SOON as the charity of native land Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves Collected, and to him restor'd, who now

Was hoarse with utt'rance. To the limit thence We came, which from the third the second round Divides, and where of justice is display'd Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next

A plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed

Each plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round Its garland on all sides, as round the wood

Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wide

Of arid sand and thick, resembling most The soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.

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

Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, All weeping piteously, to different laws

Subjected: for on the' earth some lay supine, Some crouching close were seated, others pac'd Incessantly around; the latter tribe,

More numerous, those fewer who beneath The torment lay, but louder in their grief.

O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down

Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow

On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush' d. As in the torrid Indian clime, the son

Of Ammon saw upon his warrior band Descending, solid flames, that to the ground

Came down: whence he bethought him with his troop To trample on the soil; for easier thus

The vapour was extinguish'd, while alone; So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith

The marble glow'd underneath, as under stove The viands, doubly to augment the pain.

Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began: "Instructor! thou who all things overcom'st, Except the hardy demons, that rush'd forth

To stop our entrance at the gate, say who Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not

The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, As by the sultry tempest immatur'd?"

Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'd My guide of him, exclaim'd: "Such as I was When living, dead such now I am. If Jove Weary his workman out, from whom in ire He snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last day

Transfix'd me, if the rest be weary out At their black smithy labouring by turns In Mongibello, while he cries aloud;

"Help, help, good Mulciber!" as erst he cried In the Phlegraean warfare, and the bolts Launch he full aim'd at me with all his might, He never should enjoy a sweet revenge."

Then thus my guide, in accent higher rais'd Than I before had heard him: "Capaneus! Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy pride

Lives yet unquench'd: no torrent, save thy rage, Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full."

Next turning round to me with milder lip He spake: "This of the seven kings was one,

Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held, As still he seems to hold, God in disdain,

And sets his high omnipotence at nought. But, as I told him, his despiteful mood

Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it. Follow me now; and look thou set not yet Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood Keep ever close." Silently on we pass'd

To where there gushes from the forest's bound A little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet lifts My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs From Bulicame, to be portion'd out

Among the sinful women; so ran this

Down through the sand, its bottom and each bank Stone-built, and either margin at its side, Whereon I straight perceiv'd our passage lay.

"Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate We enter'd first, whose threshold is to none Denied, nought else so worthy of regard,

As is this river, has thine eye discern'd,

O'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd."

So spake my guide; and I him thence besought, That having giv'n me appetite to know,

The food he too would give, that hunger crav'd.

"In midst of ocean," forthwith he began,

"A desolate country lies, which Crete is nam'd, Under whose monarch in old times the world Liv'd pure and chaste. A mountain rises there, Call'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams, Deserted now like a forbidden thing.

It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse, Chose for the secret cradle of her son;

And better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts His infant cries. Within the mount, upright

An ancient form there stands and huge, that turns His shoulders towards Damiata, and at Rome

As in his mirror looks. Of finest gold

His head is shap'd, pure silver are the breast And arms; thence to the middle is of brass. And downward all beneath well-temper'd steel, Save the right foot of potter's clay, on which Than on the other more erect he stands,

Each part except the gold, is rent throughout; And from the fissure tears distil, which join'd Penetrate to that cave. They in their course Thus far precipitated down the rock

Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon; Then by this straiten'd channel passing hence Beneath, e'en to the lowest depth of all, Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself Shall see it) I here give thee no account."

Then I to him: "If from our world this sluice Be thus deriv'd; wherefore to us but now Appears it at this edge?" He straight replied:

"The place, thou know'st, is round; and though great part Thou have already pass'd, still to the left

Descending to the nethermost, not yet

Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb. Wherefore if aught of new to us appear,

It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks."

Then I again inquir'd: "Where flow the streams Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one

Thou tell'st not, and the other of that shower, Thou say'st, is form'd." He answer thus return'd: "Doubtless thy questions all well pleas'd I hear. Yet the red seething wave might have resolv'd One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,

But not within this hollow, in the place, Whither to lave themselves the spirits go, Whose blame hath been by penitence remov'd." He added: "Time is now we quit the wood.

Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames;

For over them all vapour is extinct."

