Inferno (English) by Dante Alighieri

CANTO I

ONE night, when half my life behind me lay, 

I wandered from the straight lost path afar. 

Through the great dark was no releasing way; 

Above that dark was no relieving star. 

If yet that terrored night I think or say, 

As death's cold hands its fears resuming are. 

Gladly the dreads I felt, too dire to tell, 

The hopeless, pathless, lightless hours forgot, 

I turn my tale to that which next befell, 

When the dawn opened, and the night was not. 

The hollowed blackness of that waste, God wot, 

Shrank, thinned, and ceased. A blinding splendour hot 

Flushed the great height toward which my footsteps fell, 

And though it kindled from the nether hell, 

Or from the Star that all men leads, alike 

It showed me where the great dawn-glories strike 

The wide east, and the utmost peaks of snow. 

How first I entered on that path astray, 

Beset with sleep, I know not. This I know. 

When gained my feet the upward, lighted way, 

I backward gazed, as one the drowning sea, 

The deep strong tides, has baffled, and panting lies, 

On the shelved shore, and turns his eyes to see 

The league-wide wastes that held him. So mine eyes 

Surveyed that fear, the while my wearied frame 

Rested, and ever my heart's tossed lake became 

More quiet. 

Then from that pass released, which yet 

With living feet had no man left, I set 

My forward steps aslant the steep, that so, 

My right foot still the lower, I climbed. 

Below 

No more I gazed. Around, a slope of sand 

Was sterile of all growth on either hand, 

Or moving life, a spotted pard except, 

That yawning rose, and stretched, and purred and leapt 

So closely round my feet, that scarce I kept 

The course I would. 

That sleek and lovely thing, 

The broadening light, the breath of morn and spring, 

The sun, that with his stars in Aries lay, 

As when Divine Love on Creation's day 

First gave these fair things motion, all at one 

Made lightsome hope; but lightsome hope was none 

When down the slope there came with lifted head 

And back-blown mane and caverned mouth and red, 

A lion, roaring, all the air ashake 

That heard his hunger. Upward flight to take 

No heart was mine, for where the further way 

Mine anxious eyes explored, a she-wolf lay, 

That licked lean flanks, and waited. Such was she 

In aspect ruthless that I quaked to see, 

And where she lay among her bones had brought 

So many to grief before, that all my thought 

Aghast turned backward to the sunless night 

I left. But while I plunged in headlong flight 

To that most feared before, a shade, or man 

(Either he seemed), obstructing where I ran, 

Called to me with a voice that few should know, 

Faint from forgetful silence, "Where ye go, 

Take heed. Why turn ye from the upward way?" 

I cried, "Or come ye from warm earth, or they 

The grave hath taken, in my mortal need 

Have mercy thou!" 

He answered, "Shade am I, 

That once was man; beneath the Lombard sky, 

In the late years of Julius born, and bred 

In Mantua, till my youthful steps were led 

To Rome, where yet the false gods lied to man; 

And when the great Augustan age began, 

I wrote the tale of Ilium burnt, and how 

Anchises' son forth-pushed a venturous prow, 

Seeking unknown seas. But in what mood art thou 

To thus return to all the ills ye fled, 

The while the mountain of thy hope ahead 

Lifts into light, the source and cause of all 

Delectable things that may to man befall?" 

I answered, "Art thou then that Virgil, he 

From whom all grace of measured speech in me 

Derived? O glorious and far-guiding star! 

Now may the love-led studious hours and long 

In which I learnt how rich thy wonders are, 

Master and Author mine of Light and Song, 

Befriend me now, who knew thy voice, that few 

Yet hearken. All the name my work hath won 

Is thine of right, from whom I learned. To thee, 

Abashed, I grant it. . . Why the mounting sun 

No more I seek, ye scarce should ask, who see 

The beast that turned me, nor faint hope have I 

To force that passage if thine aid deny." 

He answered, "Would ye leave this wild and live, 

Strange road is ours, for where the she-wolf lies 

Shall no man pass, except the path he tries 

Her craft entangle. No way fugitive 

Avoids the seeking of her greeds, that give 

Insatiate hunger, and such vice perverse 

As makes her leaner while she feeds, and worse 

Her craving. And the beasts with which she breed 

The noisome numerous beasts her lusts require, 

Bare all the desirable lands in which she feeds; 

Nor shall lewd feasts and lewder matings tire 

Until she woos, in evil hour for her, 

The wolfhound that shall rend her. His desire 

Is not for rapine, as the promptings stir 

Of her base heart; but wisdoms, and devoirs 

Of manhood, and love's rule, his thoughts prefer. 

The Italian lowlands he shall reach and save, 

For which Camilla of old, the virgin brave, 

Turnus and Nisus died in strife. His chase 

He shall not cease, nor any cowering-place 

Her fear shall find her, till he drive her back, 

From city to city exiled, from wrack to wrack 

Slain out of life, to find the native hell 

Whence envy loosed her. 

For thyself were

well 

To follow where I lead, and thou shalt see 

The spirits in pain, and hear the hopeless woe, 

The unending cries, of those whose only plea 

Is judgment, that the second death to be 

Fall quickly. Further shalt thou climb, and go 

To those who burn, but in their pain content 

With hope of pardon; still beyond, more high, 

Holier than opens to such souls as I, 

The Heavens uprear; but if thou wilt, is one 

Worthier, and she shall guide thee there, where none 

Who did the Lord of those fair realms deny 

May enter. There in his city He dwells, and there 

Rules and pervades in every part, and calls 

His chosen ever within the sacred walls. 

O happiest, they!" 

I answered, "By that Go 

Thou didst not know, I do thine aid entreat, 

And guidance, that beyond the ills I meet 

I safety find, within the Sacred Gate 

That Peter guards, and those sad souls to see 

Who look with longing for their end to be." 

Then he moved forward, and behind I trod. 

Canto II

THE day was falling, and the darkening air 

Released earth's creatures from their toils, while I, 

I only, faced the bitter road and bare 

My Master led. I only, must defy 

The powers of pity, and the night to be. 

So thought I, but the things I came to see, 

Which memory holds, could never thought forecast. 

O Muses high! O Genius, first and last! 

Memories intense! Your utmost powers combine 

To meet this need. For never theme as mine 

Strained vainly, where your loftiest nobleness 

Must fail to be sufficient. 

First

I said, 

Fearing, to him who through the darkness led, 

"O poet, ere the arduous path ye press 

Too far, look in me, if the worth there be 

To make this transit. &Aelig;neas once, I know, 

Went down in life, and crossed the infernal sea; 

And if the Lord of All Things Lost Below 

Allowed it, reason seems, to those who see 

The enduring greatness of his destiny, 

Who in the Empyrean Heaven elect was called 

Sire of the Eternal City, that throned and walled 

Made Empire of the world beyond, to be 

The Holy Place at last, by God's decree, 

Where the great Peter's follower rules. For he 

Learned there the causes of his victory. 

