Canto IX   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—After some hindrances, and having seen the hellish furies and other monsters, the Poet, by the help of an angel, enters the city of Dis, wherein he discovers that the heretics are punished in tombs burning with intense fire; and he, together with Virgil, passes onward between the sepulchres and the walls of the city.   
    
    
THE HUE, 1 which coward dread on my pale cheeks      
Imprinted when I saw my guide turn back,      
Chased that from his which newly they had worn,      
And inwardly restrain’d it. He, as one      
Who listens, stood attentive: for his eye           5   
Not far could lead him through the sable air,      
And the thick-gathering cloud. “It yet behoves      
We win this fight;” thus he began: “if not,      
Such aid to us is offer’d—Oh! how long      
Me seems it, ere the promised help arrive.”           10   
  I noted, how the sequel of his words      
Cloked their beginning; for the last he spake      
Agreed not with the first. But not the less      
My fear was at his saying; sith I drew      
To import worse, perchance, than that he held,           15   
His mutilated speech. “Doth ever any      
Into this rueful concave’s extreme depth      
Descend, out of the first degree, whose pain      
Is deprivation merely of sweet hope?”      
  Thus I inquiring. “Rarely,” he replied,           20   
“It chances, that among us any makes      
This journey, which I wend. Erewhile, ’tis true,      
Once came I here beneath, conjured by fell      
Erichtho, 2 sorceress, who compell’d the shades      
Back to their bodies. No long space my flesh           25   
Was naked of me, when within these walls      
She made me enter, to draw forth a spirit      
From out of Judas’ circle. Lowest place      
Is that of all, obscurest, and removed      
Farthest from Heaven’s all-circling orb. The road           30   
Full well I know: thou therefore rest secure.      
That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round      
The city of grief encompasses, which now      
We may not enter without rage, “Yet more      
He added: but I hold it not in mind,           35   
For that mine eye toward the lofty tower      
Had drawn me wholly, to its burning top;      
Where, in an instant, I beheld uprisen      
At once three hellish furies stain’d with blood.      
In limb and motion feminine they seem’d;           40   
Around them greenest hydras twisting roll’d      
Their volumes; adders and cerastes crept      
Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.      
  He, knowing well the miserable hags      
Who tend the queen of endless owe, thus spake:           45   
“Mark thou each dire Erynnis. To the left,      
This is Megæra; on the right hand, she      
Who wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone      
I’ th’ midst.” This said, in silence he remain’d.      
Their breast they each one clawing tore; themselves           50   
Smote with their palms, and such thrill clamour raised,      
That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound.      
“Hasten Medusa: so to adamant      
Him shall we change;” all looking down exclaim’d:      
“E’en when by Theseus’ might assail’d, we took           55   
No ill revenge.” “Turn thyself round and keep      
Thy countenance hid; for if the Gorgon dire      
Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return      
Upwards would be forever lost.” This said,      
Himself, my gentle master, turn’d me round;           60   
Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own      
He also hid me. Ye of intellect      
Sound and entire, mark well the lore 3 conceal’d      
Under close texture of the mystic strain.      
  And now there came o’er the perturbed waves           65   
Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made      
Either shore tremble, as if of a wind      
Impetuous, from conflicting vapors sprung,      
That ’gainst some forest driving all his might,      
Plucks off the branches, beats them down, and hurls           70   
Afar; then, onward passing, proudly sweeps      
His whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.      
  Mine eyes he loosed, and spake: “And now direct      
Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam,      
There, thickest where the smoke ascends.” As frogs           75   
Before their foe the serpent, through the wave      
Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one      
Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits      
Destroy’d, so saw I fleeing before one      
Who pass’d with unwet feet the Stygian sound.           80   
He, from his face removing the gross air,      
Oft his left hand forth stretch’d, and seem’d alone      
By that annoyance wearied. I perceived      
That he was sent from Heaven; and to my guide      
Turn’d me, who signal made, that I should stand           85   
Quiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how full      
Of noble anger seem’d he. To the gate      
He came, and with his wand touch’d it, whereat      
Open without impediment it flew.      
  “Outcasts of heaven! O abject race, scorn’d!”           90   
Began he, on the horrid grunsel standing,      
“Whence doth this wild excess of insolence      
Lodge in you? wherefore kick you ’gainst that will      
Ne’er frustrate of its end, and which so oft      
Hath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?           95   
What profits at the Fates to butt the horn?      
Your Cerberus, 4 if ye remember, hence      
Bears still, peel’d of their hair, his throat and maw.”      
  This said, he turn’d back o’er the filthy way,      
And syllable to us spake none; but wore           100   
The semblance of a man by other care      
Beset, and keenly prest, than thought of him      
Who in his presence stands. Then we our steps      
Toward that territory moved, secure      
After the hallow’d words. We, unopposed,           105   
There enter’d; and, my mind eager to learn      
What state a fortress like to that might hold,      
I, soon as enter’d, throw mine eye around,      
And see, on every part, wide-stretching space,      
Replete with bitter pain and torment ill.           110   
  As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles, 5      
Or as at Pola, 6 near Quarnaro’s gulf,      
That closes Italy and laves her bounds,      
The place is all thick spread with sepulchres;      
So was it here, save what in horror here           115   
Excell’d: for ’midst the graves were scattered flames,      
Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn’d,      
That iron for no craft there hotter needs.      
  Their lids all hung suspended; and beneath,      
From them forth issued lamentable moans,           120   
Such as the sad and tortured well might raise.      
  I thus: “Master! say who are these, interr’d      
Within these vaults, of whom distinct we hear      
The dolorous sighs.” He answer thus return’d:      
“The arch-heretics are here, accompanied           125   
By every sect their followers; and much more      
Than thou believest, the tombs are freighted: like      
With like is buried; and the monuments      
Are different in degrees of heat.” This said,      
He to the right hand turning, on we pass’d           130   
Betwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.      
    
Note 1. “The hue,” Virgil, perceiving that Dante was pale with fear, restrained those outward tokens of displeasure which his own countenance had betrayed. [back]   
Note 2. Erichtho, a Thessalian sorceress (Lucan, “Pharsal.” 1. vi.), was employed by Sextus, son of Pompey the Great, to conjure up a spirit, who should inform him of the issue of the civil wars between his father and Cæsar. [back]   
Note 3. The Poet probably intends to call the reader’s attention to the allegorical and mystic sense of the present Canto, and not, as Venturi supposes, to that of the whole work. Landino supposes this hidden meaning to be that in the case of those vices which proceed from intemperance, reason, figured under the person of Virgil, with the ordinary grace of God, may be a sufficient safeguard; but that in the instance of more heinous crimes, such as those we shall hereafter see punished, a special grace, represented by the angel, is requisite for our defence [back]   
Note 4. “Your Cerberus.” Cerberus is feigned to have been dragged by Hercules, bound with a threefold chain, of which, says the angel, he still bears the marks. Lombardi blames the other interpreters for having supposed that the angel attributes this exploit to Hercules, a fabulous hero, rather than to our Saviour, It would seem as if the good father had forgotten that Cerberus is himself no less a creature of the imagination than the hero who encountered him. [back]   
Note 5. “The plains of Arles.” In Provence. These sepulchres are mentioned in the Life of Charlemagne, which has been attributed to Archbishop Turpin, cap. 28, and 30, and by Fazio degli Uberti, Dittamondo, L. iv. cap. xxi. [back]   
Note 6. “At Pola.” A city of Istria, situated near the gulf of Quarnaro, in the Adriatic Sea

Canto X   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—Dante, having obtained permission from his guide, holds discourse with Farinata degli Uberti and Cavalcante Cavalcanti, who lie in their fiery tombs that are yet open, and not to be closed up till after the last judgment. Farinata predicts the Poet’s exile from Florence; and shows him that the condemned have knowledge of future things, but are ignorant of what is at present passing, unless it be revealed by some newcomer from earth.   
    
    
NOW by a secret pathway we proceed,      
Between the walls, that hem the region round,      
And the tormented souls: my master first,      
I close behind his steps. “Virtue supreme!”      
I thus began: “Who through these ample orbs           5   
In circuit lead’st me, even as thou will’st;      
Speak thou, and satisfy my wish. May those,      
Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?      
Already all the lids are raised, and none      
O’er them keeps watch.” He thus in answer spake:           10   
“They shall be closed all, what-time they here      
From Josaphat 1 return’d shall come, and bring      
Their bodies, which above they now have left.      
The cemetery on this part obtain,      
With Epicurus, all his followers,           15   
Who with the body make the spirit die.      
Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon,      
Both to the question ask’d, and to the wish 2      
Which thou conceal’st in silence.” I replied:      
“I keep not, guide beloved! from thee my heart           20   
Secreted, but to shun vain length of words;      
A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself.”      
  “O Tuscan! thou, who through the city of fire      
Alive art passing, so discreet of speech:      
Here, please thee, stay awhile. Thy utterance           25   
Declares the place of thy nativity      
To be that noble land, with which perchance      
I too severely dealt.” Sudden that sound      
Forth issued from a vault, whereat, in fear,      
I somewhat closer to my leader’s side           30   
Approaching, he thus spake: “What dost thou? Turn:      
Lo! Farinata 3 there, who hath himself      
Uplifted: from his girdle upwards, all      
Exposed, behold him.” On his face was mine      
Already fix’d: his breast and forehead there           35   
Erecting, seem’d as in high scorn he held      
E’en Hell. Between the sepulchres, to him      
My guide thrust me, with fearless hands and prompt;      
This warning added: “See thy words be clear.”      
  He, soon as there I stood at the tomb’s foot,           40   
Eyed me a space; then in disdainful mood      
Address’d me: “Say what ancestors were thine.”      
  I, willing to obey him, straight reveal’d      
The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow      
Somewhat uplifting, cried: “Fiercely were they           45   
Adverse to me, my party, and the blood      
From whence I sprang: twice, 4 therefore, I abroad      
Scatter’d them.” “Though driven out, yet they each time      
From all parts,” answer’d I, “return’d; an art      
Which yours have shown they are not skill’d to learn.”           50   
  Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,      
Rose from his side a shade, 5 high as the chin,      
Leaning, methought, upon its knees upraised.      
It look’d around, as eager to explore      
If there were other with me; but perceiving           55   
That fond imagination quench’d, with tears      
Thus spake: “If thou through this blind prison go’st,      
Led by thy lofty genius and profound,      
Where is my son? 6 and wherefore not with thee?”      
I straight replied: “Not of myself I come;           60   
By him, who there expects me, through this clime      
Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son      
Had in contempt.” 7 Already had his words      
And mode of punishment read me his name,      
Whence I so fully answer’d. He at once           65   
Exclaim’d, up starting, “How! said’st thou, he had?      
No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye      
The blessed daylight?” Then, of some delay      
I made ere my reply, aware, down fell      
Supine, nor after forth appear’d he more.           70   
  Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom      
I yet was station’d, changed not countenance stern,      
Nor moved the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.      
“And if,” continuing the first discourse,      
“They in this art,” he cried, “small skill have shown;           75   
That doth torment me more e’en than this bed.      
But not yet fifty times 8 shall be relumed      
Her aspect, who reigns here queen of this realm, 9      
Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.      
So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,           80   
As thou shalt tell me why, in all their laws,      
Against my kin this people is so fell.”      
  “The slaughter 10 and great havoc,” I replied,      
“That color’d Arbia’s flood with crimson stain—      
To these impute, that in our hallow’d dome           85   
Such orisons 11 ascend.” Sighing he shook      
The head, then thus resumed: “In that affray      
I stood not singly, nor, without just cause,      
Assuredly, should with the rest have stirr’d;      
But singly there I stood, 12 when, by consent           90   
Of all, Florence had to the ground been razed,      
The one who openly forbade the deed.”      
  “So may thy lineage find at last repose,”      
I thus adjured him, “as thou solve this knot,      
Which now involves my mind. If right I hear,           95   
Ye seem to view beforehand that which time      
Leads with him, of the present uninform’d.”      
  “We view, as one who hath an evil sight,”      
He answer’d, “plainly, objects far remote;      
So much of his large splendor yet imparts           100   
The Almighty Ruler: but when they approach,      
Or actually exist, our intellect      
Then wholly fails; nor of your human state,      
Except what others bring us, know we aught.      
Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all           105   
Our knowledge in that instant shall expire,      
When on futurity the portals close.”      
  Then conscious of my fault, 13 and by remorse      
Smitten, I added thus: “Now shalt thou say      
To him there fallen, that his offspring still           110   
Is to the living join’d; and bid him know,      
That if from answer, silent, I abstain’d,      
’Twas that my thought was occupied, intent      
Upon that error, which thy help hath solved.”      
  But now my master summoning me back           115   
I heard, and with more eager haste besought      
The spirit to inform me, who with him      
Partook his lot. He answer thus return’d:      
“More than a thousand with me here are laid.      
Within is Frederick, 14 second of that name,           120   
And the Lord Cardinal, 15 and of the rest      
I speak not.” He, this said, from sight withdrew.      
But I my steps toward the ancient bard      
Reverting, ruminated on the words      
Betokening me such ill. Onward he moved,           125   
And thus, in going, question’d: “Whence the amaze      
That holds thy senses wrapt?” I satisfied      
The inquiry, and the sage enjoin’d me straight:      
“Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard,      
To thee importing harm; and note thou this,”           130   
With his raised finger bidding me take heed,      
“When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam, 16      
Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life      
The future tenor will to thee unfold.”      
  Forthwith he to the left hand turn’d his feet:           135   
We left the wall, and toward the middle space      
Went by a path that to a valley strikes,      
Which e’en thus high exhaled its noisome steam.      
    
Note 1. “Josaphat.” It seems to have been a common opinion among the Jews, as well as among many Christians, that the general judgment will be held in the valley of Josaphat, or Jehoshaphat. “I will also gather all nations, and will bring them down into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and will plead with them there for my people, and for my heritage Israel, whom they have scattered among the nations, and parted my land.”—Joel, iii. 2. [back]   
Note 2. “The wish.” The wish that Dante had not expressed was to see and converse with the followers of Epicurus; among whom, we shall see, were Farinata degli Uberti and Cavalcante Cavalcanti  [back]   
Note 3. “Farinata.” Farinata degli Uberti, a noble Florentine, was the leader of the Ghibelline faction, when they obtained a signal victory over the Guelfi at Montaperto, near the river Arbia. Macchiavelli calls him “a man of exalted soul, and great military talents.”—“Hist. of Flor.” b. ii. His grandson, Bonifacio, commonly called Fazio degli Uberti, wrote a poem, entitled the “Dittamonodo,” in imitation of Dante. [back]   
Note 4. “Twice.” The first time in 1248, when they were driven out by Frederick the Second. See G. Villani, lib. vi. c. xxxiv.; and the second time in 1260. See note to v. 83. [back]   
Note 5. “A shade.” The spirit of Cavalcante Cavalcanti, a noble Florentine, of the Guelf party. [back]   
Note 6. “My son.” Guido, the son of Cavalcante Cavalcanti; “he whom I call the first of my friends,” says Dante in his “Vita Nuova” where the commencement of their friendship is related. From the character given of him by contemporary writers, his temper was well formed to assimilate with that of our Poet. “He was,” according to G. Villani, lib. viii. c. xli., “of a philosophical and elegant mind, if he had not been too delicate and fastidious.” [back]   
Note 7.
           “———Guido they soon   
Had in contempt.”   
Guido Cavalcanti, being more given to philosophy than poetry, was perhaps no great admirer of Virgil. [back]   
Note 8. “Not yet fifty times.” “Not fifty months shall be passed, before thou shalt learn, by woeful experience, the difficulty of returning from banishment to thy native city.” [back]   
Note 9. “Queen of this realm.” The moon, one of whose titles in heathen mythology was Proserpine, queen of the shades below. [back]   
Note 10. “The slaughter.” “By means of Farinata degli Uberti, the Guelfi were conquered by the army of King Manfredi, near the river Arbia, with so great a slaughter, that those who escaped from that defeat took refuge, not in Florence, which city they considered as lost to them, but in Lucca.”—Macchiavelli, “Hist. of Flor.” b. ii. and G. Villani, lib. vi. c. lxxx. and lxxxi. [back]   
Note 11. “Such orisons.” This appears to allude to certain prayers which were offered up in the churches of Florence, for deliverance from the hostile attempts of the Uberti; or, it may be that the public councils being held in churches, the speeches delivered in them against the Uberti are termed “orisons,” or prayers. [back]   
Note 12. “Singly there I stood.” Guido Novello assembled a council of the Ghibellini at Empoli; where it was agreed by all, that, in order to maintain the ascendancy of the Ghibelline party in Tuscany, it was necessary to destroy Florence, which could serve only (the people of that city being Guelfi) to enable the party attached to the church to recover its strength. This cruel sentence, passed upon so noble a city, met with no opposition from any of its citizens or friends, except Farinata degli Uberti, who openly and without reserve forbade the measure; affirming, that he had endured so many hardships, with no other view than that of being able to pass his days in his own country. Macchiavelli, Hist. of Flor. b. ii. [back]   
Note 13. “My fault.” Dante felt remorse for not having returned an immediate answer to the inquiry of Cavalcante, from which delay he was led to believe that his son Guido was no longer living. [back]   
Note 14. “Frederick.” The Emperor Frederick II., who died in 1250. See notes to Canto xiii. [back]   
Note 15. “The Lord Cardinal.” Ottaviano Ubaldini, a Florentine, made cardinal in 1245, and deceased about 1273. On account of his great influence, he was generally known by the appellation of “the Cardinal.” It is reported of him that he declared if there were any such thing as a human soul he had lost his for the Ghibellini. [back]   
Note 16. “Her gracious beam.” Beatrice.

