Part 10

If thou desire to know who these two are, The valley whence Bisenzio descends Belonged to them and to their father Albert.

They from one body came, and all Caina Thou shalt search through, and shalt not find a shade More worthy to be fixed in gelatine;

Not he in whom were broken breast and shadow At one and the same blow by Arthur’s hand; Focaccia not; not he who me encumbers

So with his head I see no farther forward, And bore the name of Sassol Mascheroni; Well knowest thou who he was, if thou art Tuscan.

And that thou put me not to further speech, Know that I Camicion de’ Pazzi was, And wait Carlino to exonerate me.”

Then I beheld a thousand faces, made Purple with cold; whence o’er me comes a shudder, And evermore will come, at frozen ponds.

And while we were advancing tow’rds the middle, Where everything of weight unites together, And I was shivering in the eternal shade,

Whether ’twere will, or destiny, or chance, I know not; but in walking ’mong the heads I struck my foot hard in the face of one.

Weeping he growled: “Why dost thou trample me? Unless thou comest to increase the vengeance of Montaperti, why dost thou molest me?”

And I: “My Master, now wait here for me, That I through him may issue from a doubt; Then thou mayst hurry me, as thou shalt wish.”

The Leader stopped; and to that one I said Who was blaspheming vehemently still: “Who art thou, that thus reprehendest others?”

“Now who art thou, that goest through Antenora Smiting,” replied he, “other people’s cheeks, So that, if thou wert living, ’twere too much?”

“Living I am, and dear to thee it may be,” Was my response, “if thou demandest fame, That ’mid the other notes thy name I place.”

And he to me: “For the reverse I long; Take thyself hence, and give me no more trouble; For ill thou knowest to flatter in this hollow.”

Then by the scalp behind I seized upon him, And said: “It must needs be thou name thyself, Or not a hair remain upon thee here.”

Whence he to me: “Though thou strip off my hair, I will not tell thee who I am, nor show thee, If on my head a thousand times thou fall.”

I had his hair in hand already twisted, And more than one shock of it had pulled out, He barking, with his eyes held firmly down,

When cried another: “What doth ail thee, Bocca? Is’t not enough to clatter with thy jaws, But thou must bark? what devil touches thee?”

“Now,” said I, “I care not to have thee speak, Accursed traitor; for unto thy shame I will report of thee veracious news.”

“Begone,” replied he, “and tell what thou wilt, But be not silent, if thou issue hence, Of him who had just now his tongue so prompt;

He weepeth here the silver of the French; ‘I saw,’ thus canst thou phrase it, ‘him of Duera There where the sinners stand out in the cold.’

If thou shouldst questioned be who else was there, Thou hast beside thee him of Beccaria, Of whom the gorget Florence slit asunder;

Gianni del Soldanier, I think, may be Yonder with Ganellon, and Tebaldello Who oped Faenza when the people slep.”

Already we had gone away from him, When I beheld two frozen in one hole, So that one head a hood was to the other;

And even as bread through hunger is devoured, The uppermost on the other set his teeth, There where the brain is to the nape united.

Not in another fashion Tydeus gnawed The temples of Menalippus in disdain, Than that one did the skull and the other things.

“O thou, who showest by such bestial sign Thy hatred against him whom thou art eating, Tell me the wherefore,” said I, “with this compact,

That if thou rightfully of him complain, In knowing who ye are, and his transgression, I in the world above repay thee for it,

If that wherewith I speak be not dried up.”

Inferno: Canto XXXIII

His mouth uplifted from his grim repast, That sinner, wiping it upon the hair Of the same head that he behind had wasted.

Then he began: “Thou wilt that I renew The desperate grief, which wrings my heart already To think of only, ere I speak of it;

But if my words be seed that may bear fruit Of infamy to the traitor whom I gnaw, Speaking and weeping shalt thou see together.

I know not who thou art, nor by what mode Thou hast come down here; but a Florentine Thou seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.

Thou hast to know I was Count Ugolino, And this one was Ruggieri the Archbishop; Now I will tell thee why I am such a neighbour.

That, by effect of his malicious thoughts, Trusting in him I was made prisoner, And after put to death, I need not say;

But ne’ertheless what thou canst not have heard, That is to say, how cruel was my death, Hear shalt thou, and shalt know if he has wronged me.

