Array Dante Alighieri - Harvard Classics Volume 20

Deprived, and set them at this strife, which needs

No labor’d phrase of mine to set it off.

Now mayst 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 these 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

None intermission: by necessity

She is made swift, so frequent come who claim

Succession in her favors. 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

Sluiced 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 named, expands

The dismal stream, when it hath reach’d the foot

Of the gray wither’d cliffs. Intent I stood

To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

Betokening 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.

Argument.—A signal having been made from the tower, Phlegyas, the ferryman of the lake, speedily crosses it, and conveys Virgil and Dante to the other side. On their passage, they meet with Filippo Argenti, whose fury and torment are described. They then arrive at the city of Dis, the entrance whereto is denied, and the portals closed against them by many Demons.

My theme pursuing, I relate, that ere

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

Its height ascended, where we mark’d uphung

Two cressets, and another saw from far

Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

The eye could catch its beam. I, turning round

To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquired:

“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-gendered 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 arrived, fell spirit?”—“Phlegyas, Phlegyas, [49]

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 pined

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 thus 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,

Curst spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

E’en thus in filth disguised.” 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 wast conceived. 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!” [50]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 named,

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 issued.” He replied: “Eternal fire,

That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame

Illumed; as in this nether Hell thou seest.”

We came within the fosses deep, that moat

This region comfortless. The walls appear’d