   
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, were stow’d:      
And here, to shun the horrible excess      
Of fetid exhalation upward cast           5   
From the profound abyss, behind the lid      
Of a great monument we stood retired,      
Whereon this scroll I mark’d: “I have in charge      
Pope Anastasius, 1 whom Photinus drew      
From the right path.” “Ere our descent, behoves           10   
We make delay, that somewhat first the sense,      
To the dire breath accustom’d, afterward      
Regard it not.” My master thus; to whom      
Answering I spake: “Some compensation find,      
That the time pass not wholly lost.” He then:           15   
“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 full      
Of spirits accurst; but that the sight alone           20   
Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how      
And for what cause in durance they abide.      
  “Of all malicious act abhorr’d in Heaven,      
The end is injury; and all such end      
Either by force or fraud works other’s woe.           25   
But fraud, because of man’s peculiar evil,      
To God is more displeasing; and beneath,      
The fraudulent are therefore doom’d to endure      
Severer pang. The violent occupy      
All the first circle; and because, to force,           30   
Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds,      
Each within other separate, is it framed.      
To God, his neighbor, and himself, by man      
Force may be offer’d; to himself I say,      
And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear           35   
At full. Death, violent death, and painful wounds      
Upon his neighbor he inflicts; and wastes,      
By devastation, pillage, and the flames,      
His substance. Slayers, and each one that smites      
In malice, plunderers, and all robbers, hence           40   
The torment undergo of the first round,      
In different herds. Man can do violence      
To himself and his own blessings: and for this,      
He, in the second round must aye deplore      
With unavailing penitence his crime,           45   
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 heart      
Denying and blaspheming His high power,           50   
And Nature with her kindly law contemning.      
And thence the inmost round marks with its seal      
Sodom, and Cahors, and all such as speak      
Contemptuously of the Godhead in their hearts.      
  “Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting,           55   
May be by man employ’d on one, whose trust      
He wins, or on another, who withholds      
Strict confidence. Seems as the latter way      
Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes.      
Whence in the second circle have their nest,           60   
Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries,      
Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduce      
To lust, or set their honesty at pawn,      
With such vile scum as these. The other way      
Forgets both Nature’s general love, and that           65   
Which thereto added afterward gives birth      
To special faith. Whence in the lesser circle,      
Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis,      
The traitor is eternally consumed.”      
  I thus: “Instructor, clearly thy discourse           70   
Proceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasm      
And 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,           75   
Wherefore within the city fire-illumed      
Are not these punish’d, if God’s wrath be on them?      
And if it be not, wherefore in such guise      
Are they condemn’d?” He answer thus return’d:      
“Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind,           80   
Not so accustom’d? or what other thoughts      
Possess it? Dwell not in thy memory      
The words, wherein thy ethic page 2 describes      
Three dispositions adverse to Heaven’s will,      
Incontinence, malice, and mad brutishness,           85   
And how incontinence the least offends      
God, and least guilt incurs? If well thou note      
This judgment, and remember who they are,      
Without these walls to vain repentance doom’d,      
Thou shalt discern why they apart are placed           90   
From these fell spirits, and less wreakful pours      
Justice divine on them its vengeance down.”      
  “O sun! who healest all imperfect sight,      
Thou so content’st me, when thou solvest my doubt,      
That ignorance not less than knowledge charms.           95   
Yet somewhat turn thee back,” I in these words      
Continued,” where thou said’st, that usury      
Offends celestial Goodness; and this knot      
Perplex’d unravel.” He thus made reply:      
“Philosophy, to an attentive ear,           100   
Clearly points out, not in one part alone,      
How imitative Nature takes her course      
From the celestial mind, and from its art:      
And where her laws 3 the Stagirite unfolds,      
Not many leaves scann’d o’er, observing well           105   
Thou shalt discover, that your art on her      
Obsequious follows, as the learner treads      
In his instructor’s step; so that your art      
Deserves the name of second in descent      
From God. These two, if thou recall to mind           110   
Creation’s holy book, 4 from the beginning      
Were the right source of life and excellence      
To human-kind. But in another path      
The usurer walks; and Nature in herself      
And in her follower thus he sets at nought,           115   
Placing elsewhere his hope. 5 But follow now      
My steps on forward journey bent; for now      
The Pisces play with undulating glance      
Along the horizon, and the Wain 6 lies all      
O’er the northwest; and onward there a space           120   
Is our steep passage down the rocky height.”      
    
Note 1. By some supposed to have been Anastasius II.; by others, the fourth of that name; while a third set, jealous of the integrity of the papal faith, contend that our poet has confounded him with Anastasius I., Emperor of the East. [back]   
Note 2. “Thy ethic page.” He refers to Aristotle’s Ethics, lib. vii. c. 1: “———let it be defined that respecting morals there are three sorts of things to be avoided, malice, incontinence, and brutishness.” [back]   
Note 3. “Her laws.” Aristotle’s Physics, lib. ii. c. 2: “Art imitates nature.” [back]   
Note 4. “Creation’s holy book.” Genesis, c. ii. v. 15: “And the Lord God took the man, and put him into the Garden of Eden, to dress it, and to keep it.” And, Genesis, c. iii. v. 19: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread.” [back]   
Note 5. “Placing elsewhere his hope.” The usurer, trusting in the produce of his wealth lent out on usury, despises nature directly, because he does not avail himself of her means for maintaining or enriching himself; and indirectly, because he does not avail himself of the means which art, the follower and imitator of nature, would afford him for the same purposes. [back]   
Note 6. “The Wain.” The constellation Boötes, or Charles’s Wain.

   
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.   
    
