Now bears us onward one of the hard margins,
\nAnd so the brooklet’s mist o’ershadows it,
\nFrom fire it saves the water and the dikes.<\/p>\n
Even as the Flemings, ‘twixt Cadsand and Bruges,
\nFearing the flood that tow’rds them hurls itself,
\nTheir bulwarks build to put the sea to flight;<\/p>\n
And as the Paduans along the Brenta,
\nTo guard their villas and their villages,
\nOr ever Chiarentana feel the heat;<\/p>\n
In such similitude had those been made,
\nAlbeit not so lofty nor so thick,
\nWhoever he might be, the master made them.<\/p>\n
Now were we from the forest so remote,
\nI could not have discovered where it was,
\nEven if backward I had turned myself,<\/p>\n
When we a company of souls encountered,
\nWho came beside the dike, and every one
\nGazed at us, as at evening we are wont<\/p>\n
To eye each other under a new moon,
\nAnd so towards us sharpened they their brows
\nAs an old tailor at the needle’s eye.<\/p>\n
Thus scrutinised by such a family,
\nBy some one I was recognised, who seized
\nMy garment’s hem, and cried out, “What a marvel!”<\/p>\n
And I, when he stretched forth his arm to me,
\nOn his baked aspect fastened so mine eyes,
\nThat the scorched countenance prevented not<\/p>\n
His recognition by my intellect;
\nAnd bowing down my face unto his own,
\nI made reply, “Are you here, Ser Brunetto?”<\/p>\n
And he: “May’t not displease thee, O my son,
\nIf a brief space with thee Brunetto Latini
\nBackward return and let the trail go on.”<\/p>\n
I said to him: “With all my power I ask it;
\nAnd if you wish me to sit down with you,
\nI will, if he please, for I go with him.”<\/p>\n
“O son,” he said, “whoever of this herd
\nA moment stops, lies then a hundred years,
\nNor fans himself when smiteth him the fire.<\/p>\n
Therefore go on; I at thy skirts will come,
\nAnd afterward will I rejoin my band,
\nWhich goes lamenting its eternal doom.”<\/p>\n
I did not dare to go down from the road
\nLevel to walk with him; but my head bowed
\nI held as one who goeth reverently.<\/p>\n
And he began: “What fortune or what fate
\nBefore the last day leadeth thee down here?
\nAnd who is this that showeth thee the way?”<\/p>\n
“Up there above us in the life serene,”
\nI answered him, “I lost me in a valley,
\nOr ever yet my age had been completed.<\/p>\n
But yestermorn I turned my back upon it;
\nThis one appeared to me, returning thither,
\nAnd homeward leadeth me along this road.”<\/p>\n
And he to me: “If thou thy star do follow,
\nThou canst not fail thee of a glorious port,
\nIf well I judged in the life beautiful.<\/p>\n
And if I had not died so prematurely,
\nSeeing Heaven thus benignant unto thee,
\nI would have given thee comfort in the work.<\/p>\n
But that ungrateful and malignant people,
\nWhich of old time from Fesole descended,
\nAnd smacks still of the mountain and the granite,<\/p>\n
Will make itself, for thy good deeds, thy foe;
\nAnd it is right; for among crabbed sorbs
\nIt ill befits the sweet fig to bear fruit.<\/p>\n
Old rumour in the world proclaims them blind;
\nA people avaricious, envious, proud;
\nTake heed that of their customs thou do cleanse thee.<\/p>\n
Thy fortune so much honour doth reserve thee,
\nOne party and the other shall be hungry
\nFor thee; but far from goat shall be the grass.<\/p>\n
Their litter let the beasts of Fesole
\nMake of themselves, nor let them touch the plant,
\nIf any still upon their dunghill rise,<\/p>\n
In which may yet revive the consecrated
\nSeed of those Romans, who remained there when
\nThe nest of such great malice it became.”<\/p>\n
“If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled,”
\nReplied I to him, “not yet would you be
\nIn banishment from human nature placed;<\/p>\n
For in my mind is fixed, and touches now
\nMy heart the dear and good paternal image
\nOf you, when in the world from hour to hour<\/p>\n
You taught me how a man becomes eternal;
\nAnd how much I am grateful, while I live
\nBehoves that in my language be discerned.<\/p>\n
What you narrate of my career I write,
\nAnd keep it to be glossed with other text
\nBy a Lady who can do it, if I reach her.<\/p>\n
This much will I have manifest to you;
\nProvided that my conscience do not chide me,
\nFor whatsoever Fortune I am ready.<\/p>\n
Such handsel is not new unto mine ears;
\nTherefore let Fortune turn her wheel around
\nAs it may please her, and the churl his mattock.”<\/p>\n
My Master thereupon on his right cheek
\nDid backward turn himself, and looked at me;
\nThen said: “He listeneth well who noteth it.”<\/p>\n
Nor speaking less on that account, I go
\nWith Ser Brunetto, and I ask who are
\nHis most known and most eminent companions.<\/p>\n
And he to me: “To know of some is well;
\nOf others it were laudable to be silent,
\nFor short would be the time for so much speech.<\/p>\n
Know them in sum, that all of them were clerks,
