Dante Alighieri
The Divine Comedy
of Dante Alighieri
translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Canticle I: Inferno

Canto XII

The place where to descend the bank we came
  Was alpine, and from what was there, moreover,
  Of such a kind that every eye would shun it.

Such as that ruin is which in the flank
  Smote, on this side of Trent, the Adige,
  Either by earthquake or by failing stay,

For from the mountain’s top, from which it moved,
  Unto the plain the cliff is shattered so,
  Some path ‘twould give to him who was above;

Even such was the descent of that ravine,
  And on the border of the broken chasm
  The infamy of Crete was stretched along,

Who was conceived in the fictitious cow;
  And when he us beheld, he bit himself,
  Even as one whom anger racks within.

My Sage towards him shouted: “Peradventure
  Thou think’st that here may be the Duke of Athens,
  Who in the world above brought death to thee?

Get thee gone, beast, for this one cometh not
  Instructed by thy sister, but he comes
  In order to behold your punishments.”

As is that bull who breaks loose at the moment
  In which he has received the mortal blow,
  Who cannot walk, but staggers here and there,

The Minotaur beheld I do the like;
  And he, the wary, cried: “Run to the passage;
  While he wroth, ’tis well thou shouldst descend.”

Thus down we took our way o’er that discharge
  Of stones, which oftentimes did move themselves
  Beneath my feet, from the unwonted burden.

Thoughtful I went; and he said: “Thou art thinking
  Perhaps upon this ruin, which is guarded
  By that brute anger which just now I quenched.

Now will I have thee know, the other time
  I here descended to the nether Hell,
  This precipice had not yet fallen down.

But truly, if I well discern, a little
  Before His coming who the mighty spoil
  Bore off from Dis, in the supernal circle,

Upon all sides the deep and loathsome valley
  Trembled so, that I thought the Universe
  Was thrilled with love, by which there are who think

The world ofttimes converted into chaos;
  And at that moment this primeval crag
  Both here and elsewhere made such overthrow.

But fix thine eyes below; for draweth near
  The river of blood, within which boiling is
  Whoe’er by violence doth injure others.”

O blind cupidity, O wrath insane,
  That spurs us onward so in our short life,
  And in the eternal then so badly steeps us!

I saw an ample moat bent like a bow,
  As one which all the plain encompasses,
  Conformable to what my Guide had said.

And between this and the embankment’s foot
  Centaurs in file were running, armed with arrows,
  As in the world they used the chase to follow.

Beholding us descend, each one stood still,
  And from the squadron three detached themselves,
  With bows and arrows in advance selected;

And from afar one cried: “Unto what torment
  Come ye, who down the hillside are descending?
  Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow.”

My Master said: “Our answer will we make
  To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour,
  That will of thine was evermore so hasty.”

Then touched he me, and said: “This one is Nessus,
  Who perished for the lovely Dejanira,
  And for himself, himself did vengeance take.

And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing,
  Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles;
  That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.

Thousands and thousands go about the moat
  Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges
  Out of the blood, more than his crime allots.”

Near we approached unto those monsters fleet;
  Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch
  Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.

After he had uncovered his great mouth,
  He said to his companions: “Are you ware
  That he behind moveth whate’er he touches?

Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men.”
  And my good Guide, who now was at his breast,
  Where the two natures are together joined,

Replied: “Indeed he lives, and thus alone
  Me it behoves to show him the dark valley;
  Necessity, and not delight, impels us.

Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja,
  Who unto me committed this new office;
  No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.

But by that virtue through which I am moving
  My steps along this savage thoroughfare,
  Give us some one of thine, to be with us,

And who may show us where to pass the ford,
  And who may carry this one on his back;
  For ’tis no spirit that can walk the air.”

Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about,
  And said to Nessus: “Turn and do thou guide them,
  And warn aside, if other band may meet you.”

We with our faithful escort onward moved
  Along the brink of the vermilion boiling,
  Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.

People I saw within up to the eyebrows,
  And the great Centaur said: “Tyrants are these,
  Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.

Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here
  Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius
  Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.

That forehead there which has the hair so black
  Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond,
  Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,

Up in the world was by his stepson slain.”
  Then turned I to the Poet; and he said,
  “Now he be first to thee, and second I.”

A little farther on the Centaur stopped
  Above a folk, who far down as the throat
  Seemed from that boiling stream to issue forth.

A shade he showed us on one side alone,
  Saying: “He cleft asunder in God’s bosom
  The heart that still upon the Thames is honoured.”

Then people saw I, who from out the river
  Lifted their heads and also all the chest;
  And many among these I recognised.

Thus ever more and more grew shallower
  That blood, so that the feet alone it covered;
  And there across the moat our passage was.

“Even as thou here upon this side beholdest
  The boiling stream, that aye diminishes,”
  The Centaur said, “I wish thee to believe

That on this other more and more declines
  Its bed, until it reunites itself
  Where it behoveth tyranny to groan.

Justice divine, upon this side, is goading
  That Attila, who was a scourge on earth,
  And Pyrrhus, and Sextus; and for ever milks

The tears which with the boiling it unseals
  In Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo,
  Who made upon the highways so much war.”

Then back he turned, and passed again the ford.



Canto XIII

Not yet had Nessus reached the other side,
  When we had put ourselves within a wood,
  That was not marked by any path whatever.

Not foliage green, but of a dusky colour,
  Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled,
  Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.

Such tangled thickets have not, nor so dense,
  Those savage wild beasts, that in hatred hold
  ‘Twixt Cecina and Corne
to the tilled places.

There do the hideous Harpies make their nests,
  Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades,
  With sad announcement of impending doom;

Broad wings have they, and necks and faces human,
  And feet with claws, and their great bellies fledged;
  They make laments upon the wondrous trees.

And the good Master: “Ere thou enter farther,
  Know that thou art within the second round,”
  Thus he began to say, “and shalt be, till

Thou comest out upon the horrible sand;
  Therefore look well around, and thou shalt see
  Things that will credence give unto my speech.”

I heard on all sides lamentations uttered,
  And person none beheld I who might make them,
  Whence, utterly bewildered, I stood still.

I think he thought that I perhaps might think
  So many voices issued through those trunks
  From people who concealed themselves from us;

Therefore the Master said: “If thou break off
  Some little spray from any of these trees,
  The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain.”

Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward,
  And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn;
  And the trunk cried, “Why dost thou mangle me?”

After it had become embrowned with blood,
  It recommenced its cry: “Why dost thou rend me?
  Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever?

Men once we were, and now are changed to trees;
  Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful,
  Even if the souls of serpents we had been.”

As out of a green brand, that is on fire
  At one of the ends, and from the other drips
  And hisses with the wind that is escaping;

So from that splinter issued forth together
  Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip
  Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid.

“Had he been able sooner to believe,”
  My Sage made answer, “O thou wounded soul,
  What only in my verses he has seen,

Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand;
  Whereas the thing incredible has caused me
  To put him to an act which grieveth me.

But tell him who thou wast, so that by way
  Of some amends thy fame he may refresh
  Up in the world, to which he can return.”

And the trunk said: “So thy sweet words allure me,
  I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not,
  That I a little to discourse am tempted.

I am the one who both keys had in keeping
  Of Frederick’s heart, and turned them to and fro
  So softly in unlocking and in locking,

That from his secrets most men I withheld;
  Fidelity I bore the glorious office
  So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses.

The courtesan who never from the dwelling
  Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes,
  Death universal and the vice of courts,

Inflamed against me all the other minds,
  And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus,
  That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings.

My spirit, in disdainful exultation,
  Thinking by dying to escape disdain,
  Made me unjust against myself, the just.

I, by the roots unwonted of this wood,
  Do swear to you that never broke I faith
  Unto my lord, who was so worthy of honour;

And to the world if one of you return,
  Let him my memory comfort, which is lying
  Still prostrate from the blow that envy dealt it.”

Waited awhile, and then: “Since he is silent,”
  The Poet said to me, “lose not the time,
  But speak, and question him, if more may please thee.”