"And later to the third great Heaven was caught 

The last Apostle, and thence returning brought 

The proofs of our salvation. But, for me, 

I am not &Aelig;neas, nay, nor Paul, to see 

Unspeakable things that depths or heights can show, 

And if this road for no sure end I go 

What folly is mine? But any words are weak. 

Thy wisdom further than the things I speak 

Can search the event that would be." 

Here I

stayed 

My steps amid the darkness, and the Shade 

That led me heard and turned, magnanimous, 

And saw me drained of purpose halting thus, 

And answered, "If thy coward-born thoughts be clear, 

And all thy once intent, infirmed of fear, 

Broken, then art thou as scared beasts that shy 

From shadows, surely that they know not why 

Nor wherefore. . . Hearken, to confound thy fear, 

The things which first I heard, and brought me here. 

One came where, in the Outer Place, I dwell, 

Suspense from hope of Heaven or fear of Hell, 

Radiant in light that native round her clung, 

And cast her eyes our hopeless Shades among 

(Eyes with no earthly like but heaven's own blue), 

And called me to her in such voice as few 

In that grim place had heard, so low, so clear, 

So toned and cadenced from the Utmost Sphere, 

The Unattainable Heaven from which she came. 

'O Mantuan Spirit,' she said, 'whose lasting fame 

Continues on the earth ye left, and still 

With Time shall stand, an earthly friend to me, 

- My friend, not fortune's - climbs a path so ill 

That all the night-bred fears he hastes to flee 

Were kindly to the thing he nears. The tale 

Moved through the peace of I leaven, and swift I sped 

Downward, to aid my friend in love's avail, 

With scanty time therefor, that half I dread 

Too late I came. But thou shalt haste, and go 

With golden wisdom of thy speech, that so 

For me be consolation. Thou shalt say, 

"I come from Beatricл." Downward far, 

From Heaven to I leaven I sank, from star to star, 

To find thee, and to point his rescuing way. 

Fain would I to my place of light return; 

Love moved me from it, and gave me power to learn 

Thy speech. When next before my Lord I stand 

I very oft shall praise thee.' 

Here

she ceased, 

And I gave answer to that dear command, 

'Lady, alone through whom the whole race of those 

The smallest Heaven the moon's short orbits hold 

Excels in its creation, not thy least, 

Thy lightest wish in this dark realm were told 

Vainly. But show me why the Heavens unclose 

To loose thee from them, and thyself content 

Couldst thus continue in such strange descent 

From that most Spacious Place for which ye burn, 

And while ye further left, would fain return.' 

" 'That which thou wouldst,' she said, 'I briefly tell. 

There is no fear nor any hurt in Hell, 

Except that it be powerful. God in me 

Is gracious, that the piteous sights I see 

I share not, nor myself can shrink to feel 

The flame of all this burning. One there is 

In height among the Holiest placed, and she 

- Mercy her name - among God's mysteries 

Dwells in the midst, and hath the power to see 

His judgments, and to break them. This sharp 

I tell thee, when she saw, she called, that so 

Leaned Lucia toward her while she spake - and said, 

"One that is faithful to thy name is sped, 

Except that now ye aid him." She thereat, 

- Lucia, to all men's wrongs inimical - 

Left her High Place, and crossed to where I sat 

In speech with Rachel (of the first of all 

God saved). "O Beatrice, Praise of God," 

- So said she to me - "sitt'st thou here so slow 

To aid him, once on earth that loved thee so 

That all he left to serve thee? Hear'st thou not 

The anguish of his plaint? and dost not see, 

By that dark stream that never seeks a sea, 

The death that threats him?" 

None, as thus she

said, 

None ever was swift on earth his good to chase, 

None ever on earth was swift to leave his dread, 

As came I downward from that sacred place 

To find thee and invoke thee, confident 

Not vainly for his need the gold were spent 

Of thy word-wisdom.' Here she turned away, 

Her bright eyes clouded with their tears, and I, 

Who saw them, therefore made more haste to reach 

The place she told, and found thee. Canst thou say 

I failed thy rescue? Is the beast anigh 

From which ye quailed? When such dear saints beseech 

- Three from the Highest - that Heaven thy course allow 

Why halt ye fearful? In such guards as thou 

The faintest-hearted might be bold." 

As flowers, 

Close-folded through the cold and lightless hours, 

Their bended stems erect, and opening fair 

Accept the white light and the warmer air 

Of morning, so my fainting heart anew 

Lifted, that heard his comfort. Swift I spake, 

"O courteous thou, and she compassionate! 

Thy haste that saved me, and her warning true, 

Beyond my worth exalt me. Thine I make 

My will. In concord of one mind from now, 

O Master and my Guide, where leadest thou 

I follow." 

And we, with no more words' delay, 

Went forward on that hard and dreadful way. 

Canto III 

THE gateway to the city of Doom. Through me 

The entrance to the Everlasting Pain. 

The Gateway of the Lost. The Eternal Three 

Justice impelled to build me. Here ye see 

Wisdom Supreme at work, and Primal Power, 

And Love Supernal in their dawnless day. 

Ere from their thought creation rose in flower 

Eternal first were all things fixed as they. 

Of Increate Power infinite formed am I 

That deathless as themselves I do not die. 

Justice divine has weighed: the doom is clear. 

All hope renounce, ye lost, who enter here. 

This scroll in gloom above the gate I read, 

And found it fearful. "Master, hard," I said, 

"This saying to me." And he, as one that long 

Was customed, answered, "No distrust must wrong 

Its Maker, nor thy cowarder mood resume 

If here ye enter. This the place of doom 

I told thee, where the lost in darkness dwell. 

Here, by themselves divorced from light, they fell, 

And are as ye shall see them." Here he lent 

A hand to draw me through the gate, and bent 

A glance upon my fear so confident 

That I, too nearly to my former dread 

Returned, through all my heart was comforted, 

And downward to the secret things we went. 

Downward to night, but not of moon and cloud, 

Not night with all its stars, as night we know, 

But burdened with an ocean-weight of woe 

The darkness closed us. 

Sighs, and wailings loud, 

Outcries perpetual of recruited pain, 

Sounds of strange tongues, and angers that remain 

Vengeless for ever, the thick and clamorous crowd 

Of discords pressed, that needs I wept to hear, 

First hearing. There, with reach of hands anear, 

And voices passion-hoarse, or shrilled with fright, 

The tumult of the everlasting night, 

As sand that dances in continual wind, 

Turns on itself for ever. 

And I, my head 

Begirt with movements, and my ears bedinned 

With outcries round me, to my leader said, 

"Master, what hear I? Who so overborne 

With woes are these?" 

He answered, "These be they 

That praiseless lived and blameless. Now the scorn 

Of Height and Depth alike, abortions drear; 

Cast with those abject angels whose delay 

To join rebellion, or their Lord defend, 

Waiting their proved advantage, flung them here. - 

Chased forth from Heaven, lest else its beauties end 

The pure perfection of their stainless claim, 

Out-herded from the shining gate they came, 

Where the deep hells refused them, lest the lost 

Boast something baser than themselves." 

And I, 

"Master, what grievance hath their failure cost, 

That through the lamentable dark they cry?" 

