{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8787/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8787","id":"gutenberg_8787","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8787","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Classics of Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Poetry","Epic poetry, Italian -- Translations into English","Hell -- Poetry","Italian poetry -- To 1400 -- Translations into English"],"text":"Produced by David Widger\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE VISION\n\nOF\n\nHELL, PURGATORY, AND PARADISE\n\n\n\nBY\n\nDANTE ALIGHIERI\n\n\n\nTRANSLATED BY\n\nTHE REV. H. F. CARY, M.A.\n\n\n\nHELL\n\nOR THE INFERNO\n\n\nPart 9\n\n\nCantos 29 - 31\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXIX\n\nSO were mine eyes inebriate with view\nOf the vast multitude, whom various wounds\nDisfigur'd, that they long'd to stay and weep.\n\nBut Virgil rous'd me: \"What yet gazest on?\nWherefore doth fasten yet thy sight below\nAmong the maim'd and miserable shades?\nThou hast not shewn in any chasm beside\nThis weakness.  Know, if thou wouldst number them\nThat two and twenty miles the valley winds\nIts circuit, and already is the moon\nBeneath our feet: the time permitted now\nIs short, and more not seen remains to see.\"\n\n\"If thou,\" I straight replied, \"hadst weigh'd the cause\nFor which I look'd, thou hadst perchance excus'd\nThe tarrying still.\"  My leader part pursu'd\nHis way, the while I follow'd, answering him,\nAnd adding thus: \"Within that cave I deem,\nWhereon so fixedly I held my ken,\nThere is a spirit dwells, one of my blood,\nWailing the crime that costs him now so dear.\"\n\nThen spake my master: \"Let thy soul no more\nAfflict itself for him.  Direct elsewhere\nIts thought, and leave him.  At the bridge's foot\nI mark'd how he did point with menacing look\nAt thee, and heard him by the others nam'd\nGeri of Bello.  Thou so wholly then\nWert busied with his spirit, who once rul'd\nThe towers of Hautefort, that thou lookedst not\nThat way, ere he was gone.\"--\"O guide belov'd!\nHis violent death yet unaveng'd,\" said I,\n\"By any, who are partners in his shame,\nMade him contemptuous: therefore, as I think,\nHe pass'd me speechless by; and doing so\nHath made me more compassionate his fate.\"\n\nSo we discours'd to where the rock first show'd\nThe other valley, had more light been there,\nE'en to the lowest depth.  Soon as we came\nO'er the last cloister in the dismal rounds\nOf Malebolge, and the brotherhood\nWere to our view expos'd, then many a dart\nOf sore lament assail'd me, headed all\nWith points of thrilling pity, that I clos'd\nBoth ears against the volley with mine hands.\n\nAs were the torment, if each lazar-house\nOf Valdichiana, in the sultry time\n'Twixt July and September, with the isle\nSardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen,\nHad heap'd their maladies all in one foss\nTogether; such was here the torment: dire\nThe stench, as issuing steams from fester'd limbs.\n\nWe on the utmost shore of the long rock\nDescended still to leftward.  Then my sight\nWas livelier to explore the depth, wherein\nThe minister of the most mighty Lord,\nAll-searching Justice, dooms to punishment\nThe forgers noted on her dread record.\n\nMore rueful was it not methinks to see\nThe nation in Aegina droop, what time\nEach living thing, e'en to the little worm,\nAll fell, so full of malice was the air\n(And afterward, as bards of yore have told,\nThe ancient people were restor'd anew\nFrom seed of emmets) than was here to see\nThe spirits, that languish'd through the murky vale\nUp-pil'd on many a stack.  Confus'd they lay,\nOne o'er the belly, o'er the shoulders one\nRoll'd of another; sideling crawl'd a third\nAlong the dismal pathway.  Step by step\nWe journey'd on, in silence looking round\nAnd list'ning those diseas'd, who strove in vain\nTo lift their forms.  Then two I mark'd, that sat\nPropp'd 'gainst each other, as two brazen pans\nSet to retain the heat.  