Whence I to him: “Do thou again inquire
  Concerning what thou thinks’t will satisfy me;
  For I cannot, such pity is in my heart.”

Therefore he recommenced: “So may the man
  Do for thee freely what thy speech implores,
  Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased

To tell us in what way the soul is bound
  Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst,
  If any from such members e’er is freed.”

Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward
  The wind was into such a voice converted:
  “With brevity shall be replied to you.

When the exasperated soul abandons
  The body whence it rent itself away,
  Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.

It falls into the forest, and no part
  Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it,
  There like a grain of spelt it germinates.

It springs a sapling, and a forest tree;
  The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves,
  Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.

Like others for our spoils shall we return;
  But not that any one may them revest,
  For ’tis not just to have what one casts off.

Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal
  Forest our bodies shall suspended be,
  Each to the thorn of his molested shade.”

We were attentive still unto the trunk,
  Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us,
  When by a tumult we were overtaken,

In the same way as he is who perceives
  The boar and chase approaching to his stand,
  Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;

And two behold! upon our left-hand side,
  Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously,
  That of the forest, every fan they broke.

He who was in advance: “Now help, Death, help!”
  And the other one, who seemed to lag too much,
  Was shouting: “Lano, were not so alert

Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!”
  And then, perchance because his breath was failing,
  He grouped himself together with a bush.

Behind them was the forest full of black
  She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot
  As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.

On him who had crouched down they set their teeth,
  And him they lacerated piece by piece,
  Thereafter bore away those aching members.

Thereat my Escort took me by the hand,
  And led me to the bush, that all in vain
  Was weeping from its bloody lacerations.

“O Jacopo,” it said, “of Sant’ Andrea,
  What helped it thee of me to make a screen?
  What blame have I in thy nefarious life?”

When near him had the Master stayed his steps,
  He said: “Who wast thou, that through wounds so many
  Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?”

And he to us: “O souls, that hither come
  To look upon the shameful massacre
  That has so rent away from me my leaves,

Gather them up beneath the dismal bush;
  I of that city was which to the Baptist
  Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this

Forever with his art will make it sad.
  And were it not that on the pass of Arno
  Some glimpses of him are remaining still,

Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it
  Upon the ashes left by Attila,
  In vain had caused their labour to be done.

Of my own house I made myself a gibbet.”



Canto XIV

Because the charity of my native place
  Constrained me, gathered I the scattered leaves,
  And gave them back to him, who now was hoarse.

Then came we to the confine, where disparted
  The second round is from the third, and where
  A horrible form of Justice is beheld.

Clearly to manifest these novel things,
  I say that we arrived upon a plain,
  Which from its bed rejecteth every plant;

The dolorous forest is a garland to it
  All round about, as the sad moat to that;
  There close upon the edge we stayed our feet.

The soil was of an arid and thick sand,
  Not of another fashion made than th
at
  Which by the feet of Cato once was pressed.

Vengeance of God, O how much oughtest thou
  By each one to be dreaded, who doth read
  That which was manifest unto mine eyes!

Of naked souls beheld I many herds,
  Who all were weeping very miserably,
  And over them seemed set a law diverse.

Supine upon the ground some folk were lying;
  And some were sitting all drawn up together,
  And others went about continually.

Those who were going round were far the more,
  And those were less who lay down to their torment,
  But had their tongues more loosed to lamentation.

O’er all the sand-waste, with a gradual fall,
  Were raining down dilated flakes of fire,
  As of the snow on Alp without a wind.

As Alexander, in those torrid parts
  Of India, beheld upon his host
  Flames fall unbroken till they reached the ground.

Whence he provided with his phalanxes
  To trample down the soil, because the vapour
  Better extinguished was while it was single;

Thus was descending the eternal heat,
  Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder
  Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.

Without repose forever was the dance
  Of miserable hands, now there, now here,
  Shaking away from off them the fresh gleeds.

“Master,” began I, “thou who overcomest
  All things except the demons dire, that issued
  Against us at the entrance of the gate,

Who is that mighty one who seems to heed not
  The fire, and lieth lowering and disdainful,
  So that the rain seems not to ripen him?”

And he himself, who had become aware
  That I was questioning my Guide about him,
  Cried: “Such as I was living, am I, dead.

If Jove should weary out his smith, from whom
  He seized in anger the sharp thunderbolt,
  Wherewith upon the last day I was smitten,

And if he wearied out by turns the others
  In Mongibello at the swarthy forge,
  Vociferating, ‘Help, good Vulcan, help!’

Even as he did there at the fight of Phlegra,
  And shot his bolts at me with all his might,
  He would not have thereby a joyous vengeance.”

Then did my Leader speak with such great force,
  That I had never heard him speak so loud:
  “O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished

Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;
  Not any torment, saving thine own rage,
  Would be unto thy fury pain complete.”

Then he turned round to me with better lip,
  Saying: “One of the Seven Kings was he
  Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold

God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;
  But, as I said to him, his own despites
  Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.

Now follow me, and mind thou do not place
  As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,
  But always keep them close unto the wood.”

Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes
  Forth from the wood a little rivulet,
  Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.

As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,
  The sinful women later share among them,
  So downward through the sand it went its way.

The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,
  Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;
  Whence I perceived that there the passage was.

“In all the rest which I have shown to thee
  Since we have entered in within the gate
  Whose threshold unto no one is denied,

Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes
  So notable as is the present river,
  Which all the little flames above it quenches.”

These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him
  That he would give me largess of the food,
  For which he had given me largess of desire.

“In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,”
  Said he thereafterward, “whose name is Crete,
  Under whose king the world of old was chaste.

There is a mountain there, that once was glad
  With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;
  Now ’tis deserted, as a thing worn out.

Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle
  Of her own son; and to conceal him better,
  Whene’er he cried, she there had clamours made.

A grand old man stands in the mount erect,
  Who holds his shoulders turned tow’rds Damietta,
  And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.

His head is fashioned of refined gold,
  And of pure silver are the arms and breast;
  Then he is brass as far down as the fork.

From that point downward all is chosen iron,
  Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,
  And more he stands on that than on the other.

Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure
  Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,
  Which gathered together perforate that cavern.

From rock to rock they fall into this valley;
  Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;
  Then downward go along this narrow sluice

Unto that point where is no more descending.
  They form Cocytus; what that pool may be
  Thou shalt behold, so here ’tis not narrated.”

And I to him: “If so the present runnel
  Doth take its rise in this way from our world,
  Why only on this verge appears it to us?”

And he to me: “Thou knowest the place is round,
  And notwithstanding thou hast journeyed far,
  Still to the left descending to the bottom,

Thou hast not yet through all the circle turned.
  Therefore if something new appear to us,
  It should not bring amazement to thy face.”

And I again: “Master, where shall be found
  Lethe and Phlegethon, for of one thou’rt silent,
  And sayest the other of this rain is made?”

“In all thy questions truly thou dost please me,”
  Replied he; “but the boiling of the red
  Water might well solve one of them thou makest.

Thou shalt see Lethe, but outside this moat,
  There where the souls repair to lave themselves,
  When sin repented of has been removed.”

Then said he: “It is time now to abandon
  The wood; take heed that thou come after me;
  A way the margins make that are not burning,

And over them all vapours are extinguished.”



Canto XIV

Now bears us onward one of the hard margins,
  And so the brooklet’s mist o’ershadows it,
  From fire it saves the water and the dikes.

Even as the Flemings, ‘twixt Cadsand and Bruges,
  Fearing the flood that tow’rds them hurls itself,
  Their bulwarks build to put the sea to flight;

And as the Paduans along the Brenta,
  To guard their villas and their villages,
  Or ever Chiarentana feel the heat;

In such similitude had those been made,
  Albeit not so lofty nor so thick,
  Whoever he might be, the master made them.

Now were we from the forest so remote,
  I could not have discovered where it was,
  Even if backward I had turned myself,

When we a company of souls encountered,
  Who came beside the dike, and every one
  Gazed at us, as at evening we are wont

To eye each other under a new moon,
  And so towards us sharpened they their brows
  As an old tailor at the needle’s eye.

