The Divine Comedy(Illustrated) E-Book

Dante Alighieri

• Herausgeber: Swish
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

• Illustrated Edition with 20 stunning illustrations
• Includes a comprehensive summary of the book
• Features a detailed characters list for easy reference
• Contains an insightful biography of Dante Alighieri

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri is an extraordinary literary journey through the afterlife, filled with unforgettable imagery, profound spiritual insights, and timeless moral lessons. This epic poem takes readers through three realms: Inferno (Hell), where souls endure eternal punishment for their sins; Purgatorio (Purgatory), where they strive for redemption; and Paradiso (Heaven), a place of divine bliss and eternal enlightenment.
In this illustrated edition, Dante’s vivid and haunting world comes to life through 20 stunning illustrations that capture the most iconic moments of his journey. Accompanied by a detailed summary, a helpful characters list, and an insightful biography of Dante Alighieri, this edition offers readers both the beauty and depth of Dante’s masterpiece in a highly accessible format.
Ideal for both long-time fans and new readers alike, The Divine Comedy is not only a cornerstone of Western literature but also a deeply personal exploration of the human soul, our struggles with sin and redemption, and the eternal quest for spiritual enlightenment. This is a journey you will not forget.
 

Leseprobe

THE DIVINE COMEDY

BY

DANTE ALIGHIERI

ABOUT ALIGHIERI

Dante Alighieri (1265–1321) was an Italian poet, writer, and philosopher, widely regarded as one of the greatest literary figures in history. Born in Florence, Italy, Dante's life and work were deeply shaped by the political turmoil and cultural dynamism of his time. Best known for his monumental epic poem The Divine Comedy, Dante's writings combined intricate theological, philosophical, and political ideas, forging a new path for European literature and the Italian language.

Growing up in a noble family, Dante received an education rooted in classical literature, philosophy, and the study of theology. In his youth, he became involved in the complex political struggles of Florence, aligning with the Guelph faction, which supported the papacy. However, Dante's political career took a fateful turn when the Guelphs split into two factions—the Whites and the Blacks. Dante sided with the Whites, who opposed papal influence in Florence, and this decision eventually led to his exile in 1302 when the opposing Black Guelphs seized control of the city.

Exiled for the rest of his life, Dante spent years wandering through Italy, writing and reflecting on both his personal and philosophical beliefs. This period of exile would prove to be the most creatively fertile of his life. During these years, Dante began work on The Divine Comedy, an allegorical journey through Hell (Inferno), Purgatory (Purgatorio), and Heaven (Paradiso), guided first by the Roman poet Virgil and later by his beloved muse, Beatrice. The poem not only reflects Dante's spiritual and moral journey but also serves as a commentary on the politics, culture, and religion of his time.

Dante's use of the Tuscan dialect in his writing—rather than thetraditional Latin—helped establish Italian as a literary language,and his work inspired future generations of writers and thinkersacross Europe. The Divine Comedy remains a timeless exploration of human nature, the quest for redemption, and the complexities of faith, making Dante a central figure in the Western literary canon.

He died in Ravenna in 1321, still in exile from his beloved Florence, but his legacy endures as a towering symbol of poetic brilliance and intellectual courage.

SUMMARY

The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri is an epic journey through the realms of the afterlife, blending vivid imagery, profound allegory, and spiritual insight. Written in the early 14th century, this masterwork follows Dante himself as the protagonist, guided by the Roman poet Virgil and later by his muse, Beatrice, as he travels through the three realms of the dead: Inferno (Hell), Purgatorio (Purgatory), and Paradiso (Heaven).

In Inferno, Dante descends into the depths of Hell, encountering sinners tormented in strikingly vivid and symbolic punishments that mirror their earthly sins. Each circle reveals the consequences of a life lived in vice, offering a powerful meditation on justice, morality, and the human condition.

Emerging from Hell, Dante climbs the Mount of Purgatory in Purgatorio, where he meets souls striving for redemption and purification. Through their struggles, the poem reflects themes of repentance, hope, and the transformative power of grace.

