| |
| SOON as the charity of native land | |
| Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter’d leaves | |
| Collected, and to him restored, who now | |
| Was hoarse with utterance. To the limit thence | |
| We came, which from the third the second round | 5 |
| Divides, and where of justice is display’d | |
| Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen | |
| Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next | |
| A plain we reach’d, that from its sterile bed | |
| Each plant repell’d. The mournful wood waves round | 10 |
| Its garland on all sides, as round the wood | |
| Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge, | |
| Our steps we stay’d. It was an area wide | |
| Of arid sand and thick, resembling most | |
| The soil that erst by Cato’s foot was trod. | 15 |
| Vengeance of heaven! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear’d | |
| By all, who read what here mine eyes beheld. | |
| Of naked spirits many a flock I saw, | |
| All weeping piteously, to different laws | |
| Subjected; for on the earth some lay supine, | 20 |
| Some crouching close were seated, others paced | |
| Incessantly around; the latter tribe | |
| More numerous, those fewer who beneath | |
| The torment lay, but louder in their grief. | |
| O’er all the sand fell slowly wafting down | 25 |
| Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow | |
| On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush’d. | |
| As, in the torrid Indian clime, the son | |
| Of Ammon saw, upon his warrior band | |
| Descending, solid flames, that to the ground | 30 |
| Came down; whence he bethought him with his troop | |
| To trample on the soil; for easier thus | |
| The vapor was extinguish’d, while alone: | |
| So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith | |
| The marle glow’d underneath, as under stove | 35 |
| The viands, doubly to augment the pain. | |
| Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, | |
| Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off | |
| The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began: | |
| “Instructor! thou who all things overcomest, | 40 |
| Except the hardy demons that rush’d forth | |
| To stop our entrance at the gate, say who | |
| Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not | |
| The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, | |
| As by the sultry tempest immatured?” | 45 |
| Straight he himself, who was aware I ask’d | |
| My guide of him, exclaim’d: “Such as I was | |
| When living, dead such now I am. If Jove | |
| Weary his workman out, from whom in ire | |
| He snatch’d the lightnings, that at my last day | 50 |
| Transfix’d me; if the rest he weary out, | |
| At their black smithy laboring by turns, | |
| In Mongibello, while he cries aloud, | |
| ‘Help, help, good Mulciber!’ as erst he cried | |
| In the Phlegræan warfare; and the bolts | 55 |
| Launch he, full aim’d at me, with all his might; | |
| He never should enjoy a sweet revenge.” | |
| Then thus my guide, in accent higher raised | |
| Than I before had heard him: “Capaneus! | |
| Thou art more punish’d, in that this thy pride | 60 |
| Lives yet unquench’d: no torment, save thy rage, | |
| Were to thy fury pain proportion’d full.” | |
| Next turning round to me, with milder lip | |
| He spake: “This of the seven kings was one, | |
| Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held, | 65 |
| As still he seems to hold, God in disdain, | |
| And sets His high omnipotence at naught. | |
| But, as I told him, his despiteful mood | |
| Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it. | |
| Follow me now; and look thou set not yet | 70 |
| Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood | |
| Keep ever close.” Silently on we pass’d | |
| To where there gushes from the forest’s bound | |
| A little brook, whose crimson’d wave yet lifts | |
| My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs | 75 |
| From Bulicame, 1 to be portion’d out | |
| Among the sinful women, so ran this | |
| Down through the sand; its bottom and each bank | |
| Stone-built, and either margin at its side, | |
| Whereon I straight perceived our passage lay. | 80 |
| “Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate | |
| We enter’d first, whose threshold is to none | |
| Denied, naught else so worthy of regard, | |
| As is this river, has thine eye discern’d, | |
| O’er which the flaming volley all is quench’d.” | 85 |
| So spake my guide; and I him thence besought, | |
| That having given me appetite to know, | |
| The food he too would give, that hunger craved. | |
| “In midst of ocean,” forthwith he began, | |
| “A desolate country lies, which Crete is named; | 90 |
| Under whose monarch, in old times, the world | |
| Lived pure and chaste. A mountain rises there, | |
| Call’d Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams, | |
| Deserted now like a forbidden thing. | |
| It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn’s spouse, | 95 |
| Chose for the secret cradle of her son; | |
| And better to conceal him, drown’d in shouts | |
| His infant cries. Within the mount, upright | |
| An ancient form there stands, and huge, that turns | |
| His shoulders toward Damiata; and at Rome, | 100 |
| As in his mirror, looks. Of finest gold | |
| His head is shaped, pure silver are the breast | |
| And arms, thence to the middle is of brass, | |
| And downward all beneath well-temper’d steel, | |
| Save the right foot of potter’s clay, on which | 105 |
| Than on the other more erect he stands. | |
| Each part, except the gold, is rent throughout; | |
| And from the fissure tears distil, which join’d | |
| Penetrate to that cave. They in their course, | |
| Thus far precipitated down the rock, | 110 |
| Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon; | |
| Then by this straiten’d channel passing hence | |
| Beneath e’en to the lowest depth of all, | |
| Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself | |
| Shalt see it) I here give thee no account.” | 115 |
| Then I to him: “If from our world this sluice | |
| Be thus derived; wherefore to us but now | |
| Appears it at this edge?” He straight replied: | |
| “The place, thou know’st, is round: and though great part | |
| Thou have already past, still to the left | 120 |
| Descending to the nethermost, not yet | |
| Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb. | |
| Wherefore, if aught of new to us appear, | |
| It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks.” | |
| Then I again inquired: “Where flow the streams | 125 |
| Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one | |
| Thou tell’st not; and the other, of that shower, | |
| Thou say’st, is form’d.” He answer thus return’d: | |
| “Doubtless thy questions all well pleased I hear. | |
| Yet the red seething wave 2 might have resolved | 130 |
| One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see, | |
| But not within this hollow, in the place | |
| Whither, 3 to lave themselves, the spirits go, | |
| Whose blame hath been by penitence removed.” | |
| He added: “Time is now we quit the wood. | 135 |
| Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give | |
| Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames; | |
| For over them all vapor is extinct.” | |
