Hell or, The Inferno

“THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:

Through me you pass into eternal pain:

Through me among the people lost for aye.

Justice the founder of my fabric mov’d:

To rear me was the task of power divine,

Supremest wisdom, and primeval love.1

Before me things create were none, save things

Eternal, and eternal I endure.

All hope abandon ye who enter here.”

Such characters in colour dim I mark’d

Over a portal’s lofty arch inscrib’d:

Whereat I thus: “Master, these words import

Hard meaning.” He as one prepar’d replied:

“Here thou must all distrust behind thee leave;

Here be vile fear extinguish’d. We are come

Where I have told thee we shall see the souls

To misery doom’d, who intellectual good

Have lost.” And when his hand he had stretch’d forth

To mine, with pleasant looks, whence I was cheer’d,

Into that secret place he led me on.

Here sighs with lamentations and loud moans

Resounded through the air pierc’d by no star,

That e’en I wept at entering. Various tongues,

Horrible languages, outcries of woe,

Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse,

With hands together smote that swell’d the sounds,

Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls

Round through that air with solid darkness stain’d,

Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies.

I then, with error yet encompass’d, cried:

“O master! What is this I hear? What race

Are these, who seem so overcome with woe?”

He thus to me: “This miserable fate

Suffer the wretched souls of those, who liv’d

Without or praise or blame, with that ill band

Of angels mix’d, who nor rebellious prov’d

Nor yet were true to God, but for themselves

Were only. From his bounds Heaven drove them forth,

Not to impair his lustre, nor the depth

Of Hell receives them, lest th’ accursed tribe

Should glory thence with exultation vain.”

I then: “Master! what doth aggrieve them thus,

That they lament so loud?” He straight replied:

“That will I tell thee briefly. These of death

No hope may entertain: and their blind life

So meanly passes, that all other lots

They envy. Fame of them the world hath none,

Nor suffers; mercy and justice scorn them both.

Speak not of them, but look, and pass them by.”

And I, who straightway look’d, beheld a flag,

Which whirling ran around so rapidly,

That it no pause obtain’d: and following came

Such a long train of spirits, I should ne’er

Have thought, that death so many had despoil’d.

When some of these I recogniz’d, I saw

And knew the shade of him, who to base fear2

Yielding, abjur’d his high estate. Forthwith

I understood for certain this the tribe

Of those ill spirits both to God displeasing

And to his foes. These wretches, who ne’er lived,

Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung

By wasps and hornets, which bedew’d their cheeks

With blood, that mix’d with tears dropp’d to their feet,

And by disgustful worms was gather’d there.

Then looking farther onwards I beheld

A throng upon the shore of a great stream:

Whereat I thus: “Sir! grant me now to know

Whom here we view, and whence impell’d they seem

So eager to pass o’er, as I discern

Through the blear light?” He thus to me in few:

“This shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive

Beside the woeful tide of Acheron.”

Then with eyes downward cast and fill’d with shame,

Fearing my words offensive to his ear,

Till we had reach’d the river, I from speech

Abstain’d. And lo! toward us in a bark

Comes on an old man hoary white with eld,

Crying, “Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not

Ever to see the sky again. I come

To take you to the other shore across,

Into eternal darkness, there to dwell

In fierce heat and in ice. And thou, who there

Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave

These who are dead.” But soon as he beheld

I left them not, “By other way,” said he,

“By other haven shalt thou come to shore,

Not by this passage; thee a nimbler boat

Must carry.” Then to him thus spake my guide:

“Charon! thyself torment not: so ’t is will’d,

Where will and power are one: ask thou no more.”

Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks

Of him the boatman o’er the livid lake,

Around whose eyes glar’d wheeling flames. Meanwhile

Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang’d,

And gnash’d their teeth, soon as the cruel words

They heard. God and their parents they blasphem’d,

The human kind, the place, the time, and seed

That did engender them and give them birth.

