My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid +Amphion wall’d in Thebes, so with the truth +My speech shall best accord. Oh ill-starr’d folk, +Beyond all others wretched! who abide +In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words +To speak of, better had ye here on earth +Been flocks or mountain goats. As down we stood +In the dark pit beneath the giants’ feet, +But lower far than they, and I did gaze +Still on the lofty battlement, a voice +Bespoke me thus: “Look how thou walkest. Take +Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads +Of thy poor brethren.” Thereupon I turn’d, +And saw before and underneath my feet +A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem’d +To glass than water. Not so thick a veil +In winter e’er hath Austrian Danube spread +O’er his still course, nor Tanais far remote +Under the chilling sky. Roll’d o’er that mass +Had Tabernich or Pietrapana fall’n, + +Not e’en its rim had creak’d. As peeps the frog +Croaking above the wave, what time in dreams +The village gleaner oft pursues her toil, +So, to where modest shame appears, thus low +Blue pinch’d and shrin’d in ice the spirits stood, +Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork. +His face each downward held; their mouth the cold, +Their eyes express’d the dolour of their heart. + +A space I look’d around, then at my feet +Saw two so strictly join’d, that of their head +The very hairs were mingled. “Tell me ye, +Whose bosoms thus together press,” said I, +“Who are ye?” At that sound their necks they bent, +And when their looks were lifted up to me, +Straightway their eyes, before all moist within, +Distill’d upon their lips, and the frost bound +The tears betwixt those orbs and held them there. +Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos’d up +So stoutly. Whence like two enraged goats +They clash’d together; them such fury seiz’d. + +And one, from whom the cold both ears had reft, +Exclaim’d, still looking downward: “Why on us +Dost speculate so long? If thou wouldst know +Who are these two, the valley, whence his wave +Bisenzio slopes, did for its master own +Their sire Alberto, and next him themselves. +They from one body issued; and throughout +Caina thou mayst search, nor find a shade +More worthy in congealment to be fix’d, +Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur’s land +At that one blow dissever’d, not Focaccia, +No not this spirit, whose o’erjutting head +Obstructs my onward view: he bore the name +Of Mascheroni: Tuscan if thou be, +Well knowest who he was: and to cut short +All further question, in my form behold +What once was Camiccione. I await +Carlino here my kinsman, whose deep guilt +Shall wash out mine.” A thousand visages +Then mark’d I, which the keen and eager cold +Had shap’d into a doggish grin; whence creeps +A shiv’ring horror o’er me, at the thought +Of those frore shallows. While we journey’d on +Toward the middle, at whose point unites +All heavy substance, and I trembling went +Through that eternal chillness, I know not +If will it were or destiny, or chance, +But, passing ’midst the heads, my foot did strike +With violent blow against the face of one. + +“Wherefore dost bruise me?” weeping, he exclaim’d, +“Unless thy errand be some fresh revenge +For Montaperto, wherefore troublest me?” + +I thus: “Instructor, now await me here, +That I through him may rid me of my doubt. +Thenceforth what haste thou wilt.” The teacher paus’d, +And to that shade I spake, who bitterly +Still curs’d me in his wrath. “What art thou, speak, +That railest thus on others?” He replied: +“Now who art thou, that smiting others’ cheeks +Through Antenora roamest, with such force +As were past suff’rance, wert thou living still?” + +“And I am living, to thy joy perchance,” +Was my reply, “if fame be dear to thee, +That with the rest I may thy name enrol.” + +“The contrary of what I covet most,” +Said he, “thou tender’st: hence; nor vex me more. +Ill knowest thou to flatter in this vale.” + +Then seizing on his hinder scalp, I cried: +“Name thee, or not a hair shall tarry here.” + +“Rend all away,” he answer’d, “yet for that +I will not tell nor show thee who I am, +Though at my head thou pluck a thousand times.” + +Now I had grasp’d his tresses, and stript off +More than one tuft, he barking, with his eyes +Drawn in and downward, when another cried, +“What ails thee, Bocca? Sound not loud enough +Thy chatt’ring teeth, but thou must bark outright? +What devil wrings thee?”—“Now,” said I, “be dumb, +Accursed traitor! to thy shame of thee +True tidings will I bear.”—“Off,” he replied, +“Tell what thou list; but as thou escape from hence +To speak of him whose tongue hath been so glib, +Forget not: here he wails the Frenchman’s gold. +‘Him of Duera,’ thou canst say, ‘I mark’d, +Where the starv’d sinners pine.’ If thou be ask’d +What other shade was with them, at thy side +Is Beccaria, whose red gorge distain’d +The biting axe of Florence. Farther on, +If I misdeem not, Soldanieri bides, +With Ganellon, and Tribaldello, him +Who op’d Faenza when the people slept.” + +We now had left him, passing on our way, +When I beheld two spirits by the ice +Pent in one hollow, that the head of one +Was cowl unto the other; and as bread +Is raven’d up through hunger, th’ uppermost +Did so apply his fangs to th’ other’s brain, +Where the spine joins it. Not more furiously +On Menalippus’ temples Tydeus gnaw’d, +Than on that skull and on its garbage he. + +“O thou who show’st so beastly sign of hate +’Gainst him thou prey’st on, let me hear,” said I +“The cause, on such condition, that if right +Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are, +And what the colour of his sinning was, +I may repay thee in the world above, +If that, wherewith I speak be moist so long.” + + + + +CANTO XXXIII + + +His jaws uplifting from their fell repast, +That sinner wip’d them on the hairs o’ th’ head, +Which he behind had mangled, then began: +“Thy will obeying, I call up afresh +Sorrow past cure, which but to think of wrings +My heart, or ere I tell on’t. But if words, +That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear +Fruit of eternal infamy to him, +The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once +Shalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst be +I know not, nor how here below art come: +But Florentine thou seemest of a truth, +When I do hear thee. Know I was on earth +Count Ugolino, and th’ Archbishop he +Ruggieri. Why I neighbour him so close, +Now list. That through effect of his ill thoughts +In him my trust reposing, I was ta’en +And after murder’d, need is not I tell. +What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is, +How cruel was the murder, shalt thou hear, +And know if he have wrong’d me. A small grate +Within that mew, which for my sake the name +Of famine bears, where others yet must pine, +Already through its opening sev’ral moons +Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep, +That from the future tore the curtain off. +This one, methought, as master of the sport, +Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf and his whelps +Unto the mountain, which forbids the sight +Of Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachs +Inquisitive and keen, before him rang’d +Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi. +After short course the father and the sons +Seem’d tir’d and lagging, and methought I saw +The sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awoke +Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard +My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask +For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang +Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold; +And if not now, why use thy tears to flow? +Now had they waken’d; and the hour drew near +When they were wont to bring us food; the mind +Of each misgave him through his dream, and I +Heard, at its outlet underneath lock’d up +The’ horrible tower: whence uttering not a word +I look’d upon the visage of my sons. +I wept not: so all stone I felt within. +They wept: and one, my little Anslem, cried: +“Thou lookest so! Father what ails thee?” Yet +I shed no tear, nor answer’d all that day +Nor the next night, until another sun +Came out upon the world. When a faint beam +Had to our doleful prison made its way, +And in four countenances I descry’d +The image of my own, on either hand +Through agony I bit, and they who thought +I did it through desire of feeding, rose +O’ th’ sudden, and cried, ‘Father, we should grieve +Far less, if thou wouldst eat of us: thou gav’st +These weeds of miserable flesh we wear, + +‘And do thou strip them off from us again.’ +Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down +My spirit in stillness. That day and the next +We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth! +Why open’dst not upon us? When we came +To the fourth day, then Geddo at my feet +Outstretch’d did fling him, crying, ‘Hast no help +For me, my father!’ There he died, and e’en +Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three +Fall one by one ’twixt the fifth day and sixth: + +“Whence I betook me now grown blind to grope +Over them all, and for three days aloud +Call’d on them who were dead. Then fasting got +The mastery of grief.” Thus having spoke, + +Once more upon the wretched skull his teeth +He fasten’d, like a mastiff’s ’gainst the bone +Firm and unyielding. Oh thou Pisa! shame +Of all the people, who their dwelling make +In that fair region, where th’ Italian voice +Is heard, since that thy neighbours are so slack +To punish, from their deep foundations rise +Capraia and Gorgona, and dam up +The mouth of Arno, that each soul in thee +May perish in the waters! What if fame +Reported that thy castles were betray’d +By Ugolino, yet no right hadst thou +To stretch his children on the rack. For them, +Brigata, Ugaccione, and the pair +Of gentle ones, of whom my song hath told, +Their tender years, thou modern Thebes! did make +Uncapable of guilt. Onward we pass’d, +Where others skarf’d in rugged folds of ice +Not on their feet were turn’d, but each revers’d. + +There very weeping suffers not to weep; +For at their eyes grief seeking passage finds +Impediment, and rolling inward turns +For increase of sharp anguish: the first tears +Hang cluster’d, and like crystal vizors show, +Under the socket brimming all the cup. + +Now though the cold had from my face dislodg’d +Each feeling, as ’t were callous, yet me seem’d +Some breath of wind I felt. “Whence cometh this,” +Said I, “my master? Is not here below +All vapour quench’d?”—“‘Thou shalt be speedily,” +He answer’d, “where thine eye shall tell thee whence +The cause descrying of this airy shower.” + +Then cried out one in the chill crust who mourn’d: +“O souls so cruel! that the farthest post +Hath been assign’d you, from this face remove +The harden’d veil, that I may vent the grief +Impregnate at my heart, some little space +Ere it congeal again!” I thus replied: +“Say who thou wast, if thou wouldst have mine aid; +And if I extricate thee not, far down +As to the lowest ice may I descend!” + +“The friar Alberigo,” answered he, +“Am I, who from the evil garden pluck’d +Its fruitage, and am here repaid, the date +More luscious for my fig.”—“Hah!” I exclaim’d, +“Art thou too dead!”—“How in the world aloft +It fareth with my body,” answer’d he, +“I am right ignorant. Such privilege +Hath Ptolomea, that ofttimes the soul +Drops hither, ere by Atropos divorc’d. +And that thou mayst wipe out more willingly +The glazed tear-drops that o’erlay mine eyes, +Know that the soul, that moment she betrays, +As I did, yields her body to a fiend +Who after moves and governs it at will, +Till all its time be rounded; headlong she +Falls to this cistern. And perchance above +Doth yet appear the body of a ghost, +Who here behind me winters. Him thou know’st, +If thou but newly art arriv’d below. +The years are many that have pass’d away, +Since to this fastness Branca Doria came.” + +“Now,” answer’d I, “methinks thou mockest me, +For Branca Doria never yet hath died, +But doth all natural functions of a man, +Eats, drinks, and sleeps, and putteth raiment on.” + +He thus: “Not yet unto that upper foss +By th’ evil talons guarded, where the pitch +Tenacious boils, had Michael Zanche reach’d, +When this one left a demon in his stead +In his own body, and of one his kin, +Who with him treachery wrought. But now put forth +Thy hand, and ope mine eyes.” I op’d them not. +Ill manners were best courtesy to him. + +Ah Genoese! men perverse in every way, +With every foulness stain’d, why from the earth +Are ye not cancel’d? Such an one of yours +I with Romagna’s darkest spirit found, +As for his doings even now in soul +Is in Cocytus plung’d, and yet doth seem +In body still alive upon the earth. + + + + +CANTO XXXIV + + +“The banners of Hell’s Monarch do come forth +Towards us; therefore look,” so spake my guide, +“If thou discern him.” As, when breathes a cloud +Heavy and dense, or when the shades of night +Fall on our hemisphere, seems view’d from far +A windmill, which the blast stirs briskly round, +Such was the fabric then methought I saw, + +To shield me from the wind, forthwith I drew +Behind my guide: no covert else was there. + +Now came I (and with fear I bid my strain +Record the marvel) where the souls were all +Whelm’d underneath, transparent, as through glass +Pellucid the frail stem. Some prone were laid, +Others stood upright, this upon the soles, +That on his head, a third with face to feet +Arch’d like a bow. When to the point we came, +Whereat my guide was pleas’d that I should see +The creature eminent in beauty once, +He from before me stepp’d and made me pause. + +“Lo!” he exclaim’d, “lo Dis! and lo the place, +Where thou hast need to arm thy heart with strength.” + +How frozen and how faint I then became, +Ask me not, reader! for I write it not, +Since words would fail to tell thee of my state. +I was not dead nor living. Think thyself +If quick conception work in thee at all, +How I did feel. That emperor, who sways +The realm of sorrow, at mid breast from th’ ice +Stood forth; and I in stature am more like +A giant, than