He answered, "Briefly at a thing not worth 

We glance, and pass forgetful. Hope in death 

They have not. Memory of them on the earth 

Where once they lived remains not. Nor the breath 

Of Justice shall condemn, nor Mercy plead, 

But all alike disdain them. That they know 

Themselves so mean beneath aught else constrains 

The envious outcries that too long ye heed. 

Move past, but speak not." 

Then I looked, and

lo, 

Were souls in ceaseless and unnumbered trains 

That past me whirled unending, vainly led 

Nowhither, in useless and unpausing haste. 

A fluttering ensign all their guide, they chased 

Themselves for ever. I had not thought the dead, 

The whole world's dead, so many as these. I saw 

The shadow of him elect to Peter's seat 

Who made the great refusal, and the law, 

The unswerving law that left them this retreat 

To seal the abortion of their lives, became 

Illumined to me, and themselves I knew, 

To God and all his foes the futile crew 

How hateful in their everlasting shame. 

I saw these victims of continued death 

- For lived they never - were naked all, and loud 

Around them closed a never-ceasing cloud 

Of hornets and great wasps, that buzzed and clung, 

- Weak pain for weaklings meet, - and where they stung, 

Blood from their faces streamed, with sobbing breath, 

And all the ground beneath with tears and blood 

Was drenched, and crawling in that loathsome mud 

There were great worms that drank it. 

Gladly

thence 

I gazed far forward. Dark and wide the flood 

That flowed before us. On the nearer shore 

Were people waiting. "Master, show me whence 

These came, and who they be, and passing hence 

Where go they? Wherefore wait they there content, 

- The faint light shows it, - for their transit o'er 

The unbridged abyss?" 

He answered, "When we stand 

Together, waiting on the joyless strand, 

In all it shall be told thee." If he meant 

Reproof I know not, but with shame I bent 

My downward eyes, and no more spake until 

The bank we reached, and on the stream beheld 

A bark ply toward us. 

Of exceeding eld, 

And hoary showed the steersman, screaming shrill, 

With horrid glee the while he neared us, "Woe 

To ye, depraved! - Is here no Heaven, but ill 

The place where I shall herd ye. Ice and fire 

And darkness are the wages of their hire 

Who serve unceasing here - But thou that there 

Dost wait though live, depart ye. Yea, forbear! 

A different passage and a lighter fare 

Is destined thine." 

But here my guide replied, 

"Nay, Charon, cease; or to thy grief ye chide. 

It There is willed, where that is willed shall be, 

That ye shall pass him to the further side, 

Nor question more." 

The fleecy cheeks thereat, 

Blown with fierce speech before, were drawn and flat, 

And his flame-circled eyes subdued, to hear 

That mandate given. But those of whom he spake 

In bitter glee, with naked limbs ashake, 

And chattering teeth received it. Seemed that then 

They first were conscious where they came, and fear 

Abject and frightful shook them; curses burst 

In clamorous discords forth; the race of men, 

Their parents, and their God, the place, the time, 

Of their conceptions and their births, accursed 

Alike they called, blaspheming Heaven. But yet 

Slow steps toward the waiting bark they set, 

With terrible wailing while they moved. And so 

They came reluctant to the shore of woe 

That waits for all who fear not God, and not 

Them only. 

Then the demon Charon rose 

To herd them in, with eyes that furnace-hot 

Glowed at the task, and lifted oar to smite 

Who lingered. 

As the leaves, when autumn shows, 

One after one descending, leave the bough, 

Or doves come downward to the call, so now 

The evil seed of Adam to endless night, 

As Charon signalled, from the shore's bleak height, 

Cast themselves downward to the bark. The brown 

And bitter flood received them, and while they passed 

Were others gathering, patient as the last, 

Not conscious of their nearing doom. 

"My son," 

- Replied my guide the unspoken thought - "is none 

Beneath God's wrath who dies in field or town, 

Or earth's wide space, or whom the waters drown, 

But here he cometh at last, and that so spurred 

By Justice, that his fear, as those ye heard, 

Impels him forward like desire. Is not 

One spirit of all to reach the fatal spot 

That God's love holdeth, and hence, if Char 

chide, 

Ye well may take it. - Raise thy heart, for now, 

Constrained of Heaven, he must thy course allow." 

Yet how I passed I know not. For the ground 

Trembled that heard him, and a fearful sound 

Of issuing wind arose, and blood-red light 

Broke from beneath our feet, and sense and sight 

Left me. The memory with cold sweat once more 

Reminds me of the sudden-crimsoned night, 

As sank I senseless by the dreadful shore. 

Canto IV 

ARISING thunder from the vast Abyss 

First roused me, not as he that rested wakes 

From slumbrous hours, but one rude fury shakes 

Untimely, and around I gazed to know 

The place of my confining. 

Deep, profound, 

Dark beyond sight, and choked with doleful sound, 

Sheer sank the Valley of the Lost Abyss, 

Beneath us. On the utmost brink we stood, 

And like the winds of some unresting wood 

The gathered murmur from those depths of woe 

Soughed upward into thunder. Out from this 

The unceasing sound comes ever. I might not tell 

How deep the Abyss down sank from hell to hell, 

It was so clouded and so dark no sight 

Could pierce it. 

"Downward through the worlds of night 

We will descend together. I first, and thou 

My footsteps taking," spake my guide, and I 

Gave answer, "Master, when thyself art pale, 

Fear-daunted, shall my weaker heart avail 

That on thy strength was rested?" 

"Nay," said he, 

"Not fear, but anguish at the issuing cry 

So pales me. Come ye, for the path we tread 

Is long, and time requires it." Here he led 

Through the first entrance of the ringed abyss, 

Inward, and I went after, and the woe 

Softened behind us, and around I heard 

Nor scream of torment, nor blaspheming word, 

But round us sighs so many and deep there came 

That all the air was motioned. I beheld 

Concourse of men and women and children there 

Countless. No pain was theirs of cold or flame, 

But sadness only. And my Master said, 

"Art silent here? Before ye further go 

Among them wondering, it is meet ye know 

They are not sinful, nor the depths below 

Shall claim them. But their lives of righteousness 

Sufficed not to redeem. The gate decreed, 

Being born too soon, we did not pass ( for I, 

Dying unbaptized, am of them). More nor less 

Our doom is weighed, - to feel of Heaven the need, 

To long, and to be hopeless." 

Grief

was mine 

That heard him, thinking what great names must be 

In this suspense around me. "Master, tell," 

I questioned, "from this outer girth of Hell 

Pass any to the blessed spheres exalt, 

Through other's merits or their own the fault. 

Condoned?" And he, my covert speech that read, 

- For surance sought I of my faith, - replied, 

"Through the shrunk hells there came a Great One, crowned 

And garmented with conquest. Of the dead, 

He rescued from us him who earliest died, 

Abel, and our first parent. Here He found, 

Abraham, obedient to the Voice he heard; 

And Moses, first who wrote the Sacred Word; 

Isaac, and Israel and his sons, and she, 

Rachel, for whom he travailed; and David, king; 

And many beside unnumbered, whom he led 

Triumphant from the dark abodes, to be 

Among the blest for ever. Until this thing 

I witnessed, none, of all the countless dead, 

But hopeless through the somber gate he came." 

