The Divine Comedy. Данте Алигьери

mode of punishment read me his name,

      Whence I so fully answer'd. He at once

      Exclaim'd, up starting, “How! said'st thou he HAD?

      No longer lives he? Strikes not on his eye

      The blessed daylight?” Then of some delay

      I made ere my reply aware, down fell

      Supine, not after forth appear'd he more.

      Meanwhile the other, great of soul, near whom

      I yet was station'd, chang'd not count'nance stern,

      Nor mov'd the neck, nor bent his ribbed side.

      “And if,” continuing the first discourse,

      “They in this art,” he cried, “small skill have shown,

      That doth torment me more e'en than this bed.

      But not yet fifty times shall be relum'd

      Her aspect, who reigns here Queen of this realm,

      Ere thou shalt know the full weight of that art.

      So to the pleasant world mayst thou return,

      As thou shalt tell me, why in all their laws,

      Against my kin this people is so fell?”

      “The slaughter and great havoc,” I replied,

      “That colour'd Arbia's flood with crimson stain -

      To these impute, that in our hallow'd dome

      Such orisons ascend.” Sighing he shook

      The head, then thus resum'd: “In that affray

      I stood not singly, nor without just cause

      Assuredly should with the rest have stirr'd;

      But singly there I stood, when by consent

      Of all, Florence had to the ground been raz'd,

      The one who openly forbad the deed.”

      “So may thy lineage find at last repose,”

      I thus adjur'd him, “as thou solve this knot,

      Which now involves my mind. If right I hear,

      Ye seem to view beforehand, that which time

      Leads with him, of the present uninform'd.”

      “We view, as one who hath an evil sight,”

      He answer'd, “plainly, objects far remote:

      So much of his large spendour yet imparts

      The Almighty Ruler; but when they approach

      Or actually exist, our intellect

      Then wholly fails, nor of your human state

      Except what others bring us know we aught.

      Hence therefore mayst thou understand, that all

      Our knowledge in that instant shall expire,

      When on futurity the portals close.”

      Then conscious of my fault, and by remorse

      Smitten, I added thus: “Now shalt thou say

      To him there fallen, that his offspring still

      Is to the living join'd; and bid him know,

      That if from answer silent I abstain'd,

      'Twas that my thought was occupied intent

      Upon that error, which thy help hath solv'd.”

      But now my master summoning me back

      I heard, and with more eager haste besought

      The spirit to inform me, who with him

      Partook his lot. He answer thus return'd:

      “More than a thousand with me here are laid

      Within is Frederick, second of that name,

      And the Lord Cardinal, and of the rest

      I speak not.” He, this said, from sight withdrew.

      But I my steps towards the ancient bard

      Reverting, ruminated on the words

      Betokening me such ill. Onward he mov'd,

      And thus in going question'd: “Whence the amaze

      That holds thy senses wrapt?” I satisfied

      The inquiry, and the sage enjoin'd me straight:

      “Let thy safe memory store what thou hast heard

      To thee importing harm; and note thou this,”

      With his rais'd finger bidding me take heed,

      “When thou shalt stand before her gracious beam,

      Whose bright eye all surveys, she of thy life

      The future tenour will to thee unfold.”

      Forthwith he to the left hand turn'd his feet:

      We left the wall, and tow'rds the middle space

      Went by a path, that to a valley strikes;

      Which e'en thus high exhal'd its noisome steam.

      Canto XI

      Upon the utmost verge of a high bank,

      By craggy rocks environ'd round, we came,

      Where woes beneath more cruel yet were stow'd:

      And here to shun the horrible excess

      Of fetid exhalation, upward cast

      From the profound abyss, behind the lid

      Of a great monument we stood retir'd,

      Whereon this scroll I mark'd: “I have in charge

      Pope Anastasius, whom Photinus drew

      From the right path. – Ere our descent behooves

      We make delay, that somewhat first the sense,

      To the dire breath accustom'd, afterward

      Regard it not.” My master thus; to whom

      Answering I spake: “Some compensation find

      That the time past not wholly lost.” He then:

      “Lo! how my thoughts e'en to thy wishes tend!

      My son! within these rocks,” he thus began,

      “Are three close circles in gradation plac'd,

      As these which now thou leav'st. Each one is full

      Of spirits accurs'd; but that the sight alone

      Hereafter may suffice thee, listen how

      And for what cause in durance they abide.

      “Of all malicious act abhorr'd in heaven,

      The end is injury; and all such end

      Either by force or fraud works other's woe

      But fraud, because of man peculiar evil,

      To God is more displeasing; and beneath

      The fraudulent are therefore doom'd to' endure

      Severer pang. The violent occupy

      All the first circle; and because to force

      Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds

      Each within other sep'rate is it fram'd.

      To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man

      Force may be offer'd; to himself I say

      And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear

      At full. Death, violent death, and painful wounds

      Upon his neighbour he inflicts; and wastes

      By