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  • 1308-1321
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When he became aware of some delay,
Which I before my answer made, supine He fell again, and forth appeared no more.

But the other, magnanimous, at whose desire I had remained, did not his aspect change, Neither his neck he moved, nor bent his side.

“And if,” continuing his first discourse, “They have that art,” he said, “not learned aright, That more tormenteth me, than doth this bed.

But fifty times shall not rekindled be The countenance of the Lady who reigns here, Ere thou shalt know how heavy is that art;

And as thou wouldst to the sweet world return, Say why that people is so pitiless
Against my race in each one of its laws?”

Whence I to him: “The slaughter and great carnage Which have with crimson stained the Arbia, cause Such orisons in our temple to be made.”

After his head he with a sigh had shaken, “There I was not alone,” he said, “nor surely Without a cause had with the others moved.

But there I was alone, where every one Consented to the laying waste of Florence, He who defended her with open face.”

“Ah! so hereafter may your seed repose,” I him entreated, “solve for me that knot, Which has entangled my conceptions here.

It seems that you can see, if I hear rightly, Beforehand whatsoe’er time brings with it, And in the present have another mode.”

“We see, like those who have imperfect sight, The things,” he said, “that distant are from us; So much still shines on us the Sovereign Ruler.

When they draw near, or are, is wholly vain Our intellect, and if none brings it to us, Not anything know we of your human state.

Hence thou canst understand, that wholly dead Will be our knowledge from the moment when The portal of the future shall be closed.”

Then I, as if compunctious for my fault, Said: “Now, then, you will tell that fallen one, That still his son is with the living joined.

And if just now, in answering, I was dumb, Tell him I did it because I was thinking Already of the error you have solved me.”

And now my Master was recalling me,
Wherefore more eagerly I prayed the spirit That he would tell me who was with him there.

He said: “With more than a thousand here I lie; Within here is the second Frederick,
And the Cardinal, and of the rest I speak not.”

Thereon he hid himself; and I towards The ancient poet turned my steps, reflecting Upon that saying, which seemed hostile to me.

He moved along; and afterward thus going, He said to me, “Why art thou so bewildered?” And I in his inquiry satisfied him.

“Let memory preserve what thou hast heard Against thyself,” that Sage commanded me, “And now attend here;” and he raised his finger.

“When thou shalt be before the radiance sweet Of her whose beauteous eyes all things behold, From her thou’lt know the journey of thy life.”

Unto the left hand then he turned his feet; We left the wall, and went towards the middle, Along a path that strikes into a valley,

Which even up there unpleasant made its stench.

Inferno: Canto XI

Upon the margin of a lofty bank
Which great rocks broken in a circle made, We came upon a still more cruel throng;

And there, by reason of the horrible
Excess of stench the deep abyss throws out, We drew ourselves aside behind the cover

Of a great tomb, whereon I saw a writing, Which said: “Pope Anastasius I hold,
Whom out of the right way Photinus drew.”

“Slow it behoveth our descent to be,
So that the sense be first a little used To the sad blast, and then we shall not heed it.”

The Master thus; and unto him I said, “Some compensation find, that the time pass not Idly;” and he: “Thou seest I think of that.

My son, upon the inside of these rocks,” Began he then to say, “are three small circles, From grade to grade, like those which thou art leaving.

They all are full of spirits maledict; But that hereafter sight alone suffice thee, Hear how and wherefore they are in constraint.

Of every malice that wins hate in Heaven, Injury is the end; and all such end
Either by force or fraud afflicteth others.

But because fraud is man’s peculiar vice, More it displeases God; and so stand lowest The fraudulent, and greater dole assails them.

All the first circle of the Violent is; But since force may be used against three persons, In three rounds ’tis divided and constructed.

To God, to ourselves, and to our neighbour can we Use force; I say on them and on their things, As thou shalt hear with reason manifest.

A death by violence, and painful wounds, Are to our neighbour given; and in his substance Ruin, and arson, and injurious levies;

Whence homicides, and he who smites unjustly, Marauders, and freebooters, the first round Tormenteth all in companies diverse.

Man may lay violent hands upon himself And his own goods; and therefore in the second Round must perforce without avail repent

Whoever of your world deprives himself, Who games, and dissipates his property, And weepeth there, where he should jocund be.

Violence can be done the Deity,
In heart denying and blaspheming Him, And by disdaining Nature and her bounty.

And for this reason doth the smallest round Seal with its signet Sodom and Cahors,
And who, disdaining God, speaks from the heart.

Fraud, wherewithal is every conscience stung, A man may practise upon him who trusts, And him who doth no confidence imburse.

This latter mode, it would appear, dissevers Only the bond of love which Nature makes; Wherefore within the second circle nestle

Hypocrisy, flattery, and who deals in magic, Falsification, theft, and simony,
Panders, and barrators, and the like filth.

By the other mode, forgotten is that love Which Nature makes, and what is after added, From which there is a special faith engendered.

Hence in the smallest circle, where the point is Of the Universe, upon which Dis is seated, Whoe’er betrays for ever is consumed.”

And I: “My Master, clear enough proceeds Thy reasoning, and full well distinguishes This cavern and the people who possess it.

But tell me, those within the fat lagoon, Whom the wind drives, and whom the rain doth beat, And who encounter with such bitter tongues,

Wherefore are they inside of the red city Not punished, if God has them in his wrath, And if he has not, wherefore in such fashion?”

And unto me he said: “Why wanders so
Thine intellect from that which it is wont? Or, sooth, thy mind where is it elsewhere looking?

Hast thou no recollection of those words With which thine Ethics thoroughly discusses The dispositions three, that Heaven abides not,–

Incontinence, and Malice, and insane
Bestiality? and how Incontinence
Less God offendeth, and less blame attracts?

If thou regardest this conclusion well, And to thy mind recallest who they are
That up outside are undergoing penance,

Clearly wilt thou perceive why from these felons They separated are, and why less wroth
Justice divine doth smite them with its hammer.”

“O Sun, that healest all distempered vision, Thou dost content me so, when thou resolvest, That doubting pleases me no less than knowing!

Once more a little backward turn thee,” said I, “There where thou sayest that usury offends Goodness divine, and disengage the knot.”

“Philosophy,” he said, “to him who heeds it, Noteth, not only in one place alone,
After what manner Nature takes her course

From Intellect Divine, and from its art; And if thy Physics carefully thou notest, After not many pages shalt thou find,

That this your art as far as possible Follows, as the disciple doth the master; So that your art is, as it were, God’s grandchild.

From these two, if thou bringest to thy mind Genesis at the beginning, it behoves
Mankind to gain their life and to advance;

And since the usurer takes another way, Nature herself and in her follower
Disdains he, for elsewhere he puts his hope.

But follow, now, as I would fain go on, For quivering are the Fishes on the horizon, And the Wain wholly over Caurus lies,

And far beyond there we descend the crag.”

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.

Inferno: 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 Corneto 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.”

Inferno: 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 that
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.”

Inferno: Canto XV

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.

Inferno: 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 by 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.

Inferno: 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 may 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.

Inferno: 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, 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.”

Inferno: 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.

Inferno: 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.

Inferno: 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.