Now while he spake he paused not, but pursued, 

Through the dense woods of thronging spirits, his aim 

Straight onward, nor was long our path until 

Before us rose a widening light, to fill 

One half of all the darkness, and I knew 

While yet some distance, that such Shades were there 

As nobler moved than others, and questioned, "Who, 

Master, are those that in their aspect bear 

Such difference from the rest?" 

"All

these," he said, 

"Were named so glorious in thy earth above 

That Heaven allows their larger claim to be 

Select, as thus ye see them." 

While

he spake 

A voice rose near us: "Hail!" it cried, "for he 

Returns, who was departed." 

Scarce

it ceased 

When four great spirits approached. They did not show 

Sadness nor joy, but tranquil-eyed as though 

Content in their dominion moved. My guide 

Before I questioned told, "That first ye see, 

With hand that fits the swordhilt, mark, for he 

Is Homer, sovereign of the craft we tried, 

Leader and lord of even the following three, - 

Horace, and Ovid, and Lucan. The voice ye heard, 

That hailed me, caused them by one impulse stirred 

Approach to do me honour, for these agree 

In that one name we boast, and so do well 

Owning it in me." There was I joyed to meet 

Those shades, who closest to his place belong, 

The eagle course of whose out-soaring song 

Is lonely in height. 

Some space apart (to

tell, 

It may be, something of myself ), my guide 

Conversed, until they turned with grace to greet 

Me also, and my Master smiled to see 

They made me sixth and equal. Side by side 

We paced toward the widening light, and spake 

Such things as well were spoken there, and here 

Were something less than silence. 

Strong and wide 

Before us rose a castled height, beset 

With sevenfold-circling walls, unscalable, 

And girdled with a rivulet round, but yet 

We passed thereover, and the water clear 

As dry land bore me; and the walls ahead 

Their seven strong gates made open one by one, 

As each we neared, that where my Master led 

With ease I followed, although without were none 

But deep that stream beyond their wading spread, 

And closed those gates beyond their breach had been, 

Had they sought entry with us. 

Of

coolest green 

Stretched the wide lawns we midmost found, for there, 

Intolerant of itself, was Hell made fair 

To accord with its containing. 

Grave,

austere, 

Quiet-voiced and slow, of seldom words were they 

That walked that verdure. 

To a

place aside 

Open, and light, and high, we passed, and here 

Looked downward on the lawns, in clear survey 

Of such great spirits as are my glory and pride 

That once I saw them. 

There, direct in

view, 

Electra passed, among her sons. I knew 

Hector and &Aelig;neas there; and Cжsar too 

Was of them, armed and falcon-eyed; and there 

Camilla and Penthesilea. Near there sate 

Lavinia, with her sire the Latian king; 

Brutus, who drave the Tarquin; and Lucrece 

Julia, Cornelia, Marcia, and their kin; 

And, by himself apart, the Saladin. 

Somewhat beyond I looked. A place more high 

Than where these heroes moved I gazed, and knew 

The Master of reasoned thought, whose hand withdrew 

The curtain of the intellect, and bared 

The secret things of nature; while anigh, 

But lowlier, grouped the greatest names that shared 

His searchings. All regard and all revere 

They gave him. Plato there, and Socrates 

I marked, who closeliest reached his height; and near 

Democritus, who dreamed a world of chance 

Born blindly in the whirl of circumstance; 

And Anaxagoras, Diogenes, 

Thales, Heraclitus, Empedocles, 

Zeno, were there; and Dioscorides 

Who searched the healing powers of herbs and trees; 

And Orpheus, Tullius, Livius, Seneca, 

Euclid and Ptolemжus; Avicenna, 

Galen, Hippocrates; Averrhoлs, 

The Master's great interpreter, - but these 

Are few to those I saw, an endless dream 

Of shades before whom Hell quietened and cowered. My theme, 

With thronging recollections of mighty names 

That there I marked impedes me. All too long 

They chase me, envious that my burdened song 

Forgets. - But onward moves my guide anew: 

The light behind us fades: the six are two: 

Again the shuddering air, the cries of Hell 

Compassed, and where we walked the darkness fell. 

Canto V 

MOST like the spirals of a pointed shell, 

But separate each, go downward, hell from hell, 

The ninefold circles of the damned; but each 

Smaller, concentrate in its greater pain, 

Than that which overhangs it. 

Those

who reach 

The second whorl, on entering, learn their bane 

Where Minos, hideous, sits and snarls. He hears, 

Decides, and as he girds himself they go. 

Before his seat each ill-born spirit appear, 

And tells its tale of evil, loath or no, 

While he, their judge, of all sins cognizant, 

Hears, and around himself his circling tail 

Twists to the number of the depths below 

To which they doom themselves in telling. 

Alway 

The crowding sinners: their turn they wait: they show 

Their guilt: the circles of his tail convey 

Their doom: and downward they are whirled away. 

"O thou who callest at this doleful inn," 

Cried Minos to me, while the child of sin 

That stood confessing before him, trembling stayed, 

"Heed where thou enterest in thy trust, nor say, 

I walk in safety, for the width of way 

Suffices." 

But my guide the answer took, 

"Why dost thou cry? or leave thine ordered trade 

For that which nought belongs thee? Hinder not 

His destined path. For where he goeth is willed, 

Where that is willed prevaileth." 

Now

was filled 

The darker air with wailing. Wailing shook 

My soul to hear it. Where we entered now 

No light attempted. Only sound arose, 

As ocean with the tortured air contends, 

What time intolerable tempest rends 

The darkness; so the shrieking winds oppose 

For ever, and bear they, as they swerve and sweep, 

The doomed disastrous spirits, and whirl aloft, 

Backward, and down, nor any rest allow, 

Nor pause of such contending wraths as oft 

Batter them against the precipitous sides, and there 

The shrieks and moanings quench the screaming air, 

The cries of their blaspheming. 

These

are they 

That lust made sinful. As the starlings rise 

At autumn, darkening all the colder skies, 

In crowded troops their wings up-bear, so here 

These evil-doers on each contending blast 

Were lifted upward, whirled, and downward cast, 

And swept around unceasing. Striving airs 

Lift them, and hurl, nor ever hope is theirs 

Of rest or respite or decreasing pains, 

But like the long streaks of the calling cranes 

So came they wailing down the winds, to meet 

Upsweeping blasts that ever backward beat 

Or sideward flung them on their walls. And I - 

"Master who are they next that drive anigh 

So scourged amidst the blackness?" 

"These," he said, 

"So lashed and harried, by that queen are led, 

Empress of alien tongues, Semiramis, 

Who made her laws her lawless lusts to kiss, 

So was she broken by desire; and this 

Who comes behind, back-blown and beaten thus, 

Love's fool, who broke her faith to Sichжus, 

Dido; and bare of all her luxury, 

Nile's queen, who lost her realm for Antony." 

