FLORENCE exult! for thou so mightily Hast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wings Thou beatest, and thy name spreads over h.e.l.l!

Among the plund'rers such the three I found Thy citizens, whence shame to me thy son, And no proud honour to thyself redounds.

But if our minds, when dreaming near the dawn, Are of the truth presageful, thou ere long Shalt feel what Prato, (not to say the rest) Would fain might come upon thee; and that chance Were in good time, if it befell thee now.

Would so it were, since it must needs befall!

For as time wears me, I shall grieve the more.

We from the depth departed; and my guide Remounting scal'd the flinty steps, which late We downward trac'd, and drew me up the steep.

Pursuing thus our solitary way Among the crags and splinters of the rock, Sped not our feet without the help of hands.

Then sorrow seiz'd me, which e'en now revives, As my thought turns again to what I saw, And, more than I am wont, I rein and curb The powers of nature in me, lest they run Where Virtue guides not; that if aught of good My gentle star, or something better gave me, I envy not myself the precious boon.

As in that season, when the sun least veils His face that lightens all, what time the fly Gives way to the shrill gnat, the peasant then Upon some cliff reclin'd, beneath him sees Fire-flies innumerous spangling o'er the vale, Vineyard or tilth, where his day-labour lies: With flames so numberless throughout its s.p.a.ce Shone the eighth chasm, apparent, when the depth Was to my view expos'd. As he, whose wrongs The bears aveng'd, at its departure saw Elijah's chariot, when the steeds erect Rais'd their steep flight for heav'n; his eyes meanwhile, Straining pursu'd them, till the flame alone Upsoaring like a misty speck he kenn'd; E'en thus along the gulf moves every flame, A sinner so enfolded close in each, That none exhibits token of the theft.

Upon the bridge I forward bent to look, And grasp'd a flinty ma.s.s, or else had fall'n, Though push'd not from the height. The guide, who mark'd How I did gaze attentive, thus began:

"Within these ardours are the spirits, each Swath'd in confining fire."--"Master, thy word,"

I answer'd, "hath a.s.sur'd me; yet I deem'd Already of the truth, already wish'd To ask thee, who is in yon fire, that comes So parted at the summit, as it seem'd Ascending from that funeral pile, where lay The Theban brothers?" He replied: "Within Ulysses there and Diomede endure Their penal tortures, thus to vengeance now Together hasting, as erewhile to wrath.

These in the flame with ceaseless groans deplore The ambush of the horse, that open'd wide A portal for that goodly seed to pa.s.s, Which sow'd imperial Rome; nor less the guile Lament they, whence of her Achilles 'reft Deidamia yet in death complains.

And there is rued the stratagem, that Troy Of her Palladium spoil'd."--"If they have power Of utt'rance from within these sparks," said I, "O master! think my prayer a thousand fold In repet.i.tion urg'd, that thou vouchsafe To pause, till here the horned flame arrive.

See, how toward it with desire I bend."

He thus: "Thy prayer is worthy of much praise, And I accept it therefore: but do thou Thy tongue refrain: to question them be mine, For I divine thy wish: and they perchance, For they were Greeks, might shun discourse with thee."

When there the flame had come, where time and place Seem'd fitting to my guide, he thus began: "O ye, who dwell two spirits in one fire!

If living I of you did merit aught, Whate'er the measure were of that desert, When in the world my lofty strain I pour'd, Move ye not on, till one of you unfold In what clime death o'ertook him self-destroy'd."

Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire That labours with the wind, then to and fro Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds, Threw out its voice, and spake: "When I escap'd From Circe, who beyond a circling year Had held me near Caieta, by her charms, Ere thus Aeneas yet had nam'd the sh.o.r.e, Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence Of my old father, nor return of love, That should have crown'd Penelope with joy, Could overcome in me the zeal I had T' explore the world, and search the ways of life, Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sail'd Into the deep illimitable main, With but one bark, and the small faithful band That yet cleav'd to me. As Iberia far, Far as Morocco either sh.o.r.e I saw, And the Sardinian and each isle beside Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age Were I and my companions, when we came To the strait pa.s.s, where Hercules ordain'd The bound'ries not to be o'erstepp'd by man.

The walls of Seville to my right I left, On the' other hand already Ceuta past.

"O brothers!" I began, "who to the west Through perils without number now have reach'd, To this the short remaining watch, that yet Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof Of the unpeopled world, following the track Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence we sprang: Ye were not form'd to live the life of brutes But virtue to pursue and knowledge high.

With these few words I sharpen'd for the voyage The mind of my a.s.sociates, that I then Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn Our p.o.o.p we turn'd, and for the witless flight Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left.

