The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso. Dante Alighieri

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The Divine Comedy: Inferno, Purgatorio & Paradiso - Dante Alighieri

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Vociferating, 'Help, good Vulcan, help!'

      Even as he did there at the fight of Phlegra,

       And shot his bolts at me with all his might,

       He would not have thereby a joyous vengeance."

      Then did my Leader speak with such great force,

       That I had never heard him speak so loud:

       "O Capaneus, in that is not extinguished

      Thine arrogance, thou punished art the more;

       Not any torment, saving thine own rage,

       Would be unto thy fury pain complete."

      Then he turned round to me with better lip,

       Saying: "One of the Seven Kings was he

       Who Thebes besieged, and held, and seems to hold

      God in disdain, and little seems to prize him;

       But, as I said to him, his own despites

       Are for his breast the fittest ornaments.

      Now follow me, and mind thou do not place

       As yet thy feet upon the burning sand,

       But always keep them close unto the wood."

      Speaking no word, we came to where there gushes

       Forth from the wood a little rivulet,

       Whose redness makes my hair still stand on end.

      As from the Bulicame springs the brooklet,

       The sinful women later share among them,

       So downward through the sand it went its way.

      The bottom of it, and both sloping banks,

       Were made of stone, and the margins at the side;

       Whence I perceived that there the passage was.

      "In all the rest which I have shown to thee

       Since we have entered in within the gate

       Whose threshold unto no one is denied,

      Nothing has been discovered by thine eyes

       So notable as is the present river,

       Which all the little flames above it quenches."

      These words were of my Leader; whence I prayed him

       That he would give me largess of the food,

       For which he had given me largess of desire.

      "In the mid-sea there sits a wasted land,"

       Said he thereafterward, "whose name is Crete,

       Under whose king the world of old was chaste.

      There is a mountain there, that once was glad

       With waters and with leaves, which was called Ida;

       Now 'tis deserted, as a thing worn out.

      Rhea once chose it for the faithful cradle

       Of her own son; and to conceal him better,

       Whene'er he cried, she there had clamours made.

      A grand old man stands in the mount erect,

       Who holds his shoulders turned tow'rds Damietta,

       And looks at Rome as if it were his mirror.

      His head is fashioned of refined gold,

       And of pure silver are the arms and breast;

       Then he is brass as far down as the fork.

      From that point downward all is chosen iron,

       Save that the right foot is of kiln-baked clay,

       And more he stands on that than on the other.

      Each part, except the gold, is by a fissure

       Asunder cleft, that dripping is with tears,

       Which gathered together perforate that cavern.

      From rock to rock they fall into this valley;

       Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon they form;

       Then downward go along this narrow sluice

      Unto that point where is no more descending.

       They form Cocytus; what that pool may be

       Thou shalt behold, so here 'tis not narrated."

      And I to him: "If so the present runnel

       Doth take its rise in this way from our world,

       Why only on this verge appears it to us?"

      And he to me: "Thou knowest the place is round,

       And notwithstanding thou hast journeyed far,

       Still to the left descending to the bottom,

      Thou hast not yet through all the circle turned.

       Therefore if something new appear to us,

       It should not bring amazement to thy face."

      And I again: "Master, where shall be found

       Lethe and Phlegethon, for of one thou'rt silent,

       And sayest the other of this rain is made?"

      "In all thy questions truly thou dost please me,"

       Replied he; "but the boiling of the red

       Water might well solve one of them thou makest.

      Thou shalt see Lethe, but outside this moat,

       There where the souls repair to lave themselves,

       When sin repented of has been removed."

      Then said he: "It is time now to abandon

       The wood; take heed that thou come after me;

       A way the margins make that are not burning,

      And over them all vapours are extinguished."

      Canto XV. The Violent against Nature. Brunetto Latini.

       Table

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