\nAnd men of letters great and of great fame,
\nIn the world tainted with the selfsame sin.<\/p>\n
Priscian goes yonder with that wretched crowd,
\nAnd Francis of Accorso; and thou hadst seen there
\nIf thou hadst had a hankering for such scurf,<\/p>\n
That one, who by the Servant of the Servants
\nFrom Arno was transferred to Bacchiglione,
\nWhere he has left his sin-excited nerves.<\/p>\n
More would I say, but coming and discoursing
\nCan be no longer; for that I behold
\nNew smoke uprising yonder from the sand.<\/p>\n
A people comes with whom I may not be;
\nCommended unto thee be my Tesoro,
\nIn which I still live, and no more I ask.”<\/p>\n
Then he turned round, and seemed to be of those
\nWho at Verona run for the Green Mantle
\nAcross the plain; and seemed to be among them<\/p>\n
The one who wins, and not the one who loses.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Now was I where was heard the reverberation
\nOf water falling into the next round,
\nLike to that humming which the beehives make,<\/p>\n
When shadows three together started forth,
\nRunning, from out a company that passed
\nBeneath the rain of the sharp martyrdom.<\/p>\n
Towards us came they, and each one cried out:
\n“Stop, thou; for by thy garb to us thou seemest
\nTo be some one of our depraved city.”<\/p>\n
Ah me! what wounds I saw upon their limbs,
\nRecent and ancient by the flames burnt in!
\nIt pains me still but to remember it.<\/p>\n
Unto their cries my Teacher paused attentive;
\nHe turned his face towards me, and “Now wait,”
\nHe said; “to these we should be courteous.<\/p>\n
And if it were not for the fire that darts
\nThe nature of this region, I should say
\nThat haste were more becoming thee than them.”<\/p>\n
As soon as we stood still, they recommenced
\nThe old refrain, and when they overtook us,
\nFormed of themselves a wheel, all three of them.<\/p>\n
As champions stripped and oiled are wont to do,
\nWatching for their advantage and their hold,
\nBefore they come to blows and thrusts between them,<\/p>\n
Thus, wheeling round, did every one his visage
\nDirect to me, so that in opposite wise
\nHis neck and feet continual journey made.<\/p>\n
And, “If the misery of this soft place
\nBring in disdain ourselves and our entreaties,”
\nBegan one, “and our aspect black and blistered,<\/p>\n
Let the renown of us thy mind incline
\nTo tell us who thou art, who thus securely
\nThy living feet dost move along through Hell.<\/p>\n
He in whose footprints thou dost see me treading,
\nNaked and skinless though he now may go,
\nWas of a greater rank than thou dost think;<\/p>\n
He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
\nHis name was Guidoguerra, and in life
\nMuch did he with his wisdom and his sword.<\/p>\n
The other, who close by me treads the sand,
\nTegghiaio Aldobrandi is, whose fame
\nAbove there in the world should welcome be.<\/p>\n
And I, who with them on the cross am placed,
\nJacopo Rusticucci was; and truly
\nMy savage wife, more than aught else, doth harm me.”<\/p>\n
Could I have been protected from the fire,
\nBelow I should have thrown myself among them,
\nAnd think the Teacher would have suffered it;<\/p>\n
But as I should have burned and baked myself,
\nMy terror overmastered my good will,
\nWhich made me greedy of embracing them.<\/p>\n
Then I began: “Sorrow and not disdain
\nDid your condition fix within me so,
\nThat tardily it wholly is stripped off,<\/p>\n
As soon as this my Lord said unto me
\nWords, on account of which I thought within me
\nThat people such as you are were approaching.<\/p>\n
I of your city am; and evermore
\nYour labours and your honourable names
\nI with affection have retraced and heard.<\/p>\n
I leave the gall, and go for the sweet fruits
\nPromised to me by the veracious Leader;
\nBut to the centre first I needs must plunge.”<\/p>\n
“So may the soul for a long while conduct
\nThose limbs of thine,” did he make answer then,
\n“And so may thy renown shine after thee,<\/p>\n
Valour and courtesy, say if they dwell
\nWithin our city, as they used to do,
\nOr if they wholly have gone out of it;<\/p>\n
For Guglielmo Borsier, who is in torment
\nWith us of late, and goes there with his comrades,
\nDoth greatly mortify us with his words.”<\/p>\n
“The new inhabitants and the sudden gains,
\nPride and extravagance have in thee engendered,
\nFlorence, so that thou weep’st thereat already!”<\/p>\n
In this wise I exclaimed with face uplifted;
\nAnd the three, taking that for my reply,
\nLooked at each other, as one looks at truth.<\/p>\n
“If other times so little it doth cost thee,”
\nReplied they all, “to satisfy another,
\nHappy art thou, thus speaking at thy will!<\/p>\n
Therefore, if thou escape from these dark places,
\nAnd come to rebehold the beauteous stars,
\nWhen it shall pleasure thee to say, ‘I was,’<\/p>\n
See that thou speak of us unto the people.”
