The Divine Comedy | Page 8

maketh them
lament so sore?"
He answered: "I will tell thee very briefly.
These have no longer any hope of death;
And this blind life of theirs
is so debased,
They envious are of every other fate.
No fame of them the world permits to be;
Misericord and Justice both
disdain them.
Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass."
And I, who looked again, beheld a banner,
Which, whirling round,

ran on so rapidly,
That of all pause it seemed to me indignant;
And after it there came so long a train
Of people, that I ne'er would
have believed
That ever Death so many had undone.
When some among them I had recognised,
I looked, and I beheld the
shade of him
Who made through cowardice the great refusal.
Forthwith I comprehended, and was certain,
That this the sect was of
the caitiff wretches
Hateful to God and to his enemies.
These miscreants, who never were alive,
Were naked, and were stung
exceedingly
By gadflies and by hornets that were there.
These did their faces irrigate with blood,
Which, with their tears
commingled, at their feet
By the disgusting worms was gathered up.
And when to gazing farther I betook me.
People I saw on a great
river's bank;
Whence said I: "Master, now vouchsafe to me,
That I may know who these are, and what law
Makes them appear so
ready to pass over,
As I discern athwart the dusky light."
And he to me: "These things shall all be known
To thee, as soon as
we our footsteps stay
Upon the dismal shore of Acheron."
Then with mine eyes ashamed and downward cast,
Fearing my words
might irksome be to him,
From speech refrained I till we reached the
river.
And lo! towards us coming in a boat
An old man, hoary with the hair
of eld,
Crying: "Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!
Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;
I come to lead you to the
other shore,
To the eternal shades in heat and frost.

And thou, that yonder standest, living soul,
Withdraw thee from these
people, who are dead!"
But when he saw that I did not withdraw,
He said: "By other ways, by other ports
Thou to the shore shalt come,
not here, for passage;
A lighter vessel needs must carry thee."
And unto him the Guide: "Vex thee not, Charon;
It is so willed there
where is power to do
That which is willed; and farther question not."
Thereat were quieted the fleecy cheeks
Of him the ferryman of the
livid fen,
Who round about his eyes had wheels of flame.
But all those souls who weary were and naked
Their colour changed
and gnashed their teeth together,
As soon as they had heard those
cruel words.
God they blasphemed and their progenitors,
The human race, the
place, the time, the seed
Of their engendering and of their birth!
Thereafter all together they drew back,
Bitterly weeping, to the
accursed shore,
Which waiteth every man who fears not God.
Charon the demon, with the eyes of glede,
Beckoning to them,
collects them all together,
Beats with his oar whoever lags behind.
As in the autumn-time the leaves fall off,
First one and then another,
till the branch
Unto the earth surrenders all its spoils;
In similar wise the evil seed of Adam
Throw themselves from that
margin one by one,
At signals, as a bird unto its lure.
So they depart across the dusky wave,
And ere upon the other side
they land,
Again on this side a new troop assembles.
"My son," the courteous Master said to me,
"All those who perish in

the wrath of God
Here meet together out of every land;
And ready are they to pass o'er the river,
Because celestial Justice
spurs them on,
So that their fear is turned into desire.
This way there never passes a good soul;
And hence if Charon doth
complain of thee,
Well mayst thou know now what his speech
imports."
This being finished, all the dusk champaign
Trembled so violently,
that of that terror
The recollection bathes me still with sweat.
The land of tears gave forth a blast of wind,
And fulminated a
vermilion light,
Which overmastered in me every sense,
And as a man whom sleep hath seized I fell.
Inferno: Canto IV
Broke the deep lethargy within my head
A heavy thunder, so that I
upstarted,
Like to a person who by force is wakened;
And round about I moved my rested eyes,
Uprisen erect, and
steadfastly I gazed,
To recognise the place wherein I was.
True is it, that upon the verge I found me
Of the abysmal valley
dolorous,
That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.
Obscure, profound it was, and nebulous,
So that by fixing on its
depths my sight
Nothing whatever I discerned therein.
"Let us descend now into the blind world,"
Began the Poet, pallid
utterly;
"I will be first, and thou shalt second be."
And I, who of his colour was aware,
Said: "How shall I come, if thou
art afraid,
Who'rt wont to be a comfort to my fears?"

And he to me: "The anguish of the people
Who are below here in my