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  • 1308–1321
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Man’s evil and his virtue. Forth I sail’d Into the deep illimitable main,
With but one bark, and the small faithful band That yet cleav’d to me. As Iberia far,
Far as Morocco either shore I saw,
And the Sardinian and each isle beside Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age Were I and my companions, when we came
To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain’d The bound’ries not to be o’erstepp’d by man. The walls of Seville to my right I left, On the’ other hand already Ceuta past.

“O brothers!” I began, “who to the west Through perils without number now have reach’d, To this the short remaining watch, that yet Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof Of the unpeopled world, following the track Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang: Ye were not form’d to live the life of brutes But virtue to pursue and knowledge high. With these few words I sharpen’d for the voyage The mind of my associates, that I then
Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn Our poop we turn’d, and for the witless flight Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left. Each star of the’ other pole night now beheld, And ours so low, that from the ocean-floor It rose not. Five times re-illum’d, as oft Vanish’d the light from underneath the moon Since the deep way we enter’d, when from far Appear’d a mountain dim, loftiest methought Of all I e’er beheld. Joy seiz’d us straight, But soon to mourning changed. From the new land A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl’d her round With all the waves, the fourth time lifted up The poop, and sank the prow: so fate decreed: And over us the booming billow clos’d.”

CANTO XVII

NOW upward rose the flame, and still’d its light To speak no more, and now pass’d on with leave From the mild poet gain’d, when following came Another, from whose top a sound confus’d, Forth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look.

As the Sicilian bull, that rightfully His cries first echoed, who had shap’d its mould, Did so rebellow, with the voice of him
Tormented, that the brazen monster seem’d Pierc’d through with pain; thus while no way they found Nor avenue immediate through the flame,
Into its language turn’d the dismal words: But soon as they had won their passage forth, Up from the point, which vibrating obey’d Their motion at the tongue, these sounds we heard: “O thou! to whom I now direct my voice!
That lately didst exclaim in Lombard phrase,

“Depart thou, I solicit thee no more, Though somewhat tardy I perchance arrive Let it not irk thee here to pause awhile, And with me parley: lo! it irks not me
And yet I burn. If but e’en now thou fall into this blind world, from that pleasant land Of Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt, Tell me if those, who in Romagna dwell,
Have peace or war. For of the mountains there Was I, betwixt Urbino and the height,
Whence Tyber first unlocks his mighty flood.”

Leaning I listen’d yet with heedful ear, When, as he touch’d my side, the leader thus: “Speak thou: he is a Latian.” My reply
Was ready, and I spake without delay:

“O spirit! who art hidden here below! Never was thy Romagna without war
In her proud tyrants’ bosoms, nor is now: But open war there left I none. The state, Ravenna hath maintain’d this many a year, Is steadfast. There Polenta’s eagle broods, And in his broad circumference of plume
O’ershadows Cervia. The green talons grasp The land, that stood erewhile the proof so long, And pil’d in bloody heap the host of France.

“The’ old mastiff of Verruchio and the young, That tore Montagna in their wrath, still make, Where they are wont, an augre of their fangs.

“Lamone’s city and Santerno’s range
Under the lion of the snowy lair.
Inconstant partisan! that changeth sides, Or ever summer yields to winter’s frost. And she, whose flank is wash’d of Savio’s wave, As ‘twixt the level and the steep she lies, Lives so ‘twixt tyrant power and liberty.

“Now tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou? Be not more hard than others. In the world, So may thy name still rear its forehead high.”

Then roar’d awhile the fire, its sharpen’d point On either side wav’d, and thus breath’d at last: “If I did think, my answer were to one,
Who ever could return unto the world, This flame should rest unshaken. But since ne’er, If true be told me, any from this depth
Has found his upward way, I answer thee, Nor fear lest infamy record the words.

“A man of arms at first, I cloth’d me then In good Saint Francis’ girdle, hoping so T’ have made amends. And certainly my hope Had fail’d not, but that he, whom curses light on, The’ high priest again seduc’d me into sin. And how and wherefore listen while I tell. Long as this spirit mov’d the bones and pulp My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake The nature of the lion than the fox.
All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted, that the sound Reach’d the world’s limit. Soon as to that part Of life I found me come, when each behoves To lower sails and gather in the lines;
That which before had pleased me then I rued, And to repentance and confession turn’d; Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me! The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, Waging his warfare near the Lateran,
Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes All Christians were, nor against Acre one Had fought, nor traffic’d in the Soldan’s land), He his great charge nor sacred ministry
In himself, rev’renc’d, nor in me that cord, Which us’d to mark with leanness whom it girded. As in Socrate, Constantine besought
To cure his leprosy Sylvester’s aid, So me to cure the fever of his pride
This man besought: my counsel to that end He ask’d: and I was silent: for his words Seem’d drunken: but forthwith he thus resum’d: ‘From thy heart banish fear: of all offence I hitherto absolve thee. In return,
Teach me my purpose so to execute,
That Penestrino cumber earth no more. Heav’n, as thou knowest, I have power to shut And open: and the keys are therefore twain, The which my predecessor meanly priz’d.'”

Then, yielding to the forceful arguments, Of silence as more perilous I deem’d,
And answer’d: “Father! since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall, Large promise with performance scant, be sure, Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.”