Then all together sorely wailing drew

To the curs’d strand, that every man must pass

Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form,

With eyes of burning coal, collects them all,

Beck’ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar

Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves,

One still another following, till the bough

Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;

E’en in like manner Adam’s evil brood

Cast themselves one by one down from the shore,

Each at a beck, as falcon at his call.3

Thus go they over through the umber’d wave,

And ever they on the opposing bank

Be landed, on this side another throng

Still gathers. “Son,” thus spake the courteous guide,

“Those, who die subject to the wrath of God,

All here together come from every clime,

And to o’erpass the river are not loth:

For so heaven’s justice goads them on, that fear

Is turn’d into desire. Hence ne’er hath past

Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain,

Now mayst thou know the import of his words.”

This said, the gloomy region trembling shook

So terribly, that yet with clammy dews

Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast,

That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame,

Which all my senses conquer’d quite, and I

Down dropp’d, as one with sudden slumber seiz’d.

FROM the first circle I descended thus

Down to the second, which, a lesser space

Embracing, so much more of grief contains

Provoking bitter moans. There, Minos stands

Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all

Who enter, strict examining the crimes,

Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,

According as he foldeth him around:

For when before him comes th’ ill fated soul,

It all confesses; and that judge severe

Of sins, considering what place in hell

Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft

Himself encircles, as degrees beneath

He dooms it to descend. Before him stand

Always a num’rous throng; and in his turn

Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears

His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d.

“O thou! who to this residence of woe

Approachest?” when he saw me coming, cried

Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,

“Look how thou enter here; beware in whom

Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad

Deceive thee to thy harm.” To him my guide:

“Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way

By destiny appointed; so ’tis will’d

Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more.”

Now ’gin the rueful wailings to be heard.

Now am I come where many a plaining voice

Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came

Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’d

A noise as of a sea in tempest torn

By warring winds. The stormy blast of hell

With restless fury drives the spirits on

Whirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy.

When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,

There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,

And blasphemies ’gainst the good Power in heaven.

I understood that to this torment sad

The carnal sinners are condemn’d, in whom

Reason by lust is sway’d. As in large troops

And multitudinous, when winter reigns,

The starlings on their wings are borne abroad;

So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls.

On this side and on that, above, below,

It drives them: hope of rest to solace them

Is none, nor e’en of milder pang. As cranes,

Chanting their dol’rous notes, traverse the sky,

Stretch’d out in long array: so I beheld

Spirits, who came loud wailing, hurried on

By their dire doom. Then I: “Instructor! who

Are these, by the black air so scourg’d?” — “ The first

’Mong those, of whom thou question’st,” he replied,

“O’er many tongues was empress. She in vice

Of luxury was so shameless, that she made

Liking be lawful by promulg’d decree,

To clear the blame she had herself incurr’d.

This is Semiramis, of whom ’tis writ,

That she succeeded Ninus her espous’d;

And held the land, which now the Soldan rules.

The next in amorous fury slew herself,

And to Sicheus’ ashes broke her faith:

Then follows Cleopatra, lustful queen.”

There mark’d I Helen, for whose sake so long

The time was fraught with evil; there the great

Achilles, who with love fought to the end.

Paris I saw, and Tristan; and beside

A thousand more he show’d me, and by name

Pointed them out, whom love bereav’d of life.

When I had heard my sage instructor name

Those dames and knights of antique days, o’erpower’d

By pity, well-nigh in amaze my mind

Was lost; and I began: “Bard! willingly

I would address those two together coming,

Which seem so light before the wind.” He thus:

“Note thou, when nearer they to us approach.

Then by that love which carries them along,

Entreat; and they will come.” Soon as the wind

Sway’d them toward us, I thus fram’d my speech:

“O wearied spirits! come, and hold discourse

With us, if by none else restrain’d.” As doves

By fond desire invited, on wide wings

And firm, to their sweet nest returning home,

Cleave the air, wafted by their will along;

Thus issu’d from that troop, where Dido ranks,

They through the ill air speeding; with such force

My cry prevail’d by strong affection urg’d.

“O gracious creature and benign! who go’st

Visiting, through this element obscure,

Us, who the world with bloody stain imbru’d;

If for a friend the King of all we own’d,

Our pray’r to him should for thy peace arise,

Since thou hast pity on our evil plight.

If whatsoe’er to hear or to discourse

It pleases thee, that will we hear, of that

Freely with thee discourse, while e’er the wind,

As now, is mute. The land,1 that gave me birth,

Is situate on the coast, where Po descends

To rest in ocean with his sequent streams.

