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When in that season of the youthful year
         The sun warms his rays beneath Aquarius,
         And soon the nights shall meet the days halfway,
 
         When the hoarfrost paints upon the ground
5        The perfect picture of his pure white sister
         (But pigment from his brush soon vanishes),
 
         The peasant, short on fodder for his sheep,
         Wakes up and looks out and sees the fields
         All blanketed in white: he smacks his thigh,
 
10       Turns back indoors and walking up and down,
         Frets like a wretch not knowing what to do;
         Out he comes once more, and hope revives
 
         When he sees the world has changed its face
         In so brief a time, and he takes up his staff
15       To drive his sheep outside to the green pasture:
 
         Just so I felt such deep dismay to see
         My master’s brow grown pale with some new trouble
         And as quickly came the gauze to heal the hurt.
 
         For as soon as we approached the shattered bridge
20       My escort turned to me that same sweet look
         Which I’d first seen at the foot of the mountain.
 
         He opened wide his arms — once he had closely
         Studied the wreckage and come to some resolve
         Within himself — then he took hold of me.
 
25       And just like one who works and thinks things out,
         Who is always ready for what lies ahead,
         So he, lifting me toward the dome of one
 
         Huge boulder, spied another crag above
         And said, "Now clamber onto that: but first
30       Try it out to see if it will hold you."
 
         It was no path for those clothed in their cloaks!
         For we could hardly — he, light, and I, with help —
         Handhold by handhold, scale the jutting rocks.
 
         And had it not been that, down from that rampart,
35       The slope of one bank was lower than the other,
         I cannot speak for him, but I’d be beaten.
 
         But because Malebolge all falls away
         Toward the open mouth of the lowest well,
         The layout of each valley predetermined
 
40       That as one bank rises, the next tapers off.
         And so we reached, at last, the point on top
         Where the last stone of the bridge fell broken.
 
         The breath was so pumped out of my lungs
         When I climbed aloft, I could not go onward,
45       And as soon as I’d come up there I sat down.
 
         "Now you must shake off all your laziness,"
         My master said, "for loungers and slugabeds
         Will never reach the heights of lasting fame:
 
         "Without fame a man wears away his life,
50        Leaving such traces of himself on earth
         As smoke on air or foam upon the water.
 
         "Straighten up! Conquer your fatigue
         With the spirit that wins every battle
         Unless it sink under the body’s weight.
 
55       "Longer stairs than these wait to be climbed!
         It is not enough to leave these souls behind:
         If you have understood my words, act on them!"
 
         I stood up then, showing that I was better
         Supplied with wind than I had been before,
60       And said, "Go on, for I am strong and ready."
 
         We picked our way along the curving ridge
         Which was more jagged, narrower and harder,
         And so much steeper than the ridge before.
 
         Not to seem weak, I talked as I pushed on;
65       Then, from the next ditch there arose a voice
         That seemed incapable of forming words.
 
         I don’t know what he said, though now I stood
         On the crown of the arch that crosses there,
         But whoever spoke appeared to be running.
 
70       I had bent over, yet my living eyes
         Could not pierce through the darkness to the bottom;
         So I said, "Master, kindly manage to reach
 
         "The next ring, and let us climb down the wall:
         From here I cannot grasp what I am hearing,
75       And I see down but I can make out nothing."
 
         "No other answer," he said, "shall I give you
         Than doing it, because a fit request
         Should in silence be followed by the deed."
         We climbed down where the bridgehead ended
80       And where it merged with the eighth embankment,
         And then its pocket opened up to me:
 
         And there within I saw a repulsive mass
         Of serpents in such a horrifying state
         That still my blood runs cold when I recall them.
 
85       No more need Libya boast about the sands
         Where chelydri, jaculi, phareae,
         And cenchres with amphisbaena breed:
 
         She could not show — with all Ethiopia
         Nor the lands that lie surrounding the Red Sea —
90      So rampant and pestiferous a plague.
 
         Among this cruel and miserable swarm
         Were people running stripped and terrified,
         With no hope of hiding-hole or heliotrope.
 
         They had hands tied behind their backs by snakes
95       That thrust out head and tail through their loins
         And that coiled then in knots around the front.
 
         And look! A serpent sprang up at one sinner
         Upon our strand and it transfixed him there
         Where neck and shoulders knotted at the nape.
 
100      No o or i was ever written faster
         Than that sinner flared up and burst in flames
         And, falling down, completely turned to ashes.
 
         And then, as he lay scattered on the ground,
         The ashy dust collected by itself
105      And suddenly returned to its first shape.
 
         Just so, men of high learning have avowed
         That the phoenix dies and is then reborn
         When it approaches its five-hundredth year;
 
         In life it does not feed on grass or grain,
110     But only on the tears of balm and incense,
         And its last winding-sheet is nard and myrrh.
 
         As one who falls in a fit, not knowing how —
         By devilish force that drags him to the ground
         Or by some other blockage that binds a man —
 
115      When he lifts himself up, and looks around,
         All out of focus with the heavy anguish
         He has suffered, sighing as he stares:
 
         Such was this sinner after he arose.
         O power of God, what great severity
120     To have poured down such blows in its vengeance!
 
         My guide then asked the sinner who he was,
         And he replied to this, "Not long ago
         I rained from Tuscany down to this hellmouth.
 
         "Bestial life and not the human pleased me,
125      Like the mule I was; I am Vanni Fucci,
         Beast, and Pistoia was a fit den for me."
 
         I said to my guide, "Tell him not to slink
         Away, and ask him what crime cast him here,
         For I knew him as a man of blood and tantrums."
 
130     The sinner, who understood, made no evasions
         But turned his mind and face straight toward me
         And reddened with distressful shame, then said,
 
         "It grieves me more that you have found me out
         Amid the wretchedness in which you see me
135      Than when I was taken from the other life.
 
         "I am not able to refuse your asking.
         I am set down so far because I robbed
         The sacristy of its splendid treasure,
 
         "And later someone else was falsely blamed.
140      But, that you may not revel in this sight,
         If ever you escape from these dark regions,
 
         "Open your ears and listen to my tidings:
         Pistoia first divests herself of Blacks;
         Then Florence changes over men and laws.
 
145      "From Valdimagra Mars draws a fiery vapor
         Which is enwrapped in dark and smoky clouds,
         And with a raging and relentless storm
 
         "There shall be battling on Campo Piceno
         Until it will abruptly smash the scud
150     And every White will be struck by the lightning.
 
         "And I have told you this to make you suffer."

Silent, solitary, without escort,
         We walked along, one behind the other,
         Like minor friars traveling the road.
 
         Because of the scuffle we had just seen,
5        My thoughts turned to one of Aesop’s fables
         In which he tells about the frog and mouse.
 
         For "soon" and "shortly" are not more similar
         Than fiction is like fact, if carefully
         You compare the beginning and end of both.
 
10       And just as one thought rises from another,
         So this gave birth to still another thought
         That doubled the first fear that I had felt.
 
         I thought like this: These devils have been mocked
         By us with so much damage and derision
15       That I believe they feel deeply offended.
 
         If anger should be added to bad-will,
         They will chase us even more viciously
         Than the hound that snatches up the hare.
 
         Already I felt my hair start to stand up
20       With fear that gripped me as I stared behind.
         "Master," I said, "if you don’t find a spot
 
         "To hide us — quick — I dread the Malebranche —
         They’re after us right now — I imagine that
         They’re there — so close that I can hear them now!"
 
