The Divine Comedy (Illustrated Edition). Dante Alighieri

where to descend the precipice

      We came, was rough as Alp, and on its verge

      Such object lay, as every eye would shun.

As is that ruin, which Adice’s stream1

      On this side Trento struck, should’ring the wave,

      Or loos’d by earthquake or for lack of prop;

      For from the mountain’s summit, whence it mov’d

      To the low level, so the headlong rock

      Is shiver’d, that some passage it might give

      To him who from above would pass; e’en such

      Into the chasm was that descent: and there

      At point of the disparted ridge lay stretch’d

The infamy of Crete,2 detested brood

Of the feign’d heifer:3 and at sight of us

      It gnaw’d itself, as one with rage distract.

      To him my guide exclaim’d: “Perchance thou deem’st

The King of Athens4 here, who, in the world

      Above, thy death contriv’d. Monster! avaunt!

He comes not tutor’d by thy sister’s art,5

      But to behold your torments is he come.”

      Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring

      Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow

      Hath struck him, but unable to proceed

      Plunges on either side; so saw I plunge

      The Minotaur; whereat the sage exclaim’d:

      “Run to the passage! while he storms, ’t is well

      That thou descend.” Thus down our road we took

      Through those dilapidated crags, that oft

      Mov’d underneath my feet, to weight like theirs

      Unus’d. I pond’ring went, and thus he spake:

      “Perhaps thy thoughts are of this ruin’d steep,

      Guarded by the brute violence, which I

      Have vanquish’d now. Know then, that when I erst

      Hither descended to the nether hell,

      This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt

(If well I mark) not long ere He arrived,6

      Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil

      Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds

      Such trembling seiz’d the deep concave and foul,

      I thought the universe was thrill’d with love,

      Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft

      Been into chaos turn’d: and in that point,

      Here, and elsewhere, that old rock toppled down.

      But fix thine eyes beneath: the river of blood

      Approaches, in the which all those are steep’d,

      Who have by violence injur’d.” O blind lust!

      O foolish wrath! who so dost goad us on

      In the brief life, and in the eternal then

      Thus miserably o’erwhelm us. I beheld

      An ample foss, that in a bow was bent,

      As circling all the plain; for so my guide

      Had told. Between it and the rampart’s base

      On trail ran Centaurs, with keen arrows arm’d,

      As to the chase they on the earth were wont.

      At seeing us descend they each one stood;

      And issuing from the troop, three sped with bows

      And missile weapons chosen first; of whom

      One cried from far: “Say to what pain ye come

      Condemn’d, who down this steep have journied? Speak

      From whence ye stand, or else the bow I draw.”

      To whom my guide: “Our answer shall be made

      To Chiron, there, when nearer him we come.

      Ill was thy mind, thus ever quick and rash.”

      Then me he touch’d, and spake: “Nessus is this,

      Who for the fair Deianira died,

And wrought himself revenge7 for his own fate.

      He in the midst, that on his breast looks down,

      Is the great Chiron who Achilles nurs’d;

      That other Pholus, prone to wrath.” Around

      The foss these go by thousands, aiming shafts

      At whatsoever spirit dares emerge

      From out the blood, more than his guilt allows.

      We to those beasts, that rapid strode along,

      Drew near, when Chiron took an arrow forth,

      And with the notch push’d back his shaggy beard

      To the cheek-bone, then his great mouth to view

      Exposing, to his fellows thus exclaim’d:

      “Are ye aware, that he who comes behind

      Moves what he touches? The feet of the dead

      Are not so wont.” My trusty guide, who now

      Stood near his breast, where the two natures join,

      Thus made reply: “He is indeed alive,

      And solitary so must needs by me

      Be shown the gloomy vale, thereto induc’d

      By strict necessity, not by delight.

      She left her joyful harpings in the sky,

      Who this new office to my care consign’d.

      He is no robber, no dark spirit I.

      But by that virtue, which empowers my step

      To treat so wild a path, grant us, I pray,

      One of thy band, whom we may trust secure,

      Who to the ford may lead us, and convey

      Across, him mounted on his back; for he

      Is not a spirit that may walk the air.”