Dante Alighieri - The Divine Comedy

This warning added: "See thy words be clear!"

He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,

Ey'd me a space, then in disdainful mood

Address'd me: "Say, what ancestors were thine?"

I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd

The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow

Somewhat uplifting, cried: "Fiercely were they

Adverse to me, my party, and the blood

From whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroad

Scatter'd them." "Though driv'n out, yet they each time

From all parts," answer'd I, "return'd; an art

Which yours have shown, they are not skill'd to learn."

Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,

Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin,

Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais'd.

It look'd around, as eager to explore

If there were other with me; but perceiving

That fond imagination quench'd, with tears

Thus spake: "If thou through this blind prison go'st.

Led by thy lofty genius and profound,

Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?"

I straight replied: "Not of myself I come,

By him, who there expects me, through this clime

Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son

Had in contempt." Already had his words

And mode of punishment read me his name,

Whence I so fully answer'd. He at once

Exclaim'd, up starting, "How! said'st thou he HAD?

No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye

The blessed daylight?" Then of some delay

I made ere my reply aware, down fell

Supine, not after forth appear'd he more.

Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom

I yet was station'd, chang'd not count'nance stern,

Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.

"And if," continuing the first discourse,

"They in this art," he cried, "small skill have shown,

That doth torment me more e'en than this bed.

But not yet fifty times shall be relum'd

Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm,

Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.

So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,

As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws,

Against my kin this people is so fell?"

"The slaughter and great havoc," I replied,

"That colour'd Arbia's flood with crimson stain—

To these impute, that in our hallow'd dome

Such orisons ascend." Sighing he shook

The head, then thus resum'd: "In that affray

I stood not singly, nor without just cause

Assuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;

But singly there I stood, when by consent

Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz'd,

The one who openly forbad the deed."

"So may thy lineage find at last repose,"

I thus adjur'd him, "as thou solve this knot,

Which now involves my mind. If right I hear,

Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time

Leads with him, of the present uninform'd."

"We view, as one who hath an evil sight,"

He answer'd, "plainly, objects far remote:

So much of his large spendour yet imparts

The Almighty Ruler; but when they approach

Or actually exist, our intellect

Then wholly fails, nor of your human state

Except what others bring us know we aught.

Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all

Our knowledge in that instant shall expire,

When on futurity the portals close."

Then conscious of my fault, and by remorse

Smitten, I added thus: "Now shalt thou say

To him there fallen, that his offspring still

Is to the living join'd; and bid him know,

That if from answer silent I abstain'd,

'Twas that my thought was occupied intent

Upon that error, which thy help hath solv'd."

But now my master summoning me back

I heard, and with more eager haste besought

The spirit to inform me, who with him

Partook his lot. He answer thus return'd:

"More than a thousand with me here are laid

Within is Frederick, second of that name,

And the Lord Cardinal, and of the rest

I speak not." He, this said, from sight withdrew.

But I my steps towards the ancient bard

Reverting, ruminated on the words

Betokening me such ill. Onward he mov'd,

And thus in going question'd: "Whence the amaze

That holds thy senses wrapt?" I satisfied

The inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:

"Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard

To thee importing harm; and note thou this,"

With his rais'd finger bidding me take heed,

"When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam,

Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life

The future tenour will to thee unfold."

Forthwith he to the left hand turn'd his feet:

We left the wall, and tow'rds the middle space

Went by a path, that to a valley strikes;

Which e'en thus high exhal'd its noisome steam.

UPON the utmost verge of a high bank,

By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came,

Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow'd:

And here to shun the horrible excess

Of fetid exhalation, upward cast

From the profound abyss, behind the lid

Of a great monument we stood retir'd,

Whereon this scroll I mark'd: "I have in charge

Pope Anastasius, whom Photinus drew

From the right path.—Ere our descent behooves

We make delay, that somewhat first the sense,

To the dire breath accustom'd, afterward

Regard it not." My master thus; to whom

Answering I spake: "Some compensation find

That the time past not wholly lost." He then:

"Lo! how my thoughts e'en to thy wishes tend!

My son! within these rocks," he thus began,

"Are three close circles in gradation plac'd,

As these which now thou leav'st. Each one is full

Of spirits accurs'd; but that the sight alone

Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how

And for what cause in durance they abide.

"Of all malicious act abhorr'd in heaven,

The end is injury; and all such end

Either by force or fraud works other's woe

But fraud, because of man peculiar evil,

To God is more displeasing; and beneath

The fraudulent are therefore doom'd to' endure

Severer pang. The violent occupy

All the first circle; and because to force

Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds

Each within other sep'rate is it fram'd.

To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man

Force may be offer'd; to himself I say

And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear

At full. Death, violent death, and painful wounds

Upon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastes

By devastation, pillage, and the flames,

His substance. Slayers, and each one that smites

In malice, plund'rers, and all robbers, hence

The torment undergo of the first round

In different herds. Man can do violence

To himself and his own blessings: and for this

He in the second round must aye deplore

With unavailing penitence his crime,

Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light,

In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,

And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy.

To God may force be offer'd, in the heart

Denying and blaspheming his high power,

And nature with her kindly law contemning.

And thence the inmost round marks with its seal

Sodom and Cahors, and all such as speak

Contemptuously of the Godhead in their hearts.

"Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting,

May be by man employ'd on one, whose trust

He wins, or on another who withholds

Strict confidence. Seems as the latter way

Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes.

Whence in the second circle have their nest

Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries,