The Divine Comedy

CANTO XV

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

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 top; such were the mounds,

So fram'd, though not in height or bulk to these

Made equal, by the master, whosoe'er

He was, that rais'd them here. We from the wood

Were not so far remov'd, that turning round

I might not have discern'd it, when we met

A troop of spirits, who came beside the pier.

They each one ey'd 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.

Thus narrowly explor'd by all the tribe,

I was agniz'd 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,

That although smirch'd with fire, they hinder'd not

But I remember'd him; and towards his face

My hand inclining, answer'd: "Sir! Brunetto!

"And art thou here?" He thus to me: "My son!

Oh let it not displease thee, if Brunetto

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;

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

Smites sorest. Pass thou therefore on. I close

Will at thy garments walk, and then rejoin

My troop, who go mourning their endless doom."

I dar'd 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.

"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,

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,

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 chanc'd,

Seeing the heav'ns thus bounteous to thee, I

Had gladly giv'n thee comfort in thy work.

But that ungrateful and malignant race,

Who in old times came down from Fesole,

Ay and still smack of their rough mountain-flint,

Will for thy good deeds shew thee enmity.

Nor wonder; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs

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 honour in reserve,

That thou by either party shalt be crav'd

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,

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

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;

And how I priz'd the lesson, it behooves,

That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak,

What of my fate thou tell'st, that write I down:

And with another text to comment on

For her I keep it, the celestial dame,

Who will know all, if I to her arrive.

This only would I have thee clearly note:

That so my conscience have no plea against me;

Do fortune as she list, I stand prepar'd.

Not new or strange such earnest to mine ear.

Speed fortune then her wheel, as likes her best,

The clown his mattock; all things have their course."

Thereat my sapient guide upon his right

Turn'd himself back, then look'd at me and spake:

"He listens to good purpose who takes note."

I not the less still on my way proceed,

Discoursing with Brunetto, and inquire

Who are most known and chief among his tribe.

"To know of some is well;" thus he replied,

"But of the rest silence may best beseem.

Time would not serve us for report so long.

In brief I tell thee, that all these were clerks,

Men of great learning and no less renown,

By one same sin polluted in the world.

With them is Priscian, and Accorso's son

Francesco herds among that wretched throng:

And, if the wish of so impure a blotch

Possess'd thee, him thou also might'st have seen,

Who by the servants' servant was transferr'd

From Arno's seat to Bacchiglione, where

His ill-strain'd nerves he left. I more would add,

But must from farther 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,

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 champain try their speed

For the green mantle, and of them he seem'd,

Not he who loses but who gains the prize.

CANTO XVI

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 issu'd from a troop,

That pass'd beneath the fierce tormenting storm,

Three spirits, running swift. They towards 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,

Recent and old, inflicted by the flames!

E'en the remembrance of them grieves me yet.

Attentive to their cry my teacher paus'd,

And turn'd to me his visage, and then spake;

"Wait now! our courtesy these merit well:

And were 't not for the nature of the place,

Whence glide the fiery darts, I should have said,

That haste had better suited thee than them."

They, when we stopp'd, resum'd their ancient wail,

And soon as they had reach'd us, all the three

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

At me directed, so that opposite

The neck mov'd ever to the twinkling feet.

"If misery of this drear wilderness,"

Thus one began, "added to our sad cheer

And destitute, do call forth scorn on us

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 see'st

My steps pursuing, naked though he be

And reft of all, was of more high estate

Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste

Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call'd,

Who in his lifetime many a noble act

Achiev'd, both by his wisdom and his sword.

The other, next to me that beats the sand,

Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well,

In the upper world, of honour; and myself

Who in this torment do partake with them,

Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife

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

Of the dire burning vanquish'd the desire,

Which made me eager of their wish'd embrace.

I then began: "Not scorn, but grief much more,

Such as long time alone can cure, your doom

Fix'd deep within me, soon as this my lord

Spake words, whose tenour 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

For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide

Hath promis'd to me. But behooves, 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 valour, as they wont,

Dwell in our city, or have vanish'd clean?

For one amidst us late condemn'd to wail,

Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers,

Grieves us no little by the news he brings."

"An upstart multitude and sudden gains,

Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee

Engender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st!"

Thus cried I with my face uprais'd, and they

All three, who for an answer took my words,

Look'd at each other, as men look when truth

Comes to their ear. "If thou at other times,"

They all at once rejoin'd, "so easily

Satisfy those, who question, happy thou,

Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought!

Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime,

Returning to behold the radiant stars,

When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past,

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.

Not in so short a time might one have said

"Amen," as they had vanish'd. Straight my guide

Pursu'd his track. I follow'd; and small space

Had we pass'd onward, when the water's sound

Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce

Heard one another's speech for the loud din.

E'en as the river, that holds on its course

Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo,

On the left side of Apennine, toward

The east, which Acquacheta higher up

They call, ere it descend into the vale,

At Forli by that name no longer known,

Rebellows o'er Saint Benedict, roll'd on

From the Alpine summit down a precipice,

Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads;

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 that brac'd my girdle round,

Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take

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

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,

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,

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 favour find to latest times!

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,

Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies,

Who upward springing close draws in his feet.

CANTO XVII

"LO! the fell monster 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,

Near to the stony causeway's utmost edge.

Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear'd,

His head and upper part expos'd on land,

But laid not on the shore his bestial train.