And after these, amidst that windy train, 

Helen, who soaked in blood the Trojan plain, 

And great Achilles I saw, at last whose feet 

The same net trammelled; and Tristram, Paris, he showed; 

And thousand other along the fated road 

Whom love led deathward through disastrous things 

He pointed as they passed, until my mind 

Was wildered in this heavy pass to find 

Ladies so many, and cavaliers and kings 

Fallen, and pitying past restraint, I said, 

"Poet, those next that on the wind appear 

So light, and constant as they drive or veer 

Are parted never, I fain would speak." 

And he, - 

"Conjure them by their love, and thou shalt see 

Their flight come hither." 

And when the swerving blast 

Most nearly bent, I called them as they passed, 

"O wearied souls, come downward, if the Power 

That drives allow ye, for one restful hour." 

As doves, desirous of their nest at night, 

Cleave through the dusk with swift and open flight 

Of level-lifting wings, that love makes light, 

Will-borne, so downward through the murky air 

Came those sad spirits, that not deep Hell's despair 

Could sunder, parting from the faithless band 

That Dido led, and with one voice, as though 

One soul controlled them, spake, 

"O Animate! 

Who comest through the black malignant air, 

Benign among us who this exile bear 

For earth ensanguined, if the King of All 

Heard those who from the outer darkness call 

Entreat him would we for thy peace, that thou 

Hast pitied us condemned, misfortunate. - 

Of that which please thee, if the winds allow, 

Gladly I tell. Ravenna, on that shore 

Where Po finds rest for all his streams, we knew; 

And there love conquered. Love, in gentle heart 

So quick to take dominion, overthrew 

Him with my own fair body, and overbore 

Me with delight to please him. Love, which gives 

No pardon to the loved, so strongly in me 

Was empired, that its rule, as here ye see, 

Endureth, nor the bitter blast contrives 

To part us. Love to one death led us. The mode 

Afflicts me, shrinking, still. The place of Cain 

Awaits our slayer." 

They ceased, and I my head 

Bowed down, and made no answer, till my guide 

Questioned, "What wouldst thou more?" and replied, 

"Alas my thought I what sweet keen longings led 

These spirits, woeful, to their dark abode!" 

And then to them, - "Francesca, all thy pain 

Is mine. With pity and grief I weep. But say 

How, in the time of sighing, and in what way, 

Love gave you of the dubious deeds to know." 

And she to me, "There is no greater woe 

In all Hell's depths than cometh when those who 

Look back to Eden. But if thou wouldst learn 

Our love's first root, I can but weep and tell. 

One day, and for delight in idleness, 

- Alone we were, without suspicion, - 

We read together, and chanced the page to turn 

Where Galahad tells the tale of Lancelot, 

How love constrained him. Oft our meeting eyes, 

Confessed the theme, and conscious cheeks were hot, 

Reading, but only when that instant came 

Where the surrendering lips were kissed, no less 

Desire beat in us, and whom, for all this pain, 

No hell shall sever (so great at least our gain), 

Trembling, he kissed my mouth, and all forgot, 

We read no more." 

As thus did one confess 

Their happier days, the other wept, and I 

Grew faint with pity, and sank as those who die. 

Canto VI 

THE misery of that sight of souls in Hell 

Condemned, and constant in their loss, prevailed 

So greatly in me, that I may not tell 

How passed I from them, sense and memory failed 

So far. 

But here new torments I discern, 

And new tormented, wheresoe'er I turn. 

For sodden around me was the place of bane, 

The third doomed circle, where the culprits know 

The cold, unceasing, and relentless rain 

Pour down without mutation. Heavy with hail, 

With turbid waters mixed, and cold with snow, 

It streams from out the darkness, and below 

The soil is putrid, where the impious lie 

Grovelling, and howl like dogs, beneath the flail 

That flattens to the foul soaked ground, and try 

Vainly for ease by turning. And the while 

Above them roams and ravens the loathsome hound 

Cerberus, and feeds upon them. 

The swampy ground 

He ranges; with his long clawed hands he grips 

The sinners, and the fierce and hairy lips 

(Thrice-headed is he) tear, and the red blood drips 

From all his jaws. He clutches, and flays, and rends, 

And treads them, growling: and the flood descends 

Straight downward. 

When he saw us, the loathly worm 

Showed all his fangs, and eager trembling frame 

Nerved for the leap. But undeterred my guide. 

Stooped down, and gathered in full hands the soil, 

And cast it in the gaping gullets, to foil 

Gluttonous blind greed, and those fierce mouths and wide 

Closed on the filth, and as the craving cur 

Quietens, that strained and howled to reach his food, 

Biting the bone, those squalid mouths subdued 

And silenced, wont above the empty dead 

To bark insatiate, while they tore unfed 

The writhing shadows. 

The straight persistent rain, 

That altered never, had pressed the miry plain 

With flattened shades that in their emptiness 

Still showed as bodies. We might not here progress 

Except we trod them. Of them all, but one 

Made motion as we passed. Against the rain 

Rising, and resting on one hand, he said, 

"O thou, who through the drenching murk art led, 

Recall me if thou canst. Thou wast begun 

Before I ended." 

I, who looked in vain 

For human semblance in that bestial shade, 

Made answer, "Misery here hath all unmade, 

It may be, that thou wast on earth, for nought 

Recalls thee to me. But thyself shalt tell 

The sins that scourged thee to this foul resort, 

That more displeasing not the scope of Hell 

Can likely yield, though greater pains may lie 

More deep." 

And he to me, "Thy city, so high 

With envious hates that swells, that now the sack 

Bursts, and pours out in ruin, and spreads its wrack 

Far outward, was mine alike, while clearer air 

Still breathed I. Citizens who knew me there 

Called me Ciacco. For the vice I fed 

At rich men's tables, in this filth I lie 

Drenched, beaten, hungered, cold, uncomforted, 

Mauled by that ravening greed; and these, as I, 

With gluttonous lives the like reward have won." 

I answered, "Piteous is thy state to one 

Who knew thee in thine old repute, but say, 

If yet persists thy previous mind, which way 

The feuds of our rent city shall end, and why 

These factions vex us, and if still there be 

One just man left among us." 

"Two," said he, 

"Are just, but none regards them. Yet more high 

The strife, till bloodshed from their long contend 

Shall issue at last: the barbarous Cerchi clan 

Cast the Donati exiled out, and they 

Within three years return, and more offend 

Than they were erst offended, helped by him 

So long who palters with both parts. The fire 

Three sparks have lighted - Avarice, Envy, Pride, - 

And there is none may quench it." 

Here

he ceased 

His lamentable tale, and I replied, 

"Of one thing more I ask thee. Great desire 

Is mine to learn it. Where are those who sought 

Our welfare earlier? Those whose names at least 

Are fragrant for the public good they wrought, 

Arrigo, Mosca, and the Tegghiaio 

Worthiest, and Farinata, and with these 

Jacopo Rusticucci. I would know 

If soft in Heaven or bitter-hard in Hell 

Their lives continue." 

"Cast in hells

more low 

Than yet thou hast invaded, deep they lie, 

For different crimes from ours, and shouldst thou go 

So far, thou well mayst see them. If thou tread 

Again the sweet light land, and overhead 

Converse with those I knew there, then recall, 

I pray, my memory to my friends of yore. 

