Harvard Classics Volume 20. Golden Deer Classics

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all parts by the fen. On those dead bones

      They rear’d themselves a city, for her sake

      Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot,

      Nor ask’d another omen for the name;

      Wherein more numerous the people dwelt,

      Ere Casalodi’s madness[142] by deceit

      Was wronged of Pinamonte. If thou hear

      Henceforth another origin assign’d

      Of that my country, I forewarn thee now,

      That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth.”

      I answer’d, “Teacher, I conclude thy words

      So certain, that all else shall be to me

      As embers lacking life. But now of these,

      Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see

      Any that merit more especial note.

      For thereon is my mind alone intent.”

      He straight replied: “That spirit, from whose cheek

      The beard sweeps o’er his shoulders brown, what time

      Græcia was emptied of her males, that scarce

      The cradles were supplied, the seer was he

      In Aulis, who with Calchas gave the sign

      When first to cut the cable. Him they named

      Eurypilus: so sings my tragic strain,

      In which majestic measure well thou know’st,

      Who know’st it all. That other, round the loins

      So slender of his shape, was Michael Scot,[143]

      Practised in every slight of magic wile.

      “Guido Bonatti[144] see: Asdente mark,[145]

      Who now were willing he had tended still

      The thread and cordwain, and too late repents.

      “See next the wretches, who the needle left,

      The shuttle and the spindle, and became

      Diviners: baneful witcheries they wrought

      With images and herbs. But onward now:

      For now doth Cain with fork of thorns[146] confine

      On either hemisphere, touching the wave

      Beneath the towers of Seville. Yesternight

      The moon was round. Thou mayst remember well:

      For she good service did thee in the gloom

      Of the deep wood.” This said, both onward moved.

      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.

      Marvellous darkness shadow’d o’er the place.

      In the Venetians’ arsenal as boils

      Through wintry months tenacious pitch, to smear

      Their unsound vessels; for the inclement time

      Seafaring 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 mizzen one repairs, and main-sail rent;

      So, not by force of fire but art divine,

      Boil’d here a glutinous thick mass, that round

      Limed all the shore beneath. I that beheld,

      But therein naught distinguish’d, save the bubbles

      Raised by the boiling, and one mighty swell

      Heave, and by turns subsiding fall. While there

      I fix’d my ken below, “Mark! mark!” my guide

      Exclaiming, drew me toward 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 advanced 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 charged; 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 ‘ay’ is quickly made.”

      Him

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