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 XXV

• The thief, at the conclusion of his words,
• lifted his hands with both their figs, and cried:
• “Take that, O God, for ’t is to Thee I show them!”

• From that time onward snakes have been my friends,
• for thereupon one coiled around his neck,
• as if to say: “I ’d have thee speak no more;”
• another, coiling, tied his arms together,
• and clinched itself so well in front of him,
• that he could make no use of them at all.

• Pistoia, ah, Pistoia, why not will
• to burn to ashes, and no longer last,
• since in ill-doing thou excell’st thy seed?
• In all of Hell’s dark rings I ’ve seen no spirit
• so arrogant toward God; not even he,
• who fell down headlong from the walls at Thebes.

• Without another word he fled away;
• whereat I saw a Centaur full of rage
• come crying: “Where, where is the stubborn soul?”
• Not ev’n Maremma has so many snakes,
• I think, as on his crupper that one had,
• as far as where our human form begins.

• Upon his shoulders right behind his nape
• there crouched a dragon with wide opened wings;
• and he sets fire to whomsoe’er he meets.

• My Teacher said: “He, yonder, Cacus is,
• who ’neath the rocks that form Mount Aventine
• oft made a lake of blood. He travels not
• along the road o’er which his brethren go,
• because of having fraudulently robbed
• the famous herd which he as neighbor had;
• this ended his sly deeds beneath the club
• of Hercules, who may perhaps have dealt him
• a hundred blows, whereof he felt but ten.”

• While thus he spoke, that sinner, too, made off;
• whereat three spirits came and stood below us,
• whom neither I nor even my Leader noticed,
• until they all cried out: “Who then are ye?”
• because of which our conversation ceased,
• for afterward we heeded them alone.
• I knew them not; but so it happened then,
• as it is wont to do in certain cases,
• that one perforce employed another’s name,
• saying: “But where can Cianfa have remained?”
• Hence, that my Leader might give heed, I placed
• my finger in a line from chin to nose.

• If thou art slow now, Reader, to believe
• what I shall tell, no marvel will it be,
• for I, who saw it, hardly grant I did.

• As toward them I was holding up my brows,
• lo, a six-footed serpent hurls itself
• in front of one, and clings to him all over;
• with both its middle feet it clasped his paunch,
• and with its fore feet seized upon his arms;
• then with its teeth it wounded both his cheeks;
• it spread its hind feet out along his thighs,
• and thrusting next its tail between the two,
• it stretched it upward all along his back.
• Ivy was never rooted to a tree
• so fast, as round about the other’s limbs
• that horrible wild creature twined its own.
• And thereupon, as if hot wax they were,
• they stuck together, and their colors mixed,
• till neither seemed to be what it had been;
• just as a browish hue precedes the flame
• on burning paper which is not yet black,
• while, equally, the white part dies away.

• The other two looked on, and each exclaimed:
• “O me, Agnello, what a change is thine!
• for see, thou now art neither two nor one.”

• Already into one had both heads turned,
• when we two countenances still beheld
• mixed in a single face, where both were lost.
• From the four previous strips two arms were made;
• the thighs and legs, the belly and the chest
• became such members as were never seen.

• Cancelled therein was every former aspect;
• the transformed figure seemed both two and none;
• and thus appearing slowly moved away.

• As like a lightning-flash a lizard looks,
• if, changing hedges ’neath the dog-day’s scourge,
• across a road it passes; even such
• a little fiery serpent seemed to me,
• as toward the bellies of the other two
• it came, livid and black as peppercorn.
• And in that part through which our nourishment
• is first received, it transfixed one of them,
• and then fell down, stretched out in front of him.
• The pierced man gazed at it, but nothing said;
• nay, firmly on his feet he stood, and yawned,
• as if attacked by fever or by sleep.
• He at the serpent looked, and it at him;
• one through his wound, the other through its mouth
• smoked hard, and each smoke with the other mingled.

• Let Lucan, then, be silent, where he tells
• of poor Sabellus’ and Nassidius’ fate,
• and, giving heed, hear what is now proclaimed.
• Of Cadmus, and of Arethusa, too,
• let Ovid cease to speak; for though his verse
• turn him into a snake, and make of her
• a fount, I grudge him not; for face to face
• he ne’er so changed two natures, that the forms
• of each were ready to exchange their matter.

• They blended each with each in such a way
• that, while the serpent fork-wise clove its tail,
• the wounded man together drew his feet.
• The legs and with them ev’n the very thighs
• so stuck together, that in little time
• their juncture left no mark that could be seen.
• The cloven tail was taking on the shape
• which there was being lost; the skin of one,
• meanwhile, was growing soft, and hard the other’s.
• I saw his arms withdraw into his armpits,
• and both the serpent’s feet, which were not long,
• lengthen as much, as those were growing short.
• And then its hinder feet, together twisted,
• became the member which a man conceals,
• while from his own the wretch had two thrust forth.
• And while the smoke was veiling both of them
• with novel hues, and generated hair
• on one side, and deprived of it the other,
• the one stood up, and down the other fell,
• nor turned aside for that the impious eyes,
• beneath which each of them was changing face.
• The one who stood, drew his in toward his temples;
• and from the excessive matter coming there
• ears issued on his undeveloped cheeks;
• and that, which ran not back, but was retained,
• of this superfluous matter, gave the face
• a nose, and thickened suitably its lips.

• He who was lying down thrusts forth his muzzle,
• and backward through his head withdraws his ears,
• even as a snail doth with its horns; his tongue,
• which single used to be, and prompt to speech,
• divides itself, while in the other case,
• the split one closes, and the smoking stops.

• The soul which had become a savage beast
• flees hissing through the trench; the other spits
• behind him as he talks. Then, having turned
• away from him his just created shoulders,
• he to the third said: “I ’d have Buoso run,
• as I have, on his belly o’er this path.”

• I thus beheld the seventh balast change
• and interchange; here let its novelty
• excuse me, if it slightly blur my pen.
• And though somewhat bewildered were my eyes,
• and though confused my mind, those men could not
• escape so secretly, that I should fail
• Pùccio Sciancato perfectly to see;
• and of the three companions who came first,
• he only was not changed; the other one
• was he, for whom, Gavillë, thou dost weep.