25       And he replied, "Were I a leaded mirror
         I couldn’t catch your outward look more quickly
         Than your inner thoughts occur to me.
 
         "Just now, in fact, they mingled with my own,
         So similar in act and coloration
30       That I will put them both to one resolve:
 
         "Should the right bank slope in such a way
         That we may descend to the next pocket,
         We could escape the chase we both have pictured."
 
         He’d hardly finished setting forth his plan
35       When I saw them approaching with spread wings
         Not too far off, intent on taking us.
 
         All of a sudden my guide snatched me up,
         Just as a mother waking to a roar
         And seeing flames bursting next to her
 
40       Snatches her son and runs and will not stop —
         She cares much more for him than for herself —
         She does not even pause to put a robe on!
 
         And so down from the height of the hard bank
         Upon his back he slid on the sloping rock
45       Which blocks off one side of the next pocket.
 
         Never water ran along a sluice
         So fast to turn the wheel of a land-mill
         When it courses closest to the paddles,
 
         As my master hastened down that bank,
50       Carrying me held fast upon his breast
         As if I were his son, not a companion.
 
         Hardly had his feet hit down on bedrock
         On the ground below when the fiends were high
         On the ridge right over us — no need to panic:
 
55       For the divine Providence that willed them
         To be placed as servants of the fifth ditch
         Deprived them of all power for leaving it.
 
         Below that point we found a painted people
         Who walked in circles with the slowest steps,
60       Weeping and worn in looks and overwhelmed.
 
         The cloaks they wore had cowls drawn down low
         Over their eyes, made in a similar style
         As those that are made for monks in Cluny.
 
         These are so gilded outside that they dazzle,
65       But inside, solid lead, and so heavy that,
         Compared to them, Frederick’s capes were straw.
 
         O mantle of unending weariness!
         Once again we turned to the left hand,
         Along with those souls rapt in their sad tears.
 
70       But with their weights the tired people trod
         So slowly that we had fresh company
         With every step we took along the way.
 
         At this sight I asked my guide, "Please find
         Someone I should know by deed or name:
75       Let your eyes roam around while we walk on."
 
         And one who had picked up my Tuscan accent
         Shouted out behind us, "Halt your steps,
         You, racing so fast through this murky air!
 
         "Perhaps you’ll get from me what you ask for!"
80       So my guide turned to me, proposing, "Wait,
         Then move ahead according to this pace."
 
         I stopped, and saw two showing in their faces
         Their minds’ restless haste to be with me,
         But their loads and the narrow road delayed them.
 
85       When they caught up, they viewed me with their eyes
         Askance, staring and not uttering a word;
         Then they turned to one another and observed,
 
         "This one seems alive, since his throat moves,
         But if they both are dead, what privilege
90       Lets them go unclad by the heavy mantles?"
 
         Then they said to me, "O Tuscan, you come
         To this chapter of the sorry hypocrites:
         Do not scorn to tell us who you are."
 
         And I told them, "I was born and grew up
95       In the great city by the Arno’s lovely stream,
         And I am in the flesh I’ve always had.
 
         "But who are you whose grief distills such tears
         As I perceive now coursing down your cheeks?
         What is this penance glittering upon you?"
 
100     And one of them replied, "The yellow cloaks
         Are thick with lead of so much weight it makes us
         Who are the scales in the balance creak.
 
         "We both were Jovial Friars, and Bolognese:
         My name was Catalano, his Loderingo;
105      Together we were chosen by your city
 
         "To do what one man usually is assigned,
         Keep the peace, and how much we succeeded
         Still can be seen around the Gardingo."
 
         I began, "O friars, your wicked ..." — but said
110     No more: my eyes caught the sight of one
         Crucified with three stakes on the ground.
 
         When he saw me, he twisted all around,
         Breathing hard into his beard with sighs,
         And brother Catalano, who observed this,
 
115      Said to me, "That one you see nailed down
         Advised the Pharisees it was expedient
         To sacrifice one man for the people.
 
         "Stretched out naked he lies, across the way,
         As you yourself see, and is made to feel
120      The full weight of every passer-by.
 
         "In the same way is his father-in-law racked
         In this same ditch, and the rest of that council
         Which has sowed so much evil for the Jews."
 
         Then I saw Virgil struck with wonder over
125     The one who lay stretched there on the cross
         So ignominiously in unending exile.
 
         He afterwards spoke these words to the friar,
         "Would you please, if it’s allowed, tell us
         If on the right side there lies any passage
 
130      "By which we two can go away from here
         Without compelling some of those black angels
         To come down to this depth to get us out."
 
         He answered then, "Closer than you hope
         There is a rocky ridge that reaches out from
135     The huge round wall and spans all the wild valleys
 
         "Except this broken bridge which does not cross.
         You can climb back up by way of the ruins
         That lie along the slope, heaped at the bottom."
 
         My guide stood awhile, head bowed, then said,
140      "That one who grapples sinners over there
         Gave us a false account about this business."
 
         And the friar: "Once in Bologna I heard
         Described the devil’s many vices, among them
         That he’s a liar and the father of lies."
 
145     With giant strides my guide then hurried off,
         Somewhat perturbed, by the anger in his look.
         At this I left those heavy-burdened souls,
 
         Following the prints of his dear feet.

I have seen horsemen in the past break camp,
         Muster their army and open assault,
         And at times even beat a quick retreat;
 
         I have seen outriders roam your countryside,
5        O Aretines, and seen raiding-parties charge,
         Tournaments clash and jousters galloping,
 
         Some called by trumpets and some by bells,
         By drumrolls and by flares from castle-walls,
         By homemade and imported instruments;
 
10       But never before have I seen horsemen,
         Footsoldiers, or ships that sail by sighting
         Of land or stars move to a stranger bugle.
 
         We walked together along with the ten demons —
         Ah, what fierce company, and yet: with saints
15       In church, with rioters in the tavern!
 
         My whole attention was fixed on the pitch
         To study every aspect of this pocket
         And of the people who, within it, burned.
 
         Just as dolphins do, when with arching backs
20       They signal a storm-warning to the sailors
         To make all hands ready to save the ship,
 
         So here at times to soothe the suffering
         Some sinner showed his back above the top
         And hid again as fast as lightning flashes.
 
25       And just as on the water’s edge of ditches
         Frogs squat with only their muzzles showing,
         To hide their legs and the rest of their fat flesh,
 
         So here on all sides these sinners squatted,
         But the instant Barbariccia stepped forward,
30       They dived back underneath the boiling pitch.
 
         I saw, and still my heart shudders with it,
         One lag behind — just as sometimes one frog
         Will stay back while another leaps below —
 
         And Graffiacane, the closest to him,
35       Hooked him up by his pitch-knotted hair
         And hauled him out — he looked just like an otter!
 
         I knew all of the devils now by name,
         For I had watched them when they were selected,
         And when they called each other, I had listened.
 
40       "Oh Rubicante, see that you get your claws
         Into his back so you can skin and flay him!"
         The whole damned squad shouted all together.
 
         And I: "My master, if you can, please do
         Find out the name of the unfortunate soul
45      Who’s fallen in the clutches of his foes."
 
         My guide, drawing closer to his side,
         Asked him where he came from; he replied,
         "I was born in the kingdom of Navarre.
 
