HELL

OR THE INFERNO FROM THE DIVINE COMEDY

BY

DANTE ALIGHIERI

TRANSLATED BY

THE REV. H. F. CARY, M. A. 

HELL

Cantos 1 - 34

CANTO I

IN the midway of this our mortal life, I found me in a gloomy wood, astrayGone from the path direct: and e'en to tellIt were no easy task, how savage wildThat forest, how robust and rough its growth, Which to remember only, my dismayRenews, 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'dMy senses down, when the true path I left, But when a mountain's foot I reach'd, where clos'dThe valley, that had pierc'd my heart with dread, I look'd aloft, and saw his shoulders broadAlready 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 standsAt gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'dStruggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits, That none hath pass'd and liv'd. My weary frameAfter short pause recomforted, againI journey'd on over that lonely steep, The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascentBegan, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light, And cover'd with a speckled skin, appear'd, Nor, when it saw me, vanish'd, rather stroveTo check my onward going; that ofttimesWith purpose to retrace my steps I turn'd. 

The hour was morning's prime, and on his wayAloft the sun ascended with those stars, That with him rose, when Love divine first mov'dThose its fair works: so that with joyous hopeAll things conspir'd to fill me, the gay skinOf that swift animal, the matin dawnAnd the sweet season. Soon that joy was chas'd, And by new dread succeeded, when in viewA 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-wolfWas at his heels, who in her leanness seem'dFull of all wants, and many a land hath madeDisconsolate ere now. She with such fearO'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 timeWhen all unwares is gone, he inwardlyMourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I, Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace, Who coming o'er against me, by degreesImpell'd me where the sun in silence rests. 

While to the lower space with backward stepI 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 bothBy country, when the power of Julius yetWas scarcely firm. At Rome my life was pastBeneath the mild Augustus, in the timeOf fabled deities and false. A bardWas I, and made Anchises' upright sonThe 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 pastReturn'st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mountAscendest, cause and source of all delight?""And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring, From which such copious floods of eloquenceHave issued?" I with front abash'd replied. "Glory and light of all the tuneful train!May it avail me that I long with zealHave sought thy volume, and with love immenseHave conn'd it o'er. My master thou and guide!Thou he from whom alone I have deriv'dThat style, which for its beauty into fameExalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled. O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!"

"For every vein and pulse throughout my frameShe hath made tremble. " He, soon as he sawThat I was weeping, answer'd, "Thou must needsAnother way pursue, if thou wouldst 'scapeFrom out that savage wilderness. This beast, At whom thou criest, her way will suffer noneTo 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 vileShe fastens, and shall yet to many more, Until that greyhound come, who shall destroyHer with sharp pain. He will not life supportBy earth nor its base metals, but by love, Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall beThe land 'twixt either Feltro. In his mightShall safety to Italia's plains arise, For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure, Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell. He with incessant chase through every townShall worry, until he to hell at lengthRestore her, thence by envy first let loose. I for thy profit pond'ring now devise, That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guideWill lead thee hence through an eternal space, Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and seeSpirits of old tormented, who invokeA second death; and those next view, who dwellContent in fire, for that they hope to come, Whene'er the time may be, among the blest, Into whose regions if thou then desireT' ascend, a spirit worthier then IMust 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 holdsHis 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 worseI may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst, That I Saint Peter's gate may view, and thoseWho 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'dAll animals on earth; and I alonePrepar'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 vouchsafeYour aid! O mind! that all I saw hast keptSafe in a written record, here thy worthAnd eminent endowments come to proof. 

I thus began: "Bard! thou who art my guide, Consider well, if virtue be in meSufficient, ere to this high enterpriseThou trust me. Thou hast told that Silvius' sire, Yet cloth'd in corruptible flesh, amongTh' immortal tribes had entrance, and was thereSensible 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'dAnd 'stablish'd for the holy place, where sitsWho to great Peter's sacred chair succeeds. He from this journey, in thy song renown'd, Learn'd things, that to his victory gave riseAnd to the papal robe. In after-timesThe 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 whoPermits it? not, Aeneas I nor Paul. Myself I deem not worthy, and none elseWill deem me. I, if on this voyage thenI venture, fear it will in folly end. Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know'st, Than I can speak. " As one, who unresolvesWhat he hath late resolv'd, and with new thoughtsChanges his purpose, from his first intentRemov'd; e'en such was I on that dun coast, Wasting in thought my enterprise, at firstSo eagerly embrac'd. "If right thy wordsI scan, " replied that shade magnanimous, "Thy soul is by vile fear assail'd, which oftSo overcasts a man, that he recoilsFrom noblest resolution, like a beastAt some false semblance in the twilight gloom. That from this terror thou mayst free thyself, I will instruct thee why I came, and whatI heard in that same instant, when for theeGrief touch'd me first. I was among the tribe, Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blestAnd lovely, I besought her to command, Call'd me; her eyes were brighter than the starOf day; and she with gentle voice and softAngelically tun'd her speech address'd:"O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fameYet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts!A friend, not of my fortune but myself, On the wide desert in his road has metHindrance 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 forthAm Beatrice; from a place I come

(Note: Beatrice. I use this word, as it ispronounced in the Italian, as consisting of foursyllables, of which the third is a long one. )

Revisited with joy. Love brought me thence, Who prompts my speech. When in my Master's sightI stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell. "

She then was silent, and I thus began:"O Lady! by whose influence alone, Mankind excels whatever is contain'dWithin 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 lothTo leave that ample space, where to returnThou burnest, for this centre here beneath. "

She then: "Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire, I will instruct thee briefly, why no dreadHinders my entrance here. Those things aloneAre 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 miseryTouches me not, nor flame of that fierce fireAssails me. In high heaven a blessed dameBesides, who mourns with such effectual griefThat 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 aidAnd I commend him to thee. " At her wordSped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe, And coming to the place, where I abodeSeated with Rachel, her of ancient days, She thus address'd me: "Thou true praise of God!Beatrice! why is not thy succour lentTo him, who so much lov'd thee, as to leaveFor 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 speedHaste to their profit, flee from their annoy, As when these words were spoken, I came here, Down from my blessed seat, trusting the forceOf thy pure eloquence, which thee, and allWho well have mark'd it, into honour brings. "

"When she had ended, her bright beaming eyesTearful she turn'd aside; whereat I feltRedoubled 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 mountPrevented. What is this comes o'er thee then?Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy breastHarbour vile fear? why hast not courage thereAnd noble daring? Since three maids so blestThy safety plan, e'en in the court of heaven;And so much certain good my words forebode. "

As florets, by the frosty air of nightBent 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 undertookMy succour! and thou kind who didst performSo soon her true behest! With such desireThou 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 thingsEternal, and eternal I endure. 

"All hope abandon ye who enter here. "

Such characters in colour dim I mark'dOver a portal's lofty arch inscrib'd:Whereat I thus: "Master, these words importHard meaning. " He as one prepar'd replied:"Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave;Here be vile fear extinguish'd. We are comeWhere I have told thee we shall see the soulsTo misery doom'd, who intellectual goodHave lost. " And when his hand he had stretch'd forthTo mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer'd, Into that secret place he led me on. 

Here sighs with lamentations and loud moansResounded 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 whirlsRound 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 raceAre these, who seem so overcome with woe?"

He thus to me: "This miserable fateSuffer the wretched souls of those, who liv'dWithout or praise or blame, with that ill bandOf angels mix'd, who nor rebellious prov'dNor yet were true to God, but for themselvesWere only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth, Not to impair his lustre, nor the depthOf Hell receives them, lest th' accursed tribeShould 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 deathNo hope may entertain: and their blind lifeSo meanly passes, that all other lotsThey 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 cameSuch a long train of spirits, I should ne'erHave thought, that death so many had despoil'd. 

When some of these I recogniz'd, I sawAnd knew the shade of him, who to base fearYielding, abjur'd his high estate. ForthwithI understood for certain this the tribeOf those ill spirits both to God displeasingAnd to his foes. These wretches, who ne'er lived, Went on in nakedness, and sorely stungBy wasps and hornets, which bedew'd their cheeksWith blood, that mix'd with tears dropp'd to their feet, And by disgustful worms was gather'd there. 

Then looking farther onwards I beheldA throng upon the shore of a great stream:Whereat I thus: "Sir! grant me now to knowWhom here we view, and whence impell'd they seemSo eager to pass o'er, as I discernThrough the blear light?" He thus to me in few:"This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arriveBeside 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 speechAbstain'd. And lo! toward us in a barkComes on an old man hoary white with eld, Crying, "Woe to you wicked spirits! hope notEver to see the sky again. I comeTo take you to the other shore across, Into eternal darkness, there to dwellIn fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who thereStandest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leaveThese who are dead. " But soon as he beheldI left them not, "By other way, " said he, "By other haven shalt thou come to shore, Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boatMust 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 cheeksOf him the boatman o'er the livid lake, Around whose eyes glar'd wheeling flames. MeanwhileThose spirits, faint and naked, color chang'd, And gnash'd their teeth, soon as the cruel wordsThey heard. God and their parents they blasphem'd, The human kind, the place, the time, and seedThat did engender them and give them birth. 

Then all together sorely wailing drewTo the curs'd strand, that every man must passWho fears not God. Charon, demoniac form, With eyes of burning coal, collects them all, Beck'ning, and each, that lingers, with his oarStrikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves, One still another following, till the boughStrews all its honours on the earth beneath;

E'en in like manner Adam's evil broodCast 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 bankBe landed, on this side another throngStill 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 fearIs turn'd into desire. Hence ne'er hath pastGood spirit. If of thee Charon complain, Now mayst thou know the import of his words. "

This said, the gloomy region trembling shookSo terribly, that yet with clammy dewsFear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast, That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame, Which all my senses conquer'd quite, and IDown dropp'd, as one with sudden slumber seiz'd. 

CANTO IV

BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crashOf heavy thunder, that I shook myself, As one by main force rous'd. Risen upright, My rested eyes I mov'd around, and search'dWith fixed ken to know what place it was, Wherein I stood. For certain on the brinkI found me of the lamentable vale, The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous soundOf plaints innumerable. Dark and deep, And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vainExplor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern. 

"Now let us to the blind world there beneathDescend;" 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 belowWith pity stains my cheek, which thou for fearMistakest. Let us on. Our length of wayUrges to haste. " Onward, this said, he mov'd;And ent'ring led me with him on the boundsOf the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss. Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heardExcept of sighs, that made th' eternal airTremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from griefFelt by those multitudes, many and vast, Of men, women, and infants. Then to meThe gentle guide: "Inquir'st thou not what spiritsAre these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou passFarther, I would thou know, that these of sinWere blameless; and if aught they merited, It profits not, since baptism was not theirs, The portal to thy faith. If they beforeThe 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 liveDesiring without hope. " So grief assail'dMy heart at hearing this, for well I knewSuspended in that Limbo many a soulOf mighty worth. "O tell me, sire rever'd!Tell me, my master!" I began through wishOf full assurance in that holy faith, Which vanquishes all error; "say, did e'erAny, 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 arriveAmongst 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 blissExalted. 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 nameThose spirits thick beset. We were not farOn this side from the summit, when I kenn'dA flame, that o'er the darken'd hemispherePrevailing shin'd. Yet we a little spaceWere distant, not so far but I in partDiscover'd, that a tribe in honour highThat place possess'd. "O thou, who every artAnd science valu'st! who are these, that boastSuch honour, separate from all the rest?"

He answer'd: "The renown of their great namesThat echoes through your world above, acquiresFavour in heaven, which holds them thus advanc'd. "Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bardSublime! his shade returns that left us late!"No sooner ceas'd the sound, than I beheldFour 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 schoolOf 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 kindBeck'ning me; at the which my master smil'd:Nor was this all; but greater honour stillThey 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'dSpeaking of matters, then befitting wellTo speak, now fitter left untold. At footOf a magnificent castle we arriv'd, Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and roundDefended by a pleasant stream. O'er thisAs o'er dry land we pass'd. Next through seven gatesI with those sages enter'd, and we cameInto a mead with lively verdure fresh. 

There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes aroundMajestically mov'd, and in their portBore eminent authority; they spakeSeldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet. 

We to one side retir'd, into a placeOpen and bright and lofty, whence each oneStood manifest to view. IncontinentThere on the green enamel of the plainWere shown me the great spirits, by whose sightI am exalted in my own esteem. 

Electra there I saw accompaniedBy many, among whom Hector I knew, Anchises' pious son, and with hawk's eyeCaesar all arm'd, and by Camilla therePenthesilea. On the other sideOld King Latinus, seated by his childLavinia, and that Brutus I beheld, Who Tarquin chas'd, Lucretia, Cato's wifeMarcia, 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 readIn nature's secret lore. Orpheus I mark'dAnd Linus, Tully and moral Seneca, Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates, Galenus, Avicen, and him who madeThat commentary vast, Averroes. 

Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimesMy words fall short of what bechanc'd. In twoThe six associates part. Another wayMy 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 thusDown to the second, which, a lesser spaceEmbracing, so much more of grief containsProvoking bitter moans. There, Minos standsGrinning with ghastly feature: he, of allWho 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 severeOf sins, considering what place in hellSuits the transgression, with his tail so oftHimself encircles, as degrees beneathHe dooms it to descend. Before him standAlways a num'rous throng; and in his turnEach one to judgment passing, speaks, and hearsHis fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd. 

"O thou! who to this residence of woeApproachest?" when he saw me coming, criedMinos, relinquishing his dread employ, "Look how thou enter here; beware in whomThou place thy trust; let not the entrance broadDeceive thee to thy harm. " To him my guide:"Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his wayBy destiny appointed; so 'tis will'dWhere 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 voiceSmites on mine ear. Into a place I cameWhere light was silent all. Bellowing there groan'dA noise as of a sea in tempest tornBy warring winds. The stormy blast of hellWith restless fury drives the spirits onWhirl'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 sadThe carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whomReason by lust is sway'd. As in large troopsAnd 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 themIs 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 beheldSpirits, who came loud wailing, hurried onBy their dire doom. Then I: "Instructor! whoAre 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 viceOf luxury was so shameless, that she madeLiking 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 longThe time was fraught with evil; there the greatAchilles, who with love fought to the end. Paris I saw, and Tristan; and besideA thousand more he show'd me, and by namePointed them out, whom love bereav'd of life. 