His face the semblance of a just man's wore,

So kind and gracious was its outward cheer;

The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws

Reach'd to the armpits, and the back and breast,

And either side, were painted o'er with nodes

And orbits. Colours variegated more

Nor Turks nor Tartars e'er on cloth of state

With interchangeable embroidery wove,

Nor spread Arachne o'er her curious loom.

As ofttimes a light skiff, moor'd to the shore,

Stands part in water, part upon the land;

Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor,

The beaver settles watching for his prey;

So on the rim, that fenc'd the sand with rock,

Sat perch'd the fiend of evil. In the void

Glancing, his tail upturn'd its venomous fork,

With sting like scorpion's arm'd. Then thus my guide:

"Now need our way must turn few steps apart,

Far as to that ill beast, who couches there."

Thereat toward the right our downward course

We shap'd, and, better to escape the flame

And burning marle, ten paces on the verge

Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive,

A little further on mine eye beholds

A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand

Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake:

"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

The aid of his strong shoulders." Thus alone

Yet forward on the extremity I pac'd

Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe

Were seated. At the eyes forth gush'd their pangs.

Against the vapours and the torrid soil

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

Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire,

One of them all I knew not; but perceiv'd,

That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch

With colours and with emblems various mark'd,

On which it seem'd as if their eye did feed.

And when amongst them looking round I came,

A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought,

That wore a lion's countenance and port.

Then still my sight pursuing its career,

Another I beheld, than blood more red.

A goose display of whiter wing than curd.

And one, who bore a fat and azure swine

Pictur'd on his white scrip, addressed me thus:

"What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know,

Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here

Vitaliano on my left shall sit.

A Paduan with these Florentines am I.

Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming

'O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch

With the three beaks will bring!'" This said, he writh'd

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

Of the fierce animal I found; and thus

He me encourag'd. "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."

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 interpos'd her threat, who makes

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 prov'd,

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 th' unusual burden thou sustain'st."

As a small vessel, back'ning out from land,

Her station quits; so thence the monster loos'd,

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,

Gath'ring 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 perceiv'd,

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

Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels

His downward motion, unobserv'd 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

With hideous crash; whence bending down to' explore,

New terror I conceiv'd 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, unperceiv'd before,

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 bird hath seen, while in despair

The falconer cries, "Ah me! thou stoop'st to earth!"

Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky

In many an orbit wheels, then 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,

And, of his burden there discharg'd, forthwith

Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.

CANTO XVIII

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

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 trenches, in its hollow bottom sunk.

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,

Are flank'd with bridges; from the rock's low base

Thus flinty paths advanc'd, that 'cross the moles

And dikes, struck onward far as to the gulf,

That in one bound collected cuts them off.

Such was the place, wherein we found ourselves

From Geryon's back dislodg'd. The bard to left

Held on his way, and I behind him mov'd.

On our right hand new misery I saw,

New pains, new executioners of wrath,

That swarming peopled the first chasm. Below

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, when the year returns

Of Jubilee, with better speed to rid

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 th' other towards the mount.

Each divers way along the grisly rock,

Horn'd demons I beheld, with lashes huge,

That on their back unmercifully smote.

Ah! how they made them bound at the first stripe!

None for the second waited nor the third.

Meantime as on I pass'd, one met my sight

Whom soon as view'd; "Of him," cried I, "not yet

Mine eye hath had his fill." With fixed gaze

I therefore scann'd him. Straight the teacher kind

Paus'd with me, and consented I should walk

Backward a space, and the tormented spirit,

Who thought to hide him, bent his visage down.

But it avail'd him nought; for I exclaim'd:

"Thou who dost cast thy eye upon the ground,

Unless thy features do belie thee much,

Venedico art thou. But what brings thee

Into this bitter seas'ning?" 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 'twas I who led fair Ghisola

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'erthrong'd

That not so many tongues this day are taught,

Betwixt the Reno and Savena's stream,

To answer SIPA in their country's phrase.

And if of that securer proof thou need,

Remember but our craving thirst for gold."

Him speaking thus, a demon with his thong

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

Upon its splinter turning, we depart

From those eternal barriers. When arriv'd,

Where underneath the gaping arch lets pass

The scourged souls: "Pause here," the teacher said,

"And let these others miserable, now

Strike on thy ken, faces not yet beheld,

For that together they with us have walk'd."

From the old bridge we ey'd the pack, who came

From th' other side towards us, like the rest,

Excoriate from the lash. My gentle guide,

By me unquestion'd, thus his speech resum'd:

"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

The ram from Colchos. 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 beguil'd, a virgin young,

Who first had all the rest herself beguil'd.

Impregnated he left her there forlorn.

Such is the guilt condemns him to this pain.

Here too Medea's inj'ries are avenged.

All bear him company, who like deceit

To his have practis'd. 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 straighten'd path

Bestrides its shoulders to another arch.

Hence in the second chasm we heard the ghosts,

Who jibber 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 condens'd, encrusting hung,

That held sharp combat with the sight and smell.

So hollow is the depth, that from no part,

Save on the summit of the rocky span,

Could I distinguish aught. Thus far we came;

And thence I saw, within the foss below,

A crowd immers'd in ordure, that appear'd

Draff of the human body. There beneath

Searching with eye inquisitive, I mark'd

One with his head so grim'd, 't were hard to deem,

If he were clerk or layman. Loud he cried:

"Why greedily thus bendest more on me,

Than on these other filthy ones, thy ken?"

"Because if true my mem'ry," I re