Canto XI
¶ARGUMENT . — Dante arrives at the verge of a rocky precipice which encloses the seventh circle, where he sees the sepulchre of Anastasius the Heretic; behind the lid of which pausing a little, to make himself capable by degrees of enduring the fetid smell that steamed upward from the abyss, he is instructed by Virgil concerning the manner in which the three following circles are disposed, and what description of sinners is punished in each. He then inquires the reason why the carnal, the gluttonous, the avaricious and prodigal, the wrathful and gloomy, suffer not their punishments within the city of Dis. He next asks how the crime of usury is an offence against God; and at length the two Poets go toward the place from whence a passage leads down to the seventh circle.
¶UPON the utmost verge of a high bank,By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came.Where woes beneath, more cruel yet, werestow'd:And here, to shun the horrible excessOf fetid exhalation upward castFrom the profound abyss, behind the lidOf a great monument we stood retired,Whereon this scroll I mark'd: "I have in chargePope Anastasius,1 whom Photinus drewFrom the right path." "Ere our descent, behovesWe make delay, that somewhat first the sense,To the dire breath accustom'd, afterwardRegard it not." My master thus; to whomAnswering I spake: "Some compensation find,That the time pass not wholly lost." He then:"Lo! how my thoughts e'en to thy wishes tend.My son! within these rocks," he thus began,"Are three close circles in gradation placed,As these which now thou leavest. Each one is fullOf spirits accurst; but that the sight aloneHereafter may suffice thee, listen howAnd for what cause in durance they abide."Of all malicious act abhorr'd in Heaven,The end is injury; and all such endEither by force or fraud works other's woe.But fraud, because of man's peculiar evil,[46]To God is more displeasing; and beneath,The fraudulent are therefore doom'd to endureSeverer pang. The violent occupyAll the first circle; and because, to force,Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds,Each within other separate, is it framed.To God, his neighbor, and himself, by manForce may be offcr'd; to himself I say,And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hearAt full. Death, violent death, and painful woundsUpon his neighbor he inflicts; and wastes,By devastation, pillage, and the flames,His substance. Slayers, and each one that smitesIn malice, plunderers, and all robbers, henceThe torment undergo of the first round,In different herds. Man can do violenceTo himself and his own blessings: and for this,He, in the second round must aye deploreWith unavailing penitence his crime,Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light,In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy.To God may force be offer'd, in the heartDenying and blaspheming His high power,And Nature with her kindly law contemning.And thence the inmost round marks with its sealSodom, and Cahors, and all such as speakContemptuously of the Godhead in their hearts."Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting,May be by man employ'd on one, whose trustHe wins, or on another, who withholdsStrict confidence. Seems as the latter wayBroke but the bond of love which Nature makes.Whence in the second circle have their nest,Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries,Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduceTo lust, or set their honesty at pawn,With such vile scum as these. The other wayForgets both Nature's general love, and thatWhich thereto added afterward gives birthTo special faith. Whence in the lesser circle,[47]Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis,The traitor is eternally consumed."I thus: "Instructor, clearly thy discourseProceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasmAnd its inhabitants with skill exact.But tell me this: they of the dull, fat pool,Whom the rain beats, or whom the tempest drives,Or who with tongues so fierce conflicting meet,Wherefore within the city fire-illumedAre not these punish'd, if God's wrath be on them?And if it be not, wherefore in such guiseAre they condemn'd?" He answer thus return'd:"Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind,Not so accustom'd ? or what other thoughtsPossess it? Dwell not in thy memoryThe words, wherein thy ethic page 2 describesThree dispositions adverse to Heaven's will,Incontinence, malice, and mad brutishness,And how incontinence the least offendsGod, and least guilt incurs? If well thou noteThis judgment, and remember who they are,Without these walls to vain repentance doom'd,Thou shalt discern why they apart are placedFrom these fell spirits, and less wreakful poursJustice divine on them its vengeance down.""O sun! who hcalest all imperfect sight,Thou so content'st me, when thou solvest my doubt,That ignorance not less than knowledge charms.Yet somewhat turn thee back," I in these wordsContinued, "where thou said'st, that usuryOffends celestial Goodness; and this knotPerplex'd unravel." He thus made reply:"Philosophy, to an attentive ear,Clearly points out, not in one part alone,How imitative Nature takes her courseFrom the celestial mind, and from its art:And where her laws* the Stagirite unfolds,
Not many leaves scann'd o'er, observing wellThou shalt discover, that your art on herObsequious follows, as the learner treadsIn his instructor's step; so that your artDeserves the name of second in descentFrom God. These two, if thou recall to mindCreation's holy book, 4 from the beginningWere the right source of life and excellenceTo human-kind. But in another pathThe usurer walks; and Nature in herselfAnd in her follower thus he sets at nought,Placing elsewhere his hope. 5 But follow nowMy steps on forward journey bent; for nowThe Pisces play with undulating glanceAlong the horizon, and the Wain 6 lies allO'er the northwest; and onward there a spaceIs our steep passage down the rocky height."Canto XII
¶ARGUMENT . — Descending by a very rugged way into the seventh circle, where the violent are punished, Dante and his leader find it guarded by the Minotaur; whose fury being pacified by Virgil, they step downward from crag to crag; till, drawing near the bottom, they descry a river of blood, wherein are tormented such as have committed violence against their neighbor. At these, when they strive to emerge from the blood, a troop of Centaurs, running along the side of the river, aim their arrows; and three of their band opposing our travellers at the foot of the steep, Virgil prevails so far that one consents to carry them both across the stream; and on their passage, Dante is informed by him of the course of the river, and of those that
are punished therein. T As is that ruin, which Adice's stream HE place, where to descend the precipice Such object lay, as every eye would shun. 1We came, was rough as Alp; and on its verge
¶4 "Creation's holy book." Genesis, c. he does not avail himself of the means ii. v. 1 5 : " And the Lord God took the which art, the follower and imitator of man, and put him into the Garden of nature, would afford him for the same Eden, to dress it, and to keep it." And, purposes.
¶Genesis, c. iii. v. 19: "In the sweat of * " The Wain." The constellation thy face shalt thou eat bread." Bootes, or Charles's Wain.
¶5 "Placing elsewhere his hope." The 1 "Adice's stream." After a great deal usurer, trusting in the produce of his having been said on the subject, it still wealth lent out on usury, despises nature appears very uncertain at what part of directly, because he docs not avail him- the river this fall of the mountain hap-self of her means for maintaining or en- pened.