One of the solid margins bears us now Envelop'd in the mist, that from the stream Arising, hovers o'er, and saves from fire Both piers and water. As the Flemings rear

Their mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide

That drives toward them, or the Paduans theirs Along the Brenta, to defend their towns

And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt

On Chiarentana's top; such were the mounds, So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to these Made equal, by the master, whosoe'er

He was, that rais'd them here. We from the wood Were not so far remov'd, that turning round

I might not have discern'd it, when we met A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.

They each one ey'd us, as at eventide One eyes another under a new moon,

And toward us sharpen'd their sight as keen, As an old tailor at his needle's eye.

Thus narrowly explor'd by all the tribe, I was agniz'd of one, who by the skirt

Caught me, and cried, "What wonder have we here!"

And I, when he to me outstretch'd his arm, Intently fix'd my ken on his parch'd looks,

That although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd not But I remember'd him; and towards his face

My hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto!

"And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My son! Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto

Latini but a little space with thee

Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed."

I thus to him replied: "Much as I can,

I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing, That I here seat me with thee, I consent;

His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain'd."

"O son!" said he, "whoever of this throng One instant stops, lies then a hundred years, No fan to ventilate him, when the fire

Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin

My troop, who go mourning their endless doom."

I dar'd not from the path descend to tread

On equal ground with him, but held my head Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise.

"What chance or destiny," thus he began, "Ere the last day conducts thee here below? And who is this, that shows to thee the way?"

"There up aloft," I answer'd, "in the life Serene, I wander'd in a valley lost,

Before mine age had to its fullness reach'd. But yester-morn I left it: then once more Into that vale returning, him I met;

And by this path homeward he leads me back."

"If thou," he answer'd, "follow but thy star, Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven: Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd.

And if my fate so early had not chanc'd, Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work. But that ungrateful and malignant race, Who in old times came down from Fesole,

Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint, Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity.

Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit. Old fame reports them in the world for blind, Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well:

Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee Thy fortune hath such honour in reserve,

That thou by either party shalt be crav'd

With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far From the goat's tooth. The herd of Fesole

May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant, If any such yet spring on their rank bed,

In which the holy seed revives, transmitted

From those true Romans, who still there remain'd, When it was made the nest of so much ill."

"Were all my wish fulfill'd," I straight replied, "Thou from the confines of man's nature yet Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart The dear, benign, paternal image, such

As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me The way for man to win eternity;

And how I priz'd the lesson, it behooves,

That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak, What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down:

 

 

And with another text to comment on For her I keep it, the celestial dame, Who will know all, if I to her arrive. This only would I have thee clearly note:

That so my conscience have no plea against me; Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar'd.

Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear. Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best,

The clown his mattock; all things have their course."

Thereat my sapient guide upon his right

Turn'd himself back, then look'd at me and spake: "He listens to good purpose who takes note."

I not the less still on my way proceed, Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire

Who are most known and chief among his tribe.

"To know of some is well;" thus he replied, "But of the rest silence may best beseem. Time would not serve us for report so long. In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks, Men of great learning and no less renown, By one same sin polluted in the world.

With them is Priscian, and Accorso's son Francesco herds among that wretched throng: And, if the wish of so impure a blotch

Possess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen, Who by the servants' servant was transferr'd From Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, where

His ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add, But must from farther speech and onward way Alike desist, for yonder I behold

A mist new-risen on the sandy plain.

A company, with whom I may not sort, Approaches. I commend my TREASURE to thee, Wherein I yet survive; my sole request."

This said he turn'd, and seem'd as one of those, Who o'er Verona's champain try their speed For the green mantle, and of them he seem'd, Not he who loses but who gains the prize.

NOW came I where the water's din was heard, As down it fell into the other round, Resounding like the hum of swarming bees: When forth together issu'd from a troop,

That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm, Three spirits, running swift. They towards us came, And each one cried aloud, "Oh do thou stay!

Whom by the fashion of thy garb we deem To be some inmate of our evil land."

Ah me! what wounds I mark'd upon their limbs, Recent and old, inflicted by the flames!

E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet.

Attentive to their cry my teacher paus'd, And turn'd to me his visage, and then spake; "Wait now! our courtesy these merit well: And were 't not for the nature of the place,

Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said, That haste had better suited thee than them."

They, when we stopp'd, resum'd their ancient wail, And soon as they had reach'd us, all the three Whirl'd round together in one restless wheel.

As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oil, Are wont intent to watch their place of hold And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet; Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenance At me directed, so that opposite

The neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet.

