The vision of hell. Dante Alighieri

power are one: ask thou no more."

       Straightway in silence fell the shaggy cheeks

       Of him the boatman o'er the livid lake,

       Around whose eyes glar'd wheeling flames. Meanwhile

       Those spirits, faint and naked, color chang'd,

       And gnash'd their teeth, soon as the cruel words

       They heard. God and their parents they blasphem'd,

       The human kind, the place, the time, and seed

       That did engender them and give them birth.

       Then all together sorely wailing drew

       To the curs'd strand, that every man must pass

       Who fears not God. Charon, demoniac form,

       With eyes of burning coal, collects them all,

       Beck'ning, and each, that lingers, with his oar

       Strikes. As fall off the light autumnal leaves,

       One still another following, till the bough

       Strews all its honours on the earth beneath;

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       E'en in like manner Adam's evil brood

       Cast themselves one by one down from the shore,

       Each at a beck, as falcon at his call.

       Thus go they over through the umber'd wave,

       And ever they on the opposing bank

       Be landed, on this side another throng

       Still gathers. "Son," thus spake the courteous guide,

       "Those, who die subject to the wrath of God,

       All here together come from every clime,

       And to o'erpass the river are not loth:

       For so heaven's justice goads them on, that fear

       Is turn'd into desire. Hence ne'er hath past

       Good spirit. If of thee Charon complain,

       Now mayst thou know the import of his words."

       This said, the gloomy region trembling shook

       So terribly, that yet with clammy dews

       Fear chills my brow. The sad earth gave a blast,

       That, lightening, shot forth a vermilion flame,

       Which all my senses conquer'd quite, and I

       Down dropp'd, as one with sudden slumber seiz'd.

CANTO IV

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       BROKE the deep slumber in my brain a crash

       Of heavy thunder, that I shook myself,

       As one by main force rous'd. Risen upright,

       My rested eyes I mov'd around, and search'd

       With fixed ken to know what place it was,

       Wherein I stood. For certain on the brink

       I found me of the lamentable vale,

       The dread abyss, that joins a thund'rous sound

       Of plaints innumerable. Dark and deep,

       And thick with clouds o'erspread, mine eye in vain

       Explor'd its bottom, nor could aught discern.

       "Now let us to the blind world there beneath

       Descend;" the bard began all pale of look:

       "I go the first, and thou shalt follow next."

       Then I his alter'd hue perceiving, thus:

       "How may I speed, if thou yieldest to dread,

       Who still art wont to comfort me in doubt?"

       He then: "The anguish of that race below

       With pity stains my cheek, which thou for fear

       Mistakest. Let us on. Our length of way

       Urges to haste." Onward, this said, he mov'd;

       And ent'ring led me with him on the bounds

       Of the first circle, that surrounds th' abyss.

       Here, as mine ear could note, no plaint was heard

       Except of sighs, that made th' eternal air

       Tremble, not caus'd by tortures, but from grief

       Felt by those multitudes, many and vast,

       Of men, women, and infants. Then to me

       The gentle guide: "Inquir'st thou not what spirits

       Are these, which thou beholdest? Ere thou pass

       Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin

       Were blameless; and if aught they merited,

       It profits not, since baptism was not theirs,

       The portal to thy faith. If they before

       The Gospel liv'd, they serv'd not God aright;

       And among such am I. For these defects,

       And for no other evil, we are lost;

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       "Only so far afflicted, that we live

       Desiring without hope." So grief assail'd

       My heart at hearing this, for well I knew

       Suspended in that Limbo many a soul

       Of mighty worth. "O tell me, sire rever'd!

       Tell me, my master!" I began through wish

       Of full assurance in that holy faith,

       Which vanquishes all error; "say, did e'er

       Any, or through his own or other's merit,

       Come forth from thence, whom afterward was blest?"

       Piercing the secret purport of my speech,

       He answer'd: "I was new to that estate,

       When I beheld a puissant one arrive

       Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown'd.

       He forth the shade of our first parent drew,

       Abel his child, and Noah righteous man,

       Of Moses lawgiver for faith approv'd,

       Of patriarch Abraham, and David king,

       Israel with his sire and with his sons,

       Nor without Rachel whom so hard he won,

       And others many more, whom he to bliss

       Exalted. Before these, be thou assur'd,

       No spirit of human kind was ever sav'd."

       We, while he spake, ceas'd not our onward road,

       Still passing through the wood; for so I name

       Those spirits thick beset. We were not far

       On this side from the summit, when I kenn'd

       A flame, that o'er the darken'd hemisphere

       Prevailing shin'd. Yet we a little space