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The Divine Comedy (Dante's Inferno)
THE VISION OR, HELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE OF DANTE ALIGHIERI
TRANSLATED BY THE REV. H. F. CARY, A.M.
HELL
CANTO I
IN the midway of this our mortal life, I found me in a gloomy wood,
astray Gone from the path direct: and e'en to tell It were no easy
task, how savage wild That forest, how robust and rough its growth,
Which to remember only, my dismay Renews, in bitterness not far from
death. Yet to discourse of what there good befell, All else will I
relate discover'd there. How first I enter'd it I scarce can say, Such
sleepy dullness in that instant weigh'd My senses down, when the true
path I left, But when a mountain's foot I reach'd, where clos'd The
valley, that had pierc'd my heart with dread, I look'd aloft, and saw
his shoulders broad Already vested with that planet's beam, Who leads
all wanderers safe through every way. Then was a little respite to the
fear, That in my heart's recesses deep had lain, All of that night, so
pitifully pass'd: And as a man, with difficult short breath, Forespent
with toiling, 'scap'd from sea to shore, Turns to the perilous wide
waste, and stands At gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'd
Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits, That none hath
pass'd and liv'd. My weary frame After short pause recomforted, again
I journey'd on over that lonely steep, The hinder foot still firmer.
Scarce the ascent Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light, And
cover'd with a speckled skin, appear'd, Nor, when it saw me, vanish'd,
rather strove To check my onward going; that ofttimes With purpose to
retrace my steps I turn'd. The hour was morning's prime, and on his
way Aloft the sun ascended with those stars, That with him rose, when
Love divine first mov'd Those its fair works: so that with joyous
hope All things conspir'd to fill me, the gay skin Of that swift
animal, the matin dawn And the sweet season. Soon that joy was
chas'd, And by new dread succeeded, when in view A lion came, 'gainst
me, as it appear'd, With his head held aloft and hunger-mad, That e'en
the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf Was at his heels, who in her
leanness seem'd Full of all wants, and many a land hath made
Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear O'erwhelmed me, at the sight
of her appall'd, That of the height all hope I lost. As one, Who with
his gain elated, sees the time When all unwares is gone, he inwardly
Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I, Haunted by that fell
beast, never at peace, Who coming o'er against me, by degrees Impell'd
me where the sun in silence rests. While to the lower space with
backward step I fell, my ken discern'd the form one of one, Whose
voice seem'd faint through long disuse of speech. When him in that
great desert I espied, "Have mercy on me!" cried I out aloud,
"Spirit! or living man! what e'er thou be!" He answer'd: "Now not
man, man once I was, And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana both By
country, when the power of Julius yet Was scarcely firm. At Rome my
life was past Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time Of fabled deities
and false. A bard Was I, and made Anchises' upright son The subject
of my song, who came from Troy, When the flames prey'd on Ilium's
haughty towers. But thou, say wherefore to such perils past Return'st
thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount Ascendest, cause and source
of all delight?" "And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,
From which such copious floods of eloquence Have issued?" I with
front abash'd replied. "Glory and light of all the tuneful train! May
it avail me that I long with zeal Have sought thy volume, and with
love immense Have conn'd it o'er. My master thou and guide! Thou he
from whom alone I have deriv'd That style, which for its beauty into
fame Exalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled. O save me from her,
thou illustrious sage! For every vein and pulse throughout my frame
She hath made tremble." He, soon as he saw That I was weeping,
answer'd, "Thou must needs Another way pursue, if thou wouldst 'scape
From out that savage wilderness. This beast, At whom thou criest, her
way will suffer none To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:
So bad and so accursed in her kind, That never sated is her ravenous
will, Still after food more craving than before. To many an animal in
wedlock vile She fastens, and shall yet to many more, Until that
greyhound come, who shall destroy Her with sharp pain. He will not
life support By earth nor its base metals, but by love, Wisdom, and
virtue, and his land shall be The land 'twixt either Feltro. In his
might Shall safety to Italia's plains arise, For whose fair realm,
Camilla, virgin pure, Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell. He with
incessant chase through every town Shall worry, until he to hell at
length Restore her, thence by envy first let loose. I for thy profit
pond'ring now devise, That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide Will
lead thee hence through an eternal space, Where thou shalt hear
despairing shrieks, and see Spirits of old tormented, who invoke A
second death; and those next view, who dwell Content in fire, for that
they hope to come, Whene'er the time may be, among the blest, Into
whose regions if thou then desire T' ascend, a spirit worthier then I
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart, Thou shalt be left:
for that Almighty King, Who reigns above, a rebel to his law, Adjudges
me, and therefore hath decreed, That to his city none through me
should come. He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds His
citadel and throne. O happy those, Whom there he chooses!" I to him
in few: "Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore, I do beseech
thee (that this ill and worse I may escape) to lead me, where thou
saidst, That I Saint Peter's gate may view, and those Who as thou
tell'st, are in such dismal plight." Onward he mov'd, I close his
steps pursu'd.
