Book Read Free

The Inferno (The Divine Comedy series Book 1)

Page 17

by Dante


  112–118

  simile: a man possessed or in epileptic fit

  119–120

  exclamation of the poet: God’s power

  121–126

  Virgil begets response from Vanni

  127–129

  Dante’s further request of Vanni through Virgil

  130–139

  Vanni’s confession

  140–151

  Vanni’s prophecy of Dante’s political misery

  INFERNO XXIV

  In that season of the youthful year →

  when the sun cools his locks beneath Aquarius

  3

  and the dark already nears but half the day,

  and when the hoarfrost copies out upon the fields

  the very image of her snowy sister—

  6

  although her pen-point is not sharp for long—

  the peasant, short of fodder, rises,

  looks out, and sees the countryside

  9

  turned white, at which he slaps his thigh,

  goes back indoors, grumbling here and there

  like a wretch who knows not what to do,

  12

  then goes outside again and is restored to hope,

  seeing that the world has changed its face

  in that brief time, and now picks up his crook

  15

  and drives his sheep to pasture.

  Thus the master caused me to lose heart

  when I saw how troubled was his brow

  18

  and just as quickly came the poultice to the wound,

  for no sooner had we reached the broken bridge

  than he turned to me with that gentle glance

  21

  I first saw at the mountain’s foot.

  He looked with care upon the ruin, →

  took thought, chose a plan of action,

  24

  then opened out his arms and took me in them.

  And like one who reckons as he works,

  always planning for what comes next,

  27

  thus, while raising me to one boulder’s peak,

  he searched for yet another crag

  and said: ‘Take hold of that one next

  30

  but test it first to see if it will bear your weight.’

  This was no climb for people wearing leaden cloaks. →

  Though he was weightless and I was being pushed, →

  33

  how hard a climb it was from one crag to the other!

  Were it not that on this side of the dike

  the slope was shorter—I cannot speak for him—

  36

  I would have given up.

  But since all Malebolge inclines →

  down to the mouth of the lowest pit,

  39

  it follows that each valley is constructed

  with one side higher than the other.

  At last we made it to the point

  42

  where the outermost stone had broken off.

  And there I felt my lungs so sucked of breath

  that I could go no farther,

  45

  but I sat down as quickly as I could.

  ‘Now must you cast off sloth,’ my master said.

  ‘Sitting on feather cushions or stretched out

  48

  under comforters, no one comes to fame.

  ‘Without fame, he who spends his time on earth →

  leaves only such a mark upon the world

  51

  as smoke does on the air or foam on water.

  ‘Get to your feet! Conquer this laboring breath

  with strength of mind, which wins the battle

  54

  if not dragged down by body’s weight.

  ‘There is a longer stair that must be climbed.

  It’s not enough to leave these souls behind.

  57

  If you take my meaning, let it be of use.’

  At that I rose, pretending to more breath →

  than I had in me, and said:

  60

  ‘Go on then, for I am strong and resolute.’

  We labored up a ridge,

  rugged, narrow, difficult,

  63

  and steeper far than was the last.

  Not to seem so spent, I talked as I climbed up.

  Then, from the next ditch, came a voice →

  66

  that seemed unfit for forming words.

  I could not make out what it said, →

  though I was at the crown that arches over,

  69

  but the one who spoke seemed to be in motion.

  Hard as I strained to see, it was too dark

  for living eyes to plumb the depths.

  72

  And so I said: ‘Master, take your way

  ‘to the next ledge where we can leave this bridge.

  From here I make out nothing with my ears

  75

  nor with my eyes see anything down there.’

  ‘I give no other answer than to take you,’

  he said, ‘for a just request

  78

  should be followed by the act, in silence.’

  We left the bridge at the abutment →

  where it comes to rest on that eighth bank.

  81

  From there the contents of the ditch came into view.

  In it I saw a dreadful swarm of serpents, →

  of so strange a kind that even now

  84

  when I remember them it chills my blood.

  Let Libya with all her sands no longer boast, →

  for though she fosters chelydri, jaculi,

  87

  phareae, cenchres, and amphisbaena,

  she never reared so many venomous pests, →

  nor so appalling—not with all of Ethiopia

  90

  and the lands that lie along the Red Sea coast.