A narrow perforation in the mew, Which bears because of me the title of Famine, And in which others still must be locked up,

Had shown me through its opening many moons Already, when I dreamed the evil dream Which of the future rent for me the veil.

This one appeared to me as lord and master, Hunting the wolf and whelps upon the mountain For which the Pisans cannot Lucca see.

With sleuth-hounds gaunt, and eager, and well trained, Gualandi with Sismondi and Lanfianchi He had sent out before him to the front.

After brief course seemed unto me forespent The father and the sons, and with sharp tushes It seemed to me I saw their flanks ripped open.

When I before the morrow was awake, Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons Who with me were, and asking after bread.

Cruel indeed art thou, if yet thou grieve not, Thinking of what my heart foreboded me, And weep’st thou not, what art thou wont to weep at?

They were awake now, and the hour drew nigh At which our food used to be brought to us, And through his dream was each one apprehensive;

And I heard locking up the under door Of the horrible tower; whereat without a word I gazed into the faces of my sons.

I wept not, I within so turned to stone; They wept; and darling little Anselm mine Said: ‘Thou dost gaze so, father, what doth ail thee?’

Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made All of that day, nor yet the night thereafter, Until another sun rose on the world.

As now a little glimmer made its way Into the dolorous prison, and I saw Upon four faces my own very aspect,

Both of my hands in agony I bit; And, thinking that I did it from desire Of eating, on a sudden they uprose,

And said they: ‘Father, much less pain ’twill give us If thou do eat of us; thyself didst clothe us With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.’

I calmed me then, not to make them more sad. That day we all were silent, and the next. Ah! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open?

When we had come unto the fourth day, Gaddo Threw himself down outstretched before my feet, Saying, ‘My father, why dost thou not help me?’

And there he died; and, as thou seest me, I saw the three fall, one by one, between The fifth day and the sixth; whence I betook me,

Already blind, to groping over each, And three days called them after they were dead; Then hunger did what sorrow could not do.”

When he had said this, with his eyes distorted, The wretched skull resumed he with his teeth, Which, as a dog’s, upon the bone were strong.

Ah! Pisa, thou opprobrium of the people Of the fair land there where the ‘Si’ doth sound, Since slow to punish thee thy neighbours are,

Let the Capraia and Gorgona move, And make a hedge across the mouth of Arno That every person in thee it may drown!

For if Count Ugolino had the fame Of having in thy castles thee betrayed, Thou shouldst not on such cross have put his sons.

Guiltless of any crime, thou modern Thebes! Their youth made Uguccione and Brigata, And the other two my song doth name above!

We passed still farther onward, where the ice Another people ruggedly enswathes, Not downward turned, but all of them reversed.

Weeping itself there does not let them weep, And grief that finds a barrier in the eyes Turns itself inward to increase the anguish;

Because the earliest tears a cluster form, And, in the manner of a crystal visor, Fill all the cup beneath the eyebrow full.

And notwithstanding that, as in a callus, Because of cold all sensibility Its station had abandoned in my face,

Still it appeared to me I felt some wind; Whence I: “My Master, who sets this in motion? Is not below here every vapour quenched?”

Whence he to me: “Full soon shalt thou be where Thine eye shall answer make to thee of this, Seeing the cause which raineth down the blast.”

And one of the wretches of the frozen crust Cried out to us: “O souls so merciless That the last post is given unto you,

Lift from mine eyes the rigid veils, that I May vent the sorrow which impregns my heart A little, e’er the weeping recongeal.”

Whence I to him: “If thou wouldst have me help thee Say who thou wast; and if I free thee not, May I go to the bottom of the ice.”

Then he replied: “I am Friar Alberigo; He am I of the fruit of the bad garden, Who here a date am getting for my fig.”

“O,” said I to him, “now art thou, too, dead?” And he to me: “How may my body fare Up in the world, no knowledge I possess.

Such an advantage has this Ptolomaea, That oftentimes the soul descendeth here Sooner than Atropos in motion sets it.

And, that thou mayest more willingly remove From off my countenance these glassy tears, Know that as soon as any soul betrays

As I have done, his body by a demon Is taken from him, who thereafter rules it, Until his time has wholly been revolved.

Itself down rushes into such a cistern; And still perchance above appears the body Of yonder shade, that winters here behind me.