"If misery of this drear wilderness," Thus one began, "added to our sad cheer And destitute, do call forth scorn on us And our entreaties, let our great renown Incline thee to inform us who thou art,

That dost imprint with living feet unharm'd The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see'st My steps pursuing, naked though he be

And reft of all, was of more high estate Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd, Who in his lifetime many a noble act Achiev'd, both by his wisdom and his sword. The other, next to me that beats the sand,

Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well,

In the' upper world, of honour; and myself Who in this torment do partake with them, Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife Of savage temper, more than aught beside Hath to this evil brought." If from the fire

I had been shelter'd, down amidst them straight I then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem, Would have restrain'd my going; but that fear Of the dire burning vanquish'd the desire, Which made me eager of their wish'd embrace.

I then began: "Not scorn, but grief much more,

Such as long time alone can cure, your doom Fix'd deep within me, soon as this my lord Spake words, whose tenour taught me to expect That such a race, as ye are, was at hand.

I am a countryman of yours, who still Affectionate have utter'd, and have heard

Your deeds and names renown'd. Leaving the gall For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide

Hath promis'd to me. But behooves, that far As to the centre first I downward tend."

"So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs," He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fame

Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell, If courtesy and valour, as they wont,

Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean? For one amidst us late condemn'd to wail, Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers, Grieves us no little by the news he brings."

"An upstart multitude and sudden gains, Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee

Engender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!" Thus cried I with my face uprais'd, and they

All three, who for an answer took my words, Look'd at each other, as men look when truth Comes to their ear. "If thou at other times," They all at once rejoin'd, "so easily

Satisfy those, who question, happy thou, Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought! Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime, Returning to behold the radiant stars,

When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, See that of us thou speak among mankind."

This said, they broke the circle, and so swift Fled, that as pinions seem'd their nimble feet.

Not in so short a time might one have said "Amen," as they had vanish'd. Straight my guide Pursu'd his track. I follow'd; and small space Had we pass'd onward, when the water's sound Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce Heard one another's speech for the loud din.

E'en as the river, that holds on its course Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo, On the left side of Apennine, toward The east, which Acquacheta higher up They call, ere it descend into the vale, At Forli by that name no longer known, Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd on

From the' Alpine summit down a precipice, Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads; Thus downward from a craggy steep we found, That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud,

So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn'd. I had a cord that brac'd my girdle round,

Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take The painted leopard. This when I had all Unloosen'd from me (so my master bade)

I gather'd up, and stretch'd it forth to him. Then to the right he turn'd, and from the brink Standing few paces distant, cast it down

Into the deep abyss. "And somewhat strange," Thus to myself I spake, "signal so strange Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye Thus follows." Ah! what caution must men use With those who look not at the deed alone,

But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill!

"Quickly shall come," he said, "what I expect, Thine eye discover quickly, that whereof

Thy thought is dreaming." Ever to that truth, Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears, A man, if possible, should bar his lip;

Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach. But silence here were vain; and by these notes Which now I sing, reader! I swear to thee,

So may they favour find to latest times! That through the gross and murky air I spied

A shape come swimming up, that might have quell'd The stoutest heart with wonder, in such guise

As one returns, who hath been down to loose An anchor grappled fast against some rock, Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies, Who upward springing close draws in his feet.

"LO! the fell monster with the deadly sting!

Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls And firm embattled spears, and with his filth

Taints all the world!" Thus me my guide address'd, And beckon'd him, that he should come to shore, Near to the stony causeway's utmost edge.

Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear'd, His head and upper part expos'd on land, But laid not on the shore his bestial train. His face the semblance of a just man's wore, So kind and gracious was its outward cheer; The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws

Reach'd to the armpits, and the back and breast, And either side, were painted o'er with nodes And orbits. Colours variegated more

Nor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of state With interchangeable embroidery wove, Nor spread Arachne o'er her curious loom.

As ofttimes a light skiff, moor'd to the shore, Stands part in water, part upon the land;

Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor, The beaver settles watching for his prey;

So on the rim, that fenc'd the sand with rock, Sat perch'd the fiend of evil. In the void Glancing, his tail upturn'd its venomous fork,

With sting like scorpion's arm'd. Then thus my guide: "Now need our way must turn few steps apart,

Far as to that ill beast, who couches there."