When I had heard my sage instructor nameThose dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'dBy pity, well-nigh in amaze my mindWas lost; and I began: "Bard! willinglyI 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 windSway'd them toward us, I thus fram'd my speech:"O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourseWith us, if by none else restrain'd. " As dovesBy fond desire invited, on wide wingsAnd 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 forceMy cry prevail'd by strong affection urg'd. 

"O gracious creature and benign! who go'stVisiting, 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 discourseIt pleases thee, that will we hear, of thatFreely 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 descendsTo rest in ocean with his sequent streams. 

"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that fair form, from meTa'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 waitsThe 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 desireMust 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 fateEven 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 knewYour yet uncertain wishes?" She replied:"No greater grief than to remember daysOf joy, when mis'ry is at hand! That kensThy learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerlyIf 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 dayFor our delight we read of Lancelot, How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and noSuspicion near us. Ofttimes by that readingOur eyes were drawn together, and the hueFled from our alter'd cheek. But at one pointAlone we fell. When of that smile we read, The wished smile, rapturously kiss'dBy one so deep in love, then he, who ne'erFrom me shall separate, at once my lipsAll trembling kiss'd. The book and writer bothWere love's purveyors. In its leaves that dayWe read no more. " While thus one spirit spake, The other wail'd so sorely, that heartstruckI through compassion fainting, seem'd not farFrom death, and like a corpse fell to the ground. 

CANTO VI

MY sense reviving, that erewhile had droop'dWith pity for the kindred shades, whence griefO'ercame me wholly, straight around I seeNew torments, new tormented souls, which waySoe'er I move, or turn, or bend my sight. In the third circle I arrive, of show'rsCeaseless, accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang'dFor ever, both in kind and in degree. Large hail, discolour'd water, sleety flawThrough 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 dogOver the multitude immers'd beneath. His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard, His belly large, and claw'd the hands, with whichHe tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbsPiecemeal disparts. Howling there spread, as curs, Under the rainy deluge, with one sideThe other screening, oft they roll them round, A wretched, godless crew. When that great wormDescried us, savage Cerberus, he op'dHis jaws, and the fangs show'd us; not a limbOf him but trembled. Then my guide, his palmsExpanding on the ground, thence filled with earthRais'd them, and cast it in his ravenous maw. 

E'en as a dog, that yelling bays for foodHis keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fallHis fury, bent alone with eager hasteTo swallow it; so dropp'd the loathsome cheeksOf demon Cerberus, who thund'ring stunsThe spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain. 

We, o'er the shades thrown prostrate by the bruntOf the heavy tempest passing, set our feetUpon their emptiness, that substance seem'd. 

They all along the earth extended laySave 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'dOr ere my frame was broken. " I replied:"The anguish thou endur'st perchance so takesThy form from my remembrance, that it seemsAs if I saw thee never. But informMe who thou art, that in a place so sadArt set, and in such torment, that althoughOther be greater, more disgustful noneCan 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 citizensWere wont to name me Ciacco. For the sinOf 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 theseHave 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 citizensOf the divided city; whether any just oneInhabit there: and tell me of the cause, Whence jarring discord hath assail'd it thus?"

He then: "After long striving they will comeTo blood; and the wild party from the woodsWill chase the other with much injury forth. Then it behoves, that this must fall, withinThree solar circles; and the other riseBy borrow'd force of one, who under shoreNow rests. It shall a long space hold aloofIts forehead, keeping under heavy weightThe 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 allOn fire. " Here ceas'd the lamentable sound;And I continu'd thus: "Still would I learnMore 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 bentTheir minds on working good. Oh! tell me whereThey 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 hellBe to their lip assign'd. " He answer'd straight:"These are yet blacker spirits. Various crimesHave 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 PowerAdverse 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 rendThe vault. " So pass'd we through that mixture foulOf spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhileTouching, 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 decidesThat as each thing to more perfection grows, It feels more sensibly both good and pain. Though ne'er to true perfection may arriveThis race accurs'd, yet nearer then than nowThey shall approach it. " Compassing that pathCircuitous we journeyed, and discourseMuch 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'dPlutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd, To comfort me thus spake: "Let not thy fearHarm thee, for power in him, be sure, is noneTo hinder down this rock thy safe descent. "Then to that sworn lip turning, "Peace!" he cried, "Curs'd wolf! thy fury inward on thyselfPrey, and consume thee! Through the dark profoundNot without cause he passes. So 't is will'dOn high, there where the great Archangel pour'dHeav'n's vengeance on the first adulterer proud. "

As sails full spread and bellying with the windDrop 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 woeHems in of all the universe. Ah me!Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap'stNew 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 forthwithRoll'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 handTravers'd the horrid circle: then arriv'd, Both turn'd them round, and through the middle spaceConflicting met again. At sight whereofI, 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 allIn 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 extremityArriving of the circle, where their crimeContrary' in kind disparts them. To the churchWere separate those, that with no hairy cowlsAre crown'd, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whomAv'rice dominion absolute maintains. "

I then: "Mid such as these some needs must be, Whom I shall recognize, that with the blotOf 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 worldDepriv'd, and set them at this strife, which needsNo 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 soulsMight 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 ignoranceBesets you? Now my judgment hear and mark. He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all, The heavens creating, gave them ruling powersTo guide them, so that each part shines to each, Their light in equal distribution pour'd. By similar appointment he ordain'dOver the world's bright images to rule. Superintendence of a guiding handAnd general minister, which at due timeMay change the empty vantages of lifeFrom 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 willDecrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grassThe serpent train. Against her nought availsYour utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans, Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirsThe other powers divine. Her changes knowNore intermission: by necessityShe is made swift, so frequent come who claimSuccession in her favours. This is she, So execrated e'en by those, whose debtTo her is rather praise; they wrongfullyWith blame requite her, and with evil word;But she is blessed, and for that recks not:Amidst the other primal beings gladRolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults. Now on our way pass we, to heavier woeDescending: for each star is falling now, That mounted at our entrance, and forbidsToo long our tarrying. " We the circle cross'dTo the next steep, arriving at a well, That boiling pours itself down to a fossSluic'd from its source. Far murkier was the waveThan sablest grain: and we in companyOf the' inky waters, journeying by their side, Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath. Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expandsThe dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the footOf the grey wither'd cliffs. Intent I stoodTo gaze, and in the marish sunk descriedA miry tribe, all naked, and with looksBetok'ning rage. They with their hands aloneStruck 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 underneathThe water dwells a multitude, whose sighsInto 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 weIn 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 routeThus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'dBetween the dry embankment, and the coreOf the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyesDownward 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 ereWe reach'd the lofty turret's base, our eyesIts height ascended, where two cressets hungWe mark'd, and from afar another lightReturn the signal, so remote, that scarceThe eye could catch its beam. I turning roundTo the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir'd:"Say what this means? and what that other lightIn 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 spiedToward us coming, under the sole swayOf 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'erThe slimy pool we pass. " As one who hearsOf some great wrong he hath sustain'd, whereatInly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin'dIn his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp'dInto the skiff, and bade me enter nextClose at his side; nor till my entrance seem'dThe 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 forthHands to the bark; whereof my teacher sageAware, thrusting him back: "Away! down there;

"To the' other dogs!" then, with his arms my neckEncircling, kiss'd my cheek, and spake: "O soulJustly disdainful! blest was she in whomThou was conceiv'd! He in the world was oneFor arrogance noted; to his memoryNo virtue lends its lustre; even soHere is his shadow furious. There aboveHow many now hold themselves mighty kingsWho here like swine shall wallow in the mire, Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!"

I then: "Master! him fain would I beholdWhelm'd in these dregs, before we quit the lake. "

He thus: "Or ever to thy view the shoreBe offer'd, satisfied shall be that wish, Which well deserves completion. " Scarce his wordsWere ended, when I saw the miry tribesSet on him with such violence, that yetFor that render I thanks to God and praise"To Filippo Argenti:" cried they all:And on himself the moody FlorentineTurn'd his avenging fangs. Him here we left, Nor speak I of him more. But on mine earSudden 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 fireHad issu'd. " He replied: "Eternal fire, That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flameIllum'd; as in this nether hell thou seest. "

We came within the fosses deep, that moatThis region comfortless. The walls appear'dAs they were fram'd of iron. We had madeWide circuit, ere a place we reach'd, where loudThe mariner cried vehement: "Go forth!The' entrance is here!" Upon the gates I spiedMore than a thousand, who of old from heavenWere hurl'd. With ireful gestures, "Who is this, "They cried, "that without death first felt, goes throughThe regions of the dead?" My sapient guideMade sign that he for secret parley wish'd;Whereat their angry scorn abating, thusThey spake: "Come thou alone; and let him goWho 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 darkHast 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 timesSecurity hast render'd me, and drawnFrom 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 noneHath power to disappoint us, by such highAuthority permitted. But do thouExpect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spiritComfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur'dI will not leave thee in this lower world. "

This said, departs the sire benevolent, And quits me. Hesitating I remainAt 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 onceTo trial fled within. Clos'd were the gatesBy those our adversaries on the breastOf my liege lord: excluded he return'dTo me with tardy steps. Upon the groundHis eyes were bent, and from his brow eras'dAll confidence, while thus with sighs he spake:"Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?"Then thus to me: "That I am anger'd, thinkNo ground of terror: in this trial IShall vanquish, use what arts they may withinFor hindrance. This their insolence, not new, Erewhile at gate less secret they display'd, Which still is without bolt; upon its archThou saw'st the deadly scroll: and even nowOn this side of its entrance, down the steep, Passing the circles, unescorted, comesOne whose strong might can open us this land. "

CANTO IX

THE hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeksImprinted, when I saw my guide turn back, Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn, And inwardly restrain'd it. He, as oneWho listens, stood attentive: for his eyeNot far could lead him through the sable air, And the thick-gath'ring cloud. "It yet behoovesWe win this fight"--thus he began--"if not--Such aid to us is offer'd. --Oh, how longMe seems it, ere the promis'd help arrive!"

I noted, how the sequel of his wordsClok'd their beginning; for the last he spakeAgreed not with the first. But not the lessMy fear was at his saying; sith I drewTo import worse perchance, than that he held, His mutilated speech. "Doth ever anyInto this rueful concave's extreme depthDescend, out of the first degree, whose painIs deprivation merely of sweet hope?"

Thus I inquiring. "Rarely, " he replied, "It chances, that among us any makesThis journey, which I wend. Erewhile 'tis trueOnce came I here beneath, conjur'd by fellErictho, sorceress, who compell'd the shadesBack to their bodies. No long space my fleshWas naked of me, when within these wallsShe made me enter, to draw forth a spiritFrom out of Judas' circle. Lowest placeIs that of all, obscurest, and remov'dFarthest from heav'n's all-circling orb. The roadFull well I know: thou therefore rest secure. That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, roundThe city' of grief encompasses, which nowWe may not enter without rage. " Yet moreHe added: but I hold it not in mind, For that mine eye toward the lofty towerHad drawn me wholly, to its burning top. Where in an instant I beheld uprisenAt once three hellish furies stain'd with blood:In limb and motion feminine they seem'd;Around them greenest hydras twisting roll'dTheir volumes; adders and cerastes creptInstead of hair, and their fierce temples bound. 

He knowing well the miserable hagsWho tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake:

"Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the leftThis is Megaera; on the right hand she, Who wails, Alecto; and TisiphoneI' th' midst. " This said, in silence he remain'dTheir breast they each one clawing tore; themselvesSmote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais'd, That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound. "Hasten Medusa: so to adamantHim shall we change;" all looking down exclaim'd. "E'en when by Theseus' might assail'd, we tookNo ill revenge. " "Turn thyself round, and keepThy count'nance hid; for if the Gorgon direBe shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy returnUpwards would be for ever lost. " This said, Himself my gentle master turn'd me round, Nor trusted he my hands, but with his ownHe also hid me. Ye of intellectSound and entire, mark well the lore conceal'dUnder close texture of the mystic strain!

And now there came o'er the perturbed wavesLoud-crashing, terrible, a sound that madeEither shore tremble, as if of a windImpetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung, That 'gainst some forest driving all its might, Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurlsAfar; then onward passing proudly sweepsIts whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly. 

Mine eyes he loos'd, and spake: "And now directThy visual nerve along that ancient foam, There, thickest where the smoke ascends. " As frogsBefore their foe the serpent, through the wavePly swiftly all, till at the ground each oneLies on a heap; more than a thousand spiritsDestroy'd, so saw I fleeing before oneWho 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 aloneBy that annoyance wearied. I perceiv'dThat he was sent from heav'n, and to my guideTurn'd me, who signal made that I should standQuiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how fullOf noble anger seem'd he! To the gateHe came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereatOpen 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 insolenceLodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that willNe'er frustrate of its end, and which so oftHath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?What profits at the fays to but the horn?Your Cerberus, if ye remember, henceBears 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 woreThe semblance of a man by other careBeset, and keenly press'd, than thought of himWho in his presence stands. Then we our stepsToward that territory mov'd, secureAfter the hallow'd words. We unoppos'dThere enter'd; and my mind eager to learnWhat state a fortress like to that might hold, I soon as enter'd throw mine eye around, And see on every part wide-stretching spaceReplete 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 hereExcell'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 beneathFrom them forth issu'd lamentable moans, Such as the sad and tortur'd well might raise. 

