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 CANTO IX
 THE hue, which coward dread on my pale cheeksImprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,
 Chas'd that from his which newly they had worn,
 And inwardly restrain'd it.  He, as one
 Who listens, stood attentive: for his eye
 Not far could lead him through the sable air,
 And the thick-gath'ring cloud.  "It yet behooves
 We win this fight"—thus he began—"if not—
 Such aid to us is offer'd.—Oh, how long
 Me seems it, ere the promis'd help arrive!"
 
 I noted, how the sequel of his words
 Clok'd their beginning; for the last he spake
 Agreed not with the first.  But not the less
 My fear was at his saying; sith I drew
 To import worse perchance, than that he held,
 His mutilated speech.  "Doth ever any
 Into this rueful concave's extreme depth
 Descend, out of the first degree, whose pain
 Is deprivation merely of sweet hope?"
 
 Thus I inquiring. "Rarely," he replied,
 "It chances, that among us any makes
 This journey, which I wend.  Erewhile 'tis true
 Once came I here beneath, conjur'd by fell
 Erictho, sorceress, who compell'd the shades
 Back to their bodies.  No long space my flesh
 Was naked of me, when within these walls
 She made me enter, to draw forth a spirit
 From out of Judas' circle.  Lowest place
 Is that of all, obscurest, and remov'd
 Farthest from heav'n's all-circling orb.  The road
 Full well I know: thou therefore rest secure.
 That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round
 The city' of grief encompasses, which now
 We may not enter without rage."  Yet more
 He added: but I hold it not in mind,
 For that mine eye toward the lofty tower
 Had drawn me wholly, to its burning top.
 Where in an instant I beheld uprisen
 At once three hellish furies stain'd with blood:
 In limb and motion feminine they seem'd;
 Around them greenest hydras twisting roll'd
 Their volumes; adders and cerastes crept
 Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.
 
 He knowing well the miserable hags
 Who tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake:
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 "Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the left
 This is Megaera; on the right hand she,
 Who wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone
 I' th' midst."  This said, in silence he remain'd
 Their breast they each one clawing tore; themselves
 Smote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais'd,
 That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound.
 "Hasten Medusa: so to adamant
 Him shall we change;" all looking down exclaim'd.
 "E'en when by Theseus' might assail'd, we took
 No ill revenge."  "Turn thyself round, and keep
 Thy count'nance hid; for if the Gorgon dire
 Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return
 Upwards would be for ever lost."  This said,
 Himself my gentle master turn'd me round,
 Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own
 He also hid me.  Ye of intellect
 Sound and entire, mark well the lore conceal'd
 Under close texture of the mystic strain!
 
 And now there came o'er the perturbed waves
 Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made
 Either shore tremble, as if of a wind
 Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,
 That 'gainst some forest driving all its might,
 Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurls
 Afar; then onward passing proudly sweeps
 Its whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.
 
 Mine eyes he loos'd, and spake: "And now direct
 Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam,
 There, thickest where the smoke ascends." As frogs
 Before their foe the serpent, through the wave
 Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one
 Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits
 Destroy'd, so saw I fleeing before one
 Who pass'd with unwet feet the Stygian sound.
 He, from his face removing the gross air,
 Oft his left hand forth stretch'd, and seem'd alone
 By that annoyance wearied.  I perceiv'd
 That he was sent from heav'n, and to my guide
 Turn'd me, who signal made that I should stand
 Quiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how full
 Of noble anger seem'd he!  To the gate
 He came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat
 Open without impediment it flew.
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 "Outcasts of heav'n!  O abject race and scorn'd!"
 Began he on the horrid grunsel standing,
 "Whence doth this wild excess of insolence
 Lodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that will
 Ne'er frustrate of its end, and which so oft
 Hath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?
 What profits at the fays to but the horn?
 Your Cerberus, if ye remember, hence
 Bears still, peel'd of their hair, his throat and maw."
 
 This said, he turn'd back o'er the filthy way,
 And syllable to us spake none, but wore
 The semblance of a man by other care
 Beset, and keenly press'd, than thought of him
 Who in his presence stands.  Then we our steps
 Toward that territory mov'd, secure
 After the hallow'd words.  We unoppos'd
 There enter'd; and my mind eager to learn
 What state a fortress like to that might hold,
 I soon as enter'd throw mine eye around,
 And see on every part wide-stretching space
 Replete with bitter pain and torment ill.
 