    
THE PLACE, where to descend the precipice      
We came, was rough as Alp; and on its verge      
Such object lay, as every eye would shun.      
As is that ruin, which Adice’s stream 1      
On this side Trento struck, shouldering the wave,           5   
Or loosed by earthquake or for lack of prop;      
For from the mountain’s summit, whence it moved      
To the low level, so the headlong rock      
Is shiver’d, that some passage it might give      
To him who from above would pass; e’en such           10   
Into the chasm was that descent: and there      
At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch’d      
The infamy of Crete, 2 detested brood      
Of the feign’d heifer: 3 and at sight of us      
It gnaw’d itself, as one with rage distract.           15   
To him my guide exclaim’d: “Perchance thou deem’st      
The King of Athens 4 here, who, in the world      
Above, thy death contrived. Monster! avaunt!      
He comes not tutor’d by thy sister’s art, 5      
But to behold your torments is he come.”           20   
  Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring      
Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow      
Hath struck him, but unable to proceed      
Plunges on either side; so saw I plunge      
The Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim’d:           25   
“Run to the passage! while he storms, ’tis well      
That thou descend.” Thus down our road we took      
Through those dilapidated crags, that oft      
Moved underneath my feet, to weight like theirs      
Unused. I pondering went, and thus he spake:           30   
“Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin’d steep,      
Guarded by the brute violence, which I      
Have vanguish’d now. Know then, that when I erst      
Hither descended to the nether Hell,      
This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt,           35   
(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived, 6      
Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil      
Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds      
Such trembling seized the deep concave and foul,      
I thought the universe was thrill’d with love,           40   
Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft      
Been into chaos turn’d: and in that point,      
Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.      
But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of blood      
Approaches, in the which all those are steep’d,           45   
Who have by violence injured.” O blind lust!      
O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on      
In the brief like, and in the eternal then      
Thus miserably o’erwhelm us. I beheld      
An ample foss, that in a bow was bent,           50   
As circling all the plain; for so my guide      
Had 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;           55   
And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows      
And missile weapons chosen first; of whom      
One cried from far: “Say, to what pain ye come      
Condemn’d, who down this steep have journey’d. Speak      
From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw.”           60   
  To whom my guide: “Our answer shall be made      
To 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 Deïanira died,           65   
And wrought himself revenge 7 or 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.” Around      
The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts           70   
At whatsoever spirit dares emerge      
From out the blood, more than his guilt allows.      
  We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,      
Drew near; when Chiron took an arrow forth,      
And with the notch push’d back his shaggy beard           75   
To the cheek-bone, then, his great mouth to view      
Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim’d:      
“Are ye aware, that he who comes behind      
Moves what he touches? The feet of the dead      
Are not so wont.” My trusty guide, who now           80   
Stood near his breast, where the two natures join,      
Thus made reply: “He is indeed alive,      
And solitary so must needs by me      
Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induced      
By strict necessity, not by delight.           85   
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 step      
To tread so wild a path, grant us, I pray,           90   
One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,      
Who to the ford may lead us, and convey      
Across, him mounted on his back; for he      
Is not a spirit that may walk the air.”      
  Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus           95   
To 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, along      
The border of the crimson-seething flood,           100   
Whence, from those steep’d within, loud shrieks arose.      
  Some there I mark’d, as high as to their brow      
Immersed, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:      
“These are the souls of tyrants, who were given      
To blood and rapine. Here they wail aloud           105   
Their merciless wrongs. Here Alexander dwells,      
And Dionysius fell, who many a year      
Of woe wrought for fair Sicily. That brow,      
Whereon the hair so jetty clustering hangs,      
Is Azzolino;  8 that with flaxen locks           110   
Obizzo 9 of Este, in the world destroy’d      
By his foul step-son.” To the bard revered      
I turn’d me round, and thus he spake: “Let him      
Be to thee now first leader, me but next      
To him in rank.” Then further on a space           115   
The Centaur paused, near some, who at the throat      
Were 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.”           120   
  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;           125   
And there our passage lay athwart the foss.      
  “As ever on this side the boiling wave      
Thou seest diminishing,” the Centaur said,      
“So on the other, be thou well assured,      
It lower still and lower sinks its bed,           130   
Till in that part it reuniting join,      
Where ’tis the lot of tyranny to mourn.      
There Heaven’s stern justice lays chastising hand      
On Attila, who was the scourge of earth,      
On Sextus and on Pyrrhus, 11 and extracts           135   
Tears ever by the seething flood unlock’d      
From the Rinieri, of Corneto this,      
Pazzo the other named, 12 who fill’d the ways      
With violence and war.” This said, he turn’d,      
And quitting us, alone repass’d the ford.           140   
    
Note 1. “Adice’s stream.” After a great deal having been said on the subject, it still appears very uncertain at what part of the river this fall of the mountain happened. [back]   
Note 2. “The infamy of Crete.” The Minotaur. [back]   
Note 3. “The feign’d heifer.” Pasiphaë. [back]   
Note 4. “The King of Athens.” Theseus, who was enabled by the instruction of Ariadne, the sister of the Minotaur, to destroy that monster. [back]   
Note 5. “Thy sister’s art.” Ariadne. [back]   
Note 6. Our Saviour, who, according to Dante, when he ascended from Hell, carried with him the souls of the Patriarchs, and of other just men, out of the first circle. See Canto iv. [back]   
Note 7. Nessus, when dying by the hand of Hercules, charged Deïanira to preserve the gore from his wound; for that if the affections of Hercules should at any time be estranged from her, it would recall them. Deïanira had occasion to try the experiment; and the venom, as Nessus had intended, caused Hercules to expire in torments. [back]   
Note 8. Azzolino, or Ezzolino di Romano, Lord of Padua, Vicenza, Verona, and Brescia, who died in 1260. His atrocities form the subject of a Latin tragedy, Eccerinis, by Albertino Mussato, of Padua, contemporary of Dante, and the most elegant writer of Latin verse of that age. [back]   
Note 9. “Obizzo of Este.” Marquis of Ferrara and of the Marca d’ Ancona, was murdered by his own son (whom, for that most unnatural act, Dante calls his stepson) for the sake of the treasures which his rapacity had amassed. [back]   
Note 10. “He.” “Henrie, the brother of this Edmund, and son to the foresaid King of Almaine (Richard, brother of Henry III of England), as he returned from Affrike, where he had been with Prince Edward, was slain at Viterbo in Italy by the hand of Guy de Montfort, the son of Simon de Montfort, Earl of Leicester, in revenge of the same Simon’s death. The murther was committed afore the high altar, as the same Henrie kneeled there to hear divine service.” A. D. 1272.—Holinshed’s Chron., p. 275. See also Giov. Villani, “Hist.” lib. vii. c. xl., where it is said “that the heart of Henry was put into a golden cup, and placed on a pillar at London Bridge for a memorial to the English of the said outrage.” [back]   
Note 11. Sextus, either the son of Tarquin the Proud or of Pompey the Great; and Pyrrhus, King of Epirus. [back]   
Note 12. Two noted marauders, by whose depredations the public ways were infested. The latter was of the noble family of Pazzi in Florence.