“When I was number’d with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark
He met, who cried: ‘Wrong me not; he is mine, And must below to join the wretched crew, For the deceitful counsel which he gave. E’er since I watch’d him, hov’ring at his hair, No power can the impenitent absolve;
Nor to repent and will at once consist, By contradiction absolute forbid.'”
Oh mis’ry! how I shook myself, when he Seiz’d me, and cried, “Thou haply thought’st me not A disputant in logic so exact.”
To Minos down he bore me, and the judge Twin’d eight times round his callous back the tail, Which biting with excess of rage, he spake: “This is a guilty soul, that in the fire Must vanish. Hence perdition-doom’d I rove A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb.”

When he had thus fulfill’d his words, the flame In dolour parted, beating to and fro,
And writhing its sharp horn. We onward went, I and my leader, up along the rock,
Far as another arch, that overhangs The foss, wherein the penalty is paid
Of those, who load them with committed sin.

CANTO XXVIII

WHO, e’en in words unfetter’d, might at full Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought Both impotent alike. If in one band
Collected, stood the people all, who e’er Pour’d on Apulia’s happy soil their blood, Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war When of the rings the measur’d booty made A pile so high, as Rome’s historian writes Who errs not, with the multitude, that felt The grinding force of Guiscard’s Norman steel, And those the rest, whose bones are gather’d yet At Ceperano, there where treachery
Branded th’ Apulian name, or where beyond Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms
The old Alardo conquer’d; and his limbs One were to show transpierc’d, another his Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this
Were but a thing of nought, to the’ hideous sight Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide, As one I mark’d, torn from the chin throughout Down to the hinder passage: ‘twixt the legs Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay Open to view, and wretched ventricle,
That turns th’ englutted aliment to dross.

Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze,
He ey’d me, with his hands laid his breast bare, And cried; “Now mark how I do rip me! lo!

“How is Mohammed mangled! before me
Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face Cleft to the forelock; and the others all Whom here thou seest, while they liv’d, did sow Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent. A fiend is here behind, who with his sword Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again
Each of this ream, when we have compast round The dismal way, for first our gashes close Ere we repass before him. But say who
Art thou, that standest musing on the rock, Haply so lingering to delay the pain
Sentenc’d upon thy crimes?”–“Him death not yet,” My guide rejoin’d, “hath overta’en, nor sin Conducts to torment; but, that he may make Full trial of your state, I who am dead
Must through the depths of hell, from orb to orb, Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true.”

More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard, Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed, Forgetful of their pangs. “Thou, who perchance Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not Here soon to follow me, that with good store Of food he arm him, lest impris’ning snows Yield him a victim to Novara’s power,
No easy conquest else.” With foot uprais’d For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground Then fix’d it to depart. Another shade,
Pierc’d in the throat, his nostrils mutilate E’en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood Gazing, before the rest advanc’d, and bar’d His wind-pipe, that without was all o’ersmear’d With crimson stain. “O thou!” said he, “whom sin Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft
Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind Piero of Medicina, if again
Returning, thou behold’st the pleasant land That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;

“And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo,
That if ‘t is giv’n us here to scan aright The future, they out of life’s tenement
Shall be cast forth, and whelm’d under the waves Near to Cattolica, through perfidy
Of a fell tyrant. ‘Twixt the Cyprian isle And Balearic, ne’er hath Neptune seen
An injury so foul, by pirates done
Or Argive crew of old. That one-ey’d traitor (Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain His eye had still lack’d sight of) them shall bring To conf’rence with him, then so shape his end, That they shall need not ‘gainst Focara’s wind Offer up vow nor pray’r.” I answering thus:

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

Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws
Expanding, cried: “Lo! this is he I wot of; He speaks not for himself: the outcast this Who overwhelm’d the doubt in Caesar’s mind, Affirming that delay to men prepar’d
Was ever harmful.” Oh how terrified Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut The tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then one Maim’d of each hand, uplifted in the gloom The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots Sullied his face, and cried: “‘Remember thee Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim’d,
‘The deed once done there is an end,’ that prov’d A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race.”

I added: “Ay, and death to thine own tribe.”

Whence heaping woe on woe he hurried off, As one grief stung to madness. But I there Still linger’d to behold the troop, and saw Things, such as I may fear without more proof To tell of, but that conscience makes me firm, The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within And bids him on and fear not. Without doubt I saw, and yet it seems to pass before me, A headless trunk, that even as the rest
Of the sad flock pac’d onward. By the hair It bore the sever’d member, lantern-wise Pendent in hand, which look’d at us and said,

“Woe’s me!” The spirit lighted thus himself, And two there were in one, and one in two. How that may be he knows who ordereth so.

When at the bridge’s foot direct he stood, His arm aloft he rear’d, thrusting the head Full in our view, that nearer we might hear The words, which thus it utter’d: “Now behold This grievous torment, thou, who breathing go’st To spy the dead; behold if any else
Be terrible as this. And that on earth Thou mayst bear tidings of me, know that I Am Bertrand, he of Born, who gave King John The counsel mischievous. Father and son
I set at mutual war. For Absalom
And David more did not Ahitophel,
Spurring them on maliciously to strife. For parting those so closely knit, my brain Parted, alas! I carry from its source,
That in this trunk inhabits. Thus the law Of retribution fiercely works in me.”

CANTO XXIX

SO were mine eyes inebriate with view Of the vast multitude, whom various wounds Disfigur’d, that they long’d to stay and weep.

But Virgil rous’d me: “What yet gazest on? Wherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below Among the maim’d and miserable shades?
Thou hast not shewn in any chasm beside This weakness. Know, if thou wouldst number them That two and twenty miles the valley winds Its circuit, and already is the moon
Beneath our feet: the time permitted now Is short, and more not seen remains to see.”