This thou shouldst know, if thou hast just come down; It is Ser Branca d’ Oria, and many years Have passed away since he was thus locked up.”

“I think,” said I to him, “thou dost deceive me; For Branca d’ Oria is not dead as yet, And eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and puts on clothes.”

“In moat above,” said he, “of Malebranche, There where is boiling the tenacious pitch, As yet had Michel Zanche not arrived,

When this one left a devil in his stead In his own body and one near of kin, Who made together with him the betrayal.

But hitherward stretch out thy hand forthwith, Open mine eyes;”—and open them I did not, And to be rude to him was courtesy.

Ah, Genoese! ye men at variance With every virtue, full of every vice Wherefore are ye not scattered from the world?

For with the vilest spirit of Romagna I found of you one such, who for his deeds In soul already in Cocytus bathes,

And still above in body seems alive!

Inferno: Canto XXXIV

“‘Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni’ Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,” My Master said, “if thou discernest him.”

As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when Our hemisphere is darkening into night, Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,

Methought that such a building then I saw; And, for the wind, I drew myself behind My Guide, because there was no other shelter.

Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it, There where the shades were wholly covered up, And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.

Some prone are lying, others stand erect, This with the head, and that one with the soles; Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.

When in advance so far we had proceeded, That it my Master pleased to show to me The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,

He from before me moved and made me stop, Saying: “Behold Dis, and behold the place Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself.”

How frozen I became and powerless then, Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not, Because all language would be insufficient.

I did not die, and I alive remained not; Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit, What I became, being of both deprived.

The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice; And better with a giant I compare

Than do the giants with those arms of his; Consider now how great must be that whole, Which unto such a part conforms itself.

Were he as fair once, as he now is foul, And lifted up his brow against his Maker, Well may proceed from him all tribulation.

O, what a marvel it appeared to me, When I beheld three faces on his head! The one in front, and that vermilion was;

Two were the others, that were joined with this Above the middle part of either shoulder, And they were joined together at the crest;

And the right-hand one seemed ’twixt white and yellow; The left was such to look upon as those Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.

Underneath each came forth two mighty wings, Such as befitting were so great a bird; Sails of the sea I never saw so large.

No feathers had they, but as of a bat Their fashion was; and he was waving them, So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.

Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed. With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.

At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching A sinner, in the manner of a brake, So that he three of them tormented thus.

To him in front the biting was as naught Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.

“That soul up there which has the greatest pain,” The Master said, “is Judas Iscariot; With head inside, he plies his legs without.

Of the two others, who head downward are, The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus; See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.

And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius. But night is reascending, and ’tis time That we depart, for we have seen the whole.”

As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck, And he the vantage seized of time and place, And when the wings were opened wide apart,

He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides; From fell to fell descended downward then Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.

When we were come to where the thigh revolves Exactly on the thickness of the haunch, The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,

Turned round his head where he had had his legs, And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts, So that to Hell I thought we were returning.

“Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,” The Master said, panting as one fatigued, “Must we perforce depart from so much evil.”

Then through the opening of a rock he issued, And down upon the margin seated me; Then tow’rds me he outstretched his wary step.

I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see Lucifer in the same way I had left him; And I beheld him upward hold his legs.

And if I then became disquieted, Let stolid people think who do not see What the point is beyond which I had passed.

“Rise up,” the Master said, “upon thy feet; The way is long, and difficult the road, And now the sun to middle-tierce returns.”

It was not any palace corridor There where we were, but dungeon natural, With floor uneven and unease of light.

“Ere from the abyss I tear myself away, My Master,” said I when I had arisen, “To draw me from an error speak a little;

Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed Thus upside down? and how in such short time From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?”

And he to me: “Thou still imaginest Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.

That side thou wast, so long as I descended; When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point To which things heavy draw from every side,

And now beneath the hemisphere art come Opposite that which overhangs the vast Dry-land, and ’neath whose cope was put to death

The Man who without sin was born and lived. Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere Which makes the other face of the Judecca.

Here it is morn when it is evening there; And he who with his hair a stairway made us Still fixed remaineth as he was before.

Upon this side he fell down out of heaven; And all the land, that whilom here emerged, For fear of him made of the sea a veil,

And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure To flee from him, what on this side appears Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled.”