¶riching himself; and indirectly, because
p. 49¶On this side Trento struck, shouldering the wave,Or loosed by earthquake or for lack of prop;For from the mountain's summit, whence it movedTo the low level, so the headlong rockIs shiver'd, that some passage it might giveTo him who from above would pass; e'en suchInto the chasm was that descent: and thereAt point of the disparted ridge lay stretch'dThe infamy of Crete, 2 detested broodOf the feign'd heifer: 3 and at sight of usIt gnaw'd itself, as one with rage distract.To him my guide exclaim'd: "Perchance thou deem'stThe King of Athens 4 here, who, in the worldAbove, thy death contrived. Monster! avaunt!He comes not tutor'd by thy sister's art, 1But to behold your torments is he come."Like to a bull, that with impetuous springDarts, at the moment when the fatal blowHath struck him, but unable to proceedPlunges on either side; so saw I plungeThe Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim'd:"Run to the passage! while he storms, 'tis wellThat thou descend." Thus down our road we tookThrough those dilapidated crags, that oftMoved underneath my feet, to weight like theirsUnused. I pondering went, and thus he spake:"Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin'd steep,Guarded by the brute violence, which IHave vanquish'd now. Know then, that when I erstHither descended to the nether Hell,This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt,(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived, 8Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoilOf the highest circle, then through all its bounds
¶' " The infamy of Crete." The Mino 5 " Thy sister's art." Ariadne.taur. • Our Saviour, who, according to Dante,[50]Such trembling seized the deep concave and foul,I thought the universe was thrill'd with love,Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oftBeen into chaos turn'd: and in that point,Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of bloodApproaches, in the which all those are steep'd,Who have by violence injured." O blind lustlO foolish wrath! who so dost goad us onIn the brief life, and in the eternal thenThus miserably o'erwhelm us. I beheldAn ample foss, that in a bow was bent,As circling all the plain; for so my guideHad told. Between it and the rampart's base,On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm'd,As to the chase they on the earth were wont.At seeing us descend they each one stood;And issuing from the troop, three sped with bowsAnd missile weapons chosen first; of whomOne cried from far: "Say, to what pain ye comeCondemn'd, who down this steep have journey'd. SpeakFrom whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw."To whom my guide: "Our answer shall be madeTo Chiron, there, when nearer him we come.Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash."Then me he touch'd and spake: "Nessus is this,Who for the fair Deianira died,And wrought himself revenge1 for his own fate.He in the midst, that on his breast looks down,Is the great Chiron who Achilles nursed;That other, Pholus, prone to wrath." AroundThe foss these go by thousands, aiming shaftsAt whatsoever spirit dares emergeFrom out the blood, more than his guilt allows.We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,Drew near; when Chiron took an arrow forth,[51]And with the notch push'd back his shaggy beardTo the cheek-bone, then, his great mouth to viewExposing, to his fellows thus exclaim'd:"Are ye aware, that he who comes behindMoves what he touches? The feet of the deadAre not so wont." My trusty guide, who nowStood near his breast, where the two natures join,Thus made reply: "He is indeed alive,And solitary so must needs by meBe shown the gloomy vale, thereto inducedBy strict necessity, not by delight.She left her joyful harpings in the sky,Who this new office to my care consign'd.He is no robber, no dark spirit I.But by that virtue, which empowers my stepTo tread so wild a path, grant us, I pray,One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,Who to the ford may lead us, and conveyAcross, him mounted on his back; for heIs not a spirit that may walk the air."Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thusTo Nessus spake: "Return, and be their guide.And if ye chance to cross another troop,Command them keep aloof." Onward we moved,The faithful escort by our side, alongThe border of the crimson-seething flood,Whence, from those steep'd within, loud shrieks arose.Some there I mark'd, as high as to their browImmersed, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:"These are the souls of tyrants, who were givenTo blood and rapine. Here they wail aloudTheir merciless wrongs. Here Alexander dwells,And Dionysius fell, who many a yearOf woe wrought for fair Sicily. That brow,Whereon the hair so jetty clustering hangs,Is Azzolino;1 that with flaxen locks
Obizzo'of Este, in the world destroy'dBy his foul step-son." To the bard reveredI turn'd me round, and thus he spake: "Let himBe to thee now first leader, me but nextTo him in rank." Then further on a spaceThe Centaur paused, near some, who at the throatWere extant from the wave; and, showing us
¶A spirit by itself apart retired,
Exclaim'd: "He 10 in God's bosom smote the heart,Which yet is honored on the bank of Thames."A race I next espied who held the head,And even all the bust, above the stream.'Midst these I many a face remember'd well.Thus shallow more and more the blood became,So that at last it but imbrued the feet;And there our passage lay athwart the foss."As ever on this side the boiling waveThou seest diminishing," the Centaur said,"So on the other, be thou well assured,It lower still and lower sinks its bed,Till in that part it reuniting join,Where 'tis the lot of tyranny to mourn.There Heaven's stern justice lays chastising handOn Attila, who was the scourge of earth,On Sextus and on Pyrrhus," and extractsTears ever by the seething flood unlock'dFrom the Rinieri, of Corneto this,Pazzo the other named, 12 who fill'd the ways
¶• " Obizzo of Este." Marquis of Ferrara high altar, as the same Henrie kneeled and of the Marca d' Ancona, was mur there to hear divine service." A. D . 1272. dered by his own son (whom, for that —Holinshed's Chron., p. 275. See also most unnatural act, Dante calls his step Giov. Villani, "Hist." lib. vii. c. xl., where son) for the sake of the treasures which it is said "that the heart of Henry was his rapacity had amassed. put into a golden cup, and placed on a
¶1 0 " He . " "Hcnrie, the brother of this pillar at London Bridge for a memorial Edmund, and son to the foresaid King to the English of the said outrage."
¶of Almaine (Richard, brother of Henry " Sextus , either the son of Tarquin III of England), as he returned from the Proud or of Pompcy the Great; and Affrike, where he had been with Prince Pyrrhus, King of Epirus.
¶Edward, was slain at Viterbo in Italy 1 2 Two noted marauders, by whose depby the hand of Guy de Montfort, the son redations the public ways were infested. of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, The latter was of the noble family of in revenge of the same Simon's death. Pazzi in Florence.
¶The murther was committed afore the
Canto XIII
¶ARGUMENT.—Still in the seventh circle, Dante enters its second compartment, which contains both those who have done violence on their own persons and those who have violently consumed their goods; the first changed into rough and knotted trees whereon the harpies build their nests, the latter chased and torn by black female mastiffs. Among the former, Picro dclle Vigne is one who tells him the cause of his having committed suicide, and moreover in what manner the souls are transformed into those trunks. Of the latter crew, he recognizes Lano, a Siennese, and Giacomo, a Paduan; and lastly, a Florentine, who had hung himself from his own roof, speaks to him of the calamities of his countrymen.
