Array Dante Alighieri - Harvard Classics Volume 20

And wear the body I have ever worn.

But who are ye, from whom such mighty grief,

As now I witness, courseth down your cheeks?

What torment breaks forth in this bitter woe?”

“Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue,”

One of them answer’d, “are so leaden gross,

That with their weight they make the balances

To crack beneath them. Joyous friars [156]we were,

Bologna’s natives; Catalano I,

He Loderingo named; and by thy land

Together taken, as men used to take

A single and indifferent arbiter,

To reconcile their strifes. How there we sped,

Gardingo’s vicinage [157]can best declare.”

“O friars!” I began, “your miseries—”

But there brake off, for one had caught mine eye,

Fix’d to a cross with three stakes on the ground:

He, when he saw me, writhed himself, throughout

Distorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard.

And Catalano, who thereof was ’ware,

Thus spake: “That pierced spirit, [158]whom intent

Thou view’st, was he who gave the Pharisees

Counsel, that it were fitting for one man

To suffer for the people. He doth lie

Transverse; nor any passes, but him first

Behoves make feeling trial how each weighs.

In straits like this along the foss are placed

The father of his consort, [159]and the rest

Partakers in that council, seed of ill

And sorrow to the Jews.” I noted then,

How Virgil gazed with wonder upon him,

Thus abjectly extended on the cross

In banishment eternal. To the friar

He next his words address’d: “We pray ye tell,

If so be lawful, whether on our right

Lies any opening in the rock, whereby

We both may issue hence, without constraint

On the dark angels, that compell’d they come

To lead us from this depth.” He thus replied:

“Nearer than thou dost hope, there is a rock

From the great circle moving, which o’ersteps

Each vale of horror, save that here his cope

Is shatter’d. By the ruin ye may mount:

For on the side it slants, and most the height

Rises below.” With head bent down awhile

My leader stood; then spake: “He warn’d us ill,

Who yonder hangs the sinners on his hook.”

To whom the friar: “At Bologna erst

I many vices of the Devil heard;

Among the rest was said, ‘He is a liar,

And the father of lies!’” When he had spoke,

My leader with large strides proceeded on,

Somewhat disturb’d with anger in his look.

I therefore left the spirits heavy laden,

And, following, his beloved footsteps mark’d.

Argument.—Under the escort of his faithful master, Dante not without difficulty makes his way out of the sixth gulf; and in the seventh, sees the robbers tormented by venomous and pestilent serpents. The soul of Vanni Fucci, who had pillaged the sacristy of St. James in Pistoia, predicts some calamities that impended over that city, and over the Florentines.

In the year’s early nonage, [160]when the sun

Tempers his tresses in Aquarius’ urn,

And now toward equal day the nights recede;

Whenas the rime upon the earth puts on

Her dazzling sister’s image, but not long

Her milder sway endures; then riseth up

The village hind, whom fails his wintry store,

And looking out beholds the plain around

All whiten’d; whence impatiently he smites

His thighs, and to his hut returning in,

There paces to and fro, wailing his lot,

As a discomfited and helpless man;

Then comes he forth again, and feels new hope

Spring in his bosom, finding e’en thus soon

The world hath changed its countenance, grasps his crook,

And forth to pasture drives his little flock:

So me my guide dishearten’d, when I saw

His troubled forehead; and so speedily

That ill was cured; for at the fallen bridge

Arriving, toward me with a look as sweet,

He turn’d him back, as that I first beheld

At the steep mountain’s foot. Regarding well

The ruin, and some counsel first maintain’d

With his own thought, he opened wide his arm

And took me up. As one, who, while he works,

Computes his labor’s issue, that he seems

Still to foresee the effect; so lifting me

Up to the summit of one peak, he fix’d

His eye upon another. “Grapple that,”

Said he, “but first make proof, if it be such

As will sustain thee.” For one capt with lead

This were no journey. Scarcely he, though light,

And I, though onward push’d from crag to crag,

Could mount. And if the precinct of this coast

Were not less ample than the last, for him

I know not, but my strength had surely fail’d.

But Malebolge all toward the mouth

Inclining of the nethermost abyss,

The site of every valley hence requires,

That one side upward slope, the other fall.

At length the point from whence the utmost stone

Juts down, we reach’d; soon as to that arrived,

So was the breath exhausted from my lungs

I could no further, but did seat me there.

“Now needs thy best of man;” so spake my guide:

“For not on downy plumes, nor under shade

Of canopy reposing, fame is won;

Without which whosoe’r consumes his days,

Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth,

As smoke in air or foam upon the wave.

Thou therefore rise: vanquish thy weariness

By the mind’s effort, in each struggle form’d

To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight

Of her corporeal frame to crush her down.

A longer ladder yet remains to scale.

From these to have escaped sufficeth not,

If well thou note me, profit by my words.”

I straightway rose, and show’d myself less spent

That I in truth did feel me. “On,” I cried,

“For I am stout and fearless.” Up the rock

Our way we held, more rugged than before,

Narrower, and steeper far to climb. From talk

I ceased not, as we journey’d, so to seem

Least faint; whereat a voice from the other foss

Did issue forth, for utterance suited ill.

Though on the arch that crosses there I stood,

What were the words I knew not, but who spake

Seem’d moved in anger. Down I stoop’d to look;

But my quick eye might reach not to the depth

For shrouding darkness; wherefore thus I spake:

“To the next circle, teacher, bend thy steps,

And from the wall dismount we; for as hence

I hear and understand not, so I see

Beneath, and naught discern.” “I answer not,”

Said he, “but by the deed. To fair request

Silent performance maketh best return.”

We from the bridge’s head descended, where

To the eighth mound it joins; and then, the chasm

Opening to view, I saw a crowd within

Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape

And hideous, that remembrance in my veins

Yet shrinks the vital current. Of her sands

Let Libya vaunt no more: if Jaculus,

Pareas and Chelyder be her brood,

Cenchris and Amphisbæna, plagues so dire

Or in such numbers swarming ne’er she show’d,

Not with all Ethiopia, and whate’er

Above the Erythræan sea is spawn’d.

Amid this dread exuberance of woe

Ran naked spirits wing’d with horrid fear,

Nor hope had they of crevice where to hide,

Or heliotrope to charm them out of view.

With serpents were their hands behind them bound,

Which through their reins infix’d the tail and head,

Twisted in folds before. And lo! on one

Near to our side, darted an adder up,

And, where the neck is on the shoulders tied,

Transpierced him. Far more quickly than e’er pen