Thus scrutinised by such a family,
  By some one I was recognised, who seized
  My garment’s hem, and cried out, “What a marvel!”

And I, when he stretched forth his arm to me,
  On his baked aspect fastened so mine eyes,
  That the scorched countenance prevented not

His recognition by my intellect;

  And bowing down my face unto his own,
  I made reply, “Are you here, Ser Brunetto?”

And he: “May’t not displease thee, O my son,
  If a brief space with thee Brunetto Latini
  Backward return and let the trail go on.”

I said to him: “With all my power I ask it;
  And if you wish me to sit down with you,
  I will, if he please, for I go with him.”

“O son,” he said, “whoever of this herd
  A moment stops, lies then a hundred years,
  Nor fans himself when smiteth him the fire.

Therefore go on; I at thy skirts will come,
  And afterward will I rejoin my band,
  Which goes lamenting its eternal doom.”

I did not dare to go down from the road
  Level to walk with him; but my head bowed
  I held as one who goeth reverently.

And he began: “What fortune or what fate
  Before the last day leadeth thee down here?
  And who is this that showeth thee the way?”

“Up there above us in the life serene,”
  I answered him, “I lost me in a valley,
  Or ever yet my age had been completed.

But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;
  This one appeared to me, returning thither,
  And homeward leadeth me along this road.”

And he to me: “If thou thy star do follow,
  Thou canst not fail thee of a glorious port,
  If well I judged in the life beautiful.

And if I had not died so prematurely,
  Seeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee,
  I would have given thee comfort in the work.

But that ungrateful and malignant people,
  Which of old time from Fesole descended,
  And smacks still of the mountain and the granite,

Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe;
  And it is right; for among crabbed sorbs
  It ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit.

Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind;
  A people avaricious, envious, proud;
  Take heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee.

Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee,
  One party and the other shall be hungry
  For thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.

Their litter let the beasts of Fesole
  Make of themselves, nor let them touch the plant,
  If any still upon their dunghill rise,

In which may yet revive the consecrated
  Seed of those Romans, who remained there when
  The nest of such great malice it became.”

“If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,”
  Replied I to him, “not yet would you be
  In banishment from human nature placed;

For in my mind is fixed, and touches now
  My heart the dear and good paternal image
  Of you, when in the world from hour to hour

You taught me how a man becomes eternal;
  And how much I am grateful, while I live
  Behoves that in my language be discerned.

What you narrate of my career I write,
  And keep it to be glossed with other text
  By a Lady who can do it, if I reach her.

This much will I have manifest to you;
  Provided that my conscience do not chide me,
  For whatsoever Fortune I am ready.

Such handsel is not new unto mine ears;
  Therefore let Fortune turn her wheel around
  As it may please her, and the churl his mattock.”

My Master thereupon on his right cheek
  Did backward turn himself, and looked at me;
  Then said: “He listeneth well who noteth it.”

Nor speaking less on that account, I go
  With Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are
  His most known and most eminent companions.

And he to me: “To know of some is well;
  Of others it were laudable to be silent,
  For short would be the time for so much speech.

Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks,
  And men of letters great and of great fame,
  In the world tainted with the selfsame sin.

Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd,
  And Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there
  If thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,

That one, who by the Servant of the Servants
  From Arno was transferred to Bacchiglione,
  Where he has left his sin-excited nerves.

More would I say, but coming and discoursing
  Can be no longer; for that I behold
  New smoke uprising yonder from the sand.

A people comes with whom I may not be;
  Commended unto thee be my Tesoro,
  In which I still live, and no more I ask.”

Then he turned round, and seemed to be of those
  Who at Verona run for the Green Mantle
  Across the plain; and seemed to be among them

The one who wins, and not the one who loses.



Canto XVI

Now was I where was heard the reverberation
  Of water falling into the next round,
  Like to that humming which the beehives make,

When shadows three together started forth,
  Running, from out a company that passed
  Beneath the rain of the sharp martyrdom.

Towards us came they, and each one cried out:
  “Stop, thou; for by thy garb to us thou seemest
  To be some one of our depraved city.”

Ah me! what wounds I saw upon their limbs,
  Recent and ancient by the flames burnt in!
  It pains me still but to remember it.

Unto their cries my Teacher paused attentive;
  He turned his face towards me, and “Now wait,”
  He said; “to these we should be courteous.

And if it were not for the fire that darts
  The nature of this region, I should say
  That haste were more becoming thee than them.”

As soon as we stood still, they recommenced
  The old refrain, and when they overtook us,
  Formed of themselves a wheel, all three of them.

As champions stripped and oiled are wont to do,
  Watching for their advantage and their hold,
  Before they come to blows and thrusts between them,

Thus, wheeling round, did every one his visage
  Direct to me, so that in opposite wise
  His neck and feet continual journey made.

And, “If the misery of this soft place
  Bring in disdain ourselves and our entreaties,”
  Began one, “and our aspect black and blistered,

Let the renown of us thy mind incline
  To tell us who thou art, who thus securely
  Thy living feet dost move along through Hell.

He in whose footprints thou dost see me treading,
  Naked and skinless though he now may go,
  Was of a greater rank than thou dost think;

He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
  His name was Guidoguerra, and in life
  Much did he with his wisdom and his sword.

The other, who close by me treads the sand,
  Tegghiaio Aldobrandi is, whose fame
  Above there in the world should welcome be.

And I, who with them on the cross am placed,
  Jacopo Rusticucci was; and truly
  My savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me.”

Could I have been protected from the fire,
  Below I should have thrown myself among them,
  And think the Teacher would have suffered it;

But as I should have burned and baked myself,
  My terror overmastered my good will,
  Which made me greedy of embracing them.

Then I began: “Sorrow and not disdain
  Did your condition fix within me so,
  That tardily it wholly is stripped off,

As soon as this my Lord said unto me
  Words, on account of which I thought within me
  That people such as you are were approaching.

I of your city am; and evermore
  Your labours and your honourable names
  I with affection have retraced and heard.

I leave the gall, and go for the sweet fruits
  Promised to me b
y the veracious Leader;
  But to the centre first I needs must plunge.”

“So may the soul for a long while conduct
  Those limbs of thine,” did he make answer then,
  “And so may thy renown shine after thee,

Valour and courtesy, say if they dwell
  Within our city, as they used to do,
  Or if they wholly have gone out of it;

For Guglielmo Borsier, who is in torment
  With us of late, and goes there with his comrades,
  Doth greatly mortify us with his words.”

“The new inhabitants and the sudden gains,
  Pride and extravagance have in thee engendered,
  Florence, so that thou weep’st thereat already!”

In this wise I exclaimed with face uplifted;
  And the three, taking that for my reply,
  Looked at each other, as one looks at truth.

“If other times so little it doth cost thee,”
  Replied they all, “to satisfy another,
  Happy art thou, thus speaking at thy will!

Therefore, if thou escape from these dark places,
  And come to rebehold the beauteous stars,
  When it shall pleasure thee to say, ‘I was,’

See that thou speak of us unto the people.”
  Then they broke up the wheel, and in their flight
  It seemed as if their agile legs were wings.

Not an Amen could possibly be said
  So rapidly as they had disappeared;
  Wherefore the Master deemed best to depart.

I followed him, and little had we gone,
  Before the sound of water was so near us,
  That speaking we should hardly have been heard.

Even as that stream which holdeth its own course
  The first from Monte Veso tow’rds the East,
  Upon the left-hand slope of Apennine,

Which is above called Acquacheta, ere
  It down descendeth into its low bed,
  And at Forli is vacant of that name,

Reverberates there above San Benedetto
  From Alps, by falling at a single leap,
  Where for a thousand there were room enough;

Thus downward from a bank precipitate,
  We found resounding that dark-tinted water,
  So that it soon the ear would have offended.

I had a cord around about me girt,
  And therewithal I whilom had designed
  To take the panther with the painted skin.

After I this had all from me unloosed,
  As my Conductor had commanded me,
  I reached it to him, gathered up and coiled,

Whereat he turned himself to the right side,
  And at a little distance from the verge,
  He cast it down into that deep abyss.

“It must needs be some novelty respond,”
  I said within myself, “to the new signal
  The Master with his eye is following so.”

Ah me! how very cautious men should be
  With those who not alone behold the act,
  But with their wisdom look into the thoughts!

He said to me: “Soon there will upward come
  What I await; and what thy thought is dreaming
  Must soon reveal itself unto thy sight.”

Aye to that truth which has the face of falsehood,
  A man should close his lips as far as may be,
  Because without his fault it causes shame;

But here I cannot; and, Reader, by the notes
  Of this my Comedy to thee I swear,
  So may they not be void of lasting favour,

Athwart that dense and darksome atmosphere
  I saw a figure swimming upward come,
  Marvellous unto every steadfast heart,

Even as he returns who goeth down
  Sometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled
  Reef, or aught else that in the sea is hidden,

Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.



Canto XVII

“Behold the monster with the pointed tail,
  Who cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons,
  Behold him who infecteth all the world.”

Thus unto me my Guide began to say,
  And beckoned him that he should come to shore,
  Near to the confine of the trodden marble;

And that uncleanly image of deceit
  Came up and thrust ashore its head and bust,
  But on the border did not drag its tail.

The face was as the face of a just man,
  Its semblance outwardly was so benign,
  And of a serpent all the trunk beside.

Two paws it had, hairy unto the armpits;
  The back, and breast, and both the sides it had
  Depicted o’er with nooses and with shields.

With colours more, groundwork or broidery
  Never in cloth did Tartars make nor Turks,
  Nor were such tissues by Arachne laid.

As sometimes wherries lie upon the shore,
  That part are in the water, part on land;
  And as among the guzzling Germans there,

The beaver plants himself to wage his war;
  So that vile monster lay upon the border,
  Which is of stone, and shutteth in the sand.

His tail was wholly quivering in the void,
  Contorting upwards the envenomed fork,
  That in the guise of scorpion armed its point.

The Guide said: “Now perforce must turn aside
  Our way a little, even to that beast
  Malevolent, that yonder coucheth him.”

We therefore on the right side descended,
  And made ten steps upon the outer verge,
  Completely to avoid the sand and flame;

And after we are come to him, I see
  A little farther off upon the sand
  A people sitting near the hollow place.

Then said to me the Master: “So that full
  Experience of this round thou bear away,
  Now go and see what their condition is.

There let thy conversation be concise;
  Till thou returnest I will speak with him,
  That he concede to us his stalwart shoulders.”

Thus farther still upon the outermost
  Head of that seventh circle all alone
  I went, where sat the melancholy folk.

Out of their eyes was gushing forth their woe;
  This way, that way, they helped them with their hands
  Now from the flames and now from the hot soil.

Not otherwise in summer do the dogs,
  Now with the foot, now with the muzzle, when
  By fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten.

When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces
  Of some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling,
  Not one of them I knew; but I perceived

That from the neck of each there hung a pouch,
  Which certain colour had, and certain blazon;
  And thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding.

And as I gazing round me come among them,
  Upon a yellow pouch I azure saw
  That had the face and posture of a lion.

Proceeding then the current of my sight,
  Another of them saw I, red as blood,
  Display a goose more white than butter is.

And one, who with an azure sow and gravid
  Emblazoned had his little pouch of white,
  Said unto me: “What dost thou in this moat?

Now get thee gone; and since thou’rt still alive,
  Know that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano,
  Will have his seat here on my left-hand side.

A Paduan am I with these Florentines;
  Full many a time they thunder in mine ears,
  Exclaiming, ‘Come the sovereign cavalier,

He who shall bring the satchel with three goats;'”
  Then twisted he his mouth, and forth he thrust
  His tongue, like to an ox that licks its nose.

And fearing lest my longer stay might vex
  Him who had warned me not to tarry long,
  Backward I turned me from those weary souls.

I found my Guide, who had already mounted
  Upon the back of that wild animal,
  And said to me: “Now be both strong and bold.

Now we descend by stairways such as these;
  Mount thou in front, for I will be midway,
  So that the tail m
ay have no power to harm thee.”

Such as he is who has so near the ague
  Of quartan that his nails are blue already,
  And trembles all, but looking at the shade;

Even such became I at those proffered words;
  But shame in me his menaces produced,
  Which maketh servant strong before good master.

I seated me upon those monstrous shoulders;
  I wished to say, and yet the voice came not
  As I believed, “Take heed that thou embrace me.”

But he, who other times had rescued me
  In other peril, soon as I had mounted,
  Within his arms encircled and sustained me,

And said: “Now, Geryon, bestir thyself;
  The circles large, and the descent be little;
  Think of the novel burden which thou hast.”

Even as the little vessel shoves from shore,
  Backward, still backward, so he thence withdrew;
  And when he wholly felt himself afloat,

There where his breast had been he turned his tail,
  And that extended like an eel he moved,
  And with his paws drew to himself the air.

A greater fear I do not think there was
  What time abandoned Phaeton the reins,
  Whereby the heavens, as still appears, were scorched;

Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks
  Felt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,
  His father crying, “An ill way thou takest!”

Than was my own, when I perceived myself
  On all sides in the air, and saw extinguished
  The sight of everything but of the monster.

Onward he goeth, swimming slowly, slowly;
  Wheels and descends, but I perceive it only
  By wind upon my face and from below.

I heard already on the right the whirlpool
  Making a horrible crashing under us;
  Whence I thrust out my head with eyes cast downward.

Then was I still more fearful of the abyss;
  Because I fires beheld, and heard laments,
  Whereat I, trembling, all the closer cling.

I saw then, for before I had not seen it,
  The turning and descending, by great horrors
  That were approaching upon divers sides.

As falcon who has long been on the wing,
  Who, without seeing either lure or bird,
  Maketh the falconer say, “Ah me, thou stoopest,”

Descendeth weary, whence he started swiftly,
  Thorough a hundred circles, and alights
  Far from his master, sullen and disdainful;

Even thus did Geryon place us on the bottom,
  Close to the bases of the rough-hewn rock,
  And being disencumbered of our persons,

He sped away as arrow from the string.



Canto XVIII

There is a place in Hell called Malebolge,
  Wholly of stone and of an iron colour,
  As is the circle that around it turns.

Right in the middle of the field malign
  There yawns a well exceeding wide and deep,
  Of which its place the structure will recount.

Round, then, is that enclosure which remains
  Between the well and foot of the high, hard bank,
  And has distinct in valleys ten its bottom.

As where for the protection of the walls
  Many and many moats surround the castles,
  The part in which they are a figure forms,

Just such an image those presented there;
  And as about such strongholds from their gates
  Unto the outer bank are little bridges,

So from the precipice’s base did crags
  Project, which intersected dikes and moats,
  Unto the well that truncates and collects them.

Within this place, down shaken from the back
  Of Geryon, we found us; and the Poet
  Held to the left, and I moved on behind.

Upon my right hand I beheld new anguish,
  New torments, and new wielders of the lash,
  Wherewith the foremost Bolgia was replete.

Down at the bottom were the sinners naked;
  This side the middle came they facing us,
  Beyond it, with us, but with greater steps;

Even as the Romans, for the mighty host,
  The year of Jubilee, upon the bridge,
  Have chosen a mode to pass the people over;

For all upon one side towards the Castle
  Their faces have, and go unto St. Peter’s;
  On the other side they go towards the Mountain.

This side and that, along the livid stone
  Beheld I horned demons with great scourges,
  Who cruelly were beating them behind.

Ah me! how they did make them lift their legs
  At the first blows! and sooth not any one
  The second waited for, nor for the third.

While I was going on, mine eyes by one
  Encountered were; and straight I said: “Already
  With sight of this one I am not unfed.”

Therefore I stayed my feet to make him out,
  And with me the sweet Guide came to a stand,
  And to my going somewhat back assented;

And he, the scourged one, thought to hide himself,
  Lowering his face, but little it availed him;
  For said I: “Thou that castest down thine eyes,

If false are not the features which thou bearest,
  Thou art Venedico Caccianimico;
  But what doth bring thee to such pungent sauces?”

