Dante's Inferno - Dante Alighieri

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smote together, and each one forthwith

      Roll'd them back voluble, turning again,

      Exclaiming these, "Why holdest thou so fast?"

      Those answering, "And why castest thou away?"

      So still repeating their despiteful song,

      They to the opposite point on either hand

      Travers'd the horrid circle: then arriv'd,

      Both turn'd them round, and through the middle space

      Conflicting met again. At sight whereof

      I, stung with grief, thus spake: "O say, my guide!

      What race is this? Were these, whose heads are shorn,

      On our left hand, all sep'rate to the church?"

      He straight replied: "In their first life these all

      In mind were so distorted, that they made,

      According to due measure, of their wealth,

      No use. This clearly from their words collect,

      Which they howl forth, at each extremity

      Arriving of the circle, where their crime

      Contrary' in kind disparts them. To the church

      Were separate those, that with no hairy cowls

      Are crown'd, both Popes and Cardinals, o'er whom

      Av'rice dominion absolute maintains."

      I then: "Mid such as these some needs must be,

      Whom I shall recognize, that with the blot

      Of these foul sins were stain'd." He answering thus:

      "Vain thought conceiv'st thou. That ignoble life,

      Which made them vile before, now makes them dark,

      And to all knowledge indiscernible.

      Forever they shall meet in this rude shock:

      These from the tomb with clenched grasp shall rise,

      Those with close-shaven locks. That ill they gave,

      And ill they kept, hath of the beauteous world

      Depriv'd, and set them at this strife, which needs

      No labour'd phrase of mine to set if off.

      Now may'st thou see, my son! how brief, how vain,

      The goods committed into fortune's hands,

      For which the human race keep such a coil!

      Not all the gold, that is beneath the moon,

      Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls

      Might purchase rest for one." I thus rejoin'd:

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      "My guide! of thee this also would I learn;

      This fortune, that thou speak'st of, what it is,

      Whose talons grasp the blessings of the world?"

      He thus: "O beings blind! what ignorance

      Besets you? Now my judgment hear and mark.

      He, whose transcendent wisdom passes all,

      The heavens creating, gave them ruling powers

      To guide them, so that each part shines to each,

      Their light in equal distribution pour'd.

      By similar appointment he ordain'd

      Over the world's bright images to rule.

      Superintendence of a guiding hand

      And general minister, which at due time

      May change the empty vantages of life

      From race to race, from one to other's blood,

      Beyond prevention of man's wisest care:

      Wherefore one nation rises into sway,

      Another languishes, e'en as her will

      Decrees, from us conceal'd, as in the grass

      The serpent train. Against her nought avails

      Your utmost wisdom. She with foresight plans,

      Judges, and carries on her reign, as theirs

      The other powers divine. Her changes know

      Nore intermission: by necessity

      She is made swift, so frequent come who claim

      Succession in her favours. This is she,

      So execrated e'en by those, whose debt

      To her is rather praise; they wrongfully

      With blame requite her, and with evil word;

      But she is blessed, and for that recks not:

      Amidst the other primal beings glad

      Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.

      Now on our way pass we, to heavier woe

      Descending: for each star is falling now,

      That mounted at our entrance, and forbids

      Too long our tarrying." We the circle cross'd

      To the next steep, arriving at a well,

      That boiling pours itself down to a foss

      Sluic'd from its source. Far murkier was the wave

      Than sablest grain: and we in company

      Of the' inky waters, journeying by their side,

      Enter'd, though by a different track, beneath.

      Into a lake, the Stygian nam'd, expands

      The dismal stream, when it hath reach'd the foot

      Of the grey wither'd cliffs. Intent I stood

      To gaze, and in the marish sunk descried

      A miry tribe, all naked, and with looks

      Betok'ning rage. They with their hands alone

      Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet,

      Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs.

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      The good instructor spake; "Now seest thou, son!

      The souls of those, whom anger overcame.

      This too for certain know, that underneath

      The water dwells a multitude, whose sighs

      Into these bubbles make the surface heave,

      As thine eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turn.

      Fix'd in the slime they say: 'Sad once were we

      In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun,

      Carrying a foul and lazy mist within:

      Now in these murky settlings are we sad.'

      Such dolorous strain they gurgle in their throats.

      But word distinct can utter none." Our route

      Thus compass'd we, a segment widely stretch'd

      Between the dry embankment, and the core

      Of the loath'd pool, turning meanwhile our eyes

      Downward on those who gulp'd its muddy lees;

      Nor stopp'd, till to a tower's low base we came.

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