 As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles,
 Or as at Pola, near Quarnaro's gulf,
 That closes Italy and laves her bounds,
 The place is all thick spread with sepulchres;
 So was it here, save what in horror here
 Excell'd: for 'midst the graves were scattered flames,
 Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn'd,
 That iron for no craft there hotter needs.
 
 Their lids all hung suspended, and beneath
 From them forth issu'd lamentable moans,
 Such as the sad and tortur'd well might raise.
 
 I thus: "Master! say who are these, interr'd
 Within these vaults, of whom distinct we hear
 The dolorous sighs?"  He answer thus return'd:
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 "The arch-heretics are here, accompanied
 By every sect their followers; and much more,
 Than thou believest, tombs are freighted: like
 With like is buried; and the monuments
 Are different in degrees of heat."  This said,
 He to the right hand turning, on we pass'd
 Betwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.
 
 
 
 
 CANTO X
 NOW by a secret pathway we proceed,Between the walls, that hem the region round,
 And the tormented souls: my master first,
 I close behind his steps.  "Virtue supreme!"
 I thus began; "who through these ample orbs
 In circuit lead'st me, even as thou will'st,
 Speak thou, and satisfy my wish.  May those,
 Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?
 Already all the lids are rais'd, and none
 O'er them keeps watch."  He thus in answer spake
 "They shall be closed all, what-time they here
 From Josaphat return'd shall come, and bring
 Their bodies, which above they now have left.
 The cemetery on this part obtain
 With Epicurus all his followers,
 Who with the body make the spirit die.
 Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon
 Both to the question ask'd, and to the wish,
 Which thou conceal'st in silence."  I replied:
 "I keep not, guide belov'd! from thee my heart
 Secreted, but to shun vain length of words,
 A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself."
 
 "O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire
 Alive art passing, so discreet of speech!
 Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utterance
 Declares the place of thy nativity
 To be that noble land, with which perchance
 I too severely dealt."  Sudden that sound
 Forth issu'd from a vault, whereat in fear
 I somewhat closer to my leader's side
 Approaching, he thus spake: "What dost thou?  Turn.
 Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himself
 Uplifted: from his girdle upwards all
 Expos'd behold him."  On his face was mine
 Already fix'd; his breast and forehead there
 Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held
 E'en hell.  Between the sepulchres to him
 My guide thrust me with fearless hands and prompt,
 This warning added: "See thy words be clear!"
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,
 Ey'd me a space, then in disdainful mood
 Address'd me: "Say, what ancestors were thine?"
 
 I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd
 The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow
 Somewhat uplifting, cried: "Fiercely were they
 Adverse to me, my party, and the blood
 From whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroad
 Scatter'd them."  "Though driv'n out, yet they each time
 From all parts," answer'd I, "return'd; an art
 Which yours have shown, they are not skill'd to learn."
 
 Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,
 Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin,
 Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais'd.
 It look'd around, as eager to explore
 If there were other with me; but perceiving
 That fond imagination quench'd, with tears
 Thus spake: "If thou through this blind prison go'st.
 Led by thy lofty genius and profound,
 Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?"
 
 I straight replied: "Not of myself I come,
 By him, who there expects me, through this clime
 Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son
 Had in contempt."  Already had his words
 And mode of punishment read me his name,
 Whence I so fully answer'd.  He at once
 Exclaim'd, up starting, "How! said'st thou he HAD?
 No longer lives he?  Strikes not on his eye
 The blessed daylight?"  Then of some delay
 I made ere my reply aware, down fell
 Supine, not after forth appear'd he more.
 
 Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom
 I yet was station'd, chang'd not count'nance stern,
 Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.
 "And if," continuing the first discourse,
 "They in this art," he cried, "small skill have shown,
 That doth torment me more e'en than this bed.
 But not yet fifty times shall be relum'd
 Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm,
 Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.
 So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,
 As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws,
 Against my kin this people is so fell?"
 
