{"collection":"chr","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/chr/dante/in14.htm","path":"chr/dante/in14.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/chr/dante/in14.htm","text":"Sacred Texts\u00a0\n Christianity Index\u00a0\n Divine Comedy Index\u00a0\n Previous: Inferno Canto 13\u00a0\n Next: Inferno Canto 15\u00a0\n \n \n \n Canto XIV\n \n \n Argument\n \n \n They arrive at the beginning of the third of those compartments into\n which this seventh circle is divided. It is a plain of dry and hot sand, where\n three kinds of violence are punished; namely, against God, against Nature, and\n against Art; and those who have thus sinned, are tormented by flakes of fire,\n which are eternally showering down upon them. Among the violent against God is\n found Capaneus, whose blasphemies they hear. Next, turning to the left along\n the forest of self - slayers, and having journeyed a little onward, they meet\n with a streamlet of blood that issues from the forest and traverses the sandy\n plain. Here Virgil speaks to our Poet of a huge ancient statue that stands\n within Mount Ida in Crete, from a fissure in which statue there is a dripping\n of tears, from which the said streamlet, together with the three other\n infernal rivers, are formed.\n \n \n Soon as the charity of native land\n Wrought in my bosom, I the scatter'd leaves\n Collected, and to him restored, who now\n Was hoarse with utterance. To the limit thence\n We came, which from the third the second round\n Divides, and where of justice is display'd\n Contrivance horrible. Things then first seen\n Clearlier to manifest, I tell how next\n A plain we reach'd, that from its sterile bed\n Each plant repell'd. The mournful wood waves round\n Its garland on all sides, as round the wood\n Spreads the sad foss. There, on the very edge,\n Our steps we stay'd. It was an area wide\n Of arid sand and thick, resembling most\n The soil that erst by Cato's foot was trod.\n \n \n Vengeance of heaven! Oh! how shouldst thou be fear'd\n By all, who read what here mine eyes beheld.\n \n \n Of naked spirits many a flock I saw,\n All weeping piteously, to different laws\n Subjected; for on the earth some lay supine,\n Some crouching close were seated, others paced\n Incessantly around; the latter tribe\n More numerous, those fewer who beneath\n The torment lay, but louder in their grief.\n \n \n O'er all the sand fell slowly wafting down\n Dilated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow\n On Alpine summit, when the wind is hush'd.\n As, in the torrid Indian clime, the son\n Of Ammon saw, upon his warrior band\n Descending, solid flames, that to the ground\n Came down; whence he bethought him with his troop\n To trample on the soil; for easier thus\n The vapor was extinguish'd, while alone:\n So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith\n The marle glow'd underneath, as under stove\n The viands, doubly to augment the pain.\n Unceasing was the play of wretched hands,\n Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off\n The heat, still falling fresh. I thus began:\n \"Instructor! thou who all things overcomest,\n Except the hardy demons that rush'd forth\n To stop our entrance at the gate, say who\n Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not\n The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn,\n As by the sultry tempest immatured?\"\n \n \n \n \n Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'd\n My guide of him, exclaim'd: \"Such as I was\n When living, dead such now I am. If Jove\n Weary his workman out, from whom in ire\n He snatch'd the lightnings, that at my last day\n Transfix'd me; if the rest he weary out,\n At their black smithy laboring by turns,\n In Mongibello, while he cries aloud,\n 'Help, help, good Mulciber!' as erst he cried\n In the Phlegraean warfare; and the bolts\n Launch he, full aim'd at me, with all his might;\n He never should enjoy a sweet revenge.\"\n \n \n Then thus my guide, in accent higher raised\n Than I before had heard him: \"Capaneus!\n Thou art more punish'd, in that this thy pride\n Lives yet unquench'd: no torment, save thy rage,\n Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full.\"\n \n \n Next turning round to me, with milder lip\n He spake: \"This of the seven kings was one,\n Who girt the Theban walls with siege, and held,\n As still he seems to hold, God in disdain,\n And sets His high omnipotence at naught.\n But, as I told him, his despiteful mood\n Is ornament well suits the breast that wears it.\n Follow me now; and look thou set not yet\n Thy foot in the hot sand, but to the wood\n Keep ever close.\" Silently on we pass'd\n To where there gushes from the forest's bound\n A little brook, whose crimson'd wave yet lifts\n My hair with horror. As the rill, that runs\n From Bulicame,[1] to be portion'd out\n Among the sinful women, so ran this\n Down through the sand; its bottom and each bank\n Stone - built, and either margin at its side,\n Whereon I straight perceived our passage lay.\n \n \n [1: A warm medicinal spring near Viterbo; the waters of which, as\n Landino and Vellutelli affirm, passed by a place of ill - fame. Venturi\n conjectures that Dante would imply that it was the scene of licentious\n merriment among those who frequented its baths.]\n \n \n \"Of all that I have shown thee, since that gate\n We enter'd first, whose threshold is to none\n Denied, naught else so worthy of regard,\n As is this river, has thine eye discern'd,\n O'er which the flaming volley all is quench'd.\"\n \n \n So spake my guide; and I him thence besought,\n That having given me appetite to know,\n The food he too would give, that hunger craved.\n \n \n \"In midst of ocean,\" forthwith he began,\n \"A desolate country lies, which Crete is named;\n Under whose monarch, in old times, the world\n Lived pure and chaste. A mountain rises there,\n Call'd Ida, joyous once with leaves and streams,\n Deserted now like a forbidden thing.\n It was the spot which Rhea, Saturn's spouse,\n Chose for the secret cradle of her son;\n And better to conceal him, drown'd in shouts\n His infant cries. Within the mount, upright\n An ancient form there stands, and huge, that turns\n His shoulders toward Damiata; and at Rome,\n As in his mirror, looks. Of finest gold\n His head is shaped, pure silver are the breast\n And arms, thence to the middle is of brass,\n And downward all beneath well - temper'd steel,\n Save the right foot of potter's clay, on which\n Than on the other more erect he stands.\n Each part, except the gold, is rent throughout;\n And from the fissure tears distil, which join'd\n Penetrate to that cave. They in their course,\n Thus far precipitated down the rock,\n Form Acheron, and Styx, and Phlegethon;\n Then by this straiten'd channel passing hence\n Beneath e'en to the lowest depth of all,\n Form there Cocytus, of whose lake (thyself\n Shalt see it) I here give thee no account.\"\n \n \n Then I to him: \"If from our world this sluice\n Be thus derived; wherefore to us but now\n Appears it at this edge?\" He straight replied:\n \"The place, thou know'st, is round: and though great part\n Thou have already past, still to the left\n Descending to the nethermost, not yet\n Hast thou the circuit made of the whole orb.\n Wherefore, if aught of new to us appear,\n It needs not bring up wonder in thy looks.\"\n \n \n Then I again inquired: \"Where flow the streams\n Of Phlegethon and Lethe? for of one\n Thou tell'st not; and the other, of that shower,\n Thou say'st, is form'd.\" He answer thus return'd:\n \"Doubtless thy questions all well pleased I hear.\n Yet the red seething wave[2] might have resolved\n One thou proposest. Lethe thou shalt see,\n But not within this hollow, in the place\n Whither,[3] to lave themselves, the spirits go,\n Whose blame hath been by penitence removed.\"\n He added: \"Time is now we quit the wood.\n Look thou my steps pursue: the margins give\n Safe passage, unimpeded by the flames;\n For over them all vapor is extinct.\"\n \n \n [2: Phlegethon.]\n \n \n [3: The other side of Purgatory]","title":"In14","type":"page"}