I thus: "Master! say who are these, interr'dWithin these vaults, of whom distinct we hearThe dolorous sighs?" He answer thus return'd:

"The arch-heretics are here, accompaniedBy every sect their followers; and much more, Than thou believest, tombs are freighted: likeWith like is buried; and the monumentsAre different in degrees of heat. " This said, He to the right hand turning, on we pass'dBetwixt 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 orbsIn 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 noneO'er them keeps watch. " He thus in answer spake"They shall be closed all, what-time they hereFrom Josaphat return'd shall come, and bringTheir bodies, which above they now have left. The cemetery on this part obtainWith Epicurus all his followers, Who with the body make the spirit die. Here therefore satisfaction shall be soonBoth 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 heartSecreted, but to shun vain length of words, A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself. "

"O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fireAlive art passing, so discreet of speech!Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utteranceDeclares the place of thy nativityTo be that noble land, with which perchanceI too severely dealt. " Sudden that soundForth issu'd from a vault, whereat in fearI somewhat closer to my leader's sideApproaching, he thus spake: "What dost thou? Turn. Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himselfUplifted: from his girdle upwards allExpos'd behold him. " On his face was mineAlready fix'd; his breast and forehead thereErecting, seem'd as in high scorn he heldE'en hell. Between the sepulchres to himMy 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 moodAddress'd me: "Say, what ancestors were thine?"

I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'dThe whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his browSomewhat uplifting, cried: "Fiercely were theyAdverse to me, my party, and the bloodFrom whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroadScatter'd them. " "Though driv'n out, yet they each timeFrom all parts, " answer'd I, "return'd; an artWhich 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 exploreIf there were other with me; but perceivingThat fond imagination quench'd, with tearsThus 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 climeConducted, whom perchance Guido thy sonHad in contempt. " Already had his wordsAnd mode of punishment read me his name, Whence I so fully answer'd. He at onceExclaim'd, up starting, "How! said'st thou he HAD?No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eyeThe blessed daylight?" Then of some delayI made ere my reply aware, down fellSupine, not after forth appear'd he more. 

Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whomI 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'dHer 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 domeSuch orisons ascend. " Sighing he shookThe head, then thus resum'd: "In that affrayI stood not singly, nor without just causeAssuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;But singly there I stood, when by consentOf 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 timeLeads 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 impartsThe' Almighty Ruler; but when they approachOr actually exist, our intellectThen wholly fails, nor of your human stateExcept what others bring us know we aught. Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that allOur knowledge in that instant shall expire, When on futurity the portals close. "

Then conscious of my fault, and by remorseSmitten, I added thus: "Now shalt thou sayTo him there fallen, that his offspring stillIs to the living join'd; and bid him know, That if from answer silent I abstain'd, 'Twas that my thought was occupied intentUpon that error, which thy help hath solv'd. "

But now my master summoning me backI heard, and with more eager haste besoughtThe spirit to inform me, who with himPartook his lot. He answer thus return'd:

"More than a thousand with me here are laidWithin is Frederick, second of that name, And the Lord Cardinal, and of the restI speak not. " He, this said, from sight withdrew. But I my steps towards the ancient bardReverting, ruminated on the wordsBetokening me such ill. Onward he mov'd, And thus in going question'd: "Whence the' amazeThat holds thy senses wrapt?" I satisfiedThe' inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:"Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heardTo 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 lifeThe 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 spaceWent 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 excessOf fetid exhalation, upward castFrom the profound abyss, behind the lidOf a great monument we stood retir'd, Whereon this scroll I mark'd: "I have in chargePope Anastasius, whom Photinus drewFrom the right path. --Ere our descent behoovesWe make delay, that somewhat first the sense, To the dire breath accustom'd, afterwardRegard it not. " My master thus; to whomAnswering I spake: "Some compensation findThat 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 fullOf spirits accurs'd; but that the sight aloneHereafter may suffice thee, listen howAnd for what cause in durance they abide. 

"Of all malicious act abhorr'd in heaven, The end is injury; and all such endEither by force or fraud works other's woeBut fraud, because of man peculiar evil, To God is more displeasing; and beneathThe fraudulent are therefore doom'd to' endureSeverer pang. The violent occupyAll the first circle; and because to forceThree persons are obnoxious, in three roundsHach within other sep'rate is it fram'd. To God, his neighbour, and himself, by manForce may be offer'd; to himself I sayAnd his possessions, as thou soon shalt hearAt full. Death, violent death, and painful woundsUpon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastesBy devastation, pillage, and the flames, His substance. Slayers, and each one that smitesIn malice, plund'rers, and all robbers, henceThe torment undergo of the first roundIn different herds. Man can do violenceTo himself and his own blessings: and for thisHe in the second round must aye deploreWith 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 heartDenying and blaspheming his high power, And nature with her kindly law contemning. And thence the inmost round marks with its sealSodom and Cahors, and all such as speakContemptuously' of the Godhead in their hearts. 

"Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting, May be by man employ'd on one, whose trustHe wins, or on another who withholdsStrict confidence. Seems as the latter wayBroke but the bond of love which Nature makes. Whence in the second circle have their nestDissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries, Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduceTo lust, or set their honesty at pawn, With such vile scum as these. The other wayForgets both Nature's general love, and thatWhich thereto added afterwards gives birthTo 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 discourseProceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasmAnd 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'dAre not these punish'd, if God's wrath be on them?And if it be not, wherefore in such guiseAre they condemned?" He answer thus return'd:"Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind, Not so accustom'd? or what other thoughtsPossess it? Dwell not in thy memoryThe words, wherein thy ethic page describesThree dispositions adverse to Heav'n's will, Incont'nence, malice, and mad brutishness, And how incontinence the least offendsGod, and least guilt incurs? If well thou noteThis judgment, and remember who they are, Without these walls to vain repentance doom'd, Thou shalt discern why they apart are plac'dFrom these fell spirits, and less wreakful poursJustice 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 wordsContinu'd, "where thou saidst, that usuryOffends celestial Goodness; and this knotPerplex'd unravel. " He thus made reply:"Philosophy, to an attentive ear, Clearly points out, not in one part alone, How imitative nature takes her courseFrom the celestial mind and from its art:And where her laws the Stagyrite unfolds, Not many leaves scann'd o'er, observing wellThou shalt discover, that your art on herObsequious follows, as the learner treadsIn his instructor's step, so that your artDeserves the name of second in descentFrom God. These two, if thou recall to mindCreation's holy book, from the beginningWere the right source of life and excellenceTo human kind. But in another pathThe usurer walks; and Nature in herselfAnd in her follower thus he sets at nought, Placing elsewhere his hope. But follow nowMy steps on forward journey bent; for nowThe Pisces play with undulating glanceAlong the' horizon, and the Wain lies allO'er the north-west; and onward there a spaceIs our steep passage down the rocky height. "

CANTO XII

THE place where to descend the precipiceWe came, was rough as Alp, and on its vergeSuch object lay, as every eye would shun. 

As is that ruin, which Adice's streamOn 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'dTo the low level, so the headlong rockIs shiver'd, that some passage it might giveTo him who from above would pass; e'en suchInto the chasm was that descent: and thereAt point of the disparted ridge lay stretch'dThe infamy of Crete, detested broodOf the feign'd heifer: and at sight of usIt gnaw'd itself, as one with rage distract. 

To him my guide exclaim'd: "Perchance thou deem'stThe King of Athens here, who, in the worldAbove, 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 springDarts, at the moment when the fatal blowHath struck him, but unable to proceedPlunges on either side; so saw I plungeThe Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim'd:"Run to the passage! while he storms, 't is wellThat thou descend. " Thus down our road we tookThrough those dilapidated crags, that oftMov'd underneath my feet, to weight like theirsUnus'd. I pond'ring went, and thus he spake:

"Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin'd steep, Guarded by the brute violence, which IHave vanquish'd now. Know then, that when I erstHither 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 spoilOf the highest circle, then through all its boundsSuch 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 oftBeen into chaos turn'd: and in that point, Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down. But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of bloodApproaches, 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 onIn the brief life, and in the eternal thenThus miserably o'erwhelm us. I beheldAn ample foss, that in a bow was bent, As circling all the plain; for so my guideHad told. Between it and the rampart's baseOn 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 bowsAnd missile weapons chosen first; of whomOne cried from far: "Say to what pain ye comeCondemn'd, who down this steep have journied? SpeakFrom whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw. "

To whom my guide: "Our answer shall be madeTo 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. " AroundThe foss these go by thousands, aiming shaftsAt whatsoever spirit dares emergeFrom 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 beardTo the cheek-bone, then his great mouth to viewExposing, to his fellows thus exclaim'd:"Are ye aware, that he who comes behindMoves what he touches? The feet of the deadAre not so wont. " My trusty guide, who nowStood near his breast, where the two natures join, Thus made reply: "He is indeed alive, And solitary so must needs by meBe shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc'dBy 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 stepTo 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 conveyAcross, him mounted on his back; for heIs not a spirit that may walk the air. "

Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thusTo 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, alongThe 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 browImmers'd, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:"These are the souls of tyrants, who were givenTo blood and rapine. Here they wail aloudTheir merciless wrongs. Here Alexander dwells, And Dionysius fell, who many a yearOf woe wrought for fair Sicily. That browWhereon the hair so jetty clust'ring hangs, Is Azzolino; that with flaxen locksObizzo' of Este, in the world destroy'dBy his foul step-son. " To the bard rever'dI turned me round, and thus he spake; "Let himBe to thee now first leader, me but nextTo him in rank. " Then farther on a spaceThe Centaur paus'd, near some, who at the throatWere extant from the wave; and showing usA 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 waveThou 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 handOn Attila, who was the scourge of earth, On Sextus, and on Pyrrhus, and extractsTears ever by the seething flood unlock'dFrom the Rinieri, of Corneto this, Pazzo the other nam'd, who fill'd the waysWith 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 trackOf steps had worn a way. Not verdant thereThe foliage, but of dusky hue; not lightThe boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'dAnd matted thick: fruits there were none, but thornsInstead, with venom fill'd. Less sharp than these, Less intricate the brakes, wherein abideThose animals, that hate the cultur'd fields, Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream. 

Here the brute Harpies make their nest, the sameWho from the Strophades the Trojan bandDrove with dire boding of their future woe. Broad are their pennons, of the human formTheir neck and count'nance, arm'd with talons keenThe feet, and the huge belly fledge with wingsThese sit and wail on the drear mystic wood. 

The kind instructor in these words began:"Ere farther thou proceed, know thou art nowI' th' second round, and shalt be, till thou comeUpon the horrid sand: look therefore wellAround thee, and such things thou shalt behold, As would my speech discredit. " On all sidesI heard sad plainings breathe, and none could seeFrom whom they might have issu'd. In amazeFast bound I stood. He, as it seem'd, believ'd, That I had thought so many voices cameFrom some amid those thickets close conceal'd, And thus his speech resum'd: "If thou lop offA 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 beenThe souls of serpents. " As a brand yet green, That burning at one end from the' other sendsA groaning sound, and hisses with the windThat forces out its way, so burst at once, Forth from the broken splinter words and blood. 

I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as oneAssail'd by terror, and the sage replied:"If he, O injur'd spirit! could have believ'dWhat 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 nowMyself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast;That, for this wrong to do thee some amends, In the upper world (for thither to returnIs granted him) thy fame he may revive. "

"That pleasant word of thine, " the trunk replied"Hath so inveigled me, that I from speechCannot refrain, wherein if I indulgeA little longer, in the snare detain'd, Count it not grievous. I it was, who heldBoth keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards, Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet, That besides me, into his inmost breastScarce 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 eyesFrom Caesar's household, common vice and pestOf 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, soughtRefuge 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 liesYet prostrate under envy's cruel blow. "

First somewhat pausing, till the mournful wordsWere 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'erWill, as thou think'st, content me; for no powerHave I to ask, such pity' is at my heart. "

He thus resum'd; "So may he do for theeFreely what thou entreatest, as thou yetBe pleas'd, imprison'd Spirit! to declare, How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied;And whether any ever from such frameBe loosen'd, if thou canst, that also tell. "

Thereat the trunk breath'd hard, and the wind soonChang'd into sounds articulate like these;

"Briefly ye shall be answer'd. When departsThe fierce soul from the body, by itselfThence torn asunder, to the seventh gulfBy Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls, No place assign'd, but wheresoever chanceHurls it, there sprouting, as a grain of spelt, It rises to a sapling, growing thenceA savage plant. The Harpies, on its leavesThen feeding, cause both pain and for the painA vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall comeFor our own spoils, yet not so that with themWe may again be clad; for what a manTakes from himself it is not just he have. Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughoutThe dismal glade our bodies shall be hung, Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade. "

Attentive yet to listen to the trunkWe stood, expecting farther speech, when usA noise surpris'd, as when a man perceivesThe wild boar and the hunt approach his placeOf station'd watch, who of the beasts and boughsLoud rustling round him hears. And lo! there cameTwo 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 delayExclaiming, "Lano! not so bent for speedThy sinews, in the lists of Toppo's field. "And then, for that perchance no longer breathSuffic'd him, of himself and of a bushOne group he made. Behind them was the woodFull 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 awayThe tortur'd limbs. My guide then seiz'd my hand, And led me to the thicket, which in vainMourn'd through its bleeding wounds: "O GiacomoOf 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 pointsBreath'st out with blood thy lamentable speech?"

He answer'd: "Oh, ye spirits: arriv'd in timeTo spy the shameful havoc, that from meMy leaves hath sever'd thus, gather them up, And at the foot of their sad parent-treeCarefully 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 artTo work her woe: and if there still remain'd notOn Arno's passage some faint glimpse of him, Those citizens, who rear'd once more her wallsUpon 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 landWrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leavesCollected, and to him restor'd, who nowWas hoarse with utt'rance. To the limit thenceWe came, which from the third the second roundDivides, and where of justice is display'dContrivance horrible. Things then first seenClearlier to manifest, I tell how nextA plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bedEach plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves roundIts garland on all sides, as round the woodSpreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wideOf arid sand and thick, resembling mostThe soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod. 

Vengeance of Heav'n! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear'dBy all, who read what here my eyes beheld!

Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, All weeping piteously, to different lawsSubjected: for on the' earth some lay supine, Some crouching close were seated, others pac'dIncessantly around; the latter tribe, More numerous, those fewer who beneathThe torment lay, but louder in their grief. 

O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting downDilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snowOn Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd. As in the torrid Indian clime, the sonOf Ammon saw upon his warrior bandDescending, solid flames, that to the groundCame down: whence he bethought him with his troopTo trample on the soil; for easier thusThe vapour was extinguish'd, while alone;So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewithThe marble glow'd underneath, as under stoveThe viands, doubly to augment the pain. 

Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, Now this, now that way glancing, to shake offThe heat, still falling fresh. I thus began:"Instructor! thou who all things overcom'st, Except the hardy demons, that rush'd forthTo stop our entrance at the gate, say whoIs yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds notThe burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, As by the sultry tempest immatur'd?"

Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'dMy guide of him, exclaim'd: "Such as I wasWhen living, dead such now I am. If JoveWeary his workman out, from whom in ireHe snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last dayTransfix'd me, if the rest be weary outAt their black smithy labouring by turnsIn Mongibello, while he cries aloud;"Help, help, good Mulciber!" as erst he criedIn the Phlegraean warfare, and the boltsLaunch 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'dThan I before had heard him: "Capaneus!Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy prideLives yet unquench'd: no torrent, save thy rage, Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full. "

Next turning round to me with milder lipHe 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 moodIs ornament well suits the breast that wears it. Follow me now; and look thou set not yetThy foot in the hot sand, but to the woodKeep ever close. " Silently on we pass'dTo where there gushes from the forest's boundA little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet liftsMy hair with horror. As the rill, that runsFrom Bulicame, to be portion'd outAmong the sinful women; so ran thisDown through the sand, its bottom and each bankStone-built, and either margin at its side, Whereon I straight perceiv'd our passage lay. 

"Of all that I have shown thee, since that gateWe enter'd first, whose threshold is to noneDenied, 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 worldLiv'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 shoutsHis infant cries. Within the mount, uprightAn ancient form there stands and huge, that turnsHis shoulders towards Damiata, and at RomeAs in his mirror looks. Of finest goldHis head is shap'd, pure silver are the breastAnd 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 whichThan on the other more erect he stands, Each part except the gold, is rent throughout;And from the fissure tears distil, which join'dPenetrate to that cave. They in their courseThus far precipitated down the rockForm Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;Then by this straiten'd channel passing henceBeneath, e'en to the lowest depth of all, Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyselfShall see it) I here give thee no account. "

Then I to him: "If from our world this sluiceBe thus deriv'd; wherefore to us but nowAppears it at this edge?" He straight replied:"The place, thou know'st, is round; and though great partThou have already pass'd, still to the leftDescending to the nethermost, not yetHast 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 streamsOf Phlegethon and Lethe? for of oneThou 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'dOne 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 giveSafe passage, unimpeded by the flames;For over them all vapour is extinct. "

CANTO XV

One of the solid margins bears us nowEnvelop'd in the mist, that from the streamArising, hovers o'er, and saves from fireBoth piers and water. As the Flemings rearTheir mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase backThe ocean, fearing his tumultuous tideThat drives toward them, or the Paduans theirsAlong the Brenta, to defend their townsAnd castles, ere the genial warmth be feltOn Chiarentana's top; such were the mounds, So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to theseMade equal, by the master, whosoe'erHe was, that rais'd them here. We from the woodWere not so far remov'd, that turning roundI might not have discern'd it, when we metA troop of spirits, who came beside the pier. 

They each one ey'd us, as at eventideOne 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 skirtCaught 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 notBut I remember'd him; and towards his faceMy hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto!

"And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My son!Oh let it not displease thee, if BrunettoLatini but a little space with theeTurn 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 throngOne instant stops, lies then a hundred years, No fan to ventilate him, when the fireSmites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I closeWill at thy garments walk, and then rejoinMy troop, who go mourning their endless doom. "

I dar'd not from the path descend to treadOn equal ground with him, but held my headBent 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 lifeSerene, I wander'd in a valley lost, Before mine age had to its fullness reach'd. But yester-morn I left it: then once moreInto 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, IHad 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 crabsIt 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 theeThy fortune hath such honour in reserve, That thou by either party shalt be crav'dWith hunger keen: but be the fresh herb farFrom the goat's tooth. The herd of FesoleMay of themselves make litter, not touch the plant, If any such yet spring on their rank bed, In which the holy seed revives, transmittedFrom 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 yetHadst not been driven forth; for in my mindIs fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heartThe dear, benign, paternal image, suchAs thine was, when so lately thou didst teach meThe 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 onFor 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 rightTurn'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 inquireWho 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 sonFrancesco herds among that wretched throng:And, if the wish of so impure a blotchPossess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen, Who by the servants' servant was transferr'dFrom Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, whereHis ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add, But must from farther speech and onward wayAlike desist, for yonder I beholdA 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 speedFor 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 deemTo 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 threeWhirl'd round together in one restless wheel. As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oil, Are wont intent to watch their place of holdAnd vantage, ere in closer strife they meet;Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenanceAt me directed, so that oppositeThe neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet. 

"If misery of this drear wilderness, "Thus one began, "added to our sad cheerAnd destitute, do call forth scorn on usAnd our entreaties, let our great renownIncline thee to inform us who thou art, That dost imprint with living feet unharm'dThe soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see'stMy steps pursuing, naked though he beAnd reft of all, was of more high estateThan thou believest; grandchild of the chasteGualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd, Who in his lifetime many a noble actAchiev'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 myselfWho in this torment do partake with them, Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wifeOf savage temper, more than aught besideHath to this evil brought. " If from the fireI had been shelter'd, down amidst them straightI then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem, Would have restrain'd my going; but that fearOf 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 doomFix'd deep within me, soon as this my lordSpake words, whose tenour taught me to expectThat such a race, as ye are, was at hand. I am a countryman of yours, who stillAffectionate have utter'd, and have heardYour deeds and names renown'd. Leaving the gallFor the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guideHath promis'd to me. But behooves, that farAs to the centre first I downward tend. "

"So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs, "He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fameShine 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 theeEngender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!"Thus cried I with my face uprais'd, and theyAll three, who for an answer took my words, Look'd at each other, as men look when truthComes to their ear. "If thou at other times, "They all at once rejoin'd, "so easilySatisfy 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 swiftFled, 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 guidePursu'd his track. I follow'd; and small spaceHad we pass'd onward, when the water's soundWas now so near at hand, that we had scarceHeard one another's speech for the loud din. 

E'en as the river, that holds on its courseUnmingled, from the mount of Vesulo, On the left side of Apennine, towardThe east, which Acquacheta higher upThey call, ere it descend into the vale, At Forli by that name no longer known, Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd onFrom 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 takeThe painted leopard. This when I had allUnloosen'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 brinkStanding few paces distant, cast it downInto the deep abyss. "And somewhat strange, "Thus to myself I spake, "signal so strangeBetokens, which my guide with earnest eyeThus follows. " Ah! what caution must men useWith 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 whereofThy 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 notesWhich now I sing, reader! I swear to thee, So may they favour find to latest times!That through the gross and murky air I spiedA shape come swimming up, that might have quell'dThe stoutest heart with wonder, in such guiseAs one returns, who hath been down to looseAn 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 wallsAnd firm embattled spears, and with his filthTaints 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 clawsReach'd to the armpits, and the back and breast, And either side, were painted o'er with nodesAnd orbits. Colours variegated moreNor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of stateWith 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 voidGlancing, 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 courseWe shap'd, and, better to escape the flameAnd burning marle, ten paces on the vergeProceeded. Soon as we to him arrive, A little further on mine eye beholdsA tribe of spirits, seated on the sandNear the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake:"That to the full thy knowledge may extendOf all this round contains, go now, and markThe mien these wear: but hold not long discourse. Till thou returnest, I with him meantimeWill parley, that to us he may vouchsafeThe aid of his strong shoulders. " Thus aloneYet forward on the' extremity I pac'dOf that seventh circle, where the mournful tribeWere seated. At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs. Against the vapours and the torrid soilAlternately their shifting hands they plied. Thus use the dogs in summer still to plyTheir jaws and feet by turns, when bitten soreBy gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round. 

Noting the visages of some, who layBeneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, One of them all I knew not; but perceiv'd, That pendent from his neck each bore a pouchWith 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 swinePictur'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 hereVitaliano 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 pouchWith the three beaks will bring!'" This said, he writh'dThe mouth, and loll'd the tongue out, like an oxThat licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stayHe ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd. 

My guide already seated on the haunchOf the fierce animal I found; and thusHe 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 tailMay 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 heQuivers 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 makesThe servant bold in presence of his lord. 

I settled me upon those shoulders huge, And would have said, but that the words to aidMy 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 gyresOf 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 roundThere 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 PhaetonThe 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 partThe air I view'd, and other object noneSave the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheelsHis downward motion, unobserv'd of me, But that the wind, arising to my face, Breathes on me from below. Now on our rightI heard the cataract beneath us leapWith 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 sideDrew nearer, how our downward course we wound. 

As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despairThe falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!"Wearied descends, and swiftly down the skyIn many an orbit wheels, then lighting sitsAt distance from his lord in angry mood;So Geryon lighting places us on footLow down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock, And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwithSprang forward, like an arrow from the string. 

CANTO XVIII

THERE is a place within the depths of hellCall'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'dWith hue ferruginous, e'en as the steepThat round it circling winds. Right in the midstOf that abominable region, yawnsA spacious gulf profound, whereof the frameDue time shall tell. The circle, that remains, Throughout its round, between the gulf and baseOf the high craggy banks, successive formsTen trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk. 

As where to guard the walls, full many a fossBegirds some stately castle, sure defenceAffording to the space within, so hereWere model'd these; and as like fortressesE'en from their threshold to the brink without, Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low baseThus flinty paths advanc'd, that 'cross the molesAnd dikes, struck onward far as to the gulf, That in one bound collected cuts them off. Such was the place, wherein we found ourselvesFrom Geryon's back dislodg'd. The bard to leftHeld 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. BelowWere 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 returnsOf Jubilee, with better speed to ridThe thronging multitudes, their means deviseFor such as pass the bridge; that on one sideAll front toward the castle, and approachSaint 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 sightWhom soon as view'd; "Of him, " cried I, "not yetMine eye hath had his fill. " With fixed gazeI therefore scann'd him. Straight the teacher kindPaus'd with me, and consented I should walkBackward 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 theeInto this bitter seas'ning?" He replied:"Unwillingly I answer to thy words. But thy clear speech, that to my mind recallsThe world I once inhabited, constrains me. Know then 'twas I who led fair GhisolaTo do the Marquis' will, however fameThe shameful tale have bruited. Nor aloneBologna hither sendeth me to mournRather with us the place is so o'erthrong'dThat 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 thongStruck, and exclaim'd, "Away! corrupter! hereWomen are none for sale. " Forthwith I join'dMy escort, and few paces thence we cameTo where a rock forth issued from the bank. That easily ascended, to the rightUpon its splinter turning, we departFrom those eternal barriers. When arriv'd, Where underneath the gaping arch lets passThe scourged souls: "Pause here, " the teacher said, "And let these others miserable, nowStrike 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 cameFrom 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 wonThe ram from Colchos. To the Lemnian isleHis passage thither led him, when those boldAnd pitiless women had slain all their males. There he with tokens and fair witching wordsHypsipyle 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 deceitTo his have practis'd. And thus much to knowOf the first vale suffice thee, and of thoseWhom its keen torments urge. " Now had we comeWhere, crossing the next pier, the straighten'd pathBestrides 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 themselvesSmite with their palms. Upon the banks a scurfFrom 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'dDraff of the human body. There beneathSearching with eye inquisitive, I mark'dOne 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 stretchThy face, that thou the visage well mayst noteOf 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 lipAnswer'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 prostituteFor gold and silver in adultery!Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yoursIs the third chasm. Upon the following vaultWe now had mounted, where the rock impendsDirectly 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 meedAllotting by thy virtue unto all!

I saw the livid stone, throughout the sidesAnd in its bottom full of apertures, All equal in their width, and circular each, Nor ample less nor larger they appear'dThan in Saint John's fair dome of me belov'dThose 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 thisA seal to undeceive whoever doubtsThe motive of my deed. From out the mouthOf every one, emerg'd a sinner's feetAnd of the legs high upward as the calfThe rest beneath was hid. On either footThe soles were burning, whence the flexile jointsGlanc'd with such violent motion, as had snaptAsunder cords or twisted withs. As flame, Feeding on unctuous matter, glides alongThe surface, scarcely touching where it moves;So here, from heel to point, glided the flames. 

"Master! say who is he, than all the restGlancing in fiercer agony, on whomA ruddier flame doth prey?" I thus inquir'd. 

"If thou be willing, " he replied, "that ICarry 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 quitThy 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 limbQuiv'ring express'd his pang. "Whoe'er thou art, Sad spirit! thus revers'd, and as a stakeDriv'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 shriveA 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 takeThe lovely lady, and then mangle her?"

I felt as those who, piercing not the driftOf answer made them, stand as if expos'dIn 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 knowSo much imports thee, who I am, that thouHast therefore down the bank descended, learnThat in the mighty mantle I was rob'd, And of a she-bear was indeed the son, So eager to advance my whelps, that thereMy having in my purse above I stow'd, And here myself. Under my head are dragg'dThe rest, my predecessors in the guiltOf simony. Stretch'd at their length they lieAlong an opening in the rock. 'Midst themI also low shall fall, soon as he comes, For whom I took thee, when so hastilyI question'd. But already longer timeHath pass'd, since my souls kindled, and I thusUpturn'd have stood, than is his doom to standPlanted 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 whomIn Maccabees we read; and favour suchAs 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 firstOur Lord demanded, when he put the keysInto his charge? Surely he ask'd no moreBut, Follow me! Nor Peter nor the restOr gold or silver of Matthias took, When lots were cast upon the forfeit placeOf 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 yetSeverer speech might use. Your avariceO'ercasts the world with mourning, under footTreading the good, and raising bad men up. Of shepherds, like to you, th' EvangelistWas 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 wrathOr conscience smote him, violent upsprangSpinning on either sole. I do believeMy teacher well was pleas'd, with so compos'dA lip, he listen'd ever to the soundOf the true words I utter'd. In both armsHe caught, and to his bosom lifting meUpward 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'dUpon the rugged rock and steep, a pathNot 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 strainOf the first song, whose awful theme recordsThe spirits whelm'd in woe. Earnest I look'dInto the depth, that open'd to my view, Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheldA tribe, that came along the hollow vale, In silence weeping: such their step as walkQuires chanting solemn litanies on earth. 

