The Online Library of Liberty

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• Ave Dante
• Preface
• Inferno I
• Inferno Ii
• Inferno Iii
• Inferno Iv
• Inferno V
• Inferno Vi
• Inferno Vii
• Inferno Viii
• Inferno Ix
• Inferno X
• Inferno Xi
• Inferno Xii
• Inferno Xiii
• Inferno Xiv
• Inferno Xv
• Inferno Xvi
• Inferno Xvii
• Inferno Xviii
• Inferno Xix
• Inferno Xx
• Inferno Xxi
• Inferno Xxii
• Inferno Xxiii
• Inferno Xxiv
• Inferno Xxv
• Inferno Xxvi
• Inferno Xxvii
• Inferno Xxviii
• Inferno Xxix
• Inferno Xxx
• Inferno Xxxi
• Inferno Xxxii
• Inferno Xxxiii
• Inferno Xxxiv

INFERNO XVI

• I now was where the booming of the water,
• which fell into the following round, was heard
• like the dull, buzzing sound which bee-hives make;
• when three shades separated from a group,
• which ’neath the rain’s tormenting punishment
• was passing by, and ran along together.
• Toward us they came, and each of them cried out:
• “Stop, thou, that by thy garb dost seem to us
• a citizen of our corrupted town!”

• Alas, what wounds I saw upon their limbs,
• both old and recent, by the flames burnt in!
• It pains me still but to remember them.

• My Leader, giving heed to these their cries,
• turned his face round toward me, and said: “Now wait!
• To those men yonder courtesy is due;
• and, were not for the fire, which, arrow-like,
• the nature of the place shoots forth, I ’d say
• that haste were more becoming thee than them.”

• And they, when we had stopped, began again
• their old refrain; and after they had reached us,
• all three of them made of themselves a wheel.

• As champions oiled and nude are wont to do,
• when looking for an advantageous grip,
• before they come to giving blows and wounds;
• thus, as he wheeled, each turned his face toward me,
• so that his feet continuous journey made
• in opposite direction to his neck.

• And one began: “Even if the wretched nature
• of this soft place, and our burned, shrivelled faces
• bring us and our requests into contempt,
• still let our reputation bend thy mind
• to tell us who thou art, that dost so safely
• rub on the soil of Hell thy living feet.
• He, in whose footprints thou dost see me tread,
• was, though he go both nude and hairless now,
• of higher rank then thou believest him.
• He was the grandson of the good Gualdrada;
• his name was Guido Guerra, and when alive,
• his wisdom and his sword accomplished much.
• The other, who behind me treads the sand,
• Tegghiàio Aldobrandi is, whose voice
• should have been welcomed in the world above.
• And I, who with them am tormented here,
• Iàcopo Rusticucci was; and surely
• my shrewish wife than aught else hurts me more.”

• If I had been protected from the fire,
• I would have lept into their midst below,
• and I believe my Leader had allowed it.

• But since I should have burned and baked myself,
• fear was victorious over my good will,
• which made me eager to embrace them there.

• I then began: “Your state impressed within me
• not scorn, but so much pain, that only late
• will all of it entirely disappear,
• as soon as this my Lord said words to me,
• because of which I thought within myself
• that there were people coming such as you.
• Of your own town am I, and evermore
• have I your doings and your honored names
• related, and heard mentioned, with regard.
• I leave the gall, and for the sweet fruit go,
• which my veracious Leader promised me;
• but to the center must I first descend.”

• “So may thy spirit lead thy members long,”
• the former thereupon replied to me,
• “and, after thou art gone, thy fame be bright,
• tell me if courtesy and worth abide
• within our town, as they were wont to do,
• or whether they have wholly gone from it;
• for Guglielmo Borsierë, who but newly
• has been in pain with us, and with our mates
• goes yonder, grieves us greatly with his words.”

• “The people newly come, and sudden gains,
• have bred in thee such pride and such excess,
• that, Florence, thou art even now in pain!”

• Thus with uplifted face I cried; whereat
• the three, who this as answer understood,
• looked at each other, as one looks at truth.

• “If satisfying others other times
• cost thee so little, happy thou, that thus
• at thy sweet will dost speak!” they all replied.
• “Hence, — so mayst thou, from these dark places saved,
• return to see the lovely stars again, —
• when saying ‘I was there’ shall do thee good,
• see that thou tell the people about us.”
• They then broke up their wheel, and in their flight
• it seemed as if their nimble legs were wings.

• Amen could not have been as quickly said,
• as they then disappeared; my Teacher, therefore,
• thought it advisable for us to leave.

• I followed him, and not far had we gone,
• before the water’s noise was so near by,
• that, had we spoken, we had not been heard.

• And as the stream, which is the first that eastward
• from Monte Veso takes a separate course
• upon the left slope of the Apennines,
• and which above is Acquacheta called,
• before it flows into its lowly bed,
• and at Forlì is of that name deprived,
• booms loud, because of falling o’er a cliff
• above San Benedetto of the Alp,
• where for a thousand there should refuge be;

• even thus, as o’er a precipice it fell,
• we found that colored water roaring so,
• that very soon it would have hurt our ears.

• I had a cord around about me girt,
• wherewith I once had thought that I could capture
• the Leopard with the brightly colored hide.
• When from me I had wholly loosened it,
• even as my Leader had commanded me,
• I coiled it up and held it out to him.
• Thereat upon his right he turned around,
• and hurled it to some distance from the edge
• down into that profound and dark abyss.

• “Surely some strange new thing must needs reply”
• said I within myself, “to this strange signal,
• which with his eye my Teacher follows thus.”

• Ah, with what caution men should deal with those,
• who see not only what is done by others,
• but with their wisdom see into their thoughts!

• He said to me: “What I am waiting for,
• and what thy thought now dreams, will soon come up;
• soon to thy vision will it be revealed.”

• E’er to a truth that hath a falsehood’s face
• ought one to close his lips as best he can,
• for, though one faultless be, it brings him shame;
• but I can not suppress it here; hence, Reader,
• even by the verses of this Comedy,
• so may they not be void of lasting favor,

• I swear to thee, that through that coarse, dark air
• I saw a shape, which would have chilled with wonder
• however brave a heart, come swimming up,
• as he returns, who, going down at times
• to clear an anchor clinging to a reef,
• or aught else lying hidden in the sea,
• above extends, and draweth in below.