From head to foot,\nA tetter bark'd them round. Nor saw I e'er\nGroom currying so fast, for whom his lord\nImpatient waited, or himself perchance\nTir'd with long watching, as of these each one\nPlied quickly his keen nails, through furiousness\nOf ne'er abated pruriency.  The crust\nCame drawn from underneath in flakes, like scales\nScrap'd from the bream or fish of broader mail.\n\n\"O thou, who with thy fingers rendest off\nThy coat of proof,\" thus spake my guide to one,\n\"And sometimes makest tearing pincers of them,\nTell me if any born of Latian land\nBe among these within: so may thy nails\nServe thee for everlasting to this toil.\"\n\n\"Both are of Latium,\" weeping he replied,\n\"Whom tortur'd thus thou seest: but who art thou\nThat hast inquir'd of us?\"  To whom my guide:\n\"One that descend with this man, who yet lives,\nFrom rock to rock, and show him hell's abyss.\"\n\nThen started they asunder, and each turn'd\nTrembling toward us, with the rest, whose ear\nThose words redounding struck.  To me my liege\nAddress'd him: \"Speak to them whate'er thou list.\"\n\nAnd I therewith began: \"So may no time\nFilch your remembrance from the thoughts of men\nIn th' upper world, but after many suns\nSurvive it, as ye tell me, who ye are,\nAnd of what race ye come.  Your punishment,\nUnseemly and disgustful in its kind,\nDeter you not from opening thus much to me.\"\n\n\"Arezzo was my dwelling,\" answer'd one,\n\"And me Albero of Sienna brought\nTo die by fire; but that, for which I died,\nLeads me not here.  True is in sport I told him,\nThat I had learn'd to wing my flight in air.\nAnd he admiring much, as he was void\nOf wisdom, will'd me to declare to him\nThe secret of mine art: and only hence,\nBecause I made him not a Daedalus,\nPrevail'd on one suppos'd his sire to burn me.\nBut Minos to this chasm last of the ten,\nFor that I practis'd alchemy on earth,\nHas doom'd me.  Him no subterfuge eludes.\"\n\nThen to the bard I spake: \"Was ever race\nLight as Sienna's?  Sure not France herself\nCan show a tribe so frivolous and vain.\"\n\nThe other leprous spirit heard my words,\nAnd thus return'd: \"Be Stricca from this charge\nExempted, he who knew so temp'rately\nTo lay out fortune's gifts; and Niccolo\nWho first the spice's costly luxury\nDiscover'd in that garden, where such seed\nRoots deepest in the soil: and be that troop\nExempted, with whom Caccia of Asciano\nLavish'd his vineyards and wide-spreading woods,\nAnd his rare wisdom Abbagliato show'd\nA spectacle for all.  That thou mayst know\nWho seconds thee against the Siennese\nThus gladly, bend this way thy sharpen'd sight,\nThat well my face may answer to thy ken;\nSo shalt thou see I am Capocchio's ghost,\nWho forg'd transmuted metals by the power\nOf alchemy; and if I scan thee right,\nThus needs must well remember how I aped\nCreative nature by my subtle art.\"\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXX\n\nWHAT time resentment burn'd in Juno's breast\nFor Semele against the Theban blood,\nAs more than once in dire mischance was rued,\nSuch fatal frenzy seiz'd on Athamas,\nThat he his spouse beholding with a babe\nLaden on either arm, \"Spread out,\" he cried,\n\"The meshes, that I take the lioness\nAnd the young lions at the pass:\" then forth\nStretch'd he his merciless talons, grasping one,\nOne helpless innocent, Learchus nam'd,\nWhom swinging down he dash'd upon a rock,\nAnd with her other burden self-destroy'd\nThe hapless mother plung'd: and when the pride\nOf all-presuming Troy fell from its height,\nBy fortune overwhelm'd, and the old king\nWith his realm perish'd, then did Hecuba,\nA wretch forlorn and captive, when she saw\nPolyxena first slaughter'd, and her son,\nHer Polydorus, on the wild sea-beach\nNext met the mourner's view, then reft of sense\nDid she run barking even as a dog;\nSuch mighty power had grief to wrench her soul.\nBet ne'er the Furies or of Thebes or Troy\nWith such fell cruelty were seen, their goads\nInfixing in the limbs of man or beast,\nAs now two pale and naked ghost I saw\nThat gnarling wildly scamper'd, like the swine\nExcluded from his stye.  One reach'd Capocchio,\nAnd in the neck-joint sticking deep his fangs,\nDragg'd him, that o'er the solid pavement rubb'd\nHis belly stretch'd out prone.  The other shape,\nHe of Arezzo, there left trembling, spake;\n\"That sprite of air is Schicchi; in like mood\nOf random mischief vent he still his spite.\"\n\nTo whom I answ'ring: \"Oh! as thou dost hope,\nThe other may not flesh its jaws on thee,\nBe patient to inform us, who it is,\nEre it speed hence.\"--\"That is the ancient soul\nOf wretched Myrrha,\" he replied, \"who burn'd\nWith most unholy flame for her own sire,\n\n\"And a false shape assuming, so perform'd\nThe deed of sin; e'en as the other there,\nThat onward passes, dar'd to counterfeit\nDonati's features, to feign'd testament\nThe seal affixing, that himself might gain,\nFor his own share, the lady of the herd.\"\n\nWhen vanish'd the two furious shades, on whom\nMine eye was held, I turn'd it back to view\nThe other cursed spirits.  One I saw\nIn fashion like a lute, had but the groin\nBeen sever'd, where it meets the forked part.\nSwoln dropsy, disproportioning the limbs\nWith ill-converted moisture, that the paunch\nSuits not the visage, open'd wide his lips\nGasping as in the hectic man for drought,\nOne towards the chin, the other upward curl'd.\n\n\"O ye, who in this world of misery,\nWherefore I know not, are exempt from pain,\"\nThus he began, \"attentively regard\nAdamo's woe.  When living, full supply\nNe'er lack'd me of what most I coveted;\nOne drop of water now, alas!  I crave.\nThe rills, that glitter down the grassy slopes\nOf Casentino, making fresh and soft\nThe banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream,\nStand ever in my view; and not in vain;\nFor more the pictur'd semblance dries me up,\nMuch more than the disease, which makes the flesh\nDesert these shrivel'd cheeks.  So from the place,\nWhere I transgress'd, stern justice urging me,\nTakes means to quicken more my lab'ring sighs.\nThere is Romena, where I falsified\nThe metal with the Baptist's form imprest,\nFor which on earth I left my body burnt.\nBut if I here might see the sorrowing soul\nOf Guido, Alessandro, or their brother,\nFor Branda's limpid spring I would not change\nThe welcome sight.  One is e'en now within,\nIf truly the mad spirits tell, that round\nAre wand'ring.  But wherein besteads me that?\nMy limbs are fetter'd.  Were I but so light,\nThat I each hundred years might move one inch,\nI had set forth already on this path,\nSeeking him out amidst the shapeless crew,\nAlthough eleven miles it wind, not more\nThan half of one across.  They brought me down\nAmong this tribe; induc'd by them I stamp'd\nThe florens with three carats of alloy.\"\n\n\"Who are that abject pair,\" I next inquir'd,\n\"That closely bounding thee upon thy right\nLie smoking, like a band in winter steep'd\nIn the chill stream?\"--\"When to this gulf I dropt,\"\nHe answer'd, \"here I found them; since that hour\nThey have not turn'd, nor ever shall, I ween,\nTill time hath run his course.  One is that dame\nThe false accuser of the Hebrew youth;\nSinon the other, that false Greek from Troy.\nSharp fever drains the reeky moistness out,\nIn such a cloud upsteam'd.\"  When that he heard,\nOne, gall'd perchance to be so darkly nam'd,\nWith clench'd hand smote him on the braced paunch,\nThat like a drum resounded: but forthwith\nAdamo smote him on the face, the blow\nReturning with his arm, that seem'd as hard.\n\n\"Though my o'erweighty limbs have ta'en from me\nThe power to move,\" said he, \"I have an arm\nAt liberty for such employ.\"  To whom\nWas answer'd: \"When thou wentest to the fire,\nThou hadst it not so ready at command,\nThen readier when it coin'd th' impostor gold.\"\n\nAnd thus the dropsied: \"Ay, now speak'st thou true.