Each star of the' other pole night now beheld, And ours so low, that from the ocean-floor It rose not. Five times re-illum'd, as oft Vanish'd the light from underneath the moon Since the deep way we enter'd, when from far Appear'd a mountain dim, loftiest methought Of all I e'er beheld. Joy seiz'd us straight, But soon to mourning changed. From the new land A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl'd her round With all the waves, the fourth time lifted up The p.o.o.p, and sank the prow: so fate decreed: And over us the booming billow clos'd."

CANTO XVII

NOW upward rose the flame, and still'd its light To speak no more, and now pa.s.s'd on with leave From the mild poet gain'd, when following came Another, from whose top a sound confus'd, Forth issuing, drew our eyes that way to look.

As the Sicilian bull, that rightfully His cries first echoed, who had shap'd its mould, Did so rebellow, with the voice of him Tormented, that the brazen monster seem'd Pierc'd through with pain; thus while no way they found Nor avenue immediate through the flame, Into its language turn'd the dismal words: But soon as they had won their pa.s.sage forth, Up from the point, which vibrating obey'd Their motion at the tongue, these sounds we heard: "O thou! to whom I now direct my voice!

That lately didst exclaim in Lombard phrase,

"Depart thou, I solicit thee no more, Though somewhat tardy I perchance arrive Let it not irk thee here to pause awhile, And with me parley: lo! it irks not me And yet I burn. If but e'en now thou fall into this blind world, from that pleasant land Of Latium, whence I draw my sum of guilt, Tell me if those, who in Romagna dwell, Have peace or war. For of the mountains there Was I, betwixt Urbino and the height, Whence Tyber first unlocks his mighty flood."

Leaning I listen'd yet with heedful ear, When, as he touch'd my side, the leader thus: "Speak thou: he is a Latian." My reply Was ready, and I spake without delay:

"O spirit! who art hidden here below!

Never was thy Romagna without war In her proud tyrants' bosoms, nor is now: But open war there left I none. The state, Ravenna hath maintain'd this many a year, Is steadfast. There Polenta's eagle broods, And in his broad circ.u.mference of plume O'ershadows Cervia. The green talons grasp The land, that stood erewhile the proof so long, And pil'd in b.l.o.o.d.y heap the host of France.

"The' old mastiff of Verruchio and the young, That tore Montagna in their wrath, still make, Where they are wont, an augre of their fangs.

"Lamone's city and Santerno's range Under the lion of the snowy lair.

Inconstant partisan! that changeth sides, Or ever summer yields to winter's frost.

And she, whose flank is wash'd of Savio's wave, As 'twixt the level and the steep she lies, Lives so 'twixt tyrant power and liberty.

"Now tell us, I entreat thee, who art thou?

Be not more hard than others. In the world, So may thy name still rear its forehead high."

Then roar'd awhile the fire, its sharpen'd point On either side wav'd, and thus breath'd at last: "If I did think, my answer were to one, Who ever could return unto the world, This flame should rest unshaken. But since ne'er, If true be told me, any from this depth Has found his upward way, I answer thee, Nor fear lest infamy record the words.

"A man of arms at first, I cloth'd me then In good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so T' have made amends. And certainly my hope Had fail'd not, but that he, whom curses light on, The' high priest again seduc'd me into sin.

And how and wherefore listen while I tell.

Long as this spirit mov'd the bones and pulp My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake The nature of the lion than the fox.

All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted, that the sound Reach'd the world's limit. Soon as to that part Of life I found me come, when each behoves To lower sails and gather in the lines; That which before had pleased me then I rued, And to repentance and confession turn'd; Wretch that I was! and well it had bested me!

The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, Waging his warfare near the Lateran, Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes All Christians were, nor against Acre one Had fought, nor traffic'd in the Soldan's land), He his great charge nor sacred ministry In himself, rev'renc'd, nor in me that cord, Which us'd to mark with leanness whom it girded.

As in Socrate, Constantine besought To cure his leprosy Sylvester's aid, So me to cure the fever of his pride This man besought: my counsel to that end He ask'd: and I was silent: for his words Seem'd drunken: but forthwith he thus resum'd: 'From thy heart banish fear: of all offence I hitherto absolve thee. In return, Teach me my purpose so to execute, That Penestrino c.u.mber earth no more.

Heav'n, as thou knowest, I have power to shut And open: and the keys are therefore twain, The which my predecessor meanly priz'd.'"

Then, yielding to the forceful arguments, Of silence as more perilous I deem'd, And answer'd: "Father! since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall, Large promise with performance scant, be sure, Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat."

"When I was number'd with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark He met, who cried: 'Wrong me not; he is mine, And must below to join the wretched crew, For the deceitful counsel which he gave.

E'er since I watch'd him, hov'ring at his hair, No power can the impenitent absolve; Nor to repent and will at once consist, By contradiction absolute forbid.'"

Oh mis'ry! how I shook myself, when he Seiz'd me, and cried, "Thou haply thought'st me not A disputant in logic so exact."

