The Divine Comedy

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, 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:” 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 times 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, 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.”