¶ERE Nessus yet had reach'd the other bank,We enter'd on a forest, where no trackOf steps had worn a way. Not verdant thereThe foliage, but of dusky hue; not lightThe boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'dAnd matted thick: fruits there were none, but thornsInstead, with venom fill'd. Less sharp than these,Less intricate the brakes, wherein abideThose animals, that hate the cultured fields,Betwixt Corneto and Cecina's stream. 1Here the brute harpies make their nest, the sameWho from the Strophades the Trojan bandDrove with dire boding of their future woe.Broad are their pennons, of the human formTheir neck and countenance, arm'd with talons keenThe feet, and the huge belly fledged with wings.These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood.The kind instructor in these words began:"Ere further thou proceed, know thou art nowI' th* second round, and shalt be, till thou comeUpon the horrid sand: look therefore wellAround thee, and such things thou shalt behold,As would my speech discredit." On all sidesI heard sad plainings breathe, and none could seeFrom whom they might have issued. In amazeFast bound I stood. He, as it seem'd, believed
¶' A wild and woody tract, abounding horn; Corneto, a small city on the same in deer, goats, and wild boars. Cecina coast, in the patrimony of the Church, is a river not far to the south of Leg-
p. 54¶That I had thought so many voices cameFrom some amid those thickets close conceal'd,And thus his speech resum'd: "If thou lop offA single twig from one of those ill plants,The thought thou hast conceived shall vanish quite."Thereat a little stretching forth my hand,From a great wilding gather'd I a branch,And straight the trunk exclaim'd: "Why pluck'st thoume?"Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,These words it added: "Wherefore tear'st me thus?Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast?Men once were we, that now are rooted here.Thy hand might well have spared us, had we beenThe souls of serpents." As a brand yet green,That burning at one end from the other sendsA groaning sound, and hisses with the windThat forces out its way, so burst at onceForth from the broken splinter words and blood.I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as oneAssail'd by terror; and the sage replied:"If he, O injured spirit! could have believedWhat he hath seen but in my verse described,He never against thee had stretch'd his hand.But I, because the thing surpass'd belief,Prompted him to this deed, which even nowMyself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast;That, for this wrong to do thee some amends,In the upper world (for thither to returnIs granted him) thy fame he may revive.""That pleasant word of thine," the trunk replied,"Hath so inveigled me, that I from speechCannot refrain, wherein if I indulgeA little longer, in the snare detain'd,Count it not grievous. I it was,1 who held[55]Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turn'd the wards,Opening and shutting, with a skill so sweet,That besides me, into his inmost breastScarce any other could admittance find.The faith I bore to my high charge was such,It cost me the life-blood that warm'd my veins.The harlot, who ne'er turn'd her gloating eyesFrom Czsar's household, common vice and pestOf courts, 'gainst me inflamed the minds of all;And to Augustus they so spread the flame,That my glad honours changed to bitter woes.My soul, disdainful and disgusted, soughtRefuge in death from scorn, and I became,Just as I was, unjust toward myself.By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear,That never faith I broke to my liege lord,Who merited such honour; and of you,If any to the world indeed return,Clear he from wrong my memory, that liesYet prostrate under envy's cruel blow."First somewhat pausing, till the mournful wordsWere ended, then to me the bard began:"Lose not the time; but speak, and of him ask,If more thou wish to learn." Whence I replied:"Question thou him again of whatsoe'erWill, as thou think'st, content me; for no powerHave I to ask, such pity is at my heart."He thus resumed: "So may he do for theeFreely what thou entreatest, as thou yetBe pleased, imprison'd spirit! to declare,How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied;And whether any ever from such frameBe loosen'd, if thou canst, that also tell."Thereat the trunk breathed hard, and the wind soonChanged into sounds articulate like these:"Briefly ye shall be answer'd. When departsThe fierce soul from the body, by itselfThence torn asunder, to the seventh gulfBy Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls,No place assign'd, but wheresoever chance[56]Hurls it; there sprouting, as a grain of spelt,It rises to a sapling, growing thenceA savage plant. The harpies, on its leavesThen feeding, cause both pain, and for the painA vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall comeFor our own spoils, yet not so that with themWe may again be clad; for what a manTakes from himself it is not just he have.Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughoutThe dismal glade our bodies shall be hung,Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade."Attentive yet to listen to the trunkWe stood, expecting further speech, when usA noise surprised; as when a man perceivesThe wild boar and the hunt approach his placeOf station'd watch, who of the beasts and boughsLoud rustling round him hears. And lo! there cameTwo naked, torn with briers, in headlong flight,That they before them broke each fan o' th' wood."Haste now," the foremost cried, "now haste thee,death!"
p. 56¶The other, as seem'd, impatient of delay,Exclaiming, "Lano!1 not so bent for speedThy sinews, in the lists of Toppo's field."And then, for that perchance no longer breathSufficed him, of himself and of a bushOne group he made. Behind them was the woodFull of black female mastiffs, gaunt and fleet,As greyhounds that have newly slipt the leash.On him, who squatted down, they stuck their fangs,And having rent him piecemeal bore awayThe tortured limbs. My guide then seized my hand,And led me to the thicket, which in vainMourn'd through its bleeding wounds: "O GiacomoOf Sant' Andrea!' what avails it thee,"
It cried, "that of me thou hast made thy screen?For thy ill life, what blame on me recoils?"When o'er it he had paused, my master spake:"Say who wast thou, that at so many pointsBreathest out with blood thy lamentable speech?"He answer'd: "O ye spirits! arrived in timeTo spy the shameful havoc that from meMy leaves hath sever'd thus, gather them up,And at the foot of their sad parent-treeCarefully lay them. In that city 5 I dwelt,Who for the Baptist her first patron changed,Whence he for this shall cease not with his artTo work her woe: and if there still remain'd notOn Arno's passage some faint glimpse of him,Those citizens, who rear'd once more her walls
¶Upon the ashes left by Attila,
Had labor'd without profit of their toil.I slung the fatal noose 6 from my own roof."Canto XIV
¶ARGUMENT . — They arrive at the beginning of the third of those compartments into which this seventh circle is divided. It is a plain of dry and hot sand, where three kinds of violence are punished; namely, against God, against Nature, and against Art; and those who have thus sinned, are tormented by flakes of fire, which are eternally showering down upon them. Among the violent against God is found Capaneus, whose blasphemies they hear. Next, turning to the left along the forest of self-slayers, and having journeyed a little onward, they meet with a streamlet of blood that issues from the forest and traverses the sandy plain. Here Virgil speaks to our Poet of a huge ancient statue that stands within Mount Ida in Crete, from a fissure in which statue there is a dripping of tears, from which the said streamlet, together with the three other infernal rivers, are formed.
OON as the charity of native land
¶SWrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves
Collected, and to him restored, who nowWas hoarse with utterance. To the limit thenceWe came, which from the third the second roundDivides, and where of justice is display'd
¶5 " Florence, that city which • "I slung the fatal noose." We are changed her first patron Mars for St. John not informed who this suicide was; some the Baptist." calling him Rocco de' Mozzi, and others
¶Lotto degli Agli.