“If thou,” I straight replied, “hadst weigh’d the cause For which I look’d, thou hadst perchance excus’d The tarrying still.” My leader part pursu’d His way, the while I follow’d, answering him, And adding thus: “Within that cave I deem, Whereon so fixedly I held my ken,
There is a spirit dwells, one of my blood, Wailing the crime that costs him now so dear.”

Then spake my master: “Let thy soul no more Afflict itself for him. Direct elsewhere Its thought, and leave him. At the bridge’s foot I mark’d how he did point with menacing look At thee, and heard him by the others nam’d Geri of Bello. Thou so wholly then
Wert busied with his spirit, who once rul’d The towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst not That way, ere he was gone.”–“O guide belov’d! His violent death yet unaveng’d,” said I, “By any, who are partners in his shame,
Made him contemptuous: therefore, as I think, He pass’d me speechless by; and doing so Hath made me more compassionate his fate.”

So we discours’d to where the rock first show’d The other valley, had more light been there, E’en to the lowest depth. Soon as we came O’er the last cloister in the dismal rounds Of Malebolge, and the brotherhood
Were to our view expos’d, then many a dart Of sore lament assail’d me, headed all
With points of thrilling pity, that I clos’d Both ears against the volley with mine hands.

As were the torment, if each lazar-house Of Valdichiana, in the sultry time
‘Twixt July and September, with the isle Sardinia and Maremma’s pestilent fen,
Had heap’d their maladies all in one foss Together; such was here the torment: dire The stench, as issuing steams from fester’d limbs.

We on the utmost shore of the long rock Descended still to leftward. Then my sight Was livelier to explore the depth, wherein The minister of the most mighty Lord,
All-searching Justice, dooms to punishment The forgers noted on her dread record.

More rueful was it not methinks to see The nation in Aegina droop, what time
Each living thing, e’en to the little worm, All fell, so full of malice was the air
(And afterward, as bards of yore have told, The ancient people were restor’d anew
From seed of emmets) than was here to see The spirits, that languish’d through the murky vale Up-pil’d on many a stack. Confus’d they lay, One o’er the belly, o’er the shoulders one Roll’d of another; sideling crawl’d a third Along the dismal pathway. Step by step
We journey’d on, in silence looking round And list’ning those diseas’d, who strove in vain To lift their forms. Then two I mark’d, that sat Propp’d ‘gainst each other, as two brazen pans Set to retain the heat. From head to foot, A tetter bark’d them round. Nor saw I e’er Groom currying so fast, for whom his lord Impatient waited, or himself perchance
Tir’d with long watching, as of these each one Plied quickly his keen nails, through furiousness Of ne’er abated pruriency. The crust
Came drawn from underneath in flakes, like scales Scrap’d from the bream or fish of broader mail.

“O thou, who with thy fingers rendest off Thy coat of proof,” thus spake my guide to one, “And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them, Tell me if any born of Latian land
Be among these within: so may thy nails Serve thee for everlasting to this toil.”

“Both are of Latium,” weeping he replied, “Whom tortur’d thus thou seest: but who art thou That hast inquir’d of us?” To whom my guide: “One that descend with this man, who yet lives, From rock to rock, and show him hell’s abyss.”

Then started they asunder, and each turn’d Trembling toward us, with the rest, whose ear Those words redounding struck. To me my liege Address’d him: “Speak to them whate’er thou list.”

And I therewith began: “So may no time Filch your remembrance from the thoughts of men In th’ upper world, but after many suns
Survive it, as ye tell me, who ye are, And of what race ye come. Your punishment, Unseemly and disgustful in its kind,
Deter you not from opening thus much to me.”

“Arezzo was my dwelling,” answer’d one, “And me Albero of Sienna brought
To die by fire; but that, for which I died, Leads me not here. True is in sport I told him, That I had learn’d to wing my flight in air. And he admiring much, as he was void
Of wisdom, will’d me to declare to him The secret of mine art: and only hence,
Because I made him not a Daedalus,
Prevail’d on one suppos’d his sire to burn me. But Minos to this chasm last of the ten, For that I practis’d alchemy on earth,
Has doom’d me. Him no subterfuge eludes.”

Then to the bard I spake: “Was ever race Light as Sienna’s? Sure not France herself Can show a tribe so frivolous and vain.”

The other leprous spirit heard my words, And thus return’d: “Be Stricca from this charge Exempted, he who knew so temp’rately
To lay out fortune’s gifts; and Niccolo Who first the spice’s costly luxury
Discover’d in that garden, where such seed Roots deepest in the soil: and be that troop Exempted, with whom Caccia of Asciano
Lavish’d his vineyards and wide-spreading woods, And his rare wisdom Abbagliato show’d
A spectacle for all. That thou mayst know Who seconds thee against the Siennese
Thus gladly, bend this way thy sharpen’d sight, That well my face may answer to thy ken; So shalt thou see I am Capocchio’s ghost, Who forg’d transmuted metals by the power Of alchemy; and if I scan thee right,
Thus needs must well remember how I aped Creative nature by my subtle art.”