Thereat toward the right our downward course We shap'd, and, better to escape the flame And burning marle, ten paces on the verge Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive,

A little further on mine eye beholds A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand

Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake: "That to the full thy knowledge may extend

Of all this round contains, go now, and mark

The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse. Till thou returnest, I with him meantime

Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe

The aid of his strong shoulders." Thus alone Yet forward on the' extremity I pac'd

Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tri be Were seated. At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs. Against the vapours and the torrid soil

Alternately their shifting hands they plied. Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore

By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.

Noting the visages of some, who lay Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, One of them all I knew not; but perceiv'd,

That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch With colours and with emblems various mark'd, On which it seem'd as if their eye did feed.

And when amongst them looking round I came, A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought,

That wore a lion's countenance and port. Then still my sight pursuing its career, Another I beheld, than blood more red.

A goose display of whiter wing than curd. And one, who bore a fat and azure swine Pictur'd on his white scrip, addressed me thus:

"What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know, Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here Vitaliano on my left shall sit.

A Paduan with these Florentines am I. Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming 'O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch

With the three beaks will bring!'" This said, he writh'd The mouth, and loll'd the tongue out, like an ox

That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay

He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd.

My guide already seated on the haunch Of the fierce animal I found; and thus

He me encourag'd. "Be thou stout; be bold. Down such a steep flight must we now descend! Mount thou before: for that no power the tail May have to harm thee, I will be i' th' midst."

As one, who hath an ague fit so near, His nails already are turn'd blue, and he Quivers all o'er, if he but eye the shade;

Such was my cheer at hearing of his words.

But shame soon interpos'd her threat, who makes The servant bold in presence of his lord.

I settled me upon those shoulders huge,

And would have said, but that the words to aid My purpose came not, "Look thou clasp me firm!"

But he whose succour then not first I prov'd, Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake: "Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres Of ample circuit, easy thy descent.

Think on th' unusual burden thou sustain'st."

As a small vessel, back'ning out from land, Her station quits; so thence the monster loos'd, And when he felt himself at large, turn'd round

There where the breast had been, his forked tail. Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd, Gath'ring the air up with retractile claws.

Not greater was the dread when Phaeton

The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceiv'd,

By liquefaction of the scalded wax,

The trusted pennons loosen'd from his loins, His sire exclaiming loud, "Ill way thou keep'st!"

Than was my dread, when round me on each part The air I view'd, and other object none

Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels His downward motion, unobserv'd of me,

But that the wind, arising to my face,

Breathes on me from below. Now on our right I heard the cataract beneath us leap

With hideous crash; whence bending down to' explore, New terror I conceiv'd at the steep plunge:

For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: So that all trembling close I crouch'd my limbs, And then distinguish'd, unperceiv'd before,

By the dread torments that on every side

Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound.

As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair

The falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!" Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky

In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits At distance from his lord in angry mood; So Geryon lighting places us on foot

Low down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock, And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwith Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.

THERE is a place within the depths of hell Call'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'd With hue ferruginous, e'en as the steep

That round it circling winds. Right in the midst Of that abominable region, yawns

A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains, Throughout its round, between the gulf and base Of the high craggy banks, successive forms

Ten trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk.

As where to guard the walls, full many a foss Begirds some stately castle, sure defence Affording to the space within, so here

Were model'd these; and as like fortresses E'en from their threshold to the brink without,

Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low base Thus flinty paths advanc'd, that 'cross the moles And dikes, struck onward far as to the gulf,

That in one bound collected cuts them off.

Such was the place, wherein we found ourselves From Geryon's back dislodg'd. The bard to left Held on his way, and I behind him mov'd.

On our right hand new misery I saw, New pains, new executioners of wrath,

That swarming peopled the first chasm. Below Were naked sinners. Hitherward they came,

Meeting our faces from the middle point, With us beyond but with a larger stride. E'en thus the Romans, when the year returns Of Jubilee, with better speed to rid

The thronging multitudes, their means devise For such as pass the bridge; that on one side All front toward the castle, and approach

Saint Peter's fane, on th' other towards the m ount.

Each divers way along the grisly rock, Horn'd demons I beheld, with lashes huge, That on their back unmercifully smote.

Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripe! None for the second waited nor the third.