CANTO II
NOW was the day departing, and the air, Imbrown'd with shadows, from
their toils releas'd All animals on earth; and I alone Prepar'd myself
the conflict to sustain, Both of sad pity, and that perilous road,
Which my unerring memory shall retrace. O Muses! O high genius! now
vouchsafe Your aid! O mind! that all I saw hast kept Safe in a
written record, here thy worth And eminent endowments come to proof. I
thus began: "Bard! thou who art my guide, Consider well, if virtue
be in me Sufficient, ere to this high enterprise Thou trust me. Thou
hast told that Silvius' sire, Yet cloth'd in corruptible flesh, among
Th' immortal tribes had entrance, and was there Sensible present. Yet
if heaven's great Lord, Almighty foe to ill, such favour shew'd, In
contemplation of the high effect, Both what and who from him should
issue forth, It seems in reason's judgment well deserv'd: Sith he of
Rome, and of Rome's empire wide, In heaven's empyreal height was
chosen sire: Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain'd And
'stablish'd for the holy place, where sits Who to great Peter's sacred
chair succeeds. He from this journey, in thy song renown'd, Learn'd
things, that to his victory gave rise And to the papal robe. In
after-times The chosen vessel also travel'd there, To bring us back
assurance in that faith, Which is the entrance to salvation's way. But
I, why should I there presume? or who Permits it? not, Aeneas I nor
Paul. Myself I deem not worthy, and none else Will deem me. I, if on
this voyage then I venture, fear it will in folly end. Thou, who art
wise, better my meaning know'st, Than I can speak." As one, who
unresolves What he hath late resolv'd, and with new thoughts Changes
his purpose, from his first intent Remov'd; e'en such was I on that
dun coast, Wasting in thought my enterprise, at first So eagerly
embrac'd. "If right thy words I scan," replied that shade
magnanimous, "Thy soul is by vile fear assail'd, which oft So
overcasts a man, that he recoils From noblest resolution, like a beast
At some false semblance in the twilight gloom. That from this terror
thou mayst free thyself, I will instruct thee why I came, and what I
heard in that same instant, when for thee Grief touch'd me first. I
was among the tribe, Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blest And
lovely, I besought her to command, Call'd me; her eyes were brighter
than the star Of day; and she with gentle voice and soft Angelically
tun'd her speech address'd: "O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose
fame Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts! A friend, not of
my fortune but myself, On the wide desert in his road has met
Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn'd. Now much I dread
lest he past help have stray'd, And I be ris'n too late for his
relief, From what in heaven of him I heard. Speed now, And by thy
eloquent persuasive tongue, And by all means for his deliverance meet,
Assist him. So to me will comfort spring. I who now bid thee on this
errand forth Am Beatrice; from a place I come
(Note: Beatrice. I use this word, as it is pronounced in the
Italian, as consisting of four syllables, of which the third is a long
one.)
Revisited with joy. Love brought me thence, Who prompts my speech.
When in my Master's sight I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell."
She then was silent, and I thus began: "O Lady! by whose influence
alone, Mankind excels whatever is contain'd Within that heaven which
hath the smallest orb, So thy command delights me, that to obey, If it
were done already, would seem late. No need hast thou farther to speak
thy will; Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth To leave that
ample space, where to return Thou burnest, for this centre here
beneath." She then: "Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire, I will
instruct thee briefly, why no dread Hinders my entrance here. Those
things alone Are to be fear'd, whence evil may proceed, None else, for
none are terrible beside. I am so fram'd by God, thanks to his grace!
That any suff'rance of your misery Touches me not, nor flame of that
fierce fire Assails me. In high heaven a blessed dame Besides, who
mourns with such effectual grief That hindrance, which I send thee to
remove, That God's stern judgment to her will inclines. To Lucia
calling, her she thus bespake: "Now doth thy faithful servant need thy
aid And I commend him to thee." At her word Sped Lucia, of all
cruelty the foe, And coming to the place, where I abode Seated with
Rachel, her of ancient days, She thus address'd me: "Thou true praise
of God! Beatrice! why is not thy succour lent To him, who so much
lov'd thee, as to leave For thy sake all the multitude admires? Dost
thou not hear how pitiful his wail, Nor mark the death, which in the
torrent flood, Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?" Ne'er
among men did any with such speed Haste to their profit, flee from
their annoy, As when these words were spoken, I came here, Down from
my blessed seat, trusting the force Of thy pure eloquence, which thee,
and all Who well have mark'd it, into honour brings." "When she had
ended, her bright beaming eyes Tearful she turn'd aside; whereat I
felt Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she will'd, Thus am I come: I
sav'd thee from the beast, Who thy near way across the goodly mount
Prevented. What is this comes o'er thee then? Why, why dost thou hang
back? why in thy breast Harbour vile fear? why hast not courage
there And noble daring? Since three maids so blest Thy safety plan,
e'en in the court of heaven; And so much certain good my words
forebode." As florets, by the frosty air of night Bent down and
clos'd, when day has blanch'd their leaves, Rise all unfolded on their
spiry stems; So was my fainting vigour new restor'd, And to my heart
such kindly courage ran, That I as one undaunted soon replied: "O full
of pity she, who undertook My succour! and thou kind who didst
perform So soon her true behest! With such desire Thou hast dispos'd
me to renew my voyage, That my first purpose fully is resum'd. Lead
on: one only will is in us both. Thou art my guide, my master thou,
and lord." So spake I; and when he had onward mov'd, I enter'd on the
deep and woody way.
CANTO III
"THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into
eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the
founder of my fabric mov'd: To rear me was the task of power divine,
Supremest wisdom, and primeval love. Before me things create were
none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon ye
who enter here." Such characters in colour dim I mark'd Over a
portal's lofty arch inscrib'd: Whereat I thus: "Master, these words
import Hard meaning." He as one prepar'd replied: "Here thou must all
distrust behind thee leave; Here be vile fear extinguish'd. We are
come Where I have told thee we shall see the souls To misery doom'd,
who intellectual good Have lost." And when his hand he had stretch'd
forth To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer'd, Into that
secret place he led me on. Here sighs with lamentations and loud moans
Resounded through the air pierc'd by no star, That e'en I wept at
entering. Various tongues, Horrible languages, outcries of woe,
Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse, With hands together smote
that swell'd the sounds, Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls Round
through that air with solid darkness stain'd, Like to the sand that in
the whirlwind flies. I then, with error yet encompass'd, cried: "O
master! What is this I hear? What race Are these, who seem so
overcome with woe?" He thus to me: "This miserable fate Suffer the
wretched souls of those, who liv'd Without or praise or blame, with
that ill band Of angels mix'd, who nor rebellious prov'd Nor yet were
true to God, but for themselves Were only. From his bounds Heaven
drove them forth, Not to impair his lustre, nor the depth Of Hell
receives them, lest th' accursed tribe Should glory thence with
exultation vain." I then: "Master! what doth aggrieve them thus, That
they lament so loud?" He straight replied: "That will I tell thee
briefly. These of death No hope may entertain: and their blind life
So meanly passes, that all other lots They envy. Fame of them the
world hath none, Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both. Speak
not of them, but look, and pass them by." And I, who straightway
look'd, beheld a flag, Which whirling ran around so rapidly, That it
no pause obtain'd: and following came Such a long train of spirits, I
should ne'er Have thought, that death so many had despoil'd. When some
of these I recogniz'd, I saw And knew the shade of him, who to base
fear Yielding, abjur'd his high estate. Forthwith I understood for
certain this the tribe Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing
And to his foes. These wretches, who ne'er lived, Went on in
nakedness, and sorely stung By wasps and hornets, which bedew'd their
cheeks With blood, that mix'd with tears dropp'd to their feet, And by
disgustful worms was gather'd there. Then looking farther onwards I
beheld A throng upon the shore of a great stream: Whereat I thus:
"Sir! grant me now to know Whom here we view, and whence impell'd
they seem So eager to pass o'er, as I discern Through the blear
light?" He thus to me in few: "This shalt thou know, soon as our
steps arrive Beside the woeful tide of Acheron." Then with eyes
downward cast and fill'd with shame, Fearing my words offensive to his
ear, Till we had reach'd the river, I from speech Abstain'd. And lo!
toward us in a bark Comes on an old man hoary white with eld, Crying,
"Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not Ever to see the sky again. I
come To take you to the other shore across, Into eternal darkness,
there to dwell In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there
Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave These who are dead."