CANTO XXX

WHAT time resentment burn’d in Juno’s breast For Semele against the Theban blood,
As more than once in dire mischance was rued, Such fatal frenzy seiz’d on Athamas,
That he his spouse beholding with a babe Laden on either arm, “Spread out,” he cried, “The meshes, that I take the lioness
And the young lions at the pass:” then forth Stretch’d he his merciless talons, grasping one, One helpless innocent, Learchus nam’d,
Whom swinging down he dash’d upon a rock, And with her other burden self-destroy’d The hapless mother plung’d: and when the pride Of all-presuming Troy fell from its height, By fortune overwhelm’d, and the old king With his realm perish’d, then did Hecuba, A wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw Polyxena first slaughter’d, and her son, Her Polydorus, on the wild sea-beach
Next met the mourner’s view, then reft of sense Did she run barking even as a dog;
Such mighty power had grief to wrench her soul. Bet ne’er the Furies or of Thebes or Troy With such fell cruelty were seen, their goads Infixing in the limbs of man or beast,
As now two pale and naked ghost I saw That gnarling wildly scamper’d, like the swine Excluded from his stye. One reach’d Capocchio, And in the neck-joint sticking deep his fangs, Dragg’d him, that o’er the solid pavement rubb’d His belly stretch’d out prone. The other shape, He of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake; “That sprite of air is Schicchi; in like mood Of random mischief vent he still his spite.”

To whom I answ’ring: “Oh! as thou dost hope, The other may not flesh its jaws on thee, Be patient to inform us, who it is,
Ere it speed hence.”–“That is the ancient soul Of wretched Myrrha,” he replied, “who burn’d With most unholy flame for her own sire,

“And a false shape assuming, so perform’d The deed of sin; e’en as the other there, That onward passes, dar’d to counterfeit Donati’s features, to feign’d testament
The seal affixing, that himself might gain, For his own share, the lady of the herd.”

When vanish’d the two furious shades, on whom Mine eye was held, I turn’d it back to view The other cursed spirits. One I saw
In fashion like a lute, had but the groin Been sever’d, where it meets the forked part. Swoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs With ill-converted moisture, that the paunch Suits not the visage, open’d wide his lips Gasping as in the hectic man for drought, One towards the chin, the other upward curl’d.

“O ye, who in this world of misery,
Wherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,” Thus he began, “attentively regard
Adamo’s woe. When living, full supply Ne’er lack’d me of what most I coveted;
One drop of water now, alas! I crave. The rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes Of Casentino, making fresh and soft
The banks whereby they glide to Arno’s stream, Stand ever in my view; and not in vain;
For more the pictur’d semblance dries me up, Much more than the disease, which makes the flesh Desert these shrivel’d cheeks. So from the place, Where I transgress’d, stern justice urging me, Takes means to quicken more my lab’ring sighs. There is Romena, where I falsified
The metal with the Baptist’s form imprest, For which on earth I left my body burnt. But if I here might see the sorrowing soul Of Guido, Alessandro, or their brother,
For Branda’s limpid spring I would not change The welcome sight. One is e’en now within, If truly the mad spirits tell, that round Are wand’ring. But wherein besteads me that? My limbs are fetter’d. Were I but so light, That I each hundred years might move one inch, I had set forth already on this path,
Seeking him out amidst the shapeless crew, Although eleven miles it wind, not more
Than half of one across. They brought me down Among this tribe; induc’d by them I stamp’d The florens with three carats of alloy.”

“Who are that abject pair,” I next inquir’d, “That closely bounding thee upon thy right Lie smoking, like a band in winter steep’d In the chill stream?”–“When to this gulf I dropt,” He answer’d, “here I found them; since that hour They have not turn’d, nor ever shall, I ween, Till time hath run his course. One is that dame The false accuser of the Hebrew youth;
Sinon the other, that false Greek from Troy. Sharp fever drains the reeky moistness out, In such a cloud upsteam’d.” When that he heard, One, gall’d perchance to be so darkly nam’d, With clench’d hand smote him on the braced paunch, That like a drum resounded: but forthwith Adamo smote him on the face, the blow
Returning with his arm, that seem’d as hard.

“Though my o’erweighty limbs have ta’en from me The power to move,” said he, “I have an arm At liberty for such employ.” To whom
Was answer’d: “When thou wentest to the fire, Thou hadst it not so ready at command,
Then readier when it coin’d th’ impostor gold.”

And thus the dropsied: “Ay, now speak’st thou true. But there thou gav’st not such true testimony, When thou wast question’d of the truth, at Troy.”

“If I spake false, thou falsely stamp’dst the coin,” Said Sinon; “I am here but for one fault, And thou for more than any imp beside.”

“Remember,” he replied, “O perjur’d one, The horse remember, that did teem with death, And all the world be witness to thy guilt.”

“To thine,” return’d the Greek, “witness the thirst Whence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound, Rear’d by thy belly up before thine eyes, A mass corrupt.” To whom the coiner thus: “Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass Its evil saying. Me if thirst assails,
Yet I am stuff’d with moisture. Thou art parch’d, Pains rack thy head, no urging would’st thou need To make thee lap Narcissus’ mirror up.”

I was all fix’d to listen, when my guide Admonish’d: “Now beware: a little more.
And I do quarrel with thee.” I perceiv’d How angrily he spake, and towards him turn’d With shame so poignant, as remember’d yet Confounds me. As a man that dreams of harm Befall’n him, dreaming wishes it a dream, And that which is, desires as if it were not, Such then was I, who wanting power to speak Wish’d to excuse myself, and all the while Excus’d me, though unweeting that I did.

“More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,” My master cried, “might expiate. Therefore cast All sorrow from thy soul; and if again
Chance bring thee, where like conference is held, Think I am ever at thy side. To hear
Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.”