“Love, that in gentle heart is quickly learnt,

Entangled him by that fair form, from me

Ta’en in such cruel sort, as grieves me still:

Love, that denial takes from none belov’d,

Caught me with pleasing him so passing well,

That, as thou see’st, he yet deserts me not.

Love brought us to one death: Caina2 waits

The soul, who spilt our life.” Such were their words;

At hearing which downward I bent my looks,

And held them there so long, that the bard cried:

“What art thou pond’ring?” I in answer thus:

“Alas! by what sweet thoughts, what fond desire

Must they at length to that ill pass have reach’d!”

Then turning, I to them my speech address’d.

And thus began: “Francesca!3 your sad fate

Even to tears my grief and pity moves.

But tell me; in the time of your sweet sighs,

By what, and how love granted, that ye knew

Your yet uncertain wishes?” She replied:

“No greater grief than to remember days

Of joy, when mis’ry is at hand! That kens

Thy learn’d instructor. Yet so eagerly

If thou art bent to know the primal root,

From whence our love gat being, I will do,

As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day

For our delight we read of Lancelot,4

How him love thrall’d. Alone we were, and no

Suspicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading

Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue

Fled from our alter’d cheek. But at one point

Alone we fell. When of that smile we read,

The wished smile, rapturously kiss’d

By one so deep in love, then he, who ne’er

From me shall separate, at once my lips

All trembling kiss’d. The book and writer both

Were love’s purveyors. In its leaves that day

We read no more.” While thus one spirit spake,

The other wail’d so sorely, that heartstruck

I through compassion fainting, seem’d not far

From death, and like a corpse fell to the ground.

MY sense reviving, that erewhile had droop’d

With pity for the kindred shades, whence grief

O’ercame me wholly, straight around I see

New torments, new tormented souls, which way

Soe’er I move, or turn, or bend my sight.

In the third circle I arrive, of show’rs

Ceaseless, accursed, heavy, and cold, unchang’d

For ever, both in kind and in degree.

Large hail, discolour’d water, sleety flaw

Through the dun midnight air stream’d down amain:

Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell.

Cerberus, cruel monster, fierce and strange,

Through his wide threefold throat barks as a dog

Over the multitude immers’d beneath.

His eyes glare crimson, black his unctuous beard,

His belly large, and claw’d the hands, with which

He tears the spirits, flays them, and their limbs

Piecemeal disparts. Howling there spread, as curs,

Under the rainy deluge, with one side

The other screening, oft they roll them round,

A wretched, godless crew. When that great worm1

Descried us, savage Cerberus, he op’d

His jaws, and the fangs show’d us; not a limb

Of him but trembled. Then my guide, his palms

Expanding on the ground, thence filled with earth

Rais’d them, and cast it in his ravenous maw.

E’en as a dog, that yelling bays for food

His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall

His fury, bent alone with eager haste

To swallow it; so dropp’d the loathsome cheeks

Of demon Cerberus, who thund’ring stuns

The spirits, that they for deafness wish in vain.

We, o’er the shades thrown prostrate by the brunt

Of the heavy tempest passing, set our feet

Upon their emptiness, that substance seem’d.

They all along the earth extended lay

Save one, that sudden rais’d himself to sit,

Soon as that way he saw us pass. “O thou!”

He cried, “who through the infernal shades art led,

Own, if again thou know’st me. Thou wast fram’d

Or ere my frame was broken.” I replied:

“The anguish thou endur’st perchance so takes

Thy form from my remembrance, that it seems

As if I saw thee never. But inform

Me who thou art, that in a place so sad

Art set, and in such torment, that although

Other be greater, more disgustful none

Can be imagin’d.” He in answer thus:

“Thy city heap’d with envy to the brim,

Ay that the measure overflows its bounds,

Held me in brighter days. Ye citizens

Were wont to name me Ciacco.2 For the sin

Of glutt’ny, damned vice, beneath this rain,

E’en as thou see’st, I with fatigue am worn;

Nor I sole spirit in this woe: all these

Have by like crime incurr’d like punishment.”