Meantime as on I pass'd, one met my sight Whom soon as view'd; "Of him," cried I, "not yet Mine eye hath had his fill." With fixed gaze

I therefore scann'd him. Straight the teacher kind Paus'd with me, and consented I should walk Backward a space, and the tormented spirit,

Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down. But it avail'd him nought; for I exclaim'd: "Thou who dost cast thy eye upon the ground, Unless thy features do belie thee much, Venedico art thou. But what brings thee

Into this bitter seas'ning?" He replied: "Unwillingly I answer to thy words.

But thy clear speech, that to my mind recalls The world I once inhabited, constrains me. Know then 'twas I who led fair Ghisola

To do the Marquis' will, however fame The shameful tale have bruited. Nor alone Bologna hither sendeth me to mourn Rather with us the place is so o'erthrong'd

That not so many tongues this day are taught, Betwixt the Reno and Savena's stream,

To answer SIPA in their country's phrase. And if of that securer proof thou need, Remember but our craving thirst for gold."

Him speaking thus, a demon with his thong Struck, and exclaim'd, "Away! corrupter! here Women are none for sale." Forthwith I join'd My escort, and few paces thence we came

To where a rock forth issued from the bank. That easily ascended, to the right

Upon its splinter turning, we depart

From those eternal barriers. When arriv'd, Where underneath the gaping arch lets pass

The scourged souls: "Pause here," the teacher said, "And let these others miserable, now

Strike on thy ken, faces not yet beheld,

For that together they with us have walk'd."

From the old bridge we ey'd the pack, who came From th' other side towards us, like the rest, Excoriate from the lash. My gentle guide,

By me unquestion'd, thus his speech resum'd: "Behold that lofty shade, who this way tends, And seems too woe-begone to drop a tear.

How yet the regal aspect he retains! Jason is he, whose skill and prowess won

The ram from Colchos. To the Lemnian isle His passage thither led him, when those bold And pitiless women had slain all their males. There he with tokens and fair witching words Hypsipyle beguil'd, a virgin young,

Who first had all the rest herself beguil'd. Impregnated he left her there forlorn.

Such is the guilt condemns him to this pain. Here too Medea's inj'ries are avenged.

All bear him company, who like deceit

To his have practis'd. And thus much to know Of the first vale suffice thee, and of those

Whom its keen torments urge." Now had we come Where, crossing the next pier, the straighten'd path Bestrides its shoulders to another arch.

Hence in the second chasm we heard the ghosts, Who jibber in low melancholy sounds,

With wide-stretch'd nostrils snort, and on themselves Smite with their palms. Upon the banks a scurf From the foul steam condens'd, encrusting hung, That held sharp combat with the sight and smell.

So hollow is the depth, that from no part, Save on the summit of the rocky span,

Could I distinguish aught. Thus far we came; And thence I saw, within the foss below,

A crowd immers'd in ordure, that appear'd Draff of the human body. There beneath Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark'd

One with his head so grim'd, 't were hard to deem, If he were clerk or layman. Loud he cried:

"Why greedily thus bendest more on me, Than on these other filthy ones, thy ken?"

"Because if true my mem'ry," I replied,

"I heretofore have seen thee with dry locks, And thou Alessio art of Lucca sprung.

Therefore than all the rest I scan thee more."

Then beating on his brain these words he spake: "Me thus low down my flatteries have sunk, Wherewith I ne'er enough could glut my tongue."

My leader thus: "A little further stretch

Thy face, that thou the visage well mayst note Of that besotted, sluttish courtezan,

Who there doth rend her with defiled nails, Now crouching down, now risen on her feet.

"Thais is this, the harlot, whose false lip Answer'd her doting paramour that ask'd, 'Thankest me much!'-'Say rather wondrously,' And seeing this here satiate be our view."

WOE to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you,

His wretched followers! who the things of God, Which should be wedded unto goodness, them, Rapacious as ye are, do prostitute

For gold and silver in adultery!

Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yours Is the third chasm. Upon the following vault

We now had mounted, where the rock impends Directly o'er the centre of the foss.

Wisdom Supreme! how wonderful the art, Which thou dost manifest in heaven, in earth, And in the evil world, how just a meed

Allotting by thy virtue unto all!