\nBut there thou gav'st not such true testimony,\nWhen thou wast question'd of the truth, at Troy.\"\n\n\"If I spake false, thou falsely stamp'dst the coin,\"\nSaid Sinon; \"I am here but for one fault,\nAnd thou for more than any imp beside.\"\n\n\"Remember,\" he replied, \"O perjur'd one,\nThe horse remember, that did teem with death,\nAnd all the world be witness to thy guilt.\"\n\n\"To thine,\" return'd the Greek, \"witness the thirst\nWhence thy tongue cracks, witness the fluid mound,\nRear'd by thy belly up before thine eyes,\nA mass corrupt.\"  To whom the coiner thus:\n\"Thy mouth gapes wide as ever to let pass\nIts evil saying.  Me if thirst assails,\nYet I am stuff'd with moisture.  Thou art parch'd,\nPains rack thy head, no urging would'st thou need\nTo make thee lap Narcissus' mirror up.\"\n\nI was all fix'd to listen, when my guide\nAdmonish'd: \"Now beware: a little more.\nAnd I do quarrel with thee.\"  I perceiv'd\nHow angrily he spake, and towards him turn'd\nWith shame so poignant, as remember'd yet\nConfounds me.  As a man that dreams of harm\nBefall'n him, dreaming wishes it a dream,\nAnd that which is, desires as if it were not,\nSuch then was I, who wanting power to speak\nWish'd to excuse myself, and all the while\nExcus'd me, though unweeting that I did.\n\n\"More grievous fault than thine has been, less shame,\"\nMy master cried, \"might expiate.  Therefore cast\nAll sorrow from thy soul; and if again\nChance bring thee, where like conference is held,\nThink I am ever at thy side.  To hear\nSuch wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds.\"\n\n\n\n\nCANTO XXXI\n\nTHE very tongue, whose keen reproof before\nHad wounded me, that either cheek was stain'd,\nNow minister'd my cure.  So have I heard,\nAchilles and his father's javelin caus'd\nPain first, and then the boon of health restor'd.\n\nTurning our back upon the vale of woe,\nW cross'd th' encircled mound in silence.  There\nWas twilight dim, that far long the gloom\nMine eye advanc'd not: but I heard a horn\nSounded aloud. The peal it blew had made\nThe thunder feeble.  Following its course\nThe adverse way, my strained eyes were bent\nOn that one spot.  So terrible a blast\nOrlando blew not, when that dismal rout\nO'erthrew the host of Charlemagne, and quench'd\nHis saintly warfare.  Thitherward not long\nMy head was rais'd, when many lofty towers\nMethought I spied.  \"Master,\" said I, \"what land\nIs this?\"  He answer'd straight: \"Too long a space\nOf intervening darkness has thine eye\nTo traverse: thou hast therefore widely err'd\nIn thy imagining.  Thither arriv'd\nThou well shalt see, how distance can delude\nThe sense.  A little therefore urge thee on.\"\n\nThen tenderly he caught me by the hand;\n\"Yet know,\" said he, \"ere farther we advance,\nThat it less strange may seem, these are not towers,\nBut giants.  In the pit they stand immers'd,\nEach from his navel downward, round the bank.\"\n\nAs when a fog disperseth gradually,\nOur vision traces what the mist involves\nCondens'd in air; so piercing through the gross\nAnd gloomy atmosphere, as more and more\nWe near'd toward the brink, mine error fled,\nAnd fear came o'er me.  As with circling round\nOf turrets, Montereggion crowns his walls,\nE'en thus the shore, encompassing th' abyss,\nWas turreted with giants, half their length\nUprearing, horrible, whom Jove from heav'n\nYet threatens, when his mutt'ring thunder rolls.\n\nOf one already I descried the face,\nShoulders, and breast, and of the belly huge\nGreat part, and both arms down along his ribs.\n\nAll-teeming nature, when her plastic hand\nLeft framing of these monsters, did display\nPast doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War\nSuch slaves to do his bidding; and if she\nRepent her not of th' elephant and whale,\nWho ponders well confesses her therein\nWiser and more discreet; for when brute force\nAnd evil will are back'd with subtlety,\nResistance none avails.  