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satisfy me;

       For I cannot, such pity is in my heart."

      Therefore he recommenced: "So may the man

       Do for thee freely what thy speech implores,

       Spirit incarcerate, again be pleased

      To tell us in what way the soul is bound

       Within these knots; and tell us, if thou canst,

       If any from such members e'er is freed."

      Then blew the trunk amain, and afterward

       The wind was into such a voice converted:

       "With brevity shall be replied to you.

      When the exasperated soul abandons

       The body whence it rent itself away,

       Minos consigns it to the seventh abyss.

      It falls into the forest, and no part

       Is chosen for it; but where Fortune hurls it,

       There like a grain of spelt it germinates.

      It springs a sapling, and a forest tree;

       The Harpies, feeding then upon its leaves,

       Do pain create, and for the pain an outlet.

      Like others for our spoils shall we return;

       But not that any one may them revest,

       For 'tis not just to have what one casts off.

      Here we shall drag them, and along the dismal

       Forest our bodies shall suspended be,

       Each to the thorn of his molested shade."

      We were attentive still unto the trunk,

       Thinking that more it yet might wish to tell us,

       When by a tumult we were overtaken,

      In the same way as he is who perceives

       The boar and chase approaching to his stand,

       Who hears the crashing of the beasts and branches;

      And two behold! upon our left-hand side,

       Naked and scratched, fleeing so furiously,

       That of the forest, every fan they broke.

      He who was in advance: "Now help, Death, help!"

       And the other one, who seemed to lag too much,

       Was shouting: "Lano, were not so alert

      Those legs of thine at joustings of the Toppo!"

       And then, perchance because his breath was failing,

       He grouped himself together with a bush.

      Behind them was the forest full of black

       She-mastiffs, ravenous, and swift of foot

       As greyhounds, who are issuing from the chain.

      On him who had crouched down they set their teeth,

       And him they lacerated piece by piece,

       Thereafter bore away those aching members.

      Thereat my Escort took me by the hand,

       And led me to the bush, that all in vain

       Was weeping from its bloody lacerations.

      "O Jacopo," it said, "of Sant' Andrea,

       What helped it thee of me to make a screen?

       What blame have I in thy nefarious life?"

      When near him had the Master stayed his steps,

       He said: "Who wast thou, that through wounds so many

       Art blowing out with blood thy dolorous speech?"

      And he to us: "O souls, that hither come

       To look upon the shameful massacre

       That has so rent away from me my leaves,

      Gather them up beneath the dismal bush;

       I of that city was which to the Baptist

       Changed its first patron, wherefore he for this

      Forever with his art will make it sad.

       And were it not that on the pass of Arno

       Some glimpses of him are remaining still,

      Those citizens, who afterwards rebuilt it

       Upon the ashes left by Attila,

       In vain had caused their labour to be done.

      Of my own house I made myself a gibbet."

      Canto XIV. The Sand Waste and the Rain of Fire. The Violent against God. Capaneus. The Statue of Time, and the Four Infernal Rivers.

       Table of Contents

      Because the charity of my native place

       Constrained me, gathered I the scattered leaves,

       And gave them back to him, who now was hoarse.

      Then came we to the confine, where disparted

       The second round is from the third, and where

       A horrible form of Justice is beheld.

      Clearly to manifest these novel things,

       I say that we arrived upon a plain,

       Which from its bed rejecteth every plant;

      The dolorous forest is a garland to it

       All round about, as the sad moat to that;

       There close upon the edge we stayed our feet.

      The soil was of an arid and thick sand,

       Not of another fashion made than that

       Which by the feet of Cato once was pressed.

      Vengeance of God, O how much oughtest thou

       By each one to be dreaded, who doth read

       That which was manifest unto mine eyes!

      Of naked souls beheld I many herds,

       Who all were weeping very miserably,

       And over them seemed set a law diverse.

      Supine upon the ground some folk were lying;

       And some were sitting all drawn up together,

       And others went about continually.

      Those who were going round were far the more,

       And those were less who lay down to their torment,

       But had their tongues more loosed to lamentation.

      O'er all the sand-waste, with a gradual fall,

       Were raining down dilated flakes of fire,

       As of the snow on Alp without a wind.

      As Alexander, in those torrid parts

       Of India, beheld upon his host

       Flames fall unbroken till they reached the ground.

      Whence he provided with his phalanxes

       To trample down the soil, because the vapour

       Better extinguished was while it was single;

      Thus was descending the eternal heat,

       Whereby the sand was set on fire, like tinder

       Beneath the steel, for doubling of the dole.

      Without repose forever was the dance

       Of miserable hands, now there, now here,

       Shaking away from off them the fresh gleeds.

      "Master,"

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