I saw the livid stone, throughout the sides And in its bottom full of apertures,

All equal in their width, and circular each, Nor ample less nor larger they appear'd Than in Saint John's fair dome of me belov'd

Those fram'd to hold the pure baptismal streams, One of the which I brake, some few years past, To save a whelming infant; and be this

A seal to undeceive whoever doubts

The motive of my deed. From out the mouth Of every one, emerg'd a sinner's feet

And of the legs high upward as the calf The rest beneath was hid. On either foot

The soles were burning, whence the flexile joints Glanc'd with such violent motion, as had snapt Asunder cords or twisted withs. As flame, Feeding on unctuous matter, glides along

The surface, scarcely touching where it moves; So here, from heel to point, glided the flames.

"Master! say who is he, than all the rest Glancing in fiercer agony, on whom

A ruddier flame doth prey?" I thus inquir'd.

"If thou be willing," he replied, "that I

Carry thee down, where least the slope bank falls, He of himself shall tell thee and his wrongs."

I then: "As pleases thee to me is best.

Thou art my lord; and know'st that ne'er I quit Thy will: what silence hides that knowest thou." Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn'd, And on our left descended to the depth,

A narrow strait and perforated close.

Nor from his side my leader set me down, Till to his orifice he brought, whose limb

Quiv'ring express'd his pang. "Whoe'er thou art, Sad spirit! thus revers'd, and as a stake

Driv'n in the soil!" I in these words began, "If thou be able, utter forth thy voice."

There stood I like the friar, that doth shrive

A wretch for murder doom'd, who e'en when fix'd, Calleth him back, whence death awhile delays.

He shouted: "Ha! already standest there? Already standest there, O Boniface!

By many a year the writing play'd me false. So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth, For which thou fearedst not in guile to take The lovely lady, and then mangle her?"

I felt as those who, piercing not the drift Of answer made them, stand as if expos'd In mockery, nor know what to reply,

When Virgil thus admonish'd: "Tell him quick, I am not he, not he, whom thou believ'st."

And I, as was enjoin'd me, straight replied.

That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet, And sighing next in woeful accent spake: "What then of me requirest?" "If to know So much imports thee, who I am, that thou

Hast therefore down the bank descended, learn That in the mighty mantle I was rob'd,

And of a she-bear was indeed the son,

So eager to advance my whelps, that there My having in my purse above I stow'd,

And here myself. Under my head are dragg'd The rest, my predecessors in the guilt

Of simony. Stretch'd at their length they lie Along an opening in the rock. 'Midst them I also low shall fall, soon as he comes,

For whom I took thee, when so hastily I question'd. But already longer time

Hath pass'd, since my souls kindled, and I thus Upturn'd have stood, than is his doom to stand Planted with fiery feet. For after him,

One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive, From forth the west, a shepherd without law, Fated to cover both his form and mine.

He a new Jason shall be call'd, of whom In Maccabees we read; and favour such As to that priest his king indulgent show'd,

Shall be of France's monarch shown to him."

I know not if I here too far presum'd,

But in this strain I answer'd: "Tell me now, What treasures from St. Peter at the first Our Lord demanded, when he put the keys Into his charge? Surely he ask'd no more But, Follow me! Nor Peter nor the rest

Or gold or silver of Matthias took,

When lots were cast upon the forfeit place Of the condemned soul. Abide thou then; Thy punishment of right is merited:

And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin, Which against Charles thy hardihood inspir'd. If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not, Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet Severer speech might use. Your avarice O'ercasts the world with mourning, under foot Treading the good, and raising bad men up.

Of shepherds, like to you, th' Evangelist

Was ware, when her, who sits upon the waves, With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld,

She who with seven heads tower'd at her birth, And from ten horns her proof of glory drew, Long as her spouse in virtue took delight.

Of gold and silver ye have made your god, Diff'ring wherein from the idolater,

But he that worships one, a hundred ye?

Ah, Constantine! to how much ill gave birth, Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower,

Which the first wealthy Father gain'd from thee!"

Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrath Or conscience smote him, violent upsprang Spinning on either sole. I do believe

My teacher well was pleas'd, with so compos'd A lip, he listen'd ever to the sound

Of the true words I utter'd. In both arms He caught, and to his bosom lifting me Upward retrac'd the way of his descent.

Nor weary of his weight he press'd me close, Till to the summit of the rock we came,

Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier. His cherish'd burden there gently he plac'd Upon the rugged rock and steep, a path

Not easy for the clamb'ring goat to mount. Thence to my view another vale appear'd

AND now the verse proceeds to torments new, Fit argument of this the twentieth strain

Of the first song, whose awful theme records The spirits whelm'd in woe. Earnest I look'd Into the depth, that open'd to my view, Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheld A tribe, that came along the hollow vale,

In silence weeping: such their step as walk Quires chanting solemn litanies on earth.