p. 58¶Contrivance horrible. Things then first seenClearlier to manifest, I tell how nextA plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bedEach plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves roundIts garland on all sides, as round the woodSpreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge,Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wideOf arid sand and thick, resembling mostThe soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.Vengeance of heaven! Ohl how shouldst thou befear'dBy all, who read what here mine eyes beheld.Of naked spirits many a flock I saw,All weeping piteously, to different lawsSubjected; for on the earth some lay supine,Some crouching close were seated, others pacedIncessantly around; the latter tribeMore numerous, those fewer who beneathThe torment lay, but louder in their grief.O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting downDilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snowOn Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd.As, in the torrid Indian clime, the sonOf Ammon saw, upon his warrior bandDescending, solid flames, that to the groundCame down; whence he bethought him with his troopTo trample on the soil; for easier thusThe vapor was extinguish'd, while alone:So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewithThe marie glow'd underneath, as under stoveThe viands, doubly to augment the pain.Unceasing was the play of wretched hands,Now this, now that way glancing, to shake offThe heat, still falling fresh. I thus began:"Instructor! thou who all things overcomest,Except the hardy demons that rush'd forthTo stop our entrance at the gate, say whoIs yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds notThe burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn,As by the sultry tempest immatured?"[59]Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'dMy guide of him, exclaim'd: "Such as I wasWhen living, dead such now I am. If JoveWeary his workman out, from whom in ireHe snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last dayTransfix'd me; if the rest he weary out,At their black smithy laboring by turns,In Mongibello, while he cries aloud,'Help, help, good Mulciber!' as erst he criedIn the Phlegrxan warfare; and the boltsLaunch he, full aim'd at me, with all his might;He never should enjoy a sweet revenge."Then thus my guide, in accent higher raisedThan I before had heard him: "Capaneus!Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy prideLives yet unquench'd: no torment, save thy rage,Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full."Next turning round to me, with milder lipHe spake: "This of the seven kings was one,Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held,As still he seems to hold, God in disdain,And sets His high omnipotence at naught.But, as I told him, his despiteful moodIs ornament well suits the breast that wears it.Follow me now; and look thou set not yetThy foot in the hot sand, but to the woodKeep ever close." Silently on we pass'dTo where there gushes from the forest's boundA little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet liftsMy hair with horror. As the rill, that runsFrom Bulicame,1 to be portion'd outAmong the sinful women, so ran thisDown through the sand; its bottom and each bankStone-built, and either margin at its side,Whereon I straight perceived our passage lay."Of all that I have shown thee, since that gateWe enter'd first, whose threshold is to none[60]Denied, naught else so worthy of regard,As is this river, has thine eye discern'd,O'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd."So spake my guide; and I him thence besought,That having given me appetite to know,The food he too would give, that hunger craved."In midst of ocean," forthwith he began,"A desolate country lies, which Crete is named;Under whose monarch, in old times, the worldLived pure and chaste. A mountain rises there,Call'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams,Deserted now like a forbidden thing.It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse,Chose for the secret cradle of her son;And better to conceal him, drown'd in shoutsHis infant cries. Within the mount, uprightAn ancient form there stands, and huge, that turnsHis shoulders toward Damiata; and at Rome,As in his mirror, looks. Of finest goldHis head is shaped, pure silver are the breastAnd arms, thence to the middle is of brass,And downward all beneath well-temper'd steel,Save the right foot of potter's clay, on whichThan on the other more erect he stands.Each part, except the gold, is rent throughout;And from the fissure tears distil, which join'dPenetrate to that cave. They in their course,Thus far precipitated down the rock,Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;Then by this straiten'd channel passing henceBeneath e'en to the lowest depth of all,Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyselfShalt see it) I here give thee no account."Then I to him: "If from our world this sluiceBe thus derived; wherefore to us but nowAppears it at this edge?" He straight replied:"The place, thou know'st, is round: and though greatpartThou have already past, still to the leftDescending to the nethermost, not yet[61]Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.Wherefore, if aught of new to us appear,It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks."Then I again inquired: "Where flow the streamsOf Phlegcthon and Lethe? for of oneThou tell'st not; and the other, of that shower,Thou say'st, is form'd." He answer thus reiurn'd:"Doubtless thy questions all well pleased I hear.Yet the red seething wave 2 might have resolvedOne thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,But not within this hollow, in the placeWhither, 3 to lave themselves, the spirits go,Whose blame hath been by penitence removed."He added: "Time is now we quit the wood.Look thou my steps pursue: the margins giveSafe passage, unimpeded by the flames;For over them all vapor is extinct."
Canto XV
¶ARGUMENT . — Taking their way upon one of the mounds by which the streamlet, spoken of in the last Canto, was embanked, and having gone so far that they could no longer have discerned the forest if they had turned round to look for it, they meet a troop of spirits that come along the sand by the side of the pier. These arc they who have done violence to Nature; and among them Dante distinguishes Brunetto Latini, who had been formerly his master; with whom, turning a little backward, he holds a discourse which occupies the remainder of this Canto.
¶ONE of the solid margins bears us nowEnvelop'd in the mist, that, from the streamArising, hovers o'er, and saves from fireBoth piers and water. As the Flemings rearTheir mound, 'twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase backThe ocean, fearing his tumultuous tideThat drives toward them; or the Paduans theirsAlong the Brenta, to defend their townsAnd castles, ere the genial warmth be feltOn Chiarentana's 1 top; such were the mounds,So framed, though not in height or bulk to theseMade equal, by the master, whosoe'er[62]He was, that raised them here. We from the woodWere now so far removed, that turning roundI might not have discern'd it, when we metA troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.They each one eyed us, as at eventideOne eyes another under a new moon;And toward us sharpen'd their sight, as keenAs an old tailor at his needle's eye.Thus narrowly explored by all the tribe,I was agnized of one, who by the skirtCaught me, and cried, "What wonder have we here?"And I, when he to me outstretch'd his arm,Intendy fix'd my ken on his parch'd looks,That, although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd notBut I remember'd him; and toward his faceMy hand inclining, answer'd: "Ser Brunetto!1And are ye here?" He thus to me: "My son!Oh let it not displease thee, if BrunettoLatini but a little space with theeTurn back, and leave his fellows to proceed."I thus to him replied: "Much as I can,I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willingThat I here seat me with thee, I consent;His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain'd.""O son!" said he, "whoever of this throngOne instant stops, lies then a hundred years,No fan to ventilate him, when the fireSmitest sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I closeWill at thy garments walk, and then rejoinMy troop, who go mourning their endless doom."I dared not from the path descend to treadOn equal ground with him, but held my headBent down, as one who walks in reverent guise."What chance or destiny," thus he began,"Ere the last day, conducts thee here below?And who is this that shows to thee the way?"[63]"There up aloft," I answer'd, "in the lifeSerene, I wander'd in a valley lost,Before mine age had to its fulness reach'd.But yester-morn I left it: then once moreInto that vale returning, him I met;And by this path homeward he leads me back.""If thou," he answer'd, "follow but thy star,Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven;Unless in fairer days my judgment err'd.And if my fate so early had not chanced,Seeing the heavens thus bounteous to thee, IHad gladly given thee comfort in thy work.But that ungrateful and malignant race,Who in old times came down from Fesole,Ay and still smack of their rough mountain flint,Will for thy good deeds show thee enmity.Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savor'd crabsIt suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit.Old fame reports them in the world for blind,Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well:Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee,Thy fortune hath such honor in reserve,That thou by either party shalt be cravedWith hunger keen: but be the fresh herb farFrom the goat's tooth. The herd of FesoleMay of themselves make litter, not touch the plant,If any such yet spring on their rank bed,In which the holy seed revives, transmittedFrom those true Romans, who still there remain'd,When it was made the nest of so much ill.""Were all my wish fulfill'd," I straight replied,"Thou from the confines of man's nature yetHadst not been driven forth; for in my mindIs fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart,The dear, benign, paternal image, suchAs thine was, when so lately thou didst teach meThe way for man to win eternity:And how I prized the lesson, it behoves,That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak.What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down;[64]And, with another text* to comment on,For her I keep it, the celestial dame,Who will know all, if I to her arrive.This only would I have thee clearly note:That, so my conscience have no plea against me,Do Fortune as she list, I stand prepared.Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear.Speed Fortune then her wheel, as likes her best;The clown his mattock; all things have their course."Thereat my sapient guide upon his rightTurn'd himself back, then looked at me, and spake:"He listens to good purpose who takes note."I not the less still on my way proceed,Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquireWho are most known and chief among his tribe."To know of some is well;" he thus replied,"But of the rest silence may best beseem.Time would not serve us for report so long.In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks,Men of great learning and no less renown,By one same sin polluted in the world.With them is Priscian; and Accorso's son,Francesco, 4 herds among the wretched throng:And, if the wish of so impure a blotchPossess'd thee, him 5 thou also mightst have seen,Who by the servants' servant was transferr'dFrom Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, whereHis ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add,But must from further speech and onward wayAlike desist; for yonder I beholdA mist new-risen on the sandy plain.A company, with whom I may not sort,[65]Approaches. I commend my Treasure to thee,Wherein I yet survive; my sole request."This said, he turn'd, and seem'd as one of thoseWho o'er Verona's champaign try their speedFor the green mantle; and of them he seem'd,Not he who loses but who gains the prize.
Canto XVI
¶ARGUMENT.—Journeying along the pier, which crosses the sand, they are now so near the end of it as to hear the noise of the stream falling into the eighth circle, when they meet the spirits of three military men; who judging Dante, from his dress, to be a countryman of theirs, entreat him to stop. He complies and speaks with them. The two Poets then reach the place where the water descends, being the termination of this third compartment in the seventh circle; and here Virgil, having thrown down into the hollow a cord, wherewith Dante was girt, they behold at that signal a monstrous and horrible figure come swimming up to them.
¶OW came I where the water's din was heardNAs down it fell into the other round,Resounding like the hum of swarming bees:irth together issued from a troop,That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm,Three spirits, running swift. They toward us came,And each one cried aloud, "Oh! do thou stay,Whom, by the fashion of thy garb, we deemTo be some inmate of our evil land."Ah me! what wounds I mark'd upon their limbs,Recent and old, inflicted by the flames.E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet.Attentive to their cry, my teacher paused,And turned to me his visage, and then spake:"Wait now: our courtesy these merit well:And were't not for the nature of the place,Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said,That haste had better suited thee than them."They, when we stopp'd, resumed their ancient wail,And, soon as they had reach'd us, all the threeWhirl'd round together in one restless wheel.As naked champions, smear'd with slippery oilAre wont, intent, to watch their place of holdAnd vantage, ere in closer strife they meet;
Thus each one, as he wheel'd, his countenance
¶At me directed, so that opposite
The neck moved ever to the twinkling feet."If woe of this unsound and dreary waste,"Thus one began, "added to our sad cheerThus peel'd with flame, do call forth scorn on usAnd our entreaties, let our great renownIncline thee to inform us who thou art,That dost imprint, with living feet unharm'd,The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou seestMy steps pursuing, naked though he beAnd reft of all, was of more high estateThan thou believest; grandchild of the chasteGualdrada, 1 him they Guidoguerra call'd,Who in his lifetime many a noble actAchieved, both by his wisdom and his sword.The other, next to me that beats the sand,Is Aldobrandi, 2 name deserving well,In the upper world, of honor; and myself,Who in this torment do partake with them,Am Rusticucci, 3 whom, past doubt, my wife,Of savage temper, more than aught besideHath to this evil brought." If from the fireI had been shelter'd, down amidst them straight
¶1 "Gualdrada." Gualdrada was the Romagna, as her portion. Two sons were daughter of Bcllincione Berti, of whom the offspring of this union, Gugliclmo and mention is made in the Paradise, Cantos Ruggieri; the latter was father of Guido-xv and xvi. He was of the family of guerra, who, at the head of four hundred Ravignani, a branch of the Adimari. The Florentines of the Guelf party, was sig-Emperor Otho IV being at a festival in nally instrumental to the victory of Florence, where Gualdrada was present, Charles of Anjou at Bencvento, over was struck with her beauty; and in- Manfredi, King of Naples, in 1265. One quiring who she was, was answered by consequence af this was the expulsion Bcllincione, that she was the daughter of the Ghibellini and the re-establishment of one who, if it was his Majesty's pleas- of the Guelfi at Florence,
¶ure, would make her admit the honor 2 Tegghiaio Aldobrandi endeavored to of his salute. On overhearing this, she dissuade the Florentines from the attack arose from her seat, and blushing, desired which they meditated against the Sienher father that he would not be so lib- nesc; the rejection of his counsel oceral in his offers. The Emperor was de- casioned the defeat which the former lighted by her resolute modesty, and call- sustained at Montaperto, and the coning to him Guido, one of his barons, sequent banishment of the Guelfi from gave her to him in marriage; at the same Florence.
¶time raising him to the rank of a count, ' Giacopo Rusticucci, a Florentine, rcand bestowing on her the whole of Casen- markable for his opulence and generosity tino, and a part of the territory of of spirit.
p. 67¶I then had cast me; nor my guide, I deem,Would have restrain'd my going: but that fearOf the dire burning vanquish'd the desire,Which made me eager of their wish'd embrace.I then began: "Not scorn, but grief much more,Such as long time alone can cure, your doomFix'd deep within me, soon as this my lordSpake words, whose tenor taught me to expectThat such a race, as ye are, was at hand.I am a countryman of yours, who stillAffectionate have utter'd, and have heardYour deeds and names renown'd. Leaving the gall,For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guideHath promised to me. But behoves, that farAs to the centre first I downward tend.""So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,"He answer straight return'd; "and so thy fameShine bright when thou art gone, as thou shalt tell,If courtesy and valor, as they wont,Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean:For one amidst us late condemn'd to wail,Borsiere, 4 yonder walking with his peers,Grieves us no little by the news he brings.""An upstart multitude and sudden gains,Pride and excess, O Florence! have in theeEngender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!"Thus cried I, with my face upraised, and theyAll three, who for an answer took my words,Look'd at each other, as men look when truthComes to their ear. "If at so little cost,"They all at once rejoin'd, "thou satisfyOthers who question thee, O happy thou!Gifted with words so apt to speak thy thought.Wherefore, if thou escape this darksome clime,Returning to behold the radiant stars,When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, 5See that of us thou speak among mankind."[68]This said, they broke the circle, and so swiftFled, that as pinions seem'd their nimble feet.Not in so short a time might one have said"Amen," as they had vanish'd. Straight my guidePursued his track. I follow'd: and small spaceHad we past onward, when the water's soundWas now so near at hand, that we had scarceHeard one another's speech for the loud din.E'en as the river,* that first holds its courseUnmingled from the Mount of Vesulo,On the left side of Apennine, towardThe east, which Acquacheta higher upThey call, ere it descend into the vale,At Forli, 7 by that name no longer known,Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd onFrom the Alpine summit down a precipice,Where space* enough to lodge a thousand spreads;Thus downward from a craggy steep we foundThat this dark wave resounded, roaring loud,So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn'd.I had a cord 9 that braced my girdle round,Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to takeThe painted leopard. This when I had allUnloosen'd from me (so my master bade)I gather'd up, and stretch'd it forth to him.Then to the right he turn'd, and from the brinkStanding few paces distant, cast it downInto the deep abyss. "And somewhat strange,"Thus to myself I spake, "signal so strangeBetokens, which my guide with earnest eyeThus follows." Ah! what caution must men use
p. 68¶• He compares the fall of Phlcgethon cupied it, or because (says Landino) the to that of the Montone (a river in lords of that territory had intended to Romagna) from the Apennines above the build a castle near the water-fall, and to Abbey of St. Benedict. All the other collect within its walls the population of streams that rise between the sources of the neighboring villages.
¶the Po and the Montone, and fall from the * " A cord." It is believed that our left side of the Apennines, join the Po poet in early life, had entered into the and accompany it to the sea. order of St. Francis. By observing the
p. 69¶With those who look not at the deed alone,But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill."Quickly shall come," he said, "what I expect;Thine eye discover quickly that, whereofThy thought is dreaming." Ever to that truth,Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears,A man, if possible, should bar his lip;Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach.But silence here were vain; and by these notes,Which now I sing, reader, I swear to thee,So may they favor find to latest times!That through the gross and murky air I spiedA shape come swimming up, that might have quell'dThe stoutest heart with wonder; in such guiseAs one returns, who hath been down to looseAn anchor grappled fast against some rock,Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies,Who, upward springing, close draws in his feet.