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, Piero delle 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 track      
Of steps had worn a way. Not verdant there      
The foliage, but of dusky hue; not light      
The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform’d           5   
And matted thick: fruits there were none, but thorns      
Instead, with venom fill’d. Less sharp than these,      
Less intricate the brakes, wherein abide      
Those animals, that hate the cultured fields,      
Betwixt Corneto and Cecina’s stream. 1           10   
  Here the brute harpies make their nest, the same      
Who from the Strophades the Trojan band      
Drove with dire boding o  their future woe.      
Broad are their pennons, of the human form      
Their neck and countenance, arm’d with talons keen           15   
The 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 now      
I’ th’ second round, and shalt be, till thou come           20   
Upon the horrid sand: look therefore well      
Around thee, and such things thou shalt behold,      
As would my speech discredit.” On all sides      
I heard sad plainings breathe, and none could see      
From whom they might have issued. In amaze           25   
Fast bound I stood. He, as it seem’d, believed      
That I had thought so many voices came      
From some amid those thickets close conceal’d,      
And thus his speech resum’d: “If thou lop off      
A single twig from one of those ill plants,           30   
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 thou me?”      
Then, as the dark blood trickled down its side,           35   
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 been      
The souls of serpents.” As a brand yet green,           40   
That burning at one end from the other sends      
A groaning sound, and hisses with the wind      
That forces out its way, so burst at once      
Forth from the broken splinter words and blood.      
  I, letting fall the bough, remain’d as one           45   
Assail’d by terror; and the sage replied:      
“If he, O injured spirit! could have believed      
What 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,           50   
Prompted him to this deed, which even now      
Myself I rue. But tell me, who thou wast;      
That, for this wrong to do thee some amends,      
In the upper world (for thither to return      
Is granted him) thy fame he may revive.”           55   
“That pleasant word of thine,” the trunk replied,      
“Hath so inveigled me, that I from speech      
Cannot refrain, wherein if I indulge      
A little longer, in the snare detain’d,      
Count it not grievous. I it was, 2 who held           60   
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 breast      
Scarce any other could admittance find.      
The faith I bore to my high charge was such,           65   
It cost me the life-blood that warm’d my veins.      
The harlot, who ne’er turn’d her gloating eyes      
From Cæsar’s household, common vice and pest      
Of courts, ’gainst me inflamed the minds of all;      
And to Augustus they so spread the flame,           70   
That my glad honours changed to bitter woes.      
My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought      
Refuge in death from scorn, and I became,      
Just as I was, unjust toward myself.      
By the new roots, which fix this stem, I swear,           75   
That never faith I broke my liege lord,      
Who merited such honour; and of you,      
If any to the world indeed return,      
Clear he from wrong my memory, that lies      
Yet prostrate under envy’s cruel blow.”           80   
  First somewhat pausing, till the mournful words      
Were 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’er           85   
Will, as thou think’st, content me; for no power      
Have I to ask, such pity is at my heart.”      
  He thus resumed: “So may he do for thee      
Freely what thou entreatest, as thou yet      
Be pleased, imprison’d spirit! to declare,           90   
How in these gnarled joints the soul is tied;      
And whether any ever from such frame      
Be loosen’d, if thou canst, that also tell.”      
  Thereat the trunk breathed hard, and the wind soon      
Changed into sounds articulate like these:           95   
“Briefly ye shall be answer’d. When departs      
The fierce soul from the body, by itself      
Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf      
By Minos doom’d, into the wood it falls,      
No place assign’d, but wheresoever chance           100   
Hurls it; there sprouting, as a grain of spelt,      
It rises to a sapling, growing thence      
A savage plant. The harpies, on its leaves      
Then feeding, cause both pain, and for the pain      
A vent to grief. We, as the rest, shall come           105   
For our own spoils, yet not so that with them      
We may again be clad; for what a man      
Takes from himself it is not just he have.      
Here we perforce shall drag them; and throughout      
The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung,           110   
Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade.”      
  Attentive yet to listen to the trunk      
We stood, expecting further speech, when us      
A noise surprised; as when a man perceives      
The wild boar and the hunt approach his place           115   
Of station’d watch, who of the beasts and boughs      
Loud rustling round him hears. And lo! there came      
Two 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!”           120   
The other, as seem’d, impatient of delay,      
Exclaiming, “Lano! 3 not so bent for speed      
Thy sinews, in the lists of Toppo’s field.”      
And then, for that perchance no longer breath      
Sufficed him, of himself and of a bush           125   
One group he made. Behind them was the wood      
Full 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 away           130   
The tortured limbs. My guide then seized my hand,      
And led me to the thicket, which in vain      
Mourn’d through its bleeding wounds: “O Giacomo      
Of Sant’ Andrea! 4 what avails it thee,”      
It cried, “that of me thou hast made thy screen?           135   
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 points      
Breathest out with blood thy lamentable speech?”      
  He answer’d: “O ye spirits! arrived in time           140   
To spy the shameful havoc that from me      
My leaves hath sever’d thus, gather them up,      
And at the foot of their sad parent-tree      
Carefully lay them. In that city 5 I dwelt,      
Who for the Baptist her first patron changed,           145   
Whence he for this shall cease not with his art      
To work her woe: and if there still remain’d not      
On Arno’s passage some faint glimpse of him,      
Those citizens, who rear’d once more her walls      
Upon the ashes left by Attila,           150   
Had labor’d without profit of their toil.      
I slung the fatal noose 6 from my own roof.”      
    
Note 1. A wild and woody tract, abounding in deer, goats, and wild boars. Cecina is a river not far to the south of Leghorn; Corneto, a small city on the same coast, in the patrimony of the Church. [back]   
Note 2. “I it was.” Piero delle Vigne, a native of Capua, who from a low condition raised himself, by his eloquence and legal knowledge, to the office of Chancellor to the Emperor Frederick II. The courtiers, envious of his exalted situation, forged letters to make Frederick believe that he held a secret and traitorous intercourse with the Pope, who was then at enmity with the Emperor. He was cruelly condemned to lose his eyes. Driven to despair by his unmerited calamity he dashed out his brains against the walls of a church, in the year 1245. [back]   
Note 3. Lano, a Siennese, who being reduced by prodigality to a state of extreme want, found his existence no longer supportable; and having been sent by his countrymen on a military expedition to assist the Florentines against the Aretini, took that opportunity of exposing himself to certain death, in the engagement which took place at Toppo, near Arezzo. See G. Villani, Hist. lib. vii. c. cxix. [back]   
Note 4. Jacopo da Sant’ Andrea, a Paduan, who, having wasted his property in the most wanton acts of profusion, killed himself in despair. [back]   
Note 5. “——— Florence, that city which changed her first patron Mars for St. John the Baptist.” [back]   
Note 6. “I slung the fatal noose.” We are not informed who this suicide was; some calling him Rocco de’ Mozzi, and others Lotto degli Agli.

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.   
    
    
SOON as the charity of native land      
Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter’d leaves      
Collected, and to him restored, who now      
Was hoarse with utterance. To the limit thence      
We came, which from the third the second round           5   
Divides, and where of justice is display’d      
Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen      
Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next      
A plain we reach’d, that from its sterile bed      
Each plant repell’d. The mournful wood waves round           10   
Its garland on all sides, as round the wood      
Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge,      
Our steps we stay’d. It was an area wide      
Of arid sand and thick, resembling most      
The soil that erst by Cato’s foot was trod.           15   
  Vengeance of heaven! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear’d      
By all, who read what here mine eyes beheld.      
  Of naked spirits many a flock I saw,      
All weeping piteously, to different laws      
Subjected; for on the earth some lay supine,           20   
Some crouching close were seated, others paced      
Incessantly around; the latter tribe      
More numerous, those fewer who beneath      
The torment lay, but louder in their grief.      
  O’er all the sand fell slowly wafting down           25   
Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow      
On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush’d.      
As, in the torrid Indian clime, the son      
Of Ammon saw, upon his warrior band      
Descending, solid flames, that to the ground           30   
Came down; whence he bethought him with his troop      
To trample on the soil; for easier thus      
The vapor was extinguish’d, while alone:      
So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith      
The marle glow’d underneath, as under stove           35   
The viands, doubly to augment the pain.      
Unceasing was the play of wretched hands,      
Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off      
The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began:      
“Instructor! thou who all things overcomest,           40   
Except the hardy demons that rush’d forth      
To stop our entrance at the gate, say who      
Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not      
The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn,      
As by the sultry tempest immatured?”           45   
  Straight he himself, who was aware I ask’d      
My guide of him, exclaim’d: “Such as I was      
When living, dead such now I am. If Jove      
Weary his workman out, from whom in ire      
He snatch’d the lightnings, that at my last day           50   
Transfix’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 cried      
In the Phlegræan warfare; and the bolts           55   
Launch he, full aim’d at me, with all his might;      
He never should enjoy a sweet revenge.”      
  Then thus my guide, in accent higher raised      
Than I before had heard him: “Capaneus!      
Thou art more punish’d, in that this thy pride           60   
Lives yet unquench’d: no torment, save thy rage,      
Were to thy fury pain proportion’d full.”      
  Next turning round to me, with milder lip      
He spake: “This of the seven kings was one,      
Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held,           65   
As still he seems to hold, God in disdain,      
And sets His high omnipotence at naught.      
But, as I told him, his despiteful mood      
Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it.      
Follow me now; and look thou set not yet           70   
Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood      
Keep ever close.” Silently on we pass’d      
To where there gushes from the forest’s bound      
A little brook, whose crimson’d wave yet lifts      
My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs           75   
From Bulicame, 1 to be portion’d out      
Among the sinful women, so ran this      
Down through the sand; its bottom and each bank      
Stone-built, and either margin at its side,      
Whereon I straight perceived our passage lay.           80   
  “Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate      
We enter’d first, whose threshold is to none      
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.”           85   
  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;           90   
Under whose monarch, in old times, the world      
Lived 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,           95   
Chose for the secret cradle of her son;      
And better to conceal him, drown’d in shouts      
His infant cries. Within the mount, upright      
An ancient form there stands, and huge, that turns      
His shoulders toward Damiata; and at Rome,           100   
As in his mirror, looks. Of finest gold      
His head is shaped, pure silver are the breast      
And arms, thence to the middle is of brass,      
And downward all beneath well-temper’d steel,      
Save the right foot of potter’s clay, on which           105   
Than on the other more erect he stands.      
Each part, except the gold, is rent throughout;      
And from the fissure tears distil, which join’d      
Penetrate to that cave. They in their course,      
Thus far precipitated down the rock,           110   
Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;      
Then by this straiten’d channel passing hence      
Beneath e’en to the lowest depth of all,      
Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself      
Shalt see it) I here give thee no account.”           115   
  Then I to him: “If from our world this sluice      
Be thus derived; wherefore to us but now      
Appears it at this edge?” He straight replied:      
“The place, thou know’st, is round: and though great part      
Thou have already past, still to the left           120   
Descending to the nethermost, not yet      
Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.      
Wherefore, if aught of new to us appear,      
It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks.”      
  Then I again inquired: “Where flow the streams           125   
Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one      
Thou tell’st not; and the other, of that shower,      
Thou say’st, is form’d.” He answer thus return’d:      
“Doubtless thy questions all well pleased I hear.      
Yet the red seething wave 2 might have resolved           130   
One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,      
But not within this hollow, in the place      
Whither, 3 to lave themselves, the spirits go,      
Whose blame hath been by penitence removed.”      
He added: “Time is now we quit the wood.           135   
Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give      
Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames;      
For over them all vapor is extinct.”      
    
