Harvard Classics Volume 20. Golden Deer Classics

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o’er dry land we pass’d. Next, through seven gates,

      I with those sages enter’d, and we came

      Into a mead with lively verdure fresh.

      There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes around

      Majestically moved, and in their port

      Bore eminent authority: they spake

      Seldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet.

      We to one side retired, into a place

      Open and bright and lofty, whence each one

      Stood manifest to view. Incontinent,

      There on the green enamel of the plain

      Were shown me the great spirits, by whose sight

      I am exalted in my own esteem.

      Electra[26] there I saw accompanied

      By many, among whom Hector I knew,

      Anchises’ pious son, and with hawk’s eye

      Cæsar all arm’d, and by Camilla there

      Penthesilea. On the other side,

      Old King Latinus seated by his child

      Lavinia, and that Brutus I beheld

      Who Tarquin chased, Lucretia, Cato’s wife

      Marcia, with Julia[27] and Cornelia there;

      And sole apart retired, the Soldan fierce.[28]

      Then when a little more I raised my brow,

      I spied the master of the sapient throng,[29]

      Seated amid the philosophic train.

      Him all admire, all pay him reverence due.

      There Socrates and Plato both I mark’d

      Nearest to him in rank, Democritus,

      Who sets the world at chance,[30] Diogenes,

      With Heraclitus, and Empedocles,

      And Anaxagoras, and Thales sage,

      Zeno, and Dioscorides well read

      In nature’s secret lore. Orpheus I mark’d

      And Linus, Tully and moral Seneca,

      Euclid and Ptolemy, Hippocrates,

      Galenus, Avicen, and him who made

      That commentary vast, Averroes.[31]

      Of all to speak at full were vain attempt;

      For my wide theme so urges, that oft-times

      My words fall short of what bechanced. In two

      The six associates part. Another way

      My sage guide leads me, from that air serene,

      Into a climate ever vex’d with storms:

      And to a part I come, where no light shines.

      Argument.—Coming into the second circle of Hell, Dante at the entrance beholds Minos the Infernal Judge, by whom he is admonished to beware how he enters those regions. Here he witnesses the punishment of carnal sinners, who are tossed about ceaselessly in the dark air by the most furious winds. Among these, he meets with Francesca of Rimini, through pity at whose sad tale he falls fainting to the ground.

      From the first circle I descended thus

      Down to the second, which, a lesser space

      Embracing, so much more of grief contains,

      Provoking bitter moans. There Minos stands,

      Grinning with ghastly feature: he, of all

      Who enter, strict examining the crimes,

      Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath,

      According as he foldeth him around:

      For when before him comes the ill-fated soul,

      It all confesses; and that judge severe

      Of sins, considering what place in Hell

      Suits the transgression, with his tail so oft

      Himself encircles, as degrees beneath

      He dooms it to descend. Before him stand

      Always a numerous throng; and in his turn

      Each one to judgment passing, speaks, and hears

      His fate, thence downward to his dwelling hurl’d.

      “O thou! who to this residence of woe

      Approachest!” when he saw me coming, cried

      Minos, relinquishing his dread employ,

      “Look how thou enter here; beware in whom

      Thou place thy trust; let not the entrance broad

      Deceive thee to thy harm.” To him my guide:

      “Wherefore exclaimest? Hinder not his way

      By destiny appointed; so ’tis will’d,

      Where will and power are one. Ask thou no more.”

      Now ’gin the rueful wailings to be heard.

      Now am I come where many a plaining voice

      Smites on mine ear. Into a place I came

      Where light was silent all. Bellowing there groan’d

      A noise, as of a sea in tempest torn

      By warring winds. The stormy blast of Hell

      With restless fury drives the spirits on,

      Whirl’d round and dash’d amain with sore annoy.

      When they arrive before the ruinous sweep,

      There shrieks are heard, there lamentations, moans,

      And blasphemies ’gainst the good Power in Heaven.

      I

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