As on them more direct mine eye descends, Each wondrously seem'd to be revers'dAt the neck-bone, so that the countenanceWas from the reins averted: and becauseNone might before him look, they were compell'dTo' advance with backward gait. Thus one perhapsHath been by force of palsy clean transpos'd, But I ne'er saw it nor believe it so. 

Now, reader! think within thyself, so GodFruit of thy reading give thee! how I longCould keep my visage dry, when I beheldNear me our form distorted in such guise, That on the hinder parts fall'n from the faceThe tears down-streaming roll'd. Against a rockI 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 allCried out, 'Amphiaraus, whither rushest?'Why leavest thou the war?' He not the lessFell ruining far as to Minos down, Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makesThe breast his shoulders, and who once too farBefore him wish'd to see, now backward looks, And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note, Who semblance chang'd, when woman he becameOf male, through every limb transform'd, and thenOnce more behov'd him with his rod to strikeThe 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 starsAnd main-sea wide in boundless view he held. 

"The next, whose loosen'd tresses overspreadHer bosom, which thou seest not (for each hairOn that side grows) was Manto, she who search'dThrough many regions, and at length her seatFix'd in my native land, whence a short spaceMy words detain thy audience. When her sireFrom life departed, and in servitudeThe city dedicate to Bacchus mourn'd, Long time she went a wand'rer through the world. Aloft in Italy's delightful landA 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 valeCamonica and Garda and the heightOf Apennine remote. There is a spotAt midway of that lake, where he who bearsOf Trento's flock the past'ral staff, with himOf Brescia, and the Veronese, might eachPassing that way his benediction give. A garrison of goodly site and strongPeschiera stands, to awe with front oppos'dThe Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shoreMore slope each way descends. There, whatsoev'erBenacus' bosom holds not, tumbling o'erDown falls, and winds a river flood beneathThrough the green pastures. Soon as in his courseThe steam makes head, Benacus then no moreThey call the name, but Mincius, till at lastReaching Governo into Po he falls. Not far his course hath run, when a wide flatIt finds, which overstretchmg as a marshIt covers, pestilent in summer oft. Hence journeying, the savage maiden saw'Midst of the fen a territory wasteAnd naked of inhabitants. To shunAll human converse, here she with her slavesPlying her arts remain'd, and liv'd, and leftHer body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes, Who round were scatter'd, gath'ring to that placeAssembled; for its strength was great, enclos'dOn all parts by the fen. On those dead bonesThey 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 deceitWas wrong'd of Pinamonte. If thou hearHenceforth another origin assign'dOf that my country, I forewarn thee now, That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth. "

I answer'd: "Teacher, I conclude thy wordsSo certain, that all else shall be to meAs embers lacking life. But now of these, Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou seeAny that merit more especial note. For thereon is my mind alone intent. "

He straight replied: "That spirit, from whose cheekThe beard sweeps o'er his shoulders brown, what timeGraecia was emptied of her males, that scarceThe cradles were supplied, the seer was heIn Aulis, who with Calchas gave the signWhen first to cut the cable. Him they nam'dEurypilus: so sings my tragic strain, In which majestic measure well thou know'st, Who know'st it all. That other, round the loinsSo 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 stillThe thread and cordwain; and too late repents. 

"See next the wretches, who the needle left, The shuttle and the spindle, and becameDiviners: baneful witcheries they wroughtWith images and herbs. But onward now:For now doth Cain with fork of thorns confineOn either hemisphere, touching the waveBeneath the towers of Seville. YesternightThe moon was round. Thou mayst remember well:For she good service did thee in the gloomOf 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, stoodTo view another gap, within the roundOf Malebolge, other bootless pangs. 

Marvelous darkness shadow'd o'er the place. 

In the Venetians' arsenal as boilsThrough wintry months tenacious pitch, to smearTheir unsound vessels; for th' inclement timeSea-faring men restrains, and in that whileHis bark one builds anew, another stopsThe 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 rentSo not by force of fire but art divineBoil'd here a glutinous thick mass, that roundLim'd all the shore beneath. I that beheld, But therein nought distinguish'd, save the surge, Rais'd by the boiling, in one mighty swellHeave, and by turns subsiding and fall. While thereI fix'd my ken below, "Mark! mark!" my guideExclaiming, drew me towards him from the place, Wherein I stood. I turn'd myself as one, Impatient to behold that which beheldHe 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 wingsBuoyant outstretch'd and feet of nimblest tread!His shoulder proudly eminent and sharpWas with a sinner charg'd; by either haunchHe 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! HimWhelm 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'dSped with like eager haste. That other sankAnd forthwith writing to the surface rose. But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge, Cried "Here the hallow'd visage saves not: hereIs 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 downWith flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top. 

Me then my guide bespake: "Lest they descry, That thou art here, behind a craggy rockBend low and screen thee; and whate'er of forceBe offer'd me, or insult, fear thou not:For I am well advis'd, who have been erstIn the like fray. " Beyond the bridge's headTherewith he pass'd, and reaching the sixth pier, Behov'd him then a forehead terror-proof. 

With storm and fury, as when dogs rush forthUpon the poor man's back, who suddenlyFrom whence he standeth makes his suit; so rush'dThose from beneath the arch, and against himTheir weapons all they pointed. He aloud:"Be none of you outrageous: ere your timeDare seize me, come forth from amongst you one, "Who having heard my words, decide he thenIf 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 comeThus far from all your skirmishing secure, "My teacher answered, "without will divineAnd destiny propitious? Pass we thenFor so Heaven's pleasure is, that I should leadAnother through this savage wilderness. "

Forthwith so fell his pride, that he let dropThe instrument of torture at his feet, And to the rest exclaim'd: "We have no powerTo strike him. " Then to me my guide: "O thou!Who on the bridge among the crags dost sitLow crouching, safely now to me return. "

I rose, and towards him moved with speed: the fiendsMeantime all forward drew: me terror seiz'dLest they should break the compact they had made. Thus issuing from Caprona, once I sawTh' infantry dreading, lest his covenantThe foe should break; so close he hemm'd them round. 

I to my leader's side adher'd, mine eyesWith fixt and motionless observance bentOn their unkindly visage. They their hooksProtruding, one the other thus bespake:"Wilt thou I touch him on the hip?" To whomWas 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 usHe added: "Further footing to your stepThis rock affords not, shiver'd to the baseOf 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'dThe circuit of their course, since here the wayWas broken. Thitherward I straight dispatchCertain of these my scouts, who shall espyIf any on the surface bask. With themGo 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 cragUninterrupted 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 markHow they do gnarl upon us, and their scowlThreatens us present tortures?" He replied:"I charge thee fear not: let them, as they will, Gnarl on: 't is but in token of their spiteAgainst the souls, who mourn in torment steep'd. "

To leftward o'er the pier they turn'd; but eachHad 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 seeHorsemen 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 foragersScouring 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'erTo 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 churchWith saints, with gluttons at the tavern's mess. 

Still earnest on the pitch I gaz'd, to markAll things whate'er the chasm contain'd, and thoseWho burn'd within. As dolphins, that, in signTo mariners, heave high their arched backs, That thence forewarn'd they may advise to saveTheir 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 moatStand 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 soonAs Barbariccia was at hand, so theyDrew back under the wave. I saw, and yetMy 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'dHis clotted locks, and dragg'd him sprawling up, That he appear'd to me an otter. EachAlready by their names I knew, so wellWhen they were chosen, I observ'd, and mark'dHow 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 handHis foes have laid. " My leader to his sideApproach'd, and whence he came inquir'd, to whomWas answer'd thus: "Born in Navarre's domainMy 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 tuskIssued on either side, as from a boar, Ript him with one of these. 'Twixt evil clawsThe 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 landUnder 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 beneathWould next have caught, whence angrily their chief, Turning on all sides round, with threat'ning browRestrain'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 hapParting, 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 chargeCommitted to his keeping, play'd the partOf barterer to the height: with him doth herdThe chief of Logodoro, Michel Zanche. Sardinia is a theme, whereof their tongueIs never weary. Out! alas! beholdThat 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 thusQuaking with dread resum'd, "or Tuscan spiritsOr 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 soOur 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 storeOf 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 footWill chase thee, but above the pitch will beatMy plumes. Quit we the vantage ground, and letThe bank be as a shield, that we may seeIf 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 leapEscaping disappointed their resolve. 

Them quick resentment stung, but him the most, Who was the cause of failure; in pursuitHe therefore sped, exclaiming; "Thou art caught. "

But little it avail'd: terror outstripp'dHis following flight: the other plung'd beneath, And he with upward pinion rais'd his breast:E'en thus the water-fowl, when she perceivesThe falcon near, dives instant down, while heEnrag'd and spent retires. That mockeryIn Calcabrina fury stirr'd, who flewAfter him, with desire of strife inflam'd;And, for the barterer had 'scap'd, so turn'dHis talons on his comrade. O'er the dykeIn grapple close they join'd; but the' other prov'dA goshawk able to rend well his foe;

And in the boiling lake both fell. The heatWas umpire soon between them, but in vainTo lift themselves they strove, so fast were gluedTheir pennons. Barbariccia, as the rest, That chance lamenting, four in flight dispatch'dFrom the' other coast, with all their weapons arm'd. They, to their post on each side speedilyDescending, 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 museUpon old Aesop's fable, where he toldWhat fate unto the mouse and frog befell. For language hath not sounds more like in sense, Than are these chances, if the originAnd 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 beenSo foil'd, with loss and mock'ry so complete, As needs must sting them sore. If anger thenBe to their evil will conjoin'd, more fellThey shall pursue us, than the savage houndSnatches the leveret, panting 'twixt his jaws. "

Already I perceiv'd my hair stand allOn end with terror, and look'd eager back. 

"Teacher, " I thus began, "if speedilyThyself and me thou hide not, much I dreadThose evil talons. Even now behindThey urge us: quick imagination worksSo forcibly, that I already feel them. "

He answer'd: "Were I form'd of leaded glass, I should not sooner draw unto myselfThy outward image, than I now imprintThat from within. This moment came thy thoughtsPresented before mine, with similar actAnd count'nance similar, so that from bothI one design have fram'd. If the right coastIncline so much, that we may thence descendInto the other chasm, we shall escapeSecure from this imagined pursuit. "

He had not spoke his purpose to the end, When I from far beheld them with spread wingsApproach to take us. Suddenly my guideCaught me, ev'n as a mother that from sleepIs by the noise arous'd, and near her seesThe climbing fires, who snatches up her babeAnd flies ne'er pausing, careful more of himThan of herself, that but a single vestClings round her limbs. Down from the jutting beachSupine he cast him, to that pendent rock, Which closes on one part the other chasm. 

Never ran water with such hurrying paceAdown 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 feetReach'd to the lowest of the bed beneath, When over us the steep they reach'd; but fearIn 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 downBefore their eyes, in fashion like to thoseWorn by the monks in Cologne. Their outsideWas 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'dTo leftward, on their dismal moan intent. But by the weight oppress'd, so slowly cameThe fainting people, that our companyWas chang'd at every movement of the step. 

Whence I my guide address'd: "See that thou findSome 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 lookImpatient eagerness of mind was mark'dTo overtake me; but the load they bareAnd narrow path retarded their approach. 

Soon as arriv'd, they with an eye askancePerus'd me, but spake not: then turning eachTo other thus conferring said: "This oneSeems, by the action of his throat, alive. And, be they dead, what privilege allowsThey walk unmantled by the cumbrous stole?"

Then thus to me: "Tuscan, who visitestThe 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 balancesTo crack beneath them. Joyous friars we were, Bologna's natives, Catalano I, He Loderingo nam'd, and by thy landTogether taken, as men used to takeA 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, throughoutDistorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard. And Catalano, who thereof was 'ware, Thus spake: "That pierced spirit, whom intentThou view'st, was he who gave the PhariseesCounsel, that it were fitting for one manTo suffer for the people. He doth lieTransverse; nor any passes, but him firstBehoves make feeling trial how each weighs. In straits like this along the foss are plac'dThe father of his consort, and the restPartakers in that council, seed of illAnd sorrow to the Jews. " I noted then, How Virgil gaz'd with wonder upon him, Thus abjectly extended on the crossIn banishment eternal. To the friarHe next his words address'd: "We pray ye tell, If so be lawful, whether on our rightLies any opening in the rock, wherebyWe both may issue hence, without constraintOn the dark angels, that compell'd they comeTo lead us from this depth. " He thus replied:"Nearer than thou dost hope, there is a rockFrom the next circle moving, which o'erstepsEach vale of horror, save that here his copeIs shatter'd. By the ruin ye may mount:For on the side it slants, and most the heightRises below. " With head bent down awhileMy 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 sunTempers his tresses in Aquarius' urn, And now towards equal day the nights recede, When as the rime upon the earth puts onHer dazzling sister's image, but not longHer milder sway endures, then riseth upThe village hind, whom fails his wintry store, And looking out beholds the plain aroundAll whiten'd, whence impatiently he smitesHis 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 hopeSpring in his bosom, finding e'en thus soonThe 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 sawHis troubled forehead, and so speedilyThat ill was cur'd; for at the fallen bridgeArriving, towards me with a look as sweet, He turn'd him back, as that I first beheldAt the steep mountain's foot. Regarding wellThe ruin, and some counsel first maintain'dWith his own thought, he open'd wide his armAnd took me up. As one, who, while he works, Computes his labour's issue, that he seemsStill to foresee the' effect, so lifting meUp to the summit of one peak, he fix'dHis eye upon another. "Grapple that, "Said he, "but first make proof, if it be suchAs will sustain thee. " For one capp'd with leadThis 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 coastWere not less ample than the last, for himI know not, but my strength had surely fail'd. But Malebolge all toward the mouthInclining 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'dFrom 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 shadeOf canopy reposing, fame is won, Without which whosoe'er consumes his daysLeaveth such vestige of himself on earth, As smoke in air or foam upon the wave. Thou therefore rise: vanish thy wearinessBy the mind's effort, in each struggle form'dTo vanquish, if she suffer not the weightOf 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 spentThan I in truth did feel me. "On, " I cried, "For I am stout and fearless. " Up the rockOur way we held, more rugged than before, Narrower and steeper far to climb. From talkI ceas'd not, as we journey'd, so to seemLeast faint; whereat a voice from the other fossDid 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 spakeSeem'd mov'd in anger. Down I stoop'd to look, But my quick eye might reach not to the depthFor shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake:"To the next circle, Teacher, bend thy steps, And from the wall dismount we; for as henceI hear and understand not, so I seeBeneath, and naught discern. "--"I answer not, "Said he, "but by the deed. To fair requestSilent performance maketh best return. "

We from the bridge's head descended, whereTo the eighth mound it joins, and then the chasmOpening to view, I saw a crowd withinOf serpents terrible, so strange of shapeAnd hideous, that remembrance in my veinsYet shrinks the vital current. Of her sandsLet Lybia vaunt no more: if Jaculus, Pareas and Chelyder be her brood, Cenchris and Amphisboena, plagues so direOr in such numbers swarming ne'er she shew'd, Not with all Ethiopia, and whate'erAbove the Erythraean sea is spawn'd. 