But soon as he beheld I left them not, "By other way," said he, "By
other haven shalt thou come to shore, Not by this passage; thee a
nimbler boat Must carry." Then to him thus spake my guide: "Charon!
thyself torment not: so 't is will'd, Where will and power are one:
ask thou no more." Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks Of
him the boatman o'er the livid lake, Around whose eyes glar'd wheeling
flames. Meanwhile Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang'd, And
gnash'd their teeth, soon as the cruel words They heard. God and
their parents they blasphem'd, The human kind, the place, the time,
and seed That did engender them and give them birth. Then all together
sorely wailing drew To the curs'd strand, that every man must pass Who
fears not God. Charon, demoniac form, With eyes of burning coal,
collects them all, Beck'ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar
Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves, One still another
following, till the bough Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;
E'en in like manner Adam's evil brood Cast themselves one by one down
from the shore, Each at a beck, as falcon at his call. Thus go they
over through the umber'd wave, And ever they on the opposing bank Be
landed, on this side another throng Still gathers. "Son," thus spake
the courteous guide, "Those, who die subject to the wrath of God, All
here together come from every clime, And to o'erpass the river are not
loth: For so heaven's justice goads them on, that fear Is turn'd into
desire. Hence ne'er hath past Good spirit. If of thee Charon
complain, Now mayst thou know the import of his words." This said, the
gloomy region trembling shook So terribly, that yet with clammy dews
Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast, That, lightening,
shot forth a vermilion flame, Which all my senses conquer'd quite, and
I Down dropp'd, as one with sudden slumber seiz'd.
CANTO IV
BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crash Of heavy thunder, that I
shook myself, As one by main force rous'd. Risen upright, My rested
eyes I mov'd around, and search'd With fixed ken to know what place it
was, Wherein I stood. For certain on the brink I found me of the
lamentable vale, The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous sound Of
plaints innumerable. Dark and deep, And thick with clouds o'erspread,
mine eye in vain Explor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern. "Now
let us to the blind world there beneath Descend;" the bard began all
pale of look: "I go the first, and thou shalt follow next." Then I his
alter'd hue perceiving, thus: "How may I speed, if thou yieldest to
dread, Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?" He then: "The
anguish of that race below With pity stains my cheek, which thou for
fear Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way Urges to haste."
Onward, this said, he mov'd; And ent'ring led me with him on the
bounds Of the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss. Here, as mine
ear could note, no plaint was heard Except of sighs, that made th'
eternal air Tremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from grief Felt by
those multitudes, many and vast, Of men, women, and infants. Then to
me The gentle guide: "Inquir'st thou not what spirits Are these,
which thou beholdest? Ere thou pass Farther, I would thou know, that
these of sin Were blameless; and if aught they merited, It profits
not, since baptism was not theirs, The portal to thy faith. If they
before The Gospel liv'd, they serv'd not God aright; And among such am
I. For these defects, And for no other evil, we are lost; Only so far
afflicted, that we live Desiring without hope." So grief assail'd My
heart at hearing this, for well I knew Suspended in that Limbo many a
soul Of mighty worth. "O tell me, sire rever'd! Tell me, my master!"
I began through wish Of full assurance in that holy faith, Which
vanquishes all error; "say, did e'er Any, or through his own or
other's merit, Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?"