 "The slaughter and great havoc," I replied,
 "That colour'd Arbia's flood with crimson stain—
 To these impute, that in our hallow'd dome
 Such orisons ascend."  Sighing he shook
 The head, then thus resum'd: "In that affray
 I stood not singly, nor without just cause
 Assuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;
 But singly there I stood, when by consent
 Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz'd,
 The one who openly forbad the deed."
 
 "So may thy lineage find at last repose,"
 I thus adjur'd him, "as thou solve this knot,
 Which now involves my mind.  If right I hear,
 Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time
 Leads with him, of the present uninform'd."
 
 "We view, as one who hath an evil sight,"
 He answer'd, "plainly, objects far remote:
 So much of his large spendour yet imparts
 The' Almighty Ruler; but when they approach
 Or actually exist, our intellect
 Then wholly fails, nor of your human state
 Except what others bring us know we aught.
 Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all
 Our knowledge in that instant shall expire,
 When on futurity the portals close."
 
 Then conscious of my fault, and by remorse
 Smitten, I added thus: "Now shalt thou say
 To him there fallen, that his offspring still
 Is to the living join'd; and bid him know,
 That if from answer silent I abstain'd,
 'Twas that my thought was occupied intent
 Upon that error, which thy help hath solv'd."
 
 But now my master summoning me back
 I heard, and with more eager haste besought
 The spirit to inform me, who with him
 Partook his lot.  He answer thus return'd:
 
 "More than a thousand with me here are laid
 Within is Frederick, second of that name,
 And the Lord Cardinal, and of the rest
 I speak not."  He, this said, from sight withdrew.
 But I my steps towards the ancient bard
 Reverting, ruminated on the words
 Betokening me such ill.  Onward he mov'd,
 And thus in going question'd: "Whence the' amaze
 That holds thy senses wrapt?"  I satisfied
 The' inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:
 "Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard
 To thee importing harm; and note thou this,"
 With his rais'd finger bidding me take heed,
 
 "When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam,
 Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life
 The future tenour will to thee unfold."
 
 Forthwith he to the left hand turn'd his feet:
 We left the wall, and tow'rds the middle space
 Went by a path, that to a valley strikes;
 Which e'en thus high exhal'd its noisome steam.
 
 
 
 
 CANTO XI
 UPON the utmost verge of a high bank,By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came,
 Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow'd:
 And here to shun the horrible excess
 Of fetid exhalation, upward cast
 From the profound abyss, behind the lid
 Of a great monument we stood retir'd,
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 Whereon this scroll I mark'd: "I have in charge
 Pope Anastasius, whom Photinus drew
 From the right path.—Ere our descent behooves
 We make delay, that somewhat first the sense,
 To the dire breath accustom'd, afterward
 Regard it not."  My master thus; to whom
 Answering I spake: "Some compensation find
 That the time past not wholly lost."  He then:
 "Lo! how my thoughts e'en to thy wishes tend!
 My son! within these rocks," he thus began,
 "Are three close circles in gradation plac'd,
 As these which now thou leav'st. Each one is full
 Of spirits accurs'd; but that the sight alone
 Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how
 And for what cause in durance they abide.
 
 "Of all malicious act abhorr'd in heaven,
 The end is injury; and all such end
 Either by force or fraud works other's woe
 But fraud, because of man peculiar evil,
 To God is more displeasing; and beneath
 The fraudulent are therefore doom'd to' endure
 Severer pang.  The violent occupy
 All the first circle; and because to force
 Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds
 Hach within other sep'rate is it fram'd.
 To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man
 Force may be offer'd; to himself I say
 And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear
 At full.  Death, violent death, and painful wounds
 Upon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastes
 By devastation, pillage, and the flames,
 His substance.  Slayers, and each one that smites
 In malice, plund'rers, and all robbers, hence
 The torment undergo of the first round
 In different herds.  Man can do violence
 To himself and his own blessings: and for this
 He in the second round must aye deplore
 With unavailing penitence his crime,
 Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light,
 In reckless lavishment his talent wastes,
 And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy.
 To God may force be offer'd, in the heart
 Denying and blaspheming his high power,
 And nature with her kindly law contemning.
 And thence the inmost round marks with its seal
 Sodom and Cahors, and all such as speak
 Contemptuously' of the Godhead in their hearts.
 