Finally, in Paradiso, Dante ascends through the celestial spheres of Heaven, experiencing the divine and incomprehensible beauty of the afterlife, ultimately reaching the presence of God. Here, he grapples with the nature of love, faith, and the eternal mysteries of the universe.

A timeless exploration of human nature, The Divine Comedy invites readers into a richly imaginative vision of the afterlife, reflecting Dante's own quest for meaning, spiritual enlightenment, and moral justice. Its universal themes of sin, redemption, and divine love have resonated across centuries, making it one of the most revered works of world literature.

CHARACTERS LIST

Dante (The Pilgrim)

Role: The protagonist and narrator.

Description: Dante embarks on a spiritual journey through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven, representing humanity's quest for salvation. The poem reflects his personal struggles, moral concerns, and search for divine truth.

Virgil

Role: Dante’s guide through Hell and Purgatory.

Description: The Roman poet who represents human reason and wisdom. Although a virtuous pagan, he is unable to enter Heaven and must leave Dante at the gates of Paradise.

Beatrice

Role: Dante’s guide through Heaven.

Description: Dante’s idealized love and symbol of divine grace. She leads Dante through Heaven and represents divine love and spiritual enlightenment.

Lucifer (Satan)

Role: Ruler of Hell.

Description: Found in the ninth circle of Hell, Lucifer is a grotesque, frozen figure representing ultimate evil and betrayal. He eternally chews on the greatest traitors of history.

Charon

Role: Ferryman of Hell.

Description: The boatman who ferries souls across the river Acheron into Hell. He represents the boundary between the living and the damned.

Minos

Role: Judge of the Damned.

Description: The mythological king of Crete who wraps his tail around himself to determine which circle of Hell a soul should be sent to.

Francesca da Rimini and Paolo Malatesta

Role: Lovers in the second circle of Hell.

Description: Condemned for their adulterous love, Francesca tells Dante the tragic story of their affair, which leads to their eternal punishment in the whirlwind of the lustful.

Count Ugolino

Role: A traitor found in the ninth circle of Hell.

Description: Imprisoned with his children, Ugolino is punished for his betrayal by eternally gnawing on the head of Archbishop Ruggieri, who caused his death. His tale is one of the most haunting in Inferno.

Cato of Utica

Role: Guardian of the shores of Purgatory.

Description: A Roman statesman who represents liberty and moral fortitude, Cato stands as the symbol of resistance to tyranny and protects the entrance to Purgatory.

St. Peter

Role: Apostle and guardian of the Gate of Heaven.

Description: In Paradiso, St. Peter questions Dante about his faith, representing the authority of the Church and divine judgment.

St. Bernard of Clairvaux

Role: Dante’s final guide in Heaven.

Description: The monk who leads Dante to the ultimate vision of God in the Empyrean. He represents mystical contemplation and the purity of divine love.

Farinata degli Uberti

Role: Heretic in the sixth circle of Hell.

Description: A powerful political figure in Florence, condemned for his denial of the afterlife. Farinata’s conversation with Dante explores themes of pride and political rivalry.

Brunetto Latini

Role: Found in the seventh circle of Hell (Violence).

Description: Dante’s mentor and teacher, whom he encounters among the souls of the violent against nature. Their encounter highlights Dante’s respect for him despite his sin.

Pier della Vigna

Role: Suicidal soul in the seventh circle of Hell.

Description: A former advisor to Emperor Frederick II, Pier took his own life and is punished in the forest of suicides, symbolized as a twisted tree that speaks to Dante.

Boniface VIII

Role: Not directly present, but a key figure.

Description: A corrupt pope and major antagonist to Dante, frequently mentioned for his involvement in the political corruption of the Church. Dante's disdain for Boniface is clear throughout The Divine Comedy.

These characters, among many others, populate the vast and allegorical world of The Divine Comedy, each representing distinct moral lessons, philosophical ideas, or political commentary.