As on them more direct mine eye descends, Each wondrously seem'd to be revers'd

At the neck-bone, so that the countenance Was from the reins averted: and because

None might before him look, they were compell'd To' advance with backward gait. Thus one perhaps Hath been by force of palsy clean transpos'd,

But I ne'er saw it nor believe it so.

Now, reader! think within thyself, so God Fruit of thy reading give thee! how I long Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld Near me our form distorted in such guise, That on the hinder parts fall'n from the face

The tears down-streaming roll'd. Against a rock I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim'd: "What, and art thou too witless as the rest?

Here pity most doth show herself alive, When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his,

Who with Heaven's judgment in his passion strives? Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the man, Before whose eyes earth gap'd in Thebes, when all Cried out, 'Amphiaraus, whither rushest?

'Why leavest thou the war?' He not the less Fell ruining far as to Minos down,

Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makes The breast his shoulders, and who once too far Before him wish'd to see, now backward looks, And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note,

Who semblance chang'd, when woman he became Of male, through every limb transform'd, and then Once more behov'd him with his rod to strike

The two entwining serpents, ere the plumes, That mark'd the better sex, might shoot again.

"Aruns, with more his belly facing, comes. On Luni's mountains 'midst the marbles white,

Where delves Carrara's hind, who wons beneath, A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars And main-sea wide in boundless view he held.

"The next, whose loosen'd tresses overspread Her bosom, which thou seest not (for each hair On that side grows) was Manto, she who search'd Through many regions, and at length her seat Fix'd in my native land, whence a short space My words detain thy audience. When her sire From life departed, and in servitude

The city dedicate to Bacchus mourn'd,

Long time she went a wand'rer through the world. Aloft in Italy's delightful land

A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp, That o'er the Tyrol locks Germania in,

Its name Benacus, which a thousand rills, Methinks, and more, water between the vale Camonica and Garda and the height

Of Apennine remote. There is a spot

At midway of that lake, where he who bears Of Trento's flock the past'ral staff, with him Of Brescia, and the Veronese, might each Passing that way his benediction give.

A garrison of goodly site and strong Peschiera stands, to awe with front oppos'd

The Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shore More slope each way descends. There, whatsoev'er Benacus' bosom holds not, tumbling o'er

Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath Through the green pastures. Soon as in his course The steam makes head, Benacus then no more They call the name, but Mincius, till at last Reaching Governo into Po he falls.

Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat It finds, which overstretchmg as a marsh

It covers, pestilent in summer oft.

Hence journeying, the savage maiden saw 'Midst of the fen a territory waste

And naked of inhabitants. To shun

All human converse, here she with her slaves Plying her arts remain'd, and liv'd, and left Her body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes,

 

 

Who round were scatter'd, gath'ring to that place Assembled; for its strength was great, enclos'd On all parts by the fen. On those dead bones They rear'd themselves a city, for her sake, Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot,

Nor ask'd another omen for the name, Wherein more numerous the people dwelt, Ere Casalodi's madness by deceit

Was wrong'd of Pinamonte. If thou hear Henceforth another origin assign'd

Of that my country, I forewarn thee now,

That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth."

I answer'd: "Teacher, I conclude thy words So certain, that all else shall be to me

As embers lacking life. But now of these, Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see Any that merit more especial note.

For thereon is my mind alone intent."

He straight replied: "That spirit, from whose cheek The beard sweeps o'er his shoulders brown, what time Graecia was emptied of her males, that scarce

The cradles were supplied, the seer was he In Aulis, who with Calchas gave the sign

When first to cut the cable. Him they nam'd Eurypilus: so sings my tragic strain,

In which majestic measure well thou know'st, Who know'st it all. That other, round the loins So slender of his shape, was Michael Scot, Practis'd in ev'ry slight of magic wile.

"Guido Bonatti see: Asdente mark,

Who now were willing, he had tended still The thread and cordwain; and too late repents.