CANTO XXXI

THE very tongue, whose keen reproof before Had wounded me, that either cheek was stain’d, Now minister’d my cure. So have I heard, Achilles and his father’s javelin caus’d Pain first, and then the boon of health restor’d.

Turning our back upon the vale of woe, W cross’d th’ encircled mound in silence. There Was twilight dim, that far long the gloom Mine eye advanc’d not: but I heard a horn Sounded aloud. The peal it blew had made The thunder feeble. Following its course The adverse way, my strained eyes were bent On that one spot. So terrible a blast
Orlando blew not, when that dismal rout O’erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench’d His saintly warfare. Thitherward not long My head was rais’d, when many lofty towers Methought I spied. “Master,” said I, “what land Is this?” He answer’d straight: “Too long a space Of intervening darkness has thine eye
To traverse: thou hast therefore widely err’d In thy imagining. Thither arriv’d
Thou well shalt see, how distance can delude The sense. A little therefore urge thee on.”

Then tenderly he caught me by the hand; “Yet know,” said he, “ere farther we advance, That it less strange may seem, these are not towers, But giants. In the pit they stand immers’d, Each from his navel downward, round the bank.”

As when a fog disperseth gradually,
Our vision traces what the mist involves Condens’d in air; so piercing through the gross And gloomy atmosphere, as more and more
We near’d toward the brink, mine error fled, And fear came o’er me. As with circling round Of turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls, E’en thus the shore, encompassing th’ abyss, Was turreted with giants, half their length Uprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav’n Yet threatens, when his mutt’ring thunder rolls.

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

All-teeming nature, when her plastic hand Left framing of these monsters, did display Past doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War Such slaves to do his bidding; and if she Repent her not of th’ elephant and whale, Who ponders well confesses her therein
Wiser and more discreet; for when brute force And evil will are back’d with subtlety,
Resistance none avails. His visage seem’d In length and bulk, as doth the pine, that tops Saint Peter’s Roman fane; and th’ other bones Of like proportion, so that from above
The bank, which girdled him below, such height Arose his stature, that three Friezelanders Had striv’n in vain to reach but to his hair. Full thirty ample palms was he expos’d
Downward from whence a man his garments loops. “Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,”
So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns Became not; and my guide address’d him thus:

“O senseless spirit! let thy horn for thee Interpret: therewith vent thy rage, if rage Or other passion wring thee. Search thy neck, There shalt thou find the belt that binds it on. Wild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breast
Where hangs the baldrick!” Then to me he spake: “He doth accuse himself. Nimrod is this, Through whose ill counsel in the world no more One tongue prevails. But pass we on, nor waste Our words; for so each language is to him, As his to others, understood by none.”

Then to the leftward turning sped we forth, And at a sling’s throw found another shade Far fiercer and more huge. I cannot say
What master hand had girt him; but he held Behind the right arm fetter’d, and before The other with a chain, that fasten’d him From the neck down, and five times round his form Apparent met the wreathed links. “This proud one Would of his strength against almighty Jove Make trial,” said my guide; “whence he is thus Requited: Ephialtes him they call.

“Great was his prowess, when the giants brought Fear on the gods: those arms, which then he piled, Now moves he never.” Forthwith I return’d: “Fain would I, if ‘t were possible, mine eyes Of Briareus immeasurable gain’d
Experience next.” He answer’d: “Thou shalt see Not far from hence Antaeus, who both speaks And is unfetter’d, who shall place us there Where guilt is at its depth. Far onward stands Whom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and made Like to this spirit, save that in his looks More fell he seems.” By violent earthquake rock’d Ne’er shook a tow’r, so reeling to its base, As Ephialtes. More than ever then
I dreaded death, nor than the terror more Had needed, if I had not seen the cords
That held him fast. We, straightway journeying on, Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete
Without the head, forth issued from the cave.

“O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made Great Scipio heir of glory, when his sword Drove back the troop of Hannibal in flight, Who thence of old didst carry for thy spoil An hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought In the high conflict on thy brethren’s side, Seems as men yet believ’d, that through thine arm The sons of earth had conquer’d, now vouchsafe To place us down beneath, where numbing cold Locks up Cocytus. Force not that we crave Or Tityus’ help or Typhon’s. Here is one Can give what in this realm ye covet. Stoop Therefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip. He in the upper world can yet bestow
Renown on thee, for he doth live, and looks For life yet longer, if before the time
Grace call him not unto herself.” Thus spake The teacher. He in haste forth stretch’d his hands, And caught my guide. Alcides whilom felt That grapple straighten’d score. Soon as my guide Had felt it, he bespake me thus: “This way That I may clasp thee;” then so caught me up, That we were both one burden. As appears The tower of Carisenda, from beneath
Where it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud So sail across, that opposite it hangs,
Such then Antaeus seem’d, as at mine ease I mark’d him stooping. I were fain at times T’ have pass’d another way. Yet in th’ abyss, That Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs,
Lightly he plac’d us; nor there leaning stay’d, But rose as in a bark the stately mast.

