The Divine Comedy (Complete Annotated Edition). Dante Alighieri

blood,

      Beyond prevention of man’s wisest care:

      Wherefore one nation rises into sway,

      Another languishes, e’en as her will

      Decrees, from us conceal’d, as in the grass

      The serpent train. Against her nought avails

      Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,

      Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs

      The other powers divine. Her changes know

      Nore intermission: by necessity

      She is made swift, so frequent come who claim

      Succession in her favours. This is she,

      So execrated e’en by those, whose debt

      To her is rather praise; they wrongfully

      With blame requite her, and with evil word;

      But she is blessed, and for that recks not:

      Amidst the other primal beings glad

      Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.

      Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe

      Descending: for each star is falling now,

      That mounted at our entrance, and forbids

      Too long our tarrying.” We the circle cross’d

      To the next steep, arriving at a well,

      That boiling pours itself down to a foss

      Sluic’d from its source. Far murkier was the wave

      Than sablest grain: and we in company

      Of the’ inky waters, journeying by their side,

      Enter’d, though by a different track, beneath.

      Into a lake, the Stygian nam’d, expands

      The dismal stream, when it hath reach’d the foot

      Of the grey wither’d cliffs. Intent I stood

      To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

      A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

      Betok’ning rage. They with their hands alone

      Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,

      Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.

      The good instructor spake; “Now seest thou, son!

      The souls of those, whom anger overcame.

      This too for certain know, that underneath

      The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs

      Into these bubbles make the surface heave,

      As thine eye tells thee wheresoe’er it turn.

      Fix’d in the slime they say: “Sad once were we

      In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,

      Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:

      Now in these murky settlings are we sad.”

      Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.

      But word distinct can utter none.” Our route

      Thus compass’d we, a segment widely stretch’d

      Between the dry embankment, and the core

      Of the loath’d pool, turning meanwhile our eyes

      Downward on those who gulp’d its muddy lees;

      Nor stopp’d, till to a tower’s low base we came.

      Footnotes

1 “Pape Satan, Pape Satan, aleppe;” words without meaning.

      Canto VIII

       Table of Contents

      ARGUMENT.—A signal having been made from the tower, Phlegyas, the ferryman of the lake, speedily crosses it, and conveys Virgil and Dante to the other side. On their passage, they meet with Filippo Argenti, whose fury and torment are described. They then arrive at the city of Dis, the entrance whereto is denied, and the portals closed against them by many Demons.

      MY theme pursuing, I relate that ere

      We reach’d the lofty turret’s base, our eyes

      Its height ascended, where two cressets hung

      We mark’d, and from afar another light

      Return the signal, so remote, that scarce

      The eye could catch its beam. I turning round

      To the deep source of knowledge, thus inquir’d:

      “Say what this means? and what that other light

      In answer set? what agency doth this?”

      “There on the filthy waters,” he replied,

      “E’en now what next awaits us mayst thou see,

      If the marsh-gender’d fog conceal it not.”

      Never was arrow from the cord dismiss’d,

      That ran its way so nimbly through the air,

      As a small bark, that through the waves I spied

      Toward us coming, under the sole sway

      Of one that ferried it, who cried aloud:

“Art thou arriv’d, fell spirit?” — “Phlegyas, Phlegyas,1

      This time thou criest in vain,” my lord replied;

      “No longer shalt thou have us, but while o’er

      The slimy pool we pass.” As one who hears

      Of some great wrong he hath sustain’d, whereat

      Inly he pines; so Phlegyas inly pin’d

      In his fierce ire. My guide descending stepp’d

      Into the skiff, and bade me enter next

      Close at his side; nor till my entrance seem’d

      The vessel freighted. Soon as both embark’d,

      Cutting the waves, goes on the ancient prow,

      More deeply than with others it is wont.

      While we our course o’er the dead channel held.

      One drench’d in mire before me came, and said;

      “Who art thou, that thou comest ere thine hour?”

      I answer’d: “Though I come, I tarry not;

      But who art thou, that art become so foul?”

      “One, as thou seest, who mourn: “ he straight replied.

      To which I thus: “ In mourning and in woe,

      Curs’d spirit! tarry thou. I know thee well,

      E’en thus in filth disguis’d.” Then stretch’d he forth

      Hands to the bark; whereof my teacher sage

      Aware, thrusting him back: