Beholding us descend, each one stood still, And from the squadron three detached themselves, With bows and arrows in advance selected;
And from afar one cried: “Unto what torment Come ye, who down the hillside are descending? Tell us from there; if not, I draw the bow.”
My Master said: “Our answer will we make To Chiron, near you there; in evil hour, That will of thine was evermore so hasty.”
Then touched he me, and said: “This one is Nessus, Who perished for the lovely Dejanira, And for himself, himself did vengeance take.
And he in the midst, who at his breast is gazing, Is the great Chiron, who brought up Achilles; That other Pholus is, who was so wrathful.
Thousands and thousands go about the moat Shooting with shafts whatever soul emerges Out of the blood, more than his crime allots.”
Near we approached unto those monsters fleet; Chiron an arrow took, and with the notch Backward upon his jaws he put his beard.
After he had uncovered his great mouth, He said to his companions: “Are you ware That he behind moveth whate’er he touches?
Thus are not wont to do the feet of dead men.” And my good Guide, who now was at his breast, Where the two natures are together joined,
Replied: “Indeed he lives, and thus alone Me it behoves to show him the dark valley; Necessity, and not delight, impels us.
Some one withdrew from singing Halleluja, Who unto me committed this new office; No thief is he, nor I a thievish spirit.
But by that virtue through which I am moving My steps along this savage thoroughfare, Give us some one of thine, to be with us,
And who may show us where to pass the ford, And who may carry this one on his back; For ’tis no spirit that can walk the air.”
Upon his right breast Chiron wheeled about, And said to Nessus: “Turn and do thou guide them, And warn aside, if other band may meet you.”
We with our faithful escort onward moved Along the brink of the vermilion boiling, Wherein the boiled were uttering loud laments.
People I saw within up to the eyebrows, And the great Centaur said: “Tyrants are these, Who dealt in bloodshed and in pillaging.
Here they lament their pitiless mischiefs; here Is Alexander, and fierce Dionysius Who upon Sicily brought dolorous years.
That forehead there which has the hair so black Is Azzolin; and the other who is blond, Obizzo is of Esti, who, in truth,
Up in the world was by his stepson slain.” Then turned I to the Poet; and he said, “Now he be first to thee, and second I.”
A little farther on the Centaur stopped Above a folk, who far down as the throat Seemed from that boiling stream to issue forth.
A shade he showed us on one side alone, Saying: “He cleft asunder in God’s bosom The heart that still upon the Thames is honoured.”
Then people saw I, who from out the river Lifted their heads and also all the chest; And many among these I recognised.
Thus ever more and more grew shallower That blood, so that the feet alone it covered; And there across the moat our passage was.
“Even as thou here upon this side beholdest The boiling stream, that aye diminishes,” The Centaur said, “I wish thee to believe
That on this other more and more declines Its bed, until it reunites itself Where it behoveth tyranny to groan.
Justice divine, upon this side, is goading That Attila, who was a scourge on earth, And Pyrrhus, and Sextus; and for ever milks
The tears which with the boiling it unseals In Rinier da Corneto and Rinier Pazzo, Who made upon the highways so much war.”
Then back he turned, and passed again the ford.
Inferno: Canto XIII
Not yet had Nessus reached the other side, When we had put ourselves within a wood, That was not marked by any path whatever.
Not foliage green, but of a dusky colour, Not branches smooth, but gnarled and intertangled, Not apple-trees were there, but thorns with poison.
Such tangled thickets have not, nor so dense, Those savage wild beasts, that in hatred hold ’Twixt Cecina and Corneto the tilled places.
There do the hideous Harpies make their nests, Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades, With sad announcement of impending doom;
Broad wings have they, and necks and faces human, And feet with claws, and their great bellies fledged; They make laments upon the wondrous trees.
And the good Master: “Ere thou enter farther, Know that thou art within the second round,” Thus he began to say, “and shalt be, till
Thou comest out upon the horrible sand; Therefore look well around, and thou shalt see Things that will credence give unto my speech.”
I heard on all sides lamentations uttered, And person none beheld I who might make them, Whence, utterly bewildered, I stood still.
I think he thought that I perhaps might think So many voices issued through those trunks From people who concealed themselves from us;
Therefore the Master said: “If thou break off Some little spray from any of these trees, The thoughts thou hast will wholly be made vain.”
Then stretched I forth my hand a little forward, And plucked a branchlet off from a great thorn; And the trunk cried, “Why dost thou mangle me?”
After it had become embrowned with blood, It recommenced its cry: “Why dost thou rend me? Hast thou no spirit of pity whatsoever?
Men once we were, and now are changed to trees; Indeed, thy hand should be more pitiful, Even if the souls of serpents we had been.”
As out of a green brand, that is on fire At one of the ends, and from the other drips And hisses with the wind that is escaping;
So from that splinter issued forth together Both words and blood; whereat I let the tip Fall, and stood like a man who is afraid.
“Had he been able sooner to believe,” My Sage made answer, “O thou wounded soul, What only in my verses he has seen,
Not upon thee had he stretched forth his hand; Whereas the thing incredible has caused me To put him to an act which grieveth me.
But tell him who thou wast, so that by way Of some amends thy fame he may refresh Up in the world, to which he can return.”
And the trunk said: “So thy sweet words allure me, I cannot silent be; and you be vexed not, That I a little to discourse am tempted.
I am the one who both keys had in keeping Of Frederick’s heart, and turned them to and fro So softly in unlocking and in locking,
That from his secrets most men I withheld; Fidelity I bore the glorious office So great, I lost thereby my sleep and pulses.
The courtesan who never from the dwelling Of Caesar turned aside her strumpet eyes, Death universal and the vice of courts,
Inflamed against me all the other minds, And they, inflamed, did so inflame Augustus, That my glad honours turned to dismal mournings.
My spirit, in disdainful exultation, Thinking by dying to escape disdain, Made me unjust against myself, the just.
I, by the roots unwonted of this wood, Do swear to you that never broke I faith Unto my lord, who was so worthy of honour;
And to the world if one of you return, Let him my memory comfort, which is lying Still prostrate from the blow that envy dealt it.”
Waited awhile, and then: “Since he is silent,” The Poet said to me, “lose not the time, But speak, and question him, if more may please thee.”
Whence I to him: “Do thou again inquire Concerning what thou thinks’t will satisfy me; For I cannot, such pity is in my heart.”
Therefore he recommenced: “So may the man Do for thee freely what thy speech implores, Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased
To tell us in what way the soul is bound Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst, If any from such members e’er is freed.”
Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward The wind was into such a voice converted: “With brevity shall be replied to you.
When the exasperated soul abandons The body whence it rent itself away, Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.
It falls into the forest, and no part Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it, There like a grain of spelt it germinates.
It springs a sapling, and a forest tree; The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves, Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.
Like others for our spoils shall we return; But not that any one may them revest, For ’tis not just to have what one casts off.
Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal Forest our bodies shall suspended be, Each to the thorn of his molested shade.”
We were attentive still unto the trunk, Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us, When by a tumult we were overtaken,
In the same way as he is who perceives The boar and chase approaching to his stand, Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;
And two behold! upon our left-hand side, Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously, That of the forest, every fan they broke.