Canto XVII
¶ARGUMENT . — The monster Gcryon is described; to whom while Virgil is speaking in order that he may carry them both down to the next circle, Dante, by permission, goes further along the edge of the void, to descry the third species of sinners contained in this compartment, namely, those who have done violence to Art; and then returning to his master, they both descend, seated on the back of Geryon.
¶""W"OI the fell monster1 with the deadly sting,I Who passes mountains, breaks through fencedI J wallsAnd firm embatded spears, and with his filthTaints all the world." Thus me my guide address'd,And beckon'd him, that he should come to shore,Near to the stony causeway's utmost edge.Forthwith that image vile of Fraud appear'd,His head and upper part exposed on land,But laid not on the shore his bestial train.His face the semblance of a just man's wore,So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws[70]Reach'd to the arm-pits; and the back and breast,And either side, were painted o'er with nodesAnd orbits. Colours variegated moreNor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of siateWith interchangeable embroidery wove,Nor spread Arachne o'er her curious loom.As oft-times a light skiff, moor'd to the shore,Stands part in water, part upon the land;Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor,The beaver settles, watching for his prey;So on the rim, that fenced the sand with rock,Sat perch'd the fiend of evil. In the voidGlancing, his tail upturn'd its venomous fork,With sting like scorpion's arm'd. Then thus my guide,"Now need our way must turn few steps apart,Far as to that ill beast, who couches there."Thereat, toward the right our downward courseWe shaped, and, better to escape the flameAnd burning marie, ten paces on the vergeProceeded. Soon as we to him arrive,A little farther on mine eye beholdsA tribe of spirits, seated on the sandNear to the void. Forthwith my master spake:"That to the full thy knowledge may extendOf all this round contains, go now, and markThe mien these wear: but hold not long discourse.Till thou returnest, I with him meantimeWill parley, that to us he may vouchsafeThe aid of his strong shoulders." Thus alone,Yet forward on the extremity I pacedOf that seventh circle, where the mournful tribeWere seated. At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs,Against the vapors and the torrid soilAlternately their shifting hands they plied.Thus use the dogs in summer still to plyTheir jaws and feet by turns, when bitten soreBy gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.Noting the visages of some, who layBeneath the pelting of that dolorous fire,One of them all I knew not; but perceived,[71]That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch*With colours and with emblems various mark'd,On which it seem'd as if their eye did feed.And when, amongst them, looking round I came,A yellow purse 3 I saw with azure wrought,That wore a lion's countenance and port.Then, still my sight pursuing its career,Another* I beheld, than blood more red,A goose display of whiter wing than curd.And one, who bore a fat and azure swine 5Pictured on his white scrip, address'd me thus:"What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know,Since yet thou livest, that my neighbor hereVitaliano* on my left shall sit.A Paduan with these Florentines am I.Oft-times they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming,'Oh! haste that noble knight, 7 he who the pouchWith the three goats will bring.' " This said, he writhedThe mouth, and loll'd the tongue out, like an oxThat licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stayHe ill might brook, who bade me stay not long,Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn'd.My guide already seated on the haunchOf the fierce animal I found; and thusHe me encouraged. "Be thou stout: be bold.Down such a steep flight must we now descend.Mount thou before: for, that no power the tailMay have to harm thee, I will be i' th' midst."As one, who hath an ague fit so near,His nails already are turn'd blue, and heQuivers all o'er, if he but eye the shade;Such was my cheer at hearing of his words.But shame soon interposed her threat, who makesThe servant bold in presence of his lord.[72]I settled me upon those shoulders huge,And would have said, but that the words to aidMy purpose came not, "Look thou clasp me firm."But he whose succour then not first I proved,Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft,Embracing, held me up; and thus he spake:"Geryon! now move thee: be thy wheeling gyresOf ample circuit, easy thy descent.Think on the unusual burden thou sustain'st."As a small vessel, backcning out from land,Her station quits; so thence the monster loosed,And, when he felt himself at large, turn'd roundThere, where the breast had been, his forked tail.Thus, like an eel, outstretch'd at length he steer'd,Gathering the air up with retractile claws.Not greater was the dread, when PhaetonThe reins let drop at random, whence high heaven,Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames;Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceived,By liquefaction of the scalded wax,The trusted pennons loosen'd from his loins,His sire exclaiming loud, "111 way thou keep'st,"Than was my dread, when round me on each partThe air I view'd, and other object noneSave the fell beast. He, slowly sailing, wheelsHis downward motion, unobserved of me,But that the wind, arising to my face,Breathes on me from below. Now on our rightI heard the cataract beneath us leapWith hideous crash; whence bending down to explore,New terror I conceived at the steep plunge;For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear:So that, all trembling, close I crouch'd my limbs,And then distinguish'd, unperceived before,By the dread torments that on every sideDrew nearer, how our downward course we wound.As falcon, that hath long been on the wing,But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despairThe falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth,"Wearied descends, whence nimbly he arose[73]In many an airy wheel, and lighting sitsAt distance from his lord in angry mood;So Geryon lighting places us on footLow down at base of the deep-furrow'd rock,And, of his burden there discharged, forthwithSprang forward, like an arrow from the string.
Canto XVIII
¶ARGUMENT . — The Poet describes the situation and form of the eighth circle, divided into ten gulfs, which contain as many different descriptions of fraudulent sinners; but in the present Canto he treats only of two sorts: the first is of those who, cither for their own pleasure, or for that of another, have seduced any woman from her duty; and these are scourged of demons in the first gulf: the other sort is of flatterers, who in the second gulf arc condemned to remain immersed in filth.