Amid this dread exuberance of woeRan 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 headTwisted in folds before. And lo! on oneNear 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 penWrote O or I, he kindled, burn'd, and chang'dTo ashes, all pour'd out upon the earth. When there dissolv'd he lay, the dust againUproll'd spontaneous, and the self-same formInstant resumed. So mighty sages tell, The' Arabian Phoenix, when five hundred yearsHave well nigh circled, dies, and springs forthwithRenascent. Blade nor herb throughout his lifeHe tastes, but tears of frankincense aloneAnd odorous amomum: swaths of nardAnd myrrh his funeral shroud. As one that falls, He knows not how, by force demoniac dragg'dTo earth, or through obstruction fettering upIn chains invisible the powers of man, Who, risen from his trance, gazeth around, Bewilder'd with the monstrous agonyHe hath endur'd, and wildly staring sighs;So stood aghast the sinner when he rose. 

Oh! how severe God's judgment, that deals outSuch blows in stormy vengeance! Who he wasMy teacher next inquir'd, and thus in fewHe answer'd: "Vanni Fucci am I call'd, Not long since rained down from TuscanyTo this dire gullet. Me the beastial lifeAnd 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: onceA man I knew him choleric and bloody. "

The sinner heard and feign'd not, but towards meHis mind directing and his face, whereinWas dismal shame depictur'd, thus he spake:"It grieves me more to have been caught by theeIn this sad plight, which thou beholdest, thanWhen I was taken from the other life. I have no power permitted to denyWhat thou inquirest. I am doom'd thus lowTo dwell, for that the sacristy by meWas 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 realmOpen 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 stormWith arrowy hurtling o'er Piceno's field, Whence suddenly the cloud shall burst, and strikeEach 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 handsPointed in mockery, and cried: "Take them, God!I level them at thee!" From that day forthThe serpents were my friends; for round his neckOne of then rolling twisted, as it said, "Be silent, tongue!" Another to his armsUpgliding, tied them, riveting itselfSo close, it took from them the power to move. 

Pistoia! Ah Pistoia! why dost doubtTo turn thee into ashes, cumb'ring earthNo longer, since in evil act so farThou 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 cameA centaur full of fury, shouting, "WhereWhere is the caitiff?" On Maremma's marshSwarm not the serpent tribe, as on his haunchThey swarm'd, to where the human face begins. Behind his head upon the shoulders lay, With open wings, a dragon breathing fireOn whomsoe'er he met. To me my guide:"Cacus is this, who underneath the rockOf Aventine spread oft a lake of blood. He, from his brethren parted, here must treadA different journey, for his fraudful theftOf the great herd, that near him stall'd; whence foundHis felon deeds their end, beneath the maceOf stout Alcides, that perchance laid onA hundred blows, and not the tenth was felt. "

While yet he spake, the centaur sped away:And under us three spirits came, of whomNor 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 oneHad need to name another. "Where, " said he, "Doth Cianfa lurk?" I, for a sign my guideShould stand attentive, plac'd against my lipsThe finger lifted. If, O reader! nowThou be not apt to credit what I tell, No marvel; for myself do scarce allowThe witness of mine eyes. But as I lookedToward them, lo! a serpent with six feetSprings forth on one, and fastens full upon him:His midmost grasp'd the belly, a forefootSeiz'd on each arm (while deep in either cheekHe flesh'd his fangs); the hinder on the thighsWere spread, 'twixt which the tail inserted curl'dUpon the reins behind. Ivy ne'er clasp'dA dodder'd oak, as round the other's limbsThe 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 twoLook'd on exclaiming: "Ah, how dost thou change, Agnello! See! Thou art nor double now, "Nor only one. " The two heads now becameOne, and two figures blended in one formAppear'd, where both were lost. Of the four lengthsTwo arms were made: the belly and the chestThe thighs and legs into such members chang'd, As never eye hath seen. Of former shapeAll trace was vanish'd. Two yet neither seem'dThat image miscreate, and so pass'd onWith tardy steps. As underneath the scourgeOf the fierce dog-star, that lays bare the fields, Shifting from brake to brake, the lizard seemsA flash of lightning, if he thwart the road, So toward th' entrails of the other twoApproaching 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 fellStretch'd out. The pierced spirit look'd on himBut 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 mouthBreath'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 recordCadmus and Arethusa, to a snakeHim chang'd, and her into a fountain clear, I envy not; for never face to faceTwo natures thus transmuted did he sing, Wherein both shapes were ready to assumeThe other's substance. They in mutual guiseSo answer'd, that the serpent split his trainDivided to a fork, and the pierc'd spiritDrew close his steps together, legs and thighsCompacted, that no sign of juncture soonWas visible: the tail disparted tookThe figure which the spirit lost, its skinSoft'ning, his indurated to a rind. The shoulders next I mark'd, that ent'ring join'dThe monster's arm-pits, whose two shorter feetSo lengthen'd, as the other's dwindling shrunk. The feet behind then twisting up becameThat part that man conceals, which in the wretchWas cleft in twain. While both the shadowy smokeWith a new colour veils, and generatesTh' excrescent pile on one, peeling it offFrom th' other body, lo! upon his feetOne upright rose, and prone the other fell. Not yet their glaring and malignant lampsWere shifted, though each feature chang'd beneath. Of him who stood erect, the mounting faceRetreated towards the temples, and what thereSuperfluous matter came, shot out in earsFrom the smooth cheeks, the rest, not backward dragg'd, Of its excess did shape the nose; and swell'dInto due size protuberant the lips. He, on the earth who lay, meanwhile extendsHis sharpen'd visage, and draws down the earsInto the head, as doth the slug his horns. His tongue continuous before and aptFor utt'rance, severs; and the other's forkClosing unites. That done the smoke was laid. The soul, transform'd into the brute, glides off, Hissing along the vale, and after himThe other talking sputters; but soon turn'dHis new-grown shoulders on him, and in fewThus to another spake: "Along this pathCrawling, as I have done, speed Buoso now!"

So saw I fluctuate in successive changeTh' unsteady ballast of the seventh hold:And here if aught my tongue have swerv'd, eventsSo strange may be its warrant. O'er mine eyesConfusion hung, and on my thoughts amaze. 

Yet 'scap'd they not so covertly, but wellI mark'd Sciancato: he alone it wasOf 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 mightilyHast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wingsThou beatest, and thy name spreads over hell!Among the plund'rers such the three I foundThy 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 longShalt feel what Prato, (not to say the rest)Would fain might come upon thee; and that chanceWere 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 guideRemounting scal'd the flinty steps, which lateWe downward trac'd, and drew me up the steep. Pursuing thus our solitary wayAmong 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 curbThe powers of nature in me, lest they runWhere Virtue guides not; that if aught of goodMy gentle star, or something better gave me, I envy not myself the precious boon. 

As in that season, when the sun least veilsHis face that lightens all, what time the flyGives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant thenUpon some cliff reclin'd, beneath him seesFire-flies innumerous spangling o'er the vale, Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies:With flames so numberless throughout its spaceShone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depthWas to my view expos'd. As he, whose wrongsThe bears aveng'd, at its departure sawElijah's chariot, when the steeds erectRais'd their steep flight for heav'n; his eyes meanwhile, Straining pursu'd them, till the flame aloneUpsoaring 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'dHow I did gaze attentive, thus began:

"Within these ardours are the spirits, eachSwath'd in confining fire. "--"Master, thy word, "I answer'd, "hath assur'd me; yet I deem'dAlready of the truth, already wish'dTo ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comesSo parted at the summit, as it seem'dAscending from that funeral pile, where layThe Theban brothers?" He replied: "WithinUlysses there and Diomede endureTheir penal tortures, thus to vengeance nowTogether hasting, as erewhile to wrath. These in the flame with ceaseless groans deploreThe ambush of the horse, that open'd wideA portal for that goodly seed to pass, Which sow'd imperial Rome; nor less the guileLament they, whence of her Achilles 'reftDeidamia yet in death complains. And there is rued the stratagem, that TroyOf her Palladium spoil'd. "--"If they have powerOf utt'rance from within these sparks, " said I, "O master! think my prayer a thousand foldIn repetition urg'd, that thou vouchsafeTo 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 thouThy 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 placeSeem'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 unfoldIn what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd. "

Of the old flame forthwith the greater hornBegan to roll, murmuring, as a fireThat labours with the wind, then to and froWagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds, Threw out its voice, and spake: "When I escap'dFrom Circe, who beyond a circling yearHad held me near Caieta, by her charms, Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the shore, Nor fondness for my son, nor reverenceOf my old father, nor return of love, That should have crown'd Penelope with joy, Could overcome in me the zeal I hadT' explore the world, and search the ways of life, Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sail'dInto the deep illimitable main, With but one bark, and the small faithful bandThat yet cleav'd to me. As Iberia far, Far as Morocco either shore I saw, And the Sardinian and each isle besideWhich round that ocean bathes. Tardy with ageWere I and my companions, when we cameTo the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'dThe 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 westThrough perils without number now have reach'd, To this the short remaining watch, that yetOur senses have to wake, refuse not proofOf the unpeopled world, following the trackOf Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang:Ye were not form'd to live the life of brutesBut virtue to pursue and knowledge high. With these few words I sharpen'd for the voyageThe mind of my associates, that I thenCould scarcely have withheld them. To the dawnOur poop we turn'd, and for the witless flightMade 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-floorIt rose not. Five times re-illum'd, as oftVanish'd the light from underneath the moonSince the deep way we enter'd, when from farAppear'd a mountain dim, loftiest methoughtOf all I e'er beheld. Joy seiz'd us straight, But soon to mourning changed. From the new landA whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost sideDid strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl'd her roundWith all the waves, the fourth time lifted upThe 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 lightTo speak no more, and now pass'd on with leaveFrom the mild poet gain'd, when following cameAnother, from whose top a sound confus'd, Forth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look. 

As the Sicilian bull, that rightfullyHis cries first echoed, who had shap'd its mould, Did so rebellow, with the voice of himTormented, that the brazen monster seem'dPierc'd through with pain; thus while no way they foundNor 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'dTheir 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 arriveLet it not irk thee here to pause awhile, And with me parley: lo! it irks not meAnd yet I burn. If but e'en now thou fallinto this blind world, from that pleasant landOf Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt, Tell me if those, who in Romagna dwell, Have peace or war. For of the mountains thereWas 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 replyWas ready, and I spake without delay:

"O spirit! who art hidden here below!Never was thy Romagna without warIn 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 plumeO'ershadows Cervia. The green talons graspThe 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 rangeUnder 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 pointOn 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 depthHas found his upward way, I answer thee, Nor fear lest infamy record the words. 

"A man of arms at first, I cloth'd me thenIn good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping soT' have made amends. And certainly my hopeHad 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 pulpMy mother gave me, less my deeds bespakeThe nature of the lion than the fox. All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted, that the soundReach'd the world's limit. Soon as to that partOf life I found me come, when each behovesTo 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 foesAll Christians were, nor against Acre oneHad fought, nor traffic'd in the Soldan's land), He his great charge nor sacred ministryIn himself, rev'renc'd, nor in me that cord, Which us'd to mark with leanness whom it girded. As in Socrate, Constantine besoughtTo cure his leprosy Sylvester's aid, So me to cure the fever of his prideThis man besought: my counsel to that endHe ask'd: and I was silent: for his wordsSeem'd drunken: but forthwith he thus resum'd:'From thy heart banish fear: of all offenceI 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 shutAnd 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 meClear 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 cameSaint Francis for me; but a cherub darkHe 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 heSeiz'd me, and cried, "Thou haply thought'st me notA disputant in logic so exact. "To Minos down he bore me, and the judgeTwin'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 fireMust vanish. Hence perdition-doom'd I roveA prey to rankling sorrow in this garb. "

When he had thus fulfill'd his words, the flameIn 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 overhangsThe foss, wherein the penalty is paidOf those, who load them with committed sin. 