And he to me: “Unwillingly I tell it;
  But forces me thine utterance distinct,
  Which makes me recollect the ancient world.

I was the one who the fair Ghisola
  Induced to grant the wishes of the Marquis,
  Howe’er the shameless story may be told.

Not the sole Bolognese am I who weeps here;
  Nay, rather is this place so full of them,
  That not so many tongues to-day are taught

‘Twixt Reno and Savena to say ‘sipa;’
  And if thereof thou wishest pledge or proof,
  Bring to thy mind our avaricious heart.”

While speaking in this manner, with his scourge
  A demon smote him, and said: “Get thee gone
  Pander, there are no women here for coin.”

I joined myself again unto mine Escort;
  Thereafterward with footsteps few we came
  To where a crag projected from the bank.

This very easily did we ascend,
  And turning to the right along its ridge,
  From those eternal circles we departed.

When we were there, where it is hollowed out
  Beneath, to give a passage to the scourged,
  The Guide said: “Wait, and see that on thee strike

The vision of those others evil-born,
  Of whom thou hast not yet beheld the faces,
  Because together with us they have gone.”

From the old bridge we looked upon the train
  Which tow’rds us came upon the other border,
  And which the scourges in like manner smite.

And the good Master, without my inquiring,
  Said to me: “See that tall one who is coming,
  And for his pain seems not to shed a tear;

Still what a royal aspect he retains!
  That Jason is, who by his heart and cunning
  The Colchians of the Ram made destitute.

He by the isle of Lemnos passed along
  After the daring women pitiless
  Had unto death devoted all their males.

There with his tokens and with ornate words
  Did he deceive Hypsipyle, the maiden
  Who first, herself, had all the rest deceived.

There did he leave her pregnant and forlorn;
  Such sin unto such punishment condemns him,
  And also for Medea is vengeance done.

With him go those who in such wise deceive;
  And this sufficient be of the first valley
  To know, and those that in its jaws it holds.”

We were already where the narrow path
  Crosses athwart the second dike, and forms
  Of that a buttress for another arch.

Thence we heard people, who are making moan
  In the next Bolgia, snorting with their muzzles,
&nbs
p; And with their palms beating upon themselves

The margins were incrusted with a mould
  By exhalation from below, that sticks there,
  And with the eyes and nostrils wages war.

The bottom is so deep, no place suffices
  To give us sight of it, without ascending
  The arch’s back, where most the crag impends.

Thither we came, and thence down in the moat
  I saw a people smothered in a filth
  That out of human privies seemed to flow;

And whilst below there with mine eye I search,
  I saw one with his head so foul with ordure,
  It was not clear if he were clerk or layman.

He screamed to me: “Wherefore art thou so eager
  To look at me more than the other foul ones?”
  And I to him: “Because, if I remember,

I have already seen thee with dry hair,
  And thou’rt Alessio Interminei of Lucca;
  Therefore I eye thee more than all the others.”

And he thereon, belabouring his pumpkin:
  “The flatteries have submerged me here below,
  Wherewith my tongue was never surfeited.”

Then said to me the Guide: “See that thou thrust
  Thy visage somewhat farther in advance,
  That with thine eyes thou well the face attain

Of that uncleanly and dishevelled drab,
  Who there doth scratch herself with filthy nails,
  And crouches now, and now on foot is standing.

Thais the harlot is it, who replied
  Unto her paramour, when he said, ‘Have I
  Great gratitude from thee?’–‘Nay, marvellous;’

And herewith let our sight be satisfied.”



Canto XIX

O Simon Magus, O forlorn disciples,
  Ye who the things of God, which ought to be
  The brides of holiness, rapaciously

For silver and for gold do prostitute,
  Now it behoves for you the trumpet sound,
  Because in this third Bolgia ye abide.

We had already on the following tomb
  Ascended to that portion of the crag
  Which o’er the middle of the moat hangs plumb.

Wisdom supreme, O how great art thou showest
  In heaven, in earth, and in the evil world,
  And with what justice doth thy power distribute!

I saw upon the sides and on the bottom
  The livid stone with perforations filled,
  All of one size, and every one was round.

To me less ample seemed they not, nor greater
  Than those that in my beautiful Saint John
  Are fashioned for the place of the baptisers,

And one of which, not many years ago,
  I broke for some one, who was drowning in it;
  Be this a seal all men to undeceive.

Out of the mouth of each one there protruded
  The feet of a transgressor, and the legs
  Up to the calf, the rest within remained.

In all of them the soles were both on fire;
  Wherefore the joints so violently quivered,
  They would have snapped asunder withes and bands.

Even as the flame of unctuous things is wont
  To move upon the outer surface only,
  So likewise was it there from heel to point.

“Master, who is that one who writhes himself,
  More than his other comrades quivering,”
  I said, “and whom a redder flame is sucking?”

And he to me: “If thou wilt have me bear thee
  Down there along that bank which lowest lies,
  From him thou’lt know his errors and himself.”

And I: “What pleases thee, to me is pleasing;
  Thou art my Lord, and knowest that I depart not
  From thy desire, and knowest what is not spoken.”

Straightway upon the fourth dike we arrived;
  We turned, and on the left-hand side descended
  Down to the bottom full of holes and narrow.

And the good Master yet from off his haunch
  Deposed me not, till to the hole he brought me
  Of him who so lamented with his shanks.

“Whoe’er thou art, that standest upside down,
  O doleful soul, implanted like a stake,”
  To say began I, “if thou canst, speak out.”

I stood even as the friar who is confessing
  The false assassin, who, when he is fixed,
  Recalls him, so that death may be delayed.

And he cried out: “Dost thou stand there already,
  Dost thou stand there already, Boniface?
  By many years the record lied to me.

Art thou so early satiate with that wealth,
  For which thou didst not fear to take by fraud
  The beautiful Lady, and then work her woe?”

Such I became, as people are who stand,
  Not comprehending what is answered them,
  As if bemocked, and know not how to answer.

Then said Virgilius: “Say to him straightway,
  ‘I am not he, I am not he thou thinkest.'”
  And I replied as was imposed on me.

Whereat the spirit writhed with both his feet,
  Then, sighing, with a voice of lamentation
  Said to me: “Then what wantest thou of me?

If who I am thou carest so much to know,
  That thou on that account hast crossed the bank,
  Know that I vested was with the great mantle;

And truly was I son of the She-bear,
  So eager to advance the cubs, that wealth
  Above, and here myself, I pocketed.

Beneath my head the others are dragged down
  Who have preceded me in simony,
  Flattened along the fissure of the rock.

Below there I shall likewise fall, whenever
  That one shall come who I believed thou wast,
  What time the sudden question I proposed.

But longer I my feet already toast,
  And here have been in this way upside down,
  Than he will planted stay with reddened feet;

For after him shall come of fouler deed
  From tow’rds the west a Pastor without law,
  Such as befits to cover him and me.

New Jason will he be, of whom we read
  In Maccabees; and as his king was pliant,
  So he who governs France shall be to this one.”

I do not know if I were here too bold,
  That him I answered only in this metre:
  “I pray thee tell me now how great a treasure

Our Lord demanded of Saint Peter first,
  Before he put the keys into his keeping?
  Truly he nothing asked but ‘Follow me.’

Nor Peter nor the rest asked of Matthias
  Silver or gold, when he by lot was chosen
  Unto the place the guilty soul had lost.

Therefore stay here, for thou art justly punished,
  And keep safe guard o’er the ill-gotten money,
  Which caused thee to be valiant against Charles.

And were it not that still forbids it me
  The reverence for the keys superlative
  Thou hadst in keeping in the gladsome life,

I would make use of words more grievous still;
  Because your avarice afflicts the world,
  Trampling the good and lifting the depraved.

The Evangelist you Pastors had in mind,
  When she who sitteth upon many waters
  To fornicate with kings by him was seen;

The same who with the seven heads was born,
  And power and strength from the ten horns received,
  So long as virtue to her spouse was pleasing.

