| |
| AND now the verse proceeds to torments new, | |
| Fit argument of this the twentieth strain | |
| Of the first song, whose awful theme records | |
| The spirits whelm’d in woe. Earnest I look’d | |
| Into the depth, that open’d to my view, | 5 |
| Moisten’d with tears of anguish, and beheld | |
| A tribe, that came along the hollow vale, | |
| In silence weeping: such their step as walk | |
| Quires, chanting solemn litanies, on earth. | |
| As on them more direct mine eye descends, | 10 |
| Each wonderously seem’d to be reversed | |
| At the neck-bone, so that the countenance | |
| Was from the reins averted; and because | |
| None might before him look, they were compell’d | |
| To advance with backward gait. Thus one perhaps | 15 |
| Hath been by force of palsy clean transposed, | |
| But I ne’er saw it nor believe it so. | |
| Now, reader! think within thyself, so God | |
| Fruit of thy reading give thee! how I long | |
| Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld | 20 |
| Near me our form distorted in such guise, | |
| That on the hinder parts fallen from the face | |
| The tears down-streaming roll’d. Against a rock | |
| I leant and wept, so that my guide exclaim’d: | |
| “What, and art thou, too, witless as the rest? | 25 |
| Here pity most doth show herself alive, | |
| When she is dead. What guilt exceedeth his, | |
| Who with Heaven’s judgment in his passion strives? | |
| Raise up thy head, raise up, and see the man | |
| Before whose eyes 1 earth gaped in Thebes, when all | 30 |
| Cried out ‘Amphiaraüs, whither rushest? | |
| Why leavest thou the war?’ He not the less | |
| Fell ruining far as to Minos down, | |
| Whose grapple none eludes. Lo! how he makes | |
| The breast his shoulders; and who once too far | 35 |
| Before him wish’d to see, now backward looks, | |
| And treads reverse his path. Tiresias note, | |
| Who semblance changed, when woman he became | |
| Of male, through every limb transform’d; and then | |
| Once more behoved him with his rod to strike | 40 |
| The two entwining serpents, ere the plumes, | |
| That mark’d the better sex, might shoot again. | |
| “Aruns, with rere his belly facing, comes. | |
| On Luni’s mountains ’midst the marbles white, | |
| Where delves Carrara’s hind, who wons beneath, | 45 |
| A cavern was his dwelling, whence the stars | |
| And main-sea whide in boundless view he held. | |
| “The next, whose loosen’d tresses overspread | |
| Her bosom, which thou seest not (for each hair | |
| On that side grows) was Manto, she who search’d | 50 |
| Through many regions, and at length her seat | |
| Fix’d in my native land: whence a short space | |
| My words detain thy audience. When her sire | |
| From life departed, and in servitude | |
| The city dedicate to Bacchus mourn’d, | 55 |
| Long time she went a wanderer through the world. | |
| Aloft in Italy’s delightful land | |
| A lake there lies, at foot of that proud Alp | |
| That o’er the Tyrol locks Germania in, | |
| Its name Benacus, from whose ample breast | 60 |
| A thousand springs, methinks, and more, between | |
| Camonica and Garda, issuing forth, | |
| Water the Apennine. There is a spot 2 | |
| At midway of that lake, where he who bears | |
| Of Trento’s flock the pastoral staff, with him | 65 |
| Of Brescia, and the Veronese, might each | |
| Passing that way his benediction give. | |
| A garrison of goodly site and strong | |
| Peschiera 3 stands, to awe with front opposed | |
| The Bergamese and Brescian, whence the shore | 70 |
| More slope each way descends. There, whatsoe’er | |
| Benacus’ bosom holds not, tumbling o’er | |
| Down falls, and winds a river flood beneath | |
| Through the green pastures. Soon as in his course | |
| The stream makes head, Benacus then no more | 75 |
| They call the name, but Mincius, till at last | |
| Reaching Governo, into Po he falls. | |
| Not far his course hath run, when a wide flat | |
| It finds, which overstretching as a marsh | |
| It covers, pestilent in summer oft. | 80 |
| Hence journeying, the savage maiden saw | |
| Midst of the fen a territory waste | |
| And naked of inhabitants. To shun | |
| All human converse, here she with her slaves, | |
| Plying her arts, remain’d, and liv’d, and left | 85 |
| Her body tenantless. Thenceforth the tribes, | |
| Who round were scatter’d, gathering to that place, | |
| Assembled; for its strength was great, enclosed | |
| On all parts by the fen. On those dead bones | |
| They rear’d themselves a city, for her sake | 90 |
| Calling it Mantua, who first chose the spot, | |
| Nor ask’d another omen for the name; | |
| Wherein more numerous the people dwelt, | |
| Ere Casalodi’s madness 4 by deceit | |
| Was wronged of Pinamonte. If thou hear | 95 |
| Henceforth another origin assign’d | |
| Of that my country, I forewarn thee now, | |
| That falsehood none beguile thee of the truth.” | |
| I answer’d, “Teacher, I conclude thy words | |
| So certain, that all else shall be to me | 100 |
| As embers lacking life. But now of these, | |
| Who here proceed, instruct me, if thou see | |
| Any that merit more especial note. | |
| For thereon is my mind alone intent.” | |
| He straight replied: “That spirit, from whose cheek | 105 |
| The beard sweeps o’er his shoulders brown, what time | |
| Græcia was emptied of her males, that scarce | |
| The cradles were supplied, the seer was he | |
| In Aulis, who with Calchas gave the sign | |
| When first to cut the cable. Him they named | 110 |
| Eurypilus: so sings my tragic strain, | |
| In which majestic measure well thou know’st, | |
| Who know’st it all. That other, round the loins | |
| So slender of his shape, was Michael Scot, 5 | |
| Practised in every slight of magic wile. | 115 |
| “Guido Bonatti 6 see: Asdente mark, 7 | |
| Who now were willing he had tended still | |
| The thread and cordwain, and too late repents. | |
| “See next the wretches, who the needle left, | |
| The shuttle and the spindle, and became | 120 |
| Diviners: baneful witcheries they wrought | |
| With images and herbs. But onward now: | |
| For now doth Cain with fork of thorns 8 confine | |
| On either hemisphere, touching the wave | |
| Beneath the towers of Seville. Yesternight | 125 |
| The moon was round. Thou mayst remember well: | |
| For she good service did thee in the gloom | |
| Of the deep wood.” This said, both onward moved. | |