Piercing the secret purport of my speech, He answer'd: "I was new to
that estate, When I beheld a puissant one arrive Amongst us, with
victorious trophy crown'd. He forth the shade of our first parent
drew, Abel his child, and Noah righteous man, Of Moses lawgiver for
faith approv'd, Of patriarch Abraham, and David king, Israel with his
sire and with his sons, Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won, And
others many more, whom he to bliss Exalted. Before these, be thou
assur'd, No spirit of human kind was ever sav'd." We, while he spake,
ceas'd not our onward road, Still passing through the wood; for so I
name Those spirits thick beset. We were not far On this side from the
summit, when I kenn'd A flame, that o'er the darken'd hemisphere
Prevailing shin'd. Yet we a little space Were distant, not so far but
I in part Discover'd, that a tribe in honour high That place
possess'd. "O thou, who every art And science valu'st! who are
these, that boast Such honour, separate from all the rest?" He
answer'd: "The renown of their great names That echoes through your
world above, acquires Favour in heaven, which holds them thus
advanc'd." Meantime a voice I heard: "Honour the bard Sublime! his
shade returns that left us late!" No sooner ceas'd the sound, than I
beheld Four mighty spirits toward us bend their steps, Of semblance
neither sorrowful nor glad. When thus my master kind began: "Mark him,
Who in his right hand bears that falchion keen, The other three
preceding, as their lord. This is that Homer, of all bards supreme:
Flaccus the next in satire's vein excelling; The third is Naso; Lucan
is the last. Because they all that appellation own, With which the
voice singly accosted me, Honouring they greet me thus, and well they
judge." So I beheld united the bright school Of him the monarch of
sublimest song, That o'er the others like an eagle soars. When they
together short discourse had held, They turn'd to me, with salutation
kind Beck'ning me; at the which my master smil'd: Nor was this all;
but greater honour still They gave me, for they made me of their
tribe; And I was sixth amid so learn'd a band. Far as the luminous
beacon on we pass'd Speaking of matters, then befitting well To speak,
now fitter left untold. At foot Of a magnificent castle we arriv'd,
Seven times with lofty walls begirt, and round Defended by a pleasant
stream. O'er this As o'er dry land we pass'd. Next through seven
gates I with those sages enter'd, and we came Into a mead with lively
verdure fresh. There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes around
Majestically mov'd, and in their port Bore eminent authority; they
spake Seldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet. We to one side
retir'd, into a place Open and bright and lofty, whence each one Stood
manifest to view. Incontinent There on the green enamel of the plain
Were shown me the great spirits, by whose sight I am exalted in my own
esteem. Electra there I saw accompanied By many, among whom Hector I
knew, Anchises' pious son, and with hawk's eye Caesar all arm'd, and
by Camilla there Penthesilea. On the other side Old King Latinus,
seated by his child Lavinia, and that Brutus I beheld, Who Tarquin
chas'd, Lucretia, Cato's wife Marcia, with Julia and Cornelia there;
And sole apart retir'd, the Soldan fierce. Then when a little more I
rais'd my brow, I spied the master of the sapient throng, Seated amid
the philosophic train. Him all admire, all pay him rev'rence due.
There Socrates and Plato both I mark'd, Nearest to him in rank;
Democritus, Who sets the world at chance, Diogenes, With Heraclitus,
and Empedocles, And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage, Zeno, and Dioscorides
well read In nature's secret lore. Orpheus I mark'd And Linus, Tully
and moral Seneca, Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates, Galenus, Avicen,
and him who made That commentary vast, Averroes. Of all to speak at
full were vain attempt; For my wide theme so urges, that ofttimes My
words fall short of what bechanc'd. In two The six associates part.
Another way My sage guide leads me, from that air serene, Into a
climate ever vex'd with storms: And to a part I come where no light
shines.
CANTO V
FROM the first circle I descended thus Down to the second, which, a
lesser space Embracing, so much more of grief contains Provoking
bitter moans. There, Minos stands Grinning with ghastly feature: he,
of all Who enter, strict examining the crimes, Gives sentence, and
dismisses them beneath, According as he foldeth him around: For when
before him comes th' ill fated soul, It all confesses; and that judge
severe Of sins, considering what place in hell Suits the
transgression, with his tail so oft Himself encircles, as degrees
beneath He dooms it to descend. Before him stand Always a num'rous
throng; and in his turn Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and
hears His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl'd. "O thou! who
to this residence of woe Approachest?" when he saw me coming, cried
Minos, relinquishing his dread employ, "Look how thou enter here;
beware in whom Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad
Deceive thee to thy harm." To him my guide: "Wherefore exclaimest?
Hinder not his way By destiny appointed; so 'tis will'd Where will
and power are one. Ask thou no more." Now 'gin the rueful wailings to
be heard. Now am I come where many a plaining voice Smites on mine
ear. Into a place I came Where light was silent all. Bellowing there
groan'd A noise as of a sea in tempest torn By warring winds. The
stormy blast of hell With restless fury drives the spirits on Whirl'd
round and dash'd amain with sore annoy. When they arrive before the
ruinous sweep, There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans, And
blasphemies 'gainst the good Power in heaven. I understood that to
this torment sad The carnal sinners are condemn'd, in whom Reason by
lust is sway'd. As in large troops And multitudinous, when winter
reigns, The starlings on their wings are borne abroad; So bears the
tyrannous gust those evil souls. On this side and on that, above,
below, It drives them: hope of rest to solace them Is none, nor e'en
of milder pang. As cranes, Chanting their dol'rous notes, traverse
the sky, Stretch'd out in long array: so I beheld Spirits, who came
loud wailing, hurried on By their dire doom. Then I: "Instructor!