Ye have made yourselves a god of gold and silver;
  And from the idolater how differ ye,
  Save that he one, and ye a hundred worship?

Ah, Constantine! of how much ill was mother,
  Not thy conversion, but that marriage dower
  Which the first wealthy Father took from thee!”

And while I sang to him such notes as these,
  Either that anger or that conscience stung him,
  He struggled violently with both his feet.

I think in sooth that it my Leader pleased,
  With such contented lip he listened ever
  Unto the sound of the true words expressed.

Therefore with both his arms he took me up
,
  And when he had me all upon his breast,
  Remounted by the way where he descended.

Nor did he tire to have me clasped to him;
  But bore me to the summit of the arch
  Which from the fourth dike to the fifth is passage.

There tenderly he laid his burden down,
  Tenderly on the crag uneven and steep,
  That would have been hard passage for the goats:

Thence was unveiled to me another valley.



Canto XX

Of a new pain behoves me to make verses
  And give material to the twentieth canto
  Of the first song, which is of the submerged.

I was already thoroughly disposed
  To peer down into the uncovered depth,
  Which bathed itself with tears of agony;

And people saw I through the circular valley,
  Silent and weeping, coming at the pace
  Which in this world the Litanies assume.

As lower down my sight descended on them,
  Wondrously each one seemed to be distorted
  From chin to the beginning of the chest;

For tow’rds the reins the countenance was turned,
  And backward it behoved them to advance,
  As to look forward had been taken from them.

Perchance indeed by violence of palsy
  Some one has been thus wholly turned awry;
  But I ne’er saw it, nor believe it can be.

As God may let thee, Reader, gather fruit
  From this thy reading, think now for thyself
  How I could ever keep my face unmoistened,

When our own image near me I beheld
  Distorted so, the weeping of the eyes
  Along the fissure bathed the hinder parts.

Truly I wept, leaning upon a peak
  Of the hard crag, so that my Escort said
  To me: “Art thou, too, of the other fools?

Here pity lives when it is wholly dead;
  Who is a greater reprobate than he
  Who feels compassion at the doom divine?

Lift up, lift up thy head, and see for whom
  Opened the earth before the Thebans’ eyes;
  Wherefore they all cried: ‘Whither rushest thou,

Amphiaraus?  Why dost leave the war?’
  And downward ceased he not to fall amain
  As far as Minos, who lays hold on all.

See, he has made a bosom of his shoulders!
  Because he wished to see too far before him
  Behind he looks, and backward goes his way:

Behold Tiresias, who his semblance changed,
  When from a male a female he became,
  His members being all of them transformed;

And afterwards was forced to strike once more
  The two entangled serpents with his rod,
  Ere he could have again his manly plumes.

That Aruns is, who backs the other’s belly,
  Who in the hills of Luni, there where grubs
  The Carrarese who houses underneath,

Among the marbles white a cavern had
  For his abode; whence to behold the stars
  And sea, the view was not cut off from him.

And she there, who is covering up her breasts,
  Which thou beholdest not, with loosened tresses,
  And on that side has all the hairy skin,

Was Manto, who made quest through many lands,
  Afterwards tarried there where I was born;
  Whereof I would thou list to me a little.

After her father had from life departed,
  And the city of Bacchus had become enslaved,
  She a long season wandered through the world.

Above in beauteous Italy lies a lake
  At the Alp’s foot that shuts in Germany
  Over Tyrol, and has the name Benaco.

By a thousand springs, I think, and more, is bathed,
  ‘Twixt Garda and Val Camonica, Pennino,
  With water that grows stagnant in that lake.

Midway a place is where the Trentine Pastor,
  And he of Brescia, and the Veronese
  Might give his blessing, if he passed that way.

Sitteth Peschiera, fortress fair and strong,
  To front the Brescians and the Bergamasks,
  Where round about the bank descendeth lowest.

There of necessity must fall whatever
  In bosom of Benaco cannot stay,
  And grows a river down through verdant pastures.

Soon as the water doth begin to run,
  No more Benaco is it called, but Mincio,
  Far as Governo, where it falls in Po.

Not far it runs before it finds a plain
  In which it spreads itself, and makes it marshy,
  And oft ’tis wont in summer to be sickly.

Passing that way the virgin pitiless
  Land in the middle of the fen descried,
  Untilled and naked of inhabitants;

There to escape all human intercourse,
  She with her servants stayed, her arts to practise
  And lived, and left her empty body there.

The men, thereafter, who were scattered round,
  Collected in that place, which was made strong
  By the lagoon it had on every side;

They built their city over those dead bones,
  And, after her who first the place selected,
  Mantua named it, without other omen.

Its people once within more crowded were,
  Ere the stupidity of Casalodi
  From Pinamonte had received deceit.

Therefore I caution thee, if e’er thou hearest
  Originate my city otherwise,
  No falsehood may the verity defraud.”

And I: “My Master, thy discourses are
  To me so certain, and so take my faith,
  That unto me the rest would be spent coals.

But tell me of the people who are passing,
  If any one note-worthy thou beholdest,
  For only unto that my mind reverts.”

Then said he to me: “He who from the cheek
  Thrusts out his beard upon his swarthy shoulders
  Was, at the time when Greece was void of males,

So that there scarce remained one in the cradle,
  An augur, and with Calchas gave the moment,
  In Aulis, when to sever the first cable.

Eryphylus his name was, and so sings
  My lofty Tragedy in some part or other;
  That knowest thou well, who knowest the whole of it.

The next, who is so slender in the flanks,
  Was Michael Scott, who of a verity
  Of magical illusions knew the game.

Behold Guido Bonatti, behold Asdente,
  Who now unto his leather and his thread
  Would fain have stuck, but he too late repents.

Behold the wretched ones, who left the needle,
  The spool and rock, and made them fortune-tellers;
  They wrought their magic spells with herb and image.

But come now, for already holds the confines
  Of both the hemispheres, and under Seville
  Touches the ocean-wave, Cain and the thorns,

And yesternight the moon was round already;
  Thou shouldst remember well it did not harm thee
  From time to time within the forest deep.”

Thus spake he to me, and we walked the while.



Canto XXI

From bridge to bridge thus, speaking other things
  Of which my Comedy cares not to sing,
  We came along, and held the summit, when

We halted to behold another fissure
  Of Malebolge and other vain laments;
  And I beheld it marvellously dark.

As in the Arsenal of the Venetians
  Boils in the winter the tenacious pitch
  To smear their unsound vessels o’er again,

For sail they cannot; and instead thereof
  One makes his vessel new, and one recaulks
  The ribs of that which many a voyage has made;

One hammers at the prow, one at the stern,
  This one makes oars, and that one cordage twists,
  Another mends the mainsail and the mizzen;

Thus, not by fire, but by the art divine,
  Was boiling down below there a dense pitch
  Which upon every side the bank belimed.

I saw it, but I did not see within
it
  Aught but the bubbles that the boiling raised,
  And all swell up and resubside compressed.

The while below there fixedly I gazed,
  My Leader, crying out: “Beware, beware!”
  Drew me unto himself from where I stood.

Then I turned round, as one who is impatient
  To see what it behoves him to escape,
  And whom a sudden terror doth unman,

Who, while he looks, delays not his departure;
  And I beheld behind us a black devil,
  Running along upon the crag, approach.

Ah, how ferocious was he in his aspect!
  And how he seemed to me in action ruthless,
  With open wings and light upon his feet!

His shoulders, which sharp-pointed were and high,
  A sinner did encumber with both haunches,
  And he held clutched the sinews of the feet.

From off our bridge, he said: “O Malebranche,
  Behold one of the elders of Saint Zita;
  Plunge him beneath, for I return for others

Unto that town, which is well furnished with them.
  All there are barrators, except Bonturo;
  No into Yes for money there is changed.”

He hurled him down, and over the hard crag
  Turned round, and never was a mastiff loosened
  In so much hurry to pursue a thief.

The other sank, and rose again face downward;
  But the demons, under cover of the bridge,
  Cried: “Here the Santo Volto has no place!