         "My mother placed me in service to a lord,
50       For she had had me by some fly-by-night,
         A destroyer of his goods and suicide.
 
         "Then I served in kind King Thibault’s household
         Where I set myself up by accepting graft:
         And in this heat I render my account."
 
55       And Ciriatto, with two tusks stuck out
         From both sides of his mouth, just like a boar’s,
         Let him feel how one tusk could rip him open.
 
         The mouse had fallen prey to wicked cats.
         But Barbariccia grabbed him with his arms,
60      Yelling, "Stay back there while I’ve got a grip!"
 
         Then he turned his face to my guide and said,
         "Ask once again, if you want to learn more
         From him, before the rest tear him apart."
 
         So my guide: "Tell me then, among the other
65       Sinners, do you know of any Italians sunk
         Under the pitch?" And he: "I just now left
 
         "One soul from near there — would that I were still
         With him beneath the shelter of that pitch!
         These claws and hooks would not then frighten me!"
 
70        And Libicocco snarled, "We’ve stood enough!"
         And with his grapple caught him by the arm
         And, tearing at it, hacked out the skin and muscle.
 
         But Draghignazzo also hoped to lay
         Hooks to his legs; at that the captain whipped
75      About and rounded them with ill-boding looks.
 
         When they’d become a little more subdued,
         Without waiting, my guide questioned the sinner
         Who stood there still, studying his wound,
 
         "Who was the soul you said you had to leave
80       Behind you there when you came to the shore?"
         He answered, "That was Friar Gomita
 
         "From Gallura, a purse for every fraud!
         He had his master’s enemies in his hands
         And treated them so that they sang his praises.
 
85       "He took their cash and let them off scot free,
         As he admits, and in his other dealings
         He was no petty thief but a royal one.
 
         "With him is his cohort Michel Zanche
         Of Logodoro, and their tongues never tire
90       With constant chatter about Sardinia.
 
         "Oh oh, look! there’s another grinding his teeth!
         I’d tell you more but I feel terrified
         That that fiend is all set to scratch my scabs!"
 
         Then their field marshal, facing Farfarello,
95       His eyes rolling with readiness to strike,
         Shouted, "Get back from there, you filthy bird!"
 
         "If it remains your wish to see or hear
         Tuscans or Lombards," the frightened soul resumed,
         "I will call up still more to come to you.
 
100      "But let the Malebranche there stand aside
         So that the souls may not fear their vengeance,
         And I, staying seated in this same spot,
 
         "All by myself, shall make seven surface
         By whistling, a practice that we follow
105     Whenever one of us escapes the pitch."
 
         At this news Cagnazzo raised his muzzle;
         Shaking his head, he sneered, "Listen to that —
         A trick he has thought up to jump back down!"
 
         With that, he who had a store of stratagems
110      Answered, "I am a tricky soul indeed
         When I gain deeper pain for my own partners!"
 
         Alichino could not restrain himself
         And, counter to the rest, said, "If you jump,
         I wouldn’t come galloping after you;
 
115      "Instead, I’ll flap my wings above the pitch-pot!
         We’ll leave this ridge and make the bank a shield
         To see if all alone you can outsmart us!"
 
         O reader, listen to the latest sport!
         Each turned his eyes toward the other shore —
120      The first one was the fiend who most resisted!
 
         The Navarrese picked his time perfectly,
         Fixed both feet on the ground and in a flash
         Leaped out and broke free of the fiend-in-charge!
 
         Each one felt guilt-stricken at being gulled,
125     But chief the one who brought about the blunder,
         So he took straight off and cried, "You’re caught!"
 
         But it did little good, for wings cannot
         Fly faster than can fear: the one dives under
         While the other thrusts up his chest in flight.
 
130      No different is the duck that plunges downward
         With a rush when the falcon closes in
         And then, beaten and bitter, soars back again.
 
         Calcabrina, fuming at the ruse,
         Flew after Alichino; he was hoping
135     The sinner would escape so he could tussle.
 
         And as soon as the grafter disappeared,
         He turned his claws on his air-borne comrade
         And grappled with him high above the ditch.
 
         But the other was a fullfledged sparrowhawk
140     And clawed at him until they both tumbled
         Right in the middle of the boiling pond.
 
         Instantly the heat blew them asunder,
         But then they had no way of lifting off
         Since they had clogged their wings with gluey pitch.
 
145      Barbariccia, fretting with the rest,
         Sent four fiends to fly to the other side
         With all their pitchforks, and swiftly enough,
 
         From here and there they then took up their posts
         And stretched their hooks out to the bird-limed pair
150     Who were already cooked inside the crust.
 
         And so we left them embroiled in that mess.

So from bridge to bridge, talking of matters
         That my Comedy here has no care to sing,
         We traveled on, and we had reached the summit
 
         When we stopped to look at yet another gap
5         Of Malebolge and another empty sorrow:
         And I saw how awesomely dark it was!
 
         Just as at the arsenal of the Venetians
         In wintertime the sticky pitch for caulking
         The seams of the leaky vessels boils —
 
10       Since they cannot then set sail — and instead,
         Some rebuild the keels, some plug up the ribs
         Of hulls that rode on many voyagings,
 
         Some hammer at the prow and some the stern,
         Others cut oars, still others twist new rope,
15      Another sews patches on the jib and mainsail:
 
         So, not by the fire but by the art of God,
         Boiled, there below, a thick and sticky pitch
         Which glue-coated the banks on every side.
 
         I saw the pitch, but in it I saw nothing
20       Except the rising of the boiling bubbles,
         The whole swelling up and sinking down.
 
         While I stared down intently into it,
         My guide, calling to me, "Watch out! Watch out!"
         Drew me to his side from where I stood.
 
25       At that I turned around like someone anxious
         To see whatever he is supposed to shun
         While he remains so dashed by sudden panic
 
         That he won’t stop his flight but will look back:
         And I saw behind us a blackened devil
30       Come running up along the ridge’s length.
 
         Ah, what a ferocious look he had!
         And how fierce his actions seemed to me,
         With his wings wide-open and his light feet!
 
         Upon his shoulders, which were high and pointed,
35       He had loaded a sinner by both legs,
         Gripping him in front by the ankles.
 
         From our bridge he called, "Oh, Malebranche,
         Here is one of Saint Zita’s elders!
         Toss him below while I go back for more
 
40       "To that city which is so well supplied:
         All men there, except Bonturo, are grafters!
         In Lucca they will change no to yes for cash!"
 
         He plunged the sinner down and turned about
         Upon the rocky ridge: no hound freed from
45       Its leash ever chased a thief so swiftly!
 
         The sinner sank and surfaced rear end-up,
         But the demons under cover of the bridge
         Shouted, "The Holy Face has no place here!
 
         "Swimming here is not like in the Serchio!
50       If you don’t want to feel our grappling-hooks,
         Don’t raise yourself up above that pitch!"
 
         They chewed him with a hundred prongs or more,
         Screaming, "Here you frolic under cover!
         See if you can snitch the chance to surface!"
 
55       In just this way might cooks make their helpers
         Plunge the meat down deep into the pot
         With their forks, to keep it from floating up.
 
         My gracious master said, "We don’t want them
         To know that you are here, so crouch down low
60       Behind a crag to give yourself some cover.
 
         "No matter what affronts they offer me,
         Don’t be afraid: I know how things run here,
         And I had a skirmish like this once before."
 
         With this he passed beyond the top of the bridge
65       And, arriving upon the sixth embankment,
         Had need to prove his show of self-reliance.
 
         With just the same rage and roaring of dogs
         When they rush out on some poor passing beggar
         Who stops dead in his tracks and starts to beg,
 
70       So these devils, from beneath the bridge
         Shot out with all their prongs aimed at my guide,
         But he shouted, "Stop being savages!
 
         "Before you would impale me with your forks,
         One of you step forward to hear me out
75       And then resolve to grapple me or not."
 
         They all shouted, "Malacoda should go!"
         Then one of them moved up — the rest stood still —
         And, approaching, asked, "How will that help him?"
 
         "Do you think, Malacoda, I have come
80       So far, as you can see," my master said,
         "Safe from all these counterblows of yours,
 
         "Without the grace of God and a friendly fate?
         Let us pass, since it is willed in heaven
         That I show another along this savage path."
 
85       At this his pride became so crestfallen
         That he let his hook drop right at his feet
         And told the others, "Now, don’t any strike him!"
 
         And my guide said to me, "You, crouching there
         Among the shattered rockpiles of the bridge,
90       Now you can feel safe returning to me."
 
         At that I moved and quickly came to him,
         And the devils pressed forward all together;
         I panicked that they might not keep their pact.
 
         Just so, I once saw soldiers fill with panic,
95       As they filed from Caprona with safe conduct,
         Seeing themselves surrounded by their foes.
 
         With my whole body I pressed against my guide
         And not for a moment would I take my eyes
         From their looks that boded me no good.
 
100      They put out pitchforks, and "Shall I prick him,"
         One said to the other, "on his bottom?"
         And he answered, "Sure, let him have a nick!"
 
         But Malacoda, who all the while was talking
         To my master, whirled around suddenly
105     And yelled, "Stop, Scarmiglione, stop!"
 
         Then he told us, "It’s impossible to go
         Farther along this ridge since the sixth arch
         Lies smashed into pieces at the bottom.
 
         "But if you still are pleased to stroll ahead,
110     Then follow along the bluff until you come
         To another ridge, nearby, that offers crossing.
 
         "Yesterday, five hours from now, marked
         One thousand two hundred and sixty-six years
         Since this bridgeway crashed in ruins here.
 
115      "I am dispatching some of my troop there
         To watch if anyone pops up for air —
         Go along with them; they won’t hurt you.
 
         "Front and center, Alichino and Calcabrina,"
         He started off, "and you too, Cagnazzo!
120     And Barbariccia, lead the squad of ten.
 
        "Take Libicocco and Draghignazzo,
         And tusked Ciriatto and Graffiacane,
         And Farfarello and mad Rubicante.
 
         "Reconnoiter around the bubbling gluepot,
125     And see them safe as far as the next ridge
         That spans all unbroken from den to den."
 
         "O master," I said, "what am I looking at?
         Ah, let us walk alone without an escort:
         You know the way? I want no part of them!
 
130      "If you remain alert as usual,
         Do you not notice how they grind their teeth
         And how they threaten harm with their fierce looks?"
 
         And he: "I have no wish to see you panic.
         Let them grind away all that they want to:
135     They do it to impress the boiling wretches."
 
         They turned around upon the left-face bank,
         But first each pressed a tongue between his teeth
         To sound a signal to their commandant,
 
         And with his ass he blew a bugle-blast.

Now new punishments I must fit to verse,
         Shaping the subject for my twentieth canto
         Of the first canticle on the buried damned.
 
         Already I was fully set to look
5         Far down into the depth that opened to me
         To see its bottom bathed with tears of anguish,
 
         When through the valley’s circling I descried
         People coming hushed and weeping, at the pace
         Followed by processions in this world.
 
10       As my fixed gaze descended lower to them,
         Each seemed bizarrely twisted at the neck
         Between the chin and top part of the chest,
 
         Because their faces turned round to their haunches
         So that they were compelled to walk backwards
15       Since they could not possibly see ahead.
 
         Perhaps a stroke of palsy once has twisted
         Someone so completely, but I doubt it
         For I have never seen a case like this.
 
         May God so grant you, reader, to find fruit
20       In your reading: now ponder for yourself
         How I could keep the eyes in my head dry
 
         When I saw close at hand our human image
         Contorted so the tears streaming from their eyes
         Bathed their buttocks and ran between the cleft.
 
25       I wept, surely, while I leaned back against
         A rock there on that rugged ridge; my escort
         Said, "Still like all the other fools, are you?
 
         "Here pathos lives when its false meaning dies,
         Since who is more pathetic than the person
30       Who agonizes over God’s just judgments?
 
         "Lift up your head, lift it, see him for whom
         The earth cracked open before the Thebans’ eyes
         While they all cried, ‘Where are you rushing off,
 
         " 'Amphiaraus? Why do you flee the battle?’
35       And he didn’t once pause in his headlong flight
         Down to Minos who snatches every soul.
 
         "Look how he’s made a chest of his own shoulders:
         Because he wished to see too far ahead
         He stares behind and takes a backward path.
 
40       "See Tiresias, who changed his likeness:
         Being a man he then became a woman,
         Transforming all the members of his body,
 
         "Until, a second time, he had to strike
         The two lovemaking serpents with his staff
45       Before he donned again his manly down.
 
         "And backing against his belly is Aruns
         Who, in the hills of Luni where the folk
         Of Carrara cultivate the valley,
 
         "Dwelt in a cave among white marble cliffs,
50       And from that vantage with an unblocked view
         He gazed out at the stars and at the sea.
 
         "And she who with her wild disheveled hair
         Covers up her breasts so you can’t see them
         And keeps all of her hairy parts to that side
 
55      "Was Manto, who had searched through many lands
         Before she settled there where I was born:
         On this I want you to hear me for a while.
 
         "After her father Tiresias left this life
         And the city of Bacchus lay enslaved,
60       For long years she wandered through the world.
 
         " High up in lovely Italy, at the foot
         Of those Alps that wall in Germany
         Above Tirol, lies a lake called Benaco;
 
         "A thousand brooks and more, I believe,
65       Bathe Garda, Val Camonica, and Pennino
         With the waters flowing through that lake,
 
         "And in its center is a spot the three
         Bishops of Trent, Brescia, and Verona,
         If ever they should pass that way, would bless.
 
70      "Peschiera, a strong and handsome fortress
         Built against the Bergarnese and Brescians,
         Sits at the low point of the surrounding shore.
 
         "There all the waters which cannot be contained
         Within the bosom of Benaco tumble
75       To form a river down through greening fields;
 
         "As soon as this water starts to course,
         It is known as the Mincio — not Benaco —
         To Governolo where it falls into the Po;
 
         "Not running far, it finds a level ground
80       Where it spreads out and turns into a marsh
         Which is in summer sometimes low and foul.
 
         "Passing that way, the savage virgin saw
         Land there in the middle of the swamp,
         Untilled and barren of inhabitants.
 
85       "There, to flee all human fellowship,
         With her slaves she stopped to ply her arts,
         And there she lived and left her empty body.
 
         "Later the people who were dispersed about
         Gathered to that place, since it was protected
90       By the swamp that ringed it on all sides.
 
         "Over her dead bones they built a city
         And, after her who first picked out the site,
         Without casting lots, they named it Mantua.
 
         "Once far more people dwelt within it,
95       Before Casalodi through his foolishness
         Was taken in by Pinamonte’s tricks.
 
