| |
| IN silence and in solitude we went, | |
| One first, the other following his steps, | |
| As minor friars journeying on their road. | |
| The present fray had turn’d my thoughts to muse | |
| Upon old Æsop’s fable, 1 where he told | 5 |
| What fate unto the mouse and frog befell; | |
| For language hath not sounds more like in sense, | |
| Than are these chances, if the origin | |
| And end of each be heedfully compared. | |
| And as one thought bursts from another forth, | 10 |
| So afterward from that another sprang, | |
| Which added doubly to my former fear. | |
| For thus I reason’d: “These through us have been | |
| So foil’d, with loss and mockery so complete, | |
| As needs must sting them sore. If anger then | 15 |
| Be to their evil will conjoin’d, more fell | |
| They shall pursue us, than the savage hound | |
| Snatches the leveret panting ’twixt his jaws.” | |
| Already I perceived my hair stand all | |
| On end with terror, and look’d eager back. | 20 |
| “Teacher,” I thus began, “if speedily | |
| Thyself and me thou hide not, much I dread | |
| Those evil talons. Even now behind | |
| They urge us: quick imagination works | |
| So forcibly, that I already feel them.” | 25 |
| He answer’d: “Were I form’d of leaded glass, | |
| I should not sooner draw unto myself | |
| Thy outward image, than I now imprint | |
| That from within. This moment came thy thoughts | |
| Presented before mine, with similar act | 30 |
| And countenance similar, so that from both | |
| I one design have framed. If the right coast | |
| Incline so much, that we may thence descend | |
| Into the other chasm, we shall escape | |
| Secure from this imagined pursuit.” | 35 |
| He had not spoke his purpose to the end, | |
| When I from far beheld them with spread wings | |
| Approach to take us. Suddenly my guide | |
| Caught me, even as a mother that from sleep | |
| Is by the noise aroused, and near her sees | 40 |
| The climbing fires, who snatches up her babe | |
| And flies ne’er pausing, careful more of him | |
| Than of herself, that but a single vest | |
| Clings round her limbs. Down from the jutting beach | |
| Supine he cast him to that pendent rock, | 45 |
| Which closes on one part the other chasm. | |
| Never ran water with such hurrying pace | |
| Adown the tube to turn a land-mill’s wheel, | |
| When nearest it approaches to the spokes, | |
| As then along that edge my master ran, | 50 |
| Carrying me in his bosom, as a child, | |
| Not a companion. Scarcely had his feet | |
| Reach’d to the lowest of the bed beneath, | |
| When over us the steep they reach’d: but fear | |
| In him was none; for that high Providence, | 55 |
| Which placed them ministers of the fifth foss, | |
| Power of departing thence took from them all. | |
| There in the depth we saw a painted tribe, | |
| Who paced with tardy steps around, and wept, | |
| Faint in appearance and o’ercome with toil. | 60 |
| Caps had they on, with hoods, that fell low down | |
| Before their eyes, in fashion like to those | |
| Worn by the monks in Cologne. 2 Their outside | |
| Was overlaid with gold, dazzling to view, | |
| But leaden all within, and of such weight, | 65 |
| That Frederick’s 3 compared to these were straw. | |
| Oh, everlasting wearisome attire! | |
| We yet once more with them together turn’d | |
| To leftward, on their dismal moan intent. | |
| But by the weight opprest, so slowly came | 70 |
| The fainting people, that our company | |
| Was changed, at every movement of the step. | |
| Whence I my guide address’d: “See that thou find | |
| Some spirit, whose name may by his deeds be known; | |
| And to that end look round thee as thou go’st.” | 75 |
| Then one, who understood the Tuscan voice, | |
| Cried after us aloud: “Hold in your feet, | |
| Ye who so swiftly speed through the dusk air. | |
| Perchance from me thou shalt obtain thy wish.” | |
| Whereat my leader, turning, me bespake: | 80 |
| “Pause, and then onward at their pace proceed.” | |
| I staid, and saw two spirits in whose look | |
| Impatient eagerness of mind was mark’d | |
| To overtake me; but the load they bare | |
| And narrow path retarded their approach. | 85 |
| Soon as arrived, they with an eye askance | |
| Perused me, but spake not: then turning, each | |
| To other thus conferring said: “This one | |
| Seems, by the action of his throat, alive; | |
| And, be they dead, what privilege allows | 90 |
| They walk unmantled by the cumbrous stole?” | |
| Then thus to me: “Tuscan, who visitest | |
| The college of the mourning hypocrites, | |
| Disdain not to instruct us who thou art.” | |
| “By Arno’s pleasant stream,” I thus replied, | 95 |
| “In the great city I was bred and grew, | |
| And wear the body I have ever worn. | |
| But who are ye, from whom such mighty grief, | |
| As now I witness, courseth down your cheeks? | |
| What torment breaks forth in this bitter woe?” | 100 |
| “Our bonnets gleaming bright with orange hue,” | |
| One of them answer’d, “are so leaden gross, | |
| That with their weight they make the balances | |
| To crack beneath them. Joyous friars 4 we were, | |
| Bologna’s natives; Catalano I, | 105 |
| He Loderingo named; and by thy land | |
| Together taken, as men used to take | |
| A single and indifferent arbiter, | |
| To reconcile their strifes. How there we sped, | |
| Gardingo’s vicinage 5 can best declare.” | 110 |
| “O friars!” I began, “your miseries—” | |
| But there brake off, for one had caught mine eye, | |
| Fix’d to a cross with three stakes on the ground: | |
| He, when he saw me, writhed himself, throughout | |
| Distorted, ruffling with deep sighs his beard. | 115 |
| And Catalano, who thereof was ’ware, | |
| Thus spake: “That pierced spirit, 6 whom intent | |
| Thou view’st, was he who gave the Pharisees | |
| Counsel, that it were fitting for one man | |
| To suffer for the people. He doth lie | 120 |
| Transverse; nor any passes, but him first | |
| Behoves make feeling trial how each weighs. | |
| In straits like this along the foss are placed | |
| The father of his consort, 7 and the rest | |
| Partakers in that council, seed of ill | 125 |
| And sorrow to the Jews.” I noted then, | |
| How Virgil gazed with wonder upon him, | |
| Thus abjectly extended on the cross | |
| In banishment eternal. To the friar | |
| He next his words address’d: “We pray ye tell, | 130 |
| If so be lawful, whether on our right | |
| Lies any opening in the rock, whereby | |
| We both may issue hence, without constraint | |
| On the dark angels, that compell’d they come | |
| To lead us from this depth.” He thus replied: | 135 |
| “Nearer than thou dost hope, there is a rock | |
| From the great circle moving, which o’ersteps | |
| Each vale of horror, save that here his cope | |
| Is shatter’d. By the ruin ye may mount: | |
| For on the side it slants, and most the height | 140 |
| Rises below.” With head bent down awhile | |
| My leader stood; then spake: “He warn’d us ill, | |
| Who yonder hangs the sinners on his hook.” | |
| To whom the friar: “At Bologna erst | |
| I many vices of the Devil heard; | 145 |
| Among the rest was said, ‘He is a liar, | |
| And the father of lies!’” When he had spoke, | |
| My leader with large strides proceeded on, | |
| Somewhat disturb’d with anger in his look. | |
| I therefore left the spirits heavy laden, | 150 |
| And, following, his beloved footsteps mark’d. | |
