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 XXVII

• The flame, because of having ceased to speak,
• was quiet and erect, and now away from us
• was going with the gentle Poet’s leave;
• when lo, another, which behind it came,
• caused us to turn our eyes up toward its tip,
• by reason of a vague sound issuing thence.

• As the Sicilian bull (which bellowed first
• with the lament of him, and that was right,
• who with his file had given form to it,)
• was wont to bellow with the voice of him
• who suffered in it, so that, though of brass,
• it seemed the one who by the pain was pierced;
• even so, since from the body of the flame
• they had nor path nor mouth, the painful words
• were changed at first into the latter’s tongue.
• But when these words had travelled to the tip,
• and given it that vibration which the tongue,
• when uttered, gave to them, we heard it say:

• “O thou, to whom I now address my voice,
• and who just now didst talk in Lombard, saying:
• ‘Now go thy way, for thee I urge no more;’

• though I, perhaps, have somewhat late arrived,
• be not displeased to stop and speak with me;
• thou see’st that I am not, although I burn!
• If into this blind world thou only now
• art fallen down from that sweet Latin land,
• whence all my guilt I bring, pray tell me whether
• the Romagnoles are having peace or war;
• for I came from the mountains ’tween Urbino
• and that high peak from which the Tiber springs.”

• While downward I was leaning still intent,
• my Leader touched me on my side, and said:
• “Speak thou, for this one an Italian is.”

• And I, who had my answer all prepared,
• began to speak without delay: “O soul,
• that art concealed down yonder, thy Romagna
• is not at present, and she never was,
• devoid of war within her tyrants’ hearts;
• but I left none apparent there just now.
• Ravenna is, as she for many years
• has been; Polenta’s eagle so broods there,
• that Cervia it o’ercovers with its wings.
• The town which made the long resistance once,
• and of the French a sanguinary heap,
• beneath the green paws finds itself again.
• Verrucchio’s former Mastif and the new,
• who foully with Montagna dealt, there make,
• where they are wont, a gimlet of their teeth.

• The cities of Lamone and Santerno
• the little lion of the white lair rules,
• who changes sides from summer-time to winter;
• and that whose flank is by the Savio bathed,
• lives, as it sits twixt plain and mount,
• a free state half, and half a tyranny.
• And now, I pray thee, tell me who thou art,
• nor harder be than others here have been,
• so may thy name maintain itself on earth.”

• After the flame had roared a little while,
• as is its fashion, to and fro it moved
• its pointed tip, and then gave forth this breath:

• “If I believed that my reply were made
• to one who to the world would e’er return,
• this flame would stay without another quiver;
• but inasmuch as, if I hear the truth,
• none e’er returned alive from this abyss,
• fearless of infamy I answer thee.
• A man of arms I was, then Cordelier,
• trusting, since girded thus, to make amends;
• and certainly my trust had been confirmed,
• were ’t not for that High Priest, (whom ill befall!)
• who set me at my former sins again;
• both how and why I ’d have thee hear from me.
• While I was still the shape of bones and flesh
• my mother gave me, my performances
• were not a lion’s, but a fox’s deeds.

• All covert practices and hidden ways
• I knew; and I so carried on their arts,
• that to the ends of earth their fame was noised.
• When I perceived at last that I had reached
• that period of my life, when each should strike
• his sails and coil his ropes, what hitherto
• had given me pleasure I thereat disliked;
• I yielded then, repenting and confessing,
• and that, alas, poor me! would have availed.
• The Prince of modern Pharisees, who then
• hard by the Lateran had a war on hand,
• though not with either Saracens or Jews,
• for Christian were all enemies of his,
• and none of them had gone to conquer Acre,
• or been a merchant in the Soldan’s land;
• not heeding in himself his lofty office
• and holy orders, or in me the cord,
• which leaner used to make those girt therewith;
• but as upon Soracte Constantine
• once bade Sylvester heal his leprosy;
• so this one called on me, as master-leech,
• to cure him of the fever of his pride;
• he asked me for advice, but I kept still,
• because his words were like a drunkard’s words.
• And then he said: ‘Let not thy heart mistrust;
• I from now on absolve thee; teach me, then,
• how I can Palestrina overthrow.

• To lock and unlock Heaven is in my power,
• as thou dost know; two, therefore, are the Keys,
• my predecessor held in small esteem.’
• His weighty words then drove me to the point,
• at which the silent course appeared the worse;
• ‘Father,’ I therefore said, ‘since from the sin
• thou washest me, which I must now commit,
• a promise long drawn out but shortly kept
• will cause thy triumph on the lofty seat.’
• Then Francis came for me, when I was dead;
• but one of our black Cherubs said to him:
• ‘Remove him not, and do no wrong to me!
• Among my menials he must needs descend,
• because he gave the fraudulent advice,
• since which till now I ’ve had him by the hair;
• for who repents not cannot be absolved,
• nor yet can one at once repent and will,
• the contradiction not permitting it!’
• O woeful me! O how I shook with fear,
• when, after laying hold on me, he said:
• ‘Perhaps thou didst not think me a logician!’
• He carried me to Minos, and the latter
• round his hard back eight times entwined his tail,
• and when in great rage he had bitten it,
• ‘A sinner of the thievish fire is this,’
• he said; hence, where thou see’st me, I am lost,
• and, thus robed, sorrowing go my way.”

• When he had thus completed his discourse,
• the flame departed from us with its grief,
• twisting and lashing its sharp-pointed horn.

• I and my Leader then passed further on
• up o’er the crag, as far as the next arch
• which spans the ditch, wherein their due is paid
• to those who burdens win by severing bonds.