Note 1. A warm medicinal spring near Viterbo; the waters of which, as Landino and Vellutelli affirm, passed by a place of ill-fame. Venturi conjectures that Dante would imply that it was the scene of licentious merriment among those who frequented its baths. [back]   
Note 2. Phlegethon. [back]   
Note 3. The other side of Purgatory.

   
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 are 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 now      
Envelop’d in the mist, that, from the stream      
Arising, hovers o’er, and saves from fire      
Both piers and water. As the Flemings rear      
Their mound, ’twixt Ghent and Bruges, to chase back           5   
The ocean, fearing his tumultuous tide      
That drives toward them; or the Paduans theirs      
Along the Brenta, to defend their towns      
And castles, ere the genial warmth be felt      
On Chiarentana’s 1 top; such were the mounds,           10   
So framed, though not in height or bulk to these      
Made equal, by the master, whosoe’er      
He was, that raised them here. We from the wood      
Were now so far removed, that turning round      
I might not have discern’d it, when we met           15   
A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.      
  They each one eyed us, as at eventide      
One eyes another under a new moon;      
And toward us sharpen’d their sight, as keen      
As an old tailor at his needle’s eye.           20   
  Thus narrowly explored by all the tribe,      
I was agnized of one, who by the skirt      
Caught me, and cried, “What wonder have we here?”      
  And I, when he to me outstretch’d his arm,      
Intently fix’d my ken on his parch’d looks,           25   
That, although smirch’d with fire, they hinder’d not      
But I remember’d him; and toward his face      
My hand inclining, answer’d: “Ser Brunetto!  2       
And are ye here?” He thus to me: “My son!      
Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto           30   
Latini but a little space with thee      
Turn back, and leave his fellows to proceed.”      
  I thus to him replied: “Much as I can,      
I thereto pray thee; and if thou be willing      
That I here seat me with thee, I consent;           35   
His leave, with whom I journey, first obtain’d.”      
  “O son!” said he, “whoever of this throng      
One instant stops, lies then a hundred years,      
No fan to ventilate him, when the fire      
Smitest sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close           40   
Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin      
My troop, who go mourning their endless doom.”      
  I dared not from the path descend to tread      
On equal ground with him, but held my head      
Bent down, as one who walks in reverent guise.           45   
  “What chance or destiny,” thus he began,      
“Ere the last day, conducts thee here below?      
And who is this that shows to thee the way?”      
  “There up aloft,” I answer’d, “in the life      
Serene, I wander’d in a valley lost,           50   
Before mine age had to its fullness reach’d.      
But yester-morn I left it: then once more      
Into that vale returning, him I met;      
And by this path homeward he leads me back.”      
  “If thou,” he answer’d, “follow but thy star,           55   
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, I      
Had gladly given thee comfort in thy work.           60   
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 crabs           65   
It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit.      
Old fame reports them in the world for blind,      
Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it well:      
Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee,      
Thy fortune hath such honor in reserve,           70   
That thou by either party shalt be craved      
With hunger keen: but be the fresh herb far      
From the goat’s tooth. The herd of Fesole      
May of themselves make litter, not touch the plant,      
If any such yet spring on their rank bed,           75   
In which the holy seed revives, transmitted      
From those true Romans, who still there remain’d,      
When it was made the nest of so much ill.”      
  “Were all my wish fulfill’d,” I straight replied,      
“Thou from the confines of man’s nature yet           80   
Hadst not been driven forth; for in my mind      
Is fix’d, and now strikes full upon my heart,      
The dear, benign, paternal image, such      
As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me      
The way for man to win eternity:           85   
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;      
And, with another text 3 to comment on,      
For her I keep it, the celestial dame,           90   
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.           95   
Speed Fortune then her wheel, as likes her best;      
The clown his mattock; all things have their course.”      
  Thereat my sapient guide upon his right      
Turn’d himself back, then looked at me, and spake:      
“He listens to good purpose who takes note.”           100   
  I not the less still on my way proceed,      
Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire      
Who are most known and chief among his tribe.      
  “To know of some is well;” he thus replied,      
“But of the rest silence may best beseem.           105   
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,           110   
Francesco, 4 herds among the wretched throng:      
And, if the wish of so impure a blotch      
Possess’d thee, him thou also mightst have seen,      
Who by the servants’ servant was transferr’d      
From Arno’s seat to Bacchiglione, where           115   
His ill-strain’d nerves he left. I more would add,      
But must from further speech and onward way      
Alike desist; for yonder I behold      
A mist new-risen on the sandy plain.      
A company, with whom I may not sort,           120   
Approaches, I commend my Treasure to thee,      
Wherein I yet survive; my sole request.”      
  This said, he turn’d, and seem’d as one of those      
Who o’er Verona’s champaign try their speed      
For the green mantle; and of them he seem’d,           125   
Not he who loses but who gains the prize.      
    
Note 1. A part of the Alps where the Brenta rises, swollen by melting snows. [back]   
Note 2. “Ser Brunetto, a Florentine, the secretary or chancellor of the city, and Dante’s preceptor, hath left us a work so little read, that both the subject of it and the language of it have been mistaken. It is in the French spoken in the reign of St. Louis, under the title of ‘Tresor’; and contains a species of philosophical lectures.” [back]   
Note 3. “With another text.” He refers to the predictions of Farinata, in Canto x. [back]   
Note 4. “Francesco.” Accorso, a Florentine, interpreted the Roman law at Bologna, and died in 1229, at the age of 78. His authority was so great as to exceed that of all the other interpreters, so that Cino da Pistoia termed him the Idol of Advocates. His sepulchre, and that of his son Francesco here spoken of, is at Bologna, with this short epitaph: “Sepulcrum Accursii Glossatoris et Francisci eus Filii.”

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.   
    
