The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (essential books to read TXT) 📕

The neck mov’d ever to the twinkling feet.

“If misery of this drear wilderness,”

Thus one began, “added to our sad cheer And destitute, do call forth scorn on us And our entreaties, let our great renown Incline thee to inform us who thou art, That dost imprint with living feet unharm’d The soil of Hell. He, in whose track thou see’st My steps pursuing, naked though he be And reft of all, was of more high estate Than thou believest; grandchild of the chaste Gualdrada, him they Guidoguerra call’d, Who in his lifetime many a noble act Achiev’d, both by his wisdom and his sword.

The other, next to me that beats the sand, Is Aldobrandi, name deserving well, In the’ upper world, of honour; and myself Who in this torment do partake with them, Am Rusticucci, whom, past doubt, my wife Of savage temper, more than aught beside Hath to this evil brought.” If from the fire I had been shelter’d, down amidst them straight I then had cast me, nor my guide, I deem, Would have restrain’d my going; but that fear Of the dire burning vanquish’d the desire, Which made me eager of their wish’d embrace.

I then began: “Not scorn, but grief much more, Such as long time alone can cure, your doom Fix’d deep within me, soon as this my lord Spake words, whose tenour taught me to expect That such a race, as ye are, was at hand.

I am a countryman of yours, who still Affectionate have utter’d, and have heard Your deeds and names renown’d. Leaving the gall For the sweet fruit I go, that a sure guide Hath promis’d to me. But behooves, that far As to the centre first I downward tend.”

“So may long space thy spirit guide thy limbs,”

He answer straight return’d; “and so thy fame Shine bright, when thou art gone; as thou shalt tell, If courtesy and valour, as they wont, Dwell in our city, or have vanish’d clean?

For one amidst us late condemn’d to wail, Borsiere, yonder walking with his peers, Grieves us no little by the news he brings.”

“An upstart multitude and sudden gains, Pride and excess, O Florence! have in thee Engender’d, so that now in tears thou mourn’st!”

Thus cried I with my face uprais’d, and they All three, who for an answer took my words, Look’d at each other, as men look when truth Comes to their ear. “If thou at other times,”

They all at once rejoin’d, “so easily Satisfy those, who question, happy thou, Gifted with words, so apt to speak thy thought!

Wherefore if thou escape this darksome clime, Returning to behold the radiant stars, When thou with pleasure shalt retrace the past, See that of us thou speak among mankind.”

This said, they broke the circle, and so swift Fled, that as pinions seem’d their nimble feet.

Not in so short a time might one have said “Amen,” as they had vanish’d. Straight my guide Pursu’d his track. I follow’d; and small space Had we pass’d onward, when the water’s sound Was now so near at hand, that we had scarce Heard one another’s speech for the loud din.

E’en as the river, that holds on its course Unmingled, from the mount of Vesulo, On the left side of Apennine, toward The east, which Acquacheta higher up They call, ere it descend into the vale, At Forli by that name no longer known, Rebellows o’er Saint Benedict, roll’d on From the’ Alpine summit down a precipice, Where space enough to lodge a thousand spreads; Thus downward from a craggy steep we found, That this dark wave resounded, roaring loud, So that the ear its clamour soon had stunn’d.

I had a cord that brac’d my girdle round, Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take The painted leopard. This when I had all Unloosen’d from me (so my master bade) I gather’d up, and stretch’d it forth to him.

Then to the right he turn’d, and from the brink Standing few paces distant, cast it down Into the deep abyss. “And somewhat strange,”

Thus to myself I spake, “signal so strange Betokens, which my guide with earnest eye Thus follows.” Ah! what caution must men use With those who look not at the deed alone, But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill!

“Quickly shall come,” he said, “what I expect, Thine eye discover quickly, that whereof Thy thought is dreaming.” Ever to that truth, Which but the semblance of a falsehood wears, A man, if possible, should bar his lip; Since, although blameless, he incurs reproach.

But silence here were vain; and by these notes Which now I sing, reader! I swear to thee, So may they favour find to latest times!

That through the gross and murky air I spied A shape come swimming up, that might have quell’d The stoutest heart with wonder, in such guise As one returns, who hath been down to loose An anchor grappled fast against some rock, Or to aught else that in the salt wave lies, Who upward springing close draws in his feet.

CANTO XVII

“LO! the fell monster with the deadly sting!

Who passes mountains, breaks through fenced walls And firm embattled spears, and with his filth Taints all the world!” Thus me my guide address’d, And beckon’d him, that he should come to shore, Near to the stony causeway’s utmost edge.

Forthwith that image vile of fraud appear’d, His head and upper part expos’d on land, But laid not on the shore his bestial train.

His face the semblance of a just man’s wore, So kind and gracious was its outward cheer; The rest was serpent all: two shaggy claws Reach’d to the armpits, and the back and breast, And either side, were painted o’er with nodes And orbits. Colours variegated more Nor Turks nor Tartars e’er on cloth of state With interchangeable embroidery wove, Nor spread Arachne o’er her curious loom.