To Minos down he bore me, and the judge Twin'd eight times round his callous back the tail, Which biting with excess of rage, he spake: "This is a guilty soul, that in the fire Must vanish. Hence perdition-doom'd I rove A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb."

When he had thus fulfill'd his words, the flame In dolour parted, beating to and fro, And writhing its sharp horn. We onward went, I and my leader, up along the rock, Far as another arch, that overhangs The foss, wherein the penalty is paid Of those, who load them with committed sin.

CANTO XXVIII

WHO, e'en in words unfetter'd, might at full Tell of the wounds and blood that now I saw, Though he repeated oft the tale? No tongue So vast a theme could equal, speech and thought Both impotent alike. If in one band Collected, stood the people all, who e'er Pour'd on Apulia's happy soil their blood, Slain by the Trojans, and in that long war When of the rings the measur'd booty made A pile so high, as Rome's historian writes Who errs not, with the mult.i.tude, that felt The grinding force of Guiscard's Norman steel, And those the rest, whose bones are gather'd yet At Ceperano, there where treachery Branded th' Apulian name, or where beyond Thy walls, O Tagliacozzo, without arms The old Alardo conquer'd; and his limbs One were to show transpierc'd, another his Clean lopt away; a spectacle like this Were but a thing of nought, to the' hideous sight Of the ninth chasm. A rundlet, that hath lost Its middle or side stave, gapes not so wide, As one I mark'd, torn from the chin throughout Down to the hinder pa.s.sage: 'twixt the legs Dangling his entrails hung, the midriff lay Open to view, and wretched ventricle, That turns th' englutted aliment to dross.

Whilst eagerly I fix on him my gaze, He ey'd me, with his hands laid his breast bare, And cried; "Now mark how I do rip me! lo!

"How is Mohammed mangled! before me Walks Ali weeping, from the chin his face Cleft to the forelock; and the others all Whom here thou seest, while they liv'd, did sow Scandal and schism, and therefore thus are rent.

A fiend is here behind, who with his sword Hacks us thus cruelly, slivering again Each of this ream, when we have compast round The dismal way, for first our gashes close Ere we repa.s.s before him. But say who Art thou, that standest musing on the rock, Haply so lingering to delay the pain Sentenc'd upon thy crimes?"--"Him death not yet,"

My guide rejoin'd, "hath overta'en, nor sin Conducts to torment; but, that he may make Full trial of your state, I who am dead Must through the depths of h.e.l.l, from orb to orb, Conduct him. Trust my words, for they are true."

More than a hundred spirits, when that they heard, Stood in the foss to mark me, through amazed, Forgetful of their pangs. "Thou, who perchance Shalt shortly view the sun, this warning thou Bear to Dolcino: bid him, if he wish not Here soon to follow me, that with good store Of food he arm him, lest impris'ning snows Yield him a victim to Novara's power, No easy conquest else." With foot uprais'd For stepping, spake Mohammed, on the ground Then fix'd it to depart. Another shade, Pierc'd in the throat, his nostrils mutilate E'en from beneath the eyebrows, and one ear Lopt off, who with the rest through wonder stood Gazing, before the rest advanc'd, and bar'd His wind-pipe, that without was all o'ersmear'd With crimson stain. "O thou!" said he, "whom sin Condemns not, and whom erst (unless too near Resemblance do deceive me) I aloft Have seen on Latian ground, call thou to mind Piero of Medicina, if again Returning, thou behold'st the pleasant land That from Vercelli slopes to Mercabo;

"And there instruct the twain, whom Fano boasts Her worthiest sons, Guido and Angelo, That if 't is giv'n us here to scan aright The future, they out of life's tenement Shall be cast forth, and whelm'd under the waves Near to Cattolica, through perfidy Of a fell tyrant. 'Twixt the Cyprian isle And Balearic, ne'er hath Neptune seen An injury so foul, by pirates done Or Argive crew of old. That one-ey'd traitor (Whose realm there is a spirit here were fain His eye had still lack'd sight of) them shall bring To conf'rence with him, then so shape his end, That they shall need not 'gainst Focara's wind Offer up vow nor pray'r." I answering thus:

"Declare, as thou dost wish that I above May carry tidings of thee, who is he, In whom that sight doth wake such sad remembrance?"

Forthwith he laid his hand on the cheek-bone Of one, his fellow-spirit, and his jaws Expanding, cried: "Lo! this is he I wot of; He speaks not for himself: the outcast this Who overwhelm'd the doubt in Caesar's mind, Affirming that delay to men prepar'd Was ever harmful." Oh how terrified Methought was Curio, from whose throat was cut The tongue, which spake that hardy word. Then one Maim'd of each hand, uplifted in the gloom The bleeding stumps, that they with gory spots Sullied his face, and cried: "'Remember thee Of Mosca, too, I who, alas! exclaim'd, 'The deed once done there is an end,' that prov'd A seed of sorrow to the Tuscan race."