But ask no further, for I speak no more." 

Thereon his eyes, that straight had gazed before 

Squinted and failed, and slowly sank his head, 

And blindly with his sodden mates he lay. 

And spake my guide, "He shall not lift nor stir, 

Until the trumpet shrills that wakens Hell; 

And these, who must inimical Power obey, 

Shall each return to his sad grave, and there 

In carnal form the sinful spirit shall dwell 

Once more, and that time only, from the tomb 

Rising to hear the irrevocable doom 

Which shall reverberate through eternity." 

So paced we slowly through the rain that fell 

Unchanging, over that foul ground, and trod 

The dismal spirits it held, and somewhat spake 

Of life beyond us, and the things of God; 

And asked I, "Master, shall these torments cease, 

Continue as they are, or more increase, 

When calls the trumpet, and the graves shall break, 

And the great Sentence sound?" 

And he

to me, 

"Recall thy learning, as thou canst. We know 

With more perfection, greater pain or bliss 

Resolves, and though perfection may not be 

To these accurs'd, yet nearer then than this 

It may be they shall reach it." 

More

to show 

He sought, as turned we to the fresh descent, 

But speaking all in such strange words as went 

Past me. - But ceased our downward path, and 

Plutus, of human weal the hateful foe. 

Canto VII 

HAH, strange! ho, Satan!" such the sounds half-heard 

The thick voice gobbled, the while the foul, inflamed, 

Distended visage toward us turned, and cast 

Invective from its bestial throat, that slurred 

Articulate speech. But here the gentle sage, 

Who knew beforehand that we faced, to me 

Spake first, "Regard not; for a threat misaimed 

Falls idle. Fear not to continue past. 

His power to us, however else it be, 

Is not to hinder." Then, that bulk inflate 

Confronting, - "Peace, thou greed! thy lusting rage 

Consume thee inward! Not thy word we wait 

The path to open. It is willed on high, - 

There, where the Angel of the Sword ye know 

Took ruin upon the proud adultery 

Of him thou callest as thy prince." 

Thereat 

As sails, wind-rounded, when the mast gives way, 

Sink tangled to the deck, deflated so 

Collapsed that bulk that heard him, shrunk and flat; 

And we went downward till before us lay 

The fourth sad circle. Ah! what woes contain, 

Justice of God! what woes those narrowing deeps 

Contain; for all the universe down-heaps 

In this pressed space its continent of pain, 

So voiding all that mars its peace. But why 

This guilt that so degrades us? 

As the

surge 

Above Charybdis meets contending surge, 

Breaks and is broken, and rages and recoils 

For ever, so here the sinners. More numerous 

Than in the circles past are these. They urge 

Huge weights before them. On, with straining breasts, 

They roll them, howling in their ceaseless toils. 

And those that to the further side belong 

l)o likewise, meeting in the midst, and thus 

Crash vainly, and recoil, reverse, and cry, 

"Why dost thou hold?" "Why dost thou loose?" 

No rest 

Their doom permits them. Backward course they bend; 

Continual crescents trace, at either end 

Meeting again in fresh rebound, and high 

Above their travail reproachful howlings rise 

Incessant at those who thwart their round. 

And I, 

Who felt my heart stung through with anguish, said, 

"O Master, show me who these peoples be, 

And if those tonsured shades that left we see 

Held priestly office ere they joined the dead." 

He answered, "These, who with such squinting eyes 

Regarded God's providing, that they spent 

In waste immoderate, indicate their guilt 

In those loud barkings that ye hear. They spilt 

Their wealth distemperate; and those they meet 

Who cry 'Why loose ye?' avarice ruled: they bent 

Their minds on earth to seize and hoard. Of these 

Hairless, are priests, and popes, and cardinals, 

For greed makes empire in such hearts complete." 

And I, "Among them that these vices eat 

Are none that I have known on earth before?" 

He answered, "Vainly wouldst thou seek; a life 

So blind to bounties has obscured too far 

The souls once theirs, for that which once they wore 

Of mortal likeness in their shades to show. 

Waste was their choice, and this abortive strife 

And toil unmeaning is the end they are 

They butt for ever, until the last award 

Shall call them from their graves. Ill-holding those 

Ill-loosing these, alike have doomed to know 

This darkness, and the fairer world forgo. 

Behold what mockery doth their fate afford! 

It needs no fineness of spun words to tell. 

For this they did their subtle wits oppose, 

Contending for the gifts that Fortune straws 

So blindly, - for this blind contending hell. 

"Beneath the moon there is not gold so great 

In worth, it could one moment's grief abate, 

Or rest one only of these weary souls." 

"Master, this Fortune that ye speak, whose claws 

Grasp all desirable things of earth," I said, 

"What is she?" 

"O betrayed in foolishness I 

Blindness of creatures born of earth, whose goals 

Are folly and loss!" he answered, "I would make 

Thy mouth an opening for this truth I show. 

"Transcendent Wisdom, when the spheres He built 

Gave each a guide to rule it: more nor less 

Their light distributes. For the earth he gave 

Like guide to rule its splendours. As we know 

The heavenly lights move round us, and is spilt 

Light here, and darkness yonder, so doth she 

From man to man, from race and kindred take 

Alternate wealth, or yield it. None may save 

The spoil that she depriveth: none may flee 

The bounty that she wills. No human wits 

May hinder, nor may human lore reject 

Her choice, that like a hidden snake is set 

To reach the feet unheeding. Where she sits 

In judgment, she resolves, and whom she wills 

Is havened, chased by petulant storms, or wreck ' 

Remedeless. Races cease, and men forget 

They were. Slaves rise to rule their lords. She 

And empties, godlike in her mood. No pause 

Her changes leave, so many are those who call 

About her gates, so many she dowers, and all 

Revile her after, and would crucify 

If words could reach her, but she heeds nor hears, 

Who dwells beyond the noise of human laws 

In the blest silence of the Primal Spheres. 

- But let us to the greater woes descend. 

The stars from their meridian fall, that rose 

When first these hells we entered. Long to stay 

Our right of path allows not." 

While

he spake 

We crossed the circle to the bank beyond, 

And found a hot spring boiling, and a way, 

Dark, narrow, and steep, that down beside it goes, 

By which we clambered. Purple-black the pond 

Beneath it, widening to a marsh that spreads 

Far out, and struggling in that slime malign 

Were muddied shades, that not with hands, heads, 

And teeth and feet besides, contending tore, 

And maimed each other in beast-like rage. 

My guide 

Expounded, "Those whom anger overbore 

On earth, behold ye. Mark the further sign 

Of bubbles countless on the slime that show. 

These from the sobs of those immersed arise; 

For buried in the choking filth they cry, 

We once were sullen in the rain-sweet air, 

When waked the light, and all the earth was fair, 

How sullen in the murky swamp we lie 

Forbidden from the blessed light on high. 

This song they gurgle in their throats, that so 

The bubbles rising from the depths below 

Break all the surface of the slime." 