"See next the wretches, who the needle left, The shuttle and the spindle, and became Diviners: baneful witcheries they wrought With images and herbs. But onward now:

For now doth Cain with fork of thorns confine On either hemisphere, touching the wave Beneath the towers of Seville. Yesternight

The moon was round. Thou mayst remember well: For she good service did thee in the gloom

Of the deep wood." This said, both onward mov'd.

THUS we from bridge to bridge, with other talk, The which my drama cares not to rehearse, Pass'd on; and to the summit reaching, stood

To view another gap, within the round Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs.

Marvelous darkness shadow'd o'er the place. In the Venetians' arsenal as boils

Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear

Their unsound vessels; for th' inclement time Sea-faring men restrains, and in that while His bark one builds anew, another stops

The ribs of his, that hath made many a voyage; One hammers at the prow, one at the poop; This shapeth oars, that other cables twirls,

The mizen one repairs and main-sail rent So not by force of fire but art divine

Boil'd here a glutinous thick mass, that round Lim'd all the shore beneath. I that beheld,

But therein nought distinguish'd, save the surge, Rais'd by the boiling, in one mighty swell

Heave, and by turns subsiding and fall. While there I fix'd my ken below, "Mark! mark!" my guide Exclaiming, drew me towards him from the place, Wherein I stood. I turn'd myself as one,

Impatient to behold that which beheld

He needs must shun, whom sudden fear unmans, That he his flight delays not for the view.

Behind me I discern'd a devil black,

That running, up advanc'd along the rock. Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake! In act how bitter did he seem, with wings

Buoyant outstretch'd and feet of nimblest tread! His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp

Was with a sinner charg'd; by either haunch He held him, the foot's sinew griping fast.

"Ye of our bridge!" he cried, "keen-talon'd fiends! Lo! one of Santa Zita's elders! Him

Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more. That land hath store of such. All men are there, Except Bonturo, barterers: of 'no'

For lucre there an 'aye' is quickly made."

Him dashing down, o'er the rough rock he turn'd, Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos'd

Sped with like eager haste. That other sank And forthwith writing to the surface rose.

But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge, Cried "Here the hallow'd visage saves not: here Is other swimming than in Serchio's wave.

Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not,

Take heed thou mount not o'er the pitch." This sai d, They grappled him with more than hundred hooks, And shouted: "Cover'd thou must sport thee here; So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch."

E'en thus the cook bestirs him, with his grooms, To thrust the flesh into the caldron down

With flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top.

Me then my guide bespake: "Lest they descry, That thou art here, behind a craggy rock

Bend low and screen thee; and whate'er of force Be offer'd me, or insult, fear thou not:

For I am well advis'd, who have been erst In the like fray." Beyond the bridge's head

Therewith he pass'd, and reaching the sixth pier, Behov'd him then a forehead terror-proof.

With storm and fury, as when dogs rush forth Upon the poor man's back, who suddenly

From whence he standeth makes his suit; so rush'd Those from beneath the arch, and against him Their weapons all they pointed. He aloud:

"Be none of you outrageous: ere your time

Dare seize me, come forth from amongst you one,

"Who having heard my words, decide he then

If he shall tear these limbs." They shouted loud, "Go, Malacoda!" Whereat one advanc'd,

The others standing firm, and as he came, "What may this turn avail him?" he exclaim'd.

"Believ'st thou, Malacoda! I had come Thus far from all your skirmishing secure," My teacher answered, "without will divine And destiny propitious? Pass we then

For so Heaven's pleasure is, that I should lead Another through this savage wilderness."

Forthwith so fell his pride, that he let drop The instrument of torture at his feet,

And to the rest exclaim'd: "We have no power

To strike him." Then to me my guide: "O thou! Who on the bridge among the crags dost sit Low crouching, safely now to me return."

I rose, and towards him moved with speed: the fiends Meantime all forward drew: me terror seiz'd

Lest they should break the compact they had made. Thus issuing from Caprona, once I saw

Th' infantry dreading, lest his covenant

The foe should break; so close he hemm'd them round.

I to my leader's side adher'd, mine eyes With fixt and motionless observance bent On their unkindly visage. They their hooks Protruding, one the other thus bespake:

"Wilt thou I touch him on the hip?" To whom Was answer'd: "Even so; nor miss thy aim."

But he, who was in conf'rence with my guide, Turn'd rapid round, and thus the demon spake: "Stay, stay thee, Scarmiglione!" Then to us He added: "Further footing to your step

This rock affords not, shiver'd to the base