who Are these, by the black air so scourg'd?"--" The first 'Mong
those, of whom thou question'st," he replied, "O'er many tongues was
empress. She in vice Of luxury was so shameless, that she made Liking
be lawful by promulg'd decree, To clear the blame she had herself
incurr'd. This is Semiramis, of whom 'tis writ, That she succeeded
Ninus her espous'd; And held the land, which now the Soldan rules. The
next in amorous fury slew herself, And to Sicheus' ashes broke her
faith: Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen." There mark'd I Helen,
for whose sake so long The time was fraught with evil; there the great
Achilles, who with love fought to the end. Paris I saw, and Tristan;
and beside A thousand more he show'd me, and by name Pointed them out,
whom love bereav'd of life. When I had heard my sage instructor name
Those dames and knights of antique days, o'erpower'd By pity,
well-nigh in amaze my mind Was lost; and I began: "Bard! willingly I
would address those two together coming, Which seem so light before
the wind." He thus: "Note thou, when nearer they to us approach. Then
by that love which carries them along, Entreat; and they will come."
Soon as the wind Sway'd them toward us, I thus fram'd my speech: "O
wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse With us, if by none else
restrain'd." As doves By fond desire invited, on wide wings And firm,
to their sweet nest returning home, Cleave the air, wafted by their
will along; Thus issu'd from that troop, where Dido ranks, They
through the ill air speeding; with such force My cry prevail'd by
strong affection urg'd. "O gracious creature and benign! who go'st
Visiting, through this element obscure, Us, who the world with bloody
stain imbru'd; If for a friend the King of all we own'd, Our pray'r to
him should for thy peace arise, Since thou hast pity on our evil
plight. ()f whatsoe'er to hear or to discourse It pleases thee, that
will we hear, of that Freely with thee discourse, while e'er the wind,
As now, is mute. The land, that gave me birth, Is situate on the
coast, where Po descends To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.
"Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt, Entangled him by that
fair form, from me Ta'en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:
Love, that denial takes from none belov'd, Caught me with pleasing him
so passing well, That, as thou see'st, he yet deserts me not. Love
brought us to one death: Caina waits The soul, who spilt our life."
Such were their words; At hearing which downward I bent my looks, And
held them there so long, that the bard cried: "What art thou
pond'ring?" I in answer thus: "Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what
fond desire Must they at length to that ill pass have reach'd!" Then
turning, I to them my speech address'd. And thus began: "Francesca!
your sad fate Even to tears my grief and pity moves. But tell me; in
the time of your sweet sighs, By what, and how love granted, that ye
knew Your yet uncertain wishes?" She replied: "No greater grief than
to remember days Of joy, when mis'ry is at hand! That kens Thy
learn'd instructor. Yet so eagerly If thou art bent to know the
primal root, From whence our love gat being, I will do, As one, who
weeps and tells his tale. One day For our delight we read of
Lancelot, How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no Suspicion near
us. Ofttimes by that reading Our eyes were drawn together, and the
hue Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point Alone we fell.
When of that smile we read, The wished smile, rapturously kiss'd By
one so deep in love, then he, who ne'er From me shall separate, at
once my lips All trembling kiss'd. The book and writer both Were
love's purveyors. In its leaves that day We read no more." While
thus one spirit spake, The other wail'd so sorely, that heartstruck I
through compassion fainting, seem'd not far From death, and like a
corpse fell to the ground.
CANTO VI
MY sense reviving, that erewhile had droop'd With pity for the kindred
shades, whence grief O'ercame me wholly, straight around I see New
torments, new tormented souls, which way Soe'er I move, or turn, or
bend my sight. In the third circle I arrive, of show'rs Ceaseless,
accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang'd For ever, both in kind and in
degree. Large hail, discolour'd water, sleety flaw Through the dun
midnight air stream'd down amain: Stank all the land whereon that
tempest fell. Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange, Through his
wide threefold throat barks as a dog Over the multitude immers'd
beneath. His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard, His belly
large, and claw'd the hands, with which He tears the spirits, flays
them, and their limbs Piecemeal disparts. Howling there spread, as
curs, Under the rainy deluge, with one side The other screening, oft
they roll them round, A wretched, godless crew. When that great worm
Descried us, savage Cerberus, he op'd His jaws, and the fangs show'd
us; not a limb Of him but trembled. Then my guide, his palms
Expanding on the ground, thence filled with earth Rais'd them, and
cast it in his ravenous maw. E'en as a dog, that yelling bays for food
His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall His fury, bent alone with
eager haste To swallow it; so dropp'd the loathsome cheeks Of demon
Cerberus, who thund'ring stuns The spirits, that they for deafness
wish in vain. We, o'er the shades thrown prostrate by the brunt Of the
heavy tempest passing, set our feet Upon their emptiness, that
substance seem'd. They all along the earth extended lay Save one, that
sudden rais'd himself to sit, Soon as that way he saw us pass. "O
thou!" He cried, "who through the infernal shades art led, Own, if
again thou know'st me. Thou wast fram'd Or ere my frame was broken."