Between 

The high bank and the putrid swamp was seen 

A narrow path, and this, a sweeping arc, 

We traversed; outward o'er the surface dark 

Still gazing, at the choking shades who took 

That diet for their wrath. Till livelier look 

Was forward drawn, for where at last we came 

A great tower fronted, and a beacon's flame. 

Canto VIII 

I SAY, while yet from that tower's base afar, 

We saw two flames of sudden signal rise, 

And further, like a small and distant star, 

A beacon answered. 

"What before us lies? 

Who signals our approach, and who replies?" 

I asked, and answered he who all things knew, 

"Already, if the swamp's dank fumes permit, 

The outcome of their beacon shows in view, 

Severing the liquid filth." 

No shaft can slit 

Impalpable air, from any corded bow, 

As came that craft towards us, cleaving so, 

And with incredible speed, the miry wave. 

To where we paused its meteor course it clave, 

A steersman rising in the stern, who cried, 

"Behold thy doom, lost spirit!" To whom my guide, 

"Nay, Phlegyas, Phlegyas, here thy cries are 

We need thine aid the further shore to gain; 

But power thou hast not." 

One amazed to meet 

With most unlooked and undeserved deceit 

So rages inly; yet no dared reply 

There came, as down my Leader stept, and I 

Deepened the skiff with earthly weight undue, 

Which while we seated swung its bows anew 

Outward, and onward once again it flew, 

Labouring more deep than wont, and slowlier now, 

So burdened. 

While that kennel of filth we clave, 

There rose among the bubbles a mud-soaked head. 

"Who art thou, here before thy time?" it said, 

And answer to the unfeatured mask I gave, 

"I come, but stay not. Who art thou, so blind 

And blackened from the likeness of thy kind?" 

"I have no name, but only tears," said he. 

I answered, "Nay, however caked thou be, 

I know thee through the muddied drench. For thee 

Be weeping ever, accursed spirit." 

At that, 

He reached his hands to grasp the boat, whereat 

My watchful Master thrust him down, and cried, 

"Away, among the dogs, thy fellows!" and then 

To me with approbation, "Blest art thou, 

Who wouldst not pity in thy heart allow 

For these, in arrogance of empty pride 

Who lived so vainly. In the minds of men 

Is no good thing of this one left to tell, 

And hence his rage. How many above that dwell, 

Now kinglike in their ways, at last shall lie 

Wallowing in these wide marshes, swine in sty, 

With all men's scorn to chase them down." 

And I, 

"Master, it were a seemly thing to see 

This boaster trampled in the putrid sea, 

Who dared approach us, knowing of all we know." 

He answered, "Well thy wish, and surely so 

It shall be, e'er the distant shore we view." 

And I looked outward through the gloom, and lo! 

The envious eaters of that dirt combined 

Against him, leapt upon him, before, behind, 

Dragged in their fury, and rent, and tore him through, 

Screaming derisive, "Philip! whose horse-hooves shine 

With silver," and the rageful Florentine 

Turned on himself his gnashing teeth and tore. 

But he deserveth, and I speak, no more. 

Now, as we neared the further beach, I heard 

The lamentable and unceasing wail 

By which the air of all the hells is stirred 

Increasing ever, which caused mine eyes unveil 

Their keenest vision to search what came, and he 

Who marked, indulgent, told. "Ahead we see 

The city of Dis, with all its dolorous crew, 

Numerous, and burdened with reliefless pain, 

And guilt intolerable to think." 

I said, 

"Master, already through the night I view 

The mosques of that sad city, that fiery red 

As heated metal extend, and crowd the plain." 

He answered, "These the eternal fire contain, 

That pulsing through them sets their domes aglow." 

At this we came those joyless walls below, 

- Of iron I thought them, - with a circling moat; 

But saw no entrance, and the burdened boat 

Traced the deep fosse for half its girth, before 

The steersman warned us. "Get ye forth. The shore 

Is here, - and there the Entrance." 

There,

indeed, 

The entrance. On the barred and burning gate 

I gazed; a thousand of the fiends that rained 

From Heaven, to fill that place disconsolate, 

Looked downward, and derided. "Who," they said, 

"Before his time comes hither? As though the dead 

Arrive too slowly for the joys they would," 

And laughter rocked along their walls. My guide 

Their mockery with an equal mien withstood, 

Signalling their leaders he would speak aside, 

And somewhat closing their contempt they cried, 

"Then come thou hither, and let him backward go, 

Who came so rashly. Let him find his way 

Through the five hells ye traversed, the best he may. 

He can but try it awhile! - But thou shalt stay, 

And learn the welcome of these halls of woe." 

Ye well may think how I, discomforted 

By these accursed words, was moved. The dead, 

Nay, nor the living were ever placed as I, 

If this fiends' counsel triumphed. And who should try 

That backward path unaided? 

"Lord," I said, 

"Loved Master, who hast shared my steps so far, 

And rescued ever, if these our path would bar, 

Then lead me backward in most haste, nor let 

Their malice part us." 

He with cheerful

mien, 

Gave answer. "Heed not that they boast. Forget 

The fear thou showest, and in good heart abide, 

While I go forward. Not these fiends obscene 

Shall thwart the mandate that the Power supplied 

By which we came, nor any force to do 

The things they threaten is theirs; nor think that I 

Should leave thee helpless here." 

The

gentle Sage 

At this went forward. Feared I? Half I knew 

Despair, and half contentment. Yes and no 

Denied each other; and of so great a woe 

Small doubt is anguish. 

In their orgulous

rage 

The fiends out-crowded from the gates to meet 

My Master; what he spake I could not hear; 

But nothing his words availed to cool their heat, 

For inward thronged they with a jostling rear 

That clanged the gates before he reached, and he 

Turned backward slowly, muttering, "Who to me 

Denies the woeful houses?" This he said 

Sighing, with downcast aspect and disturbed 

Beyond concealment; yet some length he curbed 

His anxious thought to cheer me. "Doubt ye nought 

Of power to hurt in these fiends insolent; 

For once the wider gate on which ye read 

The words of doom, with greater pride, they sought 

To close against the Highest. Already is bent 

A great One hereward, whose unhindered way 

Descends the steeps unaided. He shall say 

Such words as must the trembling hells obey." 

Canto IX 

I THINK the paleness of the fear I showed 

When he, rejected from that conference, 

Rejoined me, caused him speak more confident 

Than felt he inly. For the glance he sent 

Through the dense darkness of the backward road 

Denied the valour of his words' pretence; 

And pausing there with anxious listening mien, 

While came no sound, nor any help was seen, 

He muttered, "Yet we must this conflict win, 

For else - But whom her aid has pledged herein - 

How long before he cometh!" And plain I knew 

His words turned sideward from the ending due 

They first portended. Faster beat my fear, 

Methinks, than had he framed in words more clear 

The meaning that his care withheld. 

I said, 

"Do others of the hopeless, sinless, dead, 

Who with thee in the outmost circle dwell, 

Come ever downward to the narrowing hell 

That now we traverse?" 

