Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of my own house I made myself a gibbet.”

Inferno: Canto XIV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And over them all vapours are extinguished.”

Inferno: Canto XV

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inferno: Canto XVI

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.

Inferno: Canto XVII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sped away as arrow from the string.

Inferno: Canto XVIII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One work. Many languages. One reading experience.”