underneath my feet, to weight like theirs
Unused. I pondering went, and thus he spake:
“Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin’d steep,
Guarded by the brute violence, which I
Have vanguish’d now. Know then, that when I erst
Hither descended to the nether Hell,
This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt,
(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived,[86]
Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil
Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds
Such trembling seized the deep concave and foul,
I thought the universe was thrill’d with love,
Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft
Been into chaos turn’d: and in that point,
Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.
But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of blood
Approaches, in the which all those are steep’d,
Who have by violence injured.” O blind lust!
O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on
In the brief like, and in the eternal then
Thus miserably o’erwhelm us. I beheld
An ample foss, that in a bow was bent,
As circling all the plain; for so my guide
Had told. Between it and the rampart’s base,
On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm’d,
As to the chase they on the earth were wont.
At seeing us descend they each one stood;
And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows
And missile weapons chosen first; of whom
One cried from far: “Say, to what pain ye come
Condemn’d, who down this steep have journey’d. Speak
From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw.”
To whom my guide: “Our answer shall be made
To Chiron, there, when nearer him we come.
Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash.”
Then me he touch’d and spake: “Nessus is this,
Who for the fair Deïanira died,
And wrought himself revenge[87] or his own fate.
He in the midst, that on his breast looks down,
Is the great Chiron who Achilles nursed;
That other, Pholus, prone to wrath.” Around
The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts
At whatsoever spirit dares emerge
From out the blood, more than his guilt allows.
We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,
Drew near; when Chiron took an arrow forth,
And with the notch push’d back his shaggy beard
To the cheek-bone, then, his great mouth to view
Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim’d:
“Are ye aware, that he who comes behind
Moves what he touches? The feet of the dead
Are not so wont.” My trusty guide, who now
Stood near his breast, where the two natures join,
Thus made reply: “He is indeed alive,
And solitary so must needs by me
Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induced
By strict necessity, not by delight.
She left her joyful harpings in the sky,
Who this new office to my care consign’d.
He is no robber, no dark spirit I.
But by that virtue, which empowers my step
To tread so wild a path, grant us, I pray,
One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,
Who to the ford may lead us, and convey
Across, him mounted on his back; for he
Is not a spirit that may walk the air.”
Then on his right breast turning, Chiron thus
To Nessus spake: “Return, and be their guide.
And if ye chance to cross another troop,
Command them keep aloof.” Onward we moved,
The faithful escort by our side, along
The border of the crimson-seething flood,
Whence, from those steep’d within, loud shrieks arose.
Some there I mark’d, as high as to their brow
Immersed, of whom the mighty Centaur thus:
“These are the souls of tyrants, who were given
To blood and rapine. Here they wail aloud
Their merciless wrongs. Here Alexander dwells,
And Dionysius fell, who many a year
Of woe wrought for fair Sicily. That brow,
Whereon the hair so jetty clustering hangs,
Is Azzolino;[88] that with flaxen locks
Obizzo[89] of Este, in the world destroy’d
By his foul step-son.” To the bard revered
I turn’d me round, and thus he spake: “Let him
Be