"Once Erichtho

fell," 

He answered, "conjured to such end that I, 

- Who then short time had passed to those who die, - 

Came here, controlled by her discerning spell, 

And entered through these hostile gates, and drew 

A spirit from the darkest, deepest pit, 

The place of Judas named, that centres Hell. 

The path I learnt, and all its dangers well. 

Content thine heart. This foul-stretched marsh surrounds 

The dolorous city to its furthest bounds. 

Without, the dense mirk, and the bubbling mire: 

Within, the white-hot pulse of eating fire, 

Whence this fiend-anger thwarts. . .," and more he said, 

To save me doubtless from my thoughts, but I 

Heeded no more, for by the beacons red 

That on the lofty tower before us glowed, 

Three bloodstained and infernal furies showed, 

Erect, of female form in guise and limb, 

But clothed in coils of hydras green and grim; 

And with cerastes bound was every head, 

And for its crown of hair was serpented; 

And he, who followed my diverted gaze, 

The handmaids of the Queen of Woeful Days 

Well knowing, told me, "These the Furies three. 

Megжra leftward: on the right is she 

Alecto, wailing: and Tisiphone 

Midmost." 

These hateful, in their need of prey, 

Tore their own breasts with bloodied claws, and when 

They saw me, from the living world of men, 

Beneath them standing, with one purpose they 

Cried, and so loudly that I shrank for fear, 

"Medusa! let her from her place appear, 

To change him into stone! Our first default 

That venged no wrath on Theseus' deep assault, 

So brings him." 

"Turn thou from their sight," my guide 

Enjoined, nor wholly on my fear relied, 

But placed his hands across mine eyes the while 

He told me further "Risk no glance. The sight 

Of Gorgon, if she cometh, would bring thee night 

From which were no returning." 

Ye

that read 

With wisdom to discern, ye well may heed 

The hidden meaning of the truth that lies 

Beneath the shadow-words of mysteries 

That here I show ye. 

While I turned away,

Across the blackness of the putrid bay, 

There crashed a thunder of most fearful sound, 

At which the opposing shores, from bound to bound, 

Trembled. 

As when an entering tempest rends 

The brooding heat, and nought its course can stay, 

That through the forest its dividing way 

Tears open, and tramples down, and strips, and bends, 

And levels. The wild things in the woods that be 

Cower down. The herdsmen from its trumpets flee. 

With clouds of dust to trace its course it goes, 

Superb, and leaving ruin. Such sound arose. 

And he that held me loosened mine eyes, and said, 

"Look back, and see what foam the black waves bear." 

As frogs, the while the serpent picks his prey, 

In panic scatter through the stream, and there 

Flatten themselves upon its bouldered bed, 

I saw a thousand ruined spirits that fled 

Before the coming of One who held his way 

Dry-shod across the water. 

His

left hand 

He waved before him, and the stagnant air 

Retreated. Simple it were to understand 

A Messenger of Heaven he came. My guide 

Signed me to silence, and to reverence due, 

While to one stroke of his indignant wand 

The gate swung open. "Outcast spawn!" he cried, 

His voice heard vibrant through the aperture grim, 

"Why spurn ye at the Will that, once defied, 

Here cast ye grovelling? Have ye felt from Him 

Aught ever for fresh revolt but harder pains? 

Has Cerberus' throat, skinned with the threefold chains, 

No meaning? Why, to fate most impotent, 

Contend ye vainly?" 

Then he turned and went, 

Nor one glance gave us, but he seemed as one 

Whom larger issue than the instant done 

Engages wholly. 

By that Power compelled, 

The gates stood open, and our course we held 

Unhindered. As the threshold dread we crossed, 

My eager glances swept the scene to know, 

In those doomed walls imprisoned, how lived the lost. 

On either hand a wide plain stretched, to show 

A sight of torment, and most dismal woe. 

At Arles, where the stagnant Rhone extends, 

Or Pola, where the gulf Quarnero bends, 

As with old tombs the plains are ridged, so here, 

All sides, did rows of countless tombs appear, 

But in more bitter a guise, for everywhere 

Shone flames, that moved among them. 

Every tomb 

Stood open, white with heat. No craft requires 

More heated metal than the crawling fires 

Made hot the sides of those sad sepulchres; 

And cries of torture and most dire despair 

Came from them, as the spirits wailed their doom. 

I said, "Who are they, in these chests that lie 

Confined, and join in this lamenting cry?" 

My Master answered, "These in life denied 

The faith that saves, and that resisting pride 

Here brought them. With their followers, like to like, 

Assorted are they, and the keen flames strike 

With differing anguish, to the same degree 

They reached in their rebellion." 

While

he spake 

Rightward he turned, a narrow path to take 

Between them and that high-walled boundary. 

Canto X 

FIRST went my Master, for the space was small 

Between the torments and the lofty wall, 

And I behind him. 

"O controlling Will," 

I spake, "who leadest through such hates, and still 

Prevailest for me, wilt thou speak, that who 

Within these tombs are held mine eyes may see? 

For lifted are they, and unwatched." 

And he, - 

"The lids stand open till the time arrive 

When to the valley of Jehoshaphat 

They each must wend, and earthly flesh resume, 

And back returning, as the swarming hive, 

From condemnation, each the doleful tomb 

Re-enter wailing, and the lids thereat 

Be bolted. Here in fitting torment lie 

The Epicurean horde, who dared deny 

That soul outlasts its mortal home. Is here 

Their leader, and his followers round him. Soon 

Shall all thy wish be granted, - and the boon 

Ye hold in secret." 

"Kind my

guide," I said, 

"I was not silent to conceal, but thou 

Didst teach, when in thy written words I read, 

That in brief speech is wisdom." 

Here a voice 

Behind me, "Tuscan, who canst walk at choice 

Untouched amidst the torments, wilt thou stay? 

For surely native of the noble land 

Where once I held my too-audacious way, 

Discreet of speech, thou comest." 

The

sudden cry 

So close behind me from the chests that came, 

First drove me closer to my guide, but he, - 

"What dost thou? Turn thee!" - and a kindly hand 

Impelled me, fearful, where the crawling flame 

Was all around me, - "Lift thine eyes and see, 

For there is Farinata. Be thou short 

In speech, for time is failing." 

Scorn

of hell 

Was in the eyes that met me. Hard he wrought 

To raise himself, till girdle-deep I knew 

The greatest of the fierce Uberti crew, 

Who asked me, with contempt near-waiting, "Tell 

Of whom thou art descended?" 

I

replied, 

Concealing nothing. With lifted brows he eyed 

My face in silence some brief while, and then, - 

"Foes were they ever to my part, and me. 

It yet must linger in the minds of men 

How twice I broke them." 

"Twice ye learned them

flee," 

- I answered boldly, - "but they twice returned; 

And others fled more late who have not learned 

The mode of that returning." 

Here a

shade 

Arose beside him, only to the chin 

Revealed: I think it knelt. Beyond and round 

It rather looked than at me. Nought it found. 

Thereat it wept, and asked me, "Ye that go 

Unhindered through these homes of gateless woe, - 

Is my son with thee? Hast thou nought to tell?" 

I answered, "Single through the gates of hell