at the head of the populace, drove out Casalodi and his adherents, and obtained the sovereignty for himself.
5 “It is not long since there was in this city (Florence) a great master in necromancy, called Michele Scotto, because he was from Scotland.” Boccaccio, Decameron G. viii. N. 9.
6 An astrologer of Forli, on whose skill Guido da Montefeltro, lord of that place, so relied, that he is reported never to have gone into battle, except in the hour recommended to him by Bonatti. Landino and Vellutello speak of his book on astrology. Macchiavelli mentions him in the History of Florence, I. i. p. 24. ed. 1550. “He flourished about 1230 and 1260. Though a learned astronomer he was seduced by astrology, through which he was greatly in favor with many princes.”]
7 A shoemaker at Parma, who deserted his business to practice the arts of divination.
8 By Cain and the thorns (“The Man in the Moon”) the Poet denotes that luminary. The same superstition is alluded to in the Paradise, Canto ii. 52.
Canto XXI
ARGUMENT.—Still in the eighth circle, which bears the name of Malebolge, they look down from the bridge that passes over its fifth gulf, upon the barterers or public peculators. These are plunged in a lake of boiling pitch, and guarded by Demons, to whom Virgil, leaving Dante apart, presents himself; and license being obtained to pass onward, both pursue their way.
THUS we from bridge to bridge, with other talk,
The which my drama cares not to rehearse,
Pass’d on; and to the summit reaching, stood
To view another gap, within the round
Of Malebolge, other bootless pangs.
Marvelous darkness shadow’d o’er the place.
In the Venetians’ arsenal as boils
Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear
Their unsound vessels; for th’ inclement time
Sea-faring men restrains, and in that while
His bark one builds anew, another stops
The ribs of his, that hath made many a voyage;
One hammers at the prow, one at the poop;
This shapeth oars, that other cables twirls,
The mizen one repairs and main-sail rent
So not by force of fire but art divine
Boil’d here a glutinous thick mass, that round
Lim’d all the shore beneath. I that beheld,
But therein nought distinguish’d, save the surge,
Rais’d by the boiling, in one mighty swell
Heave, and by turns subsiding and fall. While there
I fix’d my ken below, “Mark! mark!” my guide
Exclaiming, drew me towards him from the place,
Wherein I stood. I turn’d myself as one,
Impatient to behold that which beheld
He needs must shun, whom sudden fear unmans,
That he his flight delays not for the view.
Behind me I discern’d a devil black,
That running, up advanc’d along the rock.
Ah! what fierce cruelty his look bespake!
In act how bitter did he seem, with wings
Buoyant outstretch’d and feet of nimblest tread!
His shoulder proudly eminent and sharp
Was with a sinner charg’d; by either haunch
He held him, the foot’s sinew griping fast.
“Ye of our bridge!” he cried, “keen-talon’d fiends!
Lo! one of Santa Zita’s elders! Him
Whelm ye beneath, while I return for more.
That land hath store of such. All men are there,
Except Bonturo, barterers: of ’no’
For lucre there an ’aye’ is quickly made.”
Him dashing down, o’er the rough rock he turn’d,
Nor ever after thief a mastiff loos’d
Sped with like eager haste. That other sank
And forthwith writing to the surface rose.
But those dark demons, shrouded by the bridge,
Cried “Here the hallow’d visage saves not: here
Is other swimming than in Serchio’s wave.
Wherefore if thou desire we rend thee not,
Take heed thou mount not o’er the pitch.” This said,
They grappled him with more than hundred hooks,
And shouted: “Cover’d thou must sport thee here;
So, if thou canst, in secret mayst thou filch.”
E’en thus the cook bestirs him, with his grooms,
To thrust the flesh into the caldron down
With flesh-hooks, that it float not on the top.
Me then my guide bespake: “Lest they descry,
That thou art here, behind a craggy rock
Bend low and screen thee; and whate’er of force
Be offer’d me, or insult, fear thou not:
For I am well advis’d, who have been erst
In the like fray.” Beyond the bridge’s head
Therewith he pass’d, and reaching