         "I charge you, therefore, if you ever hear
         Another origin claimed for my city,
         Don’t let false stories cheat you of the truth."
 
100     And I said, "Master, this account of yours
         Makes me so sure and so wins all my trust
         That I think other versions just dead coals.
 
         "But tell me if among the people passing
         You notice anyone worth mentioning,
105      For that alone keeps coming to my mind."
 
         To this he said to me, "That one whose beard
         Streams down from his cheeks to his brown shoulders
         Was — when Greece became so drained of males
 
         "That scarcely were there sons for the cradles —
110     An augur, and he set the time with Calchas
         To cut the first ship-cables at Aulis.
 
         "His name was Eurypylus, and of him
         My high tragedy sings in one passage
         Which you know well who know the whole of it.
 
115      "That other one, so thinned-out in the shanks,
         Was Michael Scot, who certainly perceived
         How to play the game of magic fraud.
 
         "See Guido Bonatti; see Asdente,
         Who wishes now he had kept to his thread
120      And shoe-leather, but he repents too late.
 
         "See those wretched women who left needle,
         Spool, and spindle for their fortune-telling;
         They cast their spells with herbs and image-dolls.
 
         "But come now; already Cain with his thornbush
125     Stands at the border of both hemispheres
         And touches the waves below Seville,
 
         "And last night’s moon was already round and full.
         Remember her well, for through her in times past
         No harm came to you deep in the dark forest."
 
130     So he spoke to me as we journeyed on.

O Simon Magus! O miserable lot
         Who take the things of God that ought to be
         Wedded to goodness and in your greediness
 
         Adulterate them into gold and silver!
5         Now the trumpet blast must sound for you
         Since you are stashed here into the third pocket.
 
         We had arrived at the next graveyard
         By climbing to that section of the ridgetop
         Which juts right over the middle of the ditch.
 
10       O highest Wisdom, how great is the art
         You show in heaven, earth, and this bad world!
         And how just is the power of your judgment!
 
         I saw along the sides and on the bottom
         The livid rockface all pocked full of holes,
15       Each one alike in size and rounded shape.
 
         No smaller or no larger they seemed to me
         Than are those booths for the baptismal fonts
         Built in my beautiful San Giovanni —
 
         And one of those, not many years ago,
20       I broke up to save someone drowning in it:
         And let my word here disabuse men’s minds —
 
         Up from the mouth of each hole there stuck out
         A sinner’s feet and legs up to the calf,
         The rest of him remained stuffed down inside.
 
25       The soles of both feet blazed all on fire;
         The leg-joints wriggled uncontrollably:
         They would have snapped any rope or tether.
 
         Just as a flame on anything that’s oily
         Spreads only on the object’s outer surface,
30       So did this fire move from heel to toe.
 
         "Who is that sinner, master, who suffers so,
         Writhing more than any of his comrades,"
         I asked, "the one the redder flame licks dry?"
 
         And he: "If you want to be lifted down
35       Onto that sloping lower bank, then from him
         You’ll learn about himself and his wrongdoings."
 
         And I: "My pleasure is what pleases you.
         You are my lord, and you know I won’t swerve
         From your will: You know what is left unspoken."
 
40       Coming to the fourth causeway, we then turned
         And, bearing to the left, still descended
         Down to the strait and perforated bottom.
 
         And my kind master did not put me down
         From his side till he’d brought me to the hole
45       Of the sinner who shed tears with his shanks.
 
         "O whatever you are, sorrowful soul,
         Planted like a stake with your top downward,"
         I started out, "say something, if you can."
 
         I stood there like a friar hearing confession
50       From a foul assassin who, once fixed in place,
         To delay execution calls him back again.
 
         And he cried, "Are you already standing there,
         Are you already standing there, Boniface?
         By several years the record lied to me!
 
55       "Are you so quickly glutted with the wealth
         Which did not make you fear to take by guile
         The lovely lady and then lay her waste?"
 
         I acted like a person who’s left standing —
         Not comprehending what’s been said to him —
60       Half-mocked and at a loss to make an answer.
 
         Then Virgil spoke up, "Tell him right away,
         ‘I am not he, I’m not the one you think!’ "
         And I replied as I had been instructed.
 
         At this the spirit twisted both feet wildly;
65       Then, sighing deeply, with a voice in tears,
         He asked, "What, then, do you demand of me?
 
         "If to know who I am has so compelled you
         That you continued down this bank, then know
         Once I was vested in the papal mantle,
 
70       "And truly I was a son of the she-bear,
         So avid to advance my cubs that up there
         I pocketed the money and here, myself.
 
         "Under my head have been dragged the others
         Who went, by way of simony, before me,
75       Squashed flat in the fissures of the stone.
 
         "I shall plunge down there, in my turn, when
         The one I took you for — while thrusting at you
         That question so abruptly — will arrive here.
 
         "But a longer time now have I baked my feet
80       And stood like this upside-down than he
         Will stay planted with his red-hot feet up!
 
         "For after him will come one fouler in deeds,
         A lawless shepherd from the westward land,
         One fit to cover up both him and me.
 
85       "He’ll be a new Jason, like him we read of
         In Maccabees; just as Jason’s king was kind,
         So shall the king of France be kind to him."
 
         I do not know if now I grew too brash,
         But I replied to him in the same measure,
90       "Well, then, tell me: how costly was the treasure
 
         "That our Lord demanded of Saint Peter
         Before he gave the keys into his keeping?
         Surely he said only ‘Follow me.’
 
         "Nor did Peter or the rest take gold
95       Or silver from Matthias when they chose him
         By lot to take the place the traitor lost.
 
         "Stay put, therefore, since you are justly punished,
         And guard with care the ill-acquired money
         That made you so high-handed against Charles.
 
100     "And were it not that I as yet feel bound
         By my deep reverence for the mighty keys
         Which you once held in the lighthearted life,
 
         "I would here utter words still far more bitter,
         Because your avarice afflicts the world,
105     Trampling good men and vaulting evildoers.
 
         "You are the shepherds the evangelist meant
         When he saw ‘she who sits upon the waters’
         Fornicating with the kings of earth.
 
         "She is the one born with the seven heads
110     Who from her ten horns begot all her strength
         So long as virtue was her bridegroom’s pleasure.
 
         "A god of gold and silver you have fashioned!
         How do you differ from idolators
         Except they worship one god — you a hundred?
 
115     "Ah, Constantine, how much foul harm was fostered,
         Not by your conversion but by the dowry
         Which the first wealthy father took from you?"
 
         And while I chanted him these notes — whether
         Bitten by his anger or his conscience —
120     He gave a vicious kick with his two feet.
 
         I honestly believe my guide was pleased,
         So contented was his look while he kept listening
         To the sound of these true-spoken words.
 
         At that he took me within both his arms
125      And, when he held me wholly to his breast,
         Climbed up the path that he had once come down.
 
         Nor did he weary of clasping me to himself,
         But carried me to the crest of the arch
         That crosses from the fourth to the fifth causeway.
 
130     Here he gently set down his heavy load,
         Gently because of the steep and craggy ridge
         Which even goats would have found hard to pass.
 
         From there another valley opened before me.

Lodged in hell is a place called Malebolge,
         All made of stone the color of iron ore,
         As is the cliff wall that encloses it.
 
         Right in the middle of this cankered field
5        A broad and deep-cut chasm opens up —
         In its place I shall describe its structure.
 