Contents

HELL

Canto 1

Canto 2

Canto 3

Canto 4

Canto 5

Canto 6

Canto 7

Canto 8

Canto 9

Canto 10

Canto 11

Canto 12

Canto 13

Canto 14

Canto 15

Canto 16

Canto 17

Canto 18

Canto 19

Canto 20

Canto 21

Canto 22

Canto 23

Canto 24

Canto 25

Canto 26

Canto 27

Canto 28

Canto 29

Canto 30

Canto 31

Canto 32

Canto 33

Canto 34

PURGATORY

Canto 1

Canto 2

Canto 3

Canto 4

Canto 5

Canto 6

Canto 7

Canto 8

Canto 9

Canto 10

Canto 11

Canto 12

Canto 13

Canto 14

Canto 15

Canto 16

Canto 17

Canto 18

Canto 19

Canto 20

Canto 21

Canto 22

Canto 23

Canto 24

Canto 25

Canto 26

Canto 27

Canto 28

Canto 29

Canto 30

Canto 31

Canto 32

Canto 33

PARADISE

Canto 1

Canto 2

Canto 3

Canto 4

Canto 5

Canto 6

Canto 7

Canto 8

Canto 9

Canto 10

Canto 11

Canto 12

Canto 13

Canto 14

Canto 15

Canto 16

Canto 17

Canto 18

Canto 19

Canto 20

Canto 21

Canto 22

Canto 23

Canto 24

Canto 25

Canto 26

Canto 27

Canto 28

Canto 29

Canto 30

Canto 31

Canto 32

Canto 33

HELL

Canto 1

IN the midway of this our mortal life,

I found me in a gloomy wood, astray

Gone from the path direct: and e’en to tell

It were no easy task, how savage wild

That forest, how robust and rough its growth,

Which to remember only, my dismay

Renews, in bitterness not far from death.

Yet to discourse of what there good befell,

All else will I relate discover’d there.

How first I enter’d it I scarce can say,

Such sleepy dullness in that instant weigh’d

My senses down, when the true path I left,

But when a mountain’s foot I reach’d, where clos’d

The valley, that had pierc’d my heart with dread,

I look’d aloft, and saw his shoulders broad

Already vested with that planet’s beam,

Who leads all wanderers safe through every way.

Then was a little respite to the fear,

That in my heart’s recesses deep had lain,

All of that night, so pitifully pass’d:

And as a man, with difficult short breath,

Forespent with toiling, ’scap’d from sea to shore,

Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands

At gaze; e’en so my spirit, that yet fail’d

Struggling with terror, turn’d to view the straits,

That none hath pass’d and liv’d. My weary frame

After short pause recomforted, again

I journey’d on over that lonely steep,

The hinder foot still firmer. Scarce the ascent

Began, when, lo! a panther, nimble, light,

And cover’d with a speckled skin, appear’d,

Nor, when it saw me, vanish’d, rather strove

To check my onward going; that ofttimes

With purpose to retrace my steps I turn’d.

The hour was morning’s prime, and on his way

Aloft the sun ascended with those stars,

That with him rose, when Love divine first mov’d

Those its fair works: so that with joyous hope

All things conspir’d to fill me, the gay skin

Of that swift animal, the matin dawn

And the sweet season. Soon that joy was chas’d,

And by new dread succeeded, when in view

A lion came, ’gainst me, as it appear’d,

With his head held aloft and hunger-mad,

That e’en the air was fear-struck. A she-wolf

Was at his heels, who in her leanness seem’d

Full of all wants, and many a land hath made

Disconsolate ere now. She with such fear

O’erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall’d,

That of the height all hope I lost. As one,

Who with his gain elated, sees the time

When all unwares is gone, he inwardly

Mourns with heart-griping anguish; such was I,

Haunted by that fell beast, never at peace,

Who coming o’er against me, by degrees

Impell’d me where the sun in silence rests.

While to the lower space with backward step

I fell, my ken discern’d the form one of one,

Whose voice seem’d faint through long disuse of speech.

When him in that great desert I espied,

“Have mercy on me!” cried I out aloud,

“Spirit! or living man! what e’er thou be!”