  Amid this fearsome and most awful plenty, →

  people, naked and in terror, were running

  93

  without hope of refuge or of heliotrope.

  Their hands were tied behind their backs with snakes

  that thrust their heads and tails between the legs

  96

  and joined, knotting themselves in front.

  And behold, one of these souls was near our ridge →

  when a serpent launched and pierced him through →

  99

  right where the neck and shoulders join.

  Never has ‘o’ nor even ‘i’ been writ so quick →

  as he caught fire and burned, turned,

  102

  in the very act of falling, into ashes.

  And as he lay unmade upon the ground,

  the dust regathered of its own accord

  105

  and suddenly he was himself again.

  Just, as is attested by great sages,

  the phoenix perishes and is reborn →

  108

  when it approaches its five-hundredth year—

  lifelong it feeds on neither grain nor grasses,

  but thrives on drops of frankincense and cardamom,

  111

  while nard and myrrh make up its winding sheet—

  and just as one who faints, and knows not why—

  whether possessed by devils that pull him down

  114

  or seized by the sickness that causes men to fall—

  rises to his feet, and gazes round,

  wholly bewildered by the breathless anguish

  117

  he has undergone, and as he looks, he sighs,

  such did that sinner seem when he had risen.

  O how stern it is, the power of God, →

  120

  hurling such blows as it takes vengeance!

  When my leader asked him who he was:

  ‘From Tuscany I rained down,’ was his answer,


  123

  ‘not long ago, into this savage gorge.

  ‘I loved the life of beasts and not of men,

  just like the mule I was. I am Vanni Fucci,

  126

  animal. Pistoia was my fitting den.’

  And I to my leader: ‘Tell him not to slip away, →

  then ask what sin has thrust him to this depth,

  129

  for I knew him as a man of blood and rages.’

  And the sinner, listening, did not dissemble,

  but set his mind and eyes on me,

  132

  then colored with a wrathful shame →

  and said: ‘For you to catch me

  in this misery pains me more

  135

  than when I was taken from the other life.

  ‘I can’t refuse to answer what you ask.

  I am thrust so far below because I stole

  138

  the lovely ornaments from the sacristy

  ‘and the blame was wrongly laid upon another.

  But, so you take no joy in seeing me this low, →

  141

  if ever you escape from these dark regions,

  ‘open your ears to prophecy and hear:

  First, Pistoia strips herself of Blacks, →

  144

  then Florence changes families and fashions.

  ‘Next Mars draws up a bolt from Val di Magra,

  engulfed by torn and threatening clouds,

  147

  and, with violent and stinging storms,

  ’on Campo Piceno the battle shall be joined.

  The headlong bolt shall rend the clouds,

  striking and wounding every White.

  151

  And this I have told that it may make you grieve.’ →

  OUTLINE: INFERNO XXV

  1–9

  Vanni’s blasphemy and the serpents’ attack

  10–15

  the poet’s apostrophe: Pistoia

  16–18

  Vanni Fucci’s flight and the centaur’s pursuit

  19–24

  the poet’s fanciful demon, Cacus

  25–33

  Virgil’s “certification” of Cacus

  34–45

  the sudden appearance of three thieves

  46–48

  sixth address to the reader

  49–78

  Agnello shares a new shape with Cianfa

  79–84

  simile: lizard darting across path

  85–93

  “mating” of a serpent (Francesco) and a “man” (Buoso)

  94–102

  the poet’s claim to have surpassed Lucan and Ovid

  103–141

  Buoso changes shape with serpent Francesco

  142–144

  the poet’s apology

  145–151

  Puccio alone is not transmogrified

  INFERNO XXV

  Then, making the figs with both his thumbs, →

  the thief raised up his fists and cried:

  3

  ‘Take that, God! It’s aimed at you!’

  From that time on the serpents were my friends, →

  for one of them coiled itself around his neck →

  6

  as if to say, ‘Now you shall speak no more,’

  while another enmeshed his arms and held him fast,

  knotting itself so tight around his front

  9

  he could not even twitch his arms.

  Ah, Pistoia, Pistoia, why won’t you resolve →

  to burn yourself to ashes, cease to be,

  12

  since you exceed your ancestors in evil?

