The Divine Comedy

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.

Of 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 it 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

None 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.