He answer’d: “Now not man, man once I was,

And born of Lombard parents, Mantuana both

By country, when the power of Julius yet

Was scarcely firm. At Rome my life was past

Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time

Of fabled deities and false. A bard

Was I, and made Anchises’ upright son

The subject of my song, who came from Troy,

When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.

But thou, say wherefore to such perils past

Return’st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount

Ascendest, cause and source of all delight?”

“And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring,

From which such copious floods of eloquence

Have issued?” I with front abash’d replied.

“Glory and light of all the tuneful train!

May it avail me that I long with zeal

Have sought thy volume, and with love immense

Have conn’d it o’er. My master thou and guide!

Thou he from whom alone I have deriv’d

That style, which for its beauty into fame

Exalts me. See the beast, from whom I fled.

O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!

For every vein and pulse throughout my frame

She hath made tremble.” He, soon as he saw

That I was weeping, answer’d, “Thou must needs

Another way pursue, if thou wouldst ’scape

From out that savage wilderness. This beast,

At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none

To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:

So bad and so accursed in her kind,

That never sated is her ravenous will,

Still after food more craving than before.

To many an animal in wedlock vile

She fastens, and shall yet to many more,

Until that greyhound come, who shall destroy

Her with sharp pain. He will not life support

By earth nor its base metals, but by love,

Wisdom, and virtue, and his land shall be

The land ’twixt either Feltro. In his might

Shall safety to Italia’s plains arise,

For whose fair realm, Camilla, virgin pure,

Nisus, Euryalus, and Turnus fell.

He with incessant chase through every town

Shall worry, until he to hell at length

Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.

I for thy profit pond’ring now devise,

That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide

Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,

Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see

Spirits of old tormented, who invoke

A second death; and those next view, who dwell

Content in fire, for that they hope to come,

Whene’er the time may be, among the blest,

Into whose regions if thou then desire

T’ ascend, a spirit worthier then I

Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,

Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King,

Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,

Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,

That to his city none through me should come.

He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds

His citadel and throne. O happy those,

Whom there he chooses!” I to him in few:

“Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,

I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse

I may escape) to lead me, where thou saidst,

That I Saint Peter’s gate may view, and those

Who as thou tell’st, are in such dismal plight.”

Onward he mov’d, I close his steps pursu’d.

Canto 2

NOW was the day departing, and the air,

Imbrown’d with shadows, from their toils releas’d

All animals on earth; and I alone

Prepar’d myself the conflict to sustain,

Both of sad pity, and that perilous road,

Which my unerring memory shall retrace.

O Muses! O high genius! now vouchsafe

Your aid! O mind! that all I saw hast kept

Safe in a written record, here thy worth

And eminent endowments come to proof.

I thus began: “Bard! thou who art my guide,

Consider well, if virtue be in me

Sufficient, ere to this high enterprise

Thou trust me. Thou hast told that Silvius’ sire,

Yet cloth’d in corruptible flesh, among

Th’ immortal tribes had entrance, and was there

Sensible present. Yet if heaven’s great Lord,

Almighty foe to ill, such favour shew’d,

In contemplation of the high effect,

Both what and who from him should issue forth,

It seems in reason’s judgment well deserv’d:

Sith he of Rome, and of Rome’s empire wide,

In heaven’s empyreal height was chosen sire:

Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain’d

And ’stablish’d for the holy place, where sits

Who to great Peter’s sacred chair succeeds.

He from this journey, in thy song renown’d,

Learn’d things, that to his victory gave rise

And to the papal robe. In after-times

The chosen vessel also travel’d there,

To bring us back assurance in that faith,

Which is the entrance to salvation’s way.

But I, why should I there presume? or who

Permits it? not, Aeneas I nor Paul.

Myself I deem not worthy, and none else

Will deem me. I, if on this voyage then

I venture, fear it will in folly end.

