The Divine Comedy (Complete Annotated Edition). Dante Alighieri

had formerly shown the same insolence when our Saviour descended into hell. They attempted to prevent him from entering at the gate, over which Dante had read the fatal inscription. “That gate which,” says the Roman poet, “an angel had just passed, by whose aid we shall overcome this opposition, and gain admittance into the city.”

      Canto IX

       Table of Contents

      ARGUMENT.—After some hindrances, and having seen the hellish furies and other monsters, the Poet, by the help of an angel, enters the city of Dis, wherein he discovers that the heretics are punished in tombs burning with intense fire; and he, together with Virgil, passes onward between the sepulchres and the walls of the city.

THE hue,1 which coward dread on my pale cheeks

      Imprinted, when I saw my guide turn back,

      Chas’d that from his which newly they had worn,

      And inwardly restrain’d it. He, as one

      Who listens, stood attentive: for his eye

      Not far could lead him through the sable air,

      And the thick-gath’ring cloud. “It yet behooves

      We win this fight” — thus he began — “ if not —

      Such aid to us is offer’d. — Oh, how long

      Me seems it, ere the promis’d help arrive!”

      I noted, how the sequel of his words

      Clok’d their beginning; for the last he spake

      Agreed not with the first. But not the less

      My fear was at his saying; sith I drew

      To import worse perchance, than that he held,

      His mutilated speech. “Doth ever any

      Into this rueful concave’s extreme depth

      Descend, out of the first degree, whose pain

      Is deprivation merely of sweet hope?”

      Thus I inquiring. “Rarely,” he replied,

      “It chances, that among us any makes

      This journey, which I wend. Erewhile ’tis true

      Once came I here beneath, conjur’d by fell

Erictho,2 sorceress, who compell’d the shades

      Back to their bodies. No long space my flesh

      Was naked of me, when within these walls

      She made me enter, to draw forth a spirit

      From out of Judas’ circle. Lowest place

      Is that of all, obscurest, and remov’d

      Farthest from heav’n’s all-circling orb. The road

      Full well I know: thou therefore rest secure.

      That lake, the noisome stench exhaling, round

      The city’ of grief encompasses, which now

      We may not enter without rage.” Yet more

      He added: but I hold it not in mind,

      For that mine eye toward the lofty tower

      Had drawn me wholly, to its burning top.

      Where in an instant I beheld uprisen

      At once three hellish furies stain’d with blood:

      In limb and motion feminine they seem’d;

      Around them greenest hydras twisting roll’d

      Their volumes; adders and cerastes crept

      Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound.

      He knowing well the miserable hags

      Who tend the queen of endless woe, thus spake:

      “Mark thou each dire Erinnys. To the left

      This is Megaera; on the right hand she,

      Who wails, Alecto; and Tisiphone

      I’ th’ midst.” This said, in silence he remain’d

      Their breast they each one clawing tore; themselves

      Smote with their palms, and such shrill clamour rais’d,

      That to the bard I clung, suspicion-bound.

      “Hasten Medusa: so to adamant

      Him shall we change;” all looking down exclaim’d.

      “E’en when by Theseus’ might assail’d, we took

      No ill revenge.” “Turn thyself round, and keep

      Thy count’nance hid; for if the Gorgon dire

      Be shown, and thou shouldst view it, thy return

      Upwards would be for ever lost.” This said,

      Himself my gentle master turn’d me round,

      Nor trusted he my hands, but with his own

      He also hid me. Ye of intellect

Sound and entire, mark well the lore3 conceal’d

      Under close texture of the mystic strain!

      And now there came o’er the perturbed waves

      Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made

      Either shore tremble, as if of a wind

      Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,

      That ’gainst some forest driving all its might,

      Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurls

      Afar; then onward passing proudly sweeps

      Its whirlwind rage, while beasts and shepherds fly.

      Mine eyes he loos’d, and spake: “And now direct

      Thy visual nerve along that ancient foam,

      There, thickest where the smoke ascends.” As frogs

      Before their foe the serpent, through the wave

      Ply swiftly all, till at the ground each one

      Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits

      Destroy’d, so saw I fleeing before one

      Who pass’d with unwet feet the Stygian sound.

      He, from his face removing the gross air,

      Oft his left hand forth 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