The Divine Comedy. Данте Алигьери

stretch'd, and seem'd alone

      By that annoyance wearied. I perceiv'd

      That he was sent from heav'n, and to my guide

      Turn'd me, who signal made that I should stand

      Quiet, and bend to him. Ah me! how full

      Of noble anger seem'd he! To the gate

      He came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat

      Open without impediment it flew.

      “Outcasts of heav'n! O abject race and scorn'd!”

      Began he on the horrid grunsel standing,

      “Whence doth this wild excess of insolence

      Lodge in you? wherefore kick you 'gainst that will

      Ne'er frustrate of its end, and which so oft

      Hath laid on you enforcement of your pangs?

      What profits at the fays to but the horn?

      Your Cerberus, if ye remember, hence

      Bears still, peel'd of their hair, his throat and maw.”

      This said, he turn'd back o'er the filthy way,

      And syllable to us spake none, but wore

      The semblance of a man by other care

      Beset, and keenly press'd, than thought of him

      Who in his presence stands. Then we our steps

      Toward that territory mov'd, secure

      After the hallow'd words. We unoppos'd

      There enter'd; and my mind eager to learn

      What state a fortress like to that might hold,

      I soon as enter'd throw mine eye around,

      And see on every part wide-stretching space

      Replete with bitter pain and torment ill.

      As where Rhone stagnates on the plains of Arles,

      Or as at Pola, near Quarnaro's gulf,

      That closes Italy and laves her bounds,

      The place is all thick spread with sepulchres;

      So was it here, save what in horror here

      Excell'd: for 'midst the graves were scattered flames,

      Wherewith intensely all throughout they burn'd,

      That iron for no craft there hotter needs.

      Their lids all hung suspended, and beneath

      From them forth issu'd lamentable moans,

      Such as the sad and tortur'd well might raise.

      I thus: “Master! say who are these, interr'd

      Within these vaults, of whom distinct we hear

      The dolorous sighs?” He answer thus return'd:

      “The arch-heretics are here, accompanied

      By every sect their followers; and much more,

      Than thou believest, tombs are freighted: like

      With like is buried; and the monuments

      Are different in degrees of heat.” This said,

      He to the right hand turning, on we pass'd

      Betwixt the afflicted and the ramparts high.

      Canto X

      Now by a secret pathway we proceed,

      Between the walls, that hem the region round,

      And the tormented souls: my master first,

      I close behind his steps. “Virtue supreme!”

      I thus began; “who through these ample orbs

      In circuit lead'st me, even as thou will'st,

      Speak thou, and satisfy my wish. May those,

      Who lie within these sepulchres, be seen?

      Already all the lids are rais'd, and none

      O'er them keeps watch.” He thus in answer spake

      “They shall be closed all, what-time they here

      From Josaphat return'd shall come, and bring

      Their bodies, which above they now have left.

      The cemetery on this part obtain

      With Epicurus all his followers,

      Who with the body make the spirit die.

      Here therefore satisfaction shall be soon

      Both to the question ask'd, and to the wish,

      Which thou conceal'st in silence.” I replied:

      “I keep not, guide belov'd! from thee my heart

      Secreted, but to shun vain length of words,

      A lesson erewhile taught me by thyself.”

      “O Tuscan! thou who through the city of fire

      Alive art passing, so discreet of speech!

      Here please thee stay awhile. Thy utterance

      Declares the place of thy nativity

      To be that noble land, with which perchance

      I too severely dealt.” Sudden that sound

      Forth issu'd from a vault, whereat in fear

      I somewhat closer to my leader's side

      Approaching, he thus spake: “What dost thou? Turn.

      Lo, Farinata, there! who hath himself

      Uplifted: from his girdle upwards all

      Expos'd behold him.” On his face was mine

      Already fix'd; his breast and forehead there

      Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held

      E'en hell. Between the sepulchres to him

      My guide thrust me with fearless hands and prompt,

      This warning added: “See thy words be clear!”

      He, soon as there I stood at the tomb's foot,

      Ey'd me a space, then in disdainful mood

      Address'd me: “Say, what ancestors were thine?”

      I, willing to obey him, straight reveal'd

      The whole, nor kept back aught: whence he, his brow

      Somewhat uplifting, cried: “Fiercely were they

      Adverse to me, my party, and the blood

      From whence I sprang: twice therefore I abroad

      Scatter'd them.” “Though driv'n out, yet they each time

      From all parts,” answer'd I, “return'd; an art

      Which yours have shown, they are not skill'd to learn.”

      Then, peering forth from the unclosed jaw,

      Rose from his side a shade, high as the chin,

      Leaning, methought, upon its knees uprais'd.

      It look'd around, as eager to explore

      If there were other with me; but perceiving

      That fond imagination quench'd, with tears

      Thus spake: “If thou through this blind prison go'st.

      Led by thy lofty genius and profound,

      Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee?”

      I straight replied: “Not of myself I come,

      By him, who there expects me, through this clime

      Conducted, whom perchance Guido thy son

      Had