Thou, who art wise, better my meaning know’st,

Than I can speak.” As one, who unresolves

What he hath late resolv’d, and with new thoughts

Changes his purpose, from his first intent

Remov’d; e’en such was I on that dun coast,

Wasting in thought my enterprise, at first

So eagerly embrac’d. “If right thy words

I scan,” replied that shade magnanimous,

“Thy soul is by vile fear assail’d, which oft

So overcasts a man, that he recoils

From noblest resolution, like a beast

At some false semblance in the twilight gloom.

That from this terror thou mayst free thyself,

I will instruct thee why I came, and what

I heard in that same instant, when for thee

Grief touch’d me first. I was among the tribe,

Who rest suspended, when a dame, so blest

And lovely, I besought her to command,

Call’d me; her eyes were brighter than the star

Of day; and she with gentle voice and soft

Angelically tun’d her speech address’d:

“O courteous shade of Mantua! thou whose fame

Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts!

A friend, not of my fortune but myself,

On the wide desert in his road has met

Hindrance so great, that he through fear has turn’d.

Now much I dread lest he past help have stray’d,

And I be ris’n too late for his relief,

From what in heaven of him I heard. Speed now,

And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue,

And by all means for his deliverance meet,

Assist him. So to me will comfort spring.

I who now bid thee on this errand forth

Am Beatrice1; from a place I come

Revisited with joy. Love brought me thence,

Who prompts my speech. When in my Master’s sight

I stand, thy praise to him I oft will tell.”

She then was silent, and I thus began:

“O Lady! by whose influence alone,

Mankind excels whatever is contain’d

Within that heaven which hath the smallest orb,

So thy command delights me, that to obey,

If it were done already, would seem late.

No need hast thou farther to speak thy will;

Yet tell the reason, why thou art not loth

To leave that ample space, where to return

Thou burnest, for this centre here beneath.”

She then: “Since thou so deeply wouldst inquire,

I will instruct thee briefly, why no dread

Hinders my entrance here. Those things alone

Are to be fear’d, whence evil may proceed,

None else, for none are terrible beside.

I am so fram’d by God, thanks to his grace!

That any suff’rance of your misery

Touches me not, nor flame of that fierce fire

Assails me. In high heaven a blessed dame

Besides, who mourns with such effectual grief

That hindrance, which I send thee to remove,

That God’s stern judgment to her will inclines.

To Lucia calling, her she thus bespake:

“Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid

And I commend him to thee.” At her word

Sped Lucia, of all cruelty the foe,

And coming to the place, where I abode

Seated with Rachel, her of ancient days,

She thus address’d me: “Thou true praise of God!

Beatrice! why is not thy succour lent

To him, who so much lov’d thee, as to leave

For thy sake all the multitude admires?

Dost thou not hear how pitiful his wail,

Nor mark the death, which in the torrent flood,

Swoln mightier than a sea, him struggling holds?”

Ne’er among men did any with such speed

Haste to their profit, flee from their annoy,

As when these words were spoken, I came here,

Down from my blessed seat, trusting the force

Of thy pure eloquence, which thee, and all

Who well have mark’d it, into honour brings.”

“When she had ended, her bright beaming eyes

Tearful she turn’d aside; whereat I felt

Redoubled zeal to serve thee. As she will’d,

Thus am I come: I sav’d thee from the beast,

Who thy near way across the goodly mount

Prevented. What is this comes o’er thee then?

Why, why dost thou hang back? why in thy breast

Harbour vile fear? why hast not courage there

And noble daring? Since three maids so blest

Thy safety plan, e’en in the court of heaven;

And so much certain good my words forebode.”

As florets, by the frosty air of night

Bent down and clos’d, when day has blanch’d their leaves,

Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems;

So was my fainting vigour new restor’d,

And to my heart such kindly courage ran,

That I as one undaunted soon replied:

“O full of pity she, who undertook

My succour! and thou kind who didst perform

So soon her true behest! With such desire

Thou hast dispos’d me to renew my voyage,

That my first purpose fully is resum’d.

Lead on: one only will is in us both.

Thou art my guide, my master thou, and lord.”

So spake I; and when he had onward mov’d,

I enter’d on the deep and woody way.