I replied: "The anguish thou endur'st perchance so takes Thy form from
my remembrance, that it seems As if I saw thee never. But inform Me
who thou art, that in a place so sad Art set, and in such torment,
that although Other be greater, more disgustful none Can be imagin'd."
He in answer thus: "Thy city heap'd with envy to the brim, Ay that the
measure overflows its bounds, Held me in brighter days. Ye citizens
Were wont to name me Ciacco. For the sin Of glutt'ny, damned vice,
beneath this rain, E'en as thou see'st, I with fatigue am worn; Nor I
sole spirit in this woe: all these Have by like crime incurr'd like
punishment." No more he said, and I my speech resum'd: "Ciacco! thy
dire affliction grieves me much, Even to tears. But tell me, if thou
know'st, What shall at length befall the citizens Of the divided city;
whether any just one Inhabit there: and tell me of the cause, Whence
jarring discord hath assail'd it thus?" He then: "After long striving
they will come To blood; and the wild party from the woods Will chase
the other with much injury forth. Then it behoves, that this must
fall, within Three solar circles; and the other rise By borrow'd force
of one, who under shore Now rests. It shall a long space hold aloof
Its forehead, keeping under heavy weight The other oppress'd,
indignant at the load, And grieving sore. The just are two in number,
But they neglected. Av'rice, envy, pride, Three fatal sparks, have
set the hearts of all On fire." Here ceas'd the lamentable sound; And
I continu'd thus: "Still would I learn More from thee, farther parley
still entreat. Of Farinata and Tegghiaio say, They who so well
deserv'd, of Giacopo, Arrigo, Mosca, and the rest, who bent Their
minds on working good. Oh! tell me where They bide, and to their
knowledge let me come. For I am press'd with keen desire to hear, If
heaven's sweet cup or poisonous drug of hell Be to their lip
assign'd." He answer'd straight: "These are yet blacker spirits.
Various crimes Have sunk them deeper in the dark abyss. If thou so far
descendest, thou mayst see them. But to the pleasant world when thou
return'st, Of me make mention, I entreat thee, there. No more I tell
thee, answer thee no more." This said, his fixed eyes he turn'd
askance, A little ey'd me, then bent down his head, And 'midst his
blind companions with it fell. When thus my guide: "No more his bed
he leaves, Ere the last angel-trumpet blow. The Power Adverse to
these shall then in glory come, Each one forthwith to his sad tomb
repair, Resume his fleshly vesture and his form, And hear the eternal
doom re-echoing rend The vault." So pass'd we through that mixture
foul Of spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhile Touching, though
slightly, on the life to come. For thus I question'd: "Shall these
tortures, Sir! When the great sentence passes, be increas'd, Or
mitigated, or as now severe?" He then: "Consult thy knowledge; that
decides That as each thing to more perfection grows, It feels more
sensibly both good and pain. Though ne'er to true perfection may
arrive This race accurs'd, yet nearer then than now They shall
approach it." Compassing that path Circuitous we journeyed, and
discourse Much more than I relate between us pass'd: Till at the
point, where the steps led below, Arriv'd, there Plutus, the great
foe, we found.