\nThen they broke up the wheel, and in their flight
\nIt seemed as if their agile legs were wings.<\/p>\n
Not an Amen could possibly be said
\nSo rapidly as they had disappeared;
\nWherefore the Master deemed best to depart.<\/p>\n
I followed him, and little had we gone,
\nBefore the sound of water was so near us,
\nThat speaking we should hardly have been heard.<\/p>\n
Even as that stream which holdeth its own course
\nThe first from Monte Veso tow’rds the East,
\nUpon the left-hand slope of Apennine,<\/p>\n
Which is above called Acquacheta, ere
\nIt down descendeth into its low bed,
\nAnd at Forli is vacant of that name,<\/p>\n
Reverberates there above San Benedetto
\nFrom Alps, by falling at a single leap,
\nWhere for a thousand there were room enough;<\/p>\n
Thus downward from a bank precipitate,
\nWe found resounding that dark-tinted water,
\nSo that it soon the ear would have offended.<\/p>\n
I had a cord around about me girt,
\nAnd therewithal I whilom had designed
\nTo take the leopard with the painted skin.<\/p>\n
After I this had all from me unloosed,
\nAs my Conductor had commanded me,
\nI reached it to him, gathered up and coiled,<\/p>\n
Whereat he turned himself to the right side,
\nAnd at a little distance from the verge,
\nHe cast it down into that deep abyss.<\/p>\n
“It must needs be some novelty respond,”
\nI said within myself, “to the new signal
\nThe Master with his eye is following so.”<\/p>\n
Ah me! how very cautious men should be
\nWith those who not alone behold the act,
\nBut with their wisdom look into the thoughts!<\/p>\n
He said to me: “Soon there will upward come
\nWhat I await; and what thy thought is dreaming
\nMust soon reveal itself unto thy sight.”<\/p>\n
Aye to that truth which has the face of falsehood,
\nA man should close his lips as far as may be,
\nBecause without his fault it causes shame;<\/p>\n
But here I cannot; and, Reader, by the notes
\nOf this my Comedy to thee I swear,
\nSo may they not be void of lasting favour,<\/p>\n
Athwart that dense and darksome atmosphere
\nI saw a figure swimming upward come,
\nMarvellous unto every steadfast heart,<\/p>\n
Even as he returns who goeth down
\nSometimes to clear an anchor, which has grappled
\nReef, or aught else that in the sea is hidden,<\/p>\n
Who upward stretches, and draws in his feet.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Behold the monster with the pointed tail,
\nWho cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons,
\nBehold him who infecteth all the world.”<\/p>\n
Thus unto me my Guide began to say,
\nAnd beckoned him that he should come to shore,
\nNear to the confine of the trodden marble;<\/p>\n
And that uncleanly image of deceit
\nCame up and thrust ashore its head and bust,
\nBut on the border did not drag its tail.<\/p>\n
The face was as the face of a just man,
\nIts semblance outwardly was so benign,
\nAnd of a serpent all the trunk beside.<\/p>\n
Two paws it had, hairy unto the armpits;
\nThe back, and breast, and both the sides it had
\nDepicted o’er with nooses and with shields.<\/p>\n
With colours more, groundwork or broidery
\nNever in cloth did Tartars make nor Turks,
\nNor were such tissues by Arachne laid.<\/p>\n
As sometimes wherries lie upon the shore,
\nThat part are in the water, part on land;
\nAnd as among the guzzling Germans there,<\/p>\n
The beaver plants himself to wage his war;
\nSo that vile monster lay upon the border,
\nWhich is of stone, and shutteth in the sand.<\/p>\n
His tail was wholly quivering in the void,
\nContorting upwards the envenomed fork,
\nThat in the guise of scorpion armed its point.<\/p>\n
The Guide said: “Now perforce must turn aside
\nOur way a little, even to that beast
\nMalevolent, that yonder coucheth him.”<\/p>\n
We therefore on the right side descended,
\nAnd made ten steps upon the outer verge,
\nCompletely to avoid the sand and flame;<\/p>\n
And after we are come to him, I see
\nA little farther off upon the sand
\nA people sitting near the hollow place.<\/p>\n
Then said to me the Master: “So that full
\nExperience of this round thou bear away,
\nNow go and see what their condition is.<\/p>\n
There let thy conversation be concise;
\nTill thou returnest I will speak with him,
\nThat he concede to us his stalwart shoulders.”<\/p>\n
Thus farther still upon the outermost
\nHead of that seventh circle all alone
\nI went, where sat the melancholy folk.<\/p>\n
Out of their eyes was gushing forth their woe;
\nThis way, that way, they helped them with their hands
\nNow from the flames and now from the hot soil.<\/p>\n
Not otherwise in summer do the dogs,
\nNow with the foot, now with the muzzle, when
\nBy fleas, or flies, or gadflies, they are bitten.<\/p>\n
When I had turned mine eyes upon the faces
\nOf some, on whom the dolorous fire is falling,
\nNot one of them I knew; but I perceived<\/p>\n
That from the neck of each there hung a pouch,
\nWhich certain colour had, and certain blazon;
\nAnd thereupon it seems their eyes are feeding.<\/p>\n
And as I gazing round me come among them,
\nUpon a yellow pouch I azure saw
\nThat had the face and posture of a lion.<\/p>\n
Proceeding then the current of my sight,
\nAnother of them saw I, red as blood,
\nDisplay a goose more white than butter is.<\/p>\n
And one, who with an azure sow and gravid
\nEmblazoned had his little pouch of white,
\nSaid unto me: “What dost thou in this moat?<\/p>\n
Now get thee gone; and since thou’rt still alive,
\nKnow that a neighbour of mine, Vitaliano,
\nWill have his seat here on my left-hand side.<\/p>\n
A Paduan am I with these Florentines;
\nFull many a time they thunder in mine ears,
\nExclaiming, ‘Come the sovereign cavalier,<\/p>\n
He who shall bring the satchel with three goats;'”
\nThen twisted he his mouth, and forth he thrust
\nHis tongue, like to an ox that licks its nose.<\/p>\n
And fearing lest my longer stay might vex
\nHim who had warned me not to tarry long,
\nBackward I turned me from those weary souls.<\/p>\n
I found my Guide, who had already mounted
\nUpon the back of that wild animal,
\nAnd said to me: “Now be both strong and bold.<\/p>\n
Now we descend by stairways such as these;
\nMount thou in front, for I will be midway,
\nSo that the tail may have no power to harm thee.”<\/p>\n
Such as he is who has so near the ague
\nOf quartan that his nails are blue already,
\nAnd trembles all, but looking at the shade;<\/p>\n
Even such became I at those proffered words;
\nBut shame in me his menaces produced,
\nWhich maketh servant strong before good master.<\/p>\n
I seated me upon those monstrous shoulders;
\nI wished to say, and yet the voice came not
\nAs I believed, “Take heed that thou embrace me.”<\/p>\n
But he, who other times had rescued me
\nIn other peril, soon as I had mounted,
\nWithin his arms encircled and sustained me,<\/p>\n
And said: “Now, Geryon, bestir thyself;
\nThe circles large, and the descent be little;
\nThink of the novel burden which thou hast.”<\/p>\n
Even as the little vessel shoves from shore,
\nBackward, still backward, so he thence withdrew;
\nAnd when he wholly felt himself afloat,<\/p>\n
There where his breast had been he turned his tail,
\nAnd that extended like an eel he moved,
\nAnd with his paws drew to himself the air.<\/p>\n
A greater fear I do not think there was
\nWhat time abandoned Phaeton the reins,
\nWhereby the heavens, as still appears, were scorched;<\/p>\n
Nor when the wretched Icarus his flanks
\nFelt stripped of feathers by the melting wax,
\nHis father crying, “An ill way thou takest!”<\/p>\n
Than was my own, when I perceived myself
\nOn all sides in the air, and saw extinguished
\nThe sight of everything but of the monster.<\/p>\n
Onward he goeth, swimming slowly, slowly;
\nWheels and descends, but I perceive it only
\nBy wind upon my face and from below.<\/p>\n
I heard already on the right the whirlpool
\nMaking a horrible crashing under us;
\nWhence I thrust out my head with eyes cast downward.<\/p>\n
Then was I still more fearful of the abyss;
\nBecause I fires beheld, and heard laments,
\nWhereat I, trembling, all the closer cling.<\/p>\n
I saw then, for before I had not seen it,
\nThe turning and descending, by great horrors
\nThat were approaching upon divers sides.<\/p>\n
As falcon who has long been on the wing,
\nWho, without seeing either lure or bird,
\nMaketh the falconer say, “Ah me, thou stoopest,”<\/p>\n
Descendeth weary, whence he started swiftly,
\nThorough a hundred circles, and alights
\nFar from his master, sullen and disdainful;<\/p>\n
Even thus did Geryon place us on the bottom,
\nClose to the bases of the rough-hewn rock,
\nAnd being disencumbered of our persons,<\/p>\n
He sped away as arrow from the string.<\/p>\n\n\t\t\t Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t