         The belt, then, that is left between the chasm
         And the steep stony cliff, forms a circle
         And its bottom has been sliced into ten valleys.
 
10        Just as, where moat on moat encompasses
         A castle to defend its central walls,
         The ground in which they’re dug shapes a design,
 
         Such a pattern here these ditches formed;
         And as such fortresses have footbridges
15       Out from their gates up to the outer banks
 
         So from the bottom of the cliff ran ridges
         Which crossed above the embankments and ditches
         Up to the chasm where they end and merge.
 
         In this spot we found ourselves, dismounted
20       From the back of Geryon; the poet
         Kept to the left and I walked on behind him.
 
         At my right hand I saw fresh cause for pathos,
         Fresh punishments and fresh torturers
         That fully crammed the first of the ten pockets.
 
25       Naked sinners filed by on the bottom:
         On the near side they came facing toward us,
         On the other they moved along with us, but faster:
 
         So the Romans, because of the huge crowds
         During Jubilee year, have people pass
30       Over the bridge so that on the other side all face
 
         (According to the plan fixed to divide them)
         Toward the Castle and walk to Saint Peter’s,
         While on the other they walk toward the Mount.
 
         This side and that, along the gloom-filled rock,
35       I saw horned devils with their huge long whips
         Cruelly lashing those sinners from behind.
 
         Ah how they forced them to lift up their heels
         At the first strokes! There was nobody there
         Who waited for the second or the third!
 
40       While I moved on, my eye caught someone else’s,
         And immediately I said to myself,
         "Surely I have seen this one before."
 
         So I held up my steps to stare at him,
         And my kindly guide halted with me
45       And gave me leave to go a short way back.
 
         That scourged spirit thought that he could hide
         By lowering his head, but little it helped him,
         For I said, "You who gaze upon the ground,
 
         "Unless the features which you wear are false,
50       You are Venedico Caccianemico:
         But what put you in such a juicy pickle?"
 
         And he replied, "I tell it unwillingly,
         But your plain speech forces me to do it
         By reminding me of that world of old.
 
55       "I was the one who led Ghisolabella
         To satisfy the will of the Marquis,
         Whatever way the vile tale is reported.
 
         "But I am not the only Bolognese
         Weeping here; this place is so full of them
60       That not so many tongues have learned to say
 
         "Sipa between the Savena and Reno:
         And if you want a proof or witness for this,
         Recall to mind our sense of greediness."
 
         While he was talking a devil lashed at him
65       With his whip and cried out, "On your way, pimp!
         There are no women here for you to con."
 
         I turned back to be once more with my escort.
         Then, a few steps forward, we walked up
         To where a ridge out-jutted from the bank.
 
70       We climbed across it with no difficulty
         And, turning to the right along its crest,
         We left behind those everlasting circlings.
 
         When we had reached the spot where the ridgeline
         Yawns open to let the scourged pass below,
75       My guide said, "Stop and make sure that the sight
 
         "Of these other misbegotten souls strikes you:
         Their faces you have not observed before
         As they were moving the same direction we were."
 
         From the old bridge we gazed down at the troop
80       Coming toward us along the other tract,
         And they were likewise driven by the lash.
 
         Even without my asking, my good master
         Spoke up, "Look at that mighty one approaching
         Who does not seem to shed a tear for pain.
 
85       "What a kingly look he still retains!
         That is Jason, who with heart and brains
         Robbed Colchis of the gold fleece of their ram.
 
         "He voyaged to the island of Lemnos
         After the brash and merciless women
90       Had put all of their menfolk to the sword.
 
         "There with his love tokens and stylish words
         He beguiled the young Hypsipyle
         Who had first beguiled the other women.
 
         "There he left her, pregnant and forsaken:
95       Such sin condemns him to such punishment,
         And for Medea, too, is vengeance wreaked.
 
         ‘With him go all the beguilers of others —
         Let this now be enough for you to know
         Of the first valley and sinners in its jaws."
 
100      We had already come where the narrow path
         Crosses over to the second bank
         To form a new support for another arch.
 
         From there we heard people in the next pocket
         Whining and snorting gruffly from their snouts
105     And whacking themselves with flat open palms.
 
         The banks were coated with a slimy mold
         From exhalations below; it stuck to them,
         Attacking eyes and nose with stinging must.
 
         The bottom was so deep we could not see it
110     Anywhere, except by climbing up the spine
         Of the arch where the ridge rises highest.
 
         Here we arrived, and down there in the ditch
         I saw a people plunged in excrement
         As if it had been dumped from men’s latrines.
 
115      And as I searched below there with my eyes
         I saw one with his head so smeared with shit
         You could not tell if he were lay or cleric.
 
         He yelled up at me, "Why are you more greedy
         To stare at me than at the other scum?"
120      And I: "Because, if I remember rightly,
 
         "I have seen you before with your hair dry:
         And so I eye you more than all the rest.
         You are Alessio Interminei of Lucca."
 
         And he, smacking his squash, replied to me,
125      "Down here I am sunk by the flatteries
         That my tongue never tired of repeating."
 
         After this my teacher said to me,
         "Stretch your head forward a little farther
         So that your eyes may clearly catch the face
 
130      "Of that slatternly and smutty slut
         Who scratches herself with shit-blackened nails,
         Now squatting and now staggering to her feet.
 
         "She is Thais the whore, who when her lover
         Asked, ‘Are you very grateful to me?' answered,
135     ‘Very! Why, extravagantly so!’
 
         "But now our sight has had enough of this."

"Look at the beast with the pointed tail!
         He passes mountains, smashes walls and weapons!
         Look at the one that smells up the whole world!"
 
         This way my guide began to talk to me
5         As he signaled the beast to land on shore
         Close to the edge of our stone-paved pathway.
 
         And that repugnant picture of pure fraud
         Came on, landing his head and his chest first,
         But darting his tail out beyond the bank.
 
10       His face was the face of a saintly person,
         So placid was the surface of the skin,
         But his whole trunk was the shape of a snake.
 
         He had two paws, with hair up to his armpits;
         His back and breasts and both of his flanks
15      Were painted gaudily with knots and loops.
 
         Tartars or Turks never wove a cloth
         With more colors in background and design,
         Nor did Arachne ever loom such webs.
 
         Just as boats sometimes lie on shore
20       Half in the water and half still on land,
         And just as there among the guzzling Germans
 
         The beaver crouches ready to do battle,
         So did that worst of all wild beasts lay there
         On the rim of stone bordering the sand.
 
25       Out in the void all his tail stretched quivering,
         Twisting in the air its poisonous fork
         Which had a tip armed like a scorpion’s.
 
         My leader said, "Now we had better veer
         Our way slightly, until we come as far
30       As that wicked beast squatting over there."
 
         We stepped down, then, to the right-hand breast,
         And walked ten paces out along the ledge
         To keep wholly clear of the sand and flame.
 
         And when we had walked up to Geryon,
35       I noticed on the sand, a bit farther on,
         People sitting next to empty space.
 
         Here my master said to me, "That you may
         Acquire the full experience this ring offers,
         Go now and see the state that they are in.
 
40       "But let your conversation there be brief.
         Till you come back, I shall talk with this beast
         To have him lend us his strong shoulders."
 
         So still farther along the utmost brink
         Of that seventh circle I walked alone
45       To where the people deep in mourning sat.
 