CANTO VII
"AH me! O Satan! Satan!" loud exclaim'd Plutus, in accent hoarse of
wild alarm: And the kind sage, whom no event surpris'd, To comfort me
thus spake: "Let not thy fear Harm thee, for power in him, be sure,
is none To hinder down this rock thy safe descent." Then to that sworn
lip turning, " Peace!" he cried, "Curs'd wolf! thy fury inward on
thyself Prey, and consume thee! Through the dark profound Not without
cause he passes. So 't is will'd On high, there where the great
Archangel pour'd Heav'n's vengeance on the first adulterer proud." As
sails full spread and bellying with the wind Drop suddenly collaps'd,
if the mast split; So to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend. Thus
we, descending to the fourth steep ledge, Gain'd on the dismal shore,
that all the woe Hems in of all the universe. Ah me! Almighty
Justice! in what store thou heap'st New pains, new troubles, as I
here beheld! Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this? E'en as a
billow, on Charybdis rising, Against encounter'd billow dashing
breaks; Such is the dance this wretched race must lead, Whom more than
elsewhere numerous here I found, From one side and the other, with
loud voice, Both roll'd on weights by main forge of their breasts,
Then smote together, and each one forthwith Roll'd them back voluble,
turning again, Exclaiming these, "Why holdest thou so fast?" Those
answering, "And why castest thou away?" So still repeating their
despiteful song, They to the opposite point on either hand Travers'd
the horrid circle: then arriv'd, Both turn'd them round, and through
the middle space Conflicting met again. At sight whereof I, stung
with grief, thus spake: "O say, my guide! What race is this? Were
these, whose heads are shorn, On our left hand, all sep'rate to the
church?" He straight replied: "In their first life these all In mind
were so distorted, that they made, According to due measure, of their
wealth, No use. This clearly from their words collect, Which they
howl forth, at each extremity Arriving of the circle, where their
crime Contrary' in kind disparts them. To the church Were separate
those, that with no hairy cowls Are crown'd, both Popes and Cardinals,
o'er whom Av'rice dominion absolute maintains." I then: "Mid such as
these some needs must be, Whom I shall recognize, that with the blot
Of these foul sins were stain'd." He answering thus: "Vain thought
conceiv'st thou. That ignoble life, Which made them vile before, now
makes them dark, And to all knowledge indiscernible. Forever they
shall meet in this rude shock: These from the tomb with clenched grasp
shall rise, Those with close-shaven locks. That ill they gave, And
ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world Depriv'd, and set them at
this strife, which needs No labour'd phrase of mine to set if off. Now
may'st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain, The goods committed
into fortune's hands, For which the human race keep such a coil! Not
all the gold, that is beneath the moon, Or ever hath been, of these
toil-worn souls Might purchase rest for one." I thus rejoin'd: "My
guide! of thee this also would I learn; This fortune, that thou
speak'st of, what it is, Whose talons grasp the blessings of the
world?" He thus: "O beings blind! what ignorance Besets you? Now my
judgment hear and mark. He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all, The
heavens creating, gave them ruling powers To guide them, so that each
part shines to each, Their light in equal distribution pour'd. By
similar appointment he ordain'd Over the world's bright images to
rule. Superintendence of a guiding hand And general minister, which at
due time May change the empty vantages of life From race to race, from
one to other's blood, Beyond prevention of man's wisest care:
Wherefore one nation rises into sway, Another languishes, e'en as her
will Decrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grass The serpent train.
Against her nought avails Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight
plans, Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs The other powers
divine. Her changes know Nore intermission: by necessity She is made
swift, so frequent come who claim Succession in her favours. This is
she, So execrated e'en by those, whose debt To her is rather praise;
they wrongfully With blame requite her, and with evil word; But she is
blessed, and for that recks not: Amidst the other primal beings glad
Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults. Now on our way pass we,
to heavier woe Descending: for each star is falling now, That mounted
at our entrance, and forbids Too long our tarrying." We the circle
cross'd To the next steep, arriving at a well, That boiling pours
itself down to a foss Sluic'd from its source. Far murkier was the
wave Than sablest grain: and we in company Of the' inky waters,
journeying by their side, Enter'd, though by a different track,
beneath. Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expands The dismal stream,
when it hath reach'd the foot Of the grey wither'd cliffs. Intent I
stood To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried A miry tribe, all
naked, and with looks Betok'ning rage. They with their hands alone
Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet, Cutting each
other piecemeal with their fangs. The good instructor spake; "Now
seest thou, son! The souls of those, whom anger overcame. This too for
certain know, that underneath The water dwells a multitude, whose
sighs Into these bubbles make the surface heave, As thine eye tells
thee wheresoe'er it turn. Fix'd in the slime they say: "Sad once were
we In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun, Carrying a foul and lazy
mist within: Now in these murky settlings are we sad." Such dolorous
strain they gurgle in their throats. But word distinct can utter
none." Our route Thus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'd
Between the dry embankment, and the core Of the loath'd pool, turning
meanwhile our eyes Downward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees; Nor
stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.