The Divine Comedy | Page 6

look, and pass them by."
And I, who straightway look'd, beheld a flag,
Which whirling ran
around so rapidly,
That it no pause obtain'd: and following came

Such a long train of spirits, I should ne'er
Have thought, that death so
many had despoil'd.

When some of these I recogniz'd, I saw
And knew the shade of him,
who to base fear
Yielding, abjur'd his high estate. Forthwith
I
understood for certain this the tribe
Of those ill spirits both to God
displeasing
And to his foes. These wretches, who ne'er lived,
Went
on in nakedness, and sorely stung
By wasps and hornets, which
bedew'd their cheeks
With blood, that mix'd with tears dropp'd to
their feet,
And by disgustful worms was gather'd there.
Then looking farther onwards I beheld
A throng upon the shore of a
great stream:
Whereat I thus: "Sir! grant me now to know
Whom
here we view, and whence impell'd they seem
So eager to pass o'er,
as I discern
Through the blear light?" He thus to me in few:
"This
shalt thou know, soon as our steps arrive
Beside the woeful tide of
Acheron."
Then with eyes downward cast and fill'd with shame,
Fearing my
words offensive to his ear,
Till we had reach'd the river, I from
speech
Abstain'd. And lo! toward us in a bark
Comes on an old man
hoary white with eld,
Crying, "Woe to you wicked spirits! hope not

Ever to see the sky again. I come
To take you to the other shore
across,
Into eternal darkness, there to dwell
In fierce heat and in ice.
And thou, who there
Standest, live spirit! get thee hence, and leave

These who are dead." But soon as he beheld
I left them not, "By other
way," said he,
"By other haven shalt thou come to shore,
Not by
this passage; thee a nimbler boat
Must carry." Then to him thus spake
my guide:
"Charon! thyself torment not: so 't is will'd,
Where will
and 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;
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
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