         Misery was bursting from their eyes;
         This way and that, they ward off with their hands
         One time the flames and next the burning sands,
 
         No differently do dogs in summertime,
50       Now with muzzles, now with paws, when they are
         Bitten by fleas or gnats or by horseflies.
 
         When I had cast my eyes on certain faces
         Of those on whom the oppressive fire falls,
         I recognized none of them, but I observed
 
55       That from the neck of each there hung a purse
         Having a special color and coat of arms,
         And on his own each seemed to feast his eyes.
 
         While I went among them, looking about
         I glimpsed a purse of yellow upon azure
60       Which bore the face and figure of a lion.
 
         Then, letting my gaze wander over them,
         I saw another purse as red as blood
         Displaying a goose whiter than butter.
 
         And one who had an azure pregnant sow
65       Represented on his small white pouch
         Asked me, "What are you doing in this ditch?
 
         "Now get going — and since you’re still alive,
         You should know my neighbor Vitaliano
         Shall have a seat here soon at my left side.
 
70       "I, a Paduan, am with these Florentines;
         Incessantly they deafen my poor eardrums
         With their shouting, ‘Bring on the royal knight
 
         " ‘Who bears on him his pouch with the three goats!’ "
         At this he twisted his mouth around and stuck
75       His tongue out, like an ox licking its nose.
 
         And I, in fear that any longer stay
         Might vex him who had warned me not to tarry,
         Turned my back upon these worn-out sinners.
 
         I found my guide who had already climbed
80       Up on the rump of that wild animal,
         And he said to me, "Now be strong and stout!
 
         "Our way down from here is by stairs like these.
         You mount in front: I want the middle section
         So that his sharp tail cannot cause you harm."
 
85       As one who, feeling the shivers of a fever
         So close his nails already are turned blue,
         Shudders just at the sight of some cool shade,
 
         So I became when I had heard his words.
         But then I felt the taunt of shame which makes
90       A servant bold before his worthy master.
 
         I hunched down on those monstrous shoulders
         Wanting to say — but my voice did not come
         As I thought — "Make sure you hold on to me."
 
         But he who had at other times helped me
95       In other dangers, as soon as I was mounted,
         Folded me in his arms and held me tight.
 
         He called, "Now, Geryon, get up! Be sure
         To make your circles wide and move down slowly:
         Remember the strange weight that you now carry."
 
100     Just as a rowboat pulls out from its berth
         Backwards, backwards, so that beast pushed off,
         And when he felt himself all free in space,
 
         There where his chest had been he turned his tail,
         Stretching it out and waving it like an eel,
105     While with his paws he gathered in the air.
 
         I do not think the fear was any sharper
         When Phaethon let the sun’s reins drop away
         (The reason why the sky is scorched with stars)
 
         Nor when unhappy Icarus felt his flanks
110     Unfeathering as the wax started melting,
         His father shouting, "You’re going the wrong way!"
 
         Than mine was when I saw that on all sides
         I floated in the air and I saw all
         Sights lost to view except the beast himself.
 
115      He flew on slowly, slowly swimming on,
         Spiraling and gliding: this I knew only
         By the winds in my face and underneath me.
 
         I heard already on my right the whirlpool
         Roaring with such horror there beneath us
120     That I stretched out my neck and peered below.
 
         Then I grew more panicky of going down
         For I saw flames and I heard wailing cries;
         So, trembling, I pressed my legs in tighter.
 
         And then I saw, what I had not seen before:
125      His descent was spiraled, since I saw torments
         On every side were drawing nearer to us.
 
         Just as a falcon, a long while on the wing,
         Who, without spotting lure or prey,
         Makes the falconer cry, "Ah, you’re coming down,"
 
130      Descends, tired, with a hundred turnings
         To where he set out so swiftly, and perches,
         Aloof and furious, far off from his master,
         
         So at the bottom Geryon set us down
         Right next to the base of a jagged rockface
135     And, once rid of the burden of our bodies,
 
         He vanished like an arrow from a bowstring.

Already I was where I heard the rumbling fall
         Of water running down to the next circle,
         Like the sound that a humming beehive makes,
 
         When three shades broke away together,
5         Racing, out of the squad that went on past us
         Under the rain of grating punishment.
 
         They ran toward us, each of them shouting,
         "Stop! You — by the clothes you wear — seem
         To be like someone from our rotten city."
 
10       Ah me, what old and recent wounds I saw
         Seared into their bodies by those flames!
         Just to remember it still gives me pain.
 
         Their shouts caught the attention of my guide.
         He turned his face toward me: "Now wait,"
15       He said; "we must be courteous to them.
 
         "And were it not for the hot darting fire
         Which the nature of this place rains down on them,
         I’d say haste suits you better than it does them."
 
         While we stood still, they once again began
20       Their ancient dirge, and when they came to us
         The three of them together formed a wheel,
 
         As stripped and oiled wrestlers often do,
         First studying their grip and their advantage
         Before they come to blows and holds between them,
 
25       So, wheeling, each one directed his face
          Toward me, so that, in constant motion,
          His neck kept turning opposite his feet.
 
        "If the debasement of this unsteady sand
         And our bare and burnt-out faces," one began,
30       "Makes you feel contempt for our pleas and us,
 
         "May fame of ours induce the soul in you
         To tell us who you are who in such safety
         Can drag your feet, still living, throughout hell.
 
         "He in whose footsteps you see me tread,
35       Although he turns about here, skinned and naked,
         Was of a higher rank than you may think:
 
         "He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
         His name was Guido Guerra — in his life
         Much he achieved by counsel and his sword.
 
40       "The other who thrashes the sand behind me
         Is Tegghiaio Aldobrandi, whose voice
         In the world above ought to have won favor.
 
         "And I who am placed with them in this torment
         Was Jacopo Rusticucci, and surely
45       My hell-cat wife — more than anyone — ruined me!"
 
         If I had found a shelter from the flames,
         I would have hurled myself below with them,
         And I think my teacher would have allowed it.
 
         But since I would have been baked and toasted,
50       Fear conquered my initially kind impulse
         Which first made me so eager to embrace them.
 
         Then I began, "Not disdain, but distress
         For your condition seized me — so deeply that
         It will only leave me slowly, and not soon —
 
55       "At the instant my lord spoke to me the words
         Which led me then to realize that such men,
         Worthy as you are, were coming here.
 
         "I am of your city, and at all times
         I have spoken and heard others speak
60       Of your achievements and your honored names.
 
         "I quit the gall and go for the sweet apples
         Promised to me by my truthful leader,
         But first I must pass down into the center."
 
         "So may your soul long lead on your body,"
65       Once more he answered me, "and may your fame,
         After you have passed on, shed its light,
 
         "Tell us if courtesy and valor still
         Dwell in our city as they did in our day
         Or have they been entirely driven out?
 
70       "For Guglielmo Borsiere, who just joined
         Us in our grief and goes with our comrades,
         With his reports has caused us deep distress."
 
         "The new arrivals and the instant profits
         Have given rise to such pride and unrestraint
75       In you, Florence, that you already weep."
 
         These words I cried out with my face raised high,
         And the three, who took it for my answer,
         Gazed at each other as though they heard the truth.
 
         "If at other times you find it so easy
80       To please other people," all three replied,
         "Happy you to speak so fluently!
 