Canto 3

“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:

Through me you pass into eternal pain:

Through me among the people lost for aye.

Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d:

To rear me was the task of power divine,

Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.

Before me things create were none, save things

Eternal, and eternal I endure.

All hope abandon ye who enter here.”

Such characters in colour dim I mark’d

Over a portal’s lofty arch inscrib’d:

Whereat I thus: “Master, these words import

Hard meaning.” He as one prepar’d replied:

“Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave;

Here be vile fear extinguish’d. We are come

Where I have told thee we shall see the souls

To misery doom’d, who intellectual good

Have lost.” And when his hand he had stretch’d forth

To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer’d,

Into that secret place he led me on.

Here sighs with lamentations and loud moans

Resounded through the air pierc’d by no star,

That e’en I wept at entering. Various tongues,

Horrible languages, outcries of woe,

Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse,

With hands together smote that swell’d the sounds,

Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls

Round through that air with solid darkness stain’d,

Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.

I then, with error yet encompass’d, cried:

“O master! What is this I hear? What race

Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?”

He thus to me: “This miserable fate

Suffer the wretched souls of those, who liv’d

Without or praise or blame, with that ill band

Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious prov’d

Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves

Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth,

Not to impair his lustre, nor the depth

Of Hell receives them, lest th’ accursed tribe

Should glory thence with exultation vain.”

I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus,

That they lament so loud?” He straight replied:

“That will I tell thee briefly. These of death

No hope may entertain: and their blind life

So meanly passes, that all other lots

They envy. Fame of them the world hath none,

Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both.

Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.”

And I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag,

Which whirling ran around so rapidly,

That it no pause obtain’d: and following came

Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er

Have thought, that death so many had despoil’d.

When some of these I recogniz’d, I saw

And knew the shade of him, who to base fear

Yielding, abjur’d his high estate. Forthwith

I understood for certain this the tribe

Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing

And to his foes. These wretches, who ne’er lived,

Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung

By wasps and hornets, which bedew’d their cheeks

With blood, that mix’d with tears dropp’d to their feet,

And by disgustful worms was gather’d there.

Then looking farther onwards I beheld

A throng upon the shore of a great stream:

Whereat I thus: “Sir! grant me now to know

Whom here we view, and whence impell’d they seem

So eager to pass o’er, as I discern

Through the blear light?” He thus to me in few:

“This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive

Beside the woeful tide of Acheron.”

Then with eyes downward cast and fill’d with shame,

Fearing my words offensive to his ear,

Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech

Abstain’d. And lo! toward us in a bark

Comes on an old man hoary white with eld,

Crying, “Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not

Ever to see the sky again. I come

To take you to the other shore across,

Into eternal darkness, there to dwell

In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there

Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave

These who are dead.” But soon as he beheld

I left them not, “By other way,” said he,

“By other haven shalt thou come to shore,

Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat

Must carry.” Then to him thus spake my guide:

“Charon! thyself torment not: so ’t is will’d,

Where will and power are one: ask thou no more.”

Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks

Of him the boatman o’er the livid lake,

Around whose eyes glar’d wheeling flames. Meanwhile

Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang’d,

And gnash’d their teeth, soon as the cruel words

They heard. God and their parents they blasphem’d,

The human kind, the place, the time, and seed

That did engender them and give them birth.

Then all together sorely wailing drew

To the curs’d strand, that every man must pass

Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form,

With eyes of burning coal, collects them all,

Beck’ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar

Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves,

One still another following, till the bough

Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;

E’en in like manner Adam’s evil brood

Cast themselves one by one down from the shore,

Each at a beck, as falcon at his call.

Thus go they over through the umber’d wave,

And ever they on the opposing bank

Be landed, on this side another throng

Still gathers. “Son,” thus spake the courteous guide,

“Those, who die subject to the wrath of God,

All here together come from every clime,

And to o’erpass the river are not loth:

For so heaven’s justice goads them on, that fear

Is turn’d into desire. Hence ne’er hath past

Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain,

Now mayst thou know the import of his words.”