the giants are in his arms. +Mark now how great that whole must be, which suits +With such a part. If he were beautiful +As he is hideous now, and yet did dare +To scowl upon his Maker, well from him +May all our mis’ry flow. Oh what a sight! +How passing strange it seem’d, when I did spy +Upon his head three faces: one in front +Of hue vermilion, th’ other two with this +Midway each shoulder join’d and at the crest; +The right ’twixt wan and yellow seem’d: the left +To look on, such as come from whence old Nile +Stoops to the lowlands. Under each shot forth +Two mighty wings, enormous as became +A bird so vast. Sails never such I saw +Outstretch’d on the wide sea. No plumes had they, +But were in texture like a bat, and these +He flapp’d i’ th’ air, that from him issued still +Three winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depth +Was frozen. At six eyes he wept: the tears +Adown three chins distill’d with bloody foam. +At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ’d +Bruis’d as with pond’rous engine, so that three +Were in this guise tormented. But far more +Than from that gnawing, was the foremost pang’d +By the fierce rending, whence ofttimes the back +Was stript of all its skin. “That upper spirit, +Who hath worse punishment,” so spake my guide, +“Is Judas, he that hath his head within +And plies the feet without. Of th’ other two, +Whose heads are under, from the murky jaw +Who hangs, is Brutus: lo! how he doth writhe +And speaks not! Th’ other Cassius, that appears +So large of limb. But night now re-ascends, +And it is time for parting. All is seen.” + +I clipp’d him round the neck, for so he bade; +And noting time and place, he, when the wings +Enough were op’d, caught fast the shaggy sides, +And down from pile to pile descending stepp’d +Between the thick fell and the jagged ice. + +Soon as he reach’d the point, whereat the thigh +Upon the swelling of the haunches turns, +My leader there with pain and struggling hard +Turn’d round his head, where his feet stood before, +And grappled at the fell, as one who mounts, +That into hell methought we turn’d again. + +“Expect that by such stairs as these,” thus spake +The teacher, panting like a man forespent, +“We must depart from evil so extreme.” +Then at a rocky opening issued forth, +And plac’d me on a brink to sit, next join’d +With wary step my side. I rais’d mine eyes, +Believing that I Lucifer should see +Where he was lately left, but saw him now +With legs held upward. Let the grosser sort, +Who see not what the point was I had pass’d, +Bethink them if sore toil oppress’d me then. + +“Arise,” my master cried, “upon thy feet. +The way is long, and much uncouth the road; +And now within one hour and half of noon +The sun returns.” It was no palace-hall +Lofty and luminous wherein we stood, +But natural dungeon where ill footing was +And scant supply of light. “Ere from th’ abyss +I sep’rate,” thus when risen I began, +“My guide! vouchsafe few words to set me free +From error’s thralldom. Where is now the ice? +How standeth he in posture thus revers’d? +And how from eve to morn in space so brief +Hath the sun made his transit?” He in few +Thus answering spake: “Thou deemest thou art still +On th’ other side the centre, where I grasp’d +Th’ abhorred worm, that boreth through the world. +Thou wast on th’ other side, so long as I +Descended; when I turn’d, thou didst o’erpass +That point, to which from ev’ry part is dragg’d +All heavy substance. Thou art now arriv’d +Under the hemisphere opposed to that, +Which the great continent doth overspread, +And underneath whose canopy expir’d +The Man, that was born sinless, and so liv’d. +Thy feet are planted on the smallest sphere, +Whose other aspect is Judecca. Morn +Here rises, when there evening sets: and he, +Whose shaggy pile was scal’d, yet standeth fix’d, +As at the first. On this part he fell down +From heav’n; and th’ earth, here prominent before, +Through fear of him did veil her with the sea, +And to our hemisphere retir’d. Perchance +To shun him was the vacant space left here +By what of firm land on this side appears, +That sprang aloof.” There is a place beneath, +From Belzebub as distant, as extends +The vaulted tomb, discover’d not by sight, +But by the sound of brooklet, that descends +This way along the hollow of a rock, +Which, as it winds with no precipitous course, +The wave hath eaten. By that hidden way +My guide and I did enter, to return +To the fair world: and heedless of repose +We climbed, he first, I following his steps, +Till on our view the beautiful lights of heav’n +Dawn’d through a circular opening in the cave: +Thus issuing we again beheld the stars. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1005 *** |