As ofttimes a light skiff, moor’d to the shore, Stands part in water, part upon the land; Or, as where dwells the greedy German boor, The beaver settles watching for his prey; So on the rim, that fenc’d the sand with rock, Sat perch’d the fiend of evil. In the void Glancing, his tail upturn’d its venomous fork, With sting like scorpion’s arm’d. Then thus my guide: “Now need our way must turn few steps apart, Far as to that ill beast, who couches there.”

Thereat toward the right our downward course We shap’d, and, better to escape the flame And burning marle, ten paces on the verge Proceeded. Soon as we to him arrive, A little further on mine eye beholds A tribe of spirits, seated on the sand Near the wide chasm. Forthwith my master spake: “That to the full thy knowledge may extend Of all this round contains, go now, and mark The mien these wear: but hold not long discourse.

Till thou returnest, I with him meantime Will parley, that to us he may vouchsafe The aid of his strong shoulders.” Thus alone Yet forward on the’ extremity I pac’d Of that seventh circle, where the mournful tribe Were seated. At the eyes forth gush’d their pangs.

Against the vapours and the torrid soil Alternately their shifting hands they plied.

Thus use the dogs in summer still to ply Their jaws and feet by turns, when bitten sore By gnats, or flies, or gadflies swarming round.

Noting the visages of some, who lay Beneath the pelting of that dolorous fire, One of them all I knew not; but perceiv’d, That pendent from his neck each bore a pouch With colours and with emblems various mark’d, On which it seem’d as if their eye did feed.

And when amongst them looking round I came, A yellow purse I saw with azure wrought, That wore a lion’s countenance and port.

Then still my sight pursuing its career, Another I beheld, than blood more red.

A goose display of whiter wing than curd.

And one, who bore a fat and azure swine Pictur’d on his white scrip, addressed me thus: “What dost thou in this deep? Go now and know, Since yet thou livest, that my neighbour here Vitaliano on my left shall sit.

A Paduan with these Florentines am I.

Ofttimes they thunder in mine ears, exclaiming “O haste that noble knight! he who the pouch With the three beaks will bring!” This said, he writh’d The mouth, and loll’d the tongue out, like an ox That licks his nostrils. I, lest longer stay He ill might brook, who bade me stay not long, Backward my steps from those sad spirits turn’d.

My guide already seated on the haunch Of the fierce animal I found; and thus He me encourag’d. “Be thou stout; be bold.

Down such a steep flight must we now descend!

Mount thou before: for that no power the tail May have to harm thee, I will be i’ th’ midst.”

As one, who hath an ague fit so near, His nails already are turn’d blue, and he Quivers all o’er, if he but eye the shade; Such was my cheer at hearing of his words.

But shame soon interpos’d her threat, who makes The servant bold in presence of his lord.

I settled me upon those shoulders huge, And would have said, but that the words to aid My purpose came not, “Look thou clasp me firm!”

But he whose succour then not first I prov’d, Soon as I mounted, in his arms aloft, Embracing, held me up, and thus he spake: “Geryon! now move thee! be thy wheeling gyres Of ample circuit, easy thy descent.

Think on th’ unusual burden thou sustain’st.”

As a small vessel, back’ning out from land, Her station quits; so thence the monster loos’d, And when he felt himself at large, turn’d round There where the breast had been, his forked tail.

Thus, like an eel, outstretch’d at length he steer’d, Gath’ring the air up with retractile claws.

Not greater was the dread when Phaeton The reins let drop at random, whence high heaven, Whereof signs yet appear, was wrapt in flames; Nor when illfated Icarus perceiv’d, By liquefaction of the scalded wax, The trusted pennons loosen’d from his loins, His sire exclaiming loud, “Ill way thou keep’st!”

Than was my dread, when round me on each part The air I view’d, and other object none Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing, wheels His downward motion, unobserv’d of me, But that the wind, arising to my face, Breathes on me from below. Now on our right I heard the cataract beneath us leap With hideous crash; whence bending down to’ explore, New terror I conceiv’d at the steep plunge: For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear: So that all trembling close I crouch’d my limbs, And then distinguish’d, unperceiv’d before, By the dread torments that on every side Drew nearer, how our downward course we wound.

As falcon, that hath long been on the wing, But lure nor bird hath seen, while in despair The falconer cries, “Ah me! thou stoop’st to earth!”

Wearied descends, and swiftly down the sky In many an orbit wheels, then lighting sits At distance from his lord in angry mood; So Geryon lighting places us on foot Low down at base of the deep-furrow’d rock, And, of his burden there discharg’d, forthwith Sprang forward, like an arrow from the string.

CANTO XVIII

THERE is a place within the depths of hell Call’d Malebolge, all of rock dark-stain’d With hue ferruginous, e’en as the steep That round it circling winds. Right in the midst Of that abominable region, yawns

A spacious gulf profound, whereof the frame Due time shall tell. The circle, that remains, Throughout its round, between the gulf and base Of the