CANTO XXXII

COULD I command rough rhimes and hoarse, to suit That hole of sorrow, o’er which ev’ry rock His firm abutment rears, then might the vein Of fancy rise full springing: but not mine Such measures, and with falt’ring awe I touch The mighty theme; for to describe the depth Of all the universe, is no emprize
To jest with, and demands a tongue not us’d To infant babbling. But let them assist
My song, the tuneful maidens, by whose aid Amphion wall’d in Thebes, so with the truth My speech shall best accord. Oh ill-starr’d folk, Beyond all others wretched! who abide
In such a mansion, as scarce thought finds words To speak of, better had ye here on earth Been flocks or mountain goats. As down we stood In the dark pit beneath the giants’ feet, But lower far than they, and I did gaze
Still on the lofty battlement, a voice Bespoke me thus: “Look how thou walkest. Take Good heed, thy soles do tread not on the heads Of thy poor brethren.” Thereupon I turn’d, And saw before and underneath my feet
A lake, whose frozen surface liker seem’d To glass than water. Not so thick a veil In winter e’er hath Austrian Danube spread O’er his still course, nor Tanais far remote Under the chilling sky. Roll’d o’er that mass Had Tabernich or Pietrapana fall’n,

Not e’en its rim had creak’d. As peeps the frog Croaking above the wave, what time in dreams The village gleaner oft pursues her toil, So, to where modest shame appears, thus low Blue pinch’d and shrin’d in ice the spirits stood, Moving their teeth in shrill note like the stork. His face each downward held; their mouth the cold, Their eyes express’d the dolour of their heart.

A space I look’d around, then at my feet Saw two so strictly join’d, that of their head The very hairs were mingled. “Tell me ye, Whose bosoms thus together press,” said I, “Who are ye?” At that sound their necks they bent, And when their looks were lifted up to me, Straightway their eyes, before all moist within, Distill’d upon their lips, and the frost bound The tears betwixt those orbs and held them there. Plank unto plank hath never cramp clos’d up So stoutly. Whence like two enraged goats They clash’d together; them such fury seiz’d.

And one, from whom the cold both ears had reft, Exclaim’d, still looking downward: “Why on us Dost speculate so long? If thou wouldst know Who are these two, the valley, whence his wave Bisenzio slopes, did for its master own
Their sire Alberto, and next him themselves. They from one body issued; and throughout Caina thou mayst search, nor find a shade More worthy in congealment to be fix’d,
Not him, whose breast and shadow Arthur’s land At that one blow dissever’d, not Focaccia, No not this spirit, whose o’erjutting head Obstructs my onward view: he bore the name Of Mascheroni: Tuscan if thou be,
Well knowest who he was: and to cut short All further question, in my form behold
What once was Camiccione. I await
Carlino here my kinsman, whose deep guilt Shall wash out mine.” A thousand visages Then mark’d I, which the keen and eager cold Had shap’d into a doggish grin; whence creeps A shiv’ring horror o’er me, at the thought Of those frore shallows. While we journey’d on Toward the middle, at whose point unites All heavy substance, and I trembling went Through that eternal chillness, I know not If will it were or destiny, or chance,
But, passing ‘midst the heads, my foot did strike With violent blow against the face of one.

“Wherefore dost bruise me?” weeping, he exclaim’d, “Unless thy errand be some fresh revenge For Montaperto, wherefore troublest me?”

I thus: “Instructor, now await me here, That I through him may rid me of my doubt. Thenceforth what haste thou wilt.” The teacher paus’d, And to that shade I spake, who bitterly
Still curs’d me in his wrath. “What art thou, speak, That railest thus on others?” He replied: “Now who art thou, that smiting others’ cheeks Through Antenora roamest, with such force As were past suff’rance, wert thou living still?”

“And I am living, to thy joy perchance,” Was my reply, “if fame be dear to thee,
That with the rest I may thy name enrol.”

“The contrary of what I covet most,”
Said he, “thou tender’st: hence; nor vex me more. Ill knowest thou to flatter in this vale.”

Then seizing on his hinder scalp, I cried: “Name thee, or not a hair shall tarry here.”

“Rend all away,” he answer’d, “yet for that I will not tell nor show thee who I am,
Though at my head thou pluck a thousand times.”

Now I had grasp’d his tresses, and stript off More than one tuft, he barking, with his eyes Drawn in and downward, when another cried, “What ails thee, Bocca? Sound not loud enough Thy chatt’ring teeth, but thou must bark outright? What devil wrings thee?”–“Now,” said I, “be dumb, Accursed traitor! to thy shame of thee
True tidings will I bear.”–“Off,” he replied, “Tell what thou list; but as thou escape from hence To speak of him whose tongue hath been so glib, Forget not: here he wails the Frenchman’s gold. ‘Him of Duera,’ thou canst say, ‘I mark’d, Where the starv’d sinners pine.’ If thou be ask’d What other shade was with them, at thy side Is Beccaria, whose red gorge distain’d
The biting axe of Florence. Farther on, If I misdeem not, Soldanieri bides,
With Ganellon, and Tribaldello, him Who op’d Faenza when the people slept.”

We now had left him, passing on our way, When I beheld two spirits by the ice
Pent in one hollow, that the head of one Was cowl unto the other; and as bread
Is raven’d up through hunger, th’ uppermost Did so apply his fangs to th’ other’s brain, Where the spine joins it. Not more furiously On Menalippus’ temples Tydeus gnaw’d,
Than on that skull and on its garbage he.

“O thou who show’st so beastly sign of hate ‘Gainst him thou prey’st on, let me hear,” said I “The cause, on such condition, that if right Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are, And what the colour of his sinning was,
I may repay thee in the world above, If that, wherewith I speak be moist so long.”