         "Should you escape, then, from these sunless regions
         And return to view once more the splendid stars,
         When it shall gladden you to say, ‘I was there,’
 
85        "Be sure to tell the people about us."
         At that they broke out of their wheeling circle,
         And, in fleeing, their legs resembled wings.
 
         An "Amen" would take less time to pronounce
         Than it took for the three of them to vanish:
90       And so my master thought it well to leave.
 
         I followed him, and we hadn’t walked on far
         Before the sound of water was so near
         We hardly could have heard each other talk.
 
         Just as that river, which first takes its course
95       From Mount Visco and flows toward the east
         On the left slope of the Apennines —
 
         Called the Acquacheta up above
         Before descending to its lower bed
         And at Forĺ is known as the Montone —
 
100      Roars above San Benedetto dell’Alpe,
         Cascading in a single waterfall
         Where a thousand falls could easily have settled:
 
         Just so, down from one steep and rocky bank
         We found that tainted water so thundering
105      That in no time it would have burst our ears.
 
         I had a cord tied fast around my waist,
         And with it I had thought on one occasion
         To catch the leopard with the gaudy coat.
 
         As soon as I unwrapped the cord completely,
110      Exactly as my guide directed me,
         I passed it to him wound in a tight coil.
 
         At that he swung around toward his right
         And, far out over from the edge, threw it
         Right into the depth of the dark chasm.
 
115      "Surely there will be a strange response,"
         I said to myself, "to this strange signal:
         My master follows it so closely with his eye."
 
         Ah what care men need to show with those
         Who can not only see the outward act
120      But have the mind to read our inner thoughts!
 
         He said to me, "Soon shall come up from below
         What I wait for and your mind dreams about:
         Soon must it be discovered to your sight."
 
         Always, to the truth that seems a lie,
125      As far as he can, one must close his lips,
         For through no fault of his, it still brings shame.
 
         But here I cannot remain silent — reader,
         By the lines of this Comedy, I swear
         (So may my verse attain long-lasting favor)
 
130      That I saw through that thick and darkened air
         A figure come, swimming up toward us —
         A thing to dumbfound any steadfast heart —
 
         Like someone coming up from depths below
         Where he went down to free an anchor snagged
135      On a reef or something else hid in the sea,
 
         Stretching upward and drawing up his legs.

Now one of the stone margins bears us on.
         Above, the river’s smoke throws up a shadow
         Which screens the banks and water from the fire.
 
         Just as the Flemings, between Wissant and Bruges,
5        In terror of the tide that surges toward them
         Build dikes to make the flooding sea recede,
 
         And as the Paduans, along the Brenta,
         Before the heat wave comes to Chiarentana,
         Build walls to defend their towns and castles,
 
10       In the same fashion were these banks constructed,
         Except the builder, whoever he might be,
         Had made them not so high and not so wide.
 
         Already we were so far from the wood
         That I could not have noticed where it was
15       Even had I turned round to look for it,
 
         When we came across a troop of spirits
         Walking along the bankside, and each one
         Stared at us as men at dusk will study
 
         Each other in the light of a new moon,
20       Knitting their eyebrows at us in a squint
         Like an old tailor threading a needle’s eye.
 
         Eyed in this manner by that brotherhood,
         I there was recognized by one who grasped me
         By the hem — and cried, "How wonderful!"
 
25       And I, when he stretched out his arm to me,
         So fixed my eyes upon his burnt-out features
         Even his crusted face did not prevent me
 
         From apprehending him in my mind’s eye,
         And bending down my face to be with his,
30       I asked him, "Ser Brunetto, are you here?"
 
         And he: "My son, pray do not be displeased
         If Brunetto Latini stays back a while
         With you and lets that line trek on ahead."
 
         And I: "With all my heart, I beg you to,
35       And should you want me to sit here with you,
         I will, if he who goes with me permits it."
 
         "My son," he said, "whoever of this flock
         Stops for an instant must stay a hundred years,
         Unable to brush off the burning flames.
 
40        "Go on then. I will walk here at your hem,
         And later I will join my company
         Who pass in sorrow for their endless woes."
 
         I did not dare to step down from the path
         To walk by him; instead I held my head
45       Bowed down like a man reverently walking.
 
         He then began, "What chance or destiny
         Brings you down here before your final day
         And who is this one here who shows the way?"
 
         "Up there above in the sun-brightened life,"
50       I answered him, "I lost myself in a valley
         Before reaching the fullness of my years.
 
         "Just yesterday morning I turned my back
         On it: when I was lost, this one appeared
         To lead me home once more along this road."
 
55       And he said to me, "Follow your own star
         And you cannot miss your harbor of glory
         If I judged you rightly in that lovely life.
 
         "And if I had not died before the time,
60       Seeing how gracious heaven has been to you,
         I should have warmly championed your work.
 
         "But that unthankful, evil-minded people
         Who long ago came down from Fiesole,
         And still have the rock and mountain in them,
 
         "For the good you do shall be your enemy,
65       And the reason is: among the bitter sorb trees
         It is not right the sweet fig should bear fruit.
 
         "The world’s word of old for them was ‘blind’:
         A greedy, envious, and haughty stock,
         Make sure you rid yourself of their bad ways.
 
70       "Your future holds out such honor to you
         That one party and the other will hunger
         For you — but grass does not grow near the goat!
 
         "Let the beasts of Fiesole feed on
         Each other, and let them not touch the plant —
75       Should any still be growing on their dungheap —
 
         "A plant in which lives on the holy seed
         Of the Romans who remained in Florence
         When that nest of foul wickedness was built."
 
         "If my appeal then had been fully granted,"
80       I responded to him, "you would not be
         Still banished from the ranks of humankind.
 
         "For in my memory is etched — it grieves me
         Even now — the dear, kind, fatherly image
         Of you, when in the world, hour by hour,
 
85      "You taught me how man makes himself immortal,
         And I am so grateful that, while I live,
         I will fittingly express it in my speech.
 
         "What you tell me of my course I write down
         And keep it with another text to read to
90       A lady who, if I reach her, shall gloss it.
 
         "One thing at least I purpose to make clear:
         As long as my conscience does not blame me,
         Whatever fate wills I am ready for it.
 
         "Nothing new I hear in this prediction,
95       So let Fortune, as she pleases, rotate
         Her wheel and let the peasant turn his spade."
 
         At this my master twisted his head back,
         Around to his right, and peering at me,
         He said, "Whoever notes this down, listens well."
 
100     But for all that, I did not cease from speaking
         To Ser Brunetto, and I asked who were
         His most noble and renowned companions.
 
         And he told me, "To know of some is good,
         Of others it is better to be silent,
105     As time would be too short for so much talk.
 
         "Briefly, you should know that all were clerics,
         Great men of letters, men of wide repute,
         Dirtied by the selfsame sin on earth.
 
         "Priscian travels with that stricken crowd,
110      And Francesco d’Accorso too, and you may see,
         If you have any appetite for such scurf,
 
        "The one the Servant of Servants transferred
         From the Arno to the Bacchiglione river
         Where he left his organs stretched by sin.
 
115     "I would say more, but my walking and my talk
May last no longer, since I see over there
New smoke billowing upward from the sandbar.
         "People are coming — I must not be with them.
         Let me commend my Treasury to you:
120     In it I still live and no more I ask."
 
         At that he turned and seemed like one of those
         Who at Verona run through the countryside
         For the green cloth, and among them he appeared
 
         The winner of the race and not the loser.