His visage seem'd\nIn length and bulk, as doth the pine, that tops\nSaint Peter's Roman fane; and th' other bones\nOf like proportion, so that from above\nThe bank, which girdled him below, such height\nArose his stature, that three Friezelanders\nHad striv'n in vain to reach but to his hair.\nFull thirty ample palms was he expos'd\nDownward from whence a man his garments loops.\n\"Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,\"\nSo shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns\nBecame not; and my guide address'd him thus:\n\n\"O senseless spirit! let thy horn for thee\nInterpret: therewith vent thy rage, if rage\nOr other passion wring thee.  Search thy neck,\nThere shalt thou find the belt that binds it on.\nWild spirit! lo, upon thy mighty breast\nWhere hangs the baldrick!\"  Then to me he spake:\n\"He doth accuse himself.  Nimrod is this,\nThrough whose ill counsel in the world no more\nOne tongue prevails.  But pass we on, nor waste\nOur words; for so each language is to him,\nAs his to others, understood by none.\"\n\nThen to the leftward turning sped we forth,\nAnd at a sling's throw found another shade\nFar fiercer and more huge.  I cannot say\nWhat master hand had girt him; but he held\nBehind the right arm fetter'd, and before\nThe other with a chain, that fasten'd him\nFrom the neck down, and five times round his form\nApparent met the wreathed links.  \"This proud one\nWould of his strength against almighty Jove\nMake trial,\" said my guide; \"whence he is thus\nRequited: Ephialtes him they call.\n\n\"Great was his prowess, when the giants brought\nFear on the gods: those arms, which then he piled,\nNow moves he never.\"  Forthwith I return'd:\n\"Fain would I, if 't were possible, mine eyes\nOf Briareus immeasurable gain'd\nExperience next.\"  He answer'd: \"Thou shalt see\nNot far from hence Antaeus, who both speaks\nAnd is unfetter'd, who shall place us there\nWhere guilt is at its depth.  Far onward stands\nWhom thou wouldst fain behold, in chains, and made\nLike to this spirit, save that in his looks\nMore fell he seems.\"  By violent earthquake rock'd\nNe'er shook a tow'r, so reeling to its base,\nAs Ephialtes.  More than ever then\nI dreaded death, nor than the terror more\nHad needed, if I had not seen the cords\nThat held him fast.  We, straightway journeying on,\nCame to Antaeus, who five ells complete\nWithout the head, forth issued from the cave.\n\n\"O thou, who in the fortunate vale, that made\nGreat Scipio heir of glory, when his sword\nDrove back the troop of Hannibal in flight,\nWho thence of old didst carry for thy spoil\nAn hundred lions; and if thou hadst fought\nIn the high conflict on thy brethren's side,\nSeems as men yet believ'd, that through thine arm\nThe sons of earth had conquer'd, now vouchsafe\nTo place us down beneath, where numbing cold\nLocks up Cocytus.  Force not that we crave\nOr Tityus' help or Typhon's.  Here is one\nCan give what in this realm ye covet.  Stoop\nTherefore, nor scornfully distort thy lip.\nHe in the upper world can yet bestow\nRenown on thee, for he doth live, and looks\nFor life yet longer, if before the time\nGrace call him not unto herself.\"  Thus spake\nThe teacher.  He in haste forth stretch'd his hands,\nAnd caught my guide.  Alcides whilom felt\nThat grapple straighten'd score.  Soon as my guide\nHad felt it, he bespake me thus: \"This way\nThat I may clasp thee;\" then so caught me up,\nThat we were both one burden.  As appears\nThe tower of Carisenda, from beneath\nWhere it doth lean, if chance a passing cloud\nSo sail across, that opposite it hangs,\nSuch then Antaeus seem'd, as at mine ease\nI mark'd him stooping.  I were fain at times\nT' have pass'd another way.  Yet in th' abyss,\nThat Lucifer with Judas low ingulfs,\nLightly he plac'd us; nor there leaning stay'd,\nBut rose as in a bark the stately mast.","title":"The Divine Comedy by Dante, Illustrated, Hell, Volume 09","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":3304}