CANTO XXXIII

HIS jaws uplifting from their fell repast, That sinner wip’d them on the hairs o’ th’ head, Which he behind had mangled, then began: “Thy will obeying, I call up afresh
Sorrow past cure, which but to think of wrings My heart, or ere I tell on’t. But if words, That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear Fruit of eternal infamy to him,
The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once Shalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst be I know not, nor how here below art come: But Florentine thou seemest of a truth,
When I do hear thee. Know I was on earth Count Ugolino, and th’ Archbishop he
Ruggieri. Why I neighbour him so close, Now list. That through effect of his ill thoughts In him my trust reposing, I was ta’en
And after murder’d, need is not I tell. What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is, How cruel was the murder, shalt thou hear, And know if he have wrong’d me. A small grate Within that mew, which for my sake the name Of famine bears, where others yet must pine, Already through its opening sev’ral moons Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep, That from the future tore the curtain off. This one, methought, as master of the sport, Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf and his whelps Unto the mountain, which forbids the sight Of Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachs
Inquisitive and keen, before him rang’d Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi.
After short course the father and the sons Seem’d tir’d and lagging, and methought I saw The sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awoke Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard My sons (for they were with me) weep and ask For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold; And if not now, why use thy tears to flow? Now had they waken’d; and the hour drew near When they were wont to bring us food; the mind Of each misgave him through his dream, and I Heard, at its outlet underneath lock’d up The’ horrible tower: whence uttering not a word I look’d upon the visage of my sons.
I wept not: so all stone I felt within. They wept: and one, my little Anslem, cried: “Thou lookest so! Father what ails thee?” Yet I shed no tear, nor answer’d all that day Nor the next night, until another sun
Came out upon the world. When a faint beam Had to our doleful prison made its way,
And in four countenances I descry’d The image of my own, on either hand
Through agony I bit, and they who thought I did it through desire of feeding, rose O’ th’ sudden, and cried, ‘Father, we should grieve Far less, if thou wouldst eat of us: thou gav’st These weeds of miserable flesh we wear,

‘And do thou strip them off from us again.’ Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down My spirit in stillness. That day and the next We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth!
Why open’dst not upon us? When we came To the fourth day, then Geddo at my feet Outstretch’d did fling him, crying, ‘Hast no help For me, my father!’ There he died, and e’en Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three Fall one by one ‘twixt the fifth day and sixth:

“Whence I betook me now grown blind to grope Over them all, and for three days aloud
Call’d on them who were dead. Then fasting got The mastery of grief.” Thus having spoke,

Once more upon the wretched skull his teeth He fasten’d, like a mastiff’s ‘gainst the bone Firm and unyielding. Oh thou Pisa! shame Of all the people, who their dwelling make In that fair region, where th’ Italian voice Is heard, since that thy neighbours are so slack To punish, from their deep foundations rise Capraia and Gorgona, and dam up
The mouth of Arno, that each soul in thee May perish in the waters! What if fame
Reported that thy castles were betray’d By Ugolino, yet no right hadst thou
To stretch his children on the rack. For them, Brigata, Ugaccione, and the pair
Of gentle ones, of whom my song hath told, Their tender years, thou modern Thebes! did make Uncapable of guilt. Onward we pass’d,
Where others skarf’d in rugged folds of ice Not on their feet were turn’d, but each revers’d.

There very weeping suffers not to weep; For at their eyes grief seeking passage finds Impediment, and rolling inward turns
For increase of sharp anguish: the first tears Hang cluster’d, and like crystal vizors show, Under the socket brimming all the cup.

Now though the cold had from my face dislodg’d Each feeling, as ‘t were callous, yet me seem’d Some breath of wind I felt. “Whence cometh this,” Said I, “my master? Is not here below
All vapour quench’d?”–“‘Thou shalt be speedily,” He answer’d, “where thine eye shall tell thee whence The cause descrying of this airy shower.”

Then cried out one in the chill crust who mourn’d: “O souls so cruel! that the farthest post Hath been assign’d you, from this face remove The harden’d veil, that I may vent the grief Impregnate at my heart, some little space Ere it congeal again!” I thus replied:
“Say who thou wast, if thou wouldst have mine aid; And if I extricate thee not, far down
As to the lowest ice may I descend!”

“The friar Alberigo,” answered he,
“Am I, who from the evil garden pluck’d Its fruitage, and am here repaid, the date More luscious for my fig.”–“Hah!” I exclaim’d, “Art thou too dead!”–“How in the world aloft It fareth with my body,” answer’d he,
“I am right ignorant. Such privilege Hath Ptolomea, that ofttimes the soul
Drops hither, ere by Atropos divorc’d. And that thou mayst wipe out more willingly The glazed tear-drops that o’erlay mine eyes, Know that the soul, that moment she betrays, As I did, yields her body to a fiend
Who after moves and governs it at will, Till all its time be rounded; headlong she Falls to this cistern. And perchance above Doth yet appear the body of a ghost,
Who here behind me winters. Him thou know’st, If thou but newly art arriv’d below.
The years are many that have pass’d away, Since to this fastness Branca Doria came.”

“Now,” answer’d I, “methinks thou mockest me, For Branca Doria never yet hath died,
But doth all natural functions of a man, Eats, drinks, and sleeps, and putteth raiment on.”

He thus: “Not yet unto that upper foss By th’ evil talons guarded, where the pitch Tenacious boils, had Michael Zanche reach’d, When this one left a demon in his stead
In his own body, and of one his kin, Who with him treachery wrought. But now put forth Thy hand, and ope mine eyes.” I op’d them not. Ill manners were best courtesy to him.

Ah Genoese! men perverse in every way, With every foulness stain’d, why from the earth Are ye not cancel’d? Such an one of yours I with Romagna’s darkest spirit found,
As for his doings even now in soul
Is in Cocytus plung’d, and yet doth seem In body still alive upon the earth.