CANTO XXVIII

WHO, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at fullTell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongueSo vast a theme could equal, speech and thoughtBoth impotent alike. If in one bandCollected, stood the people all, who e'erPour'd on Apulia's happy soil their blood, Slain by the Trojans, and in that long warWhen of the rings the measur'd booty madeA pile so high, as Rome's historian writesWho errs not, with the multitude, that feltThe grinding force of Guiscard's Norman steel, And those the rest, whose bones are gather'd yetAt Ceperano, there where treacheryBranded th' Apulian name, or where beyondThy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without armsThe old Alardo conquer'd; and his limbsOne were to show transpierc'd, another hisClean lopt away; a spectacle like thisWere but a thing of nought, to the' hideous sightOf the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lostIts middle or side stave, gapes not so wide, As one I mark'd, torn from the chin throughoutDown to the hinder passage: 'twixt the legsDangling his entrails hung, the midriff layOpen 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 meWalks Ali weeping, from the chin his faceCleft to the forelock; and the others allWhom here thou seest, while they liv'd, did sowScandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent. A fiend is here behind, who with his swordHacks us thus cruelly, slivering againEach of this ream, when we have compast roundThe dismal way, for first our gashes closeEre we repass before him. But say whoArt thou, that standest musing on the rock, Haply so lingering to delay the painSentenc'd upon thy crimes?"--"Him death not yet, "My guide rejoin'd, "hath overta'en, nor sinConducts to torment; but, that he may makeFull trial of your state, I who am deadMust 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 perchanceShalt shortly view the sun, this warning thouBear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish notHere soon to follow me, that with good storeOf food he arm him, lest impris'ning snowsYield him a victim to Novara's power, No easy conquest else. " With foot uprais'dFor stepping, spake Mohammed, on the groundThen fix'd it to depart. Another shade, Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilateE'en from beneath the eyebrows, and one earLopt off, who with the rest through wonder stoodGazing, before the rest advanc'd, and bar'dHis wind-pipe, that without was all o'ersmear'dWith crimson stain. "O thou!" said he, "whom sinCondemns not, and whom erst (unless too nearResemblance do deceive me) I aloftHave seen on Latian ground, call thou to mindPiero of Medicina, if againReturning, thou behold'st the pleasant landThat from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;

"And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boastsHer worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo, That if 't is giv'n us here to scan arightThe future, they out of life's tenementShall be cast forth, and whelm'd under the wavesNear to Cattolica, through perfidyOf a fell tyrant. 'Twixt the Cyprian isleAnd Balearic, ne'er hath Neptune seenAn injury so foul, by pirates doneOr Argive crew of old. That one-ey'd traitor(Whose realm there is a spirit here were fainHis eye had still lack'd sight of) them shall bringTo conf'rence with him, then so shape his end, That they shall need not 'gainst Focara's windOffer up vow nor pray'r. " I answering thus:

"Declare, as thou dost wish that I aboveMay carry tidings of thee, who is he, In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?"

Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-boneOf one, his fellow-spirit, and his jawsExpanding, cried: "Lo! this is he I wot of;He speaks not for himself: the outcast thisWho overwhelm'd the doubt in Caesar's mind, Affirming that delay to men prepar'dWas ever harmful. " Oh how terrifiedMethought was Curio, from whose throat was cutThe tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then oneMaim'd of each hand, uplifted in the gloomThe bleeding stumps, that they with gory spotsSullied his face, and cried: "'Remember theeOf Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim'd, 'The deed once done there is an end, ' that prov'dA 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 thereStill linger'd to behold the troop, and sawThings, such as I may fear without more proofTo tell of, but that conscience makes me firm, The boon companion, who her strong breast-plateBuckles on him, that feels no guilt withinAnd bids him on and fear not. Without doubtI saw, and yet it seems to pass before me, A headless trunk, that even as the restOf the sad flock pac'd onward. By the hairIt bore the sever'd member, lantern-wisePendent 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 headFull in our view, that nearer we might hearThe words, which thus it utter'd: "Now beholdThis grievous torment, thou, who breathing go'stTo spy the dead; behold if any elseBe terrible as this. And that on earthThou mayst bear tidings of me, know that IAm Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King JohnThe counsel mischievous. Father and sonI set at mutual war. For AbsalomAnd David more did not Ahitophel, Spurring them on maliciously to strife. For parting those so closely knit, my brainParted, alas! I carry from its source, That in this trunk inhabits. Thus the lawOf retribution fiercely works in me. "

CANTO XXIX

SO were mine eyes inebriate with viewOf the vast multitude, whom various woundsDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep. 

But Virgil rous'd me: "What yet gazest on?Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight belowAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?Thou hast not shewn in any chasm besideThis weakness. Know, if thou wouldst number themThat two and twenty miles the valley windsIts circuit, and already is the moonBeneath our feet: the time permitted nowIs short, and more not seen remains to see. "

"If thou, " I straight replied, "hadst weigh'd the causeFor which I look'd, thou hadst perchance excus'dThe tarrying still. " My leader part pursu'dHis 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 moreAfflict itself for him. Direct elsewhereIts thought, and leave him. At the bridge's footI mark'd how he did point with menacing lookAt thee, and heard him by the others nam'dGeri of Bello. Thou so wholly thenWert busied with his spirit, who once rul'dThe towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst notThat 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 soHath made me more compassionate his fate. "

So we discours'd to where the rock first show'dThe other valley, had more light been there, E'en to the lowest depth. Soon as we cameO'er the last cloister in the dismal roundsOf Malebolge, and the brotherhoodWere to our view expos'd, then many a dartOf sore lament assail'd me, headed allWith points of thrilling pity, that I clos'dBoth ears against the volley with mine hands. 

As were the torment, if each lazar-houseOf Valdichiana, in the sultry time'Twixt July and September, with the isleSardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen, Had heap'd their maladies all in one fossTogether; such was here the torment: direThe stench, as issuing steams from fester'd limbs. 

We on the utmost shore of the long rockDescended still to leftward. Then my sightWas livelier to explore the depth, whereinThe minister of the most mighty Lord, All-searching Justice, dooms to punishmentThe forgers noted on her dread record. 

More rueful was it not methinks to seeThe nation in Aegina droop, what timeEach 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 anewFrom seed of emmets) than was here to seeThe spirits, that languish'd through the murky valeUp-pil'd on many a stack. Confus'd they lay, One o'er the belly, o'er the shoulders oneRoll'd of another; sideling crawl'd a thirdAlong the dismal pathway. Step by stepWe journey'd on, in silence looking roundAnd list'ning those diseas'd, who strove in vainTo lift their forms. Then two I mark'd, that satPropp'd 'gainst each other, as two brazen pansSet to retain the heat. From head to foot, A tetter bark'd them round. Nor saw I e'erGroom currying so fast, for whom his lordImpatient waited, or himself perchanceTir'd with long watching, as of these each onePlied quickly his keen nails, through furiousnessOf ne'er abated pruriency. The crustCame drawn from underneath in flakes, like scalesScrap'd from the bream or fish of broader mail. 

"O thou, who with thy fingers rendest offThy coat of proof, " thus spake my guide to one, "And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them, Tell me if any born of Latian landBe among these within: so may thy nailsServe thee for everlasting to this toil. "

"Both are of Latium, " weeping he replied, "Whom tortur'd thus thou seest: but who art thouThat 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'dTrembling toward us, with the rest, whose earThose words redounding struck. To me my liegeAddress'd him: "Speak to them whate'er thou list. "

And I therewith began: "So may no timeFilch your remembrance from the thoughts of menIn th' upper world, but after many sunsSurvive 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 broughtTo 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 voidOf wisdom, will'd me to declare to himThe 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 raceLight as Sienna's? Sure not France herselfCan show a tribe so frivolous and vain. "

The other leprous spirit heard my words, And thus return'd: "Be Stricca from this chargeExempted, he who knew so temp'ratelyTo lay out fortune's gifts; and NiccoloWho first the spice's costly luxuryDiscover'd in that garden, where such seedRoots deepest in the soil: and be that troopExempted, with whom Caccia of AscianoLavish'd his vineyards and wide-spreading woods, And his rare wisdom Abbagliato show'dA spectacle for all. That thou mayst knowWho seconds thee against the SienneseThus 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 powerOf alchemy; and if I scan thee right, Thus needs must well remember how I apedCreative nature by my subtle art. "

CANTO XXX

WHAT time resentment burn'd in Juno's breastFor 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 babeLaden on either arm, "Spread out, " he cried, "The meshes, that I take the lionessAnd the young lions at the pass:" then forthStretch'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'dThe hapless mother plung'd: and when the prideOf all-presuming Troy fell from its height, By fortune overwhelm'd, and the old kingWith his realm perish'd, then did Hecuba, A wretch forlorn and captive, when she sawPolyxena first slaughter'd, and her son, Her Polydorus, on the wild sea-beachNext met the mourner's view, then reft of senseDid 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 TroyWith such fell cruelty were seen, their goadsInfixing in the limbs of man or beast, As now two pale and naked ghost I sawThat gnarling wildly scamper'd, like the swineExcluded 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'dHis belly stretch'd out prone. The other shape, He of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake;"That sprite of air is Schicchi; in like moodOf 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 soulOf wretched Myrrha, " he replied, "who burn'dWith most unholy flame for her own sire, "And a false shape assuming, so perform'dThe deed of sin; e'en as the other there, That onward passes, dar'd to counterfeitDonati's features, to feign'd testamentThe seal affixing, that himself might gain, For his own share, the lady of the herd. "

When vanish'd the two furious shades, on whomMine eye was held, I turn'd it back to viewThe other cursed spirits. One I sawIn fashion like a lute, had but the groinBeen sever'd, where it meets the forked part. Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbsWith ill-converted moisture, that the paunchSuits not the visage, open'd wide his lipsGasping 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 regardAdamo's woe. When living, full supplyNe'er lack'd me of what most I coveted;One drop of water now, alas! I crave. The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopesOf Casentino, making fresh and softThe 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 fleshDesert 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 falsifiedThe metal with the Baptist's form imprest, For which on earth I left my body burnt. But if I here might see the sorrowing soulOf Guido, Alessandro, or their brother, For Branda's limpid spring I would not changeThe welcome sight. One is e'en now within, If truly the mad spirits tell, that roundAre 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 moreThan half of one across. They brought me downAmong this tribe; induc'd by them I stamp'dThe florens with three carats of alloy. "

"Who are that abject pair, " I next inquir'd, "That closely bounding thee upon thy rightLie smoking, like a band in winter steep'dIn the chill stream?"--"When to this gulf I dropt, "He answer'd, "here I found them; since that hourThey have not turn'd, nor ever shall, I ween, Till time hath run his course. One is that dameThe 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 forthwithAdamo smote him on the face, the blowReturning with his arm, that seem'd as hard. 

"Though my o'erweighty limbs have ta'en from meThe power to move, " said he, "I have an armAt liberty for such employ. " To whomWas 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 thirstWhence 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 passIts 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 needTo make thee lap Narcissus' mirror up. "

I was all fix'd to listen, when my guideAdmonish'd: "Now beware: a little more. And I do quarrel with thee. " I perceiv'dHow angrily he spake, and towards him turn'dWith shame so poignant, as remember'd yetConfounds me. As a man that dreams of harmBefall'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 speakWish'd to excuse myself, and all the whileExcus'd me, though unweeting that I did. 

"More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame, "My master cried, "might expiate. Therefore castAll sorrow from thy soul; and if againChance bring thee, where like conference is held, Think I am ever at thy side. To hearSuch wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds. "

CANTO XXXI

THE very tongue, whose keen reproof beforeHad wounded me, that either cheek was stain'd, Now minister'd my cure. So have I heard, Achilles and his father's javelin caus'dPain 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. ThereWas twilight dim, that far long the gloomMine eye advanc'd not: but I heard a hornSounded aloud. The peal it blew had madeThe thunder feeble. Following its courseThe adverse way, my strained eyes were bentOn that one spot. So terrible a blastOrlando blew not, when that dismal routO'erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench'dHis saintly warfare. Thitherward not longMy head was rais'd, when many lofty towersMethought I spied. "Master, " said I, "what landIs this?" He answer'd straight: "Too long a spaceOf intervening darkness has thine eyeTo traverse: thou hast therefore widely err'dIn thy imagining. Thither arriv'dThou well shalt see, how distance can deludeThe 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 involvesCondens'd in air; so piercing through the grossAnd gloomy atmosphere, as more and moreWe near'd toward the brink, mine error fled, And fear came o'er me. As with circling roundOf turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls, E'en thus the shore, encompassing th' abyss, Was turreted with giants, half their lengthUprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav'nYet threatens, when his mutt'ring thunder rolls. 

Of one already I descried the face, Shoulders, and breast, and of the belly hugeGreat part, and both arms down along his ribs. 

All-teeming nature, when her plastic handLeft framing of these monsters, did displayPast doubt her wisdom, taking from mad WarSuch slaves to do his bidding; and if sheRepent her not of th' elephant and whale, Who ponders well confesses her thereinWiser and more discreet; for when brute forceAnd evil will are back'd with subtlety, Resistance none avails. His visage seem'dIn length and bulk, as doth the pine, that topsSaint Peter's Roman fane; and th' other bonesOf like proportion, so that from aboveThe bank, which girdled him below, such heightArose his stature, that three FriezelandersHad striv'n in vain to reach but to his hair. Full thirty ample palms was he expos'dDownward from whence a man his garments loops. "Raphel bai ameth sabi almi, "So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymnsBecame not; and my guide address'd him thus:

"O senseless spirit! let thy horn for theeInterpret: therewith vent thy rage, if rageOr other passion wring thee. Search thy neck, There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on. Wild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breastWhere hangs the baldrick!" Then to me he spake:"He doth accuse himself. Nimrod is this, Through whose ill counsel in the world no moreOne tongue prevails. But pass we on, nor wasteOur 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 shadeFar fiercer and more huge. I cannot sayWhat master hand had girt him; but he heldBehind the right arm fetter'd, and beforeThe other with a chain, that fasten'd himFrom the neck down, and five times round his formApparent met the wreathed links. "This proud oneWould of his strength against almighty JoveMake trial, " said my guide; "whence he is thusRequited: Ephialtes him they call. 

"Great was his prowess, when the giants broughtFear 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 eyesOf Briareus immeasurable gain'dExperience next. " He answer'd: "Thou shalt seeNot far from hence Antaeus, who both speaksAnd is unfetter'd, who shall place us thereWhere guilt is at its depth. Far onward standsWhom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and madeLike to this spirit, save that in his looksMore fell he seems. " By violent earthquake rock'dNe'er shook a tow'r, so reeling to its base, As Ephialtes. More than ever thenI dreaded death, nor than the terror moreHad needed, if I had not seen the cordsThat held him fast. We, straightway journeying on, Came to Antaeus, who five ells completeWithout the head, forth issued from the cave. 