Here swims one otherwise than in the Serchio;
  Therefore, if for our gaffs thou wishest not,
  Do not uplift thyself above the pitch.”

They seized him then with more than a hundred rakes;
  They said: “It here behoves thee to dance covered,
  That, if thou canst, thou secretly mayest pilfer.”

Not otherwise the cooks their scullions make
  Immerse into the middle of the caldron
  The meat with hooks, so that it may not float.

Said the good Master to me: “That it be not
  Apparent thou art here, crouch thyself down
  Behind a jag, that thou mayest have some screen;

And for no outrage that is done to me
  Be thou afraid, because these things I know,
  For once before was I in such a scuffle.”

Then he passed on beyond the bridge’s head,
  And as upon the sixth bank he arrived,
  Need was for him to have a steadfast front.

With the same fury, and the same uproar,
  As dogs leap out upon a mendicant,
  Who on a sudden begs, where’er he stops,

They issued from beneath the little bridge,
  And turned against him all their grappling-irons;
  But he cried out: “Be none of you malignant!

Before those hooks of yours lay hold of me,
  Let one of you step forward, who may hear me,
  And then take counsel as to grappling me.”

They all cried out: “Let Malacoda go;”
  Whereat one started, and the rest stood still,
  And he came to him, saying: “What avails it?”

“Thinkest thou, Malacoda, to behold me
  Advanced into this place,” my Master said,
  “Safe hitherto from all your skill of fence,

Without the will divine, and fate auspicious?
  Let me go on, for it in Heaven is willed
  That I another show this savage road.”

Then was his arrogance so humbled in him,
  That he let fall his grapnel at his feet,
  And to the others said: “Now strike him not.”

And unto me my Guide: “O thou, who sittest
  Among the splinters of the bridge crouched down,
  Securely now return to me again.”

Wherefore I started and came swiftly to him;
  And all the devils forward thrust themselves,
  So that I feared they would not keep their compact.

And thus beheld I once afraid the soldiers
  Who issued under safeguard from Caprona,
  Seeing themselves among so many foes.

Close did I press myself with all my person
  Beside my Leader, and turned not mine eyes
  From off their countenance, which was not good.

They lowered their rakes, and “Wilt thou have me hit him,”
  They said to one another, “on the rump?”
  And answered: “Yes; see that thou nick him with it.”

But the same demon who was holding parley
  With my Conductor turned him very quickly,
  And said: “Be quiet, be quiet, Scarmiglione;”

Then said to us: “You can no farther go
  Forward upon this crag, because is lying
  All shattered, at the bottom, the sixth arch.

And if it still doth please you to go onward,
  Pursue your way along upon this rock;
  Near is another crag that yields a path.

Yesterday, five hours later than this hour,
  One thousand and two hundred sixty-six
  Years were complete, that here the way was broken.

I send in that direction some of mine
  To see if any one doth air himself;
  Go ye with them; for they will not be vicious.

Step forward, Alichino and Calcabrina,”
  Began he to cry out, “and thou, Cagnazzo;
  And Barbariccia, do thou guide the ten.

Come forward, Libicocco and Draghignazzo,
  And tusked Ciriatto and Graffiacane,
  And Farfarello and mad Rubicante;

Search ye all round about the boiling pitch;
  Let these be safe as far as the next crag,
  That all unbroken passes o’er the dens.”

“O me! what is it, Master, that I see?
  Pray let us go,” I said, “without an escort,
  If thou knowest how, since for myself I ask none.

If thou art as observant as thy wont is,
  Dost thou not see that they do gnash their teeth,
  And with their brows are threatening woe to us?”

And he to me: “I will not have thee fear;
  Let them gnash on, according to their fancy,
  Because they do it for those boiling wretches.”

Along the left-hand dike they wheeled about;
  But first had each one thrust his tongue between
  His teeth towards their leader for a signal;

And he had made a trumpet of his rump.



Canto XXII

I have erewhile seen horsemen moving camp,
  Begin the storming, and their muster make,
  And sometimes starting off for their escape;

Vaunt-couriers have I seen upon your land,
  O Aretines, and foragers go forth,
  Tournaments stricken, and the joustings run,

Sometimes with trumpets and sometimes with bells,
  With kettle-drums, and signals of the castles,
  And with our own, and with outlandish things,

But never yet with bagpipe so uncouth
  Did I see horsemen move, nor infantry,
  Nor ship by any sign of land or star.

We went upon our way with the ten demons;
  Ah, savage company! but in the church
  With saints, and in the tavern with the gluttons!

Ever upon the pitch was my intent,
  To see the whole condition of that Bolgia,
  And of the people who therein were burned.

Even as the dolphins, when they make a sign
  To mariners by arching of the back,
  That they should counsel take to save their vessel,

Thus sometimes, to alleviate his pain,
  One of the sinners would display his back,
  And in less time conceal it than it lightens.

As on the brink of water in a ditch
  The frogs stand only with their muzzles out,
  So that they hide their feet and other bulk,

So upon every side the sinners stood;
  But ever as Barbariccia near them came,
  Thus underneath the boiling they withdrew.

I saw, and still my heart doth shudder at it,
  One waiting thus, even as it comes to pass
  One frog remains, and down another dives;

And Graffiacan, who most confronted him,
  Grappled him by his tresses smeared with pitch,
  And drew him
up, so that he seemed an otter.

I knew, before, the names of all of them,
  So had I noted them when they were chosen,
  And when they called each other, listened how.

“O Rubicante, see that thou do lay
  Thy claws upon him, so that thou mayst flay him,”
  Cried all together the accursed ones.

And I: “My Master, see to it, if thou canst,
  That thou mayst know who is the luckless wight,
  Thus come into his adversaries’ hands.”

Near to the side of him my Leader drew,
  Asked of him whence he was; and he replied:
  “I in the kingdom of Navarre was born;

My mother placed me servant to a lord,
  For she had borne me to a ribald knave,
  Destroyer of himself and of his things.

Then I domestic was of good King Thibault;
  I set me there to practise barratry,
  For which I pay the reckoning in this heat.”

And Ciriatto, from whose mouth projected,
  On either side, a tusk, as in a boar,
  Caused him to feel how one of them could rip.

Among malicious cats the mouse had come;
  But Barbariccia clasped him in his arms,
  And said: “Stand ye aside, while I enfork him.”

And to my Master he turned round his head;
  “Ask him again,” he said, “if more thou wish
  To know from him, before some one destroy him.”

The Guide: “Now tell then of the other culprits;
  Knowest thou any one who is a Latian,
  Under the pitch?”  And he: “I separated

Lately from one who was a neighbour to it;
  Would that I still were covered up with him,
  For I should fear not either claw nor hook!”

And Libicocco: “We have borne too much;”
  And with his grapnel seized him by the arm,
  So that, by rending, he tore off a tendon.

Eke Draghignazzo wished to pounce upon him
  Down at the legs; whence their Decurion
  Turned round and round about with evil look.

When they again somewhat were pacified,
  Of him, who still was looking at his wound,
  Demanded my Conductor without stay:

“Who was that one, from whom a luckless parting
  Thou sayest thou hast made, to come ashore?”
  And he replied: “It was the Friar Gomita,

He of Gallura, vessel of all fraud,
  Who had the enemies of his Lord in hand,
  And dealt so with them each exults thereat;

Money he took, and let them smoothly off,
  As he says; and in other offices
  A barrator was he, not mean but sovereign.

Foregathers with him one Don Michael Zanche
  Of Logodoro; and of Sardinia
  To gossip never do their tongues feel tired.

O me! see that one, how he grinds his teeth;
  Still farther would I speak, but am afraid
  Lest he to scratch my itch be making ready.”

And the grand Provost, turned to Farfarello,
  Who rolled his eyes about as if to strike,
  Said: “Stand aside there, thou malicious bird.”

“If you desire either to see or hear,”
  The terror-stricken recommenced thereon,
  “Tuscans or Lombards, I will make them come.

But let the Malebranche cease a little,
  So that these may not their revenges fear,
  And I, down sitting in this very place,

For one that I am will make seven come,
  When I shall whistle, as our custom is
  To do whenever one of us comes out.”

Cagnazzo at these words his muzzle lifted,
  Shaking his head, and said: “Just hear the trick
  Which he has thought of, down to throw himself!”

Whence he, who snares in great abundance had,
  Responded: “I by far too cunning am,
  When I procure for mine a greater sadness.”

Alichin held not in, but running counter
  Unto the rest, said to him: “If thou dive,
  I will not follow thee upon the gallop,

But I will beat my wings above the pitch;
  The height be left, and be the bank a shield
  To see if thou alone dost countervail us.”

O thou who readest, thou shalt hear new sport!
  Each to the other side his eyes averted;
  He first, who most reluctant was to do it.

The Navarrese selected well his time;
  Planted his feet on land, and in a moment
  Leaped, and released himself from their design.

Whereat each one was suddenly stung with shame,
  But he most who was cause of the defeat;
  Therefore he moved, and cried: “Thou art o’ertakern.”

But little it availed, for wings could not
  Outstrip the fear; the other one went under,
  And, flying, upward he his breast directed;

Not otherwise the duck upon a sudden
  Dives under, when the falcon is approaching,
  And upward he returneth cross and weary.

Infuriate at the mockery, Calcabrina
  Flying behind him followed close, desirous
  The other should escape, to have a quarrel.

And when the barrator had disappeared,
  He turned his talons upon his companion,
  And grappled with him right above the moat.

But sooth the other was a doughty sparhawk
  To clapperclaw him well; and both of them
  Fell in the middle of the boiling pond.

A sudden intercessor was the heat;
  But ne’ertheless of rising there was naught,
  To such degree they had their wings belimed.

Lamenting with the others, Barbariccia
  Made four of them fly to the other side
  With all their gaffs, and very speedily

This side and that they to their posts descended;
  They stretched their hooks towards the pitch-ensnared,
  Who were already baked within the crust,

And in this manner busied did we leave them.



Canto XXIII

Silent, alone, and without company
  We went, the one in front, the other after,
  As go the Minor Friars along their way.

Upon the fable of Aesop was directed
  My thought, by reason of the present quarrel,
  Where he has spoken of the frog and mouse;

For ‘mo’ and ‘issa’ are not more alike
  Than this one is to that, if well we couple
  End and beginning with a steadfast mind.

And even as one thought from another springs,
  So afterward from that was born another,
  Which the first fear within me double made.

Thus did I ponder: “These on our account
  Are laughed to scorn, with injury and scoff
  So great, that much I think it must annoy them.

If anger be engrafted on ill-will,
  They will come after us more merciless
  Than dog upon the leveret which he seizes,”

I felt my hair stand all on end already
  With terror, and stood backwardly intent,
  When said I: “Master, if thou hidest not

Thyself and me forthwith, of Malebranche
  I am in dread; we have them now behind us;
  I so imagine them, I already feel them.”

And he: “If I were made of leaded glass,
  Thine outward image I should not attract
  Sooner to me than I imprint the inner.

Just now thy thoughts came in among my own,
  With similar attitude and similar face,
  So that of both one counsel sole I made.

If peradventure the right bank so slope
  That we to the next Bolgia can descend,
  We shall escape from the imagined chase.”

Not yet he finished rendering such opinion,
  When I beheld them come with outstretched wings,
  Not far remote, with will to seize upon us.

My Leader on a sudden seized me up,
  Even as a mother who by noise is wakened,
  And close beside her sees the enkindled flames,

Who takes her son, and flies, and does not stop,
  Having more care of him than of herself,
  So that she clothes her only with a shift;

And downwa
rd from the top of the hard bank
  Supine he gave him to the pendent rock,
  That one side of the other Bolgia walls.

Ne’er ran so swiftly water through a sluice
  To turn the wheel of any land-built mill,
  When nearest to the paddles it approaches,

As did my Master down along that border,
  Bearing me with him on his breast away,
  As his own son, and not as a companion.

Hardly the bed of the ravine below
  His feet had reached, ere they had reached the hill
  Right over us; but he was not afraid;

For the high Providence, which had ordained
  To place them ministers of the fifth moat,
  The power of thence departing took from all.

A painted people there below we found,
  Who went about with footsteps very slow,
  Weeping and in their semblance tired and vanquished.

They had on mantles with the hoods low down
  Before their eyes, and fashioned of the cut
  That in Cologne they for the monks are made.

Without, they gilded are so that it dazzles;
  But inwardly all leaden and so heavy
  That Frederick used to put them on of straw.

O everlastingly fatiguing mantle!
  Again we turned us, still to the left hand
  Along with them, intent on their sad plaint;

But owing to the weight, that weary folk
  Came on so tardily, that we were new
  In company at each motion of the haunch.

Whence I unto my Leader: “See thou find
  Some one who may by deed or name be known,
  And thus in going move thine eye about.”

And one, who understood the Tuscan speech,
  Cried to us from behind: “Stay ye your feet,
  Ye, who so run athwart the dusky air!

Perhaps thou’lt have from me what thou demandest.”
  Whereat the Leader turned him, and said: “Wait,
  And then according to his pace proceed.”

I stopped, and two beheld I show great haste
  Of spirit, in their faces, to be with me;
  But the burden and the narrow way delayed them.

When they came up, long with an eye askance
  They scanned me without uttering a word.
  Then to each other turned, and said together:

“He by the action of his throat seems living;
  And if they dead are, by what privilege
  Go they uncovered by the heavy stole?”

Then said to me: “Tuscan, who to the college
  Of miserable hypocrites art come,
  Do not disdain to tell us who thou art.”

And I to them: “Born was I, and grew up
  In the great town on the fair river of Arno,
  And with the body am I’ve always had.

But who are ye, in whom there trickles down
  Along your cheeks such grief as I behold?
  And what pain is upon you, that so sparkles?”

And one replied to me: “These orange cloaks
  Are made of lead so heavy, that the weights
  Cause in this way their balances to creak.

Frati Gaudenti were we, and Bolognese;
  I Catalano, and he Loderingo
  Named, and together taken by thy city,

As the wont is to take one man alone,
  For maintenance of its peace; and we were such
  That still it is apparent round Gardingo.”

“O Friars,” began I, “your iniquitous. . .”
  But said no more; for to mine eyes there rushed
  One crucified with three stakes on the ground.

When me he saw, he writhed himself all over,
  Blowing into his beard with suspirations;
  And the Friar Catalan, who noticed this,

Said to me: “This transfixed one, whom thou seest,
  Counselled the Pharisees that it was meet
  To put one man to torture for the people.

Crosswise and naked is he on the path,
  As thou perceivest; and he needs must feel,
  Whoever passes, first how much he weighs;

And in like mode his father-in-law is punished
  Within this moat, and the others of the council,
  Which for the Jews was a malignant seed.”

And thereupon I saw Virgilius marvel
  O’er him who was extended on the cross
  So vilely in eternal banishment.

Then he directed to the Friar this voice:
  “Be not displeased, if granted thee, to tell us
  If to the right hand any pass slope down

By which we two may issue forth from here,
  Without constraining some of the black angels
  To come and extricate us from this deep.”

Then he made answer: “Nearer than thou hopest
  There is a rock, that forth from the great circle
  Proceeds, and crosses all the cruel valleys,

Save that at this ’tis broken, and does not bridge it;
  You will be able to mount up the ruin,
  That sidelong slopes and at the bottom rises.”

The Leader stood awhile with head bowed down;
  Then said: “The business badly he recounted
  Who grapples with his hook the sinners yonder.”

And the Friar: “Many of the Devil’s vices
  Once heard I at Bologna, and among them,
  That he’s a liar and the father of lies.”

Thereat my Leader with great strides went on,
  Somewhat disturbed with anger in his looks;
  Whence from the heavy-laden I departed

After the prints of his beloved feet.




* * * * *

The Crisis Chronicles Online Library presents Dante’s Inferno in three parts.
This has been part two, including Cantos XII through XXIIII.  Click here to read more.