CANTO XXXIV

“THE banners of Hell’s Monarch do come forth Towards us; therefore look,” so spake my guide, “If thou discern him.” As, when breathes a cloud Heavy and dense, or when the shades of night Fall on our hemisphere, seems view’d from far A windmill, which the blast stirs briskly round, Such was the fabric then methought I saw,

To shield me from the wind, forthwith I drew Behind my guide: no covert else was there.

Now came I (and with fear I bid my strain Record the marvel) where the souls were all Whelm’d underneath, transparent, as through glass Pellucid the frail stem. Some prone were laid, Others stood upright, this upon the soles, That on his head, a third with face to feet Arch’d like a bow. When to the point we came, Whereat my guide was pleas’d that I should see The creature eminent in beauty once,
He from before me stepp’d and made me pause.

“Lo!” he exclaim’d, “lo Dis! and lo the place, Where thou hast need to arm thy heart with strength.”

How frozen and how faint I then became, Ask me not, reader! for I write it not,
Since words would fail to tell thee of my state. I was not dead nor living. Think thyself If quick conception work in thee at all, How I did feel. That emperor, who sways
The realm of sorrow, at mid breast from th’ ice Stood forth; and I in stature am more like A giant, than the giants are in his arms. Mark now how great that whole must be, which suits With such a part. If he were beautiful
As he is hideous now, and yet did dare To scowl upon his Maker, well from him
May all our mis’ry flow. Oh what a sight! How passing strange it seem’d, when I did spy Upon his head three faces: one in front
Of hue vermilion, th’ other two with this Midway each shoulder join’d and at the crest; The right ‘twixt wan and yellow seem’d: the left To look on, such as come from whence old Nile Stoops to the lowlands. Under each shot forth Two mighty wings, enormous as became
A bird so vast. Sails never such I saw Outstretch’d on the wide sea. No plumes had they, But were in texture like a bat, and these He flapp’d i’ th’ air, that from him issued still Three winds, wherewith Cocytus to its depth Was frozen. At six eyes he wept: the tears Adown three chins distill’d with bloody foam. At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ’d Bruis’d as with pond’rous engine, so that three Were in this guise tormented. But far more Than from that gnawing, was the foremost pang’d By the fierce rending, whence ofttimes the back Was stript of all its skin. “That upper spirit, Who hath worse punishment,” so spake my guide, “Is Judas, he that hath his head within
And plies the feet without. Of th’ other two, Whose heads are under, from the murky jaw Who hangs, is Brutus: lo! how he doth writhe And speaks not! Th’ other Cassius, that appears So large of limb. But night now re-ascends, And it is time for parting. All is seen.”

I clipp’d him round the neck, for so he bade; And noting time and place, he, when the wings Enough were op’d, caught fast the shaggy sides, And down from pile to pile descending stepp’d Between the thick fell and the jagged ice.

Soon as he reach’d the point, whereat the thigh Upon the swelling of the haunches turns, My leader there with pain and struggling hard Turn’d round his head, where his feet stood before, And grappled at the fell, as one who mounts, That into hell methought we turn’d again.

“Expect that by such stairs as these,” thus spake The teacher, panting like a man forespent, “We must depart from evil so extreme.”
Then at a rocky opening issued forth, And plac’d me on a brink to sit, next join’d With wary step my side. I rais’d mine eyes, Believing that I Lucifer should see
Where he was lately left, but saw him now With legs held upward. Let the grosser sort, Who see not what the point was I had pass’d, Bethink them if sore toil oppress’d me then.

“Arise,” my master cried, “upon thy feet. The way is long, and much uncouth the road; And now within one hour and half of noon The sun returns.” It was no palace-hall
Lofty and luminous wherein we stood, But natural dungeon where ill footing was And scant supply of light. “Ere from th’ abyss I sep’rate,” thus when risen I began,
“My guide! vouchsafe few words to set me free From error’s thralldom. Where is now the ice? How standeth he in posture thus revers’d? And how from eve to morn in space so brief Hath the sun made his transit?” He in few Thus answering spake: “Thou deemest thou art still On th’ other side the centre, where I grasp’d Th’ abhorred worm, that boreth through the world. Thou wast on th’ other side, so long as I Descended; when I turn’d, thou didst o’erpass That point, to which from ev’ry part is dragg’d All heavy substance. Thou art now arriv’d Under the hemisphere opposed to that,
Which the great continent doth overspread, And underneath whose canopy expir’d
The Man, that was born sinless, and so liv’d. Thy feet are planted on the smallest sphere, Whose other aspect is Judecca. Morn
Here rises, when there evening sets: and he, Whose shaggy pile was scal’d, yet standeth fix’d, As at the first. On this part he fell down From heav’n; and th’ earth, here prominent before, Through fear of him did veil her with the sea, And to our hemisphere retir’d. Perchance To shun him was the vacant space left here By what of firm land on this side appears, That sprang aloof.” There is a place beneath, From Belzebub as distant, as extends
The vaulted tomb, discover’d not by sight, But by the sound of brooklet, that descends This way along the hollow of a rock,
Which, as it winds with no precipitous course, The wave hath eaten. By that hidden way
My guide and I did enter, to return To the fair world: and heedless of repose We climbed, he first, I following his steps, Till on our view the beautiful lights of heav’n Dawn’d through a circular opening in the cave: Thus issuing we again beheld the stars.