"O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that madeGreat Scipio heir of glory, when his swordDrove back the troop of Hannibal in flight, Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoilAn hundred lions; and if thou hadst foughtIn the high conflict on thy brethren's side, Seems as men yet believ'd, that through thine armThe sons of earth had conquer'd, now vouchsafeTo place us down beneath, where numbing coldLocks up Cocytus. Force not that we craveOr Tityus' help or Typhon's. Here is oneCan give what in this realm ye covet. StoopTherefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip. He in the upper world can yet bestowRenown on thee, for he doth live, and looksFor life yet longer, if before the timeGrace call him not unto herself. " Thus spakeThe teacher. He in haste forth stretch'd his hands, And caught my guide. Alcides whilom feltThat grapple straighten'd score. Soon as my guideHad felt it, he bespake me thus: "This wayThat I may clasp thee;" then so caught me up, That we were both one burden. As appearsThe tower of Carisenda, from beneathWhere it doth lean, if chance a passing cloudSo sail across, that opposite it hangs, Such then Antaeus seem'd, as at mine easeI mark'd him stooping. I were fain at timesT' 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 suitThat hole of sorrow, o'er which ev'ry rockHis firm abutment rears, then might the veinOf fancy rise full springing: but not mineSuch measures, and with falt'ring awe I touchThe mighty theme; for to describe the depthOf all the universe, is no emprizeTo jest with, and demands a tongue not us'dTo infant babbling. But let them assistMy song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aidAmphion wall'd in Thebes, so with the truthMy speech shall best accord. Oh ill-starr'd folk, Beyond all others wretched! who abideIn such a mansion, as scarce thought finds wordsTo speak of, better had ye here on earthBeen flocks or mountain goats. As down we stoodIn the dark pit beneath the giants' feet, But lower far than they, and I did gazeStill on the lofty battlement, a voiceBespoke me thus: "Look how thou walkest. TakeGood heed, thy soles do tread not on the headsOf thy poor brethren. " Thereupon I turn'd, And saw before and underneath my feetA lake, whose frozen surface liker seem'dTo glass than water. Not so thick a veilIn winter e'er hath Austrian Danube spreadO'er his still course, nor Tanais far remoteUnder the chilling sky. Roll'd o'er that massHad Tabernich or Pietrapana fall'n, Not e'en its rim had creak'd. As peeps the frogCroaking above the wave, what time in dreamsThe village gleaner oft pursues her toil, So, to where modest shame appears, thus lowBlue 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 feetSaw two so strictly join'd, that of their headThe 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 boundThe tears betwixt those orbs and held them there. Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos'd upSo stoutly. Whence like two enraged goatsThey 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 usDost speculate so long? If thou wouldst knowWho are these two, the valley, whence his waveBisenzio slopes, did for its master ownTheir sire Alberto, and next him themselves. They from one body issued; and throughoutCaina thou mayst search, nor find a shadeMore worthy in congealment to be fix'd, Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur's landAt that one blow dissever'd, not Focaccia, No not this spirit, whose o'erjutting headObstructs my onward view: he bore the nameOf Mascheroni: Tuscan if thou be, Well knowest who he was: and to cut shortAll further question, in my form beholdWhat once was Camiccione. I awaitCarlino here my kinsman, whose deep guiltShall wash out mine. " A thousand visagesThen mark'd I, which the keen and eager coldHad shap'd into a doggish grin; whence creepsA shiv'ring horror o'er me, at the thoughtOf those frore shallows. While we journey'd onToward the middle, at whose point unitesAll heavy substance, and I trembling wentThrough that eternal chillness, I know notIf will it were or destiny, or chance, But, passing 'midst the heads, my foot did strikeWith violent blow against the face of one. 

"Wherefore dost bruise me?" weeping, he exclaim'd, "Unless thy errand be some fresh revengeFor 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 bitterlyStill curs'd me in his wrath. "What art thou, speak, That railest thus on others?" He replied:"Now who art thou, that smiting others' cheeksThrough Antenora roamest, with such forceAs 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 thatI 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 offMore than one tuft, he barking, with his eyesDrawn in and downward, when another cried, "What ails thee, Bocca? Sound not loud enoughThy chatt'ring teeth, but thou must bark outright?What devil wrings thee?"--"Now, " said I, "be dumb, Accursed traitor! to thy shame of theeTrue tidings will I bear. "--"Off, " he replied, "Tell what thou list; but as thou escape from henceTo 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'dWhat other shade was with them, at thy sideIs Beccaria, whose red gorge distain'dThe biting axe of Florence. Farther on, If I misdeem not, Soldanieri bides, With Ganellon, and Tribaldello, himWho op'd Faenza when the people slept. "

We now had left him, passing on our way, When I beheld two spirits by the icePent in one hollow, that the head of oneWas cowl unto the other; and as breadIs raven'd up through hunger, th' uppermostDid so apply his fangs to th' other's brain, Where the spine joins it. Not more furiouslyOn 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 rightWarrant 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 afreshSorrow past cure, which but to think of wringsMy heart, or ere I tell on't. But if words, That I may utter, shall prove seed to bearFruit of eternal infamy to him, The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at onceShalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst beI know not, nor how here below art come:But Florentine thou seemest of a truth, When I do hear thee. Know I was on earthCount Ugolino, and th' Archbishop heRuggieri. Why I neighbour him so close, Now list. That through effect of his ill thoughtsIn him my trust reposing, I was ta'enAnd 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 grateWithin that mew, which for my sake the nameOf famine bears, where others yet must pine, Already through its opening sev'ral moonsHad 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 whelpsUnto the mountain, which forbids the sightOf Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachsInquisitive and keen, before him rang'dLanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi. After short course the father and the sonsSeem'd tir'd and lagging, and methought I sawThe sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awokeBefore the dawn, amid their sleep I heardMy sons (for they were with me) weep and askFor bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pangThou 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 nearWhen they were wont to bring us food; the mindOf each misgave him through his dream, and IHeard, at its outlet underneath lock'd upThe' horrible tower: whence uttering not a wordI 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?" YetI shed no tear, nor answer'd all that dayNor the next night, until another sunCame out upon the world. When a faint beamHad to our doleful prison made its way, And in four countenances I descry'dThe image of my own, on either handThrough agony I bit, and they who thoughtI did it through desire of feeding, roseO' th' sudden, and cried, 'Father, we should grieveFar less, if thou wouldst eat of us: thou gav'stThese weeds of miserable flesh we wear, 'And do thou strip them off from us again. 'Then, not to make them sadder, I kept downMy spirit in stillness. That day and the nextWe all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth!Why open'dst not upon us? When we cameTo the fourth day, then Geddo at my feetOutstretch'd did fling him, crying, 'Hast no helpFor me, my father!' There he died, and e'enPlainly as thou seest me, saw I the threeFall one by one 'twixt the fifth day and sixth:

"Whence I betook me now grown blind to gropeOver them all, and for three days aloudCall'd on them who were dead. Then fasting gotThe mastery of grief. " Thus having spoke, Once more upon the wretched skull his teethHe fasten'd, like a mastiff's 'gainst the boneFirm and unyielding. Oh thou Pisa! shameOf all the people, who their dwelling makeIn that fair region, where th' Italian voiceIs heard, since that thy neighbours are so slackTo punish, from their deep foundations riseCapraia and Gorgona, and dam upThe mouth of Arno, that each soul in theeMay perish in the waters! What if fameReported that thy castles were betray'dBy Ugolino, yet no right hadst thouTo stretch his children on the rack. For them, Brigata, Ugaccione, and the pairOf gentle ones, of whom my song hath told, Their tender years, thou modern Thebes! did makeUncapable of guilt. Onward we pass'd, Where others skarf'd in rugged folds of iceNot on their feet were turn'd, but each revers'd. 

There very weeping suffers not to weep;For at their eyes grief seeking passage findsImpediment, and rolling inward turnsFor increase of sharp anguish: the first tearsHang cluster'd, and like crystal vizors show, Under the socket brimming all the cup. 

Now though the cold had from my face dislodg'dEach feeling, as 't were callous, yet me seem'dSome breath of wind I felt. "Whence cometh this, "Said I, "my master? Is not here belowAll vapour quench'd?"--"'Thou shalt be speedily, "He answer'd, "where thine eye shall tell thee whenceThe cause descrying of this airy shower. "

Then cried out one in the chill crust who mourn'd:"O souls so cruel! that the farthest postHath been assign'd you, from this face removeThe harden'd veil, that I may vent the griefImpregnate at my heart, some little spaceEre it congeal again!" I thus replied:"Say who thou wast, if thou wouldst have mine aid;And if I extricate thee not, far downAs to the lowest ice may I descend!"

"The friar Alberigo, " answered he, "Am I, who from the evil garden pluck'dIts fruitage, and am here repaid, the dateMore luscious for my fig. "--"Hah!" I exclaim'd, "Art thou too dead!"--"How in the world aloftIt fareth with my body, " answer'd he, "I am right ignorant. Such privilegeHath Ptolomea, that ofttimes the soulDrops hither, ere by Atropos divorc'd. And that thou mayst wipe out more willinglyThe glazed tear-drops that o'erlay mine eyes, Know that the soul, that moment she betrays, As I did, yields her body to a fiendWho after moves and governs it at will, Till all its time be rounded; headlong sheFalls to this cistern. And perchance aboveDoth 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 fossBy th' evil talons guarded, where the pitchTenacious boils, had Michael Zanche reach'd, When this one left a demon in his steadIn his own body, and of one his kin, Who with him treachery wrought. But now put forthThy 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 earthAre ye not cancel'd? Such an one of yoursI with Romagna's darkest spirit found, As for his doings even now in soulIs in Cocytus plung'd, and yet doth seemIn body still alive upon the earth. 

CANTO XXXIV

"THE banners of Hell's Monarch do come forthTowards us; therefore look, " so spake my guide, "If thou discern him. " As, when breathes a cloudHeavy and dense, or when the shades of nightFall on our hemisphere, seems view'd from farA windmill, which the blast stirs briskly round, Such was the fabric then methought I saw, To shield me from the wind, forthwith I drewBehind my guide: no covert else was there. 

Now came I (and with fear I bid my strainRecord the marvel) where the souls were allWhelm'd underneath, transparent, as through glassPellucid the frail stem. Some prone were laid, Others stood upright, this upon the soles, That on his head, a third with face to feetArch'd like a bow. When to the point we came, Whereat my guide was pleas'd that I should seeThe 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 thyselfIf quick conception work in thee at all, How I did feel. That emperor, who swaysThe realm of sorrow, at mid breast from th' iceStood forth; and I in stature am more likeA giant, than the giants are in his arms. Mark now how great that whole must be, which suitsWith such a part. If he were beautifulAs he is hideous now, and yet did dareTo scowl upon his Maker, well from himMay all our mis'ry flow. Oh what a sight!How passing strange it seem'd, when I did spyUpon his head three faces: one in frontOf hue vermilion, th' other two with thisMidway each shoulder join'd and at the crest;The right 'twixt wan and yellow seem'd: the leftTo look on, such as come from whence old NileStoops to the lowlands. Under each shot forthTwo mighty wings, enormous as becameA bird so vast. Sails never such I sawOutstretch'd on the wide sea. No plumes had they, But were in texture like a bat, and theseHe flapp'd i' th' air, that from him issued stillThree winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depthWas frozen. At six eyes he wept: the tearsAdown three chins distill'd with bloody foam. At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ'dBruis'd as with pond'rous engine, so that threeWere in this guise tormented. But far moreThan from that gnawing, was the foremost pang'dBy the fierce rending, whence ofttimes the backWas stript of all its skin. "That upper spirit, Who hath worse punishment, " so spake my guide, "Is Judas, he that hath his head withinAnd plies the feet without. Of th' other two, Whose heads are under, from the murky jawWho hangs, is Brutus: lo! how he doth writheAnd speaks not! Th' other Cassius, that appearsSo 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 wingsEnough were op'd, caught fast the shaggy sides, And down from pile to pile descending stepp'dBetween the thick fell and the jagged ice. 

Soon as he reach'd the point, whereat the thighUpon the swelling of the haunches turns, My leader there with pain and struggling hardTurn'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 spakeThe 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'dWith wary step my side. I rais'd mine eyes, Believing that I Lucifer should seeWhere he was lately left, but saw him nowWith 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 noonThe sun returns. " It was no palace-hallLofty and luminous wherein we stood, But natural dungeon where ill footing wasAnd scant supply of light. "Ere from th' abyssI sep'rate, " thus when risen I began, "My guide! vouchsafe few words to set me freeFrom 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 briefHath the sun made his transit?" He in fewThus answering spake: "Thou deemest thou art stillOn th' other side the centre, where I grasp'dTh' abhorred worm, that boreth through the world. Thou wast on th' other side, so long as IDescended; when I turn'd, thou didst o'erpassThat point, to which from ev'ry part is dragg'dAll heavy substance. Thou art now arriv'dUnder the hemisphere opposed to that, Which the great continent doth overspread, And underneath whose canopy expir'dThe Man, that was born sinless, and so liv'd. Thy feet are planted on the smallest sphere, Whose other aspect is Judecca. MornHere 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 downFrom heav'n; and th' earth, here prominent before, Through fear of him did veil her with the sea, And to our hemisphere retir'd. PerchanceTo shun him was the vacant space left hereBy what of firm land on this side appears, That sprang aloof. " There is a place beneath, From Belzebub as distant, as extendsThe vaulted tomb, discover'd not by sight, But by the sound of brooklet, that descendsThis way along the hollow of a rock, Which, as it winds with no precipitous course, The wave hath eaten. By that hidden wayMy guide and I did enter, to returnTo the fair world: and heedless of reposeWe climbed, he first, I following his steps, Till on our view the beautiful lights of heav'nDawn'd through a circular opening in the cave:Thus issuing we again beheld the stars.