A place there is below, from Beelzebub As far receding as the tomb extends, Which not by sight is known, but by the sound

Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed With course that winds about and slightly falls.

The Guide and I into that hidden road Now entered, to return to the bright world; And without care of having any rest

We mounted up, he first and I the second, Till I beheld through a round aperture Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;

Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.

PURGATORIO

Purgatorio: Canto I

To run o’er better waters hoists its sail The little vessel of my genius now, That leaves behind itself a sea so cruel;

And of that second kingdom will I sing Wherein the human spirit doth purge itself, And to ascend to heaven becometh worthy.

But let dead Poesy here rise again, O holy Muses, since that I am yours, And here Calliope somewhat ascend,

My song accompanying with that sound, Of which the miserable magpies felt The blow so great, that they despaired of pardon.

Sweet colour of the oriental sapphire, That was upgathered in the cloudless aspect Of the pure air, as far as the first circle,

Unto mine eyes did recommence delight Soon as I issued forth from the dead air, Which had with sadness filled mine eyes and breast.

The beauteous planet, that to love incites, Was making all the orient to laugh, Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort.

To the right hand I turned, and fixed my mind Upon the other pole, and saw four stars Ne’er seen before save by the primal people.

Rejoicing in their flamelets seemed the heaven. O thou septentrional and widowed site, Because thou art deprived of seeing these!

When from regarding them I had withdrawn, Turning a little to the other pole, There where the Wain had disappeared already,

I saw beside me an old man alone, Worthy of so much reverence in his look, That more owes not to father any son.

A long beard and with white hair intermingled He wore, in semblance like unto the tresses, Of which a double list fell on his breast.

The rays of the four consecrated stars Did so adorn his countenance with light, That him I saw as were the sun before him.

“Who are you? ye who, counter the blind river, Have fled away from the eternal prison?” Moving those venerable plumes, he said:

“Who guided you? or who has been your lamp In issuing forth out of the night profound, That ever black makes the infernal valley?

The laws of the abyss, are they thus broken? Or is there changed in heaven some council new, That being damned ye come unto my crags?”

Then did my Leader lay his grasp upon me, And with his words, and with his hands and signs, Reverent he made in me my knees and brow;

Then answered him: “I came not of myself; A Lady from Heaven descended, at whose prayers I aided this one with my company.

But since it is thy will more be unfolded Of our condition, how it truly is, Mine cannot be that this should be denied thee.

This one has never his last evening seen, But by his folly was so near to it That very little time was there to turn.

As I have said, I unto him was sent To rescue him, and other way was none Than this to which I have myself betaken.

I’ve shown him all the people of perdition, And now those spirits I intend to show Who purge themselves beneath thy guardianship.

How I have brought him would be long to tell thee. Virtue descendeth from on high that aids me To lead him to behold thee and to hear thee.

Now may it please thee to vouchsafe his coming; He seeketh Liberty, which is so dear, As knoweth he who life for her refuses.

Thou know’st it; since, for her, to thee not bitter Was death in Utica, where thou didst leave The vesture, that will shine so, the great day.

By us the eternal edicts are not broken; Since this one lives, and Minos binds not me; But of that circle I, where are the chaste

Eyes of thy Marcia, who in looks still prays thee, O holy breast, to hold her as thine own; For her love, then, incline thyself to us.

Permit us through thy sevenfold realm to go; I will take back this grace from thee to her, If to be mentioned there below thou deignest.”

“Marcia so pleasing was unto mine eyes While I was on the other side,” then said he, “That every grace she wished of me I granted;

Now that she dwells beyond the evil river, She can no longer move me, by that law Which, when I issued forth from there, was made.

But if a Lady of Heaven do move and rule thee, As thou dost say, no flattery is needful; Let it suffice thee that for her thou ask me.

Go, then, and see thou gird this one about With a smooth rush, and that thou wash his face, So that thou cleanse away all stain therefrom,

For ’twere not fitting that the eye o’ercast By any mist should go before the first Angel, who is of those of Paradise.

This little island round about its base Below there, yonder, where the billow beats it, Doth rushes bear upon its washy ooze;

No other plant that putteth forth the leaf, Or that doth indurate, can there have life, Because it yieldeth not unto the shocks.

Thereafter be not this way your return; The sun, which now is rising, will direct you To take the mount by easier ascent.”