  Through all the gloomy rounds of Hell →

  I saw no soul so prideful against God,

  15

  not even him who toppled from the walls at Thebes.

  He ran away without another word.

  And then I saw a centaur full of rage →

  18

  come shouting: ‘Where, where is that unripe soul?’

  Maremma does not have as many snakes, →

  I think, as he had on his back,

  21

  from where the human part begins down to the rump.

  On his shoulders, at the nape of his neck,

  crouched a dragon with its wings spread wide

  24

  that sets on fire whatever it encounters.

  My master said: ‘That is Cacus,

  who in the cave beneath the Aventine

  27

  many times over has made a lake of blood.

  ‘His road is different from his brothers’

  because he stole, with wicked cunning,

  30

  the herd of cattle he found near at hand.

  ‘For that his wily ways were ended

  beneath the club of Hercules, who struck perhaps

  33

  a hundred blows, though he felt not the tenth.’

  While my master spoke the centaur had run past. →

  Below where we were standing, three new souls

  36

  had neared, although we did not see them

  until we heard their shouts: ‘You,

  who are you?’ At that he stopped his tale

  39

  and we gave heed to them alone.

  I knew none of them, and yet it happened—

  as often happens by some chance—

  42

  that one had cause to speak another’s name,

  asking: ‘What’s become of Cianfa?’ →

  And then, to catch my guide’s attention, →

  45

  I held my finger up from chin to nose.

  If, reader, you are slow to credit

  what I’m about to tell you, it’s no wonder:

  48

  I saw it, and I myself can scarce believe it.

  While I stood staring, with eyebrows raised, →

  a reptile with six legs propelled itself

  51

  at one of them, and fastened itself to him.

  It grabbed his belly with its middle claws,

  then with its forepaws held his arms

  54

  and bit through both his cheeks.

  It stretched its hind feet down the other’s thighs,

  thrusting its tail between them

  57

  and curled it up behind, above the buttocks.

  Never did clinging ivy fix itself

  so tight upon a tree as did that fearsome beast

  60

  entwine itself around the other’s limbs.

  Then they fused together, as if made

  of molten wax, mixing their colors

  63

  so that neither seemed what it had been before,

  as over the surface of a scrap of parchment, →

  before the advancing flame, a brownish color comes

  66

  that is not black, yet makes the white die out.

  The other two were looking on and each

  was shouting: ‘Oh my, Agnello, how you change! →

  69

  Look, now you are neither two nor one!’ →

  The two heads had already been united,

  two sets of features blending,

  72

  both lost in a single face.

  Four separate limbs combined to form two arms.

  The thighs and calves, the stomach and the chest

  75

  turned into members never seen before.

  All trace of their first aspect was erased

  and the unnatural figure seemed both two

  78

  and none and lumbered off at its slow pace.

  As the green lizard beneath the scorching lash →

  of dog-day heat, between one hedge and the next,

  81

  seems lightning as it streaks across the road,

  just so appeared—darting toward the bellies �


  of the other two—a little fiery reptile,

  84

  black and livid as a peppercorn.

  That part where first we are nourished

  it transfixed in one of them

  87

  and then fell prone before him.

  The one transfixed just stared, said nothing.

  Indeed, with his feet stock-still, he yawned,

  90

  as if deep sleep or fever had assailed him.

  He and the reptile stared at one another.

  Both gave out dense smoke, one from its wound,

  93

  the other from its mouth. Then their smoke merged.

  Let Lucan now fall silent where he tells →

  of poor Sabellus and Nasidius,

  96

  and let him wait to hear what comes forth now!

  Let Ovid not speak of Cadmus or Arethusa,

  for if his poem turns him into a serpent

  99

  and her into a fountain, I grudge it not,

  for never did he change two natures, face to face,

  in such a way that both their forms

  102

  were quite so quick exchanging substance.

  Their corresponding changes went like this: →

  the reptile split its tail into a fork

  105

  and he that was wounded drew his feet together.

  First his calves and then his thighs began

  to knit so that in but a moment

  108

  no sign of a division could be seen.

  The cloven tail assumed the shapes

  the other one was losing, and his skin

  111

  was turning soft while the other’s hardened.

  I saw the man’s arms shrinking toward the armpits

  and the brute’s forepaws, which had been short,

 

‹ Prev