    
NOW came I where the water’s din was heard      
As down it fell into the other round,      
Resounding like the hum of swarming bees:      
When forth together issued from a troop,      
That pass’d beneath the fierce tormenting storm,           5   
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 deem      
To be some inmate of our evil land.”      
  Ah me! what wounds I mark’d upon their limbs,           10   
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:           15   
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 three           20   
Whirl’d round together in one restless wheel.      
As naked champions, smear’d with slippery oil      
Are wont, intent, to watch their place of hold      
And vantage, ere in closer strife they meet;      
Thus each one, as he wheel’d, his countenance           25   
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 cheer      
Thus peel’d with flame, do call forth scorn on us           30   
And our entreaties, let our great renown      
Incline thee to inform us who thou art,      
That dost imprint, with living feet unharm’d,      
The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou seest      
My steps pursuing, naked though he be           35   
And reft of all, was of more high estate      
Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste      
Gualdrada, 1 him they Guidoguerra call’d,      
Who in his lifetime many a noble act      
Achieved, both by his wisdom and his sword.           40   
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,           45   
Of savage temper, more than aught beside      
Hath to this evil brought.” If from the fire      
I had been shelter’d, down amidst them straight      
I then had cast me; nor my guide, I deem,      
Would have restrain’d my going: but that fear           50   
Of the dire burning vanquish’d the desire,      
Which made me eager of their wish’d embrace.      
  I then began: “Nor scorn, but grief much more,      
Such as long time alone can cure, your doom      
Fix’d deep within me, soon as this my lord           55   
Spake words, whose tenor taught me to expect      
That such a race, as ye are, was at hand.      
I am a countryman of yours, who still      
Affectionate have utter’d, and have heard      
Your deeds and names renown’d. Leaving the gall,           60   
For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide      
Hath promised to me. But behoves, that far      
As to the centre first I downward tend.”  “So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,”He answer straight return’d; “and so thy fame      
Shine bright when thou art gone, as thou shalt tell,      
If courtesy and valor, as they wont,           65   
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,           70   
Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee      
Engender’d, so that now in tears thou mourn’st!”      
  Thus cried I, with my face upraised, and they      
All three, who for an answer took my words,      
Look’d at each other, as men look when truth           75   
Comes to their ear. “If at so little cost,”      
They all at once rejoin’d, “thou satisfy      
Others who question thee, O happy thou!      
Gifted with words so apt to speak thy thought.      
Wherefore, if thou escape this darksome clime,           80   
Returning to behold the radiant stars,      
When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, 5      
See that of us thou speak among mankind.”      
  This said, they broke the circle, and so swift      
Fled, that as pinions seem’d their nimble feet.           85   
  Not in so short a time might one have said      
“Amen,” as they had vanish’d. Straight my guide      
Pursued his track. I follow’d: and small space      
Had we past onward, when the water’s sound      
Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce           90   
Heard one another’s speech for the loud din.      
  E’en as the river, 6 that first holds its course      
Unmingled from the Mount of Vesulo,      
On the left side of Apennine, toward      
The east, which Acquacheta higher up           95   
They call, ere it descend into the vale,      
At Forli, 7 by that name no longer known,      
Rebellows o’er Saint Benedict, roll’d on      
From the Alpine summit down a precipice,      
Where space 8 enough to lodge a thousand spreads;           100   
Thus downward from a craggy steep we found      
That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud,      
So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn’d.      
  I had a cord 9 that braced my girdle round,      
Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take           105   
The painted leopard. This when I had all      
Unloosen’d from me (so my master bade)      
I gather’d up, and stretch’d it forth to him.      
Then to the right he turn’d, and from the brink      
Standing few paces distant, cast it down           110   
Into the deep abyss. “And somewhat strange,”      
Thus to myself I spake, “signal so strange      
Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye      
Thus follows.” Ah! what caution must men use      
With those who look not at the deed alone,           115   
But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill.      
  “Quickly shall come,” he said, “what I expect;      
Thine eye discover quickly that, whereof      
Thy thought is dreaming.” Ever to that truth,      
Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears,           120   
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!           125   
That through the gross and murky air I spied      
A shape come swimming up, that might have quell’d      
The stoutest heart with wonder; in such guise      
As one returns, who hath been down to loose      
An anchor grappled fast against some rock,           130   
Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies,      
Who, upward springing, close draws in his feet.      
    
Note 1. Gualdrada.” Gualdrada was the daughter of Bellincione Berti, of whom mention is made in the Paradise, Cantos xv and xvi. He was of the family of Ravignani, a branch of the Adimari. The Emperor Otho IV being at a festival in Florence, where Gualdrada was present, was struck with her beauty; and inquiring who she was, was answered by Bellincione, that she was the daughter of one who, if it was his Majesty’s pleasure, would make her admit the honor of his salute. On overhearing this, she arose from her seat, and blushing, desired her father that he would not be so liberal in his offers. The Emperor was delighted by her resolute modesty, and calling to him Guido, one of his barons, gave her to him in marriage; at the same time raising him to the rank of a count, and bestowing on her the whole of Casentino, and a part of the territory of Romagna, as her portion. Two sons were the offspring of this union, Guglielmo and Ruggieri; the latter was father of Guidoguerra, who, at the head of four hundred Florentines of the Guelf party, was signally instrumental to the victory of Charles of Anjou at Benevento, over Manfredi, King of Naples, in 1265. One consequence of this was the expulsion of the Ghibellini and the re-establishment of the Guelfi at Florence. [back]   
Note 2. Tegghiaio Aldobrandi endeavored to dissuade the Florentines from the attack which they meditated against the Siennese; the rejection of his counsel occasioned the defeat which the former sustained at Montaperto, and the consequent banishment of the Guelfi from Florence. [back]   
Note 3. Giacopo Rusticucci, a Florentine, remarkable for his opulence and generosity of spirit. [back]   
Note 4. Guglielmo Borsiere, a Florentine, whom Boccaccio terms “a man of courteous and elegant manners, and of great readiness in conversation.” [back]   
Note 5. “Quando ti gioverà dicere io fui.” So Tasso, “G.L.” c. xv. st. 38:
           “Quando mi gioverà narrar altrui   
Le novità vedute, e dire; io fui.”   
 [back]   
Note 6. He compares the fall of Phlegethon to that of the Montone (a river in Romagna) form the Apennines above the Abbey of St. Benedict. All the other streams that rise between the sources of the Po and the Montone, and fall from the left side of the Apennines, join the Po and accompany it to the sea. [back]   
Note 7. There it loses the name of Acquacheta, and takes that of Montone. [back]   
Note 8. Either because the abbey was capable of containing more than those who occupied it, or because (says Landino) the lords of that territory had intended to build a castle near the water-fall, and to collect within its walls the population of the neighboring villages. [back]   
Note 9. “A cord.” It is believed that our poet in early life, had entered into the order of St. Francis. By observing the rules of that profession he had designed “to take the painted leopard” (that animal represented Pleasure) “with this cord.”)

Canto XVII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—The monster Geryon 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.   
    
    
“LO! the fell monster 1 with the deadly sting,      
Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls      
And firm embattled spears, and with his filth      
Taints all the world.” Thus me my guide address’d,      
And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore,           5   
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,           10   
So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;      
The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws      
Reach’d to the arm-pits; and the back and breast,      
And either side, were painted o’er with nodes      
And orbits. Colours variegated more           15   
Nor Turks nor Tartars e’er on cloth of state      
With 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;           20   
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 void      
Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork,           25   
With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. Then thus my guide,      
“Now need our way must turn few steps apart,      
Far as to that ill beast, who couches there.”      
  Thereat, toward the right our downward course      
We shaped, and, better to escape the flame           30   
And burning marle, ten paces on the verge      
Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive,      
A little farther on mine eye beholds      
A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand      
Near to the void. Forthwith my master spake:           35   
“That to the full thy knowledge may extend      
Of all this round contains, go now, and mark      
The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse.      
Till thou returnest, I with him meantime      
Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe           40   
The aid of his strong shoulders.” Thus alone,      
Yet forward on the extremity I paced      
Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe      
Were seated. At the eyes forth gush’d their pangs,      
Against the vapors and the torrid soil           45   
Alternately their shifting hands they plied.      
Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply      
Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore      
By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.      
  Noting the visages of some, who lay           50   
Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire,      
One of them all I knew not; but perceived,      
That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch 2      
With colours and with emblems various mark’d,      
On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed.           55   
  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 4 I beheld, than blood more red,           60   
A goose display of whiter wing than curd.      
And one, who bore a fat and azure swine 5      
Pictured 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 here           65   
Vitaliano 6 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 pouch      
With the three goats will bring.’” This said, he writhed           70   
The mouth, and loll’d the tongue out, like an ox      
That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay      
He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long,      
Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn’d.      
  My guide already seated on the haunch           75   
Of the fierce animal I found; and thus      
He me encouraged. “Be thou stout: be bold.      
Down such a steep flight must we now descend.      
Mount thou before: for, that no power the tail      
May have to harm thee, I will be i’ th’ midst.”           80   
As one, who hath an ague fit so near,      
His nails already are turn’d blue, and he      
Quivers all o’er, if he but eye the shade;      
Such was my cheer at hearing of his words.      
But shame soon interposed her threat, who makes           85   
The servant bold in presence of his lord.      
  I settled me upon those shoulders huge,      
And would have said, but that the words to aid      
My purpose came not, “Look thou clasp me firm.”      
  But he whose succour then not first I proved,           90   
Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft,      
Embracing, held me up; and thus he spake:      
“Geryon! now move thee: be thy wheeling gyres      
Of ample circuit, easy thy descent.      
Think on the unusual burden thou sustain’st.”           95   
  As a small vessel, backening out from land,      
Her station quits; so thence the monster loosed,      
And, when he felt himself at large, turn’d round      
There, where the breast had been, his forked tail.      
Thus, like an eel, outstretch’d at length he steer’d,           100   
Gathering the air up with retractile claws.      
  Not greater was the dread, when Phaeton      
The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven,      
Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames;      
Nor when ill-fated Icarus perceived,           105   
By liquefaction of the scalded wax,      
The trusted pennons loosen’d from his loins,      
His sire exclaiming loud, “Ill way thou keep’st,”      
Than was my dread, when round me on each part      
The air I view’d, and other object none           110   
Save the fell beast. He, slowly sailing, wheels      
His downward motion, unobserved of me,      
But that the wind, arising to my face,      
Breathes on me from below. Now on our right      
I heard the cataract beneath us leap           115   
With 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,           120   
By the dread torments that on every side      
Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound.      
  As falcon, that hath long been on the wing,      
But lure nor bid hath seen, while in despair      
The falconer cries, “Ah me! thou stoop’st to earth,”           125   
Wearied descends, whence nimbly he arose      
In many an airy wheel, and lighting sits      
At distance from his lord in angry mood;      
So Geryon lighting places us on foot      
Low down at base of the deep-furrow’d rock,           130   
And, of his burden there discharged, forthwith      
Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.      
    