 "Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting,
 May be by man employ'd on one, whose trust
 He wins, or on another who withholds
 Strict confidence.  Seems as the latter way
 Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes.
 Whence in the second circle have their nest
 Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries,
 Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduce
 To lust, or set their honesty at pawn,
 With such vile scum as these.  The other way
 Forgets both Nature's general love, and that
 Which thereto added afterwards gives birth
 To special faith.  Whence in the lesser circle,
 Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis,
 The traitor is eternally consum'd."
 
 I thus: "Instructor, clearly thy discourse
 Proceeds, distinguishing the hideous chasm
 And its inhabitants with skill exact.
 But tell me this: they of the dull, fat pool,
 Whom the rain beats, or whom the tempest drives,
 Or who with tongues so fierce conflicting meet,
 Wherefore within the city fire-illum'd
 Are not these punish'd, if God's wrath be on them?
 And if it be not, wherefore in such guise
 Are they condemned?"  He answer thus return'd:
 "Wherefore in dotage wanders thus thy mind,
 Not so accustom'd? or what other thoughts
 Possess it?  Dwell not in thy memory
 The words, wherein thy ethic page describes
 Three dispositions adverse to Heav'n's will,
 Incont'nence, malice, and mad brutishness,
 And how incontinence the least offends
 God, and least guilt incurs?  If well thou note
 This judgment, and remember who they are,
 Without these walls to vain repentance doom'd,
 Thou shalt discern why they apart are plac'd
 From these fell spirits, and less wreakful pours
 Justice divine on them its vengeance down."
 
 "O Sun! who healest all imperfect sight,
 Thou so content'st me, when thou solv'st my doubt,
 That ignorance not less than knowledge charms.
 Yet somewhat turn thee back," I in these words
 Continu'd, "where thou saidst, that usury
 Offends celestial Goodness; and this knot
 Perplex'd unravel."  He thus made reply:
 "Philosophy, to an attentive ear,
 Clearly points out, not in one part alone,
 How imitative nature takes her course
 From the celestial mind and from its art:
 And where her laws the Stagyrite unfolds,
 Not many leaves scann'd o'er, observing well
 Thou shalt discover, that your art on her
 Obsequious follows, as the learner treads
 In his instructor's step, so that your art
 Deserves the name of second in descent
 From God.  These two, if thou recall to mind
 Creation's holy book, from the beginning
 Were the right source of life and excellence
 To human kind.  But in another path
 The usurer walks; and Nature in herself
 And in her follower thus he sets at nought,
 Placing elsewhere his hope.  But follow now
 My steps on forward journey bent; for now
 The Pisces play with undulating glance
 Along the' horizon, and the Wain lies all
 O'er the north-west; and onward there a space
 Is our steep passage down the rocky height."
 
 
 
 
 CANTO XII
 THE place where to descend the precipiceWe came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge
 Such object lay, as every eye would shun.
 
 As is that ruin, which Adice's stream
 On this side Trento struck, should'ring the wave,
 Or loos'd by earthquake or for lack of prop;
 For from the mountain's summit, whence it mov'd
 To the low level, so the headlong rock
 Is shiver'd, that some passage it might give
 To him who from above would pass; e'en such
 Into the chasm was that descent: and there
 At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch'd
 The infamy of Crete, detested brood
 Of the feign'd heifer: and at sight of us
 It gnaw'd itself, as one with rage distract.
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 To him my guide exclaim'd: "Perchance thou deem'st
 The King of Athens here, who, in the world
 Above, thy death contriv'd.  Monster! avaunt!
 He comes not tutor'd by thy sister's art,
 But to behold your torments is he come."
 
 Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring
 Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow
 Hath struck him, but unable to proceed
 Plunges on either side; so saw I plunge
 The Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim'd:
 "Run to the passage! while he storms, 't is well
 That thou descend."  Thus down our road we took
 Through those dilapidated crags, that oft
 Mov'd underneath my feet, to weight like theirs
 Unus'd.  I pond'ring went, and thus he spake:
 
 "Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin'd steep,
 Guarded by the brute violence, which I
 Have vanquish'd now. Know then, that when I erst
 Hither descended to the nether hell,
 This rock was not yet fallen.  But past doubt
 (If well I mark) not long ere He arrived,
 Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil
 Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds
 Such trembling seiz'd the deep concave and foul,
 I thought the universe was thrill'd with love,
 Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft
 Been into chaos turn'd: and in that point,
 Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.
 But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of blood
 Approaches, in the which all those are steep'd,
 Who have by violence injur'd."  O blind lust!
 O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on
 In the brief life, and in the eternal then
 Thus miserably o'erwhelm us.  I beheld
 An ample foss, that in a bow was bent,
 As circling all the plain; for so my guide
 Had told.  Between it and the rampart's base
 On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm'd,
 As to the chase they on the earth were wont.
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 At seeing us descend they each one stood;
 And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows
 And missile weapons chosen first; of whom
 One cried from far: "Say to what pain ye come
 Condemn'd, who down this steep have journied?  Speak
 From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw."
 
 To whom my guide: "Our answer shall be made
 To Chiron, there, when nearer him we come.
 Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash."
 
 Then me he touch'd, and spake: "Nessus is this,
 Who for the fair Deianira died,
 And wrought himself revenge for his own fate.
 He in the midst, that on his breast looks down,
 Is the great Chiron who Achilles nurs'd;
 That other Pholus, prone to wrath."  Around
 The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts
 At whatsoever spirit dares emerge
 From out the blood, more than his guilt allows.
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,
 Drew near, when Chiron took an arrow forth,
 And with the notch push'd back his shaggy beard
 To the cheek-bone, then his great mouth to view
 Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim'd:
 "Are ye aware, that he who comes behind
 Moves what he touches?  The feet of the dead
 Are not so wont."  My trusty guide, who now
 Stood near his breast, where the two natures join,
 Thus made reply: "He is indeed alive,
 And solitary so must needs by me
 Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc'd
 By strict necessity, not by delight.
 She left her joyful harpings in the sky,
 Who this new office to my care consign'd.
 He is no robber, no dark spirit I.
 But by that virtue, which empowers my step
 To treat so wild a path, grant us, I pray,
 One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,
 Who to the ford may lead us, and convey
 Across, him mounted on his back; for he
 Is not a spirit that may walk the air."
 
 Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus
 To Nessus spake: "Return, and be their guide.
 And if ye chance to cross another troop,
 Command them keep aloof."  Onward we mov'd,
 The faithful escort by our side, along
 The border of the crimson-seething flood,
 Whence from those steep'd within loud shrieks arose.
 
 Some there I mark'd, as high as to their brow
 Immers'd, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:
 "These are the souls of tyrants, who were given
 To blood and rapine.  Here they wail aloud
 Their merciless wrongs.  Here Alexander dwells,
 And Dionysius fell, who many a year
 Of woe wrought for fair Sicily.  That brow
 Whereon the hair so jetty clust'ring hangs,
 Is Azzolino; that with flaxen locks
 Obizzo' of Este, in the world destroy'd
 By his foul step-son."  To the bard rever'd
 I turned me round, and thus he spake; "Let him
 Be to thee now first leader, me but next
 To him in rank."  Then farther on a space
 The Centaur paus'd, near some, who at the throat
 Were extant from the wave; and showing us
 A spirit by itself apart retir'd,
 Exclaim'd: "He in God's bosom smote the heart,
 Which yet is honour'd on the bank of Thames."
 
 A race I next espied, who held the head,
 And even all the bust above the stream.
 'Midst these I many a face remember'd well.
 Thus shallow more and more the blood became,
 So that at last it but imbru'd the feet;
 And there our passage lay athwart the foss.
 
 "As ever on this side the boiling wave
 Thou seest diminishing," the Centaur said,
 "So on the other, be thou well assur'd,
 It lower still and lower sinks its bed,
 Till in that part it reuniting join,
 Where 't is the lot of tyranny to mourn.
 There Heav'n's stern justice lays chastising hand
 On Attila, who was the scourge of earth,
 On Sextus, and on Pyrrhus, and extracts
 Tears ever by the seething flood unlock'd
 From the Rinieri, of Corneto this,
 Pazzo the other nam'd, who fill'd the ways
 With violence and war."  This said, he turn'd,
 And quitting us, alone repass'd the ford.
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