¶HERE is a place within the depths of HellTCall'd Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain'dWith hue ferruginous, e'en as the steepThat round it circling winds. Right in the midstOf that abominable region yawnsA spacious gulf profound, whereof the frameDue time shall tell. The circle, that remains,Throughout its round, between the gulf and baseOf the high craggy banks, successive formsTen bastions, in its hollow bottom raised.As where, to guard the walls, full many a fossBegirds some stately castle, sure defenceAffording to the space within; so hereWere model'd these: and as like fortresses,E'en from their threshold to the brink without,Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low baseThus flinty paths advanced, that 'cross the molesAnd dykes struck onward far as to the gulf,That in one bound collected cuts them off.Such was the place, wherein we found ourselvesFrom Geryon's back dislodged. The bard to leftHeld on his way, and I behind him moved.On our right hand new misery I saw,New pains, new executioners of wrath,That swarming peopled the first chasm. BelowWere naked sinners. Hitherward they came,[74]Meeting our faces, from the middle point;With us beyond, but with a larger stride.E'en thus the Romans,' when the year returnsOf Jubilee, with better speed to ridThe thronging multitudes, their means deviseFor such as pass the bridge; that on one sideAll front toward the castle, and approachSaint Peter's fane, on the other toward the mount.Each diverse way, along the grisly rock,Horn'd demons I beheld, with lashes huge,That on their back unmercifully smote.Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripelNone for the second waited, nor the third.Meantime, as on I pass'd, one met my sight,Whom soon as view'd, "Of him," cried I, "not yetMine eye hath had his fill." I therefore stay'dMy feet to scan him, and the teacher kindPaused with me, and consented I should walkBackward a space; and the tormented spirit,Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down.But it avail'd him naught; for I exclaim'd:"Thou who dost cast thine eye upon the ground,Unless thy features do belie thee much,Venedico 2 art thou. But what brings theeInto this bitter seasoning?" He replied:"Unwillingly I answer to thy words.But thy clear speech, that to my mind recallsThe world I once inhabited, constrains me.Know then't was I who led fair GhisolaTo do the Marquis' will, however fameThe shameful tale have bruited. Nor aloneBologna hither sendeth me to mourn.Rather with us the place is so o'erthrong'd,That not so many tongues this day are taught,[75]Betwixt the Reno and Savena's stream,To answer Sipa* in their country's phrase.And if of that securer proof thou need,Remember but our craving thirst for gold."Him speaking thus, a demon with his throngStruck and exclaim'd, "Away, corrupter! hereWomen are none for sale." Forthwith I join'dMy escort, and few paces thence we cameTo where a rock forth issued from the bank.That easily ascended, to the rightUpon its splinter turning, we departFrom those eternal barriers. When arrivedWhere, underneath, the gaping arch lets passThe scourged souls: "Pause here," the teacher said,"And let these others miserable nowStrike on thy ken; faces not yet beheld,For that together they with us have walk'd."From the old bridge we eyed the pack, who cameFrom the other side toward us, like the rest,Excoriate from the lash. My gentle guide,By me unqucstion'd, thus his speech resumed:"Behold that lofty shade, who this way tends,And seems too woe-begone to drop a tear.How yet the regal aspect he retains!Jason is he, whose skill and prowess wonThe ram from Colchis. To the Lemnian isleHis passage thither led him, when those boldAnd pitiless women had slain all their males.There he with tokens and fair witching wordsHypsipyle 4 beguiled, a virgin young,Who first had all the rest herself beguiled.Impregnated, he left her there forlorn.Such is the guilt condemns him to this pain.Here too Medea's injuries are avenged.All bear him company, who like deceitTo his have practised. And thus much to know[76]Of the first vale suffice thee, and of thoseWhom its keen torments urge." Now had we comeWhere, crossing the next pier, the straiten'd pathBestrides its shoulders to another arch.Hence, in the second chasm we heard the ghosts,Who gibber in low melancholy sounds,With wide-stretch'd nostrils snort, and on themselvesSmite with their palms. Upon the banks a scurf,From the foul steam condensed, encrusting hung,That held sharp combat with the sight and smell.So hollow is the depth, that from no part,Save on the summit of the rocky span,Could I distinguish aught. Thus far we came;And thence I saw, within the foss below,A crowd immersed in ordure, that appear'dDraff of the human body. There beneathSearching with eye inquisitive, I mark'dOne with his head so grimed, 't were hard to deemIf he were clerk or layman. Loud he cried:"Why greedily thus bendest more on me,Than on these other filthy ones, thy ken?""Because, if true my memory," I replied,"I heretofore have seen thee with dry locks;And thou Alessio1 art, of Lucca sprung.Therefore than all the rest I scan thee more."Then beating on his brain, these words he spake:"Me thus low down my flatteries have sunk,Wherewith I ne'er enough could glut my tongue."My leader thus: "A little further stretchThy face, that thou the visage well mayst noteOf that besotted, sluttish courtesan,Who there doth rend her with defiled nails,Now crouching down, now risen on her feet.Thai's2 is this, the harlot, whose false lipAnswer'd her doting paramour that ask'd,'Thankest me much!'—'Say rather, wondrously,'And, seeing this, here satiate be our view."
Canto XIX
¶ARGUMENT . — They come to the third gulf, wherein arc punished those who have been guilty of simony. These are fixed with the head downward in certain apertures, so that no more of them than the legs appears without, and on the soles of their feet are seen burning flames. Dante is taken down by his guide into the bottom of the gulf; and there finds Pope Nicholas V , whose evil deeds, together with those of other pontiffs, are bitterly reprehended. Virgil then carries him up again to the arch, which affords them a passage over the following gulf.
¶WOE to thee, Simon Magus! woe to you,His wretched followers! who the things of God,Which should be wedded unto goodness, them,Rapacious as ye are, do prostituteFor gold and silver in adultery.Now must the trumpet sound for you, since yoursIs the third chasm. Upon the following vaultWe now had mounted, where the rock impendsDirectly o'er the centre of the foss.Wisdom Supreme! how wonderful the art,Which Thou dost manifest in Heaven, in earth,And in the evil world, how just a meedAllotting by Thy virtue unto all.I saw the livid stone, throughout the sidesAnd in its bottom full of apertures,All equal in their width, and circular each.Nor ample less nor larger they appear'dThan, in Saint John's fair dome1 of me beloved,Those framed to hold the pure baptismal streams,One of the which I brake, some few years past,To save a whelming infant: and be thisA seal to undeceive whoever doubtsThe motive of my deed. From out the mouthOf every one emerged a sinner's feet,And of the legs high upward as the calf.The rest beneath was hid. On either footThe soles were burning; whence the flexile jointsGlanced with such violent motion, as had snapt[78]Asunder cords or twisted withes. As flame,Feeding on unctuous matter, glides alongThe surface, scarcely touching where it moves;So here, from heel to point, glided the flames."Master! say who is he, than all the restGlancing in fiercer agony, on whomA ruddier flame doth prey?" I thus inquired."If thou be willing," he replied, "that ICarry thee down, where least the slope bank falls,He of himself shall tell thee, and his wrongs."I then: "As pleases thee, to me is best.Thou art my lord; and know'st that ne'er I quitThy will: what silence hides, that knowest thou."Thereat on the fourth pier we came, we turn'dAnd on our left descended to the depth,A narrow strait, and perforated close.Nor from his side my leader set me down,
¶Quivering express'd his pang. "Whoe'er thou art,Sad spirit! thus reversed, and as a stakeDriven in the soil,"—I in these words began;"If thou be able, utter forth thy voice."There stood I like the friar, that doth shriveA wretch for murder doom'd, who,e'en when fix'd,Calleth him back, whence death awhile delays.He shouted: "Ha! already standest there?Already standest there, O Boniface!1By many a year the writing play'd me false.So early dost thou surfeit with the wealth,For which thou fearedst not in guile to takeThe lovely lady, and then mangle her?"I felt as those who, piercing not the driftOf answer made them, stand as if exposedIn mockery, nor know what to reply;When Virgil thus admonish'd: "Tell him quick,'I am not he, not he whom thou believest.' "And I, as was enjoin'd me, straight replied.[79]That heard, the spirit all did wrench his feet,And, sighing, next in woeful accent spake:"What then of me requirest? If to knowSo much imports thee, who I am, that thouHast therefore down the bank descended, learnThat in the mighty mantle I was robed,'And of a she-bear was indeed the son,So eager to advance my whelps, that thereMy having in my purse above I stow'd,And here myself. Under my head are dragg'dThe rest, my predecessors in the guiltOf simony. Stretch'd at their length, they lieAlong an opening in the rock. 'Midst themI also low shall fall, soon as he comes,For whom I took thee, when so hastilyI question'd. But already longer timeHath past, since my soles kindled, and I thusUpturn'd have stood, than is his doom to standPlanted with fiery feet. For after him,One yet of deeds more ugly shall arrive,From forth the west, a shepherd without law, 4Fated to cover both his form and mine.He a new Jason 5 shall be call'd, of whomIn Maccabees we read; and favor suchAs to that priest his King indulgent show'd,Shall be of France's monarch 6 shown to him."I know not if I here too far presumed,But in this strain I answer'd: "Tell me nowWhat treasures from Saint Peter at the firstOur Lord demanded, when he put the keysInto his charge? Surely he ask'd no moreBut 'Follow me!' Nor Peter, 7 nor the rest,[80]Or gold or silver of Matthias took,When lots were cast upon the forfeit placeOf the condemned soul.1 Abide thou then;Thy punishment of right is merited:And look thou well to that ill-gotten coin,Which against Charles2 thy hardihood inspired.If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not,Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yetSeverer speech might use. Your avariceO'ercasts the world with mourning, under footTreading the good, and raising bad men up.Of shepherds like to you, the EvangelistWas ware, when her, who sits upon the waves,With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld;She who with seven heads tower'd at her birth,And from ten horns her proof of glory drew,Long as her spouse in virtue took delight.Of gold and silver ye have made your god,Differing wherein from the idolater,But that he worships one, a hundred ye?Ah, Constantine! 10 to how much ill gave birth,Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower,Which the first wealthy Father gain'd from thee."Meanwhile, as thus I sung, he, whether wrathOr conscience smote him, violent upsprangSpinning on either sole. I do believeMy teacher well was pleased, with so composedA lip he listen'd ever to the soundOf the true words I utter'd. In both armsHe caught, and, to his bosom lifting me,Upward retraced the way of his descent.Nor weary of his weight, he press'd me close,Till to the summit of the rock we came,Our passage from the fourth to the fifth pier.His cherish'd burden there gendy he placed[81]Upon the rugged rock and steep, a pathNot easy for the clambering goat to mount.Thence to my view another vale appear'd.