Note 1. “The fell monster.” Fraud. [back]   
Note 2. A purse, whereon the armorial bearings of each were emblazoned. According to Landino, our Poet implies that the usurer can pretend to no other honor than such as he derives from his purse and his family. The description of persons by their heraldic insignia is remarkable. [back]   
Note 3. “A yellow purse.” The arms of the Gianfigliazzi of Florence. [back]   
Note 4. The arms of the Ubbriachi, another Florentine family of high distinction. [back]   
Note 5. The arms of the Scrovigni, a noble family of Padua. [back]   
Note 6. Vitaliano del Dente, a Paduan. [back]   
Note 7. Giovanni Bujamonti, the most infamous usurer of his time 

Canto XVIII   
    
    
ARGUMENT.—The Poet describes the situation and form of the eight 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, either 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 are condemned to remain immersed in filth.   
    
    
THERE is a place within the depths of Hell      
Call’d Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain’d      
With hue ferruginous, e’en as the steep      
That round it circling winds. Right in the midst      
Of that abominable region yawns           5   
A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame      
Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains,      
Throughout its round, between the gulf and base      
Of the high craggy banks, successive forms      
Ten bastions, in its hollow bottom raised.           10   
  As where, to guard the walls, full many a foss      
Begirds some stately castle, sure defence      
Affording to the space within; so here      
Were model’d these: and as like fortresses,      
E’en from their threshold to the brink without,           15   
Are flank’d with bridges; from the rock’s low base      
Thus flinty paths advanced, that ’cross the moles      
And dykes struck onward far as to the gulf,      
That in one bound collected cuts them off.      
Such was the place, wherein we found ourselves           20   
From Geryon’s back dislodged. The bard to left      
Held on his way, and I behind him moved.      
  On our right hand new misery I saw,      
New pains, new executioner of wrath,      
That swarming peopled that first chasm. Below           25   
Were naked sinners. Hitherward they came,      
Meeting our faces, from the middle point;      
With us beyond, but with a larger stride.      
E’en thus the Romans, 1 when the year returns      
Of Jubilee, with better speed to rid           30   
The thronging multitudes, their means devise      
For such as pass the bridge; that on one side      
All front toward the castle, and approach      
Saint Peter’s fane, on the other toward the mount.      
  Each diverse way, along the grisly rock,           35   
Horn’d demons I beheld, with lashes huge,      
That on their back unmercifully smote.      
Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripe!      
None for the second waited, nor the third.      
  Meantime, as on I pass’d, one met my sight,           40   
Whom soon as view’d, “Of him,” cried I, “not yet      
Mine eye hath had his fill.” I therefore stay’d      
My feet to scan him, and the teacher kind      
Paused with me, and consented I should walk      
Backward a space; and the tormented spirit,           45   
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 thee           50   
Into this bitter seasoning?” He replied:      
“Unwillingly I answer to thy words.      
But thy clear speech, that to my mind recalls      
The world I once inhabited, constrains me.      
Know then ’t was I who led fair Ghisola           55   
To do the Marquis’ will, however fame      
The shameful tale have bruited. Nor alone      
Bologna hither sendeth me to mourn.      
Rather with us the place is so o’er throng’d,      
That not so many tongues this day are taught,           60   
Betwixt the Reno and Savena’s stream,      
To answer Sipa 3 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 throng           65   
Struck and exclaim’d, “Away, corrupter! here      
Women are none for sale.” Forthwith I join’d      
My escort, and few paces thence we came      
To where a rock forth issued from the bank.      
That easily ascended, to the right           70   
Upon its splinter turning, we depart      
From those eternal barriers. When arrived      
Where, underneath, the gaping arch lets pass      
The scourged souls: “Pause here,” the teacher said,      
“And let these others miserable now           75   
Strike 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 came      
From the other side toward us, like the rest,      
Excoriate from the lash. My gentle guide,           80   
By me unquestion’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 won           85   
The ram from Colchis. To the Lemnian isle      
His passage thither led him, when those bold      
And pitiless women had slain all their males.      
There he with tokens and fair witching words      
Hypsipyle 4 beguiled, a virgin young,           90   
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 deceit           95   
To his have practised. And thus much to know      
Of the first vale suffice thee, and of those      
Whom its keen torments urge.” Now had we come      
Where, crossing the next pier, the straiten’d path      
Bestrides its shoulders to another arch.           100   
  Hence, in the second chasm we heard the ghosts,      
Who gibber in low melancholy sounds,      
With wide-stretch’d nostrils snort, and on themselves      
Smite with their palms. Upon the banks a scurf,      
From the foul steam condensed, encrusting hung,           105   
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,           110   
A crowd immersed in ordure, that appear’d      
Draff of the human body. There beneath      
Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark’d      
One with his head so grimed, ’t were hard to deem      
If he were clerk or layman. Loud he cried:           115   
“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 Alessio 5 art, of Lucca sprung.           120   
Therefore than all the rest I scan thee more.”      
Then beating on his brain, these words he spake:      
“Me thus low down my flatteries have sunk,      
Wherewith I ne’er enough could glut my tongue.”      
  My leader thus: “A little further stretch           125   
Thy face, that thou the visage well mayst note      
Of that besotted, sluttish courtesan,      
Who there doth rend her with defiled nails,      
Now crouching down, now risen on her feet.      
Thaïs 6 is this, the harlot, whose false lip           130   
Answer’d her doting paramour that ask’d,      
‘Thankest me much!’—‘Say rather, wondrously,’      
And, seeing this, here satiate be our view.”      
    
Note 1. In the year 1300, Pope Boniface VIII, to remedy the inconvenience occasioned by the press over the bridge of St. Angelo during the time of the Jubilee, caused it to be divided lengthwise by a partition. G. Villani, who was present, describes the order that was preserved, lib. viii. c. xxxvi. It was at this time, and on this occasion, that he first conceived the design of “compiling his book.” [back]   
Note 2. Venedico Caccianimico, a Bolognese, who prevailed on his sister Ghisola to prostitute herself to Obizzo da Este. (See Canto xii.) [back]   
Note 3. “To answer Sipa.” He denotes Bologna by its situation between the rivers Savena to the east and Reno to the west, and by a peculiarity of dialect, the use of the affirmative “sipa” instead either of “si” or of “sia.” [back]   
Note 4. She deceived the other women, by concealing her father Thoas, when they slew their males. [back]   
Note 5. Of the old Interminei family. [back]   
Note 6. “Thaïs.” In the Eunuchus of Terence, Thraso asks if Thaïs was obliged to him for his present; and Gnatho replies, that she had expressed her obligation in the most forcible terms.