No more he said, and I my speech resum’d:

“Ciacco! thy dire affliction grieves me much,

Even to tears. But tell me, if thou know’st,

What shall at length befall the citizens

Of the divided city;3 whether any just one

Inhabit there: and tell me of the cause,

Whence jarring discord hath assail’d it thus?”

He then: “After long striving they will come

To blood; and the wild party from the woods4

Will chase the other5 with much injury forth.

Then it behoves, that this must fall,6 within

Three solar circles;7 and the other rise

By borrow’d force of one, who under shore

Now rests.8 It shall a long space hold aloof

Its forehead, keeping under heavy weight

The other oppress’d, indignant at the load,

And grieving sore. The just are two in number,9

But they neglected. Av’rice, envy, pride,

Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all

On fire.” Here ceas’d the lamentable sound;

And I continu’d thus: “Still would I learn

More from thee, farther parley still entreat.

Of Farinata and Tegghiaio10 say,

They who so well deserv’d, of Giacopo,11

Arrigo, Mosca,12 and the rest, who bent

Their minds on working good. Oh! tell me where

They bide, and to their knowledge let me come.

For I am press’d with keen desire to hear,

If heaven’s sweet cup or poisonous drug of hell

Be to their lip assign’d.” He answer’d straight:

“These are yet blacker spirits. Various crimes

Have sunk them deeper in the dark abyss.

If thou so far descendest, thou mayst see them.

But to the pleasant world when thou return’st,

Of me make mention, I entreat thee, there.

No more I tell thee, answer thee no more.”

This said, his fixed eyes he turn’d askance,

A little ey’d me, then bent down his head,

And ’midst his blind companions with it fell.

When thus my guide: “No more his bed he leaves,

Ere the last angel-trumpet blow. The Power

Adverse to these shall then in glory come,

Each one forthwith to his sad tomb repair,

Resume his fleshly vesture and his form,

And hear the eternal doom re-echoing rend

The vault.” So pass’d we through that mixture foul

Of spirits and rain, with tardy steps; meanwhile

Touching, though slightly, on the life to come.

For thus I question’d: “Shall these tortures, Sir!

When the great sentence passes, be increas’d,

Or mitigated, or as now severe?”

He then: “Consult thy knowledge; that decides

That as each thing to more perfection grows,

It feels more sensibly both good and pain.

Though ne’er to true perfection may arrive

This race accurs’d, yet nearer then than now

They shall approach it.” Compassing that path

Circuitous we journeyed, and discourse

Much more than I relate between us pass’d:

Till at the point, where the steps led below,

Arriv’d, there Plutus, the great foe, we found.

“AH me! O Satan! Satan!”1 loud exclaim’d

Plutus, in accent hoarse of wild alarm:

And the kind sage, whom no event surpris’d,

To comfort me thus spake: “Let not thy fear

Harm thee, for power in him, be sure, is none

To hinder down this rock thy safe descent.”

Then to that sworn lip turning, “ Peace!” he cried,

“Curs’d wolf! thy fury inward on thyself

Prey, and consume thee! Through the dark profound

Not without cause he passes. So ’t is will’d

On high, there where the great Archangel pour’d

Heav’n’s vengeance on the first adulterer proud.”

As sails full spread and bellying with the wind

Drop suddenly collaps’d, if the mast split;

So to the ground down dropp’d the cruel fiend.

Thus we, descending to the fourth steep ledge,

Gain’d on the dismal shore, that all the woe

Hems in of all the universe. Ah me!

Almighty Justice! in what store thou heap’st

New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld!

Wherefore doth fault of ours bring us to this?

E’en as a billow, on Charybdis rising,

Against encounter’d billow dashing breaks;

Such is the dance this wretched race must lead,

Whom more than elsewhere numerous here I found,

From one side and the other, with loud voice,

Both roll’d on weights by main forge of their breasts,

Then smote together, and each one forthwith

Roll’d them back voluble, turning again,

Exclaiming these, “Why holdest thou so fast?”

Those answering, “And why castest thou away?”

So still repeating their despiteful song,

They to the opposite point on either hand

Travers’d the horrid circle: then arriv’d,

Both turn’d them round, and through the middle space

Conflicting met again. At sight whereof

I, stung with grief, thus spake: “O say, my guide!