Canto XX
¶ARGUMENT . — The Poet relates the punishment of such as presumed, while living, to predict future events. It is to have their faces reversed and set the contrary way on their limbs, so that, being deprived of the power to see before them, they are constrained ever to walk backward. Among these Virgil points out to him Amphiaraiis, Tiresias, Aruns, and Manto (from the mention of whom he takes occasion to speak of the origin of Mantua), together with several others, who had practised the arts of divination and astrology.
¶AND now the verse proceeds to torments new,/ \ Fit argument of this the twentieth strainX Of the first song, whose awful theme recordsThe spirits whelm'd in woe. Earnest I look'dInto the depth, that open'd to my view,Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheldA tribe, that came along the hollow vale,In silence weeping: such their step as walkQuires, chanting solemn litanies, on earth.As on them more direct mine eye descends,Each wonderously seem'd to be reversedAt the neck-bone, so that the countenanceWas from the reins averted; and becauseNone might before him look, they were compell'dTo advance with backward gait. Thus one perhapsHath been by force of palsy clean transposed,But I ne'er saw it nor believe it so.Now, reader! think within thyself, so GodFruit of thy reading give thee! how I longCould keep my visage dry, when I beheldNear me our form distorted in such guise,That on the hinder parts fallen from the faceThe tears down-streaming roll'd. Against a rockI leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim'd:"What, and art thou, too, witless as the rest?Here pity most doth show herself alive,When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his,Who with Heaven's judgment in his passion strives?[82]Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the manBefore whose eyes' earth gaped in Thebes, when allCried out 'Amphiaraiis, whither rushest?Why lea vest thou the war?' He not the lessFell ruining far as to Minos down,Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makesThe breast his shoulders; and who once too farBefore him wish'd to see, now backward looks,And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note,Who semblance changed, when woman he becameOf male, through every limb transform'd; and thenOnce more behoved him with his rod to strikeThe two entwining serpents, ere the plumes,That mark'd the better sex, might shoot again."Aruns,1 with rere his belly facing, comes.On Luni's mountains 'midst the marbles white,Where delves Carrara's hind, who wons beneath,A cavern was his dwelling, whence the starsAnd main-sea wide in boundless view he held."The next, whose loosen'd tresses overspreadHer bosom, which thou seest not (for each hairOn that side grows) was Manto, she who search'dThrough many regions, and at length her seatFix'd in my native land: whence a short spaceMy words detain thy audience. When her sireFrom life departed, and in servitudeThe city dedicate to Bacchus mourn'd,Long time she went a wanderer through the world.Aloft in Italy's delightful landA lake there lies, at foot of that proud AlpThat o'er the Tyrol locks Germania in,Its name Benacus, from whose ample breastA thousand springs, methinks, and more, betweenCamonica and Garda, issuing forth,Water the Apennine. There is a spot2[83]At midway of that lake, where he who bearsOf Trento's flock the pastoral staff, with himOf Brescia, and the Veronese, might eachPassing that way his benediction give.A garrison of goodly site and strongPeschiera1 stands, to awe with front opposedThe Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shoreMore slope each way descends. There, whatsoe'erBenacus' bosom holds not, tumbling o'erDown falls, and winds a river flood beneathThrough the green pastures. Soon as in his courseThe stream makes head, Benacus then no moreThey call the name, but Mincius, till at lastReaching Governo, into Po he falls.Not far his course hath run, when a wide flatIt finds, which overstretching as a marshIt covers, pestilent in summer oft.Hence journeying, the savage maiden sawMidst of the fen a territory wasteAnd naked of inhabitants. To shunAll human converse, here she with her slaves,Plying her arts, remain'd, and liv'd, and leftHer body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes,Who round were scatter'd, gathering to that place,Assembled; for its strength was great, enclosedOn all parts by the fen. On those dead bonesThey rear'd themselves a city, for her sakeCalling it Mantua, who first chose the spot,Nor ask'd another omen for the name;Wherein more numerous the people dwelt,Ere Casalodi's madness2 by deceitWas wronged of Pinamonte. If thou hearHenceforth another origin assign'dOf that my country, I forewarn thee now,That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth."[84]I answer'd, "Teacher, I conclude thy wordsSo certain, that all else shall be to meAs embers lacking life. But now of these,Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou seeAny that merit more especial note.For thereon is my mind alone intent."He straight replied: "That spirit, from whose cheekThe beard sweeps o'er his shoulders brown, what timeGrzcia was emptied of her males, that scarceThe cradles were supplied, the seer was heIn Aulis, who with Calchas gave the signWhen first to cut the cable. Him they namedEurypilus: so sings my tragic strain,In which majestic measure well thou know'st,Who know'st it all. That other, round the loinsSo slender of his shape, was Michael Scot, 4Practised in every slight of magic wile."Guido Bonatti 7 see: Asdente mark,"Who now were willing he had tended stillThe thread and cordwain, and too late repents."See next the wretches, who the needle left,The shuttle and the spindle, and becameDiviners: baneful witcheries they wroughtWith images and herbs. But onward now:For now doth Cain with fork of thorns* confineOn either hemisphere, touching the waveBeneath the towers of Sc /ille. YesternightThe moon was round. Thou mayst remember well:For she good service did thee in the gloomOf the deep wood." This said, both onward moved.
p. 84¶• ' It is not long since there was in this 1550. " He flourished about 1230 and city (Florence) a great master in necro 1260. Though a learned astronomer he mancy, called Michelc Scotto, because he was seduced by astrology, through which was from Scotland." Boccaccio, De he was greatly in favor with many cameron G. viii. N . 9. princes."