This said, the gloomy region trembling shook

So terribly, that yet with clammy dews

Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast,

That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame,

Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I

Down dropp’d, as one with sudden slumber seiz’d.

Canto 4

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 5

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.

If 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 6

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 7

“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 if 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

Nore 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.

Canto 8

MY theme pursuing, I relate that ere

We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes

Its height ascended, where two cressets hung

We mark’d, and from afar another light

Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

The eye could catch its beam. I turning round

To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir’d:

“Say what this means? and what that other light

In answer set? what agency doth this?”

“There on the filthy waters,” he replied,

“E’en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,

If the marsh-gender’d fog conceal it not.”

Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d,

That ran its way so nimbly through the air,

As a small bark, that through the waves I spied

Toward us coming, under the sole sway

Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:

“Art thou arriv’d, fell spirit?” — “Phlegyas, Phlegyas,

This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;

“No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er

The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears

Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat

Inly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin’d

In his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp’d

Into the skiff, and bade me enter next

Close at his side; nor till my entrance seem’d

The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d,

Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,

More deeply than with others it is wont.

While we our course o’er the dead channel held.

One drench’d in mire before me came, and said;

“Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?”

I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not;

But who art thou, that art become so foul?”

“One, as thou seest, who mourn: “ he straight replied.

To which I thus: “ In mourning and in woe,

Curs’d spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

E’en thus in filth disguis’d.” Then stretch’d he forth

Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage

Aware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there

To the’ other dogs!” then, with his arms my neck

Encircling, kiss’d my cheek, and spake: “O soul

Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom

Thou was conceiv’d! He in the world was one

For arrogance noted; to his memory

No virtue lends its lustre; even so

Here is his shadow furious. There above

How many now hold themselves mighty kings

Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,

Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!”

I then: “Master! him fain would I behold

Whelm’d in these dregs, before we quit the lake.”

He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shore

Be offer’d, satisfied shall be that wish,

Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his words

Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes

Set on him with such violence, that yet

For that render I thanks to God and praise

“To Filippo Argenti:” cried they all:

And on himself the moody Florentine

Turn’d his avenging fangs. Him here we left,

Nor speak I of him more. But on mine ear

Sudden a sound of lamentation smote,

Whereat mine eye unbarr’d I sent abroad.

And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son!

Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam’d,

With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.”

I thus: “The minarets already, Sir!

There certes in the valley I descry,

Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire

Had issu’d.” He replied: “Eternal fire,

That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame

Illum’d; as in this nether hell thou seest.”

We came within the fosses deep, that moat

This region comfortless. The walls appear’d

As they were fram’d of iron. We had made

Wide circuit, ere a place we reach’d, where loud

The mariner cried vehement: “Go forth!

The’ entrance is here!” Upon the gates I spied

More than a thousand, who of old from heaven

Were hurl’d. With ireful gestures, “Who is this,”

They cried, “that without death first felt, goes through

The regions of the dead?” My sapient guide

Made sign that he for secret parley wish’d;

Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus

They spake: “Come thou alone; and let him go

Who hath so hardily enter’d this realm.

Alone return he by his witless way;

If well he know it, let him prove. For thee,

Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark

Hast been his escort.” Now bethink thee, reader!

What cheer was mine at sound of those curs’d words.

I did believe I never should return.

“O my lov’d guide! who more than seven times

Security hast render’d me, and drawn

From peril deep, whereto I stood expos’d,

Desert me not,” I cried, “in this extreme.

And if our onward going be denied,

Together trace we back our steps with speed.”

My liege, who thither had conducted me,

Replied: “Fear not: for of our passage none

Hath power to disappoint us, by such high

Authority permitted. But do thou

Expect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spirit

Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur’d

I will not leave thee in this lower world.”

This said, departs the sire benevolent,

And quits me. Hesitating I remain

At war ’twixt will and will not in my thoughts.

I could not hear what terms he offer’d them,

But they conferr’d not long, for all at once

To trial fled within. Clos’d were the gates

By those our adversaries on the breast

Of my liege lord: excluded he return’d