What race is this? Were these, whose heads are shorn,

On our left hand, all sep’rate to the church?”

He straight replied: “In their first life these all

In mind were so distorted, that they made,

According to due measure, of their wealth,

No use. This clearly from their words collect,

Which they howl forth, at each extremity

Arriving of the circle, where their crime

Contrary’ in kind disparts them. To the church

Were separate those, that with no hairy cowls

Are crown’d, both Popes and Cardinals, o’er whom

Av’rice dominion absolute maintains.”

I then: “Mid such as these some needs must be,

Whom I shall recognize, that with the blot

Of these foul sins were stain’d.” He answering thus:

“Vain thought conceiv’st thou. That ignoble life,

Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,

And to all knowledge indiscernible.

Forever they shall meet in this rude shock:

These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,

Those with close-shaven locks. That ill they gave,

And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world

Depriv’d, and set them at this strife, which needs

No labour’d phrase of mine to set if off.

Now may’st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,

The goods committed into fortune’s hands,

For which the human race keep such a coil!

Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,

Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls

Might purchase rest for one.” I thus rejoin’d:

“My guide! of thee this also would I learn;

This fortune, that thou speak’st of, what it is,

Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?”

He thus: “O beings blind! what ignorance

Besets you? Now my judgment hear and mark.

He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,

The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers

To guide them, so that each part shines to each,

Their light in equal distribution pour’d.

By similar appointment he ordain’d

Over the world’s bright images to rule.

Superintendence of a guiding hand

And general minister, which at due time

May change the empty vantages of life

From race to race, from one to other’s blood,

Beyond prevention of man’s wisest care:

Wherefore one nation rises into sway,

Another languishes, e’en as her will

Decrees, from us conceal’d, as in the grass

The serpent train. Against her nought avails

Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,

Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs

The other powers divine. Her changes know

Nore intermission: by necessity

She is made swift, so frequent come who claim

Succession in her favours. This is she,

So execrated e’en by those, whose debt

To her is rather praise; they wrongfully

With blame requite her, and with evil word;

But she is blessed, and for that recks not:

Amidst the other primal beings glad

Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.

Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe

Descending: for each star is falling now,

That mounted at our entrance, and forbids

Too long our tarrying.” We the circle cross’d

To the next steep, arriving at a well,

That boiling pours itself down to a foss

Sluic’d from its source. Far murkier was the wave

Than sablest grain: and we in company

Of the’ inky waters, journeying by their side,

Enter’d, though by a different track, beneath.

Into a lake, the Stygian nam’d, expands

The dismal stream, when it hath reach’d the foot

Of the grey wither’d cliffs. Intent I stood

To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

Betok’ning rage. They with their hands alone

Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,

Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.

The good instructor spake; “Now seest thou, son!

The souls of those, whom anger overcame.

This too for certain know, that underneath

The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs

Into these bubbles make the surface heave,

As thine eye tells thee wheresoe’er it turn.

Fix’d in the slime they say: “Sad once were we

In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,

Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:

Now in these murky settlings are we sad.”

Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.

But word distinct can utter none.” Our route

Thus compass’d we, a segment widely stretch’d

Between the dry embankment, and the core

Of the loath’d pool, turning meanwhile our eyes

Downward on those who gulp’d its muddy lees;

Nor stopp’d, till to a tower’s low base we came.

MY theme pursuing, I relate that ere

We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes

Its height ascended, where two cressets hung

We mark’d, and from afar another light

Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

The eye could catch its beam. I turning round

To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir’d:

“Say what this means? and what that other light

In answer set? what agency doth this?”

“There on the filthy waters,” he replied,

“E’en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,

If the marsh-gender’d fog conceal it not.”

Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d,

That ran its way so nimbly through the air,

As a small bark, that through the waves I spied

Toward us coming, under the sole sway

Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:

“Art thou arriv’d, fell spirit?” — “Phlegyas, Phlegyas,1

This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;

“No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er

The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears

Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat

Inly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin’d

In his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp’d

Into the skiff, and bade me enter next

Close at his side; nor till my entrance seem’d

The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d,

Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,

More deeply than with others it is wont.

While we our course o’er the dead channel held.

One drench’d in mire before me came, and said;

“Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?”

I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not;

But who art thou, that art become so foul?”

“One, as thou seest, who mourn: “ he straight replied.

To which I thus: “ In mourning and in woe,

Curs’d spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

E’en thus in filth disguis’d.” Then stretch’d he forth

Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage

Aware, thrusting him back: “Away! down there

To the’ other dogs!” then, with his arms my neck

Encircling, kiss’d my cheek, and spake: “O soul

Justly disdainful! blest was she in whom

Thou was conceiv’d! He in the world was one

For arrogance noted; to his memory

No virtue lends its lustre; even so

Here is his shadow furious. There above

How many now hold themselves mighty kings

Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire,

Leaving behind them horrible dispraise!”

I then: “Master! him fain would I behold

Whelm’d in these dregs, before we quit the lake.”

He thus: “Or ever to thy view the shore

Be offer’d, satisfied shall be that wish,

Which well deserves completion.” Scarce his words

Were ended, when I saw the miry tribes

Set on him with such violence, that yet

For that render I thanks to God and praise

“To Filippo Argenti:”2 cried they all:

And on himself the moody Florentine

Turn’d his avenging fangs. Him here we left,

Nor speak I of him more. But on mine ear

Sudden a sound of lamentation smote,

Whereat mine eye unbarr’d I sent abroad.

And thus the good instructor: “Now, my son!

Draws near the city, that of Dis is nam’d,

With its grave denizens, a mighty throng.”

I thus: “The minarets already, Sir!

There certes in the valley I descry,

Gleaming vermilion, as if they from fire

Had issu’d.” He replied: “Eternal fire,

That inward burns, shows them with ruddy flame

Illum’d; as in this nether hell thou seest.”

We came within the fosses deep, that moat

This region comfortless. The walls appear’d

As they were fram’d of iron. We had made

Wide circuit, ere a place we reach’d, where loud

The mariner cried vehement: “Go forth!

The’ entrance is here!” Upon the gates I spied

More than a thousand, who of old from heaven

Were hurl’d. With ireful gestures, “Who is this,”

They cried, “that without death first felt, goes through

The regions of the dead?” My sapient guide

Made sign that he for secret parley wish’d;

Whereat their angry scorn abating, thus

They spake: “Come thou alone; and let him go

Who hath so hardily enter’d this realm.

Alone return he by his witless way;

If well he know it, let him prove. For thee,

Here shalt thou tarry, who through clime so dark

Hast been his escort.” Now bethink thee, reader!

What cheer was mine at sound of those curs’d words.

I did believe I never should return.

“O my lov’d guide! who more than seven times3

Security hast render’d me, and drawn

From peril deep, whereto I stood expos’d,

Desert me not,” I cried, “in this extreme.

And if our onward going be denied,

Together trace we back our steps with speed.”

My liege, who thither had conducted me,

Replied: “Fear not: for of our passage none

Hath power to disappoint us, by such high

Authority permitted. But do thou

Expect me here; meanwhile thy wearied spirit

Comfort, and feed with kindly hope, assur’d

I will not leave thee in this lower world.”

This said, departs the sire benevolent,

And quits me. Hesitating I remain

At war ’twixt will and will not in my thoughts.

I could not hear what terms he offer’d them,

But they conferr’d not long, for all at once

To trial fled within. Clos’d were the gates

By those our adversaries on the breast

Of my liege lord: excluded he return’d

To me with tardy steps. Upon the ground

His eyes were bent, and from his brow eras’d

All confidence, while thus with sighs he spake:

“Who hath denied me these abodes of woe?”

Then thus to me: “That I am anger’d, think

No ground of terror: in this trial I

Shall vanquish, use what arts they may within

For hindrance. This their insolence, not new,4

Erewhile at gate less secret they display’d,

Which still is without bolt; upon its arch

Thou saw’st the deadly scroll: and even now

On this side of its entrance, down the steep,

Passing the circles, unescorted, comes

One whose strong might can open us this land.”

THE hue,1 which coward dread on my pale cheeks

Imprinted, 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,2 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 lore3 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,4 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